Fix the Bus

Here is the testimony of young Amos Euins who was at the corner of Elm and Houston as John Kennedy approaches and rounds the last street corner of his life. Mr. Euins has a front-row seat to history. This is the affidavit he gave this day.

This is what he saw. In short order I will discuss the testimony he gave the Warren Commission, but before doing so, I want to go over his affidavit in order to discuss a few relevant points.

Let us first make the testimony more readable.

I am presently going to school at Franklin D. Roosevelt high School and am in the 9th grade. I got out of school this morning to see the President of the United States when he came to Dallas. I was standing on the corner of Elm and Houston street. From where I was standing I could look across the street and see a large red brick building. I saw the President turn the corner in front of me and I waived at him and he waived back. I watched the car on down the street and about the time the car got back near the black and white sign I heard a shot. I started looking around and then I looked up in the red brick building. I saw a man in a window with a gun and I saw him shoot twice. He then stepped back behind some boxes. I could tell the gun was a rifle and it sounded like an automatic rifle the way he was shooting. I just saw a little bit of the barrel, and some of the trigger housing. This was a white man, he did not have on a hat. I just saw this man for a few seconds. As far as I know, I had never seen this man before.

Now, of course, this is an introduction, not a treatise. And I’m not concerned here with confabulation caused by organic brain disease. I want to discuss normal ordinary confabulation and mis-remembering. Suffice it to say that there are many theories and thoughts about confabulation and justifiably so. One can’t take the brain apart easily as one would a television set.

I am going to present to you in part my theory on memory and how it is stored. I will use film as an analogy, and you and I will be the Directors as Amos Euins films JFK as he is approaching his day of destiny.

The film that is the memory of Amos Euins will enter the back of his head, and exit the front just below his eyes. It will spool out into the ground in a flat strip to be collected later. We will crank the film in accordance with the emotions he is feeling that day.

Older people certainly know full well that memory must be imprinted somewhere in our brains. I have at times been sitting in a room when an image or even an odor will conjure up a vivid memory that took place fifty years in the past.

How does it do that?

It seems logical to me that the memories are imprinted by CHONS (carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, sulfur) molecules in the form of a ribbon churned out by ribosomes embedded within memory neurons. Some neurons are dedicated to sight, others to sound, and still others to proprioception, smell and taste. Other neurons must be responsible for coordinating the ribbons in those neurons allocated to the primary senses. The point is that memory is like film, a gelatinous record of our life and how we experience it.

It’s there, but like us is imperfect.

We are imperfect creatures based upon malleable carbon, not brittle silicon. Whereas silicon is hard, and consistently reliable, carbon is weak and soft. It bends, weeps and bleeds. It also has major breakdowns. Our memories are reflective of that.

Emotions, an integral part of who we are, also affect our memory, our film of life. We want relevance in life; we want to be valued. We also desire what we can not achieve with our frail carbon-based bodies – immortality. These dreams and aspirations are also connected into the neurons responsible for churning out the film of life. We can not escape these desires.

And so, as Amos Euins stands on Elm and Houston, he looks to his right and left, and waits. It is a sunny, crisp, November day and he is in the right place at the right time. As he stares down toward Main Street he can see the red court house. The crowd noise picks up as the Presidential limo rounds the corner of Main and Houston.

We are excited as we crank the film, maybe a bit too excited. It’s the President, for crying out loud. Here he comes. We see the limo approach, and in the car are JFK and Jackie. Jackie is wearing her pink outfit. Jackie is closest to us.

As the limo turns the hard corner onto Elm, JFK spots us and gives a little wave. Holy Shit! The President just waved to us. Wow, we say out loud as we lift our head. We are talking into the air and to the Lord above as most people do when they see something cool. As we lift our head, something catches our eye. We see a pipe in a window straight ahead on the upper floors. We can’t count that quick but we know it’s pretty high. We’re not sure what it means, but we have no reason to suspect anything foul.

We’re cranking a little faster now because JFK just waved to us, but the moment of elation is wearing, and we turn our head back toward Elm and watch the President’s car.

Suddenly we hear what seems to be a firecracker. No big deal, but it does get us excited, and so we jerk our head around to do a quick scan of the area, and again we see the pipe sticking out of the window dead ahead. Maybe there is a hand there also. Oh, well, we can’t make it out even though we try.

Suddenly though, we hear another crack and then another. That isn’t normal. We look back down Elm, and we can see that clearly something is going on. Something isn’t right. Way in the distance on the grassy knoll, we can see a young family hitting the deck; we see people beginning to take cover. What the hell is going on here we ask ourselves. Then we feel something funny.

The film that we have rolled out in front of is starting to wave. It has taken on a life of its own. The wave is moving in a retrograde manner back towards us. In a manner of seconds that force is now affecting us. We begin to get scared. We turn the crank faster. Something is clearly happening here.

Time seems to be speeding up for us, yet, at the same time, time seems to be slowing down. We can see the physical film in front of us and inside of us widening; the molecules in the gelatin are expanding outward and growing thicker. They are also beginning to slide back and forth. Molecules from one frame are beginning to blend into the next.

What kind of madness is this? It feels as if we are in a strange sense of time warp.

But this is only temporary, for as we see JFK’s car go into the distance under the overpass, we can sense time slowly returning to normality. In the meantime we have been looking around, and we see again the pipe in the window. We are sure it is a rifle now, and we see a hand and a white patch on a man’s head.

Slowly we return to normality.

Time returns to where it once began.

What in hell’s name was that, we ask ourselves. What just transpired?

What just transpired was the assassination of the President in ten seconds in real time to people who were not expecting it. They weren’t watching a Zapruder film in their living room. They were experiencing a real time event.

As events quickly transpired, their minds became flooded rapidly with a rush or neuromediators like epinephrine, nor-epinephrine, dopamine, serotonin and biochemicals yet to be discovered. The neurons, the ones responsible for recording memories were under attack. They were being pulled and pushed by an army of chemical mediators.

A still camera is a wonderful thing. Compared to us, it rarely moves or breaks down under pressure. It’s not like us at all. That’s why we invented them. They show us the way things were with consistency.

Of course, what I have detailed above is a model intended to illustrate how I think memory works. The film that is recorded is not lying outside our body, but inside. Its chemical composition is still congealing and therefore still subject to what our body is feeling. Not only is our memory not congealed at that point in time, it will forever be subject to change. As I say, we and our memories are comprised of malleable carbon, not immutable silicon.

In the case of the Kennedy assassination, what we read in the newspapers can and will affect our memories of that day. Our memories are also subject to the interrogation by CIA men who may have a vested interest in the outcome of our testimony. Clever lawyers such as Arlen Specter, Gerald Ford, and Wesley Liebler, who also may have a vested interest in the outcome of our testimony, may influence our memories.

The CIA is in the business of information, in its processing, storage, extraction, and manipulation. Your federal government on behalf of you, the average American, spent huge sums of money all throughout the 1950s, 60s, 70s and beyond in understanding the human mind. MK Ultra was part of that ongoing investment, as was operation Mockingbird, in which CIA men were placed in newsrooms across the nation in order to manipulate the news, which would in turn manipulate you.

It would be nice to believe that Nazi Germany was defeated in 1945, but it would be a Walt Disney fantasy to believe such. Indeed, our government took the worst ideas of the Third Reich and transported them over here to the United States. One of those bad ideas was the SD, or Sicherheitdienst. It means Security Service in German. At times the SS and Gestapo (an acronym for Geheime Stadt Polizei) were part of that SD. Here in America we call the SD the CIA. The CIA and its members truly believe that they are keeping us safe.

Now, of course, the CIA claims that it does not run domestic operations. Okay, the CIA may not, but the BABA (Baked Apple Betty Agency) does. Whether we call it the CIA or the NSA or the ONI is irrelevant. The term CIA is used to describe the security state apparatus that your federal government uses to keep track of you.

It is also irrelevant whether someone sports a badge that says “CIA Officer”, or whether they carry an Ovaltine decoder device that says, “CIA Property.” If you are a businessman like Clay Shaw who regularly agrees to be debriefed by the CIA, you are a fellow traveler of the CIA and therefore CIA. Whether you receive a check or not signed by Richard Helms is irrelevant.

With that in mind, let us return to young Mr. Euins. He is pretty sure of what he sees, as we all are, but is what he sees what happened? If the two are not the same, that doesn’t mean that Mr. Euins is lying. It only means that Mr. Euins carbon-based mind camera and film was affected by the events that were transpiring.

Cops, doctors and soldiers can tell you how stress causes time distortion. The psychologists have a term for it. It’s called tachypsychia. It is real and it is strange. I have experienced it. When under extreme stress, time speeds up and slows down at the same time. The hormones and neuromediators are severely affecting our conscious minds and affecting how we perceive time. In this strange state, there is no past or future; we are focused on the present. When we come out of it, it’s as if we have no accurate memory of it. Our brains are not reacting to the situation as we would normally react. We are not commenting on our lives as we might ordinarily comment.

This stress that we feel not only affects what is transpiring just now, but also what will transpire and did transpire relative to the inciting event. The stress is anterograde and retrograde.

The escalating stress that Mr. Euins experiences runs backward and forward in time. The film becomes degraded in the sense that proteins on the memory strip of his life swish forward and backward and become distorted.

We know that Mr. Euins saw a red brick building. We know he heard shots. We also know that he saw a man at a window. But did he see a man in the Specter Window commonly known as the Oswald Window. Perhaps the man was in the Dulles Window in the Dal-Tex building. Or perhaps the McCloy Window right next to it.

Perhaps the stress of the moment pushed the images and sounds out of sequence and yielded the memory that a white man was shooting from the Oswald Window when indeed the man was at the Ford Window in the Dal-Tex building only five to ten degrees of angulation away.

Perhaps the open window at the TSBD, because it was so salient and foremost, caused people to point at it. Or maybe a helpful government agent got the ball rolling by screaming, “Hey, look up there!”

In the stress of the moment, maybe all these proteins coalesced to give Mr. Euins the memory he gave us.

Memory is a funny thing. That’s why we ask multiple people. That’s why we ask whether LHO could possibly have been at that window given that he was seen in the second-floor break-room by Officer Marrion Baker only minutes after the final shots.

I’m not doubting that Amos Euins saw a rifle, a man, and a red brick building. I believe him. Somebody shot the President. What want to know is from where.

Here is the testimony he gave before the Warren Commission 4 months later. Note how memory can change with time. There is nothing necessarily wrong or sinister here. It is what it is.

Here are the Warren Commission Exhibits referenced.

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved