Cathy O'Brien: The Tranceformation of America

[The One]

For those who have not seen this its quite interesting if you like this subject

Cathleen Ann O'Brien (born 4 December 1957, Muskegon, Michigan) is an American who claims to be a victim of Project MKULTRA, a program funded by the Central Intelligence Agency to research the use of drugs for intelligence purposes. O'Brien made these claims in Trance Formation of America (1995) and Access Denied: For Reasons of National Security (2004) which she co-authored with her husband Mark Phillips. O'Brien is one of many people publicly claiming to have survived 'CIA mind control' programs.

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[Realeyes]

I read Cathy O'Briens book when it was first published. IMHO, it was the most uncomfortable book I had ever read in my life - yet so pleased I read every page, it opened my 'eyes' very wide to what is happening behind the scenes on this World. My heart goes out to her and everyone else who has been involved in this dark very sad story of human mind control.

I agree with 'The One' - if you haven't come across Cathy's work, do set aside some time to look into this subject - it was a very important life perception change for me and many others that I know who have studied her works.

[Maia Gabrial]

Thank you, The One. This excellent woman was so touching and informative. Who could guess that mind control so widespread? Bless her for coming forward. She named names where other whistleblowers never do. I've lived in Michigan the longest of any place ever, so her story had more impact on me....
I've emailed it to several people. IMO it should go viral, making people more aware of the tactics.
The big question is - What's it going to take to stop all this? The US corporation and it's agencies like CIA is so beyond help, it's worsed than corrupt.

[mountain_jim]

Reading her book and presuming it's true made me strongly desire that Cheney, Kissenger, and Bush Sr., among others, stand trial for some of these things before they (or their latest clones) leave this world.

The stuff about Jimmy Buffet being a CIA helper and the ties between parts of the country music scene and the MK-Ultra, sex-slave scene, or the drug-courier scene, I did not find that surprising.

Goes along in shockingness-quotient with Thanks for the Memories (Brice Taylor), where we learn alot we wish we had not have about Bob Hope and USO tours.

[Maia Gabrial]

Hey mountain_jim,
What's that about Bob Hope and the USO tours? Never heard a thing about him....

[enfoldedblue]

Thanks. Here are some other links that might be of interest.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI2aF8kMb7Q

http://denkmalnach.org/download/Brea...rogramming.pdf

[astrid]

I'm not sure this is a subject one "likes",
but for sure raising awareness is a good thing.
There are a few other threads on her here too, if one like to go digging for more.

Certainly not for the faint hearted, and also may be very triggering for some with past abuse issues.
Personally i usually post her work with a warning so people get a heads up, i
I have a strict " do no harm " policy but that's just me.
Not saying that it shouldn't be posted, just that her work does get very graphic at times.

[AlternativeInfoJunkie]

I read Cathy O'Briens book when it was first published. IMHO, it was the most uncomfortable book I had ever read in my life - yet so pleased I read every page, it opened my 'eyes' very wide to what is happening behind the scenes on this World. My heart goes out to her and everyone else who has been involved in this dark very sad story of human mind control.

I agree with 'The One' - if you haven't come across Cathy's work, do set aside some time to look into this subject - it was a very important life perception change for me and many others that I know who have studied her works.

It has been the most uncomfortable reading experience for me as well. I'm about halfway through it and I actually have been putting picking it up again off because it is just so hard to get through. It's not that I'm not interested in her story. I feel deeply for her. She paints extremely vivid pictures of the most horrifying acts you could ever imagine human beings being capable of. And they are pictures that I have trouble looking at. Nonetheless she is probably one of the most courageous people I have ever heard of and I have nothing but the utmost respect for her.

[Cilka]

I went to see her speak at University of Calgary. I read two of her books and was sickened what humans are capable of doing to children. I hope deep down that it is not true what she wrote in her books. I remember Phillips, her partner, saying that her story was going to be made into a movie. Oh my God, I hope not. The book is so disturbing that no one should ever see anything like that on a screen.

I wonder how her daughter is doing. She did not say much about her.

[seeker/reader]

The conference took place in April 2013. However as far as I know the video of the conference was just recently uploaded to Youtube by user: Free Your Mind Conference, at the following channel. https://www.youtube.com/user/fymconference

v0Pzryzr1Rs

[Tyy1907]

What an absolute warrior she is. Thanks for that.

[chocolate]

edited for clarity
feel free to remove your thanks

[waves]

FvEBmEo4IA0

I have seen this video, and it seems to cover pretty much the same level of ideas and detail. A bit more, actually.

This may seem interesting for some of you: http://markdice.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=126:cathy-obriens-claims-of-being-an-mk-ultra-victim&catid=66:articles-by-mark-dice&Itemid=89

And that also proves to be interesting to read: http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm

It is funny, I was listening, partially watching the interview posted at the beginning of the thread, and something kept bothering me about the lady. Of course, soon after I realized I have seen her in a bit different settings and with a bit different look. See the video I posted.
( I have a very strong memory when it comes to faces, and appearances. And I do consume a lot of information ).

I mean, it is interesting to see all of that, but as it was mentioned in the video, critical thinking is always a good tool to have in your possession.

I strongly advise everyone to red this article (http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm).
If someone feels compelled to do so, it is a good idea probably to post the whole of it here, for further reference. But I am not going to do it just out of respect for the thread and the point of view.
Mark Phillips, mentioned in the article (http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm) appears in the video I posted.

Bottom line of my post,
I am one extremely suspicious curious cat.

I formerly took her story and all content face value though did not read her books, but am now seriously rethinking for some of the same reasons you mentioned and more.

Her eyes and demeanor bothered me in this recent video instantly, in a different way than her speeches when younger. I suspect a good example of what a mind controlled person looks like reciting a script would be this. It's the same look as a former alcoholic. That kind of false giddy carefreeness, not really all there.

I compared the two speeches which are many years apart (anyone have an exact?) and was even further bothered. They are nearly identical. Absolutely no further insight or facts - neither say exactly what happened to her, just a list of the hims and hers that abused her. Lots of generalities and very few details. She would have observed PLENTY revealing, interesting, anecdotal stuff if she was around who she said she was around. Could she be a still working mind controlled person serving a purpose? Is she reciting a script deliberately planted into the alternative community?

I believe mkultra, monarch and more are very real, but have high suspicions that with the technology so high, you never really 'recover' or are 'let go', especially to speak freely, and that you likely remain at the least a monitored and/or usable asset for life with or without your knowledge or consent.

My biggest question is what is the possible agenda/purpose for wanting to promote this probably info/disinfo legend into the alternative community. A lot of theories there too, but maybe just to keep us confused and looking stupid to people we try to pass info on to that we end up being wrong about?

[chocolate]

edited for clarity
feel free to remove your thanks

[chocolate]

edited for clarity
feel free to remove your thanks

[seeker/reader]

FvEBmEo4IA0

I have seen this video, and it seems to cover pretty much the same level of ideas and detail. A bit more, actually.

This may seem interesting for some of you: http://markdice.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=126:cathy-obriens-claims-of-being-an-mk-ultra-victim&catid=66:articles-by-mark-dice&Itemid=89

And that also proves to be interesting to read: http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm

It is funny, I was listening, partially watching the interview posted at the beginning of the thread, and something kept bothering me about the lady. Of course, soon after I realized I have seen her in a bit different settings and with a bit different look. See the video I posted.
( I have a very strong memory when it comes to faces, and appearances. And I do consume a lot of information ).

I mean, it is interesting to see all of that, but as it was mentioned in the video, critical thinking is always a good tool to have in your possession.

I strongly advise everyone to red this article (http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm).
If someone feels compelled to do so, it is a good idea probably to post the whole of it here, for further reference. But I am not going to do it just out of respect for the thread and the point of view.
Mark Phillips, mentioned in the article (http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm) appears in the video I posted.

Bottom line of my post,
I am one extremely suspicious curious cat.

I formerly took her story and all content face value though did not read her books, but am now seriously rethinking for some of the same reasons you mentioned and more.

Her eyes and demeanor bothered me in this recent video instantly, in a different way than her speeches when younger. I suspect a good example of what a mind controlled person looks like reciting a script would be this. It's the same look as a former alcoholic. That kind of false giddy carefreeness, not really all there.

I compared the two speeches which are many years apart (anyone have an exact?) and was even further bothered. They are nearly identical. Absolutely no further insight or facts - neither say exactly what happened to her, just a list of the hims and hers that abused her. Lots of generalities and very few details. She would have observed PLENTY revealing, interesting, anecdotal stuff if she was around who she said she was around. Could she be a still working mind controlled person serving a purpose? Is she reciting a script deliberately planted into the alternative community?

I believe mkultra, monarch and more are very real, but have high suspicions that with the technology so high, you never really 'recover' or are 'let go', especially to speak freely, and that you likely remain at the least a monitored and/or usable asset for life with or without your knowledge or consent.

My biggest question is what is the possible agenda/purpose for wanting to promote this probably info/disinfo legend into the alternative community. A lot of theories there too, but maybe just to keep us confused and looking stupid to people we try to pass info on to that we end up being wrong about?

If you want some details there are plenty in her book. She names many, many, publicly know names and gives many disgusting details about their habits, perversions and preferences. http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/transforusa/transformation.htm

I have read Bryce Taylor's book also. They have some similarities as far as them both being MK ultra victims but that is what one would expect of victims put into the same program. The details given in Bryce's book are different. They had different handlers, had different abilities and thus were utilized to carry out specific types of tasks or ops. They were also used by different "known" names.

[chocolate]

edited for clarity
feel free to remove your thanks

[seeker/reader]

Jay Parker who was at the Free Your Mind Conference has read both of Cathy's books and said he completely believes everything in them as they corroborate his own personal MK ultra programming that he received at the hands of his Satanic Illuminati family. He said his mother was an expert programmer. He did not remember any of his programming until later in life when a person used a programming word that his mother used, which triggered his memory. Then the flood gates were opened to the memories of his horrific abuse.

Here is Jay Parker's talk http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?69839-SRA-Survivor-Jay-Parker-Free-Your-Mind-2-Conference-Recently-Released-3-14-2014&p=814555&viewfull=1#post814555

I have also read Fritz Springmeier's book, "The Illuminati Formula to Create an Undetectable Total Mind Control Slave". He got most of his information from Illuminati survivors that had broken free from the Illuminati and their mind control programming. A lot of what he writes also corroborates Cathy's experiences. His co-author is Cisco Wheeler, an Illuminati MK Ultra survivor. http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/mindcontrol/mindcontrol_index.htm

After reading all of these accounts I would not easily dismiss any of them.

And as for Cathy appearing stressed, if you read her book you might understand why she might be stressed. I don't know how she could act not stressed. She was subjected to incest, rape, torture, satanic ritual abuse, saw others murder and had to witness her own child go through the same type of abuse she did. :faint2:

[ThePythonicCow]

I am not saying that the person who posts, or starts a thread is someone who means to harm the forum. Quite the contrary. He simply becomes the conduit for the well crafted disinformation.
I'm sure most of us have been such conduits at some time. I know I have been at times, and no doubt will be again.

Thanks for your perceptive comments and research.

[ceetee9]

FvEBmEo4IA0

I have seen this video, and it seems to cover pretty much the same level of ideas and detail. A bit more, actually.

This may seem interesting for some of you: http://markdice.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=126:cathy-obriens-claims-of-being-an-mk-ultra-victim&catid=66:articles-by-mark-dice&Itemid=89

And that also proves to be interesting to read: http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm

It is funny, I was listening, partially watching the interview posted at the beginning of the thread, and something kept bothering me about the lady. Of course, soon after I realized I have seen her in a bit different settings and with a bit different look. See the video I posted.
( I have a very strong memory when it comes to faces, and appearances. And I do consume a lot of information ).

I mean, it is interesting to see all of that, but as it was mentioned in the video, critical thinking is always a good tool to have in your possession.

I strongly advise everyone to red this article (http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm).
If someone feels compelled to do so, it is a good idea probably to post the whole of it here, for further reference. But I am not going to do it just out of respect for the thread and the point of view.
Mark Phillips, mentioned in the article (http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm) appears in the video I posted.

Bottom line of my post,
I am one extremely suspicious curious cat.

I formerly took her story and all content face value though did not read her books, but am now seriously rethinking for some of the same reasons you mentioned and more.

Her eyes and demeanor bothered me in this recent video instantly, in a different way than her speeches when younger. I suspect a good example of what a mind controlled person looks like reciting a script would be this. It's the same look as a former alcoholic. That kind of false giddy carefreeness, not really all there.

I compared the two speeches which are many years apart (anyone have an exact?) and was even further bothered. They are nearly identical. Absolutely no further insight or facts - neither say exactly what happened to her, just a list of the hims and hers that abused her. Lots of generalities and very few details. She would have observed PLENTY revealing, interesting, anecdotal stuff if she was around who she said she was around. Could she be a still working mind controlled person serving a purpose? Is she reciting a script deliberately planted into the alternative community?

I believe mkultra, monarch and more are very real, but have high suspicions that with the technology so high, you never really 'recover' or are 'let go', especially to speak freely, and that you likely remain at the least a monitored and/or usable asset for life with or without your knowledge or consent.

My biggest question is what is the possible agenda/purpose for wanting to promote this probably info/disinfo legend into the alternative community. A lot of theories there too, but maybe just to keep us confused and looking stupid to people we try to pass info on to that we end up being wrong about?
While I haven't read "Access Denied" I have read "Trance Formation of America" and I suggest you read it if you're interested in more details. I'm not saying that I necessarily believe everything Cathy says (or that Mark may not have ulterior motives), but I equally wouldn't just accept negative or opposing opinions from someone else whose agenda or motives I also know little to nothing about.

However, red lights do go off in my head whenever I see a title or statement that says "The True Story" or some such equivalent statement. Clearly these types of statements are designed to elicit an immediate and particular response/opinion from the reader or insult their intelligence if they don't come to the same conclusion after having read the propaganda piece.

None of us knows the truth about any story unless we were a participant or witness to the event(s). All the rest of us can do is do our own research with an open mind, weigh the best evidence available (the more the better), and arrive at as reasonable and logical conclusion/opinion as we're able to based on the evidence reviewed to date--never forgetting that everybody has an agenda and that new or missed evidence can come to light at any time which could alter our conclusion/opinion.

[chocolate]

At this stage I have come to the conclusion that some issues are better left alone. So I will diligently go back and edit all my posts, hoping that people get to where they need to go without my added effort.

Okay, done.

Cheers!

[Tyy1907]

FvEBmEo4IA0

I have seen this video, and it seems to cover pretty much the same level of ideas and detail. A bit more, actually.

This may seem interesting for some of you: http://markdice.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=126:cathy-obriens-claims-of-being-an-mk-ultra-victim&catid=66:articles-by-mark-dice&Itemid=89

And that also proves to be interesting to read: http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm

It is funny, I was listening, partially watching the interview posted at the beginning of the thread, and something kept bothering me about the lady. Of course, soon after I realized I have seen her in a bit different settings and with a bit different look. See the video I posted.
( I have a very strong memory when it comes to faces, and appearances. And I do consume a lot of information ).

I mean, it is interesting to see all of that, but as it was mentioned in the video, critical thinking is always a good tool to have in your possession.

I strongly advise everyone to red this article (http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm).
If someone feels compelled to do so, it is a good idea probably to post the whole of it here, for further reference. But I am not going to do it just out of respect for the thread and the point of view.
Mark Phillips, mentioned in the article (http://rense.com/general2/phil.htm) appears in the video I posted.

Bottom line of my post,
I am one extremely suspicious curious cat.

I formerly took her story and all content face value though did not read her books, but am now seriously rethinking for some of the same reasons you mentioned and more.

Her eyes and demeanor bothered me in this recent video instantly, in a different way than her speeches when younger. I suspect a good example of what a mind controlled person looks like reciting a script would be this. It's the same look as a former alcoholic. That kind of false giddy carefreeness, not really all there.

I compared the two speeches which are many years apart (anyone have an exact?) and was even further bothered. They are nearly identical. Absolutely no further insight or facts - neither say exactly what happened to her, just a list of the hims and hers that abused her. Lots of generalities and very few details. She would have observed PLENTY revealing, interesting, anecdotal stuff if she was around who she said she was around. Could she be a still working mind controlled person serving a purpose? Is she reciting a script deliberately planted into the alternative community?

I believe mkultra, monarch and more are very real, but have high suspicions that with the technology so high, you never really 'recover' or are 'let go', especially to speak freely, and that you likely remain at the least a monitored and/or usable asset for life with or without your knowledge or consent.

My biggest question is what is the possible agenda/purpose for wanting to promote this probably info/disinfo legend into the alternative community. A lot of theories there too, but maybe just to keep us confused and looking stupid to people we try to pass info on to that we end up being wrong about?

My God listening to Kathy speAk of this stuff is hard. Can't even imagine

[sigma6]

It’s amazing how certain dramatic productions can evoke a profound emotional responses... from classic movies, and books to powerful documentaries... I’m thinking of Apocalypse Now or Star Wars, or even Dr Chivago, or Gone w The Wind, etc. everyone has their own triggers... One I clearly remember was in the movie "Bladerunner" when Sean Young’s character

states: “I am not in the business... I am the business"

I just had to steal this and share it with the world. This is the new Cathy O’Brien...
She has deconstructed her own mind control paradigm, and created a new life; one of her own choice.
In the process she is an adept at communicating, psychology, philosophy, and self improvement.
She has truly conquered her tragedy and turned it into triumph.
She is a living testimony to the power of what good intentions can do.
And a living example of the often said and little understood clique and ultimate reality...

THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE...

Cathy’s life shows this is more then just a vague idea, or a religious platitude,
but a powerful psychological truth... a rock to base your life on...

Cathy is a survivor who went from a severely abused trauma based mind control victim to a powerful voice for self empowerment and the new world that awaits all those who are ready to do what it takes to wake up... and sure enough, the most fundamental issue, the bedrock is a philosophical posture that defines truth as the ultimate point of reference in relationship to living in the spirit of right action and divine order.

This needs to get out... Cathy and Mark need the help of other people to spread
their very clear, very coherent and very timely message. And the time is NOW...



140731 - Cathy O'Brien, Mark Phillips - MK Ultra & The CIA - 1 of 2
http://www.4shared.com/mp3/4ZCHUUjGce/140731_-_Cathy_OBrien__Mark_Ph.html

140731 - Cathy O'Brien, Mark Phillips - MK Ultra & The CIA - 1 of 2
http://www.4shared.com/mp3/XHJeOJIUba/140731_-_Cathy_OBrien__Mark_Ph.html


(share with care ;)

[jackovesk]

Who could ever forget that incident where Cathy had to show Hitlary Clinton her mutilated Vagina...:shocked:

Some thoughts/images are pretty hard to shake...:scared:

PS - Thanks for the MP3 links sigma6, I've got something excellent to listen to tonight...:thumb:

[Cidersomerset]

More people are becoming aware of this, David Icke and others were
talking about this in the 1990's and he did his intereview with
Arizona wylder describing the satanic sexual aspects of this involving
royalty and very influential elits in the US and around the world.

David Icke - Revelations, Arizona Wilder (1 and 2 )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9y8weOxrFM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XC3SQSR1o4

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MK-Ultra & Project Monarch: Roseanne Barr, Mark Phillips, & Cathy O'Brien


There is a good knowledgeable intro from Roseanne Barr.....


XECHz8alr_Q


Published on 17 Nov 2013


Conspiracy Culture presents MK-Ultra & Project Monarch special event featuring Roseanne Barr,
Mark Phillips, and Cathy O'Brien speaking on mind control at Trinity St Paul's United Church in
downtown Toronto on October 20th 2013. With speeches Q&A, Meet & Greet and Book Signing
with the authors of Trance Formation of America / Access Denied: For Reasons of National Security
Cathy O'Brien and Mark Phillips, plus an intro by TV-legend Roseanne Barr and hosted by Patrick
Whyte of Conspiracy Culture, more event info: http://www.conspiracyculture.com/even...

=========================================================


Roseanne Barr talks about MK ULTRA mind control in Hollywood

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[Cidersomerset]

This ties in with some of the posts on Jacks Hitler thread, where we
touched on the cabal who runs Banksters etc have funded eugenics,
Hollywood /media control where they drip feed all these ideas....


CIA / MK-ULTRA Hearings - Survivor Testimony 1996

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============================================

Stanley Kubrick was allowed to expose some of this in his movies
from Dr.No . 2001, Clock work orange, The Shinning and his final
movies Eyes Wide Shut ,where he covers a lot of the Satanic
activities of the elites who run the world, and AI which was
finished by Stephen Spielberg and would have been different
if Kubrik had not died.....


Mind control scene 'Clock work Orange'...Escena rehabilitacion Alex

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Kubrick's Odyssey: Secrets Hidden in the Films of Stanley Kubrick

qySnL38JpOg

====================================================

[jackovesk]

Who could ever forget that incident where Cathy had to show ((Hitlary Clinton)) her mutilated Vagina...:shocked:

Some thoughts/images are pretty hard to shake...:scared:



PSS - Finally found the original Clip...:fear:

((WARNING)) Do not watch if your squeamish...:nono:

Video Link - http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x12ard_cathy-o-brien-the-most-dangerous-ga_shortfilms

[thunder24]

don't believe everything about mark and cathy... don't bite hook line and sinker...

[Cidersomerset]

A side thought while I think of it, while listening to Mark Phillips talking about
being recognised/recruited as a child and Cathys reference to child abuse victims,
which still goes on see 'The Jimmy saville ' thread and others..

Also the radical medical experiments committed by the NAZIS and others
before and since was gathered together after WW11 in projects such
as 'paper clip' etc......

Bear with me ...LOL....Andrew Basiagos seemingly outrageous claims
start with him being recruited with many others as very young Children.
Along with famous establishment figures including current US presdent
Barry Soetoro .....

I just mention this as I'm finding many of these topics and threads
we discuss are related, even more deeply than we all ready
thought, knew or suspected.......

We know the CIA runs many covert operations and funding particularly drugs.
Afghanistan is particularly a classic case. The year before 9/11 the Taliban had
virtually stopped the Fluorishing drugs trade run by the Afghan Northern War Lords
who were allied with NATO forces as soon as the Bush/Chaney gang invaded
after the 9/11 psyops and low and behold the poppy fields were harvested
and the drug trafficking business was and still is up and running again.

Theres much more and this has been going on in the modern sense for over
200 yrs via the Rothchild cartels.......But probably goes back thousands of
years with the manipulation of humanity by possible external 'entities,'....!!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two quick mind control stories today at various levels.......First the Cabal is
desperate to get the now 'happy unified' UK ...LOL to join the psyop against
the cabal sponsored ISIS in Iraq/ Syria with the goal of toppling President Assad.....

The second which would be funny if not so ironic , Abu Qatada , Brittons Bin Laden
has been cleared of terrorism charges after years of the British establishment
telling us he was no.1 Mr.Evil in the UK......




Parliament 'set to be recalled' over Islamic State action

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-29339787

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Abu Qatada cleared of terror charges

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-29340656

[sigma6]

What impressed me most about the article is how she is showing by example that knowledge of mind control isn't good or bad, like Mark said it's been around for thousands of years... And the fact that the very idea of it is so repressed and squirreled away in Universities and in "complex psychological jargon", etc. Yet it is very clear to me, that Mark has shown Cathy how to use it to better herself and use it in a positive way.

It's not the gun. It's the shooter...

In Part 2, Cathy shows a profound level of insight and philosophical acumen, that would rival that of many that I have ever read or studied, yet at the same time it is a very fundamental approach. This is a real practical example that others can actually learn from. This is what people should be focusing on. They are using the tools of "mind control" "subliminal programming" etc. in a positive way to focus their minds on their goals... They are real life legitimate whistleblowers...

I think Part 2 really lays it out in incredible candid detail and insight. What they did was smart, but it still shows how our Crime Syndicate Government operates by making it so difficult for whistleblowers. I also see this as an example of how equity (ultimate truth, fairness, right) Can be used in a practical application. To "force" the government to "recognize" (at least in the public) That's the real irony here. But nonetheless they have achieved it. And for that, I have no doubt they are living a razor's edge every day of their lives...

Try and focus on the philosophical element of their thinking and how they arrived where they are today... How she has learned how to express "her truth" and "her opinions" and "her beliefs" and how this has empowered her... That we could all be so focused and articulate... And the underlying premises that allowed her to get there. She shouldn't be alive really. She is a walking, talking miracle, a survivor. One of the few that lived to tell the TRUTH.




140731 - Cathy O'Brien, Mark Phillips - MK Ultra & The CIA - 1 of 2
http://www.4shared.com/mp3/4ZCHUUjGce/140731_-_Cathy_OBrien__Mark_Ph.html



140731 - Cathy O'Brien, Mark Phillips - MK Ultra & The CIA - 1 of 2
http://www.4shared.com/mp3/XHJeOJIUba/140731_-_Cathy_OBrien__Mark_Ph.html

(share with care ;)

[Cidersomerset]

I just looked on David Ickes headline page for the first time today and this is what I
mean Todays MK Ultra variants are happening as we speak. Earlier today I was
listening to the Nicky Cambell show on BBC five live radio aprox 10amm when I
popped out in the car.They were talking about the recall of Parliament over the vote
to join in the bombing of ISIS. They had a labour MP on from Cumbria saying we
should of voted yes last year and he wanted them to put it right this time. Then a
couple members of the public rang in against bombing and gave various good
reasons and just before it ended for the news they got onto the fact that Saudi
beheaded more people than ISIS which Nicky disputed , but was told there had
been 17 since August and Nicky had to cower down a bit , then unfortunely it
ended. But it was at least broadcast as it was live.......


===================================================

Parliament ‘set to be recalled’ over UK airstrikes against Islamic State

Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 11:48 By david-icke



British involvement was planned from the start and since way back. What I posted on August 18th:

http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/get-attachment-1010-587x411.jpg

‘Parliament is expected to be recalled on Friday to discuss the UK’s role in air
strikes against Islamic State in Iraq, the BBC understands.

Defence secretary Michael Fallon said he expects a recall.

There has been a reluctance to make the announcement while Labour’s conference
is under way, it is understood.

It is expected that there will be a formal request from the Iraqi prime minister later
on Wednesday for the UK to join in air strikes.’

Read more: Parliament 'set to be recalled' over UK airstrikes against Islamic State

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-29339787

===================================================


Concealed By U.S. Airstrikes Israel Opens Nusra Path To Lebanon

new Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 11:46 By david-icke


http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/get-attachment-155-587x459.jpg


‘Also today the Syrian airforce wanted to bomb Jabhat al-Nusra positions in the
Golan heights where Nusra is, as first reported here, opening a corridor from Jordan
towards Lebanon and for attacks on Damascus right along the demarcation line
between Israel and Syria. Israel, in quite open support effort for the Nusra plan,
shot down the Syrian SU-24 using U.S. provided Patriot missiles. While Israel
claims that the plane violated its border the reported crash site was far from the
border near Kanaker, Syria which is halfway between the demarcation line and Damascus.

Under the protection of the U.S. attack on IS and other targets Israel now
practically established a no-fly-zone next to the Golan which will allow Jabhat al-
Nusra to safely use the corridor and to attack Hizbullah in Qalamoun and in south
Lebanon. It also opens space for new attacks on Damascus.’

Read more: Concealed By U.S. Airstrikes Israel Opens Nusra Path To Lebanon

http://www.moonofalabama.org/2014/09/concealed-by-us-airstrikes-israel-opens-nusra-path-to-lebanon.html
==============================================================

Israeli Jets Sneak Into Syria

new Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 11:40 By david-icke


http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/get-attachment-4243-587x385.jpg

---------------------------------------------

rence.com.....

http://www.rense.com/general96/Israeli%20Jets%20Sneak%20into%20Syria_html_4bd09a2f.jpg

‘While the world watched and tried to categorize which nations had joined in the
USI attack on Syria: Israel attacked Syria as well from the air. Yes of course those
are American planes with that filthy Star of David attached ­ sneaking in to do their
deed, cowards to the end.’

Read more: Israeli Jets Sneak Into Syria


http://www.rense.com/general96/isjets.html


===================================================================

Islamic State battle could take years, Pentagon says

new Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 11:36 By david-icke


http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/get-attachment-711-587x382.jpg


‘US-led air strikes have disrupted Islamic State (IS) militants but the fight against
them will take years, a Pentagon spokesman has told the BBC.

The comments came as activists reported new strikes around the town of Kobane,
near Syria’s border with Turkey.

Kobane has been besieged by IS fighters for several days, forcing about 130,000
Syrian Kurds to flee into Turkey.’

Read more: Islamic State battle could take years, Pentagon says

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-29337800

=========================================================


Britain goes to war AGAIN: RAF poised for air strikes on jihadists

new Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 11:33 By david-icke


http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/get-attachment-208-587x330.jpg

THE EXPRESS.....

Britain goes to war AGAIN: RAF poised for air strikes on jihadists


http://cdn.images.express.co.uk/img/dynamic/1/590x/-514275.jpg

‘The Prime Minister will sign off British air strikes after meeting new Iraqi prime
minister Haider al-Abadi in New York. The decision

is likely to see MPs recalled for a Commons vote on military intervention as early as
Friday with RAF Tornado air strikes unleashed at the weekend.

Mr Cameron will also meet Iranian president Hassan Rouhani today in a bid to
shore up support in the volatile region.’

Read more: Britain goes to war AGAIN: RAF poised for air strikes on jihadists

http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/514275/David-Cameron-supports-US-air-strikes-on-Islamic-State-extremists-in-Syria-and-Iraq


=========================================================

What Bombs? Obama’s ‘Arab Coalition’ Were Only Cheerleaders in Syria Airstrike

new Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 11:23 By david-icke


http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/get-attachment-142-587x401.jpg


‘Much was made by U.S. President Barack Obama on Tuesday about his “Arab
Coalition”, as the US announced it had hit Islamic State (ISIS, ISIL, IS) terrorist
targets inside Syria overnight.

Very noticeably, Washington and the US media really went overboard all day,
stressing how its new Arab partners have finally answered the call, “taking the fight
to the terrorists”. But have they really?

Are the Arab partners really pulling their weight?’

Read more: What Bombs? Obama’s ‘Arab Coalition’ Were Only Cheerleaders in Syria Airstrike

http://21stcenturywire.com/2014/09/24/what-bombs-obamas-arab-coalition-only-cheerleaders-in-syria-airstrike/
====================================================

Who gave tem the Gas ?


Iraqi MPs: Hundreds of soldiers killed in ISIL gas attack in Anbar province

new Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 11:17 By david-icke

Z99RMGM6OqY

====================================================


‘In Iraq There Are Many Who Say That It Was The Americans Who Created ISIS’

Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 08:04 By david-icke

L3Deqcsq8Dk

====================================================

US seeking to reoccupy Iraq through anti-ISIL coalition: Ulrich

Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 06:43 By david-icke

http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/379797_us-war-iraq.jpg

‘American political analyst Soraya Sepahpour-Ulrich says the United States is
seeking to reoccupy Iraq and re-establish itself in the Persian Gulf region through its anti-ISIL coalition.

Ulrich, who is an independent researcher, public speaker and writer with a focus on
US foreign policy, made the remarks in an interview with Press TV on Tuesday.

On Monday, the Pentagon announced that the US and its allies have started
airstrikes against ISIL in Syria. Fighter aircraft from Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Qatar,
Bahrain and the United Arab Emirates took part in the airstrikes. The United States
has already conducted dozens of airstrikes against ISIL targets in Iraq since mid-August.’

http://www.presstv.ir/detail/2014/09/24/379797/us-seeking-to-reoccupy-iraq-ulrich/

[Cidersomerset]

Actually you can go down David Ickes Headline page today and nearly
all of it relates to mind control and the bigger picture....

http://www.davidicke.com/headlines/


On a fun note what did Roseanne Barr say about 'dope'...LOL


Cannabis dissolves cancerous tumor in young infant, deemed a ‘miracle baby’ by physician

Wednesday 24th September 2014 at 07:42 By david-icke

http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Woman-Mother-Baby-Infant-Happy.jpg


‘Instead of opting for chemotherapy and radiation in an attempt to shrink an inoperable brain tumor,
the father of an eight-month-old baby pushed for alternative treatment with cannabis oil. The baby’s
physician, Dr. William Courtney, was initially skeptical early in his career about cannabis as medicine
but has since seen such impressive results that he’s now a staunch advocate for its use.’

Read more: Cannabis dissolves cancerous tumor in young infant, deemed a 'miracle baby' by physician

http://www.naturalnews.com/046994_cannabis_cancerous_tumors_miracle_baby.html

[sigma6]

I thought I would share this, Thunder respectfully approached me in private with this, and I was in fact wanting to respond and find out what he was getting at. I think this is a very good point to share. I think it is relevant. I think it highlights relative vs absolute, in a world of infinite shades of gray.

I think it highlights something I try to emphasize as a central theme. The need for a set of values or a philosophical system of understanding the world. It goes by many names, creed, religion, value system, rules of conduct, principles of living, etc... This is the most important thing in the world to have. It becomes the foundation of everything else you do... and will determine many things in your life.




mark is a liar and a crook...

he and cathy were both welcomed into me and my roommates home for me nights and different times...
He gains ones trust, and then looks for holes within your personality to get from you what he can, usually in the form of money for personal gain...
I don't wanna high jack your thread, so i thought i would share with you privately... Mind control is neutral, employment
of techniques tips it to one side of scale or not... and he does a fabulous job...

peace

My response:
I wouldn't doubt that he has this potential in him like many people. In fact I could detect a sense of that in the interview. He is a unique character in the sense I don't see him as an altruist, or tree hugger, this is a guy who has a high level of knowledge of psychological application. A potentially dangerous man in his own right. He understands psychology and mind control technology as well as the the people he is exposing and fighting against. And I wondered at the "nature" of the relationship between them... (but that is another story and really none of my business... haha)

But I do believe he was exercising a higher principle and being honest in the sense he was probably the only guy who could have saved Cathy. Cathy is a definite credit to his character. Is it possible that there was more involved in his pursuit of helping her? Is it possible he has reached a point in his life where he is realizing the moral implications of the psychological skills and powers that he must surely have?... There is no doubt that when anyone does what he did for Cathy, that it is benefit to himself. It is a credit to his character and a measure of his capacity as a teacher and human being in general. These are real and tangible "benefits" I always contemplate the subtle dynamic between ultimate altruism and personal gain.

Nonetheless, I felt compelled to share this, because there was something that struck me in it, because it is recent. I felt I heard something very candid and dynamic in their interview. Cathy really did articulate a very difficult philosophical interpretation very well. That takes more than just parrot like repeating. I don't doubt that she has a high level of intelligence in her own right, and ironically, as a direct result of her abuse. All these things fascinate me as a student of psychology and perception manipulation.

These kinds of people are dangerous. Just as anyone who carries a gun would be. It is a systemic problem with all people with highly developed skills in areas such as psychology, statistics, mind control, marketing, advertising, sales, political analysis and public relations, etc. There is ALWAYS a temptation to use it for personal gain, especially when you might be in personal or financial need. I don't think anyone is perfect. But it is these types of people who more then others, truly need a solid philosophical value system. They, more than others are more prone to walking a razor's edge. Knowledge is power. Knowledge is a dual edge sword.

So your comment doesn't surprise me in the least... and it brings up many issues of context, degree, and other variables I don't doubt.



On another note:
This is why philosophy is the most important knowledge. And also why I pursue the interpretation and understanding of equity (as a fundamental philosophical interpretation) Which in turn necessitates, researching and interpreting "biblical text" (especially in Western culture) Since that is a text that actually embodies the principles of equity, more than almost any other text, in many regards. If you want to understand the mechanism that underlies government, law, legal interpretations (and for me all that ultimately goes to equity and trust interpretation...) I like starting at the base. I like going back to the original source. Just as understanding DOS will help one immeasurably in understanding certain aspects of Windows 7 for example.

For example, I now believe statutory "law" (an oxymoron, since in fact it is nothing more than corporate codes and regulations based on hidden consent based contract laws in many instances) is actually a simplified system for the masses, with a built in control mechanism. And in today's sophisticated world of constantly evolving "technology" and "technology application" This statutory governing system is something to be avoided at all costs and overcome in my mind... It's not good or evil. It just is. That is the system we live in. There is no short cut. The only antithesis being to make the decision to educate yourself, by studying and learning higher levels of knowledge to essentially replace it.

hmm... maybe some day I will make use of my degree after all... lol...




140731 - Cathy O'Brien, Mark Phillips - MK Ultra & The CIA - 1 of 2
http://www.4shared.com/mp3/4ZCHUUjGce/140731_-_Cathy_OBrien__Mark_Ph.html



140731 - Cathy O'Brien, Mark Phillips - MK Ultra & The CIA - 1 of 2
http://www.4shared.com/mp3/XHJeOJIUba/140731_-_Cathy_OBrien__Mark_Ph.html

(share with care ;)

[norman]

tvA2ED1FkR4



Published on Feb 11, 2017
Visit http://www.DarkJournalist.com

MKULTRA Survivor Cathy O'Brien
In this fascinating episode Dark Journalist Daniel Liszt welcomes United States Government Whistleblower Cathy O'Brien the author of the classic book on Covert Mind Control programs, Trance Formation of America. The book was based on Cathy's groundbreaking testimony for the US Congressional Permanent Select Committees on Intelligence Oversight in 1995.

Cathy's fascinating journey through the world of Deep Political Corruption and Covert CIA Programs began when her abusive father sold her into MKULTRA Mind Control Programs at an early age in Michigan through his political connections with local politicians, including future President of the United States Gerald Ford.

Through systematic torture and well documented trauma-based mind control programming, Cathy was forced to do shocking acts as a sex slave and participate in CIA Black Ops and White House/Pentagon level operations during the Reagan/Bush Administration. During this period she interfaced with high-level political figures including Hillary and Bill Clinton, former President George Bush Sr. and former Vice President Dick Cheney.

Breaking free of her mind control programming and Dissociative Identity Disorder with the help of intelligence insider Mark Phillips over the course of a decade, Cathy exposed the insidious world of criminal covert operations happening inside Black Budget operations connected with the Pentagon and intelligence agencies, including human trafficking and extensive drug running programs.

Deep State efforts to suppress her testimony culminated in the National Security Act being invoked to silence her and continue right up to the present. Nonetheless Cathy's latest venture was to create a new workbook, PTSD: Time to Heal that actually allows trauma and sexual abuse victims to reclaim conscious control and deep connection to their inner memories.

Her story has touched thousands of survivors of mind control programming and dark political manipulation and given the public a transparent and shockingly honest vision of the hidden worlds of covert intelligence operations that exist and thrive behind a wall of National Security State secrecy.

Riveting, informative, startling, unnerving and alarming, you don't want to miss this fascinating Dark Journalist episode with US Government Whistleblower Cathy O'Brien.

[onawah]

Did Cathy O'Brien ever mention Trump?

[norman]

I'm still listening.

[RunningDeer]

These are a couple of spots I loosely transcribed. I look forward to Part Two. Yesterday, I ordered "PTSD: Time To Heal." To my surprise, it’ll arrive tomorrow according to the 2nd email notification. I opted for the cheapest shipping method. The book info is added at the bottom.

Cathy OBrien's website: trance-formation.com (http://trance-formation.com)




@ 15:12 (https://youtu.be/tvA2ED1FkR4?t=15m12s) - The first initial ground base of global education was called, ‘America 2000’. When the program was exposed, the name changed to ‘Goals 2000’ and now it’s called ‘Common Core’. It’s designed to increase the children’s learning capacity while decreasing their ability to critically analyze. This program pumps information in their head where it’s taken in on a subconscious level. It lacks the creative conscious ability of application for thinking it through, for questioning it, and researching it further. Common Core also deliberately distorts history so that people didn’t have a proper knowledge base.


*****



Cathy O’Brien: …And without conscious thought there’s no ability to reason, to question, to consciously comprehend, to critically analyze, to apply any knowledge.


@ 39:35 (https://youtu.be/tvA2ED1FkR4?t=39m35s)

Daniel, a.k.a.the Dark Journalist - When you are in the state of trauma based mind control, time seemed to disappear.

Cathy O’Brien - The brain instinctually shuts down the neural-pathways when there’s trauma so the rest of the mind will function normally. I couldn’t think to bring to mind that trauma. I couldn’t think to remember it at all because that’s just the way the brain works.

When my father would sexually abuse me again, the part of the brain that would open up to deal with that abuse over and over again as needed. That kind of natural compartmentalization within the brain is what the governments figured is that would be a good place to store government secrets because what better place to store it in the mind of someone who couldn’t think to tell the secrets.

So I couldn’t think to do that with no conscious mind happening. The more trauma I experienced deliberately, the more deliberate compartmentalization and mind controlled programing that I endured in MKUltra mind control, the less room in my mind anymore for conscious thought. And without conscious thought there’s no ability to reason, to question, to consciously comprehend, to critically analyze, to apply any knowledge. I could only robotically do what I was told to do as I was triggered into different modes of operation.

Daniel, a.k.a.the Dark Journalist - I see. So that’s the state you’re in when time just disappears.

Cathy O’Brien - Without conscious thought, there’s no awareness of conscious thought. Because a concept of time equates to a concept of awareness. And not being aware of what was happening or not having any control over that or any conscious thought, I didn’t know from one event to the next what had happen before. So there was no continuity of thought and no continuity of time in my mind. So it was totally timeless to me. So much so that if I was completely physically exhausted by in one compartment of the brain that the next compartment of the brain had no conscious awareness of the exhaustion where it would be fresh and new again.

It can even move to that extent which is why my controllers used on the US military because it gives them super, super human capabilities. It also allows for super human traits like 44 times more visual acuity. Because when there’s no conscious thought it’s as though the subconscious mind will develop heightened senses in other directions to make up for it. Much the same way a blind person has acute hearing. The brain will make up for it.


*****

“PTSD: Time To Heal (https://www.amazon.com/PTSD-Time-Heal-Cathy-OBrien/dp/0692776419),” by: Cathy OBrien, October 8, 2016




[I]Their journey to release PTSD: Time to Heal has been politically strenuous until now! Positive change through public awareness and overwhelming global demand prompted this release of otherwise suppressed easy to follow step-by-step healing methods Mark taught Cathy for successfully reclaiming her mind and life after decades of torturous MK Ultra mind control.




http://paula.avalonlibrary.net/Photoshop/ptsd_zpszy0jivkh.JPG

Amazon Summary:
(The book is also available elsewhere (https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=%E2%80%9CPTSD:Time+To+Heal,%E2%80%9D+by:+Cathy+OBrien&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8#newwindow=1&q=PTSD:+Time+To+Heal%2BCathy+O%27Brien).)




25 year veteran US Government Whistleblowers Mark and Cathy are arming you with the self-applying concise facts they teach leading mental health professionals worldwide. Whether your traumatic experience peaks the top of PTSD's sliding scale the way Cathy's Pentagon level MK Ultra mind control programming did; or is from the horrors of war; or even if it is simply resultant from socially engineered information control and fears, this book is for you. These step by step healing methods intelligence insider Mark Phillips taught Cathy can help anyone willing to reclaim control over their own mind and life just as she did.

Their journey to release PTSD: Time to Heal has been politically strenuous until now! Positive change through public awareness and overwhelming global demand prompted this release of otherwise suppressed easy to follow step-by-step healing methods Mark taught Cathy for successfully reclaiming her mind and life after decades of torturous MK Ultra mind control.

Since PTSD: Time to Heal is a workbook journal, it is not authorized in either eBook form or used copy. From it's cover to unconventional layout to insights within, PTSD: Time to Heal reverberates with introspective inspirations.

[Cardillac]

it's about time more people are sourcing Cathy O'Brien other than David Icke; I think the woman is truly genuine and is telling the truth; if I recall correctly both of her books are now available gratis/for free on the internet-

be well all-

Larry

[Mike]

After I finished "transformation of america" I walked out of my house and felt like a strange man in a strange land. I felt like I knew something nobody else knew.....and at the time I wasnt sure that was a good thing. The world ceased to make sense. Sure, cars were still going up and down the road, the birds were chirping, the sun shining, but I felt as though these were merely props for a play. And I felt like a character in that play...a play that I had once embraced as real but was now realising wasn't. And yet, the play was the whole world, and there was no way to escape it.

It was akin to a bad acid trip, only I never snapped out of it. Ive been experiencing that trip ever since. It's made me question reality in ways that I sometimes regret. The whole blue pill, red pill thing...

Im convinced this woman is telling the truth about her experiences...and that scares me. This isnt cute pillow talk about reptilians and the illuminatti by the campfire. This is a very real experience..and the ramifications are endlessly disturbing

[TrumanCash]

it's about time more people are sourcing Cathy O'Brien other than David Icke; I think the woman is truly genuine and is telling the truth; if I recall correctly both of her books are now available gratis/for free on the internet-

be well all-

Larry

Beware of Pirated/Modified Content (http://trance-formation.com/2017/01/10/beware-of-pirated-content/)

January 10, 2017 by Cathy O'Brien

Please purchase authentic materials directly from the author.

IMPORTANT ALERT:

Be aware! Continuous reports of free internet pirated/counterfeited pdf copies of our books containing deliberate misinformation are rising at an alarming rate. This deliberately generated misinformation is intended to dilute, distort, and undermine our whistleblowing efforts on Truth that makes u.s. free. Therefore any/all eBook copies of TRANCE Formation of America and/or ACCESS DENIED For Reasons Of National Security are NOT AUTHORIZED and LICENSED aside from Kindle. PTSD:Time To Heal is a self help workbook and therefore is avaliable in hard-copy only.

To Purchase Our books please use the links below:

Order Directly from Mark & Cathy (http://trance-formation.com/buy-cathy-obrien-books-official/)

Get the books! The best way to support Mark & Cathy in their quest for justice and truth is to get the books directly from the source. (http://trance-formation.com/buy-cathy-obrien-books-official/)

[TrumanCash]

Thanks for posting this recent video, Norman. In my view Cathy and Mark are real heroes. It takes a lot of courage and tenacity to stand up to the criminal elitists for such a long time.

I first met Cathy and Mark in 1995 when they first published TRANCE FORMATION OF AMERICA. It was also the year that I self-published my first book so we swapped books. I've noticed a very noticeable change in Cathy. She seems so much more positive now and genuinely happy. They have both worked so hard for the past twenty-five years to awaken people to the horrendous and psychopathic activities of the elitists, pedophiles and "military intelligence" thugs. So it is good that they see their efforts are finally paying off. I am looking forward to reading Cathy's new book.

[Cardillac]

@TrumanCash

I read both books in their paper-published versions (still have both books on my bookshelf)-

Larry

[Cardillac]

@Mike

I couldn't agree with you more; but I just think we must all stand together and realize there's an incredible evil out there that explodes the mind; but once we can become aware of this incredible evil and that it actually exists we can be rid of it in a matter of minutes; it's only a matter of awareness-

Larry

[DebJoy]

Did Cathy O'Brien ever mention Trump?

She mentioned how good it was that Hillary had NOT been elected in 2016 - very vocal about that. She talked about both Bill (in general) and Hillary (her perversions) She did not mention Trump as being included in the group of politicians participating in the sexual abuse etc. In TranceFormation of America she mentions way too many politicians in office for the last 50 years. It's a book well worth reading - be prepared for sobering and disturbing information. You can find short online excerpts of her books and her talks which specifically mention the Clintons, the Bushes, Gerald Ford and more. I believe she is telling the truth, and she and her now-husband (originally her rescuer) have done way too much over the DECADES to be able to stay safe and alive.

[RunningDeer]

http://paula.avalonlibrary.net/Recovered/writing_zpsd26h7e8a.GIF Cathy O’Brien’s latest book, “PTSD: Time to Heal,” arrived today. It’s only 92 pages and within those are places for notes. There’s no “Table of Contents”. (added below)

I read two chapters: ‘Triggers’ and ‘Deprogram the Program First’. I made myself put it down to thoroughly digest and process. If I get nothing else from this book, I’ve already received helpful memory connections and ah-has.

Table of Contents

Time to heal - 8
Writing Wrongs - 12
Safety First - 15
Triggers - 19
Food for Thought - 26
Deprogram the Program First - 33
Well Being and Being Well - 39
Coping Skills - 45
Break Routine - 51
Perceptions and Semantics - 57
Deep Listen - 63
Dust Pieces and Reflection - 68
Loving Support - 72
Brain Games - 76
Sexuality and Living Love True-to-Soul - 81
People Helping People - 85
PTSD: Time to Heal - quick review for writing out memory - 91

[onawah]

Thanks Debjoy, very helpful post. I listened to the interview with Dark Journalist, and I knew about her experiences, but never researched it thoroughly.
It's interesting that she felt Trump's election was a victory for voters, but I didn't know if she had ever mentioned Trump in any other context before in her books, etc., which is why I asked.
But it sounds like she does not include him in the cast of seriously perverted elite abusers such as the Clintons, and that's encouraging, coming from her.

Trump, through a spokesperson, said, "Mr. Trump only knew Mr. Epstein as Mr. Trump owns the hottest and most luxurious club in Palm Beach, [redacted], and Mr. Epstein would go there on occasion."



Did Cathy O'Brien ever mention Trump?

She mentioned how good it was that Hillary had NOT been elected in 2016 - very vocal about that. She talked about both Bill (in general) and Hillary (her perversions) She did not mention Trump as being included in the group of politicians participating in the sexual abuse etc. In TranceFormation of America she mentions way too many politicians in office for the last 50 years. It's a book well worth reading - be prepared for sobering and disturbing information. You can find short online excerpts of her books and her talks which specifically mention the Clintons, the Bushes, Gerald Ford and more. I believe she is telling the truth, and she and her now-husband (originally her rescuer) have done way too much over the DECADES to be able to stay safe and alive.

[onawah]

How the mind treats "impossible things that couldn't be happening
February 13, 2017
By Jon Rappoport
( Rappaport uses medically caused deaths as the example in his article, but it could just as well be mind control/sexual abuse as well. We need to understand much better how our minds deal with trauma and "unbelievable" information. )

I recently published an article that highlighted the numbers of medically caused deaths in America.

When little fragmentary stories about this fact emerge in the mainstream press, they're one-offs. There is no serious follow-up and no deep investigation. Therefore, the public isn't aroused.

On May 3, 2016, the Washington Post ran an article detailing deaths from medical errors. This bomb dropped: doctors' errors account for "about 9.5 percent of all deaths annually in the United States."

Let that sink in.

Roughly one out of every 10 deaths in the US is caused by medical errors. (Under "errors," you can include a wide range of toxic treatment.)

No major newspaper or news network pounds on this factoid day after day. It's here and then it's gone. It's on the level of: "The last seven presidents have been assassinated. And now, here's the weather."

Something else is going on, too. I'll lay it out for you.

Most of the general public, and many reporters, can't even begin to absorb that medical-death statistic. It bounces off them.

They either reject it out of hand, misread it, or fail to transport it to the part of their mind where they think about things.

The statistic is virtually invisible to them.

"Let's see, 10% of all deaths in America are caused by the medical system. REJECTED."

I even had one person tell me ten percent "wasn't very much."

I've had people change the subject rapidly when I presented them with the statistic.

"Car accidents are terrible. My aunt was in a car crash and she..."

So it isn't just major media. People are running their own fake news operation on themselves.

This has been called "cognitive dissonance" or some other fancy name.

It's just the "bounce phenomenon." A fact bounces off a person. It has no effect.

I've dealt with this for more than 30 years as a reporter. I'm in the business of presenting "bounce-able" facts. I've seen the full array of reactions, time and time again.

ONE OUT OF EVERY TEN DEATHS IN AMERICA IS CAUSED BY THE MEDICAL SYSTEM.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

Here is another process that goes on in the mind. It starts this way: WELL, IF THAT WERE TRUE, THEN...

The person starts to think about the boggling fact. He starts to flesh out the implications. And he stops. Because the implications are too much. His mental processes and his basic orientation aren't flexible enough to deal with them.

I've been interviewed and watched this happen. The interviewer begins to absorb what I've just told him, and he quickly backs away and redirects the conversation. Or tries to. I bring him back to the boggling fact. But it's like trying to drive a faulty car. He just can't make it. He stalls. His wheels spin, and then he gets out of the car and moves on to something else.

Here is a paraphrase of such an exchange. The interviewer was telling me about the purported effects of a disease he claimed was being caused by a virus. I happened to know the virus had never been isolated from a single human being, so I asked him:

"How many deaths would you say occur from the disease, every year in the US?"

He puffed up his chest a bit and said, "At least a thousand. It's terrible."

I said, "Well, did you know that the medical system is the third leading cause of death in America, behind heart disease and cancer?"

BOUNCE. NOTHING REGISTERED.

He said, "This virus I'm talking about can spread rapidly..."

Bounce.

Perhaps the most interesting conversation I've ever had illustrating the bounce phenomenon occurred at the home of an acquaintance who is a psychologist. I mentioned that every year in the US the medical system kills a minimum of 225,000 people, and then I got part-way into explaining how most people don't even register the fact when they come across it.

He launched into a major lecture about cognitive dissonance, deploying a few pseudo-technical terms I'd never heard of. I let him go on for a few minutes and then I stopped him. I asked, "Can you remember what I said that started you down this path?"

He scratched his chin, thought about it, and said no.

In his case, the bounce brought on a case of outright amnesia.

Of course, I've mentioned medically caused death to doctors. Their comments go something like this: "That couldn't be true." "That was just one study."

Then I say no, there are other confirming studies, and I cite them. At that point the big bounce happens, and they change the subject. Or they look at their watches. Or they walk away.

I've found reporters more honest---as long as I'm talking to them off the record, and preferably after a few drinks. One reporter said, "I know. But we can't write about that. We'd get reamed out."

I don't care what journalism schools and editors claim the profession is all about. I know what it's about. You overturn reality. That's what you do.

In the process, you reveal there are people who are creating that reality for all of us.

And if that is true, and it is, then each individual is capable of inventing his own reality. A better one.

Along the way, certain facts are going to jump up out of the hopper that tear conventional thinking and perception to shreds.

TEN PERCENT OF ALL DEATHS IN AMERICA ARE CAUSED BY THE MEDICAL SYSTEM.

"Wow. That would make it the third leading cause of death. That means the more people who are in the system, the more deaths. The public has to know about this..."

No bounce.

Ah, now we're on to something.

After I finished "transformation of america" I walked out of my house and felt like a strange man in a strange land. I felt like I knew something nobody else knew.....and at the time I wasnt sure that was a good thing. The world ceased to make sense. Sure, cars were still going up and down the road, the birds were chirping, the sun shining, but I felt as though these were merely props for a play. And I felt like a character in that play...a play that I had once embraced as real but was now realising wasn't. And yet, the play was the whole world, and there was no way to escape it.

It was akin to a bad acid trip, only I never snapped out of it. Ive been experiencing that trip ever since. It's made me question reality in ways that I sometimes regret. The whole blue pill, red pill thing...

Im convinced this woman is telling the truth about her experiences...and that scares me. This isnt cute pillow talk about reptilians and the illuminatti by the campfire. This is a very real experience..and the ramifications are endlessly disturbing

[RunningDeer]

CATHY O’BRIEN & DARK JOURNALIST - CIA SEX SLAVE WHISTLEBLOWER
PROJECT MONARCH EXPOSED! - Part Two
trance-formation.com (http://trance-formation.com)

A snippet from the video @ 36:18 (https://youtu.be/G3UuO8ReJaE?t=36m18s).

Daniel, a.k.a. Dark Journalist: If there is someone out there who’s in one of these programs, and I know there are different levels out there, like you said it’s a sliding scale with mind control, what kind of advice would you have for them?

Cathy O’Brien: They wouldn’t understand advice. They wouldn’t have the capacity to grasp it.

Daniel: I see. So while they are in that state, they can’t be reached with just advice.

Cathy O’Brien: If someone had come up to me while I was under mind control and said I was on under mind control I would have no ability to consciously grasp that reality to have done anything about it. So it takes people knowing and understanding the components of mind control. The fact that it is a sliding scale, … through “PTSD: Time To Heal (https://www.amazon.com/PTSD-Time-Heal-Cathy-OBrien/dp/0692776419),” it shows how people can help those that they love to be able to begin the journey back to reclaiming control over their own minds and life.


G3UuO8ReJaE

Published on Feb 17, 2017

Visit: http://www.DarkJournalist.com

Cathy O'Brien MKULTRA Survivor

In this exhilarating and highly informative part 2 interview with MKULTRA Survivor Cathy O'Brien, Dark Journalist Daniel Liszt goes deep into her CIA MKULTRA mind control programming and the methods employed to keep her in a robotic state in order to carry out top secret black budget missions and sexual favors to politicians against her will.

Project Monarch

Cathy outlines some of her fascinating and disturbing experiences in the Project Monarch program and reveals how it targets young people through the music industry by creating zombified recording acts and electronic forms of brain entrainment via suggestion and hidden overtone harmonics that effect the brains neural pathways.

CIA Mormons and the Osmonds

She describes how Senator George Romney, the father of Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney, was involved and how the Monarch programming was deployed to help the Mormon Church gain acceptance in the 1970's through the music phenomena of the Osmonds and how other musical groups like the Jacksons were deeply involved as puppets of the program.

She also reveals how high level figures like Senator Robert Byrd, who was Cathy's owner in the program and a strong mentor to Bill and Hillary Clinton, got her involved in drug running operations out of Mena Arkansas as a Sex Slave and Robotic Courier of implanted messages and sexual favors to the Criminal Political Figures involved.

On a deeply personal note, she describes the bitter battle with the Justice Department to free her daughter from corrupt social services and how she feels now about her depraved father who sold her into the horrid MKULTRA mind control effort at an early age. Cathy's father is still alive today and protected from prosecution due to reasons of 'National Security."

Fascinating, disturbing, revealing and controversial, you don't want to miss this exciting Dark Journalist episode with courageous Whistleblower Cathy O'Brien!

[seleka]

After I finished "transformation of america" I walked out of my house and felt like a strange man in a strange land. I felt like I knew something nobody else knew.....and at the time I wasnt sure that was a good thing. The world ceased to make sense. Sure, cars were still going up and down the road, the birds were chirping, the sun shining, but I felt as though these were merely props for a play. And I felt like a character in that play...a play that I had once embraced as real but was now realising wasn't. And yet, the play was the whole world, and there was no way to escape it.

It was akin to a bad acid trip, only I never snapped out of it. Ive been experiencing that trip ever since. It's made me question reality in ways that I sometimes regret. The whole blue pill, red pill thing...

Im convinced this woman is telling the truth about her experiences...and that scares me. This isnt cute pillow talk about reptilians and the illuminatti by the campfire. This is a very real experience..and the ramifications are endlessly disturbing


I feel the same way. I don't understand how people can just go about their lives as if this isn't happening. Once you take the blinders off and see what is real, everything changes IMO. I read tranceformation of america over 5 years ago, maybe even 10 years ago. I wasn't sure of any of it when I read it, but after all the other things that have surfaced which are related it is true we know now. Plus the fact that no one has sued her or ever countered her claims! Why isn't there a posse formed yet? I think there may be anyway, I think Trump is going to squash it.

The thing is to know all this alone. I don't know about you, but the two people in my life don't want to hear about it and summarily dismiss it if it is brought up. Its like the emails though, if the horse will not go to the water and drink, how do we get more to know the truth? I think it will come down to a screen outside the white house- showing these things for what they are.

[RunningDeer]

Pizzagate, The Deep State & SOULutions - Cathy O’Brien
Begins @ 5:00 (https://youtu.be/MXOpX4OMMQc?t=5m00s)




Are we creating trauma where there is none? Mainstream media is pushing an agenda demonizing sex victim, Milo, while ignoring deep state pedophilia. What do you do when you don't know you are under mind control? How will we get back to nurture? Is the Feminist Movement feminine? Even if the media says that Donald Trump is killing puppies, can we have any hope in the new President? Find out what it is like to be a Presidential Mind Control Slave.


MXOpX4OMMQc

Published on Feb 25, 2017

http://freemantv.com/

Are we creating trauma where there is none? Mainstream media is pushing an agenda demonizing sex victim, Milo, while ignoring deep state pedophilia. What do you do when you don't know you are under mind control? How will we get back to nurture? Is the Feminist Movement feminine? Even if the media says that Donald Trump is killing puppies, can we have any hope in the new President? Find out what it is like to be a Presidential Mind Control Slave.

Visit Trance-Formation.com
(http://trance-formation.com)
Cathy O’Brien is a nationally and internationally recognized US Government Whistleblower on the subject of MK Ultra mind control and healing from it.

In 1995 when the US National Security Act was invoked on her testimony for US Congressional Permanent Select Committees on Intelligence Oversight, it was released en masse through her book she wrote with Mark Phillips TRANCE Formation of America.

[gord]

I read Trance Formation of America when it was first published.

[DNA]

After I finished "transformation of america" I walked out of my house and felt like a strange man in a strange land. I felt like I knew something nobody else knew.....and at the time I wasnt sure that was a good thing. The world ceased to make sense. Sure, cars were still going up and down the road, the birds were chirping, the sun shining, but I felt as though these were merely props for a play. And I felt like a character in that play...a play that I had once embraced as real but was now realising wasn't. And yet, the play was the whole world, and there was no way to escape it.

It was akin to a bad acid trip, only I never snapped out of it. Ive been experiencing that trip ever since. It's made me question reality in ways that I sometimes regret. The whole blue pill, red pill thing...

Im convinced this woman is telling the truth about her experiences...and that scares me. This isnt cute pillow talk about reptilians and the illuminatti by the campfire. This is a very real experience..and the ramifications are endlessly disturbing


I'm with you. Cathy put me on a series of paradigm shifts and mental shimmers of cognitive dissonance.
There are certain mindsets you use when dealing with the information we are all interfacing on this alternative information scene.
Before Cathy O'Brien I had trouble wrestling with GMO's, pesticides and immunizations. The mindset I used to view these evils would be the Greedy/Selfish view, in that there was no intent to destroy lives it was just the cheapest way of doing business so to speak.
Cathy O'Brien shattered that mindset view.
I soon realized that true evil existed with the intent and goal of harming human beings, from infant children to aged veterans and everyone in-between.
Cathy O'Brien opened my eyes to the truth in so far as the Governments intent for us.
And for folks who are wondering, I'm of the opinion that Trump is realizing this and fighting it on whatever level he can.
I pray and hope there are enough good guys in Government who will jump on this opportunity to right the ship so to speak.

[RunningDeer]

I read Trance Formation of America when it was first published.

I'm about 90% finished with "PTSD (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?95963-CATHY-O-BRIEN-Talks-to-Dark-Journalist.....&p=1133862&viewfull=1#post1133862)" and due to come in on Tuesday is "Access Denied: For Reasons of National Security (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/096601653X/ref=od_aui_detailpages00?ie=UTF8&psc=1)".

[Flash]

I was still walking by having my life when I read Cathy O'Brien material for one simple reason: when a late teenager, I became friend with a girl my age whose dad has sold her to lots of men since she was 4 years old. And this father was not even in anything satanistic and she was not sold to MkUltra. Just pure greedy evil man, in cohout with his male friends. So the extra stretch towards understanding MkUltra programming was not that difficult to make. She was (my teenage friend) however an emotional mess, but still managed to go to therapy, make a career, have a husband and managed her life in a quite normal fashion (with some elements sometimes off, but not enough to unbalance her life).

So i knew, from my teenager times, that terrible things can happen to children and young adults and women, and that not much can be done as long as this system is protected except in a private fashion where we can help but only sometimes.

Since, rape and pedophilia maybe as if not more prevalent, but also much more in the open. No more secrets, getting everything in the open, IS THE FIRST STEP to stop criminal behavior, in families and in societies.

It is ok now to sue for rape, for incest, for sexual harassment on jobs, for pedophilia victims, even if compensation and jail time in Canada are ridiculous when compared with the real damage created.

Some progress has been made, no doubt about this, albeit much too little. Before children and women had no help whatsoever and were not even listened, as it is still the case in many countries such as Afghanistan for example.

Hopefully, we will make a giant step in the coming years which will stop human exploitation and killings of any kind, starting with children and then women and men.

[Franny]

Just recently listened to this vid on survivors of satanic abuse. This YT channel is Bombard's Body Language and it looks at a variety of people.

The two that are shown here are a fifteen year old girl in England from the 1980s I believe and Cathy O'Brien. She explains the special language long term abuse survivors exhibit and why they are not often believed because of it.

I really don't like the thumbnail she used...

JXkeD2P8gjk

[Flash]

I have a real problem with Bombard's body language videos, in general - I am truly starting to think she is doing these videos only to make money. Why?

Because she misses tiny clues, over and over again, in each video she analyses, then she makes comments that are largely presumptions of what the people on the video are thinking or feeling, not based on true scientific analysis. I do think she is often beside the mark. You have to have at least 5 simultaneous micro or large cues to conclude to anything, and your conclusions have to be based on research. There is only 6 emotions that are universal and nobody can miss, we will always be on target. Apart from those 6 emotions, a very trained eye is necessary to have definitive conclusions.

However, it is better than nothing, those videos tell us to pay attention to non verbal language. Which is good. Interpreting them the ways she does however will probably have tons of imitations on the web that will be only destructive to those analyses and completely beside the truth.

True and thorough analysis from real experts is very credible and on target (more than lie detectors).

It is a shame those true experts will be compared with half knowledgeable people like Bombards and those true experts will be consequently discredited as Bombards and the whole field of non verbal language analysis will be because of half knowledgeable people doing half worth analysis.

I have studied non verbal language for years, I haven't not completed my studies for lack of time, and I would never dare doing what Bombards is doing (although I probably would be better at it), because I know how much I do not know yet. I would never conclude as she does, based on so little that she observes.

[Cardillac]

very sad news- he and Cathy did so much to expose to the general public the reality/horrors of mind-control on hapless victims- if you haven't yet done so please do read their books "Trance Formation of America" as well as "Access Denied Due to National Security"- albeit neither book is for the squeamish at heart- supposedly both books are now available for free in the internet (C. O'Brien stated "we don't want money- we just want the truth to be out there")

http://trance-formation.com/in-loving-memory-of-mark-phillips/

please stay well all-

Larry

[Mike]

Oh wow.. Some people seem so heroic that they can't possibly die. Mark was one of those people. An amazing human being.

Thanks for letting us know Larry

[Hym]

It takes such courage to make a difference. Much THANKS and Blessings to both of them!
Cathy's book.....

[Omni]

Very bad news. :(

[Hym]

I suggest, very highly, listening to the 4th video on the above site:

http://trance-formation.com/video/

Cathy's viewpoint on the emotional programming and trauma, beyond those she suffered, that are inflicted upon everyone exposed to the lies and manipulation of the media, entertainment (en-train-ment) and thru much of education itself, seems obvious to those of us who experienced trauma in a clinical setting. When PTSD is studied, even at a cursory level, it is easy to see how the insights in her books will help most anyone else also. Our reactions to abuse and lies often limits our ability to enjoy life and to progress beyond the barriers we have programmed into ourselves as natural, defensive reactions.

When I contacted Cathy some years ago about having had difficult childhood experiences at one of the institutions she wrote a chapter about, she was cautious in giving advice. She shared that I had to be aware of triggers when going deeper into any healing process. This gave me the time to go about this very, very long process, one I had already dealt with for years, differently than many others who didn't get thru it well, or not at all.

I have always found that handwriting out the depth of trauma has been my best therapy, as nothing else made any progress or revealed any understanding to me. However, typing the same info on this computer is not the same thing. I also find that once the healing and understanding have occurred from within it does help to burn the writing, sending it away with a positive thought, moving on.

In this 4th video Cathy notes something that I had disliked and rejected in taking my son to any 12 step program, ACA-adult children of alcoholics, after his mother died from her alcohol abuse (hospital entry, then staff neglect and ignorant procedure killing her). As my son and I have no addictions and are both natural born healers, it may have been easier for us to see thru those things that seemed to get us and those in the groups nowhere.

Group talking sessions as ptsd therapy, or substance abuse therapy, often further imbed the trauma, activating triggers that reinforce the behavior, most often as a victim. I do understand that for some the act of being heard is therapy that works to a degree in healing, but there are dangers in the words from others, the expressions of others that often hold that expression, that right to be heard, within those rooms alone. Ultimately, in the real world, our healing has to find life beyond the entirety of the subject itself.

I saw and felt no healing in those sessions, but I did see the exclusion of the original emphasis of the founder of AA upon nutrition and vitamin therapy, B3, niacinamide or inositol hexaniacinate and vitamin C.

I do see great value in listening to the common sense and experience backed approach that Cathy and Mark share. Mark, as few humans do, still lives a great life in the healing he and Cathy wrote about in their books.

May you too stand up to the abuse you have gone thru, remembering that unwarranted attacks upon you for doing your best to end abuse are a confirmation of the correctness of your actions.

Right Now and Always You have a right to live joyfully.

[Foxie Loxie]

In the end, it seems one just has to do what is best for one's self. Only each person knows what he or she has lived through, so I have often wondered how someone else can really "help" when it is not possible for them to truly relate to what one has been through. :confused: Apparently, Mark & Cathy HAVE been able to help others because of what they have lived through.

[Sequoia]

God bless them both for being on this planet and making a difference by touching a part in some people's psyche, including mine, by speaking/writing publicly about a taboo subject, namely TranceFormation of America - regardless of the fact that most people are not even aware of these two heroic people or their openly shared very personal journeys, the kind most of us would never want to disclose, to anyone. By being authentic and true, lead them to healing and self-rediscovery, empowerment and recovery - a story that has inspired others.

[jms2112]

OK, so somewhere I found this website: http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/transforusa/transformation.htm#contents and started reading it. Then I bought the book. I am having a hard time believing what is being said. I think it's true, but it is hard to believe that this is going on. I mean this stuff is CRAZY SICK. It's the story of a girl/woman that was recruited into the CIA MKUltra/Monarch mind control program and her life as a political sex slave.

What she recounts is utterly depraved. She outs presidents Ford, Reagan, Bush, and others such as Cheney, Sen. Byrd, Jim Traficant. These people are utterly demonic in their treatment of her. Raping, and brutalizing her for YEARS! Honestly I don't know how she survived. It must have been her life mission to be able to endure it to tell her story.

The other thing that is surprising is that this book has been out there for a long time (1995) so a lot of people must have read it. I bought it on Amazon lol. It really gave me a new understanding of how twisted and sick our government and the CIA is.

Anyways, just wanted to share that.
Jim

¤=[Post Update]=¤

Oh, and there were a bunch of music stars that also were CIA! Boxcar Willie, Kris Kristofferson, Jimmy Buffet... ! ugh Good grief.

[jms2112]

sorry - this is maybe a duplicate of this post: http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?99898-Mark-Phillips-Cathy-O-Brien-s-husband-has-passed

[Bluegreen]

Trance-Formation of America by Cathy O'Brien

http://media1.tenor.com/images/bc159e8d7192f9f2484ed6008674c632/tenor.gif?itemid=7603657

[sunwings]

I met an MK ULTRA trainer. The End Game. Long version

This is a fascinating account of an encounter a preacher had with a MKULTRA trainer. She explained to him the end game. It is a very concise story and worth the 11 minutes.

4FJc8izQOxA

[The Moss Trooper]

Hi Sunwings.

Are you able to say when this piece of video is from?

ETA: Oct 2017 is when it was published on YT.

Great piece of testimony. SO the plan is still on, in it's original form. Mass events', mass chaos, and a mass take-over.

Interesting times', no?

[Hervé]

[...]
This is a fascinating account of an encounter a preacher had with a MKULTRA trainer.
[...]
According to this other video, that is/was Svali (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?57210-Illuminati-Whistleblower-found-on-FB&p=652075&viewfull=1#post652075) (dates of encounter are in there):


SEeF1R0a15U

[Rebecca]

I have read the entire book and it was very eye opening. I'm unsure as to how valid every detail is, however, in my opinion I think she's mostly telling the truth

[Icare]

I only recently heard about Cathy O'Brien and her story and decided to read her first book.

I think it is one of the books nobody will enjoy reading, but at the same time it is a book everybody should read.

Normally I have no problem reading a book in a day, especially if it is about an interesting subject, but this one it took me several days to read because I had to put it down repeatedly, not only because the content is horrific but also in order to somehow process all this information.
My gut instinct is that what she writes is true, unfortunately, and if people have a problem believing her due to her apparent lack of emotion when talking about the subject in interviews, they should consider that emotionally detaching oneself from deeply disturbing and soul-crushing experiences is often the only way to keep it together. I find her completely credible.

The problem is this leaves me with a completely different view of politics these days. What disturbed me the most, apart from the obvious, is that it seems that there basically isn't a single decent human being around in the upper political circles. Each and every single one of the American presidents during Cathy O'Brien's time as a slave seems to have been in on the whole thing.
Right now I have lost all interest in following politics - not that the main stream news would really tell us what is going on, anyway - but I also think that completely withdrawing from this "life" may not be the right way, either.

This book has been out since 1995, how come so few people know about it, how come so few people are really waking up to the reality we are all living in right now.
Some say it's just a virtual reality anyway and that might well be true, but the pain and the suffering is very real.

Knowing all these things makes life decidedly harder, at least for me. Recently somebody started a thread asking people what their day's highlight was and I thought that was a nice idea and wondered if I could contribute with something nice. It turned out I hadn't had a single nice experience that day, at least that's what it felt like. Luckily I'm going on holiday soon, far away, so hopefullyI will come back with a more positive outlook.
But to those who have read the other two books, does she say anywhere how she managed to get through the whole ordeal and still managed to find happiness?
In case anybody would like to tell me happiness is a choice, I know it is, but reading something like that, it is extremely difficult to see the positive thing about it - with the exception that at least now I know about the programme.

[Foxie Loxie]

@Icare....can totally understand your reaction to having read this book! It's not a "happiness" thing to find out what has been going on for years in the upper echelons of our society. I do recall seeing a video recently, so it would be here on Avalon, where she doing a presentation with the man who helped her get out of the awful mind control. :facepalm:

I'm sure you could find it by going to Advanced Search.

[Icare]

Dear Foxie Loxie,
thank you for telling me about that. I did have a look and I did do a little more research on her. Then I came across the news that he passed on which means that now she will sadly have to face life alone, more or less.
I also wonder what happened to her daughter.

[waves]

......The problem is this leaves me with a completely different view of politics these days. What disturbed me the most, apart from the obvious, is that it seems that there basically isn't a single decent human being around in the upper political circles. Each and every single one of the American presidents during Cathy O'Brien's time as a slave seems to have been in on the whole thing.....

Sounds like it's one of your first really bitter redpills when your view of the world completely unravels and you realize you can never go back. I ask myself if I'd rather still be in a state of feeling some sort of respect for these people, and the answer is no.


Right now I have lost all interest in following politics - not that the main stream news would really tell us what is going on, anyway - but I also think that completely withdrawing from this "life" may not be the right way, either.

This book has been out since 1995, how come so few people know about it, how come so few people are really waking up to the reality we are all living in right now....

You could blame lack of interest, closedmindedness and busy lives and no time or even the constant presence of young distracted souls, but in modern society at least, I wonder how much is really mostly the clever mind control programming coming from all directions - school, books, media, food - from birth that keeps people in that resistant, sleepy state. It was already being used early this century to sell WW1 and only got more sophisticated as the banking cabals ate up all the media outlets and schools got dumbed down.


Some say it's just a virtual reality anyway and that might well be true, but the pain and the suffering is very real.....

Very well put. I find that exact observation the most perplexing foundational question in this human life.


Knowing all these things makes life decidedly harder, at least for me.....

Me too, and more mentally isolated in society, even with friends that I don't dare broach these subjects around.


In case anybody would like to tell me happiness is a choice, I know it is, but reading something like that, it is extremely difficult to see the positive thing about it - with the exception that at least now I know about the programm.

This may not sound like a good reason to be happy anyway, but it's also the truth. If you really look closely at worldwide human history you'll find that these horrible injustices have never been absent. Ever!! Relentless hatred, inhuman actions, incalculable suffering inflicted on innocent men, women, children and animals, the need to pursue dominance, tyrannical leaders abusing females, etc are always present. Are you helping anything at all by hating back or feeling sadness that it all exists and you can't do crap to fix it? No.

So what is this challenge for us that are not interested in leading lives of hatred? We are here too - lots of us too. I think the people living lives in any of those forms of hatred are making those choices out of delusion, and I'm thinking spending this lifetime trying to clean my soul of as many delusions as possible is a good objective. This can be done all day long in any pursuits or relationships and I hope this effort is a positive contribution to the virtual reality - a 'rendering' of the positive effort and outcomes into the realm of choices for all as Tom Campbell might characterize it.

You're definitely not alone with these same feelings and questions after swallowing those redpills. Thanks for your thought provoking post.

[Vernaianawa]

Felt not to read material when offered but did read bits here and there regarding material. Gee it is a toughy though, knowing some rabbit holes will be known, against do I really wish to know.

[Hervé]

An edited repost from (here) (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?p=652113#post652113) giving corroborative testimonies from various other angles and authors' experiences.

Take your pick:
Marie-Anne (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?57210-Illuminati-Whistleblower-found-on-FB&p=652075&viewfull=1#post652075)
Svali (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?43115-Interview-with-SVALI-Illuminati-Defector..--For-those-who-may-have-missed-it..)
Cathy O'Brien (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?100304-Cathy-O-Brien-The-Tranceformation-of-America#post1208709)
Brice Taylor (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?94865-Brice-Taylor-Thanks-For-The-Memories)
Sue Arrigo (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?27790-While-you-were-out---business-as-usual)
Duncan O'Finioan
Miranda Kelly
Carolyn Hamlett (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?27790-While-you-were-out---business-as-usual&p=990238&viewfull=1#post990238)
Annalie Cummings AKA "Artemesia Speaks"
... and you'll get a pretty consistent picture... and if still skeptical, why not pay a visit to the Horus-Ra thread (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?40941-Horus-Ra-as-the-Archontic-Alien-Parasite-A-follow-up-interview-with-Maarit) or read the "Greenbaum speech" (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?40941-Horus-Ra-as-the-Archontic-Alien-Parasite-A-follow-up-interview-with-Maarit&p=485533&viewfull=1#post485533)?

Then, there's also the work done by Fritz Springmeier (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?53739-Springmeier-s-Illuminati-Formula-The-Satanic-Mind-Control) and the late Ted Gunderson (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?93227-Ted-Gunderson).

PS: ... I forgot Arizona Wilder (http://whale.to/b/wilder.html) and Kay Griggs (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?57036-Who-Is-Kay-Griggs) .


Addenda:
From Trauma to Transformation : Kathy Collins' Story (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?84370-From-Trauma-to-Transformation-Kathy-Collins-Story)

Kathleen Sullivan: A Survivor's Story Of Mind Control (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?101769-Kathleen-Sullivan-A-Survivor-s-Story-Of-Mind-Control)

Privileged Dutchman about Child sacrifices, The Occult, Luciferianism etc. [Ronald Bernard, English Subtitles] (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?97291-Privileged-Dutchman-about-Child-sacrifices-The-Occult-Luciferianism-etc.-Ronald-Bernard-English-Subtitles)

[onawah]

ROSEANNE BARR WITH CATHY O’BRIEN
11/23/20
https://forbiddenknowledgetv.net/roseanne-barr-with-cathy-obrien/
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"Roseanne Barr is joined on her little podcast by MK Ultra whistleblower Cathy O’Brien, co-author of the classic book on covert mind control programs, ‘TRANCEformation of America’ to discuss the relentless psyops and mass mind control to which we’re all being subjected.

In 2018, Barr was a very public sacrificial lamb in a mass-psyop when her highly-rated sitcom was summarily canceled and she was fired by ABC TV, amid spurious accusations that she’d made a “racist tweet” about former Obama advisor, Valerie Jarrett.

While half-sedated on a sleeping pill, Barr had tweeted a joke that Jarrett looked like the Muslim Brotherhood had had a baby with ‘The Planet of the Apes’.

In my view, accusations of racism with regard to this tweet says more about the accusers. How is anyone who isn’t familiar with the fine details of Jarrett’s pedigree supposed to know that this woman is “Black”? For her part, Barr said she’d thought Jarrett was Jewish – like herself – and they actually do bear a slight resemblance to each other.

At the time, the Mueller Investigation was in full swing and the psychological operations against Trump and his supporters, then as now, were in full gear. I immediately knew she was fired because her sitcom – the most successful Prime Time Network TV show at that time – was actively supportive of Trump’s presidency. I was gratified when she stated as much publicly a few weeks later.

The CIA has its tentacles in Hollywood and I feel certain that they leaned on ABC to jettison their cash cow because Trump support is a major threat to the Globalist agenda.

TRANCEFORMATION OF AMERICA

Cathy’s 1995 book, ‘TRANCEformation of America’ was based on her testimony to the US Congressional Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence Oversight, as part of her attempt to rescue her daughter from a mental institution, where she had reason to believe the latter was also being programmed.

When this testimony was censored “for reasons of National Security”, her lawyer advised her to publish her account in the form of a book as a means of self-defense.

‘TRANCEformation of America’ was the most detailed revelation of Deep State plans for a New World Order, of unfathomable government corruption, information- and mind control and of government controlled human trafficking, which is now coming out into the open, in mass consciousness today.

Cathy’s harrowing journey began when her depraved father sold her into the CIA’s MK Ultra program at the age of 6, in Muskegon, Michigan. This was after he had been busted for producing child p*rnography “starring” Cathy. A deal was struck with the government to grant her father immunity because they knew she would be a perfect candidate for the MK Ultra program, because her young mind was already completely shattered.

Through trauma-based mind control programming, Cathy’s identity was systematically split off into separate “files” and she was forced to be a CIA drug mule, a secret courier to corrupt heads of state, like Manuel Noriega and to be a “Presidential Model” sex slave during the Reagan/Bush Administrations.

During this time, she interfaced with high-level political figures, including Hillary and Bill Clinton, George Bush Sr. and the extremely violent Dick Cheney, about whom she had some very choice words.

Rescued and deprogrammed over the course of a decade from her induced Dissociative Identity Disorder by intelligence insider, Mark Phillips, Cathy would expose the criminal world of covert, Black Budget operations within the Pentagon and intelligence agencies.

Cathy’s latest venture is not an inflammatory exposé but a workbook of great utility, ‘PTSD: Time to Heal’, which teaches military veteran victims of trauma and those of sexual abuse how to reclaim conscious control of their minds to their deepest memories.

Like Roseanne and many others, I consider Cathy to be a true heroine.

You can check out more from Cathy at trance-formation.com"

[onawah]

Cathy O'Brien & "A THOUSAND Pieces" Documentary
46,619 views•Dec 27, 2020
Laura Eisenhower
94.4K subscribers

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"𝗔𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗟𝗮𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗘𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿:
Laura Eisenhower is a Global Alchemist, Researcher and Medical and Intuitive Astrologist.. She is an internationally acclaimed speaker who has presented her work world wide. Laura is the great-granddaughter of President Dwight David Eisenhower and she reveals Exopolitical information about his administration, that has been largely held in secrecy. She is considered by many to be one of North Americas leading researchers on: Health, Exopolitics, Alchemy, Metaphysics, and Galactic History. Laura works to free us from the 3-D holographic time-loop, False Archonic systems and Military Industrial Complex and exposes hidden agendas so we can take our power back. Feeling a calling regarding her mission since she was a child, she has gained incredible insight through her wilderness adventures, psychic development and has been connecting major dots about how to guide us into higher Earth energies. She has a deep understanding of Gaia-Sophia and our Divine Blueprint and how they connect to the Venus transits, Earth grids, Global Alchemy, DNA & ET races. Her passion is to inspire unity consciousness and bring us back to the Zero point/Unified field, the totality of our divine powers."

[RunningDeer]

MK ULTRA SURVIVOR CATHY O'BRIEN ON GLOBAL MIND CONTROL & DEPROGRAMING
with MEL K and CHARLIE W

I’m only 20 minutes into this video. I’m interested in what Cathy O’Brien has to say, not Charlie Ward. Fortunately, so far Mel has been good about directing/redirecting her questions back to Kathy O’Brien. Cathy talks about how this last year of Covid control is similar in many respects with the MK Ultra program. It's been in the works and she has shared aspects of it this since 1995 in her book, "TRANCE Formation of America: True life story of a mind control slave (https://www.amazon.com/Trance-Formation-America-Cathy-OBrien/dp/0966016548/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&qid=1622662189&refinements=p_27%3ACathy+O%27Brien&s=books&sr=1-2&text=Cathy+O%27Brien)".




Must See Mel K, Charlie Ward and Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) / Mind Control (MK Ultra) Survivor Cathy O'Brien gather for an eye opening chat.

This is critical information to help humanity see the mind control programming that we are all being put through. Knowledge, Light and Love defeats this evil agenda. Learn from these brave warriors for humanity and retake your sovereignty. Love heals all #GodWins

Cathy's book "PTSD Time to Heal (https://www.amazon.com/PTSD-Time-Heal-Cathy-OBrien/dp/0692776419/ref=mp_s_a_1_3?dchild=1&qid=1622339734&refinements=p_27%3ACathy+O%27Brien&s=books&sr=1-3&text=Cathy+O%27Brien)". (See Table of Contents below.)


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http://paula.avalonlibrary.net/smilies/red-line.gif


Repost (https://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?100304-Cathy-O-Brien-The-Tranceformation-of-America&p=1134048&viewfull=1#post1134048):

http://paula.avalonlibrary.net/Recovered/writing_zpsd26h7e8a.GIF Cathy O’Brien’s latest book, “PTSD: Time to Heal,” arrived today. It’s only 92 pages and within those are places for notes. There’s no “Table of Contents”. (added below)

I read two chapters: ‘Triggers’ and ‘Deprogram the Program First’. I made myself put it down to thoroughly digest and process. If I get nothing else from this book, I’ve already received helpful memory connections and ah-has.

Table of Contents

Time to heal - 8
Writing Wrongs - 12
Safety First - 15
Triggers - 19
Food for Thought - 26
Deprogram the Program First - 33
Well Being and Being Well - 39
Coping Skills - 45
Break Routine - 51
Perceptions and Semantics - 57
Deep Listen - 63
Dust Pieces and Reflection - 68
Loving Support - 72
Brain Games - 76
Sexuality and Living Love True-to-Soul - 81
People Helping People - 85
PTSD: Time to Heal - quick review for writing out memory - 91

[mountain_jim]

update: this is a trailer, Livestream begins: Mar 29, 12:05 pm EDT

Conversation with Cathy O'Brien and TRANCE-Formation

MG Show Published March 28, 2022 249 Views

U.S. GOVERNMENT MIND CONTROL

On August 3rd, 1977 the 95th U.S. Congress opened hearings into the reported abuses concerning the CIA’s TOP SECRET mind control research program code named MK Ultra.

On February 8th, 1988 a MK Ultra Victim, Cathy O’Brien, was covertly rescued from her mind control enslavement by Intelligence insider Mark Phillips. Their seven-year pursuit of Justice was stopped FOR REASONS OF NATIONAL SECURITY.

TRANCE Formation of America exposes the truth behind this criminal abuse of the Unconstitutional 1947 National Security Act.
--
trance-formation.com

https://rumble.com/vyucu9-conversation-with-cathy-obrien-and-trance-formation.html

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[RunningDeer]

trance.movie (https://trance.movie)
trance-formation.com (https://trance-formation.com)



https://i.imgur.com/qeOzQuI.jpg




About Trance

Cathy O’Brien was sold into Project Monarch, one of the 149 known sub-projects of the CIA’S MK ULTRA Experiments that began in 1953. These secret programs were initiated by governing jurisdictions in an effort to understand and utilize mind control to further another agenda. Being a victim of the elite’s Monarch Program. as a slave Cathy was exposed to many world leaders at the national and international levels.

Through her rescue and healing process, she was able to reclaim the memories of what she witnessed while under mind control. Her story provides insight into how we’ve been controlled in the past, where we are going as a nation and how to reclaim personal and collective sovereignty. This is her story. This is our story.

Directed by: Adrienne Youngblood
Produced by: Adrienne Youngblood, Isabella Antinoro, Roger R. Richards
Starring: Cathy O'Brien
Categories: Documentary, Disclosure



Follow Us:


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[Bluegreen]

Warning: Graphic

Chapter 1

MY INTRODUCTION TO HUMANITY

By Cathy O'Brien

My pedophile father, Earl O’Brien, brags that he began substituting his penis for my mother’s nipple soon after I was born. My multigenerational incest-abused mother, Carol Tanis, did not protest his perverse actions due to (reportedly) having similar abuse as a child which caused her to acquire Multiple Personality Disorder. My earliest recovered memory was that I could not breathe with my father’s penis jammed into my little throat.


http://media.mlive.com/chronicle/news_impact/photo/11026569-large.jpg
The late Earl O'Brien - Photo: Michigan Sports Hall of Fame

Yet I could not discern his semen from my mother’s milk. I do not recall thinking, but I am aware through education that this early sexual abuse distorted my primitive concepts of feeding, breathing, sexuality, and parental perceptions. I recall as a toddler being unable to run (I could barely walk) to my mother for help as my instincts demanded.

Through my gulping sobs, my terror rose as I tried to clear my throat of my father’s semen and draw a breath of air. My mother finally arrived at my side. Rather than comfort me, she accused me of throwing a temper tantrum and "holding my breath". She responded only by throwing a glass of cold water in my face. I was shocked! As the water splashed my face, I knew she would not help and it was up to me to save myself.

I automatically Multiple Personality Disordered. I was, of course, too young to logically understand that what my father was doing to me was wrong. I accepted his strangling sexual abuse as a normal and natural part of my home life, and split off a personality to deal with the pain and suffocation to satisfy his perversions. Therefore as a child, I was dissociative of my father’s abuse. I was totally unable to recall his sexual abuse, even in his presence, until I saw and felt his penis.

By the time I joined the Brownies, my father’s sexual exploitation of me included prostitution to his friends, local mobsters and Masons, relatives, Satanists, strangers, and police officers. When I wasn’t being worked to physical exhaustion, filmed pornographically, prostituted, or engaged in incest abuse, I dissociated into books. I had learned to read at the young age of four due to my photographic memory which was a natural result of MPD/DID.

Government researchers involved in MK-Ultra Project Monarch knew about the photographic memory aspect of MPD/DID, of course, as well as other resultant "super human" characteristics. Visual acuity of an MPD/DID is 44 times greater than that of the average person. My developed unusually high pain threshold, plus compartmentalization of memory were "necessary" for military and covert operations applications.

Additionally, my sexuality was primitively twisted from infancy. This programming was appealing and useful to perverse politicians who believed they could hide their actions deep within my memory compartments, which clinicians refer to as personalities.


http://image.shutterstock.com/image-illustration/young-happy-boy-scout-girl-260nw-204174211.jpg http://www.wgnflag.com/xcart5/var/images/product/300.300/P/us50star-02.jpg


My Uncle Bob helped my father decorate my bedroom in red, white, and blue paneling and American flags. He provided assistance in scrambling my mind according to Project Monarch methodologies. Fairy tale themes were used to confuse fantasy with reality, particularly Disney stories and the Wizard of Oz, which provided the base for future programming.

I had personalities for pornography, a personality for bestiality, a personality for incest, a personality for withstanding the horrendous psychological abuse of my mother, a personality for prostitution, and the rest of "me" functioned somewhat "normally" at school. My "normal" personality provided a cover for the abuse I was enduring, but best of all it had hope- hope that there was somewhere in the world where people did not hurt each other. This same personality also attended Catechism, a weekly class at our Catholic church, St. Francis de Sales in Muskegon, Michigan.

I continued to maintain an illusion of normalcy for school, excelling in my studies due to my photographic memory and in spite of my chronic "day-dreaming". I had plenty of friends and played enthusiastically at recess, expending large amounts of energy in my subconscious effort to escape my own mind. And I lost myself in the books my father suggested I read: the Wizard Of Oz, Alice In Wonderland, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Disney Classics, and Cinderella—all of which were used in conditioning my mind for what soon would become mind-control programming.


http://longislandweekly.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/the-wizard-of-oz_09d7db-MovieStillsDB.jpg


My television viewing was restricted and monitored in keeping with my father’s gained knowledge. I was, however permitted to watch the "best" of movies: The Wizard Of Oz, Disney Classics, Alice In Wonderland, and Cinderella—over and over and over again.

When I was in second grade, my Brownie Troop marched in the Memorial Day Parade in which then Michigan State Senator VanderJagt also participated. At the end of the parade, he took me into a nearby motel and had me per-form oral sex on him before sending me back to where my Brownie Troop was waiting. My Brownie leader and peers thought it commendable that VanderJagt took me with him. They gathered around to hear all about it. I noticed a white splash of semen on my sash, and hurriedly explained that he had "taken me for a milkshake" as I wiped it away. Having to cover for his perversion to my Brownie Troop infringed on my school personality, and the "normal" remainder became even smaller.


http://static01.nyt.com/images/2007/06/23/us/23vanderjagt.190.jpg?quality=75&auto=webp&disable=upscale
The late Senator Guy VanderJagt

With the memory of this incident compartmentalized in my mind, I made no conscious association to VanderJagt when my third grade teacher announced that we were taking a field trip to the State Capital in Lansing, Michigan where he was in session. Once at the Capital, I was ushered away from my classmates and taken to an office where he was waiting with his friend and mentor (soon to be President) Gerald Ford.

VanderJagt lifted my skirt, pulled down my panties, and placed me on his desk for sex with him and Ford. Afterward they laughed as VanderJagt placed a small American flag in my rectum and instructed me to wave it. He then presented me with a Kennedy pen inscribed with the motto that would lead me for the rest of my mind-con-trolled existence, "Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country."

VanderJagt then escorted me back to the balcony of the Legislature where my classmates were gathered. He put his arm around me in front of all my classmates and presented me with the American flag he had just had me wave for him and Ford with my rectum. My school personality split off again, but I still maintained the hope that somewhere, someday, I would find a place where people didn’t ... what? I could not remember what I was seeking to escape.

Trance-Formation of America
https://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/transforusa/transformation.htm

[Bluegreen]

Each chapter is a major undertaking, and some chapters may not be transferable to this format. The idea of doing the whole book is intriguing but daunting, to say the least. We''ll see how this goes ...

***

THE RITE TO REMAIN SILENT

Chapter 2

When Pierre Trudeau was elected Prime Minister of Canada in 1968, I often heard it said, "Pierre Trudeau is one of Ours, you know." I first heard this phrase cryptically referring to Trudeau’s loyalty to the Vatican when Father Don was discussing him with my father one Sunday after mass. This fact circulated quickly among those I knew who were involved in the Catholic/Jesuit aspect of Project Monarch.


http://s3.amazonaws.com/zweb-s3.uploads/ez2/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/portrait-of-pierre-trudeau-at-canada-in-gettyimages-560x373.jpg
The late Pierre Trudeau


The summer after Trudeau was elected, my father took the family to Mackinac Island as usual. Climbing on a large statue on the grounds of the Governor’s Mansion, I could see across the field to the Grand Hotel. I noticed Canadian flags flying amongst the American flags that lined the front of the old hotel. As I slid down off the statue, Guy VanderJagt approached with a drink and a cigarette in his hand. Palling my hair into place he said,

"Straighten your shirt, I’ve got someone important for you to meet," "I knew someone important was here because of those flags," I said, tucking my shirt in my pink shorts.

"When I was at the Vatican," VanderJagt began, "I was told that Prime Minister Trudeau is a friend of the Pope. He thinks like one of us. A true Catholic. He likes Cathy-licks."


https://www.congress.gov/img/member/v000027_200.jpg VanderJadt


VanderJagt led me upstairs in the mansion, where Pierre Trudeau was lowering the window shades in a dimly lit bedroom crowded with antiques. VanderJagt closed the door behind me. Trudeau’s tuxedo coat was neatly draped over a chair, which left him in his formal pants, while shirt, and a bright red cummerbund which caught my eye. "I like your sash," I said. "Hasn’t anyone taught you Silence yet?"

His somber, gruff attitude was softened by his smooth, silky voice. Triggered into the part of me that endured the Rite to Remain Silent, I assumed Trudeau knew all about interdimensions according to my deliberately formed perceptions. I could not/did not understand that interdimensions actually equated to the inner-dimensions of my own compartmentalized mind. Likewise, I did not understand that "Keys to the Kingdom" referred to knowing the codes, keys, and triggers to my controlled mind. "Guy said you like Cathy-licks," I said, repeating what VanderJagt had told me. "Are you the Keeper of the Keys?"

Trudeau seemingly bore his cold, dark eyes right through me. "You can learn more from the school of thought than you can by asking precocious questions. Haven’t you learned that children are to be seen and not heard?"

"Is that a precocious question?" I asked. "What is a precocious question?"

Trudeau sighed with impatience. "That is irrelevant. What matters is that you shut your mouth, still your mind, and enter the school of thought. Silence is a virtue. Listen to the silence in the stillness of your mind. Go deep inside your mind," he slowly led. "Deeper and deeper where it’s quiet and still..."

Trudeau expertly manipulated my mind with sophisticated hypnotic language. Not only did he enlist my Silence for the pedophile perversions he indulged in, but he instructed my "school of thought" in a manner that equated to programming. He laid a foundation for Air-Water programs that is a mirror- dimensional theme often used by NASA and others involved in Project Monarch. Playing off his own name "Pee-Air," he added a perverse twist to the theme that he accessed each time I was prostituted to him.

Had I been capable of fear, I would have been afraid of Pierre Trudeau. Trudeau’s slow, deliberate movements masked the brutal power of his body much the way his smooth, soft voice pierced my mind and intruded on my thoughts. The icy cold touch of his effeminate, manicured long fingers contrasted with the heat of his perversion ... a perversion for which he blamed me and my "temptuous, contemptuous ways".

I was slow to grow into adolescence. By the time I was thirteen years old, my breasts were tender and beginning to swell, which made me "too old" for VanderJagt’s pedophile perversions. When my father brought me to Mackinac Island for routine prostitution at the Political Retreat, VanderJagt introduced me to a new friend he had made now that he was in Washington, D.C. as a U.S. Congressman-U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd, Democrat from West Virginia.


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Byrd had been a U.S. Senator as long as I had been alive, serving as Senate Whip and later as President Pro Tempore of the Senate and as the all powerful Senate Appropriations leader. Byrd commanded attention and respect from all who came in contact with him, particularly from my father.

When we were left alone in his room, he loomed over me in a threatening stance. His cold, blue slitty eyes locked onto mine. I undressed and climbed into his bed as ordered. I was momentarily relieved to find that his penis was abnormally tiny—so small it didn’t even hurt! And I could breathe with it in my mouth! Then he began to indulge himself in his brutal perversions, talking on and on about how I was "made just for him" due to the vast amounts of pain I could withstand.

The spankings and police handcuffs I had previously endured were child’s play compared to Senator Byrd’s near death tortures. The hundreds of scars on my body still show today. With VanderJagt, sex was a matter of "how much I could give," whereas with Byrd it was "how much I could take". And I was forced to take mote pain than any human could logically withstand. I was dedicated to Byrd at age thirteen which meant he would be directing my future in Project Monarch, and my father would raise me according to his specifications.

My MPD/DID existence became more regimented from that point on. I was kept physically worn down to the point of exhaustion in order that I be sufficiently receptive to my father’s limited hypnotic programming capabilities to condition my mind for mind control. The pornography I was forced to anticipate in became much more violent immediately after Byrd, switching me from predominantly pedophile and bestiality themes to torturous versions of sadomasochism (S&M).

My father and mother worked in tandem daily to "break my spirit," destroying any remnants left of my self-confidence, tearing down my self-esteem, and thus annihilating my free will urges. They conditioned/taught me my dreams were reality and my reality were dreams, that black is white and up is down. "Good night, sleep tight, dream about your mommy and daddy" is what I heard every night. This was intended to confuse my mind to believe incest in the middle of the night was "just a bad dream".

My father also instructed me to watch Alfred Hitchcock’s horrifying movie The Birds with him. This reinforced in my mind the movie’s theme that there is "no place to hide from the birds/Byrd".

I was quickly beginning to lose all ability to question anything but my own judgment. It was easy to believe that there was indeed "no place to run, no place to hide," which is a necessary and primary psychological basis for government/military mind control. In later years, "who ya’ gonna call?" and Ronald Reagan’s quip "you can run, but you can’t hide" echoed deep within my mind. After all, even if I could think to seek help, who would help me? The police? The church? My parents? Relative? Politicians? School? There was no one left that would help me, I sensed.


http://betterthanlifesite.files.wordpress.com/2015/12/clay-gumby-twisted.jpg http://www.worldtvpc.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Samantha-or-Jeannie.jpghttp://www.zerotoys.com/v/vspfiles/photos/Gumby-4.jpg?v-cache=1605170279


My television programming was then expanded to include the shows that every Project Monarch Mind-Control slave I knew had to watch: I Dream Of Jeannie, The Brady Bunch, Gumby And Pokey, and Bewitched. I could relate to the Genie pleasing her master, who was a Major for the Air Force in I Dream Of Jeannie.

This served to confuse the reality of my own experiences with the fantasy of television production. I told all outsiders that my family was "just like the Bradys". Through Gumby And Pokey I was led to believe that I was as flexible as these animated clay performers. Therefore, I was capable of being physically maneuvered into any sexual position.

Meanwhile, my father took us all to church every Sunday, and my mother stayed busy having babies to raise in the Project. In true pedophile fashion, he surrounded himself with children by coaching little league sports, chaperoning school and Catechism activities, and becoming involved with the Boy Scouts. All of this made him appear to be a model citizen and "pillar of the community". The illusion was fanned. The parts of me that knew otherwise had no choice but to remain silent.

[Bluegreen]

My First President

Chapter 3

http://inspirehealthpodcast.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Cathy-OBrien-SQ.jpg

By Cathy O'Brien

In addition to routine trips to Mackinac Island and Niagara Falls, my family often took camping trips to "get away from it all". In reality, I was taken to key places for ritual abuse, prostitution, and pornography. In the fall of 1974, my father announced we were going to go camping "back in time" to an old-fashioned festival in the small remote town of Cedar Springs, Michigan for their annual Red Flannel Days celebration. My mother told me to pack my jeans and sweaters and my Catholic school uniform which she had washed and pressed for the occasion.

Cedar Springs was quiet, with the festival events including dilapidated amusement rides set up in a small parking lot, and contests where local farmers pitted their mules and horses against each other to see whose could pull the most weight. The main (and only) street of town was lined with the few local businesses, including the town’s red flannel underwear "long Johns" factory. In the center of town, a mock, single, jail cell had been erected to hold any and all parade participants who failed to wear the required red flannel underwear.


http://www.raisingjane.org/journal/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/geography-red-flannel-factory1.jpg http://cedarspringspost.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/RED-Prince-and-Princess2-2020-copy-244x300.jpg

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The jail was guarded by quasi Keystone Cops. I was amused when the townsfolk began lining up to march in the parade, with very few remaining to watch it. A mentally retarded man carried the baton to lead the parade, followed by kids on bicycles, hay-wagons of old folks, a grade school band and people walking-all in their red flannel underwear. The grand finale’ of the parade, the town fire truck, was approaching, surrounded by numerous motorcycle police.

I heard folks whispering "the President is coming". I assumed they meant the President of the underwear factory. I was wrong. I watched in horror as the fire truck rolled to a stop, and Secret Service helped then President Gerald Ford as he stepped down to the pavement.

My father was excitedly tugging on my arm, half dragging me through the wall of Secret Service agents, to talk with President Ford. I looked around nervously as my father made the necessary arrangements with Ford to prostitute me to him later that evening. VanderJagt, who never missed a parade it seemed, was signing autographs. As he smiled at me, someone roughly grabbed my arm. Nervous and startled, I screamed.


https://www.fordlibrarymuseum.gov/avproj/hseries/h42-4b.gif
Susan Ford and her father, Gerald

The crowd laughed as a Keystone Cop threw me in the jail, scolding me for not wearing my red flannel underwear when I was talking to the President. I was trying to be inconspicuous in hopes no one would see me with the likes of Ford, but then, they did not know him as I did. The Keystone Cop rattled on and on about "how lucky" I was until my father paid my bail and I was released from the cell.

That night, I wore my Catholic uniform as instructed and went into a dissociative trance as my father drove me to the local National Guard Armory where I was prostituted to Ford. Ford took me into an empty room, pushed me down on the wooden floor as he unzipped his pants and said, "Pray on this". Then he brutally, sexually assaulted me. Afterward, my memory was compartmentalized through use of high voltage. I was then carried out to the car where I lay in the back seat, muscles contracted, stunned, in pain, and unable to move.

When we got back to Muskegon, my father sent me to the beach as always, to let the repetition of crashing waves against the beach "wash my mind free of memory" while I watched the sun set. I was totally locked into the belief that truly there was "no place to run," not even to the President of the United States.

[Bluegreen]

The Most Dangerous Game

Chapter 4

When I learned of a pending rendezvous with Senator Byrd in Traverse City, Michigan (VanderJagt’s headquarters), I stole some candy at a local convenience market hoping to go to jail and escape my encounter with Byrd. I was caught, and the police were even called. But, of course, my poetically powerful abusers would not allow for me to have a police record. The entire matter was not-so-mysteriously and suddenly dropped. My only "punishment" was to have a conference with the school principal, Father Vesbit.

Father Vesbit knew I was part of Project Monarch, and handled the matter accordingly. He raped me in the school’s private chapel after school while holding a Satanic ritual involving several of my project friends. Kids often attached nicknames to their teachers, and there were only a few of us who knew the reason why Father Vesbit was called Father "Fuzzbutt". His backside was covered with thick black hair. He "counseled" me on several occasions, once remarking, "I thought kids in your situation were all part of the Exchange Student program."

My Uncle Bob Tanis was visiting our house soon after that. He had flown in from what he claimed was a "black ops" Air Force Intelligence operation. I know now that in typical CIA mode of operations, he was relating a story of lies salted with some truth. His point was to inform me that the Catholic Church is "justified" in its involvement with our government due to the Priests’ "hearing confessions from mobsters and spies".


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33rd Degree Mason Uncle Bob Tanis
https://www.mkdfuneralhome.com/obituaries/robert-tanis


He also explained that Exchange Students were "spies in the making" that Priests found, through Confession, were problems. Thus they were considered expendable and transferred out of the country. He then suggested to my father that I see the school guidance counselor, CIA Operative Dennis DeLaney, immediately. My father enthusiastically told me that DeLaney was a long time friend of his from St. Francis who "knew how to handle kids like me". Arrangements were made for me to see him after school.

DeLaney began by informing me that he was "aware of everything" and that he knew just what I needed "to put me back on track". He said that my family needed to lake a trip to the Teton Mountains of Wyoming. He even provided maps and information in an envelope for my father. He turned off the lights in his office, and turned on a slide projector. He showed me scenes of the numerous waterfalls of the Tetons, all of which were to "wash my brain" of the reality that I was performing oral sex on him as ordered while the slides ran. Then he scheduled a follow up appointment for further "counseling".

This trip to the Tetons would provide a change of scenery tram the usual Mackinac/Niagara Falls trip, but I could no longer hope for a change in the direction life was leading me. I was told my life was "predestined," and all I had to do was follow the road stretched out before me, i.e., the "Yellow Brick Road". I was destined for Wyoming, but would not know why until I arrived.

I confirmed the family trip to the Tetons when I saw DeLaney for my follow-up "counseling". He informed me that he had already talked to my father about the trip, as well as our upcoming trip to Disney World in Florida. I was not surprised to learn of an additional trip. Nor did I have the capacity to become excited, suspicious, or apprehensive. I was aware that DeLaney was heavily involved in Project Monarch, not only because he was accessing my sexual personalities again, but because he was helping to pave the way toward my destiny of total mind control.

During Christmas vacation of 1974, my father flew us all to Disney World by route of Tampa, Florida. Ignorant of geography, it did not occur to me that Tampa was out of the way to Disney World until my father drove the rented van to the gates of MacDill Air Force Base. Military personnel met me there and escorted me into the base TOP SECRET high tech mind-control conditioning facility for "behavioral modification" programming. This was the first in what became a routine series of mind-control testing and/or programming sessions on government installations that I would endure throughout my Project Monarch victimization.


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MacDill AFB – Tampa, Florida

Whether I was in a military, NASA, or government building, the procedure for maintaining me under total mind control remained consistent with Project Monarch requirements. This included prior physical and/or psychological trauma; sleep, food, and water deprivation; high voltage electric shock; and hypnotic and/or harmonic programming of specific memory compartments/personalities.

The high tech equipment and methodisms I endured from that time on gave the U.S. government absolute control of my mind and life. I had been literally driven out of my conscious mind and existed only through my programmed subconscious. I lost my free will, ability to reason, and could not think to question anything that was happening to me. I could only do as I was told.

After the MacDill Air Force Base experience, my home life worsened. The controls and conditioning that my father and mother executed on me tightened even more. I was no longer permitted to have any contact with my own brothers and sister (I only had one younger sister at that time). This stopped me in my subconscious efforts to protect them from my father’s abuse, and left me with a desperate, empty aching for the loving relationships I previously shared with them.
 
Of course, I never was able to protect them any more than I could defend myself or later protect my own daughter. However, until government programming began, I had routinely "baby sat" them every evening and took them for long walks that lasted for hours in my feeble attempt to keep them out of my parents’ range. Subconsciously I believed I was making a difference. The day my youngest brother told my mother he much preferred my company over hers was the day I could no longer be near him or my other brothers and sister.
 
Apparently I was making enough of a difference that my parents were compelled to separate me from them. I was ordered to my closet-sized bedroom in the garage as soon as I got home from school or work. I could not speak to, look at, or hug my brothers and sister. I was not permitted to eat dinner with my family, although they let me out of my room to set the table, wash dishes, and do other chores. If I ventured from my bedroom to use the bathroom and was caught by my mother, she said, "nobody rattled your cage" and ordered me back to my room in the garage.

In the summer of 1975, my family drove all the way from Michigan to the Teton Mountains of Wyoming. I was ordered to ride in the back storage area of the family Chevy Suburban since 1 was forbidden to associate or communicate with my brothers and sister. So I dissociated into books, or into the metaphorical, hypnotic suggestions from my father and tranced deeper as I watched the prairies seemingly endless sea of "amber waves of grain" streak past my window.
 
Once when we stopped at a gas station, my father took me inside to show me a stuffed "jackalope" mounted on the wall. Due to my tranced, dissociative state and high suggestibility level, I believed it was indeed a cross between a jack rabbit and antelope. It was 100+ degrees in the Badlands when it cooled down at night. The intense heat of the day accentuated my ever increasing thirst. My father was physically preparing me though water deprivation for the intense tortures and programming I would endure in Wyoming.


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Dick Cheney, then White House Chief of Staff to president Ford, later Secretary of Defense to President George Bush and Vice President to George Bush Jr, documented member of the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR), was originally Wyoming’s only Congressman. Dick Cheney was the reason my family had traveled to Wyoming where I endured yet another form of brutality— his version of "A Most Dangerous Game", or human hunting.

[Bluegreen]

It is my understanding now that "A Most Dangerous Game" was devised to condition military personnel in survival and combat maneuvers. Yet it was used on me and other slaves known to me as a means of further conditioning the mind to the realization there was "no place to hide," as well as traumatize the victim for ensuing programming. It was my experience over the years that A Most Dangerous Game had numerous variations on the primary theme of being stripped naked and turned loose in the wilderness while being hunted by men and dogs. In reality, all "wilderness" areas were enclosed in secure military fencing whereby it was only a matter of time until I was caught, repeatedly raped, and tortured.

Dick Cheney had an apparent addiction to the "thrill of the sport". He appeared obsessed with playing A Most Dangerous Game as a means of traumatizing mind-control victims, as well as to satisfy his own perverse sexual kinks. My introduction to the game occurred upon arrival at the hunting lodge near Greybull, Wyoming, and it physically and psychologically devastated me.


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Dick Cheney – Always pissed off


I was sufficiently traumatized for Cheney’s programming as I stood naked in his hunting lodge office after being hunted down and caught. Cheney was talking as he paced around me, "I could stuff you and mount you like a jack lope and call you a two legged dear. Or I could stuff you with this (he unzipped his pants to reveal his oversized penis) right down your throat, and then mount you. Which do you prefer?"

Blood and sweat became mixed with the dirt on my body and slid like mud down my legs and shoulder. I throbbed with exhaustion and pain as I stood unable to think to answer such a question. "Make up your mind," Cheney coaxed. Unable to speak, I remained silent.

"You don’t get a choice, anyway, I make up your mind for you. That’s why you’re here. For me to make you a’ mind, and make you mine/mind. You lost your mind a long time ago. Now I’m going to give you one. Just like the Wizard (of Oz) gave Scarecrow a brain, the Yellow Brick Road led you here to me. You’ve ’come such a long, long way’ for your brain, and I will give you one."

The blood reached my shoes and caught my attention. Had I been further along in my programming, I perhaps would never have noticed such a thing or had the capability to think to wipe it away. But so far, I had only been to MacDill and Disney World for government/military programming. At last, when I could speak, I begged, "If you don’t mind, can I please use your bathroom?"

Cheney’s face turned red with rage. He was on me in an instant, slamming my back into the wall with one arm across my chest and his hand on my throat, choking me while applying pressure to the carotid artery in my neck with his thumb. His eyes bulged and he spit as he growled, "If you don’t mind me, I will kill you. I could kill you—Kill you—with my bare hands. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. I’ll kill you any time I goddamn well please." He flung me on the cot-type bed that was behind me. There he finished taking his rage out on me sexually.

On the Long trip back to Michigan, I lay in a heap behind the scats of the Suburban, nauseated and hurting from Cheney’s brutality and high voltage tortures, plus the whole Wyoming experience. My father stopped by the waterfalls flowing through the Tetons to "wash my brain" of the memory of Cheney, I could barely walk through the woods to the falls for the process as instructed, despite having learned my lessons well from Cheney on following orders.

The next year when our "annual" trip to Disney World rolled around, my father drove, pulling his new Holiday Rambler Royale International trailer. (I slept outside in a tent because I was not permitted inside it since "I wasn’t family".) My father dropped me off en route at the Kennedy Space Center in Titusville, Florida where I was subjected to my first NASA programming. From then on, I was "obsessed" with following the "Yellow Brick Road" to Nashville, Tennessee. Moving to Nashville was all I could talk about. If anyone asked me the question I could not think to ask myself "Why?", I would respond by reiterating it was something "I had to do".

I had gone through the motions of my senior year in a dissociative trance. I became further distanced from religious values by my religion class teacher. Brother Emmett. This was due to his promotion of cannibalism via Pier Paul Reed’s book Alive, and by his teachings at a religious ’corseal’ retreat I attended that included occult ritual at ST. Francis Church. I graduated from Muskegon Catholic Central High School in our bicentennial year of 1976.

I was led by Senator Byrd to revise my plan to attend Hope College like I had promised VanderJagt as a child. This new plan was for me to temporarily attend Muskegon Community College, because my "real education" was to come through mind-control programming-not school. In order to be exhausted, as was necessary for my "real education," I worked three menial jobs in addition to attending college.

During my first semester of college in 1976, I made plans to take a trip to Nashville with my Project Monarch friend from Catholic Central. (She remains an expendable victim to date, and therefore her identity must be protected from public release for her safety.) My father explained that I was to stay at the Fiddler’s Inn in Nashville, see the World Famous Printer’s Alley row of sleazy country music nightclubs, and attend the Grand Ole Opry on Friday night, as ticket arrangements had been made through a "friend," in spite of their scarcity during the Thanksgiving holiday.


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I never thought to associate Fiddler’s Inn with Senator Byrd’s fiddle playing when my friend and I arrived in Music City, U.S.A. Nor did 1 find it odd when a country music "star" entertaining at the Black Poodle nightclub in Printer’s Alley began directing my activities. My friend and I were provided with free passes to the Black Poodle to encourage us to return each night where entertainer and CIA operative Jack Greene and his Desperado band were playing.

During breaks between sets, Greene and his band would sit with my friend and me to manipulate our suggestible minds. I was told it was "my destiny" to have met band member, Wayne Cox, who had been trained for paramilitary mercenary operations under Louisiana’s U.S. Senator J, Bennett Johnston, I soon learned that everyone associated with Greene was involved in his CIA "Freedom Train" operations.

When I told Greene that my friend and I would not be returning on Friday night due to attending the Grand Ole Opry, he told us that he would be working the Opry that night. He made arrangements for us to come back stage and see him immediately following his segment. He explained that the "security" guard at the Opry, Nashville Metro Police Lt. Bob Ezell, was a good friend of his and would let us in.

At the Opry, my friend and I sat in the audience watching as Jack Greene introduced his "special guest," U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd. At the sight of Byrd, I went into a pre-conditioned deep trance and robotically went through the motions of following Greene’s instructions. Once backstage, Greene pointed out his dressing room, which he was sharing with Senator Byrd, and ordered me in. The personality that had been sitting in the audience had perceived Byrd as an entertainer and could not, or would not, think further.

But as I walked into the dressing room and saw Byrd perched on the edge of the mirrored vanity in his boxer shorts, I switched into the child personality that had known him as a U.S. Senator on Mackinac Island since age 13, and responded sexually. Afterward, Byrd was claiming me as "his," excitedly telling me that he had "always wanted his own little witch". I soon learned the enormity of this statement.

Jack Greene’s band member, Wayne Cox, later told me that playing music behind Senator Byrd at the Opry was not the only way he "backed him". He also backed him politically and in Freedom Train operations. Cox then made arrangements for my friend and me to stay the remainder of our trip at his trailer in Hendersonville, Tennessee. There was no choice but to comply.


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O'Brien's future husband, Wayne Cox


The following night, after Jack Greene completed his show at the Black Poodle, he drove my friend and me to a nearby participating after-hours club, the Demon’s Den. There, Cox was to pick us up and take us to Hendersonville. Instead, we were slipped a drug and taken "on a tour" of Union Station, Nashville’s then abandoned train station, where supposedly the only train still running through there was the Freedom Train.

Senator Byrd’s attempted cultivation of superstition through my Catholic schooling should have maximized the impact of the occult ritual I was subjected to in the tower of the old stone and slate turn-of-the-century train depot. But the pain and horror was sufficiently effective in itself—even without my adhering to superstition-to produce the intended mind shattering results. Cox took my friend and me on a "flashlight tour" through the rubble of Union Station, until we came to a homeless man sleeping on the ground.


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Nashville's (then) abandoned train station


Cox ordered me to "kiss the railroad bum good-bye," then shot him between the eyes while I was still only inches away. He then used a machete to chop off the man’s hands, which he put in a zip-lock bag. He then led us up the rickety stairs into the lower of the old depot. There Jack Greene, his band members, and others dressed in black robes were gathered around a black leather alter in a room lit by candles and draped in red velvet. In total shock, I was laid on the alter and subjected to rape and torture while the participants indulged in sex, blood, and cannibalism ritual.

The next day I woke up on Cox’s couch, vaguely aware that I had suffered a "bad nightmare". When I stood up, I passed out from blood loss. I was bleeding profusely from the vagina. It was all I could do to prepare to drive back to Michigan, and my friend was certainly not in a stable frame of mind to help. I did not know what happened to me, nor was I able to question it. I had a new "obsession" on my mind. I had been programmed at the ritual to move to Nashville and marry Cox, as ordered by Senator Byrd.

Back in Michigan, I made the announcement to my parents that I was moving to Nashville to marry Cox, as it was "predestination". What they would not tell me was that my father had just literally SOLD me to Senator Byrd in exchange for lucrative military contracts that made him a millionaire overnight—a millionaire on a sixth grade education—a perverse, child exploiting criminal, immune from prosecution, working as a CIA operative for the U.S. government!

That mind shattering occult ritual I endured in Nashville marked a new life of wealth and prestige for my father while thrusting me into a new phase of my torturous existence-and I had no choice in any of it.

[Bluegreen]

TINKERING WITH THE MIND

Chapter 5

It was 1977. I was a 19-year-old mind-controlled programmed slave in the CIA/DIA Project Monarch Freedom Train operation, literally owned by U.S. Senate Majority Leader Robert C. Byrd, who was then a 20-year incumbent and on the Senate Appropriations Committee, As Byrd’s "own little witch" (sex slave), I would also become involved in covert government operations. I now understand that this required more memory compartments/personalities than I had developed.

Hence one more reason for the mind shattering occult ritual, and my "predestined" marriage to Cox. In typical Project Monarch structure, Byrd was my "owner" and in control of my life, while Cox became my primary "handler" and followed Byrd’s orders to ensure that I was at key locations and events at appointed times and to maintain me under mind control.

Cox reportedly was not paid cash for his role like my father was. Instead, he either followed orders or would be prosecuted for distributing drugs and being the occult serial killer that he was and is to date. Cox’s primary role was to shatter my mind further through repealed occult trauma as well as father my daughter, Kelly, to be raised in the genetic mind-control studies of Project Monarch.

I moved to Nashville, as ordered, to marry Cox, who took me to the backwoods of his hometown swamp in Chatham, Louisiana for months at a time for occult traumatization. Cox had been brought up in witchcraft by his mother, and admittedly longed for her sexually and ritually. Together they subjected me to their beliefs, which included what equates to a weakened version of mind control used by witches for centuries, anchored in superstition rather than scientific fact.


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These superstitious beliefs seemingly conflicted with Cox’s mercenary training to the point that his killing raged out of control. For example, Cox would murder a human through repeated stabbing with a knife, believing that the "departing spirit" and splattered blood gave him power to control my mind. In truth, it was my aversion and subsequent traumatization by the event that caused me to dissociate and trance, leaving my subconscious open to his suggestions and those of others.

During the three years I was with Cox, he ritually impregnated and aborted me six times, consuming several of his own offspring and preserving the others shaped in ceramic for sale in his interstate occult body parts business. Cox’s M.O. for murdering always included removing the hands with a machete, as the "Hands of Glory" he kiln-dried in the ceramic shop of his and his mother’s house were in demand and thus distributed throughout the occult underground supply network. Cox’s protected cocaine and body parts distribution routes included Texas, Arkansas, Mississippi, Tennessee, and Florida.

Cox and I traveled to Florida on several occasions as his mother’s parents lived in Mims, which is only minutes away from the NASA Kennedy Space Center in Titusville. Cox, like my father, made sure I was there for mind-control testing and programming as ordered. Cox perceived me as a "Chosen One," and often used this CIA Project Monarch term when referring to me and for proudly "justifying" his leaving me at the NASA installation.

Cox had a variety of belief systems that he applied to various situations, all of which were superstition based. He believed in spirit communication or "divine guidance" through nature spirits and demons, that Satan must be appeased, that Jesus is an alien, that the Bermuda Triangle is a door to another dimension, and that the end of the world is near. He ’religiously’ carried a Bible with him everywhere-including to occult rituals-quoting scripture like a theologian.

He justified "eating the body and drinking the blood," "being washed in the blood," and even "murdering children" according to the story of God testing Abraham by ordering him to murder his son, Isaac, by knife on an alter. Jim Jones was one of Cox’s idols, as was Charlie Manson, and he touted the Jonestown massacre as a prime example of the "power of (CIA) mind control".

Cox demanded I become a Mormon in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This was to "prove" that Satan was everywhere-particularly in the Monroe, Louisiana Mormon church where he led occult ritual, and in the Hendersonville, Tennessee church that the so-called Freedom Train rolled through.

Cox’s determination to instill his religious superstitious beliefs in me was side-tracked by Senator J. Bennett Johnston in his Shreveport, Louisiana office early in the summer of 1978.

Cox’s mother, Mary, had driven us to Johnston’s office near Barksdale Air Force Base as ordered. As she knocked boldly on the obscure metal door, I read the attached metal sign: "General Dynamics Research and Development". A smaller sign near the doorknob read; "Unlawful to enter premises without prior authorization. All violators will be prosecuted under penalty of federal law."

Johnston, wearing a light blue, leisure suit and smelling strongly of body odor, opened the door. "Well, hey Senator," Mary drawled in her backwoods Louisiana dialect, "I brought the children to see you like you said."

Johnston looked at her with annoyed disgust. "I see that," he said matter-of-factly. He then proceeded to instruct Mary to wait outside a moment while he talked with Cox, then to take him on to her home in Monroe where I could be picked up at the Airport a few days later.


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Cox and I were ushered into Johnston’s barren military-style furnished office. Several Presidential and military photographs hung on the wall and served as the only decor. Johnston sat on the front of his military issue desk and talked to Cox’s subconscious mind using cryptic, hypnotic Disney Peter Pan theme language, as he apparently had done in the past when Cox had a mind left to control.

"As long as your ticker’s running, chat crock-a-dial you’ve been feeding over the years will be running right behind you. (Peter) Pan knew how to stay a step ahead of the game and stop the inevitable process of becoming gator bait himself by offering to give him a hand now and then."

Cox dismembered his murdered victims and distributed the "Hands of Glory" to fellow Satanists and occult traumatized/ Peter Pan theme programmed mercenaries, while feeding "left over" body parts to an alligator that lived in the Swamp behind his house. This was indicative of Cox’s twisted, murderous response to Johnston’s traumatic Peter Pan theme programming... a programming that I was about to experience "first hand".

Cryptically instructing Cox on Senator Byrd’s orders, Johnston continued, "I’ve got to hand it to that Pan. His livelihood of creating hookers for the Captain (Hook) was indeed lucrative. And speaking of creating hookers, a little Byrd told me that a shift from routine hand-ling to a theme that is alien could prove lucrative to you."

Revealing his intent to ensure my military mind control programming, Johnston told him, "I’ll lay a little groundwork and set the pattern for countdown. Then I’ll send her out to launch for you, and it’s your job to man the craft from there..."

Cox was ordered out of Johnston’s office, and he turned his full attention to me. When alone with the Senator, Johnston manipulated my mind, and ultimately my beliefs and perceptions, for future programming. He referred to a picture of himself shaking hands with unknown Navy brass as he dramatically told me,
"I was there that fateful day in 1943 when a hole was ripped in the fabric of time through what later became known as the Philadelphia Experiment. All those fine boys vanished along with their ship in a bizarre twist of events that parallels the Atlantis disappearances. A vortex was created in an effort to slip dimensions and become invisible to the enemy. It was a success beyond the highest expectations and launched us all into universal travel. It is no wonder at all that we have had a
man on the moon.

Traveling to distant planets and galaxies is Mickey Mouse stuff in comparison to the high-tech wizardry of trans-dimensional travel. Trans-dimensional travel circumvents all measures of time, including distance and speed. When the fabric of time was torn, we opened ourselves up to intergalactic travel—both in and out of this dimension - and in and out of the future, as well as the past.

We can alter the course of history by traveling back in time to alter events, or we can blast off into the future and gain wisdom and knowledge of events yet to come. We can control the future by controlling the past. At present, this is a relatively easy task according to the theory of relativity and abilities gained through the Philadelphia Experiment. I came back an ET (extraterrestrial) myself. And our ship returned to this Earth as a spaceship.

I gained the keys to the universe on that fateful day, and I carry them with me now, sharing only a Key or two at a time with those who are Chosen. You are a Chosen One (Johnston was deliberately interfacing with Rite to Remain Silent conditioning), and therefore must learn the ins and outs of interplanetary travel. Your mission is trans-dimensional. You can span infinite dimensions by learning from me. Take it from me, you’re going places, kid.

And I’ll teach you to get there by riding the light. I’ll teach you the groundwork, and you do the light work. The key to the universe lies in the speed of light. The only way to travel is by beam of light. You will learn to go to the light... Your mission is to learn how to Tinker with time. I’m going to take you on that journey myself. Come with me now. It’s time we were leaving this plane and boarding another."

[Bluegreen]

Johnston took me the short distance from his General Dynamics Corporation provided office to the Barksdale Air Force Base airfield. He was apparently well known at Barksdale, and a small cargo plane was ready to lake us to our destination-Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma.


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Once we were airborne, Johnston accessed my sex programmed personalities for his own aggressive perversion. His use of cocaine further accentuated his hyperactive demeanor as he brutally slung me around the back of the small plane while he had sex with me. At one point the pilot hollered from the cockpit "Hey, you’re creating turbulence. Knock it off, will you."

Johnston laughed and responded, "What the **** do you think I’m doing?" By the time we arrived at Tinker A.F.B., my arm was beginning to show a dark bruise that extended from my shoulder to my elbow. A uniformed man greeted us as we walked across the airfield. Johnston apparently knew him quite well, and referred to him as "Cap’n" (which tied in with the Peter Pan theme programming I was about to endure).

When he noticed my arm, Cap’n reminded him, "Hey, that’s not necessary, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Take care of it for me. Here..." Johnston took the straps of my tank top and pulled them down around my forearms (which still could not cover the bruise.)

"There, that just about covers it." He smiled and continued, "You look like a Southern belle that way rather than a damned ol’ Yankee anyway," Cap’n said, "She’ll be a Tinker-belle by the time we’re through here today."

Then, referring to Johnston’s primary purpose in actually escorting me to Tinker he asked, "How are your South American operations progressing?"

"I’ve got to talk to you about that," Johnston answered. The two talked as though they had worked in tandem on given mercenary operations/assignments in the past. "I may need a few of your boys to back me on something."

"Back you, or cover you?" the Cap’n retorted.

Johnston laughed, "Both if you’ll front the operation."

Johnston had previously "justified" his use of Tinker (Peter Pan theme) programmed mind-controlled mercenaries to me by saying, "Mercenaries are missionaries who follow their inner guidance system rather than their old Uncle Sam. Politics hinder the route to freedom, and these boys slip under international laws, undetected, to carry out the work the military boys only dream of doing.."

I was escorted away from the two by a nurse, who purported to be tending to my injured arm. In fact, she was preparing me for the "Tinker-belle cage" — an electrified metal cage with an electrified grid bottom. Locked inside, I was subjected to high, direct current voltage to compartmentalize the Peter Pan theme mind-control programming that I endured. Like Peter Pan’s Tinkerbelle, I learned to "ride the light" as a means of travel.

Additionally, my instilled Tinker-belle theme mind manipulation included a sense of Never-Never-land timelessness that was rooted to my "natural" inability to comprehend time due to my MPD/D1D.

Back in Louisiana, Cox and I shared a subconscious understanding of Peter Pan themes and "riding the light". The difference between us was that Cox consciously activated Tinker Air Force Base programming within Johnston’s band of mercenaries, while my trance was perpetual whereby I could "Never-Never-Land."

I was with Cox on numerous occasions when he was running guns and/or cocaine, and activating specified mercenaries for operations as instructed by Johnston, In the course of these travels I saw numerous underground arsenals and stockpiled weapons that were known to Senator Johnston, but were not on. military installations. I was also privy to government sanctioned cocaine operations.

On one such cocaine run in 1979, I traveled with Cox to a remote area in the Ouachita National Forest near Hot Springs, Arkansas to "watch for fairies like Tinker-belle" and "ride the light".

We sat in the brush near a railroad track until we saw a light approaching from the Eastern sky. At the time I thought I would be "riding the light" as I was led to believe, but in retrospect I recall my personalities being deliberately switched and a helicopter landing in a nearby clearing. Cox and I unloaded approximately 200-400 pounds of cocaine from the van he had driven, and stacked it in the helicopter.


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We were then flown to a small airport that appeared to be no more than a dark, fenced-in clearing where I saw a row of metal buildings that looked like mini-warehouses. While the cocaine was unloaded into a warehouse, Cox and I were taken by car to a nearby grey stone hold. The driver led us upstairs, and knocked on the Penthouse door.

"Yeah," a voice answered, "I got a Tinker-belle and a Peter Pan here to see you, Sir," the driver called.

"Send ’em in." Cox and I walked into the suite where then Governor of Arkansas Bill Clinton was shuffling through a briefcase. Clinton and Johnston were cohorts in illegal covert operations that emanated from Tinker Air Force Base.

Cox spoke up. "Senator Johnston said a little (Senator) Byrd told him that you are one of Ours."’

"So what does that make you?" Clinton asked impatiently.

"A Chosen One," Cox nodded his head toward me.

Clinton asked me, "Chosen by whose order?"

I cryptically delivered the proper coded response, which cued Clinton to proceed. "What brings you here?" he demanded. Interpreting his question literally as is "natural" for programmed MPD/DID slaves, I answered, "I rode the light, Sir."

Clinton rolled his eyes, and looked back over at Cox who was nervously rocking back and forth as he so often did. "State your business," Clinton ordered.

"Uh," Cox cleared his throat, habitually picked his nose as he rocked back and forth and said, "Well, uh..."

Clinton looked disgusted. "Get him the **** out of here!" he ordered the driver. Cox was immediately escorted out. "That’s better," Clinton said. Using standard Jesuit hand signals and cryptic language, he triggered/switched me and accessed a previously programmed message.

"Senator Johnston sent me to give this to you." I handed Clinton a thin, large brown envelope, "And I have some fairy dust guaranteed to make you fly high." I took the personal stash of cocaine that Johnston was sharing with Clinton from my pocket.

Clinton snorted two lines of the coke immediately. He smiled. "Tell Ben I’m impressed." He showed me to the door.

The severe torture and mind-control programming that I was enduring at Tinker Air Force Base had prepared me for this simple "mission" and many others. Although Cox’s out-of-control occult serial killings poly-fragmented my multiple personalities as intended by Byrd, it was Johnston’s alien theme mind conditioning that locked me into absolute robotic helplessness.

After all, had I been capable of rationalizing, I would nave found that the thought of interdimensional travel and aliens was no more bizarre to me that Cox’s murderous actions or having found out pornography king Jerry Ford held the office of President.

When my daughter, Kelly, was born in February of 1980, Cox’s former employer Jack Greene, traveled to Louisiana to meet with me in keeping with his role as Nashville’s CIA Freedom Train "conductor". He took me aside and explained that since Cox had fulfilled his (genetic) role in producing Kelly, Senator Byrd had ordered me back to Nashville. Greene talked at length, hypnotically reviving my original programmed "obsession" to move to Nashville.

He told me that Cox had proven too insane to follow orders anymore as was evidenced by my extremely poor health (much of my hair bad fallen out) and by the stench of decaying human flesh that permeated the area surrounding his remote Chatham, Louisiana swamp house.

If I had had a mind of my own, I know in retrospect I would have felt as though I had been released from a prison dungeon. But I could only respond by telling Cox matter-of-factly that I had received "divine guidance" to move to Nashville at once to a home that awaited me. Cox had no choice but to comply with Byrd’s orders. Kelly and I moved to Tennessee when she was only three months old, and Cox temporarily moved with us in order to apprise our new handler of the latest details of our victimization.

Within weeks, Cox moved back to Chatham, Louisiana to live with his mother (even to this date). Now he reportedly raises goats for sacrifice and carries on his occult serial killing activities unhindered due to his immunity from prosecution because of whom and what he and his mother know.

[Bluegreen]

UNITED STATES MILITARY & NASA MIND-CONTROL TRAINING

Chapter 6

Soon after moving to Tennessee, I learned that Senator Byrd had simply exchanged one living hell for another for me. My new mind-control handler, CIA operative and country music ventriloquist/ stage hypnotist Alex Houston, seemed only to pick up where Cox had left off. As "destined," Kelly and I moved into a run-down old trailer on Houston’s property, which adjoined Jack Greene’s farm in Goodletsville, Tennessee. I was subjected to further occult ritual on Greene’s farm, and was ritually impregnated and aborted again, this time by Houston.
 
A difference between Cox and Houston was the superstition factor; Houston knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it, in accordance with tried and proven scientific U.S. Government mind-control research and development. I gleaned this knowledge from conversations I overheard between him and "those in the know". Alex Houston was 26 years older than I, and claimed to have gained his knowledge of stage hypnosis and government mind-control methods from the military while entertaining overseas in Bob Hope’s USO tours.
 
After the tour, Houston reportedly moved to Washington, D.C. where he and his alter-ego dummy, Elmer, were regulars on the Jimmy Dean television show in the ’60s.1 According to Houston, he was regularly booked to entertain in officers' clubs on military bases due to his involvement in covert government operations. During the brief interim period that Cox resided on Houston’s farm with us, he played music behind government mind-controlled slave Louise Mandrell and her husband/handler, R.C. Bannon.

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Cox had previously worked with Louise’s sister, Barbara Mandrell, at the onset of her government sponsored career in the1960s, traveling overseas with her in the same U.S,O. tours that launched Houston’s career. Irby Mandrell, the Mandrells’ father and manager, reportedly sexually abused all three of his daughters and eagerly thrust them into their mind-controlled existence much the same way my father had sold me. His daughters, too, were owned by U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd.

Cox was soon fired from his position with Louise due to his insanity. Once when Houston was traveling with the Mandrells as he so often did throughout the years, Irby Mandrell relayed the events that prompted his firing of Cox. He told Houston and I that Cox had become an embarrassment to him while traveling.

"I knew he was weird," Irby Mandrell said. "That’s OK. I can live with that. But when he pitched a tent behind the hotel so he could hear the trumpets sound, signaling him to march to Missouri,2 I said, ’Start marching, son. You’re done. You’re through in Nashville. Don’t ever come back.’ That’s it, he was done."

Houston reminisced with Mandrell about the U.S.O. days, and inquired as to how he had tolerated Cox back when he played music behind Barbara.

"Oh, yeah. I remember he (Cox) had somewhat of a brain back then." Irby Mandrell continued, "Barbara was just a kid back then with the talent of a full blown star. I thought she had what it takes to make it in the industry. Then the Byrd came along and introduced us to the latest in technology."

Houston interrupted, "Are you talking about (music) equipment or the kind they’ve got in Huntsviile (Alabama’s NASA mind-control training center)?"

"Both," Mandrell replied. "But it was Huntsville that launched her to the stars. The doors opened wide after that. Byrd took a lot of pride in Barbara, and the doors just kept opening. With my baby’s talent and the Byrd’s influence on her mind and career, there was no way we could lose."

When Houston became my appointed mind-control handler in 1980, Byrd’s influence on my mind boosted Houston’s "entertainment" career. His travels had expanded to accommodate covert drug and money laundering operations across the U.S., in Mexico, in Canada, and throughout the Caribbean.

Houston had, and has, a great deal of "no show" money, but I was never permitted access to it. Poverty was one more means of control I endured, as slaves like myself were not afforded the freedoms that having money allows. When I was working three menial jobs during college, all of my money was taken from me by my parents. All money earned by Cox’s cocaine and body parts enterprises was reinvested in the coven and drugs, leaving us dependent on charities for our basic necessities.
 
With Houston, I had to "earn" every penny I spent on groceries and necessities over and over again, which made "earning my keep" a deliberately impossible cycle. This kept me financially dependent and further hindered my ability to escape, even if I had known enough to attempt it.

My innate protective maternal instincts as a mother may have been accentuated due to my past unsuccessful attempts to protect my brothers and sisters (I now had two sisters). It was my desperate need to keep Kelly safe that drove me to the point of "fight or flight" when I was transferred to Houston. I had long ago lost my ability to "fight," but my new maternal instincts compelled me to "flight". I did all I could to save Kelly and myself from Houston and her fate in Project Monarch.
 
Since I had no ability to reason and was amnesic, I "fled" to my parents’ new house in affluent Grand Haven, Michigan, I had no concept of what I was running from or to. I arrived with my baby daughter in my arms, the tattered clothes on our backs, and what few donated belongings I had acquired for Kelly. Within a few days, my parents received and followed Senator Byrd’s instructions, and turned me back over to Houston—who, in turn, sent me back to Louisiana for further conditioning.

After three more months of intense, nonstop tortures by Cox, I could not think to follow maternal instincts and barely knew my own name. I had no idea how old I was, where I was, how long I had been there, and what had happened to Kelly during that time, Kelly’s own testimony and current programmed poly fragmented Multiple Personality/Dissociative Identity Disorder reflects the high tech, sophisticated conditioning and torturous trauma she endured during this and numerous ensuing times that we were separated. When I was returned to Houston as orchestrated by Byrd, my brain contained a series of new compartments ready to be programmed and led.

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Intensive mind-control behavior programming began at once, and Houston ensured that I was taken to my appointed destinations under the guise of his travels in the country music industry. In the early 1980s, my base programming was instilled at Fort Campbell, Kentucky by U.S. Army Lt. Colonel Michael Aquino.

Aquino holds a TOP SECRET clearance in the Defense Intelligence Agency’s Psychological Warfare Division (Psy Ops). He is a professed Neo-Nazi, the founder of the Himmler inspired satanic Temple of Set, and has been charged with child ritual and sexual abuse at the Presidio Day Care in San Francisco, California.
 
But like my father and Cox, Aquino remains "above the law" while he continues to traumatize and program CIA destined young minds in a quest to reportedly create the "superior race" of Project Monarch Mind-Controlled slaves. I quickly teamed that Aquino did not adhere to his profoundly professed occult superstition any more than I did. His "satanic power" was in the form of numerous variations of high voltage stun guns, which he used on me regularly.
 
Although Aquino used occultism (blood trauma) as a trauma base, his programming was high tech and "clean"—not muddled in a proverbial witches’ brew of ignorance. He quickly dispelled the Cox influence, and began programming me according to Byrd’s specifications as his "own little witch" for sadistic sex, covert CIA drug muling, black mail, and prostitution operations.


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During the three months I was back with Cox, a muscle in my upper vaginal wall was cut and dropped in preparation for Houston to flesh carve a hideous witch’s face 4 for Senator Byrd’s perversion. Aquino provided the ancient instructions on how to mutilate me, and Houston used silver nitrate and hot extract knives to carve the details of the face without any form of anesthesia. By flexing the muscle downward, the face protruded out of my vagina. Not only did this surgery give Byrd a vagina suited to his minute, underdeveloped penis, it also provided an equitable "curiosity" to be displayed over and over again in both commercial and non-commercial pornography and prostitution.

On the 1981 anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s assassination, I was forced to "marry" Alex Houston for appearance sake. Earlier that month when I had been taken to Washington, D.C for prostitution purposes, Byrd informed me that I would actually be "marrying" him when I "pledged my vows" to Houston.

"It is a covenant between the two of us," Byrd had said, "It is me that you will honor and obey ’til death do us part," Byrd then instructed me to pick up my wedding dress from a nearby D.C. store. Throughout the years, Houston often joked about the significance of my Washington, D.C. wedding dress— which was depicted in pornographic photos and a commercial video to "commemorate our wedding night", Alex Houston’s "best man," Jimmy Walker, was also a photographer for Larry Flynt’s sexually graphic commercial pornography magazine, Hustler.
 
When I met Byrd after the ceremony at Nashville’s Opryland Hotel as ordered, he presented me with a "wedding gift"—a rose patterned crystal crucifix deliberately designed to anchor "our wedding" in my Catholic/Vatican instilled beliefs. The Larry Flynt photos depicting me in my wedding dress with the crystal crucifix to "commemorate our wedding night," was standard lock-in procedure for all mind-controlled slaves I knew who were forced to "marry" their handlers/owners.

[Bluegreen]

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[Bluegreen]

Houston’s booking agent, Reggie Mac (McLaughlin), of United Talent and later of MacFadden Agency in Nashville, Tennessee, had been booking CIA involved country music acts into key locations to aid the execution of covert government operations. For example, Houston’s ventriloquist act "Alex and Elmer" would be scheduled to perform at a county or state fair near Washington, D.C., where I would be picked up by car or helicopter and escorted to the White House or the Pentagon.


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The late Reggie “Mac” McLaughlin

The ensuing activities would be compartmentalized in my memory in a manner that caused me to believe I had simply been traveling in the country music industry, and no one "back home" would be suspect of my absence. Another example would be that Houston "entertained" at Byrd’s West Virginia State Fair every year, which gave a legitimate appearance to my presence there, when in fact I was being prostituted to the Senator I had "married."

During the early ’80s, Reggie McLaughlin primarily booked Houston into areas that were conducive to my mind-control programming with Aquino. I was first subjected to Aquino’s tortures and programming in Fort Campbell, Kentucky; Fort McClellen in Anniston, Alabama; and most frequently, at Redstone Arsenal and Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama.
 
Military mind-control was fast, effective, and highly technological, but it was the NASA programming that launched me as a "Presidential Model". Even though Aquino instilled my programming on both military and NASA installations, he had access to the latest technological advancements and techniques through NASA. These included mind foolers such as sensory deprivation tanks, virtual reality, flight simulators, and harmonics.
 
By the age of two, Kelly had already been subjected to Aquino and his programming through these latest technological advancements, which shattered her fragile young mind before her base personality had a chance to form. Rather than use occultism on Kelly, Aquino traumatized her through sexual assault and high voltage tortures of the mind and body. She, like I, to this day carries numerous scars from this "non satanic" abuse base.

I know, from years of research, NASA technology and Aquino’s programming, combined with the Project Monarch standard sleep, food, and water deprivation and high voltage, made Kelly a subject of state of the art genetically multigenerational MPD/D1D psychological mind-control engineering.

In 1981, Byrd personally joined Aquino in Huntsville, Alabama during one of our programming sessions. NASA cooperated fully with Byrd on any and everything, since it was Byrd’s Senate Appropriations Committee that determined how much and/or whether NASA received government funding. I lay naked on the cold metal table, tranced and photographically recording every word and detail of my programming and every word that Byrd and Aquino not so privately discussed.
 
Byrd was providing Aquino with specific details of certain perversions he wanted me equipped to fulfill or perform. Additionally, they talked about scrambling my immediate memory with two private porn films they were arranging to have produced locally. These were titled How To Divide a Personality and How To Create a Sex Slave. These films are the kind NASA became involved in producing for the dual purpose of "scrambling" memory and documenting their mind control procedures. The resident Huntsville, Alabama pornographers were two local cops, one of which was (and is) a Sergeant.5 This served NASA and the CIA well when cover-up was necessary.

The How To Create a Sex Slave film depicts the common "spin" programming, which in essence is the combination to unlocking or accessing a specific programmed act. For example, the compartment of the mind that holds memory of incest is stimulated to open when the original abuse is eminent. Seeing my father’s penis would "trigger" a specific response, supposedly opening the neuron pathways of my brain to allow the part of my brain that dealt with his actions before to deal with them again.
 
With "spin" programming, the trigger of seeing my father’s penis is replaced with a combination of specific verbal commands and a specific number of physical spins so that anyone with the "combination" could access that particular part of my brain. The part of my mind containing "knowledge" of the original abuse by my father learned to "like" painful, sadistic sex. Senator Byrd wanted me programmed in such a way that he could decide if he wanted me to scream and cry when he whipped me, or if he wanted me to become sexually aroused and "beg" for more.
 
After programming, when I met with Byrd, I would "dance" like a music box dancer, twirling round and round until Byrd’s fiddle music stopped. My mind precisely calculated how many revolutions I had made whether I was capable of conscious counting or not (much like a normal person wakes up at a particular time without an alarm clock), and the desired results were produced as accessed.

This is but one simplified example of sex programming, and I was programmed for more than sex. But this particular incident of programming at the U.S. Army Redstone Arsenal would change my existence entirely and set the stage for my role in covert government black, budget-type operations as a "Presidential Model".

Seeing and/or knowing that Kelly was being tortured and programmed proved to be a detriment to my own mind-control programming, such that the common "cross-programming" of mother and daughter was rarely viable. In the fall of 1982, Houston was scheduled to perform at the State Fair in Senator Byrd’s home state of West Virginia, Byrd arrived at our hotel with LT. COL. Aquino, who took Kelly with him, supposedly for programming purposes, I was left alone in the hotel room with Byrd, whose KKK affiliation fueled his rage over my having been recently prostituted to black entertainer and CIA operative Charlie Pride.


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Although I had had no control over the situation to begin with, Byrd expended his fury on me rather than on Houston who was ultimately responsible for the incident. He took out his whip and began beating me as he had so many times before. Only this time it seemed to last forever.

Byrd was still whipping me when Aquino returned with my tranced and traumatized daughter. I regained consciousness enough to pull myself up off the floor when I heard Kelly’s hysterical cries. Byrd ordered me to the bathroom for a cold shower to stop the bleeding. My body could not carry out his orders, and I collapsed again in the bathroom, smearing blood all over the floor. Kelly’s cries again revived me, and I crawled to the door to find Byrd sexually assaulting her and Aquino disrobing to join them.
 
One small window in the bathroom appeared to be a possible means of escape to obtain help, but Byrd caught me and knocked me to the floor. The whole bathroom was smeared in blood by the time he threw me into the shower and turned the cold water on to slow the bleeding.

Later that afternoon, Kelly and I stood hand in hand in the afternoon sun at the State Fair where Senator Byrd was about to make a speech to his constituents. My blouse stuck to my freshly whipped skin as Byrd walked onto the stage, and the crowd cheered.
 
Although Byrd periodically sexually abused Kelly throughout her Project Monarch victimization, the horrific incident in West Virginia was the last time I was able to instinctively think to respond at all. Aquino’s mind-control programming further insured it, as did Byrd’s access to high tech mind-control equipment via West Virginia’s Jesuit College, where he claimed the role of "Head Friar".

Kelly has reported enduring much sexual abuse by both Byrd and Aquino. Aquino apparently incorporated sexual abuse with his mind-control programming and sex training of her, and shared more such events with Byrd. It was also my experience that Byrd’s sexual perversions were heightened when Aquino shared in the assault. Traumatic events such as this one in West Virginia reinforced my own programming through conditioning, and further locked me in to Byrd’s seemingly inescapable control.

The majority of my programming, as well as a large part of Kelly’s, was again Oz theme based. This means the combination of codes, keys and triggers to access me were related to L. Frank Baum’s story, The Wizard Of Oz. Whether or not it was Baum’s intention (or for that matter Walt Disney’s, Lewis Carroll’s, etc.), it is evident that his psychologically intense story was used for manipulating minds.
 
Much of The Wizard Of Oz lends itself to themes commonly used by perpetrators. For example, nearly all MPD/DIDs have suffered the loss of pets during ritualized torture. And all of Baum’s primary character Dorothy’s nightmarish experiences "over the rainbow in Oz" stemmed from her desire to risk her own life to protect her threatened pet. Abusers use this lesson to condition the victim to drop all resistance and cooperate or "I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog (or child) too."


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The "over the rainbow" scramble of dreams vs. reality provides abusers a theme by which to manipulate an MPD’s subconscious perception of switching personalities. Oftentimes this theme is transdimensional as is Oz, or that which was just experienced was "just a bad dream" like Dorothy was told upon her awakening in her own bed back in Kansas.

CIA cryptic language is manipulation of the English language such that words have a double meaning (aka ’double binds’ in mental health terminology.) It works much the way as communication through "inside jokes", among people familiar with each other. Perhaps this is a reason for the government’s use of professional comedians as slave handlers.
 
Since mind-controlled slaves’ minds function consciously through their subconscious, which has no way of discerning fantasy from reality or intended meaning from literal meaning, cryptic dual level language is especially effective. Many CIA covert operations I was involved in occurred in public. Anyone who overheard the conversation would have discerned something very different from what actually "trance-spired".
 
For example, one of my Washington, D.C. Secret Service escorts linked arms with me like Dorothy did with her companions when walking the Yellow Brick Road. This would have appeared to be normal behavior, or even romantic, to outsiders. But to me it was a signal to "stay the course" (Bush’s quote) and follow directions. Arm in arm we walked through the crowded Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian to the nearby NASA headquarters.
 
There he read the "Service Entrance" sign on the door accentuating syllables ever so slightly so that I heard him cryptically command, "Serve-us, En-Trance".

[Bluegreen]

CHARM SCHOOL

Chapter 7

After Aquino instilled my base sex programming, I was often taken by Houston to Youngstown, Ohio to attend the sex slave training camp hell hole referred to as "Charm School". Houston often performed in the Youngstown area at county fairs, Fraternal Order of Police shows, or any little country music entertainment gigs that would bring us in the proximity of the dreaded Charm School. On occasion, Kelly would go through the torture process with me.


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But usually Houston delivered me to the door for training with other CIA and Mafia slaves my age, and then left taking Kelly with him. When Charm School was in session, there were several girls being tortured and trained at once. I have seen and known numerous girls to go through Charm School, but, understandably, few are reported to have survived or recovered their minds enough to talk about it.

Charm School was reportedly operated by an identified member of the Mellon Banking family (Byrd’s Endowment for the Arts’ largest contributor). The operator took the name and role of "Governor" from the movie My Fair Lady, in an attempt to confuse my torturous reality with movie fantasy.
 
In the movie, Governor is the cockney title given the professor who transformed a female street urchin into a functioning high society lady. Additionally, Mellon’s use of the title, Governor, was intended to create scramble for the real Governor who frequented the school as though it were only a whore house. I am referring to then Governor of Pennsylvania (and later U.S. Attorney General, now secretary for the United Nations) Dick Thornburgh.


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The late Pennsylvania Governor Dick Thornburgh

Aquino provided some of the programming at Charm School and everyone I knew in government operations was at least aware of it. Then Youngstown Sheriff, now U.S. Representative Jim Traficant, was usually present. He capitalized on his ability to portray himself as "Lurch" by slowly opening the door and saying, "Walk this way - To a literal slave in training, this means walk like he is walking-like Lurch, Egor, a street whore, Scarecrow, and so on.


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The late Ohio Rep Jim Traficant went to prison on bribery charges in 2002

Once the door closed behind me, Charm School meant I would be charmed, mesmerized (hypnotized), and programmed to be a high class prostitute for select politicians. I did learn their way to walk, I learned when to talk, how to dress, how to sit, stand, and all the rest. Table manners were not taught as they were not needed since slaves endured food and water deprivation when working. Above all, we were taught how to gratify any sexual perversion. Traficant opened the door to Charm School for slaves, he oftentimes was the one to "test" their newly learned sexual skills to determine when or if slaves could leave.

A typical three-day course at Charm School included the usual factors of, sleep, food, and water deprivation; trauma; high voltage; and programming. Often times experimental or tried and proven CIA manufactured "designer" drugs were administered which produced specific brain wave activity to maximize and/or compartmentalize programs. I usually spent the first day hanging in the dungeon.
 
Charm School is housed in an identified stone historical railroad barren’s former residence, and the basement was in fact a wine cellar dungeon. It was dark, damp, and musty and was decorated in classic torture chamber fashion. It was complete with various hanging chains, a stretching rack, whips, and altars including one specially designed for bestiality sex.
 
As I hung by my wrists, I could hear and smell the animals in the next cells—a black Nubian goat called Satan, a small donkey named Nester, sometimes a small white pony referred to as Trigger, and various dogs, cats, snakes, and others. All Charm School animals were trained to sexually respond to the smell of urine. When someone, such as Dick Thornburgh who particularly enjoyed this kind of kink, entered my cell and urinated on me, I knew I would soon be released from my chains and led to the animal altar for bestiality lessons, pornography, or to please a perverse onlooker.
 
I was hung by my ankles, stretched on a rack, burned, and tortured repeatedly. My feet and hands were chained to a wall for what was termed "off the wall sex." I was taught "Silence" in Oz fashion since screaming did not produce results anyway unless they wanted it for pornography. This was implemented with an electronic canine bark collar normally used to train a dog not to bark.

I was repeatedly filmed pornographically, and always taken upstairs to the "Master’s Chambers" for prostitution to participants, including the real "Governor" of Charm School, then Pennsylvania Governor Dick Thornburgh, Congressman Jim Traficant, Lt. Col. Michael Aquino, and others. When Kelly was with me, she endured the same and we were forced to see each other physically tortured as further psychological trauma. This was to ensure I could never remember the who, what, when, or where of our bizarre enslavement. This is what is sometimes referred to as cross-programming.

In spite of the deliberately created amnesic blocks, I developed a sub-conscious sympathetic understanding for other Charm School slaves that extended outside the walls of this man-made hell. This understanding emanated from the depths of my being, creating a compassion for other mind-control victims mat compels me to give voice to their silent pleas for help to this day.

I became close friends with one such victim, who must remain anonymous in order to survive to eventually recover. This beautiful blonde and I had numerous opportunities to be together throughout the years, as Houston’s government sponsored travels routinely took him into her home state of Pennsylvania while Dick Thornburgh was Governor.

My friend and I were photographed together for Larry Flynt’s commercial pornography publications, and featured in the illicit films that contributed to funding CIA covert operations. In addition to this, she and I were able to spend two weeks together when her husband/handler traveled to Houston’s farm in Tennessee for instructions on handling his new "bride".

I was "made of honor" for my friend’s "wedding," which was no more a marriage than mine to Houston. As was customary with Project Monarch slaves, her marriage to her handler equated to marriage to her mind-control owner, U.S. Senator Arlen Spector.


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The late Pennsylvania Senator Arlen Specter

The "wedding" I was forced to participate in was for pornography purposes only, and it took place in Arlen Spector’s Conneaut Lake house in Pennsylvania.

Spector’s stone house was located in a wooded, remote setting and was masculine in decor. Side rooms were either designated for perverse sex or were furnished with antiquated NASA virtual reality and programming equipment. The musty smell of Spector’s playhouse was overpowered by the scent of roses, which he symbolically presented to his slave on their "wedding" day.

My friend’s "wedding" photos included Catholic themes, and the crucifix featured was rose cut crystal similar to the one I received from Byrd.

Regardless of how this girl was depicted, her innate morality was apparent to me. She and I were referred to as "minor/mere cats," due to the similarity of our victimizations. Like me, she was controlled through manipulation of her religious beliefs and maternal instincts. The delicate rose tattooed on her left wrist signifying her role in government operations did not detract from her high class projection any more than Spector’s immorality could mar her innate goodness. Once Arlen Spector officially became this slave’s owner, her Charm School status rose to "Presidential Model".

[Bluegreen]

In addition to Charm School, I endured extensive programming to prepare me for future operations. Houston was often booked into Oklahoma fairs, Masonic Lodges, F.O.P. Conventions, and so on, in order that I be back in the vicinity of Tinker Air Force Base for further programming.

My Tinker-Belle conditioning further enhanced my photographic memory through direct control for receiving and delivering government messages which amounted to a computerized compartmentalization of my brain, so to speak. I was also trained in covert criminal operations, such as international drug mule transactions for funding the Pentagon’s and CIA’s Black Ops Budgets.

Houston’s CIA orchestrated travels in the country music industry led me to a TOP SECRET military/NASA installation at Offut Air Force Base in Nebraska. The "you can run, but you can’t hide" conditioning was deeply ingrained in my mind there through a technique that was later used on Kelly, as well as on other mind-control slaves, I was taken underground to a so-called ’secret’ circular room where the walls were covered with numerous screens showing satellite pictures from around the world.


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These satellites are referred to as the "Eye in the Sky". An Air Force official explained to me that my every move "could be monitored via satellite". On a separate four-screen viewer, he demonstrated what in retrospect was a contrived pre-recorded slide show, with the scenes changing as rapidly as he spoke and typed it into the computer.

"Where will you run?" he asked me. "To the Arctic? The Antarctic? Brazil? The mountains? The desert? The prairies? The hills of Afghanistan? The city of Kabul? Devil’s Tower Wyoming? Would you try to run to Cuba and live among our enemies? We can find you there. There is truly no place to run and no place to hide.

The U.S. Senate (the picture was of Byrd)? The White House? Or to your own backyard? (My father was depicted waving from his front door, cupping his hands over his mouth saying, "come back" just like Aunt Em in The Wizard Of Oz.) "The moon? We got you covered. You can run, but you can’t hide."

This had been sufficient to convince me in my suggestible stale that my every move could be monitored.

During the course of my training/conditioning, I was routinely prostituted to Senator Byrd in Washington, D.C., at the West Virginia State Fair, NASA in Huntsville, Alabama, and at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee. One such night when 1 was to be prostituted to Byrd at Opryland Hotel, Lt. Colonel Aquino was scheduled to join him in perversely assaulting me. Much to my horror, Aquino arrived early, in full army dress uniform, backstage at the Grand Ol’ Opry.


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When I saw Aquino talking with the Vatican based Project Monarch slave runner, Kris Kristofferson, whom I had known since 1979, my personality programmed for Opry events "short circuited". Under circumstances such as this, a multiple without programming would have switched personalities autogenic ally, whereas I could only switch upon command, I backed away, dazed, right into a soft drink machine. Kristofferson saw me as I backed further between the wall and the machine.

"What are you doing in there, little lady?" Kristofferson asked. "The Colonel wants to see you".

Aquino had walked over and sarcastically asked, "What are you doing in those machine wires? That could very well be a shocking experience for you."

All experiences with Aquino or Kristofferson resulted in high voltage electric shock torture, and apparently neither had any regard for human life.5 Aquino used the opportunity to reinforce his belief that I "had no where to run, nowhere to hide" from his "power"- his stun gun.

While I untangled myself from the wires, Kristofferson and Aquino continued their banter at my expense, Kristofferson held up his key ring and jingled it, catching my undivided attention as conditioned, while he told Aquino, "You’re gonna need the Keys to the Kingdom to work with this one right here."

"Keys to the Kingdom," of course, referred to my previously instilled (Enter/Inter) "Inner-dimensional" Catholic programmed personalities. Since Aquino was my primary mind-control programmer at the time, Kristofferson was informing Aquino of programs previously instilled in childhood via the "Rite to Remain Silent". By jingling the keys, he was demonstrating his control over me and his momentary edge on Aquino.

"I got ’em," Kristofferson was saying as he jingled the keys. "She’s mine unless you wanna play ball. Besides, you have to. The Byrd sent me."

"I’ve been expecting you," Aquino said with a smile.

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Events later that night proved that Aquino had been supplied the keys to my previously established Jesuit based programming, which he and Byrd used and altered to suit their own perversions.

Byrd monitored all of my programming "progress," and often tortured me with his whip and pocketknife. He picked up where my mother left off, to destroy any self-esteem I might have inadvertently developed. He said,

"There is no place for you to turn because if you could think to talk no one would ever believe I would have anything to do with the likes of you."

He often threatened me that I was considered "disposable, because, after all, the first Presidential Model, Marilyn Monroe, was killed right in front of the public eye and no one knew what happened."

Byrd’s threats and cruelty were unnecessary as I could no longer think to seek help anyway, but he loved to hear himself talk and would often drone on and on and on in his infamous long-winded recitations, while I was photographically recording every word he said.

He detailed the inner operational structure of the world domination effort, including psychological warfare strategies, and explained how he had and would utilize his "expert" knowledge of the Constitution to manipulate it and the so-called U.S. Justice System, and more. His loose lips provided me yet another means of surviving and staying a step ahead of "the game" once Kelly and I were rescued from our mind-con trolled existence.

Senator Byrd revealed his "justifications" for criminal activity to me as well. He used me as a sounding board even though he knew I was incapable of input or response. He rehearsed in keeping with his motto "The only way we can fail, is to fail to think of an excuse."

Byrd "justified" mind-control atrocities as a means of thrusting mankind into accelerated evolution, according to the Neo-Nazi principles to which he adhered. He "justified" manipulating mankind’s religion to bring about the prophesied biblical "world peace" through the "only means available"—total mind control in the New World Order.

"After all," he proclaimed, "even the Pope and Mormon Prophet know this is the only way to peace and they cooperate fully with The Project."

Byrd also "justified" my victimization by saying, "You lost your mind anyway, and at least you have destiny and purpose now that it’s mine." Our country’s involvement in drug distribution, pornography, and white slavery was justified" as a means of "gaining control of all illegal activities world wide" to fund Black Budget covert activity that would "bring about world peace through world dominance and total control".

He adhered to the belief that "95% of the (world’s) people WANT to be led by the 5%", and claimed this can be proven because "the 95% DO NOT WANT TO KNOW what really goes on in government".

Byrd believed that in order for this world to survive, mankind must take a "giant step in evolution through creating a superior race".

To create this "superior race," Byrd believed in the Nazi and KKK principles of "annihilation of underprivileged races and cultures" through genocide, to alter genetics and breed "the more gifted-the blondes of this world".

As Byrd’s captive audience (literally), I absorbed information that the other so-called masterminds behind the New World Order would never have revealed for security reasons. But Byrd regarded me as "his" object, a game-piece that he could strategically move through life as though he were playing a chess game. He perceived me as totally under his control with no possibility of my ever being rescued, surviving, and recovering my mind and memory. Byrd likely would have talked to a post, and I filled the role as his silent sounding board.

My CIA Operative mind-control handler, Alex Houston was often scheduled to perform at the Swiss Villa Amphitheatre & Resort in Lampe, Missouri, which is yet another installation where I was programmed. Swiss Villa was a cover for a CIA Near Death Trauma Center of which there are several across the country. It is a remote, high security resort, enclosed with military barbed wire fences, that swings its guarded gate open to the local public for country music concerts.


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Swiss Villa Amphitheater & Resort – Lampe, Missouri

The small Amphitheatre covers the covert activities occurring inside, which includes U.S. Government CIA cocaine and heroin distribution operations and mind-control projects.

Swiss Villa, like the Mount Shasta, California compound, was also used as a training and operations camp for the Shadow Government’s paramilitary projects referred to by Senator Inouye (D. HI). I learned that this not-so-secret military buildup, sanctioned by corrupt members of our government, consisted of special forces trained robotic soldiers, numerous black unmarked helicopters, and the highest technological advancements in TOP SECRET weaponry and "Star Wars" electro magnetic mind-control equipment. These paramilitary compounds were intended for global policing of the New World Order through the Multi-Jurisdictional Police Force.

"A Most Dangerous Game" was often played at Swiss Villa and involved CIA agents, politicians, and others who would attend the resort just for the sport of hunting humans. Kelly and I both were hunted at Swiss Villa. The tortures and rape after being caught were extensive and sufficiently traumatized our minds for ensuing programming, as well as for creating memory compartmentalization for the high level operations we witnessed behind the villa’s patrolled fences.

It was at Swiss Villa that I was taught "THE Most Dangerous Game" was one where a slave tried to escape and reveal what he or she had learned. If the hunters could not catch and stop the slave, then the black helicopters patrolling the area would. And if all else failed, the "Eye in the Sky" would locate him or her, and a torturous death was supposedly imminent.

According to my abusers, my deprograminer and primary advocate Mark Phillips and I have embarked on "THE Most Dangerous Game" through efforts such as releasing this book and turning a spotlight on the Shadow Government to reveal its members’ identities and their crimes against humanity, Mark Phillips and I are determined to beat them at their own "game" by arming the "95%" with the truth that perpetrators "don’t want them to know!"

[Bluegreen]

THE CIA’S WAR ON DRUGS: ELIMINATING COMPETITION

Chapter 8

Entertainers were used to buy, sell, and distribute cocaine brought into this country by the U.S. government for the purpose of funding the Pentagon’s and CIA’s Black Budgets. Nashville’s local government, from my perspective, was totally corrupted by these criminal covert operations. Cover-up, murder, drugs, and white slavery prevailed. Entertainers usually made it big only when they participated in CIA operations and/or were slaves themselves. I know of numerous entertainers in need of rescue and deprogramming from their mind-controlled existence, because it was discovered that voices could be harmonically tuned through mind control to captivate audiences.

Norwegian Caribbean Lines (NCL) cruise ships depart regularly from Miami, Florida and travel throughout the Caribbean and Mexico. NCL provides pleasure cruises to the public complete with "entertainment" like that of my handler, ventriloquist Alex Houston, while carrying out CIA operations. Sue Carper, former director of entertainment procurement for all NCL cruise ships, would ensure that government covert activities staging were properly orchestrated.

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She rotated entertainers like Houston from ship to ship in order to avoid the scrutiny of clean U.S. Customs and Immigrations inspectors. I routinely took cruises with Houston, muling cocaine and/or heroin out of Haiti, the Bahamas, Mexico, the Virgin Islands, and Puerto Rico to fund covert operations. While I was robotically carrying out transactions as ordered, I was also prostituted to South and Central American drug lords and politicians, as well as filmed pornographically. Houston made sure I was in the right place at the right time and switched me into the proper mode for each activity I was forced to carry out.

In the early 1980s, this included passing messages to and from Senator Byrd, Baby Doc Duvalier, my Cuban contact, Puerto Rican drug lord Jose Busto, and others.


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Clockwise: Busto, Byrd, Baby Doc

The drug business was booming for the CIA, and the only "War on Drugs" I witnessed was that launched by the CIA against its competition. As quickly as I brought the NCL suitcases of drugs into the Port of Miami, they were usually transferred to Houston’s factory custom-built Holiday Rambler motor home. Concealed compartments were built into the walls for hiding the illegal drugs.

If I drove the drug-filled motor home on to Nashville rather than deposit the drugs en route at Warner-Robbins Air Force Base in Macon, Georgia, the bulk was stored in the Hendersonville Mormon "food storage" Bishop’s Warehouse. Some cocaine was delivered to a music distributor in Nashville, Tennessee, where it was carefully packaged in participating entertainers’ cassettes, for delivery along their carefully scheduled travel routes. Houston always kept a large amount of the cocaine for his own use and distribution.


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Jimmy Buffett

An example of a typical Caribbean drug operation centered around the NCL port of call. Key West, Florida. Houston took Kelly and me to a nearby tennis court under the guise of playing tennis. In reality, I was to meet with CIA Operative Jimmy Buffett, who devoted more time to the proliferation of CIA criminal covert activity than he did to his music career cover. Buffett was playing tennis. Referring to him as though he were to be my tennis instructor, Houston said,

"There’s your instructor. As soon as he gathers the balls, he should be over here to meet you."

Noticing us, Buffett strode over and shook hands with Houston. "Hi, Jimmy," Houston said as though they were old buddies. "Hi, Alex and Elmer," Buffett responded, sarcastically using Houston’s stage name. "Oh," Houston said. Never one to know an insult when he heard it, he continued, "What do your friends call you?" "What does it matter to you?" Buffett asked. "Uncle calls me Jim. I take it you’re not the contact." Houston pointed to me, "She is." "That’s more like it," Buffett smiled. "A little Byrd told me I’d be meeting with a Diamond in the Rough, but I prefer a Diamond in the Buff. I’ve got a studio across the street."

As we walked toward his studio, I was oblivious to the meaning behind his conversation with Houston and commented, "I understand you’re an instructor. I wish I had brought my racquet."

"I’m not that kind of an instructor," Buffett explained, "I’m a point man for Uncle. And you’ve got an appointment with me. I have some instructions to give you."

As we entered his studio, he said, "Welcome to paradise," and gestured me in. We went into the small living quarters, which may have appeared even smaller due to the electronic equipment, acoustic guitars, and furniture that filled the room.

A black mirrored coffee table, atypical of cocaine users I’d known, was the clearest spot in the room, A gold razor blade, cocaine residue, an ashtray full of marijuana roaches, and a fanned deck of card with the queen of hearts on top lay on the table. Tropical plants further cluttered the room. Standing between a perched, stuffed parrot and a banana tree, Buffett was saying,

"Key West is a key place to be. It’s the key to the Caribbean - Cuba, Panama - anyplace that means anything to Uncle these days, I hold the keys. I’m keeper of the keys and I hold a few of yours."
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Looking at his parrot, he continued, "The bird/Byrd says you respond to pair-o-dice, look deep into the parrot eyes. "I did as instructed, and Buffett popped out the bird’s ruby red eyes, which actually were dice, into his hand. "Roll your eyes high while I roll my pair-o-dice," he ordered as he rolled the dice across the table. Stopping at the deck of cards, he picked up the jack of diamonds.

"I am a jack of all trades," he cryptically continued. "And I trade in whatever Uncle orders. An order has been placed. You must follow orders and go to that place. Go to the White House Inn at the pier. Carry your laundry bag (full of cash) with you, and see the man in black. (My Cuban contact almost always wore a conspicuous black trench coat.) There is a launder man on the dock itself.

They do all my laundering for me, and will be expecting you. Watch for the sea-man with the duffel bag. When you see the military green duffel bag, approach the desk. When he says, "I need this laundered, but I do not have the time," you say, "Welcome to Paradise. I will make sure it is cleaned and delivered on time." Then give him your duffel bag of ’laundry’ and say, "This has been properly laundered for you". Take the duffel bag. It will be light as a feather. Return to the Inn and enjoy the buffet."

Changing modes, Buffett unzipped his shorts as he asked, "Do you like a buffet? I have a Buffett buffet for you now. And it is Paradise!"

Jimmy Buffett Nearly Became a Drug Smuggler in Key West - Daily Mail
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4496880/Jimmy-Buffett-nearly-drug-smuggler-Key-West.html

I carried out the drug transaction as ordered, the whole ordeal lasting a matter of minutes. A buffet was spread in the courtyard of the White House Inn at 4:00 PM just as Buffett said it would be. But due to the food and water deprivation necessary to maintaining my mind-controlled trance, Houston forbid me from carrying out this last part of Buffett’s instructions, Alex Houston Enterprises was another side business that Houston used to cover for his CIA criminal covert activities.


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Former Queens, NY Congressman Gary Ackerman - Loretta Lynn

It included the re-labelling of G.E. capacitors for the "energy savings" companies, Queen Electric and Phase Linear, he shared with his former wife and first CIA mind-controlled slave. She was a Catholic processed Puerto Rican blonde beauty. These G.E. capacitor banks were sold internationally as energy saving devices, when in fact they provided one more means of transporting drugs from the U.S. around the world.

It was Houston’s G.E. capacitor scam that provided me insight into the elaborate Long Island docks drug network run by U.S. Congressman Gary Ackerman (D. NY). I first met Ackerman in 1981 when Houston was booked into the Woodberry Music Festival with known CIA mind-control victim Loretta Lynn.
 
Loretta’s road manager, Neo-Nazi pedophile Ken Riley, who was also Alex Houston’s best friend, often assisted Houston in handling me. Riley in turn handed my Charm School programmed keys, codes, and triggers to Congressman Ackerman, who skillfully accessed my Alice In Wonderland mirror theme programming. After snorting a couple of lines of coke, he stepped into the center of a three way mirror where he positioned me and proceeded to sexually gratify himself in my throat.

Ken Riley, and other involved members of Loretta’s band, all laughed as Ackerman stumbled around the room while pulling his pants up from around his ankles and complaining that he "couldn’t stand for sex like that". The term "Ackerman syndrome" was coined after that in reference to sex that drained a man of his energy, and circulated among "those who know" for years.

[Bluegreen]

RONALD REAGAN’S AMERICAN DREAM: A PANDORA’S BOX OF NIGHTMARES

Chapter 9


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My mind-controlled existence became more complicated after Senator Byrd introduced me to then President Ronald Reagan in the fall of 1982 at a White House political party. Byrd told me,

"When you meet the Chief, imagine him with his pants down. He’s most comfortable knowing you are imagining him with his pants down. He doesn’t want formality."

Former president Ford had conditioned me to dread the Office of President, and I mechanically went through the motions of meeting Reagan.

Reagan admittedly had seen the How To Divide a Personality and How To Create a Sex Slave videos made in Huntsville, Alabama. He acted very pleased with me as though I had participated in them willingly. Within the first few minutes of meeting Reagan, he was giving me acting tips to utilize in government operations and pornography!!

"When you become your part, your performance increases, which in turn increases your ability to do your part—for your country. ’Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country’-your part," he instructed.

Somehow, Reagan’s reminder of Ford’s and VanderJagt’s conditioning to Kennedy’s quote seemed more patriotically significant than "simply" sexually entertaining politicians by waving a flag in my bottom. After gazing deep into his self-professed "kaleidoscope eyes," each metaphorical phrase he spoke became life and breath to me.

Reagan explained to me that the illegal CIA covert activities I was forced to participate in were "justified" as they funded covert activities in Afghanistan and Nicaragua.

He explained, "America’s Freedom Train is spanning the globe and sex is but a sidetrack to the ultimate course of freedom. Our job of procuring and transporting arms is the most difficult part of all. But it can and must be done. How can a man with no arms fight? These operations are necessary as American people raise too much hell about violence already, and it is better they’re not informed of our supporting wars they cannot understand the significance of."


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I realize now that Reagan twisted reality to fit his personal perceptions rather than to adhere to Byrd’s philosophy of providing "excuses" for what he deemed "the order of things". In typical Reagan fashion, he did not perceive mind control as slavery, but as "an opportunity for those who otherwise would have nothing in life".

He claimed that multigenerational incestuously abused children like myself, or "previously impoverished baseball players from third world countries and slums, are provided an opportunity to ’be all they can be’ through making a ’contra-bution’ to society, our nation, and the world, by utilizing their talents to maximum potential." With this altitude, Reagan displayed pride in the sick role he played as The Wizard Of Oz, directing Project Monarch slaves like myself.

That night Senator Byrd acted in the capacity of a pimp and prostituted me to Reagan. Referring to me as though I were a machine, Reagan asked Byrd, "Does she run on chemicals?" meaning specific CIA drugs.

Byrd answered, "She takes it in spurts". I noticed that Reagan’s eyes lit up with perversion and understanding of Byrd’s statement, which meant that I "shared" whatever drugs were in his system through his urine. Reagan later told me he preferred sex slaves equipped for this task since he, as President, should not have to get up in the night to urinate, "Well," Reagan said, holding up his glass, "All I’ve had to fuel her with is alcohol. That’s not much of a jolt from a "whiz of a Wiz(ard)."

Byrd chuckled at Reagan’s Oz cryptic joke and removed his gold cocaine vial from the inner pocket of his suit. He and Reagan discretely turned their backs to the party while Byrd "spoon fed" Reagan the drug up his nose.

Before I left with Reagan, Byrd informed me that,

"Uncle Ronnie doesn’t sleep with his mommy (Nancy)," and that he preferred snuggling into his LL Bean, light blue flannel sheets in his nightshirt and ridiculous nightcap because "they’re warmer, softer, more comfortable, and don’t snore".

Later, in his bedroom, Reagan accessed my sexual programming, and I became "my part" as a prostitute to "Uncle Ronnie". Reagan did not move during sex. After all, that was "my duty". And my duty was to please him, whatever it took, and it took more time than anything.


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Reagan never hurt me (he always made sure someone else did that) and used this as a "bond" to the little child ("Kitten") personality he always accessed for sex. Reagan’s most apparent personality kink was his love for bestiality pornography. According to my handlers, his passion for pornography escalated its manufacture and distribution during his Administration. He wholeheartedly approved and encouraged the porn industry for funding covert activity.

Many commercial and instructional (private) pornography films I and others participated in, referred to as "Uncle Ronnie’s Bedtime Stories," were manufactured solely for his pleasure-oftentimes according to his instruction, using Freedom Train slaves. After my initial meeting with Reagan, I was used in numerous films that were produced predominantly at Youngstown Charm School and/or by his "Chief Pornographer" Michael Dante, specifically to satisfy his perversions. These included a wide range of cryptic themes, but were mostly bestiality. Reagan often watched the videos while I was prostituted to him, requiring me to re-enact the porn however possible.


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I first met Reagan’s Chief Pornographer Michael Dante, AKA Michael Viti, at an elite Nashville hotel where he was attending "charity" Golf Tournament festivities. Like CIA Operative Charlie Pride’s Pro-Am Golf Tournament in Albuquerque, New Mexico, this "charity" tournament provided a cover for the cocaine and white slavery operations that dominated the event. Houston and I often attended such "charity" events, as did Dante, but it was only after having met Reagan that Dante’s and my paths crossed as arranged.

Dante took me to his hotel room after our initial introduction. He snorted a few lines of coke, looked me over as though I were merchandise, and accessed my sex programming. He then arrogantly asked me if I knew who he was. He told me he lived in Beverly Hills, California and made movies. I thought he was referring to his box office flop, Winterhawk, until he said,

"Uncle Ronnie sent me. He wants me to make movies with you as your ’contra-bution.’ We’re gonna have a good time, then he’s gonna have a good time, and everybody’s happy. You’ll like that, won’t you Baby? Get dressed. We’re going back downstairs and make arrangements."

Dante telephoned me often, professing "our love" through command reinforcements and making arrangements to meet me in specific places for producing Uncle Ronnie’s Bedtime Stories and commercial porn. These locations included, among others, Tennessee, Florida, the Caribbean, and California. He often talked of owning me in the future, painting a picture of what life would be like living with him. His attitude toward women was atypical of slave owners and handlers, and he often quoted scripture to justify his dominance.

"No arguments," "speak only when spoken to," "take a good beating now and then just to keep you in line," "see to all my comforts and housework," and "be on call 24 hours a day when I need a good whore".

He gave me a slave bracelet—a trademark of his porn—and said, "A woman needs a chain. It’s a public reminder of total commitment and devotion. A reminder of the chain-of-command. A woman is tied to her man. No man should be tied to a woman."

Dante’s Connecticut Italian roots are in the Mafia, and it was a well-established fact that organized crime and government had a close working relationship where criminal covert activities were concerned, I met many of Dante’s associates, and we already shared a few common contacts who were conduits between the Mafia and CIA. These included Congressman Guy VanderJagt, former President Gerald Ford, then Governor of Pennsylvania Dick Thornburgh, Congressman Jim Traficant, Congressman Gary Ackerman, and Ronald Reagan.

Dante related to me,

"When Reagan was Governor (of California), we went to Dodger (baseball) games together and sat in the Press Box. I got to know him real well and we got along. So, he and Tommy (LaSorda, Los Angeles Dodgers manager and their mutual friend) and I would continue partying after the game. I brought him a few girls (slaves) and we did business. Really. Tommy LaSorda brought us together-you’ll like him. I’ll take you to meet him. We’ll go to games together all the time, every chance we get. You’ll love that, won’t you, Baby? You like a Press Box, Baby? Dick says you do."

I wasn’t surprised that Dick Thornburgh had talked about his previous, perverse sexual activity with me at a baseball game back East any more than I was surprised to learn that Dante knew Thornburgh through their mutual political and baseball ties.


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Thornburgh - Lasorda - Zerilla

Dick Thornburgh was Governor of Pennsylvania during my tenure as a Presidential Model mind-controlled slave. He used his influence to bring Houston into Pennsylvania state and county fairs year after year for the purposes of cocaine and pornography distribution, as well as for prostitution of me to him on a regular basis. Thornburgh was a heavy cocaine user, and was deeply involved in CIA covert activities-particularly Project Monarch. He was a firm believer in mind control, not only for sex training and government operations, but for sports. An avid baseball fan, Thornburgh had much to share with Reagan, Dante and Tommy LaSorda.

I had been giving Handwriting Analysis lectures on NCL’s Norway cruise ship (my cover for covert operation) in 1987, and Thornburgh and his friend Chicago Cubs Baseball Scout Jim Zerilla were in attendance. Afterward, Zerilla offered me a job with the Baseball Commission analyzing handwriting of their "million dollar babies" baseball players before they were signed up. Thornburgh explained that the job may not fit into my schedule. Nevertheless, we met on several occasions during the course of the cruise, always for sex, but business was discussed as well.

My programmed mind contained a "baseball computer" that was created for Reagan, and used by many including Thornburgh, LaSorda, Dante", and Zerilla. It was packed with the binds of statistics in which they were interested; the codes, keys, triggers and hand signals of certain mind-controlled baseball players. Zerilla and Thomburgh were cruising en route to the Dominican Republic to the CIA baseball mind-control farm to scout out new slaves. They talked excitedly about the prospect of winning large sums of money through gambling on rigged games. I had been aware for years that many pro players, particularly LaSorda’s Dodgers, were mind-controlled and triggered to win or lose according to their owners’ bets and favors. The Dodgers, Reagan’s "favorite American pastime" ball team continuously won, including the World Series during his Administration. The Mafia was in on the bet rigging, and information was passed to certain ones through Thornburgh and others as gleaned from my "baseball computer" programming.


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To this day I am not certain who instigated the plastic surgery to which I was forcibly subjected, but soon after meeting Reagan and Dante I was scheduled for breast implants. Perhaps it was done for pornography. Perhaps it was Reagan’s preference. I tend to believe it was a combination of the two and ordered since my breasts were no longer lactating. In the first commercial porn film Reagan had directed Dante to produce in St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands my breasts were still tender and swollen from silicone implant surgery.

My appearance was not the only "make over" I endured after meeting Reagan. Aquino and I were called to Washington, D.C. to revise my base core programming to override Senator Byrd’s control for security reasons. Since Reagan had been shot, he took extra precautions to ensure his safety which included directing Aquino as to how he wanted me programmed.

Much to Aquino’s dismay and embarrassment, Reagan admired the occult role that this Army Lt. Colonel played for mind-control traumatization purposes, as it fit in with the public promotion of religion Reagan had launched. Reagan claimed to believe that the masses were easiest to manipulate through their religion, as were mind-controlled slaves like myself.

While Reagan had Aquino in D.C., he demanded that he wear his black ritual robes to a White House party to reinforce the controlling superstitions of a few South/Central American diplomats. Aquino appeared foolish in the eyes of his peers. They knew Aquino’s image was only a guise for Psychological Warfare, but his appearance at the White House in costume made Aquino look like he believed his own facade.

[Bluegreen]

Aquino got even with Reagan. Minutes before I was prostituted to Reagan that evening, Aquino ordered me into a closed side room where he very quickly had intercourse with me. When he finished ejaculating, he slapped me on the behind and disrespectfully said, "Take that to the Chief."


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Earlier that day, Reagan instructed Aquino how to program me in keeping with "spin" programming depicted in the "How to" videos. "Program it," Reagan said, referring to me as though I were an object, "under number one. I like the number one. It’s the first, the best, and it promotes confidence—like ’I’ve won’," I observed Aquino giving him the intellectually disgusted look here served for anyone with the fortitude to make a suggestion to him, but tempered his reaction by giving some thought to the request.
 
Since the "How to" videos showed the 6th revolution to "ignite the heat of hell" for sex, no one would suspect I had sex programming under the first revolution. It would take some modification of my initial programming, but Aquino was sold on the idea. By programming me according to Reagan’s instruction, Aquino would be able to provide added protection for Reagan whereby any program I was under at the time would immediately become replaced by Reagan’s number one as quickly as I saw him. This effective safety measure infuriated Byrd the first time he saw me instantaneously switch out of his control in Reagan’s presence.

Additionally, Reagan discussed how Aquino could use me on various military and government installations to provide "Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations" of the "latest advancements in training" by displaying the diversity of my "Presidential Model" programming. Reagan said the Hands On Demonstrations could "educate our boys in the military to the wonders of the mind-control phenomena."
 
"Hands On" meant my sex programming would be used to "peak their interests and lock (bond) them in." After all, "entertaining the troops is a long time American tradition." Aquino did the programming, and Reagan began making arrangements for the demonstrations—which brought me back around to Dick Cheney. Cheney would be acting in the capacity of my "Commander" for the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations and other covert operations from then on.


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[Bluegreen]

"COMMANDER" DICK CHENEY’S "HANDS-ON MIND-CONTROL DEMONSTRATIONS"

CHAPTER 10


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Please note: In order to maintain the integrity of documenting my experiences using precise and photographic detail, I have recorded events and quotes as they occurred in reality. Please excuse any offensive and foul language, but this is the way Cheney presented himself, I was attending another White House cocktail party where, as usual, I was taken aside for a meeting and escorted to a large office.
 
There, Reagan and Cheney were having their "before cocktail party" cognacs, and Reagan’s cheeks were already flushed. He was in a hurry and quickly explained the purpose of the meeting,

"You’re the kind of girl who could hold a man in line. (He was cryptically referring to the lines of military personnel I was forced to have sex with.) That’s why I’ve selected you to tour a few Air Force Bases with the Colonel (Aquino) and demonstrate for our boys in the service what a Presidential Model is trained for, a kind of ’hands on’ demonstration. But you’ll have to audition for the role."

Reagan drained his glass and gestured toward Cheney as he strode for the door, adding, "Do what he says. He’s your commander."

It had been eight years since I had been hunted and brutalized by Cheney in Wyoming, and apparently he wanted to see how my programming had progressed before agreeing to use me in Reagan’s "Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations". He grabbed me roughly by the hair and slung me onto a black leather chair, tipping my head backwards over the high studded arm.
 
"Audition here," he snarled. Since I last saw him, I had undergone Wizard Of Oz Tin Man programming, which he accessed to accommodate his large, thick penis. He placed his hands on my jaw while he said, "Soon we’ll have you purring like a wet l oiled machine. All of your moving parts are pivotal and gliding with ease. Melt into my hands. I’ll hold your jaw to keep it from slipping while you slip through a window in lime." He then jerked my jaw out of joint, and roughly gratified himself in my throat.

As he lit his cigarette, I slowly regained focus enough to realize I was in pain. The back of my head hurt from being thrust into the studs on the chair, and I slowly lifted my head. My owner, Senator Byrd, had just walked in and realized Cheney had already completed the "audition". Referring to compartmentalizing my memory via stun gun high voltage, Byrd asked, "Did you fry her?"

Cheney, ’cocksure’ of himself as always, answered. "She can’t have ****ed all of Washington" (indicating that no one would believe me anyway, even if I did reach this point and talk). Cheney put out his cigarette and said as he went out the door, "She’ll work. Tell Ronnie she’ll work."

When Byrd saw that my lips were bleeding, he called Cheney a "son of a bitch" under his breath, as this damage would prevent my fulfilling other assignments that were planned for me. Byrd touched his finger to my swollen lips and tasted the blood (and Cheney) several times. Then he slapped me hard across the face, which re-aligned my jaw but caused more blood to flow down my chin. He took a box of tissues from the desk and threw it at me, the corner hitting me in the forehead. "Wipe yourself up. You’re just getting started. I’ll see to it you get what you’ve got coming to you."

Fortunately for me, Byrd had cause to return to the formal cocktail party and did not have time to brutalize me further. My face was battered, mouth torn, and my throat felt torn and stretched. I had difficulty swallowing for some time, and could not speak. I certainly was in no condition to return to the cocktail party, and was escorted out by agents/guards.

Before I could leave Washington, Byrd made good on his threat and arranged for me to meet with Cheney in a blue bedroom in a part of the Whitehouse so remote that "no one could hear my screams and moans". But Cheney implemented Oz theme "Silence" conditioning anyway as he proceeded to brutally sexually assault me.

"Byrd tells me you need a good whipping. But I’m not certain which instrument you prefer, so I brought them all."


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Cheney had a riding crop, a whip, and a cat-o-nine-tails laid out on the bed. He beat me quick and hard as though he were releasing his tensions rather than savoring my pain like Byrd did. I regained consciousness when Cheney slid a pillow under my neck, steered me by the hair, and bent my head back. Survival instinct kicked in when he positioned himself above my head, I hoped to satisfy him before he became deadly brutal again. But he quickly pulled out his liquid cocaine sprayer, sprayed my throat, then proceeded to get rough.
 
At one point he yanked my head aside and asked, "Was that a tooth?" and grinned. It was imperative that I kept my teeth off him because, according to Aquino’s programming instruction, I was subject to death if a tooth was ever felt by anyone. Cheney knew this was my programming and manipulated me with it often. I resumed "satisfying him as though my life depended upon it, because, of course, it did."
 
This is another Aquino programming line Cheney knew and used. When he was gratified, he flopped over and slept. I had been instructed to leave immediately because Cheney absolutely did not want me near him when he slept (some insiders say he is paranoid), and I began dressing. I was escorted out.

In preparation for ’’running bases" for Reagan’s Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations, I underwent a great deal of programming by both Aquino and Cheney. Cheney laid the ground rules while Aquino carried out our programming derail and performed the demonstration with me on various military and NASA installations.

Reagan wanted the demonstrations to include all programming depicted in the "How to" films, additional programming instilled since the videos were made, delivery of drugs when applicable, and sex according to Aquino’s instruction with whomever/however many were present at the lecture. Cheney’s personal "touch" to the demonstrations was to have me programmed to vaginally internally electric prod myself with a high voltage cylindrical cattle prod-truly an example of total mind control.

I was routinely escorted arm-in-arm "Oz style" by two agents to Cheney’s downstairs office in the Pentagon. Sometimes Byrd took me in. Other times Cheney walked me through the building, particularly if we were going to his "Bunkhouse" personal quarters. Cheney’s office was equipped with black leather furniture, a huge messy brown desk, massive book shelves, and an hourglass that he always used in keeping with Oz programming, to assure me that my life was on the line under his command.


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As a programmed MPD, I had no concept of time. The hour glass was a visible way for me to see "my time running out" and actually grasp the concept.

The first time I reported in, Cheney shuffled through the clutter on his desk, picked up a paper and began reading:

"Number one. I am NOT your friend, and I don’t want to see you unless I order you to report in. Number two. Follow the Colonel’s (Aquino) orders, as it is the chain of command. What he orders you to do, is a command from me, follow it to the letter, as though your life depends upon it, because (he looked up and grinned wickedly) of course, it does."

His cold eyes bore into mine as he walked around to the front of his desk, "Any questions?"

I knew he "was NOT my friend," but he already "saw me" sexually on other occasions. I was perplexed and hesitated. Even though I remained silent, Cheney sensed my hesitation and became enraged. He got up in my face, poked my breast bone with his finger and roared,

"Don’t even THINK to question anything I say! There is no question as to what I do, what I think, or what I say, because I am absolutely above questions-especially YOURS!! Your orders are clear. Now get out of here! I have work to do!"

Throughout the next three years, U.S. Army Lt. Colonel Aquino used me in the Hands On Demonstrations on numerous Army, Navy, Air Force, and NASA installations across the U.S. according to Reagan’s plan and Cheney’s orders. The Top Brass privy to the demonstrations ranged from three at a time to roughly twenty. In closing, Aquino always "persuaded" them to line up while I was forced to perform sexually on command with each one.
 
The larger groups were physically painful, while the smaller groups often involved unapproved variance from the routine, such as revealing Reagan’s bestiality perversions. The wide array of "switching" my personalities that Aquino incorporated into the demonstrations, and the vast amount of high voltage and torture to which I was subjected, left me exhausted and physically devastated for days after each one of Reagan’s Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations.

[Bluegreen]

"POPPA" PHILIP HABIB

Chapter 11

My (CIA operative) handler, Alex Houston was scheduled to perform with country music entertainer Loretta Lynn at the Playboy Club in Atlantic City, New Jersey in the spring of 1985, and he admittedly did not want me there for the performance. He explained that after his show, he intended to "dress up like a carrot as lunch for the Bunnies" and I would only be in his way.


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Philip Habib and Ronald Reagan


But I had White House business to attend with a different land of "rabbit". Reagan had arranged for me to meet with his personal attaché, Philip Habib (now deceased), who always played the cryptic rote of the Alice In Wonderland White Rabbit to mind-controlled slaves. Houston had no choice but to take me along once the orders came down.

CIA operative Ken Riley, the Neo-Nazi pedophile who functioned in the capacity of Loretta Lynn’s road manager and Project Monarch Mind-Control handler, was Alex Houston’s closest friend. Riley often made arrangements through Loretta’s and Houston’s shared talent agent, Reggie McLaughlin, for all of us to travel together—particularly when it involved government covert operations such as this Playboy Club gig did. Loretta’s singing career and political ties into CIA covert operations have always been synonymous. Riley escorted her in and out of the White House on numerous occasions during the Reagan Administration.

By natural attrition, this put Riley in a secondary role as a "backup" handler for me as he often returned from D.C. with orders for and/or concerning me. Houston and Riley shared much: CIA covert operations, country music interests, Neo-Nazi and U.S. Government mind control, Project Monarch methodologies, slave running, pornography, cocaine, and pedophile activities. Kelly and Riley’s young daughter were often filmed pornographically together, and endured the sexual assaults of Houston and Riley together on numerous occasions.

This trip to Atlantic City provided me an opportunity to talk with Loretta while her husband, Mooney, Riley and Houston met for business. Loretta and I had so much in common that our time together had been restricted from the time we met in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1981 and discussed our victimizations.


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They don't look too happy


While alone in Loretta’s dressing room at the Playboy Club, we discussed a wide range of topics from motherhood to the White House. We talked about Reagan in terms of his role as The Wizard Of Oz, but mostly we recited the general praises we were trained to say. We talked about Reagan’s "favorite" music by Air Supply, which he had supplied to us both via Riley.

Air Supply’s cryptic NASA/Project Monarch theme recordings became "life and breath" to us both according to Reagan’s intention, which locked in our programmed devotion for him. We discussed the recent Inauguration party Loretta had attended at the White House. (I was aware she had entertained there as Houston relayed information to Riley pertaining to his recent trip to Panama to meet with Panamanian Dictator and CIA operative Manuel Noriega in order that Riley deliver the information to Reagan during the Inauguration party.)


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Loretta and I switched personalities spontaneously as we inadvertently triggered each other with the shared cryptic language to which we were accustomed. We discussed forbidden subjects including Noriega and Byrd until Riley and Houston caught us and separated us as though we were a couple of naughty kids. I learned more than I was supposed to about Loretta while in Atlantic City, but was never permitted another opportunity to speak with her so freely.

This trip to Atlantic City was multi-purpose, which was not unusual for government operations in which I was forced to participate. I had a major cocaine transaction involving Noriega to attend at the airport; a message to deliver to Philip Habib pertaining to the Contras, and another programmed in by Habib in answer to Reagan; country music "entertainment" aspects; and prostitution to Habib according to Reagan’s instruction.

As the sun was setting over Atlantic City, Houston activated the Project Monarch Oz programming that was used for high level covert operations, and had me dress accordingly. I wore real and faux diamonds to signify my "Presidential Model" business role, rubies to signify my Oz programmed prostitution personality, and emeralds to signify my Oz programmed drug business.

This physically indicated to my contact(s) which mode of operation I was under at the rime. Rarely did I wear all three indicators at once, but they certainly applied in this operation with Habib. Houston led me down the waterfront boardwalk toward the hotel casino where I was to meet Habib, walking like the Oz Scarecrow and singing, "Follow the Yellow Brick Road".

Houston led me up the elaborate escalators of the hotel to a high stakes gambling area where Habib was playing cards. The guard at the door did not let Houston through, and I was sent to Habib’s table on my own. When I approached, Habib leaned back in his chair to hear while I quietly recited in Oz cryptic, "I’ve come such a long, long way to see you, Uncle Ronnie sent you something."

"What would that be?" he asked loudly as he leered at me and chuckled. I could not respond because I was under heavy program. He handed me his room key and pulled me close as he hypnotically whispered, "Use the key. Put it in the lock. Turn. Open the door, and step through a window in time." The other gamblers at Habib’s table were getting impatient, and I quickly exited the gambling room.

When I arrived in Habib’s room, two of his bodyguards accessed my programming. "Chiefly speaking," I began reciting Reagan’s message. Arrangements were made for the two guards to pick up a fair sized shipment of cocaine the next morning that was arriving on a small military "brass" airplane. Houston and I would then board the plane and fly to D.C. where I would complete my part of this operation.

When Habib arrived, he ushered me into the bedroom part of the suite and began disrobing, down to his boxer shorts and gartered socks. Referring to a recent Dante porn film I was used in, he said, "I liked your ruffled tennis panties..." then threw me a pink teddy and ruffled panties resembling the tennis outfit commanding, "Put it on." I complied. He threw me a stuffed toy cat on the pillows and explained, "That kitten is going to keep this Kitten (pointing tome) from screaming. We’re going to play Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." (S&M games)


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Habib physically resembled the violent Alice In Wonderland characters, especially in his boxer shorts. The hysterical controlled laughter that rose in my throat would only have intensified his abuse and was (fortunately) choked back by terror as he begun attaching heavy rope ties to the four posters of the bed. On command, I crawled onto the bed and lay on my stomach while he tied me so tightly I was stretched. He shoved the stuffed cat under my mouth, then entered me roughly from behind and said, "Come to Poppa".

The intense pain as he brutally sodomized me was outweighed by a high voltage stun gun as he jolted me repeatedly to create the perverse jerking movements and rectal muscle constrictions he desired. I soon passed out from the blinding high voltage of his stun gun. It was nearly 3:00 AM when I stumbled out the door with the stuffed cat in my hands, nauseated, disoriented, and in extreme pain. The cool, ocean breeze helped revive me as Houston marched me back to the Playboy Club.

Houston knew I had been programmed with a message for Reagan that I would deliver the next morning in D.C. As usual, he began to access it immediately. His quick timing somehow permitted him to penetrate the electricity and programmed codes (designed to keep the information repressed) and accessed the information. Houston kept a written record of any messages he was able to access (along with photos and ledgers) for his personal profit and future blackmailing purposes, should he need to protect himself.

In this case, I surmise from Houston’s Panama activities, conversations I overheard between him and Riley, and my recollection of the messages he accessed, that his purpose in extracting this information was for his personal profit in backdoor dealings with Noriega. I understood it was these kinds of dealings that eventually contributed to Noriega’s downfall with the CIA.


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Manuel Noriega

Morning arrived before I was allowed to sleep, and I felt exhausted and "spacey" as I waited by the curb for Habib’s bodyguards to pick Houston and me up and take us to the airport, A small military airplane was parked in a restricted fenced in area as we arrived at the airport. The two bodyguards conducted their business and quickly loaded the trunk with the bundles of cocaine as planned. Houston and I boarded the airplane and flew to Washington, D.C. where I delivered Habib’s message to Reagan. The bank transaction numbers later checked out to be a Cayman Island account number.

Philip Habib was directly involved in various DIA/CIA Operations I was forced to participate in throughout the Reagan/Bush Administrations, Although Dick Cheney maintained his role as my Commander for these Operations, Habib directed my actions where International "Diplomatic Relations" were concerned, Cheney orchestrated events from behind his desk, whereas Habib was active in the field as Reagan’s attaché’.

The following Operations, documented in their entirety from my experience perspective only, most likely involve other aspects to which I am not privy. In typical DIA/CIA manner, scam "need to know’ information resulted in the "left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing." Nevertheless, the overall criminal purpose of Operation Carrier Pigeon and Operation Shell Game, documented herein, does not change.

[Matthew]

This is horrible, don't read this. Bump, it's probably the most important thing I've read in my life.

[Bluegreen]

OPERATION CARRIER PIGEON

Chapter 12


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The term "Pigeon" is one with which I have been familiar since the early 1980s when I first began delivering messages between my "owner" Senator Byrd and Puerto Rican drug lord and CIA operative, Jose Busto. Houston had simply explained to me then, as we fed the flock of pigeons roosting at the Old San Juan Cathedral, that Pigeons were used as messengers. The DIA’s U.S. Army Lt. Colonel Michael Aquino often activated my Pigeon programming during the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations.

Dick Cheney further defined the term "Pigeon" when I learned of Operation Carrier Pigeon in the mid ’80s. He said,

"You have been selected from the flock (of programmed slaves) for the Carrier Pigeon Operation for the purpose of carrying messages from point A to point B as ordered. Pigeons, once they fly the coop, find no freedom in flight, but carry out their task of delivering their message from point A to point B by the shortest possible route—a direct route. I will direct your route and you will deliver messages as ordered."

But no one defined my role as a Pigeon more eloquently that President Reagan during the course of Operation Carrier Pigeon.

The cryptic "pigeon language" utilized by all participants in the operation was intermixed with The Wizard Of Oz, Alice In Wonderland, and "Genie in the Bottle" cryptic programming themes. While Pigeon meant messenger, "Carrier Pigeon" referred to the U.S. Air Force aircraft that actually transported the arms and drugs. "Pigeon Droppings" included the sometimes multi-national dispersal of the arms and drugs after they reached their destination. "Pigeon Holing" meant covering up the criminal activity. These definitions, as I understood them then and understand them now, may well include deeper, more diverse meanings than I have perceived.

Habib’s favorite programming theme was Alice In Wonderland, Through The Looking Glass due to its international recognition and relation to the ultra- effective NASA mirror, time, and infinity space programs for instantly dissociating programmed participants. He habitually spoke in Alice In Wonderland cryptic language, and even used it for sex as was evidenced by his Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum brutal games of perversion. Due to Habib’s orchestration of Operation Carrier Pigeon, this CIA covert operation was littered with Wonderland mirror themes from beginning to end.


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My CIA handler, Alex Houston, had just returned from a brief solo trip "to Florida" with an elaborately wrapped box. "it’s from a friend of yours," he told me as he handed me the box.

"Let’s go into the bedroom so you can unwrap it and see it through the "Looking Glass’."

Cryptically triggered, I mechanically walked to the bedroom as ordered. I removed the silver metallic bow and wrappings from the box and found an expensive, elegant dress made of an unusual shimmery silver fabric. A sheet of plain white stationary written in Philip Habib’s recognizable shaded blue script lay on top of the dress. It read:

The heat you radiated when we last met
melted my mirror.
I had it made into a dress just for you,
cut to accentuate your figure so that when you melt into it,
You lose yourself into
the pool of liquid mirror.
Step into the Looking Glass
Sink deep within its pool
and straddle dimensions in time.
I’ll see you there...
along with my friends.

It was signed: "Passionately, Phil Habib," with his name written upside-down under a line as though it were a mirror reflection.

Houston knew there would be a note, and ordered "Let me see your note," snatching it from my hands. He gestured toward the dress. "Go ahead and try it on while I read this note. Now let’s see, what does it say? ’Come to Poppa’?"

I took the dress from the box. It did not feel like anything I’d ever felt before. It was cold like satin, but thin like silk. I started crying quietly, afraid that Habib would somehow show up if I had it on.

"Put it on and I ’ll zip you in," Houston said as he took another note from his wallet and read it as I undressed:

There’s a pair of magic shoes to wear with your dress,
Something in-lightening,
to transport you faster than the ol’ ruby slippers (Oz)
The shoes, like the dress, are made just for you,
and when you wear them you’ll be fit for a King,
I’ll send them for you at the appropriate lime.

Houston tucked the note back in his wallet, "See. You’re not going anywhere now. You’ll meet him at the White House when you have shoes to wear with it. Just slip it on."

I did. Houston accessed Habib’s Wonderland brutal sex programming for his own gratification. Afterwards I hung the dress in Kelly’s closet with my other trigger-significant clothes; out of sight, out of mind. Until the shoes arrived...

Habib "sent the shoes for me" soon afterward. They were shiny black with what appeared to be silver lightening bolts down the high heels and sides. In place of dinner that night, Houston gave me a "Wonderland Wafer" (MDHMA-XTC CIA designer drug "Ecstasy"). The wafer, like all those supplied by Habib, bore his trademark that read "Eat me".


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I began to prepare for the night out as instructed. Houston zipped me into the dress, and turned me to face the mirror. As I slipped into the shoes, Houston took another note from Habib out of his pocket and read:

Something in-lightening to tranceport you faster
than the ol’ ruby slippers.
Click your heels together (I obeyed) and be there in a snap.
Electrifying-with the rumble of thunder.
Boiling through time
So you won’t be late for a very important date.

Houston hit me with his stun gun and I passed out. He then drove me to the Nashville airport where I boarded a small plane to Washington, D.C.

I found myself at the White House with Byrd, attending another small cocktail party of about 20-30 people. After we spoke with Reagan, Byrd pointed me in the direction of Philip Habib and sent me over to him. My eyes were locked on Habib’s as he hypnotically said:

Melt into your melted mirror
for an electrifying ride.
Look deep into the black
of my melting mirror eyes,
See you reflecting me, reflecting you,
reflecting me--you-me--you-me
until we melt together and sink deep
into the other side.

Habib took me to a quieter spot in an adjoining room and held up another wonderland Wafer as he said in Alice In Wonderland cryptic, "Welcome to Wonderland, Kitten. This is a very important date. I haven’t time to explain. He gave me the wafer and continued, "Eat it, and I’ll take you through the door."

Habib took me by the hand and led me to the doorway of another room. It was a dining room of sorts where an informal array of guests was gathered. As soon as Habib appeared in the doorway, King Fahd of Saudi Arabia quickly excused himself from the table and approached. He was wearing a multicolored robe and headwear with a black-brown rope band. I was instantly repulsed by his "wicked" lecherous gaze, I stepped back into the other room in fear. Habib introduced him. "This is one of ’my friends’ I mentioned in my letter."


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I robotically responded, "It’s a pleasure to meet you" and extended my hand as taught in Charm School. Fahd bent over to kiss my hand. As he did, his evil black eyes bore into mine as he softly said, "Your beauty warms my embers. See them glowing deep within the darkness of my eyes-igniting into flame-black flame." He laughed wickedly at the effect of his use of NASA hypnotic conditioning.

Habib slapped him on the shoulder as though they knew each other well and there were no formalities between them and asked, "Am I right? Is that fit for a King?"’

The three of us went into another room that appeared to be a guest bedroom that Habib was occupying. He closed the door and told me,

"Diplomatic relations are very important. You know the old saying ’when in Rome do as Romans do’. Well, he’s a King. Get on your knees. His wish is your command. Satisfy his deepest wishes. It’s your turn for a magic carpet ride, so turn your Genie free."

Fahd was sitting in a chair by a coffee table. As I knelt on the carpel in front off him, his piercing black eyes seemed to stab into my brain like swords. I could not turn away. He stroked my neck with his index finger, activating oral sex programming. "I have heard about you and am in-tent on having you."
 
Somehow he found the slit in his robes and parted it as he continued, "Come into my tent- A feast has been spread for you." He spread his legs and exposed his penis—one of the nastiest I had ever seen—like a black night crawler worm that smelled and tasted strongly of spice. Habib watched as I carried out my orders, much to the pleasure of Fahd,

Then Habib went to the chest of drawers and began pulling out his electric prod and bondage equipment as he explained.

"Now let me introduce you to my other ’friend’. I need to bottle up a message with your Genie and send it out to sea. You know what to do. Begin undressing now."
I did as I was told and lay on my stomach on the bed while Habib sodomized me. He used his electric prod equipment and programmed me with a message to deliver to General Manuel Noriega while on an upcoming NCL cruise.

I was at sea on board an NCL cruise ship bound for their private island in the Bahamas, Stirrup Cay, which was to be my rendezvous point with Noriega, "Bottled up" in my mind through the recent ’Genie in the Bottle’ programming, was a cryptic message from King Fahd to Noriega. It was a moonless night whereby the Caribbean waters appeared as black as the night. I could not distinguish the sky from the sea in accordance with NASA hypnotic conditioning.
 
I gazed, totally entranced, from the rear of the cruise ship. Houston used the opportunity to hypnotically enhance Habib’s previous programming, while traumatizing me with the threat of being thrown overboard. The thought of "treacling water in the inky blackness while the lights of the ship fade further-and further--away-until all is black and I sink-to the depths of the sea" did not seem so horrible in tight of the fact that I was to be the bearer of bad news to Noriega in the morning.

Upon arrival to NCL’s Stirrup Cay, Houston and I began our usual walking trek to the farthest end of the island where the CIA operations radio station and equipment were located. In a hidden cove on the island’s back side was a smaller island of sufficient size to conceal Noriega’s personal yacht, anchored behind it.


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As Houston and I made our way along the cove’s beach, we came upon an old wooden boat half buried in the sand and a man sitting beside it. Because I was in a different personality, I did not recognize the man as my contact who ran the Stirrup Cay control lower for drug trafficking and covert activity. I asked him how he got there.
 
He began his charade, which, due to the depths of my trance, I believed in its literal text, while Houston heard quite a different story:

"I shipwrecked." John (the name I called him) pointed to the boat half buried in the sand, "That’s all that is left of my boat."

I asked, "Why haven’t you been rescued?"

He cryptically replied, "I sent a message in a bottle and I expect a response real soon. Good thing I had these coconuts (he was carving one) and all that ’sugar’ in the hull to sustain me."

Houston laughed, immediately realizing that ’sugar’ meant cocaine and said, surprised, "In the hull?" as he bent down to look inside the wreck. I looked, too. There was more white cocaine and (dark) cocaine paste than I could mule (carry) in one walking haul, even with both of my tote bags full. But I could not comprehend reality in the midst of this charade, and therefore commented that he was fortunate that both the "white and brown sugar" had made it through the wreck.

Houston said, "So, they cast you away, huh?"

My contact laughed and sniffed, "Yeah, cast me away with all that ’sugar’—that’s nothing to sniff at." He looked up as Houston informed him a speedboat was approaching, I looked out across the cove beyond the little island and finally noticed Noriega’s yacht. A "black mirror" finish speed boat, which matched the upper smoke glass windows of Noriega’s yacht, was approaching. John told me, "Probably has something to do with that message I sent. Help me wave him in." I did.
 
He handed me a coconut and, using it as a scramble and excuse for me to join him on Noriega’s yacht, persuaded me to board the speed boat with him. Houston stayed behind to guard the cocaine that had obviously already been delivered from Noriega’s yacht.

When we pulled up to the rear of the yacht, I was helped on board by Noriega’s armed guards. I noticed there did not seem to be any big parties going on as was customary, and Noriega seemed unusually abrupt and businesslike. He was not drunk this time. Upon command from John, I delivered Fahd’s message:

"I am under command to deliver a message from King Fahd. The Caribbean is becoming volatile. Trouble in Jamaica, Trouble in Cuba, Even trouble in Panama. Dominican Republic must be launching point for missiles and artillery that are being channeled though Cuba. Concluding arms deal, Carrier Pigeon must be detained until all transactions are cleared. Banco de Panama to receive Contra Aid after all steps leading to me have been swept away by the shifting sands (of Lime), and all pigeon droppings pigeon holed. Our business is concluded. Let us part on friendly terms"

My personal perceptions of history as it happened in reality remains somewhat distorted, as I had no access to "news" outside of my mind-controlled environment. In order to keep my memory retrieval free of contamination, I completed the deprogramming process before "educating" myself through books And news. I have since learned that what was reported as news was often distorted propaganda, and many events were never reported at all.
 
Therefore, I do not know of the "troubles in Jamaica and Cuba" to which King Fahd referred. I was aware, however, that due to outside scrutiny, Houston had recently met with Jamaican officials in Kingston pertaining to ceasing the long standing criminal covert operations. As for Cuba, I only knew that I was no longer meeting with my Cuban contact. In Panama, I knew Noriega himself was the object of controversy.

The "arms deal" was the final stage of Operation Carrier Pigeon where the planes were to wait in Saudi Arabia until all bank transactions were cleared and the load was ready for disbursement. Saudi Arabian King Fahd would then fund the Contras via Noriega for Reagan after all evidences had been properly covered up—just as he had done in Afghanistan.

After the shipment, there would be no further deals through Noriega involving Fahd, because Noriega could no longer be trusted. Besides, Fahd had increased diplomatic relations with Mexico for covert operations, and Iran-Contra was just beginning to heat up.

Noriega did not seem to be upset by the news of losing Saudi Arabian business, although he was somber and took some time to respond. His translator was working over some complex computer equipment after I delivered the message. I left Noriega’s yacht with John and a brief message for Dick Cheney at the Pentagon.

Back on Stirrup Cay, Houston was anxiously waiting to begin transporting the cocaine back to the party area of the island. There, NCL workers were cleaning up from the cruise ship’s beach party cookout, which was NCL’s excuse to stop the ship. After I muled the first heavy load of cocaine in my tote sacks, Houston approached one worker familiar with the drug operation and informed him we had a heavier load than usual and needed to make another trip.
 
The worker directed us to a huge empty food container used for transporting cook out supplies from the ship, and gave us the key. We locked the first load in the container, and I took my empty tote sacks, plus another straw bag back. for another haul. With the second load, Houston even carried some cocaine: himself. We had to run quite a distance through the island woods in an attempt to make it back to the ship’s shuttle before scheduled departure time. When we arrived, the beach was nearly deserted, as all the passengers had been taken back to the ship. All that remained was the food container and the NCL worker who was hurrying us onto the shuttle and on board the ship, which was waiting for us.

When the cruise ship docked at the Port of Miami, Puerto Rican drug lord and CIA operative Jose Busto was acting as a U.S. Immigrations officer (commissioned by the Drug Enforcement Agency through the CIA), which he often did for NCL. Busto helped us clear ship undetected with the large load of cocaine. The drugs were packed into suitcases, then loaded into Houston’s specially made motor home which was parked in NCL’s guarded, restricted parking lot.


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Most of the cocaine was dropped off as usual at Warner Robins Air Force Base in Macon, Georgia, to be distributed to destinations unknown to me. The money generated by the sale of cocaine was supposedly used to fund a major arms shipment into Saudi Arabia. These weapons were reportedly distributed among several neighboring countries. The profits were then relayed into Reagan’s Contra Cause.

A large quantity of cocaine was retained by Houston for his own use and delivery for personal profit through his country music industry contacts. Some of the cocaine would be delivered by me to Saudi Arabian Ambassador, Prince Bandar Bin Sultan, Fahd’s own "Homing Pigeon".

I carried a message from Warner Robins Air Force Base in addition to the message from Noriega agreeing to Fahd’s terms back to Dick Cheney at the Pentagon. Cheney then prepared me for the final phase of the operation. This was a meeting with Prince Bandar (who Cheney, Houston, and others referred to as Sultan) in Nashville, Tennessee where he often visited corrupt friends.
 
There, I would relay a message of agreement to Fahd’s terms between Noriega and the U.S., as well as confirm all Air Force flights (Carrier Pigeons) and bank transactions. In turn, Fahd’s "Homing Pigeon" would relay the messages to Fahd so that the seemingly long running drugs for arms deals would draw to a successful conclusion.

Dick Cheney cautioned me, "Sultan will be in Nashville having dinner with friends at the Stockyard." (The Stockyard was a popular country music dinner club known for its CIA criminal covert activity involvement.) Cheney glanced at the list on his desk and continued,

"Among others, those friends would be (Mayor) Fulton and (Sheriff) Thomas. They are considered a threat to the operation. They’re not discrete. Thomas in particular is not to be trusted--he’s an ass and too crooked. So, Sultan must leave the table before the message is delivered. Any questions? Good."

I certainly had no questions this time. I did not need him to caution me about Nashville’s Mayor Richard Fulton whom Houston had prostituted me to, and Sheriff Fate Thomas. I had known the pair for years, had been cautioned about them before, and had no respect for them at all. Together Thomas and Fulton had indiscreetly perpetuated the total corruption that had permeated Nashville’s $2.8 billion country music industry, which ran the city of Nashville.

They ran the city’s business from a bar - the Stockyard - while they drank and openly used cocaine. If I had had the capacity to wonder, I would have wondered what a "Homing Pigeon" so critical to the conclusion of this international criminal covert operation was doing with such low level sleaze. As it was, I could only sense relief at not having to deal with them, too.


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The late Nashville mayor Richard Fulton & friends ... as for Fate's fate ...

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Prince Bandar Bin Sultan’s reputation for sex and drugs was widely known in Nashville. But much of my information pertaining to his activities came from one of my closest Project Monarch friends. She is an entertainer’s daughter who was prostituted regularly to Sultan when he was in town, which was often.

When Cheney was through with me, Byrd escorted me to the White House to see Reagan, who also cautioned me about the Prince. Reagan was aware of Habib’s having activated me sexually with King Fahd, and made it clear that my scheduled rendezvous with Prince Bandar would not include the usual sex.

Reagan joked in Byrd’s presence,

"Birds (Byrds) may well be eaten by a Kitten. (Reagan’s pet name for me), but not Homing Pigeons. Homing Pigeons taste foul."
 
Byrd laughed. Reagan continued, "Homing Pigeons have one purpose. Passing messages. Throughout history world leaders have passed messages to and from each other by way of pigeons. Messages that have set the course of events that have altered the course of history.
 
Homing Pigeons are loyal and dedicated to their task, flying over seas, yet never pausing long enough to even quench their thirst-giving no thought to their own needs. When a pigeon is released, he takes a direct course to his destination. Dedicated to delivering the very messages on which history was founded.
 
Why, even Noah relied on a pigeon to traverse the seas to bring back a message of hope. It is your duty to attach an added message to the Horming Pigeon-one of peace, from our homeland lo his: One from the President of the United States to King Fahd of Saudi Arabia, ... (Omitted due to international ramification.)"

Byrd was visibly inspired by the speech. I was literally saved by the bell from another boring, long winded recitation that Reagan had just inspired in Byrd when Cheney telephoned me back to his office. It was still morning and Cheney had appeared very busy, hurried, and irritable when I had seen him just a short time earlier. My heart was heavy in expectant anticipation of the physical and sexual brutality Cheney’s moods normally incited.
 
Yet I was relieved to escape the torturous "picture painting" competition that experience had taught me Byrd and Reagan were about to embark on. My heart lightened when my escort left me at Cheney’s office and I noticed his foul mood had changed dramatically.

"I understand you ordered me to report in, Sir." Cheney looked up from his desk where he was shuffling through papers and tying up loose ends before leaving his office.

"Sit down." he ordered, "I just got word that the Genie in the Bottle ’Cast-away’ Operation is complete and I intend to pop a cork or two of my own in celebration of its successful conclusion. I have time on my hands and want you to join me. The bunkhouse is being prepared..."

Cheney apparently thought of something, went to the door and told the guy who had escorted me, "Make sure there’s some Wonderland Wafers in the bunkhouse," He walked to his desk, picked up the phone and said, "I’m outta here" into it and slammed it down.
 
I followed Cheney out the door, and we turned to the right rather than the left outside his office and walked to his personal quarters referred to as the bunkhouse. It was decorated in Cheney’s western style in browns and tans, with leather furniture. There was no food (maybe some nuts stashed somewhere), but plenty of bottles of alcohol.

I was swollen and bleeding vaginally, the bottom of my shirt was soaked in blood, and my belly hurt deep inside when my escort finally came for me early the next morning. Staying around Cheney while he slept was as deadly a mistake as removing his clothes or questioning him - it was forbidden.
 
This time he broke his own rule, and did not even punish me for it when morning arrived. He had spent so many hours drinking alcohol and using his enormous penis as an assault weapon that he passed out shortly before my escort arrived. As I walked into the hall, I doubled over from pain. My escort turned to Cheney and remarked, "Christ, Cheney".

Cheney lifted his head and proudly slurred, "Now you know why they call it ’Dick’".

Back in Tennessee, my CIA-paid gynecologist, who knew I was under mind control, covered for my abusers as usual and wrote me a prescription for swelling and pain, I was still in pain and ill from my exposure to Dick Cheney and his high voltage torture and brutal sex when Houston drove me to Nashville’s Stockyard Nightclub for my rendezvous with the sex and drug-loving Prince Bandar Bin Sultan.


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A waitress led me to the Saudi Arabian Ambassador’s table where he was drinking with Mayor Fulton, Sheriff Thomas, and Metro Police Chief Joe Casey. I approached him and said,

"If you please, Sir (Oz), I am under command to deliver a message to you from the Pentagon. There is to be no horse play (sex games). We must get down to business."

There was laughter from everyone at the table. I continued.

"My message is brief and I only need a moment of your time away from your dinner."

The Prince’s face grew more serious and we left the table. He touched the waitress' arm and she pointed to a door across the hall that led to an empty room. We stood just inside the room, and I quickly delivered ray Pigeon cryptic message:

"The Carrier Pigeon (Air Force airplane) will take flight... and will keep its promise (the agreed load) while all transactions (both bank and distribution) are procured through the designated diplomatic channels (Habib.) Your bonus, one crystal, three cuts await you. The President of the United States gives his word to King Fahd: ..."

He told me his driver would meet me out from of the Stockyard and instructed me to put the cocaine in the back, I left the building to rejoin Houston at the car in order that the cocaine could be delivered. A white stretch limousine was pulled up in front of the Stockyard; Chief Casey’s assigned Metro Police Officers guarded the area, and the cocaine was transferred into the back seat of the Prince’s limo. Houston and I immediately left the area.
 
My part in Operation Carrier Pigeon was concluded.


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[sijohn]

A huge thank you for posting this , I have been aware of Cathy O Brien and her story for many years, but it had slipped my mind I am ashamed to say , please continue to post as I believe this is incredibly important. May all the people who are responsible for treating fellow human beings (if they are truly human beings) like this reap their just deserts.

[ClearWater]

I read this book shortly after it was initially released. Reading through the postings again now, I'm realizing that I'd forgotten just how chilling some of it really is.

I certainly don't/won't dwell on it because I feel that's counter-productive, but I'm absolutely grateful for the sharing of this info. There's definite value in having an awareness of the fact that this sort of thing goes on. It was an important piece of the puzzle in coming to the realization of what was and is really happening in the world.

Kudos to Cathy for sharing her story.

[Bluegreen]

Warning: Graphic

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[Bluegreen]

OPERATION SHELL GAME

Chapter 13

Sometime prior to the death of CIA Chief William Casey, I was in Washington, D.C. for a briefing on Operation Shell Game. Iran-Contra was politically explosive at this time, and U.S. Senator Alan Kooi Simpson (R. Wyoming) had a plan to set Panamanian General Manuel Noriega up to take the fall for cocaine aspects of the investigation. Noriega had become yet another source of embarrassment to the Reagan-Bush Administration.


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George Bush Sr and Alan Simpson


The need to convince him to be discrete about his involvement in U.S. criminal covert activities had reached alarming proportions. Noriega had been an intricate part of arming the Nicaraguan Contras for Reagan, as well as an international hub in the cocaine operations that funded the black budgets for ultra secret projects such as Project Monarch.

My CIA operative handler, Alex Houston’s shadowy back door drug dealings with Panama further exemplified the kind of "honor among thieves" rules that Noriega routinely and openly violated. My role, my "Contra-bution," was but a small part of the over all picture. Nevertheless, Operation Shell Game was one of the more significant and informative covert operations in which I had been forced lo participate.

My role began one cold, rainy day when Houston dropped me off at the Washington Monument where I was met by two agents, who triggered me to go with them by flashing their IDs. They escorted me to the large White House Office where I had first met Cheney to "audition" for the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations some years before. As usual, Cheney and Reagan were drinking, this time to excess for so early in the day. Reagan’s cheeks were flushed and his voice slurred as he greeted me, "Well, hello, Kitten. Dick and I were just discussing the plight of the Contras since this Ollie North thing broke out."


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Cheney’s alcoholic foul mood was immediately apparent. He was agitated as usual at Reagan’s informality in my presence. Apparently I had come in during a serious discussion about Iran-Contra as Reagan’s mood was more somber than I had ever seen it. He took a drink and looked out the window. "Americans believe in their country-baseball, hot dogs, and Ollie North."

Cheney snorted a laugh at what seemed to be an ongoing joke between them about "hot dogs and Ollie North". Reagan continued,

"And I believe in the Contra cause and all that we have accomplished. And I’m damn proud of it! It’s not ’Law and Order’. No, it’s Order and then Law. Order must come first because without it, law would be ineffective.

Sometimes we must rise above and beyond the law to establish that order (he glanced seriously at Cheney)—or a new (world) order. As President, that is my responsibility. Establish order through democracy by spreading democracy throughout the world. With order, there is peace. Right now in Nicaragua the people are crying out for democracy, for peace, and I cannot turn a deaf ear to them.

Not even in view of Ollie North’s troubles. True Americans know he is a hero. That’s why we must rise above the law to establish order by fulfilling the wishes, the hopes, the dreams of those brave men fighting for freedom by doing our part in spreading democracy."

Reagan was gesturing into the air, apparently lost in the poetry of his own ranting.

Cheney lost patience and jumped from his chair to sneer at me and poke his finger in my chest while he said, "Order is all that matters, and you’re going to follow mine."

Reagan turned back to us.

"I’m glad you brought that up, Kitten, you have a role in establishing this order. With the same patriotic passion that burned in your bosom for the freedom fighters of Afghanistan, you will carry out your orders for the Contras. Dick will define your role and provide you with all you need and all you need to know from the ol’ Wizard’s bag in the basement (Oz programming in Cheney’s Pentagon office). So, you run along now and do as he commands."

Senator Alan Simpson was in Cheney’s office when we arrived. Cheney flipped over the hour glass to let me know my life was on the line according to Oz programming. Cheney gestured to Simpson and began,

"Operation Shell Game is Simpson’s brain child, so he’s master of the game and he’s going to teach you the rules. The objective of the game is to see ’who’s left holding the goods".

Pointing to Simpson, he commanded, "Listen to ’im".

Simpson stood up and began cryptically talking.

"You are going on a ’Princes’ Cruise’ (Noriega’s Yacht). The Baby’s Ear Shell is your pass key. I will provide you with yours at the appropriate time."

He took the "shell" out of his wallet. It was approximately 1 1/2 inches long and was translucent pink, shaped and detailed exactly like a baby’s ear. Simpson noticed the relief cross my face as I realized it was not a real baby’s ear.

He smiled.


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"These are but empty shells of the life they once possessed. Like you are-empty and void of life. A shell. In one ear and out the other. I have your ear now LISTEN, If they hold the pass key, you listen. When you hold the pass key, you speak. I none ear and out the other-never again to be retrieved."

He returned the shell to his wallet and continued,

"Listen. Follow orders. The Colonel (Aquino) will be there and you will follow his orders and provide a demonstration Hands On style for the General (Noriega). It will be different, yet the same, so follow the Colonel’s orders closely."

Cheney roughly grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, got right in my face and said,

"Or, I’ll get her, my pretty, your little girl. Follow orders as though her life depends upon it because it does. Or the next baby’s ear will be taken from Kelly. So listen. When you see the baby’s ear, you will listen."

He spun my head in the direction of the hourglass as he released my hair. He was sneering and Simpson looked as though he thought Cheney overdid it. I was relieved it would not be my job to "soothe Cheney’s savage beast" sexually that day.

Cheney look me back to the White House office where we had started. He and Reagan shared another drink. Reagan patted my hair back in place where Cheney had pulled it, which made me feel safe somehow since I could not comprehend that he was behind my ordeal with Cheney.

Reagan switched my personality to where I no longer regarded him as "Chief," but instead as "Uncle Ronnie". He did this by reaching into his Jelly Belly jar and giving me one. Certain colors and flavors triggered certain programmed responses. Uncle Ronnie must have had other "Kittens" conditioned to the military green watermelon ones because he kept an excess amount of these in his numerous jars.

Cheney said, "How in the hell you drink cognac and eat those goddamn jellybeans is beyond me. Reagan responded, "Well, Dick, you don’t have to have a Jelly Belly if you don’t want to. I was just giving one to Kitten, here."

"Damn right I don’t have to have a Jelly Belly, but you’re going to have a jelly belly if you keep that **** up." Cheney finished his drink.

Reagan chuckled, "Now, you know I watch my figure.."

"Figure this," Cheney interrupted. "What are you going to do with the Contras?"

Cheney slammed down his drink and headed for the door.

"Exactly what I’ve been doing." Reagan turned to me, "C’mon, Kitten, Let’s take a walk, I need my evening constitutional"

Reagan was in no mood for sex, and it was a relief to be away from Cheney. He took me outside for a walk in his "Secret Garden," where he said he goes to "think and solve the world’s problems". We walked down a cement path he referred to as a "Yellow Brick Road". After sitting quietly on a cement bench for awhile, he said,
"If you follow the Yellow Brick Road, it leads right to the Wizard’s lair - the Oval Office, How would you like to see where Uncle Ronnie really solves the world’s problems?"

I felt like a little girl with her daddy going to see where he works with no real concept of the experience. The guard at the Oval Office door ensured I was returned to my escorts when Reagan was through "sneaking me in" to his office. I was then taken back to Washington Monument where Houston was waiting in the car as though I had never been gone at all.

Operation Shell Game brought me back in touch with former President Gerald Ford early one misty fall morning. Ford’s continued relationships with my abusers had given me cause to remain in touch with him throughout the years; particularly since he and my father were still jointly active in the Michigan organized crime drugs and pornography operation that had launched me into Project Monarch so many years before.


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Ford was about to embark on a game of golf with my father on the otherwise "Closed for the Season" golf course next to my father’s expensive house in affluent Grand Haven, Michigan. My brother, Mike, was with my father and me as we rendezvoused at the Club House with Ford and the Secret Service personnel assigned to him.

Ford told my father he would "catch up with him and Mike at the third hole" and to "leave us to our business". I was maintained in "Silence" until Ford and I were out of range of the Secret Servicemen, and I recited a message from Reagan instilled prior to the Shell Game,

"If you please, Sir," I began in Oz cryptic, "I have a message for you from Uncle Ronnie. It’s a ’humming telegram’ (oral sex game) to see if you agree that our National Anthem should be changed to America the Beautiful," (Reagan was actually serious about changing our National Anthem.)

Ford responded, "We may have to see about that later. First, we’ve got some other ’holes’ to attend before the sun gets up any higher." As he teed up his golf ball I asked, "Do you still golf a lot now that you’re no longer President?"

He said very seriously, "I golfed a lot when I was President. But now, I just keep up with events from the golf course. I’ve earned the privilege of monitoring the progress of America’s Freedom Train at my leisure." He turned to face me, "Do you play golf yet?"

"Very well, Sir, when permitted." (Houston always ensured he won.) Ford was openly amused by my answer and handed me his club. "Give it your best shot." I out shot him the first stroke and his amusement vanished. I gave him back his golf club as ordered.

At the end of the second hole, Ford said, "I’d like to have a word with you," He took me over to some trees off the fairway and turned to me with his arms crossed over his bulging chest, raised himself up taller, and bore his shark-like eyes into mine. "Lend me your ear", I had the Baby’s Ear Shell with me as ordered, took it out of my back pocket and handed it to Ford. He began talking as though I were a machine and he was dictating a message.

"Take this message to Dick Cheney, Pentagon. The Mob has agreed to transfer the $2.3 million (porn profits) to the Bank of Credit and Commerce International. Let’s pool our money now and we’ll be swimming in it. This operation has been an enterprising success. Let’s keep it that way. Cease agreement with Panama. All Mexican channels are implemented (cocaine and heroin). Hail to the Chief."

He took a step away and added, "And you (he poked my chest like Cheney) take care of my friend, Dick. Here..." he handed me the Baby’s Ear. For meanness he added "over and out," and did the sign of the (satanic) horns at my eyes which deepened my trance significantly since I had been conditioned so heavily to this by Byrd.

After he hit the golf ball, he asked,

"How’s my friend, Alan Simpson, these days?"

"Very well, Sir." I noticed he bristled as he missed another shot. His temper was rising. When he wanted to add more to his message, he took out his frustration on me, "Gimme that ****ing shell." He wiggled his fingers at me. That wasn’t the pass phrase and I did not trigger. He grew louder and more agitated, "Where’s that Baby’s Ear." I still could not respond.

"Lend me your goddamn ear!!" he roared at me. Close enough.

"Yes, Sir," I responded meekly as I dropped it in his hand.

He proceeded. "Tell Simpson to take care of my friend Dick Thornburgh. Get back to me on it."

He returned the ear. We could see my father waiting at the next hole and Ford said he might "bean him one" with his next stroke. He swung, but missed my father.

When we met up with my father at the third hole. Ford set up his ball first, of course, and waving his club at me said, "Get out of here before I get teed off." My father pointed the way with a thumb over his shoulder and let out a shrill whistle. My brother, Mike, walked me through the bushes and back to my father’s house.

My sister, Kelli Jo, was waiting tearfully for my return. She was MPDed and horrified of Ford. She and my little sister, Kimmy, and I had all been forced to sexually gratify Ford just prior to a special ordered porn film titled Three Little Kittens whereby his semen was filmed "anonymously". I was aware that Ford had initiated both of my sisters the way he had me in Cedar Springs, and they, too, dreaded his brutal and degrading sexuality. I hurried past my sister to make sure my daughter, Kelly, was OK. Cheney’s threat to her life was ringing loud in my ear.

I did not see the Baby’s Ear shell until Kelly and I arrived in Bradenton Beach, Florida. I drove the motor home into Florida with Houston and Kelly along, and dropped Houston off at the Tampa airport, since he did not have a role in Operation Shell Game. He "had business at Boys Town in Omaha, Nebraska" where the wayward boys were being traumatized and sexually abused in accordance with the Catholic involvement in Project Monarch.

Survivor Paul Bonacci of the infamous Franklin Cover-up case has named Alex Houston as one of his abusers there in Boys Town. Houston often went to Boys Town or other similar "vacation resorts" while I was on covert government business. Kelly and I drove on to Bradenton, where we checked into a participating campground on the bay across from MacDill Air Force Base. It, too, was "Closed for the Season".

The recreation room of the campground was actually a harmonics programming operation, and the offices were filled with elaborate computers consistent with high-level CIA operations. The day Kelly and I met with Senator Simpson, I had been instructed by campground workers to drive to nearby Santa Maria Island where we were to collect unusual shells. Kelly and I were on the "wild side" of the island hunting sand dollars because they had "BIRDS" in them.


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As we walked through the shallow water, Kelly scared up a stingray, which sent us screaming for the shore. Simpson was on the beach laughing, looking out of place in his cagney hat and grey suit with legs rolled up and polished shoes in hand. He seemed familiar with the beach. When we reached the shore, he struck up a conversation about shells. It wasn’t until he told us about the Baby’s Ear Shell and opened his wallet to retrieve it that I triggered and knew who he was.

As he look it out, he also flashed his ID signaling us to go with him. Considering Kelly, he had slipped a shell into the sand for her to find that looked like an eye in a spiral. He used this as a hypnotic induction to control her, comparing it to Bush’s Eye in the Sky.

Simpson showed me the shell in his hand and began,

"You. You alone will take the shuttle boat to your Princes’ cruise. It will leave the dock from your own backyard (Oz) at 7:30 pm. Dress appropriately (Houston had ensured the proper attire had been packed). You will be escorted to the conference room and on into the lop deck. You will see as you approach the ship (Noriega’s yacht) the top deck is surrounded in black mirrors. Look deep into the mirrors; that is where you will be. And where I will be when next we meet."

We walked a little further up the beach to where the motor home was parked and, referring to the Baby’s Ear, Simpson said,

"They’re very rare indeed. This one is the right ear. You must go to the other side of the island, out Long Boat Key, to find its match. The Colonel (Aquino) has the baby’s left ear and will meet you at the Pier at 4 pm. Stop at the little market on the corner and call. Then it’s just down the street a little ways."

I followed instructions robotically. Kelly and I watched from the pier as four big, armed (with machine guns) emotionless (programmed?) guards scanned the area as Aquino emerged from a car. Kelly said, "Mom, let’s go". I remembered Cheney’s threat and assured her I would protect her, though I could not comprehend from what.

When Aquino approached with two Dobermans on leashes, I told him Simpson had sent me there looking for the left baby’s ear. He opened his hand to reveal "all that was left-the baby’s ear-the dogs had devoured and consumed the rest of the baby." It was bloody, ragged, and bluish rather than pink. Whether or not this was an actual baby’s ear, the impact was the same. I put Kelly further behind me away from the dogs. I stood traumatized and entranced, ready for command. Aquino instructed me in full detail on the night’s activities, and that I was to leave Kelly with campground personnel until my return.


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That evening I was taken to Noriega’s yacht in the bay via a small motorboat. I triggered and tranced further as I approached the familiar "black mirrored" yacht according to plan. I was helped onto the back of the yacht by Panamanian "palace" guards who kept me there at gunpoint until I was cleared and my Baby’s Ear pass key accepted. I was escorted past the Air Force Base officials, their wives, drug people, and the vast amounts of cocaine laid out for them.


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I recognized several of the guests, including Oliver North and Puerto Rican drug lord Jose Busto. I was led up the stairs to the conference room where Aquino, Noriega, and Simpson were waiting. Simpson! I realized I must "be on the other side of the black mirror" and I gazed out into the darkness.

Simpson spoke softly,

"You’re on the other side of the black mirror now (NASA programming), peering though the blackness out to sea. Sea of black. Riding on a sea of black, drifting, drifting from the winds. Deep into the blackness. Drifting through the sands of time. Black sands, yielding shells — such as this Baby’s Ear."

He pressed it into my hand signaling it was time for me to speak, I addressed Noriega,

"If you please, Sir, I have a message from the President of the United States of America: The successes we have enjoyed in our shared endeavors are now history in the making, whose course cannot be altered - regardless of the imminent lifting of the veil by well intentioned do-gooders. As this veil is lifted, it may shed light on you. So you must have your house in order, as does Ollie North, and cease any and all detectable activity I will do my best to keep you under shield and out of view if you comply with these orders and cease all detectable activity at once."

Noriega reacted as anticipated, obviously insulted by my message. In the ensuing moment of chaos, Aquino hypnotically waved his hands in front of Noriega and dramatically spread out his satanic black cape (worn for impact on Noriega’s superstitions) which appeared to fill the room. Noriega all but bowed to him as Aquino’s control over him was complete.

Aquino’s manner was side-show-style rather than the usual somber tones used on Military bases for the Hands On demonstrations.

"General, for your entertainment and in respect and appreciation of your successful enterprising ’Contra-bution’, the Chief has sent his Presidential Model to demonstrate the latest technology in mind-control advancements. With the flip of a switch, this Pigeon becomes a Kitten (I began undressing). Quite a different animal."

Because of Noriega’s superstitious beliefs, the whole idea of switching personalities apparently frightened him. I know Noriega believed whole-heartedly in mind control, but could not grasp the concept of multiple personalities (which I now believe he perceived as demonic possession).

Therefore, he did not adhere to the idea of one slave being trained for both business and pleasure. Aquino, whom Noriega already perceived as a "devil" working for Reagan, was manipulating his beliefs masterfully. The impact of this demonstration and Operation would prove to be Psychological Warfare of the highest order.


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Aquino ordered me to lie on the bed and invited Noriega to look closer at what the "Wizard" - "his Chief (Reagan)" - could create. Noriega stepped closer to see what Aquino was pointing out to him between my breasts. A large, carved baphomet appeared. Aquino had hypnotically regressed me to the time of its making which caused it to seemingly "suddenly appear" right before Noriega’s eyes.

Noriega jumped back, ignorantly terrified of this scientific phenomena. I believe Noriega stayed in the room for the rest of the demonstration simply because he was frozen in fear. Aquino hit me with a cat-o-nine-tails and I shrieked in pain. Noriega jumped, Aquino hit me with it again, this time activating me to respond sexually as though pain were pleasure - a mind-control concept that Noriega more readily grasped. Then Aquino pointed out that the baphomet had disappeared.

While Noriega looked, Aquino used Byrd’s Hypnotic induction as he cut me between the breasts with a knife saying, "Unlike a knife sharp and clean, I’ll carve out what I want." My trance had been deepened to the extreme that my circulatory system was slowed. Therefore I did not bleed until Aquino hypnotically changed my trance level. He then told Noriega that the baphomet carving had "retreated to the depths of my body and soul, possessing me and inciting the heal of hell."

He commanded me to show any "face", the vaginal mutilation carving of the baphomet face. As I did, Aquino offered Noriega my sex. As predicted, Noriega’s eyes bulged in terror and revulsion. While Aquino told him his "rejection of me had killed me," I ceased breathing and moving as conditioned. Noriega was dumbfounded as Aquino laughed wickedly and threatened, "Even death will not permit her -or you- escape from the Wizard’s power." He explained that I was the "Wizard’s own" and "under his spell" and could therefore "re-energize myself and comeback to life."

He put a vaginal prod in my hand and ordered me to masturbate myself with it, pushing the button to electrically jolt myself internally upon command. Noriega’s eyes were enormous. He paled to a sickly grey, his mouth fell open and he ran out the door while Aquino assured him that he had "NO where to run, no where to hide from Reagan’s powers."

Noriega predictably interpreted the demonstration as a threat from the depths of HELL, which should have been enough to heed Reagan’s commands to break the drug trafficking ties immediately. (Apparently this is not the case as is evidenced by Noriega’s continued Florida incarceration.)

Aquino and Simpson doubled over with laughter as they congratulated themselves on a job well done. Simpson finally ordered me to dress and escorted me to the back of the yacht to ensure the guards put me on the shuttle boat rather than kill me because of Noriega’s horror.

As I approached the dock of the campground, the boat driver told me I would find Kelly asleep in the ’recreation’ room. I ran to her, and, fearful of Cheney’s threat, made sure her ears were still intact. I was immensely relieved to find them still there and to know she was "OK" (I could not think to wonder what she had endured in my absence.)

I illogically felt like a "good mom" for "doing my part" right so Kelly could live. Never before had I experienced such a sense of danger to us both and my relief was proportionate. I lovingly held her in my arms the rest of the night.

[Bluegreen]

CLINTON COKE LINES

Chapter 14


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I met up with Bill Clinton again in 1982 at a county fair in Berryville, Arkansas. Alex Houston was "entertaining" there due to the close proximity of the CIA Near Death Trauma Center (aka slave conditioning and programming camp) and drug distribution point at Swiss Villa in Lampe. Missouri. I had just endured intense physical and psychological trauma and programming, Clinton was campaigning for Governor and was backstage with Hillary and Chelsea while waiting to make a speech.
 
Clinton stood in the afternoon sun with his arms crossed, talking to Houston about him and "his people" (CIA Operatives) being looked into specific areas for the dual purpose of entertaining and carrying our specific covert drug operations.

From my perspective, those who were actively laying the groundwork for implementing the New World Order through mind conditioning of the masses made no distinction between Democratic and Republican Parties. Their aspirations were international in proportion, not American. Members were often drawn from, among other elitist groups, the Council on Foreign Relations. Like George Bush, Bill Clinton was an active member of the CFR, Bilderbergers, and Tri-Lateral Commission.
 
Based on numerous conversations I overheard. Clinton was being groomed and prepared to fill the role of President under the guise of Democrat in the event that the American people became discouraged with Republican leaders. This was further evidenced by the extent of Clinton’s New World Order knowledge and professed loyalties.

Clinton understood that I had just been through "hell" in Lampe, and took it all in stride as he focused on his speech. He not only was well aware of the mind-control tortures and criminal covert activities proliferating in Arkansas and the neighboring state of Missouri, but he condoned them! Just as there are no partisan preferences in this world dominance effort, neither are there any strong individual state considerations or boundaries, either. I knew from experience that Clinton’s Arkansas criminal covert operations meshed with the Lampe Missouri center where he routinely tended business and claimed to "vacation." staying in the compound’s resort villas.

In 1983, Houston took me to Lampe for routine trauma and programming while he was scheduled to "entertain" at the amphitheatre. Also scheduled to perform were Bill Clinton’s and George Bush’s friends Lee Greenwood and CIA operative, slave runner, and country music singer Tommy Overstreet. Greenwood and Overstreet were active in both the Lampe, Missouri and Lake/Mount Shasta, California CIA compounds. Clinton was flown in from Berryville, Arkansas by helicopter for the shows as well as for a business meeting.


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George Bush Sr and Lee Greenwood


Before Clinton arrived, Greenwood and Houston were in the backstage dressing rooms snorting line after line of cocaine. Houston, always eager to make an extra penny to pinch, attempted to prostitute me to Greenwood,

"She’s the real performer," Houston said. "She performs all kinds of sex acts upon command. For a small price, she’s yours."

Greenwood laughed, and referring to my Huntsville, Alabama NASA programming said, "I’ve spent more time in Huntsville than she has, and I know full well who and what she is - a ’space cadet’ programmed for sex. She’s a modified version of Marilyn Monroe." Tommy Overstreet had wandered in and heard what Greenwood said. "How much time have you spent in Shasta?"

"Shasta?" Greenwood looked arrogantly at Overstreet and smiled knowingly as he said, "You don’t ’spend time’ in Shasta, you maintain the concept if you can. I haven’t lost any time there, either, if that’s your next question. I go there quite a bit. Enough really to override Houston’s suggestion with ease and take what I want, when I want, and how I want it."
 
Greenwood began expertly accessing my sex programming and told the others in the room, "You all can come and go as you please, but I’ve been made an offer that I am going to use." He ordered me to undress and bend over the desk where he roughly sodomized me as he said, "You’re going to think it’s daddy all over again".

When Greenwood was through with me, I was ordered out into the amphitheatre concert area. During intermission, I met up with Swiss Villa manager Hal Meadows, Tommy Overstreet, and Governor Clinton in the hall. Clinton was wearing a cap that read "Diesel Trainer" which I was told to equate literally as "these-will-train-her". Puzzled, I looked at his cap and asked, "Are you a conductor?"

Clinton smiled and said, "Of electricity". Overstreet laughed as he continued,

"Actually it means I check cabooses. How’s yours?" I squirmed. Apparently Greenwood had bragged about sodomizing me. They laughed even harder as Clinton said,

"Still running, I’m sure."

Houston stepped out of the dressing room to greet Clinton, "Hi, bud."

Houston extended his hand. "I hear you made Governor."

"I hear you deliver a hell of a one liner," Clinton replied, cryptically referring to cocaine and NOT Houston’s so-called comedy routine. "I’m always aspiring to achieve new heights."

"Well, come on in," Houston invited. "I have enough (cocaine) to put us all into orbit." I walked into the dressing room with them as Houston was saying to Clinton, "I suppose there are no limits for you since you’re across the (state) line."

"What line?" Clinton feigned surprise and ignorance. He looked at Hal Meadows as he continued, "You mean I’ve left that state of mine? In the state of mind I’m in, there are no boundaries anyway." He walked over to the table and snorted a line of cocaine. "I come here to get away from it all. This kind of business is pleasure."

"So where’s that young wife of yours?" Houston asked, referring to Hillary.

"She’s with friends." Clinton sniffed the coke further up his nose. "She’s minding her own business. I’m just here to unwind, see the show, maybe do a little hunting (referring to A Most Dangerous Game). I’ve got a bird (helicopter) ready to fly me back when I’m through. Hey, speaking of ’Byrd’ (he gestured my way) I hear she’s moved up to the big house (White House)." Referring to his friend and mentor Senator Byrd he asked, "So what’s his position now?"

"The same." Houston answered. "Probably like this..." Houston pantomimed a lewd sodomy pose while everyone laughed. "He still runs the show."

Clinton kept his eyes fixed on Houston’s "caboose" and said, "Why don’t you show her (referring to me) me way out and show me that again?"

If I could have thought at that moment, I would have realized Bill Clinton was/is bisexual. My personal sexual experience with Clinton was limited, but I had witnessed him engaged in homosexual activity during an orgy at Swiss Villa.

Immediately following the Swiss Villa incident, Houston was scheduled as usual to perform at the county fair in Benyville, Arkansas. There, Houston and I had been visiting with long time Clinton Mend and supporter, H.B. Gibson, when we parted company to attend a private meeting at the mansion of Clinton’s bisexual friend and supporter Bill Hall. Hall had reportedly made his fortune in the pre-fabricated log home business and trucking, and the Clintons were staying in a guest villa patterned after those at Swiss Villa.


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The late Bill Hall Jr and wife Frances, who was charged with his murder in a love triangle


Hillary had taken toddler Chelsea to the villa while Clinton and his aide/bodyguard attended the meeting. Tommy Overstreet was also in attendance as this directly coincided with the recent Lampe meeting. We all sat in Hall’s sunken living room on two couches facing each other with a black mirror coffee table between us. Hall had cut numerous lines of cocaine on the table, and everyone present—including Bill Clinton—was inhaling it through $50 bills rolled into straws.
 
The conversation ranged from CIA, drugs, and politics to the Swiss Villa Amphitheatre and country music. At that time, a major effort was underway to move Nashville, Tennessee’s country music industry to the Lampe area (it has since literally moved to nearby Branson), in closer proximity to the CIA cocaine operations that leached the industry.

Tommy Overstreet was attempting to convince Hall, who was obviously no stranger to the drug (cocaine) business, to join the high level CIA cocaine operation that was funding covert activity. They discussed the possibility of Hall transporting cocaine from Berryville, Arkansas to Nashville, Tennessee to be in on the ground level of what would soon be one of the largest and most prolific CIA cocaine operations—the Branson, Missouri country music industry.
 
By enlisting now, the contacts and customers that Hall would procure could "politically and financially bolster him for life". Additionally, Overstreet discussed the viability of using Hall’s own company trucks to transport the drug throughout Atlanta, Georgia; Louisville, Kentucky; and Jacksonville, Florida as well as Nashville, Tennessee and Lampe, Missouri. These key CIA cocaine routes coincided with Hall’s established truck routes, according to the insiders present at the meeting.
 
Hall was being offered the "opportunity of a lifetime" as his role would also include laundering money through his business to fund the black budget covert operations. Hall appeared nervous and skeptical, and Clinton and Overstreet attempted to maintain a "light" atmosphere by joking that Hall could change the name of his trucking line to "CLINTON COKE LINES".

Hall was not convinced and began to raise questions as to the longevity of the operation and how he was going to protect himself. Although Hall was very adept at the cocaine business, he voiced concern that he found it easier to trust those who were not with the CIA operations than he did U.S. government protected participants.
 
Clinton reassured him that it was "Reagan’s operation," but Hall was concerned that some faction of the government would "shut it down like a sting operation" without warning and leave him literally holding the bag, Houston laughed and explained that "no one was going to cut it (the drug business) off." He assured them it was far too lucrative and that there would "always be a market" for drugs-a market controlled by those criminals implementing their New World Order.

Clinton added to what Houston said, talking in local colloquialisms.

"Bottom line is, we’ve got control of the (drug) industry, therefore we’ve got control of them (suppliers and buyers). You control the guy underneath ya’ and Uncle (Sam) has ya’ covered. What have ya’ got to lose? No risk. No one’s gonna hang ya’ out to dry. And whatever spills off the truck as it passes through (he laughed and snorted another line of coke) you get to clean up."

Hall smiled at his friend, which was apparently interpreted as consent. Clinton motioned for his aide to get his ledger. Overstreet began pulling out his paperwork, and Hall neatly cleared the table of the remaining coke lines.

Clinton gestured to me and told Houston, "Get her out of here."

Houston didn’t move and laughed. "She’s a Presidential Model. She’s kept secrets bigger than yours."

Clinton responded, "I don’t care. Get her the **** out of here."

Hall’s wife led me away and locked me in a back bedroom. After an indeterminate period of time, I heard her telephone Hillary at the guest villa. She then drove me up the mountain through the dark to meet with Hillary. Although I had previously met Hillary we had very little to say to each other - particularity since I was still dazed and tranced from the tortures I had endured at the CIA Near Death Trauma Center in Lampe.


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Hillary knew I was a mind-controlled slave, and, like Bill Clinton, just took it in stride as a "normal" part of life in politics. Hillary was fully clothed and stretched out on the bed sleeping when Hall’s wife and I arrived.

"Hillary, I brought you something you’ll really enjoy. Kind of an unexpected surprise. Bill ordered her out of the meeting and I look her to my bedroom and made an interesting discovery. She is literally a two-faced (referring to my vaginal mutilation carving) bitch."

"Hmm?" Hillary opened her eyes and sleepily roused herself. "Show me."

Hall’s wife ordered me to take my clothes off while Hillary watched.

"Is she clean?" Hillary asked, meaning disease free.
 
"Of course, she’s Byrd’s," she responded, continuing the conversation as though I were not there, "Plus, I heard Houston say something about her being a Presidential Model, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean."

"It means she’s clean," Hillary said matter-of-factly as she stood up.

I was not capable of giving thought to such things back then, but I am aware in retrospect that all Presidential Model slaves I knew seemed to have an immunity to social diseases. It was a well known fact in the circles I was sexually passed around in that government level mind-controlled sex slaves were "clean" to the degree that none of my abusers took precautions such as wearing condoms.

Hall’s wife patted the bed and instructed me to display the mutilation. Hillary exclaimed, "God!" and immediately began performing oral sex on me.

Apparently aroused by the carving in my vagina,2 Hillary stood up and quickly peeled out of her matronly nylon panties and pantyhose. Uninhibited despite a long day in the hot sun, she gasped, "Eat me, oh, god, eat me now." I had no choice but to comply with her orders, and Bill Hall’s wife made no move to join me in my distasteful task.
 
Hillary had resumed examining my hideous mutilation and performing oral sex on me when Bill Clinton walked in. Hillary lifted her head to ask, "How’d it go?" Clinton appeared totally unaffected by what he walked into, tossed his jacket on a chair and said, "It’s official. I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed."

I put my clothes on as ordered, and Hall’s wife drove me back down to the mansion where Houston was waiting for me. The meeting apparently had been a success. I heard discussions throughout the remaining years between Houston, his agent Reggie McLaughlin, and Loretta Lynn’s handler, Ken Riley, pertaining to Hall’s successful branch of the CIA cocaine operation emanating from Arkansas, No discussions were as poignant and revealing as those between Alex Houston and CIA operative country music entertainer Boxcar Willie.


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Boxcar Willie (b. Lecil Travis Martin) burst onto the country music scene after an ad campaign of high tech hypnotically persuasive produced television commercials that strategically made him an overnight, sensation and "star". The country music industry’s Freedom Train needed a conductor to lead the industry and fans to Branson, Missouri, and Boxcar Willie was placed in the driver’s seat. Like the Pied Piper of Hamlin, Boxcar Willie succeeded in his role of trance-ferring the industry in close proximity to the Lampe CIA cocaine operations.

Boxcar Willie was one of the primary ground level contacts that Bill Hall made after Clinton convinced him to cash in on the cocaine benefits of the country music industry transfer. Houston and Boxcar Willie discussed Hall’s lucrative dealings throughout the years in my presence while traveling the country together, billed on the same shows, including performances at the Swiss Villa Amphitheatre, I had much contact with Boxcar Willie personally since my government sponsored cocaine runs often coincided and intermeshed with his.

But I never knew Boxcar Willie as well as my daughter, Kelly, knew him. Kelly has named Boxcar Willie as one of her primary sexual abusers in three different mental institutions, and has voiced frustration at the lack of justice. "Why am I the one locked up while my abusers remain free?" she constantly pleads. I assure her I am doing all I can to blow the whistle on Boxcar Willie for hex, and expose his role in transferring the country music industry to close proximity of the Lampe, Missouri CIA cocaine operation as outlined by Bill Clinton.

[Bluegreen]

NO MORE BEATING AROUND THE BUSH

Chapter 15

It was a sunny, fall day in 1983 when U.S. Congressman Guy VanderJagt met with my CIA operative mind-control handler, Alex Houston, my then 3 1/2 year old daughter, Kelly, and me on the steps of the U.S. Senate in Washington, D.C. Kelly appeared familiar with VanderJagt, although I had never previously remembered seeing her in his company. Even so, I could not think to realize he was, in fact, sexually abusing her just as he had me when I was a child.


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VanderJagt knelt on one knee in front of her to talk with her, assuring her that "today was a special day" because she would "see Uncle George (Bush) while mommy sees Uncle Ronnie (Reagan)". He stood up and took her by the hand, saying in Alice In Wonderland cryptic language, "Let’s go-on an Adventure together" and led her quietly and robotically away.

I met up with Kelly again that afternoon at the White House, both of us literally "on our toes" and standing at attention in Reagan’s office. In retrospect, I wonder at the measures of control inflicted on my 3 1/2-year old child to cause her to perform so robotically and behave "so well" as she silently stood with the plastic smile and unblinking eyes, in the presence of President Reagan, Vice President Bush, and (later Defense Secretary) Dick Cheney.

Reagan appeared to gaze at Kelly, with her long blonde hair cascading down the back of her blue pinafore dress, completing her Alice In Wonderland Appearance. Reagan seemed to pose no direct threat to her sexually as he said,

"She is adorable, a model child", Reagan then gestured towards Bush and said, "This is my Vice President George Bush. People don’t usually know what the role of the Vice President is because he’s always behind the scenes making sure everything that the President wants done happens the way it’s supposed to."

He looked at me and said matter-of-factly,

"I catch the public’s attention (he made a gesture in the air that was eye catching) while the Vice President carries out orders."

Bush’s close friend, Dick Cheney, said, "And gives them."

"Right," Reagan said. "An order from him is like an order from me."

Bush was wearing canvas boat shoes and a cardigan sweater as he knelt on one knee in front of Kelly in order to talk to her on her level. Bush used the children’s television program Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood to scramble/confuse young victims’ (like Kelly’s) memory of contact with him and his sexual abuse.


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His physical resemblance to TV’s Fred Rogers was deliberately exaggerated by his choice of clothes and mannerisms, and is further compounded by his developed vocal impersonation. Using his best Mr. Rogers voice he said,

"Come here, Little One. I want to ask you something. Do you watch Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood?"

"Yes, Sir," Kelly responded.

Bush told Kelly,

"Well, I’m kind of like Mr. Rogers when he makes his puppets move and talk—like your daddy (Houston, ventriloquist) does with Elmer (his dummy). Only I’m like Mr. Rogers because I have lots of puppets--only mine are people. I even have a King (Fahd) just like Mr. Rogers. I pull the strings (he pantomimed marionette hand movements) and I talk through them. They say my words and we create all kinds of exciting Adventures. Right now I’m building a new Neighborhood (the New World Order). The stage is set, and I have hold of everyone’s strings. I need you to help me— together we can pull your mother’s strings. She’s in my Neighborhood. That means you’re in my Neighborhood, too."

It seems obvious to me now that Bush was referring to those actively engaged in implementing the New World Order through chaos and mass mind control (aka media conditioning) as "The Neighborhood". Of course I was unable to consider disputing Bush’s statement, and Kelly was certainly not of a mind to see beyond Bush’s twist on her favorite television program. Kelly’s big blue eyes grew even wider as she responded, "I am?"

Bush stood up and took her hand, "C’mon. Let me show you my Neighborhood," He led her out the door.

Kelly became violently physically ill after her induction into George Bush’s "Neighborhood" and from every sexual encounter she had with him thereafter. She ran 104-6 degree temperatures, vomited and endured immobilizing headaches for an average of three days (as is consistent with high voltage trauma). These were the only tell-tale evidences aside from the scarring burns left on her skin.


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Houston forbade me to call a doctor, and Kelly forbade me to comfort her, pitifully complaining that her head "hurt too bad to even move." And she did not move for hours on end. Kelly often complained of severe kidney pain, and her rectum usually bled for a day or two after Bush sexually abused her. My own mind-control victimization rendered me unable to help or protect her. Seeing my child in such horrible condition drove my own wedge of insanity in deeper, perpetuating my total inability to affect her needs until our rescue by Mark Phillips in 1988.

Kelly’s bleeding rectum was but one of many physical indicators of George Bush’s pedophile perversions, I have overheard him speak blatantly of his sexual abuse of her on many occasions. He used this and threats to her life to "pull my strings" and control me. The psychological ramifications of being raped by a pedophile President arc mind-shattering enough, but reportedly Bush further reinforced his traumas to Kelly’s mind with sophisticated NASA electronic and drug mind-control devices.

Bush also instilled the "Who yagonna call?" and "I’ll be watching you" binds on Kelly, further reinforcing her sense of helplessness. The systematic tortures and traumas I endured as a child now seem trite in comparison to the brutal physical and psychological devastation that George Bush inflicted on my daughter.


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Ronald Reagan - Dick Cheney


As soon as the door closed behind Bush and Kelly, Dick Cheney reached over to Reagan’s desk from his seat and flipped over the hourglass. (Oz) "Her (Kelly’s) time is running out. You’d better pay attention and follow orders as though her life depends on it, because from now on (heh heh) it always does! If you make one mistake—one—then I’ll get her, my pretty."

Reagan said,

"George is like a director. He makes sure the stage is set to implement the New World Order as I envision it. Then he makes sure everyone has a script and knows their pan. He tells them how to speak and when to speak it. How to dress and (patting my head) how to wear their hair. He gets everything and everyone in place and hollers, ’Action!’"

Reagan shouted through his hand as though it were a megaphone and rambled on,

"All the world’s a stage. I’m the Wizard. But he is directing the show so you better pay attention and learn your part well from him."

Cheney interrupted,

"George and I will be working closely on a few projects together, and when you see him, you’ll see me. When you’re given orders from him, you’re given orders from me."

"She knows the chain of command, Dick," Reagan injected, referring to his perception of who was in charge, and in what order.

President, Vice President, Habib, Cheney, Byrd, etc. may have been the chain of command in Reagan’s mind, but Cheney’s definition was necessary to my understanding. From my perspective, the chain of command was clearly Bush, Cheney, Habib, Reagan, Aquino and lastly, on a par with my handler, Houston, Byrd, all of which was subject to change at any given moment.

Cheney just rolled his eyes at Reagan’s comment and never slowed down as he continued, "Right now a stage is being set and you will be directed by the Vice President on just how he wants you to do your part in setting the stage for Mexico’s role in the New World Order."

Reagan jumped in again,

"With the world in order, there will be world peace. By strategically placing an American Patriot dedicated to the cause of spreading democracy in all parts of the world, we can influence the thinking of every nation’s leader and paint for them a picture of freedom and American values that they’ll never forget. They’ll spread it to the people and the whole planet will be of one mind—one purpose-one cause. Freedom. You’ll be talking with some of these friends and leaders from time to lime on my behalf."

Bush slipped back into the meeting, without Kelly. Cheney continued,

"Taking orders from me and your new director-the Vice President. Lesson number one. You know what Miami Vice is. Undercover drug agents taking control of the drug industry. A Vice President is just that-an undercover drug agent taking control of the drug industry-for the President."

Bush spoke up.

"Mexico is a problem. They’ve got lots of drugs, but not the brains nor l he means to sell it outside their own country. So how can we take control of their (growing) drug industry when we can’t even get our hands on it? It’s your duty as an American citizen to open the routes and initiate freedom from poverty throughout their nation by offering them cash as a means of enticing their drug industry right into our grasp by bringing it right up to our doorsteps."

"Operation Greenbacks for Wetbacks," Cheney said, laughing. Bush laughed with him.

Bush regained his composure to conclude, "Your assignment begins in Miami with NCL (Norwegian Caribbean Lines) and ends when you return from Mexico with word of success."

Cheney caught my eye with a hand gesture that directed my gaze from Bush to the hourglass, which was running out fast. By then I was deeply tranced and lost touch with my surroundings all together while my trance was timelessly deepened for further programming, I left the White House with a message for the Vice President of Mexico, Carlos Salinas de Gortari, from the Vice President of the U.S., and with one very sick child.


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Carlos Salinas de Gortari

[Bluegreen]

OPERATlON GREENBACKS FOR WETBACKS

Chapter 16


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My CIA mind-control handler, Alex Houston and I boarded the NCL (Norwegian Cruise Lines) ship bound for Cozumel, Mexico, with a large, black, soft side suitcase packed full of cash and a proposal of "prosperity" from the U.S. This proposal, programmed in me by Vice President Bush, was supposedly initial diplomatic groundwork for the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA).

It was my understanding then that the North American Free Trade Agreement was considered a significant step in implementing the New World Order through mind manipulation of the masses. According to Byrd, propaganda disguising the true purpose of NAFTA included the concept of "free trade" which the U.S. and Mexican governments had long since shared.
 
"Free trade" of child and adult mind-controlled slaves, cocaine, heroin and businesses has been not-so-secretly proliferating for years. My own father joined the "run for the border" via U.S. State Department and Mexican subsidized business incentives and opened yet another branch of his U.S. Department of Defense-given-business in Mexico. This was part of the "free trade" agreement that I know personally has been operating smoothly from at least 1984.
 
In an effort to maintain the illusion that the agreement would not create a negative economic imbalance between Mexico and the U.S., tourist areas of Mexico were deliberately built up, enhanced and Americanized with U.S. dollars. These funds were provided through CIA covert Black Budget operations of drug and slave trading, as well as directly through the Senate Appropriations Committee of which Senator Robert C. Byrd is chairman as of this writing.

I certainly do not purport to understand international business, nor have I attempted to "educate" myself through what 1 know to be propaganda slanted and filtered periodicals. How money interfaces in world markets has been well documented. For example, who supports whom in which financial endeavors is apparently far too complex for even BCCI attorneys and investigators to sort through.
 
My personal perspective on Mexican, U.S., and Saudi Arabian buildup of Mexico’s economy is limited to my own experiences. My under-standing is further affected by deliberate misinformation from the criminal perspectives of those who were in control of my mind’s knowledge base and actions. From time to time, Senator Byrd used me as a robotic sounding board. He told me what he wanted me to hear, and this was structured more toward stroking his own enormous, warped ego than it was to educate me in world finance.

Senator Byrd claimed "the money game is simply a game of control," and lives by his adopted Golden Rule of "He who holds the gold makes the rules." He told me in so many words that,

"By appropriating funds to all (viable) projects ushering in the free trade agreement, and allocating lesser amounts to U.S. social systems such as our ’criminal’ justice system, I control our country and our place in world markets. All the world is a stage, and I own the theater!... you can bank on it!"

Senator Byrd’s twisted reality echoed in my mind when America was bought (stolen) and sold by Presidents Bush and Clinton in the recent passage of NAFTA.

"I would never run for President—Oh, I’d win if I did," Byrd bragged. "But why should I run for an office that is beneath me? I can make a President look good, or I can make him look bad by strategically appropriating funds."


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Byrd and others I knew boasted that he was one of those (corrupt power brokers) responsible for Bill Clinton’s being "chosen" and elected to the office of Presidency. And the last minute bids and dealings with those Congressmen holding NAFTA’s deciding votes proved "strategic appropriations" indeed made Clinton "look good" in his NAFTA "victory".

At the La Celiba Hotel in Cozumel, Houston maintained my food and water deprivation for mind-control purposes, even during our dinner meeting in the hotel’s restaurant later that evening. Although the restaurant was "officially" closed due to the late hour, a mariachi band, one waiter, four stationed armed guards, my Mexican dignitary contact, his two assistants, and handler, Houston and I were present.
 
During the meeting, arrangements were made to meet with Mexico’s then Vice President Salinas the next afternoon at a nearby military installation. I would also deliver a message as usual from Senator Byrd at the nearby Consulate’s office pertaining to U.S. financial support for creating propaganda to insure the illusion of economic equality in Mexican tourist areas. These funds were simply to further the ongoing shared goal of easing into New World Order domination through carefully contrived smoke and mirror tactics.

The next afternoon, Houston escorted me to the high security fenced government installation for my meeting with Salinas. According to Bush, Salinas was regarded by the Reagan-Bush Administration as superior in power to Miguel de la Madrid who was officially President of Mexico at that time. The upcoming Mexican "election," which was no more an election than Reagan’s second term, was to place Salinas in the office of President to coincide with Bush’s destined Presidency.


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Bush – Reagan – De la Madrid


To insure that this "strategically placed American Patriot" would be voted into position, Reagan informed me that the U.S. would "guard the integrity" of "elections" by covertly "overseeing" them, among other strategies. Salinas was to be President at all costs.

Although President de la Madrid was considered by Bush to be the steppingstone to the ultimate reign of Salinas/Bush’s (already established) diplomatic relations, he was regarded with all due respect in a manner conducive to "no margins for error". His full cooperation was tantamount to establishing Bush’s and Salinas' goals via free flowing drug markets and Mexico’s cooperation in subversively funding and supplying Reagan’s Nicaraguan Contras. De la Madrid worked in close association with Salinas so that a smooth transition of power would maintain U.S.-Mexican relations and efforts already in place.

"A message to Salinas is a message to the President," Cheney had explained. Not only would the message be relayed to de La Madrid, but for the most part Salinas was the one responsible for working with George Bush since they would both come into power during the most critical point in the promotion of NAFTA—passing it by the American people and into law. President Reagan, Mexican President De la Madrid, Vice President Bush, and Mexican Vice President Salinas were all "of one mind—one effort" toward economic expansion and growth for our southern "neighbors in the New World Order" through what I experienced was based on "free trade" of drugs, children, and pornography.
 
Vice President Bush told me that this (criminal) activity was regarded as Mexico’s.

"Only means of rapid economic advancement and freedom from poverty since the people were slaves to their own inability to advance in world markets."
When I arrived at the military installation with the aforementioned suitcase of cash in hand, I was taken to Salinas’ "office" through a series of electronic gates guarded by officers in white uniforms. Salinas sat at his desk, which was small and functional (i.e., military issue), set on a highly polished wooden floor in a vast room virtually void of decor and personal effects.
 
This created an air of military practicality. I set the suitcase in front of Salinas and began relaying the message I had been programmed to deliver,

"I have a message from the Vice President of the United State of America to our neighbors in Mexico. America is willing to share its wealth through a trade agreement with Mexico. We’ll trade our cash for control over Mexico’s cocaine and heroin production. By controlling your drug industry, we can open the border between our countries to allow a free flow of cocaine and heroin into the U.S., bought and paid for in American dollars to build Mexico, Eventually this could dissolve the border between our countries altogether as Mexico’s economy grows to match ours.
 
If we begin today, this dream could be realized by the turn of the century-sharing the same continent, sharing the same wealth. Why? The drug industry already dictates what the Mexican government can or cannot do. By giving the U.S. control of your drug industry, Mexico regains control over her government. Re-established power backed by U.S. dollars will bring Mexico on an economic par with America. We can begin by spreading the word through the (drug) cartels that the U.S. is covertly willing to open the borders to free drug trade by making agents available to show you the passage and routes through which the drugs are to be delivered.
 
Only U.S. agents can bring Mexican heroin and (South American) cocaine across the border, and likewise they will bring the cash in. Explain to those select few who control the drug empires that the cruise line (NCL) agreement is going into mass expansion, tearing down the border between our countries enough to allow for as many drugs to come in as Mexico can deal out. When do we begin? Immediately. The cash is at hand. (I gestured toward the suitcase which Salinas unzipped to find full of cash.)
 
Deliver whatever amount of brown heroin you have at hand as a means of confirmation to the agreement. Keep the change as a token of the change and good fortune that has befallen Mexico from its neighboring nation."


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Salinas


As I finished Bush’s message, Salinas immediately took a note pad from the desk and scrawled a quick note. He passed it to a guard who was stationed at the door. He stood up, smiled, and leaned over his desk as he extended his hand in a warm handshake. I was escorted out. Houston found me on the front steps of the installation and together we were escorted through the barbed wire fences and back onto the streets of Cancun.

I waited in a small clearing nearby for an indeterminate length of time, playing with a large iguana. Finally, a taxi cab driver pulled up and honked his horn three times, signaling me to pick up a fist-sized ball of Mexican brown heroin. The heroin was crudely wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine, and measured approximately the size of a baseball. As quickly as the cab driver left, Houston, who was standing some distance away with two uniformed men, signaled me to join him. We were then driven to the airport where we boarded a U.S. Air Force aircraft to Washington, D.C.

Immediately upon arrival at Andrews Air Force Base just outside of Washington, D.C, I was taken to Senator Byrd who then escorted me to Dick Cheney’s Pentagon office for a meeting with Vice President Bush. I was ill and vomiting from the high voltage administered in Mexico to compartmentalize my memory. I was allowed to use Byrd’s magnetic pass key card to unlock the maze of doors that led to the Ladies’ Room.
 
I was still wearing my inappropriate-for-D.C. cruise clothes and carrying the heroin in my tote bag when I met with Bush to confirm Mexico’s agreement to his proposal. Bush took the heroin for himself, obviously pleased with the quality of the product. Cheney laughed and told Bush he needed to "confiscate the Contra-band".

Bush replied, "Over my dead body" as he laughed at Cheney’s Contra joke. "If you don’t share some of it, that could be the case," Cheney said. "Pitch it here."

Bush struck a pitch pose, wound up, made a fake out pitch, and joked in baseball banter, "It’s a ’high fly’ ball. You’re going to have to steal." He tossed the heroin in the air, caught it, and strode for the door, Cheney got out of his chair, pointed to the door, and ordered me "Out".

Houston and I were flown in to Montego Bay, Jamaica and transported to Ocho Rios to board our next NCL cruise ship.


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[TravelerJim]

I am somewhat familiar with Cathy's story but have not spent much time on it.

Having said that, does anyone doubt her veracity? Or.... is there some other explanation here to the story, which is amazing in its detail and the number of public personas she has come into contact with.

I do not mean to disparage Cathy. But asking here for thoughts....

[Bluegreen]

ABOUT FACES

Chapter 17


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Soon after Kelly was inducted into George Bush’s "Neighborhood" through horrific sexual abuse, Bush enforced his controls on me. Our mind-control handler, Alex Houston, had taken Kelly and me to Washington, D.C. for separately scheduled meetings with Bush. Kelly had already been escorted by agents to her rendezvous with him that morning, during which Lime I had been ordered to one of U.S, Senator Robert C. Byrd’s offices located in the nearby FBI Hoover Building.
 
There, Byrd reinforced his holds on me by claiming control of the Justice Department and "proving" once again that I had "no where to run and no where to hide". My horror reaction was compounded when Byrd looked at his pocket watch and notified me in Alice in Wonderland cryptic language, "You’re late, you’re late for a very important date," referring to my meeting with Bush.

I sprinted from the Hoover Building, encountering Houston who waited just outside. Houston hurried me to the Smithsonian where I waited for my escorts as instructed at the "Face Changing" exhibit. This computerized exhibit illustrates how an individual’s face can take on a radically different appearance by slightly altering any single feature.

The exhibit fascinated me as a programmed MPD since multiples often experience the unnerving phenomena of routinely not recognizing themselves in a mirror due to switching personalities. A multiple’s face often changes slightly with each switch, which "validates" the religious communities’ perceptions of so-called "demonic possession" in occultism. Logic quickly dispels this belief when it is realized that everyone’s expression changes according to emotion, by skin color and tones, blood pressure, and by tightening or relaxing specific micro muscles.
 
An MPD’s face changes are more exaggerated when these natural conditions are combined with the results of sophisticated programming. "Charm School" teaches subconscious control over these natural phenomena as a ready-made disguise on government slaves such as myself, as welt as to enhance sex slaves’ "beauty" to their maximum potential. I was incapable of thinking or logically understanding my fascination with the display, as I stood totally enthralled, waiting for my escorts as ordered.

As the escorts approached, I was relieved to see Kelly with them. Though she was visibly tranced and traumatized, the fact that she was alive was all I was capable of grasping. When she saw the "Face Changing" exhibit, she excitedly exclaimed, "Uncle George just read me a book about this!" Before I could hear anymore, I was led away, leaving Kelly with our handler, Houston.

I was then quickly taken to Bush’s Residence Office, which here-to-fore was unfamiliar to me. Although it had slate blue, plush carpets and fine furnishings like the White House office, lattice work and smaller rooms provided a different air. I sat in a hard-back wooden chair as ordered, while Bush carefully positioned himself in front of me on a little wooden footstool. This allowed me clear visibility of the large book that he held in his lap.
 
All illustrations faced me, while all text except the last page was printed in the holder’s direction. This book was a unique, high tech piece of art specifically designed to enforce Bush’s favorite method of programming, "You Are What You Read". The juvenile face depicted on the front of this hardcover book gave it the appearance of a children’s storybook. It was entitled "About Faces".

Bush explained the dynamics of "changing faces" and "becoming what I read". Although I had been conditioned to this idea all of my life through Disney stories, The Wizard Of Oz, Alice In Wonderland, etc, I was not prepared for Bush’s version of "You Are What You Read" programming explanations.


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The illustrations themselves were elaborate, consisting of mirrors and hypnotic depictions. He seemingly made the book come alive in my mind as he read page after poetic page of hypnotic, metaphorical language, all the while creating powerful illusions. His impersonations of the characters further enhanced the desired affect of fantasy becoming reality. This extraordinary effort to scramble reality would have worked-perfectly-had it not been for another victim and myself discussing it only a few days later.

The purpose of Bush’s book was dearly explained within the first few pages, which included the following passage:

I am the Vice President when circumstance demands,
And I am your Commander, you’ll follow my commands.
The first command’s important - It is one you will heed,
When I send you a book, you are what you read.

Throughout my tenure as a Presidential Model mind-controlled slave, I was provided specific books according to Bush’s program. These books, delivered through pre-established channels such as Ken Riley, Alex Houston, and even Ronald Reagan, came complete with specific commands on how they were to be interpreted and used. Some books were used to instruct me on operations; somewhere an attempt to scramble my memory with fantasy; others were used to load my mind with pertinent data such as bank account passbook numbers, and so on.


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I was provided a paperback book entitled Afghanistan, from which I absorbed history, current political events, and the strength of the Afghany Freedom Fighters. I have since learned that the book I read was never publicly released in the text it was provided me. According to instruction, the book was delivered back to Bush as quickly as I finished memorizing it, I wonder in retrospect if any part of it contained fact beyond how I was supposed to perceive it.

I read stories of espionage, including Robert Ludlum’s Bourne Identity, and William Diehl’s Chameleon. Mostly I was provided steamy sex novels for further training as well as scrambles. Kelly was conditioned to fairy tales, Steven Spielberg’s ET, NASA NSA operative George Lucas’ Star Wars, and the nightmarish Never Ending Story. Steinbeck’s classic Of Mice and Men caused Kelly constantly to quote the dependant character of Lenny for years saying, "Tell me what to do, George".

She still does this each and every time I am allowed to visit with her in the mental institution. The attending therapist over-seeing the visit has yet to pick up on this programming cue, and I am forbidden by Juvenile Court order not to discuss Kelly’s past or therapy.

Bush’s most effective example of "You Are What You Read" in his book About Faces occurred during his reading of the page depicting lizard-like "aliens" from a "far-off, deep space place", Claiming to me to be an alien himself, Bush apparently activated a hologram of the lizard-like "alien" which provided the illusion of Bush transforming like a chameleon before my eyes. In retrospect, I understand that Bush had been painstakingly careful in positioning our seats in order that the hologram’s effectiveness be maximized.


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U.S. Army Lt. Col. Aquino’s occultism provided trauma sufficient to maintain my Project Monarch Mind-Controlled existence despite his inability to affect my core spirituality. Therefore, I was not routinely subjected to the other favorite "trauma of choice"-alien themes-lite many slaves (including Kelly) I knew had been.
 
The effect of Bush’s illusion hologram on such victims is binding and strong. Even Aquino envied the mind shattering effects of Bush’s alien theme visual traumas to the extent that he wrote and published his own comic book sequel to Lucas’ Star Wars. While occultism is easily dispelled with reason and fact, Bush’s alien theme continues to be reinforced through NASA’s involvement in mind-control atrocities.


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The late Senator Alan Cranston


Additionally, California’s 24-year incumbent Senator Alan Cranston of the Select Committee on Intelligence has perpetuated this trauma base for decades, as have others. Despite my having escaped routine "alien" theme traumas, Bush’s "You Are What You Read" hologram proved devastatingly sufficient for him to gain total control of my robotic mind from that moment on until my rescue in 1988.

By the time Bush reached the last page of his About Faces book, I was so traumatized I instantly "became what I read" when I read the last verse aloud as ordered:

I am a True Patriot living an American Dream,
I will become my role when you pull my string.
I will become my part, so I can ’be all I can be’
’Cause just like the Vice President, I am what I read.

[Bluegreen]

IN THE MEANTIME

Chapter 18

My life seemed to lead me at an accelerated pace after being subjected to Reagan and Bush. My handler, Alex Houston, egotistically claimed it was his and Elmer’s (his alter-ego dummy) popularity that kept us traveling so extensively within the country music circuit. When we weren’t traveling the Caribbean and Mexico via NCL ships, or driving his cocaine loaded motor home to strategically booked shows across the U.S., we were routinely moving in and out of Washington, D.C.
 
All along the way, my daughter and I were either prostituted, used in commercial pornography, or filmed in Michael Dante’s "Chief" bestiality pornography as ordered by Uncle Ronnie Reagan.

Occasionally our travels would take us to Michigan, where Houston made certain we stayed with my family. Trips to my father’s house were devastating but informative. My mother had developed deep, psychological scars above and beyond her own MPD condition and became an insomniac. My father by this time was routinely traveling to London, Germany, and Mexico, and taking the family to Florida’s Disney World and Washington, D.C.
 
My older brother, Hill, still worked for and with my father, traveled with him annually to "hunt" in Cheney’s Greybull, Wyoming lodge, and maintained his wife and three children under trauma-base mind control according to my father’s instructions. My brother, Mike, ran a video store to front some of my father’s and Uncle Bob Tanis’ lucrative porn video business.
 
My sister, Kelli Jo, became a belly dancing contortionist excelling in "gymnastics" since she became "as flexible as Gumby" according to her prostitution programming. She worked her way through school in children’s day-care centers, admittedly spotting, for my father, abused children for potential "chosen ones" candidates. In 1990 she graduated to open a licensed day-care, "Little Learners" in Grand Haven, Michigan for my father.
 
My brother, Tom (Beaver), is a Compu-Kids (CIA Project) programmed computer genius. My brother Tim broke his leg (in the same place my mother had broken her leg years before) due to following my father’s sports programming above and beyond human capability. And my youngest sister, Kimmy, became hysterically obsessed with "Mr. Rogers," expressed immense fear of her huge "electric" doll house that lit up at night to look like the White House, and was under a doctor’s care for anorexia by age seven, I look forward to the day I can help them all, and justice is served on my father.

Since I was using parts of my brain I would not have used under normal circumstances, I developed the ability to read backwards as naturally as I could read forwards. Houston tapped into this typically occult-based phenomenon as a means of "scrambling" road signs to promote amnesia of where we were traveling. He further compounded his effort by conditioning me to read phonetically and literally, and alternated his "scrambling" methods.


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"Zoo" became "ooz" and "ooz" translated to "oz". Arkansas read "Our Kansas", and Missouri became (and was!) "Misery". East became West, and highway 66 became 99. When I traveled, I "literally" did not consciously know if I were coming or going. If an outsider happened to ask me about where I’d traveled, I mechanically replied, "The towns all run together and look alike after awhile."

Commands delivered in the same language twisting manner were natural for me to follow. "Role with it" was easier for me to become according to Reagan’s acting definition than it was to go with the flow by "rolling with it". Phrases like Wyoming Senator Alan Simpson’s "In a switch of an "I" (personality)/"eye" (hypnotic blink)/ "i" (the letter), complaint becomes compliant. The parts of my brain I was forced to function with were not conducive to "normal" thinking.

Nor could I have appeared "normal" to outsiders had they cared to see beyond my superficial programmed cover personality, I did have occasion to mix with "outsiders" at the local library where I took Kelly for her books on days when we were not traveling. By age 6, she tested at the 7th grade reading level. I also emerged from my closed environment to tend to Kelly’s schooling. She maintained straight A's, but her poor attendance record threatened to violate state requirements.
 
Once when the librarian asked where Kelly would be traveling to waive library book due dates, or the teacher inquired as to Kelly’s absences, I gave the usual response of, "the towns all run together and look alike after awhile." If they pressed for specifics, I ran through a series of religious phrases such as "praise the Lord ", to compensate for my lack of answers. People tended to overlook and accept "religious fanaticism" personality peculiarities, which combined with my "role" traveling the country music industry, kept outsiders at a distance for years.

My "religious fanatic" cover personality was cultivated at the Brentwood, Tennessee Lord’s Chapel "nondenominational" (Pentecostal) church, through the CIA Operative preacher - Reverend Billy Roy Moore (who has since fled to Arkansas due to a local murder scandal).


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The late Rev. Billy Roy Moore


Moore transported cocaine from the Caribbean for the CIA, at least during the Reagan Administration, under the guise of so-called "missions,"1 i.e., Christian ministries. It most likely was not the intent of the Christians dedicated to their Caribbean ministries to be used by the CIA and Moore to inadvertently mule drugs into our country. Even CIA agents operating under "need to know" partial information were denied the full scope of what they were actually participating in. Many seemingly willing participants were manipulated, provided "justification," and deliberately misled to believe they were serving their country, rather than destroying it from the inside out.

"Pastor" Moore combined his knowledge of Kelly’s and my programming keys, codes, and triggers with his use of metaphorical language to maintain and/or direct our mode of operation. Moore’s "following" consisted primarily of government mind-controlled slaves and handlers, including the Mandrells, Jack Greene and his slave, the Oak Ridge Boys, and others. He instructed us on how to vote, which political issues lo support, and to follow other "religious" political leaders such as his and Manuel Noriega’s friend, evangelist Jimmy Swaggart. "Religious counseling" from Moore equaled to maintaining mind- control programming through "God’s Orders", And "God’s Orders" often came by telephone.

Jack Greene

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Jimmy Swaggart
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Houston constantly prostituted Kelly to anyone "in the loop" who was willing to pay. When she wasn’t being prostituted, she was being filmed pornographically. By 1984, Michael Dante routinely filmed Kelly in pornography, since kiddie porn was as lucrative as bestiality. He filmed Kelly and me in Las Vegas, Nevada and various other locations throughout the Caribbean, California, Florida, Tennessee, and in my home state of Michigan.

This created professional conflict with long lime kiddie pornographers formerly associated with Houston. Houston’s close friend in Waycross, Georgia, pedophile Jimmy Walker, managed the Okefenokee Swamp Park and had participated in black budget funding operations for years on both the cocaine and pornography levels. His counterpart, Dick Flood, refused to participate to any more pornography after Dante came on the scene.
 
Even the Huntsville, Alabama NASA/DIA/CIA-appointed "law enforcement" officers could rarely succeed in their bidding for Kelly’s video taped performances unless directly ordered by Senator Byrd. Dante considered himself her future owner as well as mine, and maintained control of our porn "business" ventures through serious U.S. Government and international Mafia methodisms/ connections.

Jimmy Walker, the same photographer who had taken pornographic "wedding night" pictures for Larry Flynt, recently had other photographs of me published in Hustler magazine. When Dante found out, he was furious. Hustler publisher Larry Flynt and Dante both worked for the CIA, had Vatican and Mafia connections, and deliberately appealed to Reagan’s perversions using project Monarch Mind-Controlled slaves.


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What Flynt could not "legally" publish, Dante ran through the underground. Flynt and Dante lived on opposite coasts, which, despite their similarities, still was not far enough apart to sooth their differences. Waving his hands in dramatic Italian gestures. Dante furiously spouted a string of obscenities over Flynt’s publishing photos of what he deemed "his property."

Accusing Flynt of going to extremes to gain favor/protection from the government, Dante shouted, "He’s a bigger whore than the girls he promotes!"

Michael Dante’s pornographic filming abilities served several purposes. Aside from producing porn according to Reagan’s own (well known) perversions and instructions, Dante was present during many key international government "gatherings". Oftentimes when I and others were prostituted to various government (New World Order) leaders, Dante had hidden cameras filming perverse sexual acts apparently for future blackmail leverage. These
videos were scandalous in proportion and were usually ordered by Reagan.

Dante turned the videos over to Reagan, and covertly kept copies to protect himself. Dante converted a small room of his Beverly Hills mansion into a security vault, where he kept his personal copies of the international blackmail porn tapes there.

Among these internationally scandalous tapes are numerous videos covertly produced at the supposedly secure political sex playground in northern California, Bohemian Grove. According to Houston, Dante’s high tech undetectable cameras used fiber optics, and fish-eye lens were in each of the elite club’s numerous sexual perversion theme rooms. My knowledge of these cameras was due to the strategically compromising positions of the political perpetrators I was prostituted to in the various kinky theme rooms.

I was programmed and equipped to function in all rooms at Bohemian Grove in order to compromise specific government targets according to their personal perversions. "Anything, anytime, anywhere with anyone" was my mode of operation at the Grove. I do not purport to understand the full function of this political cesspool playground as my perception was limited to my own realm of experience.
 
My perception is that Bohemian Grove serves those ushering in the New World Order through mind control, and consists primarily of the highest Mafia and U.S. Government officials. I do not use the term "highest" loosely, as copious quantities of drugs were consumed there. Project Monarch Mind Control slaves were routinely abused there to fulfill the primary purpose of the club: purveying perversion.

Bohemian Grove is reportedly intended to be used recreationally, providing a supposedly secure environment for politically affluent individuals to "party" without restraint. The only business conducted there pertained to implementing the New World Order, through the proliferation of mind-control atrocities, giving the place an air of "Masonic Secrecy". The only room where business discussions were permitted was the small, dark lounge affectionately and appropriately referred to as the Underground.

Sex slaves were not routinely permitted in the Underground for security reasons, leaving the lounge’s small stage as the only source of "entertainment". This entertainment ranged from would-be talents such as Lee Atwater, Bill Clinton, and George Bush to CIA Operative entertainers such as Boxcar Willie and Lee Greenwood, On one occasion I was instructed to meet with former President Gerald Ford in the Underground where Lee Atwater was picking and singing.
 
As I waited through the smoke-filled room to Ford’s table, Atwater interrupted his song to cryptically acknowledge my unwelcome presence by singing choruses of "Over the Rainbow" and Byrd’s song for me "Country Roads" while emphasizing the lines of "Almost heaven, West Virginia".

My purpose at the Grove was sexual in nature, and therefore my perceptions were limited to a sex slave’s viewpoint. As an effective means of control to ensure undetected proliferation of their perverse indulgences, slaves such as myself were subjected to ritualistic trauma. I knew each breath I took could be my last, as the threat of death lurked in every shadow.

Slaves of advancing age or with failing programming were sacrificially murdered "at random" in the wooded grounds of Bohemian Grave, and I fell it was "simply a matter of time until it would be me". Rituals were held at a giant, concrete owl monument on the banks of, ironically enough, the Russian (rushin’) River. These occultish sex rituals stemmed from the scientific belief that mind-controlled slaves required severe trauma to ensure compartmentalization of the memory, and not from any spiritual motivation.

My own threat of death was instilled when I witnessed the sacrificial death of a young, dark-haired victim at which time I was instructed to perform sexually "as though my life depended upon it". I was told,

"...the next sacrifice victim could be you. Anytime when you least expect it, the owl will consume you. Prepare yourself, and stay prepared."

Being "prepared" equated to being totally suggestible, i.e., "on my toes" awaiting their command.

After returning to Tennessee, Houston attempted to distort my Bohemian Grove experience by instructing me to "prepare myself for imminent death". He ordered me into a bathtub of cold water, placed ice cubes in my vagina, then transferred me to his bed. There he tied a coroner’s type tag on my toe, and hypnotically deepened my trance to the point where my heart and breathing were nearly stopped.
 
Then he gratified himself on my cold, still body through faux necrophilia—reportedly one of his favorite perversions. Houston had "perfected" his perversion to the extent that he handed the keys to my death-state programming to Lt. Col. Michael Aquino for use in Reagan’s Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations. My death-state also further equipped me in my role of "anything, anytime, anywhere with anyone" to be accessed at Bohemian Grove.

The club offered a "Necrophilia" theme room to its members. I was so heavily drugged and programmed when used in the "necrophilia" room, that the threat of actually "slipping through death’s door" and being sacrificed "before I knew it" did not affect me. My whole existence was balanced precariously on the edge of death as a matter of routine anyway.


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My robotic state did not permit me the "luxury" of self-preservation, and I could only do exactly what I was told to do. My necrophilia room experience was only for the purpose of providing Dante a compromising film of a targeted member anyway.

Other perversion theme rooms at the Bohemian Club included what I heard Ford refer to as the "Dark Room". When he not so cleverly said, "Let’s go to the Dark Room and see what develops," I understood from experience that he was interested in indulging in his perverse obsession for pornography. In the Dark Room, members had sex with the same mind-controlled slave they were viewing in porn on a big screen television.

There was a triangular glass display centered in a main through way where I was locked in with various trained animals, including snakes. Members walking by watched elicit sex acts of bestiality, women with women, mothers with daughters, kids with kids, or any other unlimited perverse visual display.

I was once brutally assaulted by Dick Cheney in the Leather Room, which was designed tike a dark, black leather-lined train berth. As I crawled through the leather flaps covering the narrow entrance, I heard Cheney play on the word "berth/birth" as the soft blackness engulfed me. With the small opening covered, the blinding darkness enhanced the sense of touch and provided an option of anonymity. Cheney jokingly claimed that I "blew his cover" when I recognized his all-too-familiar voice and abnormally large penis size.

There was a room of shackles and tortures, black lights and strobes, an opium den, ritualistic sex altars, a chapel, group orgy rooms including poster beds, water beds, and "kitten" houses. I was used as a "rag doll" in the "toy store," and as a urinal in the "golden arches" room.

From the owl’s roost to the necrophilia room, no memory of sexual abuse is as horrifying as the conversations overheard in the Underground pertaining to implementing the New World Order. I learned that perpetrators believed that controlling the masses through propaganda mind manipulation did not guarantee there would be a world left to dominate due to environmental and overpopulation problems.
 
The solution being debated was not pollution/population control, but mass genocide of "selected undesirables."

[Bluegreen]

E.T. PHONE ROME

Chapter 19

Anyone attending the Bohemian Grove on a regular basis was referred to by those in the know as a "Grover". One such Grover was Ronald Reagan’s then- Secretary of Education, Bill Bennett, who later became "Drug Czar" during the Bush Administration, wrote the so-called Book of Virtues and was/is? vying for the office of President. Bennett is apparently very close to his brother and fellow Grover, Bob Bennett. Although Bob Bennett holds the position of Legal Counsel to President Clinton, it is apparent that the brothers recognize no party lines.


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When Drug Czar Bill Bennett shut down the marijuana trade in America, cocaine became cheaper than water.


It was clear to me that there were no partisan differences amongst those ushering in the New World Order, any more than there was loyalty to our Constitution. The close relationship I witnessed between the Bennett brothers, like the marriage between Clinton’s and Bush’s 1992 campaign managers James Carville and Mary Matlin, should raise questions as to their agenda.


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Two sides of the same coin


When Bill and Bob Bennett together sexually assaulted my daughter, Kelly, and me at the Bohemian Grove in 1986, I had already known Bill Bennett as a mind-control programmer for some time. Bennett anchored his Jesuit/Vatican based programming of me in my Catholic conditioning initially instilled via the Rite to Remain Silent.


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The late Senator from Utah Bob Bennett


Through further manipulation of my "inner-dimensional" perceptions, Bennett believed he had forever compartmentalized his personal secrets of perverse sex with his brother, Bob, and my then six-year-old daughter. Bennett also had manipulated my mind in accordance with Vatican "Orders" via Byrd’s Jesuit College programming center in West Virginia. He used his role as Jesuit programmer for the purposes of carrying out his efforts as Education Secretary to implement Education 2000.

In order to program my mind for my role in bringing Education 2000 into the "Volunteer State" of Tennessee’s school system, Bennett used sophisticated mind manipulation to set the stage—the same kind of mind manipulation propaganda executed on national and international scale, Bennett’s penchant for manipulating minds is apparently rooted in his knowledge of Catholic/Jesuit mind-control techniques.

When I met Bennett at a White House cocktail party in 1984, I was wearing the rosy cross necklace that Guy VanderJagt and Father Don had presented to me during my first communion, to signify the mode of program I was operating under at the time. Byrd had ordered that I wear it for the occasion.

Byrd was already talking with Bennett when a White House butler led me in to see Byrd. Byrd was saying,

"I was just talking about you with my friend, Secretary of Education William Bennett."

"Bill," Bennett corrected, sweeping his lecherous gaze over me as though I were merchandise. "How do you do?"
 
"As I am told, thank you," I said as I extended my hand as trained.

Bennett clumsily fingered the rosy cross necklace, blowing his alcoholic breath in my face as he said, "Your necklace is as beautiful as you are, and no doubt, as significant in purpose. Where did this come from and what does it mean to you?"

"From my first communion," I responded. "Guy (Byrd interrupted to clarify ’VanderJagt’) gave it to me to consummate my holy communion."

Byrd corrected me, "Commemorate your holy communion."
 
"She doesn’t need a translator, Bobby," Bennett laughed, "I’m hearing her loud and clear."

Byrd left me with Bennett, who went into a long winded recitation on an interpretation of the Bible deliberately intended to further distort my Catholic instilled perceptions. "Christ was an alien in this land," he was saying in accordance with his learned Jesuit mind manipulation techniques.

"Once he landed in Earth’s plane, it was plain to see he was a leader in interdimensional travel, We (Jesuits/aliens) followed his lead since he was the first to slip into Earth’s dimension. In Christ’s transformation from porpoise 4 to purpose, he lost his will to Earth’s demands. He lost his porpoise, so to speak."

Totally "trance-fixed," I listened as Bennett rallied on and on.

"When Christ emerged from the deep to inhale of Earth’s atmosphere, time began ticking. It was not recognized or acknowledged until Christ’s passing, however. We began marking time with his death. BC-AD-or is that AC-DC?"

Referring to high voltage used to compartmentalize memory, he continued,

"No, AC in DC stops time. At any rate, we followed his lead, He referred to you as sheep. He knew you needed to be led. He led us. He led you. He led us to you. We’re here to lead you. The transformation is perfected now, updated with the latest in alien technologies whereby we no longer have to follow Christ’s course to the grave. We can transcend dimensions free of the confines of Earth’s gravitational pull. The time is now, and we are here to lead you. We know your mind. That’s how we make you mind. Make you mine. Make you a mind. Make you mine. Journey with me now..."


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Bennett manipulated my perceptions until, at last, he informed me, "You and I will be working closely together on a global education project." Sweeping his hand around the crowded room, he continued,

"This atmosphere is not conductive to the kind of work we need to be doing. Something else just came up that demands immediate attention. Let’s complete tonight’s business with pleasure, beat it out of this dimension, suspend your suspended animation, and get with the program."

In one of many White House bedrooms available for such purposes, Bennett led me into bed.

I told you we were going to beat it out of this dimension, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. A little Byrd told me you like a whip. Since I am not the Senate kind, I’ll just represent the majority by giving you what you need most.

Bennett apparently found perverse pleasure in whipping me. With my wrists bruised and my body slinging with pain, Bennett lit up a cigarette and cryptically asked,
"Was that your first cum-union with an alien?" He threw me my clothes, and ordered, "Make yourself presentable. Make sure your wrists are covered. I’m not waiting around for you, I’ll see you in THE morning."

Bennett left. After awhile I was escorted back to Byrd, with whom I spent a brutal, short night. On the way to his room, Byrd told me,

"You’ve got work to do come morning with Mr. Bennett. Working for him is like working for me. We are working in conjunction with the state Governors in an effort to implement the global 2000 education formula for the future. I am excited at the prospect of meddling in the future through what I accomplish today. Since I hold this country’s purse strings, it is up to me to delegate as much funding as is necessary to implement the educational program. I’ve withheld funding and withheld funding to the point where the individual states must rely on federal funding to get them out of hot water financially.
 
I am ready to do just that so long as they follow my guidelines. Mr. Bennett is working out the details of this plan, and will be sharing much of that with you. I need you to do what you do best by enlisting the full cooperation of state government at the upcoming Governor’s Convention. I have never demanded Conventional sex of you before, but this time is different. Persuade these Governors at their weakest moment—bring them to their knees while you are on yours, and convince them that global education is the gateway to the future if there is to be any future at all."

Early the next morning, deep underground in the NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center mind-control lab near D.C., Bill Bennett began preparing me for the program. NASA uses various "CIA designer drugs" to chemically alter the brain and create exactly the mind set required at the time, Huntsville, Alabama’s NASA drug of choice, "Train-quility," created a feeling of absolute, peaceful compliance and a sensation of walking on air.


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NASA Goddard Space Flight Center – Greenbelt, Maryland


The drug administered this time was sufficiently similar to Tranquility to create total compliance. The bearing I had endured the night before had rendered me helpless, anyway, and I could barely crawl up onto the cold, metal lab table as the drug took effect.

In the darkness surrounding me, I could hear Bill Bennett talking, "This is my brother, Bob. He and I work as one unit. We are alien to this dimension - two beings from another plane."

The high-tech light display swirling around me convinced me I was transforming dimensions with them, A laser of light hit the black wall in front of me, which seemed to explode into a panoramic view of a White House cocktail party-as though I had transformed dimensions and stood amongst them.
 
Not recognizing anyone, I frantically asked,

"Who are these people?"

"They’re not people, and this isn’t a spaceship," Bennett said. As he spoke, the holographic scene changed ever so slightly until the people appeared to be lizard-like aliens. Welcome to the second level of the underground. This level is a mere/(mirror) reflection of the first, an alien dimension. We are from a transdimensional plane that spans and encompasses all dimensions."

"Infinite dimensions," Bob injected, "Infinite dimensions spanned simultaneously" Bill said, "No limitations".

Bob softly sang, "Let freedom ring".

"There truly is no where to run and no where to hide from us. We’re who is looking from behind the Eye in the Sky," Bill continued, "We’re watching you," Bob said. He sang a line from the popular rock song "I’ll Be Watching You".

"I have taken you through my dimension as a means of establishing stronger holds on your mind than the Earth’s plane permits," Bill Bennett was saying. "Being alien, I simply make my thoughts your thoughts by projecting them into your mind. My thoughts are your thoughts."

The brief message Bennett programmed me with pertaining to Education2000 was to be directed to state Governors at the upcoming convention while delivering a packet of information:

"The children. We must consider the children. Think for a moment beyond tomorrow. Our children are the future. Their future lies in education. We can control the future today by regulating education. Our thoughts and plans for the future-put in their text. A text they can understand. Children’s textbooks. The highest levels of government, the most brilliant minds on the face of this Earth would like input into the future by way of the children. You, as Governor, are in a position to provide that link. Global Education 2000 is ready for implementation. Look into it. Look into it and see the future."


pmDkqv5QmN4

[waves]

I've been getting these 'updates' and after skimming so many chapters years after first encountering Cathy's stuff it's making me rethink. Does Cathy say she kept an extremely detailed diary all those years? Because if not, something is very improbable. I have no doubts about the depth of perversion in those political ranks, but how's your memory of whole verbatim paragraphs/conversations that you had with numerous people months/years ago? It's just not possible.

Therefore this now reads to me as a very neat and tidy calculated narrative, as if the political machinations she 'overhears' a lot and relates verbatim are just that, calculated rhetoric embedded in salaciousness meant to reinforce a narrative. It just doesn't seem possible for anyone to remember so much verbatim from past years, let alone during times of having supposedly switched to an alter designed to dissociate and not remember!

We can argue how much other supportive testimony is out there, but it still doesn't validate all the probability holes in this story as presented. So what would it mean? Was this book Cathy still being used to present historical cover stories? And/or to scare people with how evil and ugly their enemy is? It just now seems there's something else beside face value going on.

[Mike]

I've been getting these 'updates' and after skimming so many chapters years after first encountering Cathy's stuff it's making me rethink. Does Cathy say she kept an extremely detailed diary all those years? Because if not, something is very improbable. I have no doubts about the depth of perversion in those political ranks, but how's your memory of whole verbatim paragraphs/conversations that you had with numerous people months/years ago? It's just not possible.

Therefore this now reads to me as a very neat and tidy calculated narrative, as if the political machinations she 'overhears' a lot and relates verbatim are just that, calculated rhetoric embedded in salaciousness meant to reinforce a narrative. It just doesn't seem possible for anyone to remember so much verbatim from past years, let alone during times of having supposedly switched to an alter designed to dissociate and not remember!

We can argue how much other supportive testimony is out there, but it still doesn't validate all the probability holes in this story as presented. So what would it mean? Was this book Cathy still being used to present historical cover stories? And/or to scare people with how evil and ugly their enemy is? It just now seems there's something else beside face value going on.


It's an interesting point. I read the book years ago and all the repetitive subliminal stuff about the Wizard Of Oz and so forth became so mentally deadening that I had to give it up. It took me several tries to get thru it. It wasn't the abuse that I couldn't stomach, it was the relentless use of coded language to trigger this personality or that one that finally wore me out.

Even if I was that sexually depraved and evil I don't think I could keep up that charade. It's just exhausting. Those freaks are dedicated. You have to give them that.

Not that I'm qualified in any way, but if I were to attempt to answer your question I think I'd say that Cathy's memory was uber enhanced by all her MK Ultra and Project Monarch programming. I'd have to revisit the book, but I want to say that her mind was built to remember things in excruciating detail.

[bluestflame]

I've been getting these 'updates' and after skimming so many chapters years after first encountering Cathy's stuff it's making me rethink. Does Cathy say she kept an extremely detailed diary all those years? Because if not, something is very improbable. I have no doubts about the depth of perversion in those political ranks, but how's your memory of whole verbatim paragraphs/conversations that you had with numerous people months/years ago? It's just not possible.

Therefore this now reads to me as a very neat and tidy calculated narrative, as if the political machinations she 'overhears' a lot and relates verbatim are just that, calculated rhetoric embedded in salaciousness meant to reinforce a narrative. It just doesn't seem possible for anyone to remember so much verbatim from past years, let alone during times of having supposedly switched to an alter designed to dissociate and not remember!

We can argue how much other supportive testimony is out there, but it still doesn't validate all the probability holes in this story as presented. So what would it mean? Was this book Cathy still being used to present historical cover stories? And/or to scare people with how evil and ugly their enemy is? It just now seems there's something else beside face value going on.

she was used as a " human harddrive " heal the trauma that was used to cause dissociation and the abilities are then accessable

[Bluegreen]

NEW WORLD ORDER OF THE ROSE

Chapter 20


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Still feeling drugged from the programming session instilled in me by Bill Bennett at the nearby Goddard Space Flight Center, I attended a White House cocktail party later that night as instructed.

Dressed "to Order," I wore a slinky, black dress that gathered at one hip decorated in rubies, with a red rose barrette in my hair. "The Chief called for her," my Secret Service escort told the butler as he left me at the door. The lights were dim and the air was formal as the butler led me through the unusually large crowd of people. He released my elbow, aiming me in the direction of then President Ronald Reagan.

As I walked through the crowd toward Reagan, I saw familiar faces associated with the ’’Order of the Rose." Across the room, Bill and Bob Bennett were laughing with Dick Cheney. Then-Governor of Pennsylvania Dick Thornburgh was engaged in conversation with Senator Arlen Spector. Within the farthest reaches of my expanded peripheral vision, I saw George Bush talking with his U.N. confidant Madeleine Albright . Knowing I could see him as though I had eyes in the back of my head, Bush subtly signaled me to join them.

"You know Madeleine Albright," Bush began. Expertly using terminology from previously instilled Catholic Jesuit beliefs, he continued, "She’s the reverend mother of all sisters (slaves). She’s so close to God that an order from her is an order from Him."
 
Albright snickered, apparently impressed with Bush’s "witty" manipulation of program verbiage. "She rose in the U.N. through me to implement the New World peace process."

Albright said to me, "I hear you’re a world (whirled?) piece".

"Who told you that?" Bush demanded.

"Larry Flynt, for her stint in Jamaica ," she quickly explained.

Bush threw up his hand in apparent disgust at the idea of sex relating to someone with two digits in their age.

"Spare me," he said.

"That’s my job," Albright said matter-of-factly with a smile of pride. She shooed me away while condescendingly saying,

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the OAS (Organization of American States) office. Now, you run along and go play."


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Noting that her nonspecific orders left me unable to determine which way to turn, literally, she aimed me back in the direction of Reagan.

Reagan was dressed in a dark, navy blue suit and red silk tie. His red rosebud boutonniere instantly triggered me into a Jesuit "Order of the Rose" sex slave mode.


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"Well, hello, Kitten," Reagan said, blowing his cognac breath in my face as he bent over to kiss my hand.

"Uncle Ronnie..." I said, sexually responding as conditioned.

Reagan turned to the man beside him and said, "Brian, this is one more of those benefits of the New World Order I was telling you about. Kitten, this is Brian Mulroney, Prime Minister of Canada."

The connotations of my childhood experience with the former Prime Minister of Canada, Pierre Trudeau, suggested that Mulroney was Jesuit—as did the mode I was operating in. He, too, was wearing a red rose boutonnière signifying his involvement and commitment to the Order of the Rose.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir," I said as I extended my hand.

"The pleasure is mine," Mulroney said as he kissed my hand, "Please, call me Brian."

"Yes, Sir, Brian," I responded, my brain still whirling with the NASA designer drugs.


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Chuckling but insistent, Mulroney reiterated, "I am not a Sir".

Reagan jumped in, "He is a Prime Minister, which means he is more important than your average Minister, and certainly more important than any Sir. Brian is my friend."

"Oh, Brian," I said, finally understanding,

"O’Brien is her father’s name," Reagan told Mulroney, "She is of Irish descent and hails from Michigan." Brian turned to me, "I’ve been in your neck of the woods here recently-in one of my favorite get-aways-on Mackinac Island."

"Mackinac Island was her launch point into the project," Reagan explained in terms used by those familiar with mind-control operations.

Mulroney apparently was aware of my mind-controlled state and leered at me as though I were merchandise, Reagan noticed his interest and proceeded to function in the capacity of a pimp.

"I highly recommend you take her along with the rest. She is an excellent game piece for you to use in any position. And there’s security. Her head is in the ethers and come tomorrow, she wouldn’t knew you from the man in the moon. I’ll give you the keys later."

Expertly using Order of the Rose signals and triggers, Mulroney said,

"Just give me the key to her heart, and she’s mine."

"You are wise in the ways of the world," Reagan commented.

"I have to be on top of things. It’s a New World Order," Mulroney said matter-of-factly. As a guard led me away, I heard Reagan tell Mulroney, "You will be on top of the world soon".

I was searched by uniformed Canadian bodyguards and pointed in the direction of one of the White House’s many bedroom suites. When I opened the door, I saw three blonde sex slaves undressing and preparing the bed—one of whom was my close friend and Senator Arlen Spector’s slave.

I excitedly called my friend’s name.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as we hugged each other.

"Small world," she said, as she always did when we were thrust together in various places for prostitution and/or pornography. This universal term was often used among those familiar with the Small, Small World Disney-developed mind-control program.

I hugged my friend again, "Wow, it is a small world. I’m so glad you’re here." I had no comprehension of our predicament and could not see beyond the moment.

"Hell girls! It is a small world!" Mulroney entered and strode across the room, tossing his coat on a chair and loosening his tie. "Watch it get smaller and smaller as we rocket further and further away."


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He slipped out of his shoes, suspenders, and pants while he continued his hypnotic metaphors. "Soaring through the sea of black space. As the world gets smaller and smaller and smaller, then sinks into the black sea of space."
 
Removing his boxer shorts, he announced, "I brought you here for a purpose..." and proceeded to access our sex programming.

In retrospect I know it was no coincidence that my friend and I were brought together to satisfy Brian Mulroney’s perversion for mind-controlled slaves. Identically mirror programmed, we operated in unison. The delicate red rose tattoo on my friend’s left wrist signified her enslavement to the (New World ) Order of the Rose to which Mulroney belonged.

My friend and her young daughter reportedly were often transported across the U.S.-Canadian border at Niagara Falls for prostitution to Mulroney. The sexual abuse of her precious child was used as a trauma base to maintain control of her mind just as Kelly’s abuse traumatized me, Mulroney had previously accessed sex programming at Niagara Falls in my friend and me-along with our daughters-to satisfy his sanctioned perversions as though it were "business as usual".

Had I been capable of connecting events, I would have felt enormous relief that our daughters were not forced to participate in his sexual assault this time.

"Mission" complete, I slipped on my dress and prepared to leave, Mulroney pointed to me and cryptically said, "I’ll be seeing you around. Maybe I’ll see you in Mackinac. May be. Somewhere in time."

In three lines, Mulroney expertly tied the immediate moment to childhood cues and current Mexican NAFTA operations, as well as prepared me for my next encounter with him on Mackinac Island.


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[Bluegreen]

GLOBAL EDUCATION 2000

Chapter 21

My programmed role toward implementing Education 2000 according to the plans of those ushering in the New World Order brought me back in contact with former Governor of Tennessee, Lamar Alexander, and eventually Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney. I had met Lamar Alexander in 1973, at a satanic ritual I was subjected to in an affluent neighborhood of Nashville, Tennessee.


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Lamar Alexander - Ned McWherter


Lamar Alexander presided over this sex-oriented occult ritual with full understanding of my Project Monarch Mind-Control victimization and the impact his actions were having on my mind. It was my experience then, and intermittently throughout the years, that Lamar Alexander’s sexual perversion was to bring his victim to the point of death through oral suffocation.

During the course of publicly exposing Tennessee’s need for education reform as instructed, I was in contact with Commissioners, Superintendents, Mayors, and Lamar Alexander. Lamar Alexander, who followed Bennett as Bush’s Secretary of Education, worked in close association with Bill Bennett to manipulate the minds of the masses to accept Education 2000 as the ONLY means of education reform.
 
When Ned McWherter was moved into the office of Governor to rubber stamp federal projects, Lamar Alexander maintained influence over state politics. At the same time, he maintained influence over national politics through his role as chairman of the National Governor’s Association in 1986.

As the 1984 Governor’s Convention drew near, I met with Lamar Alexander at the Stockyard nightclub where he was drinking with his long time associate and partner-in-crime, Nashville’s Mayor Richard Fulton. In the basement bar of this old, converted stockyard was a modified antique "Shoe Shine" booth, where the term took on new meaning. A key to a private shoeshine booth could be obtained by those in the know through Stockyard owner, Buddy Killen.


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The late Buddy Killen


This closet-sized booth was lined in mirrors and had a small bench where Lamar Alexander sat after our business was concluded. I knelt at his feet as ordered to perform oral sex. Programmed sex slaves such as myself were trained to go long periods of time without drawing a breath, and users such as Alexander stretched this time to the maximum.

On this occasion, Alexander apparently exceeded the maximum. I do not recall completion of my programmed task. It was after hours when my mind- control handler, Alex Houston, dragged my limp body from the booth, roused me, and ordered me out of the building. Buddy Killen opened a back door that once was a cattle run, and Houston half-dragged me out the back exit unseen.

The night of the Convention, Alex Houston’s youngest daughter, Bonnie, was to join me. Bonnie and I were close to the same age, and together we dressed for the occasion. As a prostitute, Bonnie was familiar with Lamar Alexander and his perversions but nevertheless was excited at the prospect of seeing "old friends" at the Convention via Louise Mandrell, who would be entertaining there. The comradery between Alex Houston and Mandrell that developed during Bob Hope’s U.S.O. tours in the 1960s lasted for decades due to their shared involvement in running mind-controlled slaves for Byrd.

Bonnie shared in this friendship with the Mandrells and was looking forward to seeing her "friends" in the band.

I, too, was looking forward to talking with Louise Mandrell, but for a very different reason. Barbara had just endured her near-fatal car crash, and I was deeply concerned for her welfare. Throughout the 1980s while traveling under the guise of the Country Music Industry, Alex Houston toured with Barbara and/or Louise Mandrell on a regular basis. Occasionally Barbara and I saw each other in "church," the Hendersonville Lord’s Chapel.
 
This church was an offshoot of Billy Roy Moore’s Lord’s Chapel, and was pastored by his mind-controlled slave, Mike Nelson, who became close friends with Barbara. Alex Houston and I were present when Mike Nelson broke program, and attempted to flee for his Life with Barbara Mandrell. The pastor was subdued with a stun gun and immediately relieved of his position, while Barbara frantically sought answers to the questions the two of them had managed to raise.


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Too hot for Louise – 1984


Alex Houston was touring with Louise Mandrell in 1984 when Louise had a "premonition" of Barbara’s imminent demise—much the same way Loretta Lynn "psychically predicted" her son’s murder. Like the murders of Loretta’s son and Country Music entertainer Keith Whitley, I was aware of Barbara’s planned accident before it occurred due to Alex Houston’s direct involvement.

These traumas were also used as a means of locking in my mind-controlled belief that I had "no where to run and no where to hide". Worst of all, I could not think to speak of what I knew due to my own absolute mind control. While Barbara physically survived her ordeal, her voice was silenced as planned.

When Bonnie and I arrived at Opryland Hotel, we hurried to the ballroom where Louise Mandrell would be performing. My concern for Barbara detracted me from my appointment with Lamar Alexander until one of Louise’s dancers who knew of my role put me "back on track".

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "You’re supposed to be at Rhett Butler’s restaurant NOW."

I hurried to the restaurant where Lamar Alexander was having dinner with Senator Byrd and several governors. Byrd was participating in the function for reasons unknown to me, but I was aware that he had fiddled at the Opry. Byrd stopped eating just long enough to acknowledge my presence,

"Where have you been?"

"I was checking on Barbara over at the show," I replied as Lamar Alexander excused himself and walked over.

Putting an arm around me and turning me away from the table, he whispered, "You could wind up just like her if you don’t get with the program. You’ve got programs to hand out. But right now, you’re interrupting my dinner. Have you had anything to drink?"

"No, Sir," I replied, traumatized at the magnitude of his threat.

Lamar Alexander instructed me to leave immediately, order a grasshopper from the conservatory bar, and wait for further instructions.
 
It was a matter of routine for me to order a "grasshopper" from Opryland Hotel’s conservatory. The ice cream "drink" was specially made—always with a hypnotic drug in it. As sometimes happened, the waitress was unfamiliar with the process, and conservatory harp player and CIA operative Lloyd Lindroth interceded. The drug had the same effect as that administered at the D.C. NASA programming center by Bennett, and my mode was robotic compliance.


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After the drug kicked in, Lloyd Lindroth instructed me to proceed to the main ballroom of the Hotel, where Lamar Alexander would be meeting me.

The outer lobby of the ballroom was decorated in wall-size murals that extended to the top of the gothic ceiling. A life-size steam engine depicted on the far wall appeared to be racing toward the grand staircase. I had seen the murals numerous times before, but never had they seemed so real as they did to me that night on the NASA drug. The heavy double doors leading to the ballroom caused me to feel very small as I pulled with all my strength to open it. Inside, the room was a sea of black suits and ties, and I was relieved when Lamar Alexander ushered me back out into the lobby.

Alexander positioned me near the train mural as a cryptic indicator to those in the know that I was a "trained" mind-controlled slave. I was provided a box of brown envelopes packed with the Education 2000 information I was to hand out to the governors.
 
Alexander instructed me on exactly what I was to say in conjunction with the message Bennett had programmed me with in D.C. Then he returned to the ballroom, where he apparently acted in the capacity of a pimp.

"Are you waiting on the train?" a paunchy governor asked, "No, Sir," I answered. Then, as instructed, I said, "But I do have a packet of information with your name on it. Shall I take it to your room for you?"

"Oh? And what is my name?" he asked.

"Governor," I responded. There actually were no names on the envelopes.

"Astute," he responded. "And what is it you have for me?"

"This packet," I answered, handing it to him. "And anything else you want compliments of Lamar Alexander and (tapped) Secretary of Education, Bill Bennett."

According to some of the men, Alexander had cued them as to my position. Others, such as then Governor of Pennsylvania, Dick Thornburgh and Ohio Governor Dick Celeste already knew me, "I’ve got a packet of information with your name on it.. "I was saying as I bent over to lift one from the box.

"I don’t think so," Governor Blanchard of Michigan interrupted. "Bill (Bennett) wouldn’t stoop so low as to insult me that way. I’m doing the same thing here you are, but from a very different approach. The figures I offer reflect the success of Education 2000 in the Michigan school system."

I recognized Governor James Blanchard, and was well aware of Michigan’s ranking first in the nation in education.

"Speaking of which," he continued, "I believe I see your mother more often than you do these days since she is working in the schools. That little sister of yours (Kimmy) is a prime example of what proper instruction can produce. Your little sister is coming to Mackinac to further her skills. Your whole family is a prime example of how good Education 2000 works."

I finally met up with Bonnie again in Lamar Alexander’s room as the night came to a close. "Bonnie, how’s that snake of yours?" he asked. Bonnie, who had been filmed pornographically by CIA commercial photographer Jimmy Walker with Dick Flood’s snakes, had a boa constrictor,

"Great!" Bonnie laughed. "How’s yours?"

"Constricted," he replied.

Bonnie unzipped his pants as she admittedly had done numerous times in the past, playfully sayings "Let it loose!"

Lamar Alexander began removing his pants. Referring to me in Project Monarch terms he said,

"When I first saw you, you were a worm with no hint of being a butterfly."

"Daddy (Alex Houston) said she was a diamond in the rough," Bonnie volunteered, "She shines now". Turning to me he said, "I know you are a shoe shiner, and mine need a shine." Bonnie, also familiar with the Stockyard booth and Lamar Alexander’s meaning, laughed when he said, "Why don’t you both take a foot."

Task complete, I went to Byrd’s nearby room as instructed. He was in the bathroom preparing himself for bed, "Louise had her feathers fluffed over Barbara’s collision with destiny and I had to smooth them down a bit," Drying his dough grey hands on a towel, he turned to me and said, "Looks like you’ve had your wings spread a bit tonight."

"I wore a path up and down the stairs," I stated.

Much to my relief he said, "I’m not going to fiddle with you farther. I just wanted to give you something to remember me by--Bye."

He compartmentalized my memory with his stun gun.


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Brian Mulroney - James Blanchard


Soon thereafter, Kelly and I were transported to Mackinac Island. Michigan to meet with Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney at then-Governor James Blanchard’s mansion.

Houston led Kelly and me to a horse drawn carriage as quickly as we stepped off the ferryboat onto the timeless, antiquated island, I noticed that the Canadian flags were again flying at the Grand Hotel, but was of no mind to question, Kelly sat quietly beside me, apparently drugged as our carriage took us through the woods to the Governor’s mansion.

The guests in the mansion were reminiscent of the recent Tennessee Governor’s convention: Michigan Governor Blanchard, Ohio Governor Dick Celeste, and Pennsylvania Governor Dick Thornburgh. Guy VanderJagt and Jerry Ford were also present. Mulroney appeared to be the guest of "honor".

He reached out his hands and greeted me,

"I told you I would see you somewhere in time! I slipped time, space, and distance to be here this evening. You and I have some ground to cover."

"Yes, Sir. President Reagan’s Global Education Secretary Bill Bennett has sent me to deliver this education packet directly to you." I was to deliver a large, brown envelope of documents similar to those handed out at the Governor’s Convention.

Blanchard excused himself. "I’ve already heard the schpiel," he said as he turned to his other guests, leaving Mulroney and me alone.

"Global Education is the wave of the future," I recited as programmed. As the world gets smaller and smaller due to higher technology spanning the globe, our children must be educated in the ways of the world. Education as it is, barely equips them for life in their own backyard. We need to become involved in our children’s education for the sake of their future and our legacy. Global education is the way. The only way, Look into it..." I handed him the envelope. "...Peer into the future."

Mulroney uncrossed his arms long enough to accept the envelope, which he casually tossed on a chair.

"I am interested in the children, the legacy we leave them, and how we shape their future by the way we record our history in their test." Using Order of the Rose cues, he signaled me to photographically record his words for future delivery.
 
"Tell Mr. Bennett(sss)," he hissed, cryptically revealing his knowledge that Bill and Bob Bennett worked together using reptilian-alien themes, "implementation is high. I’m already sold on Global 2000 and have additional points I would like for them to consider. Headsets at every computer station for openers. Double the impact with dual learning. We’re being thrust forward at warp speed, and the generations of the future may need an added booster to bring them up to speed. A united global effort using your education package as a basis is destined to bring the future into a clear and present reality."

Business complete, Mulroney triggered my sex programming and led me upstairs to the bedrooms where Kelly was robotically waiting, entranced under Orders of the Rose.

[Bluegreen]

MY CONTRA-BUTION

Chapter 22


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U.S. and Mexican relations were flourishing in the successes of NAFTA’s groundwork, while political differences pertaining to Nicaragua remained a minor point of contention. Since the Catholic Vatican’s Intelligence arm of Jesuits were working closely with U.S. Intelligence to usher in the New World Order, they used their established influence in Mexico and Nicaragua to provide a common ground for "diplomatic relations".
 
My dual mind-control victimization by the ClA and the Jesuits since childhood, and my previous "diplomatic relations" in Mexico thrust me into the role of messenger and prostitute to Nicaragua’s Contra leader Daniel Ortega.

Were President Reagan’s Nicaraguan Freedom Fighters fighters OF freedom or FOR freedom? My mind-controlled existence rendered me incapable of pondering such questions. Nevertheless, I had a programmed "passion burning in my bosom" for the Contras as was patriotically instilled through torture, when I embarked on my "peacekeeping mission" to Nicaragua for Reagan tale in the summer of 1985,

I boarded NCL as usual to reach my appointed destination. Since Nicaragua was not a port of call for NCL, I flew from the Yucatan of Mexico to a remote military airstrip in Managua. It was in this small mountain top clearing that I met with Commandant Daniel Ortega, as had been arranged through the Vatican.


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I was dressed seasonably in shorts, with my long blond hair lucked hack in a French braid. Onega’s attire, too, was reflective of the casual air to meeting. His tan, military uniform had worn thin, and was free of any protocol insignias. The dark, rose-colored sunglasses he peered through apparently had not changes his somber view of the "noble cause" he claimed to represent. A man of few words, he greeted me with an order, "Come with me." I rode with him in silence as he drove a jeep the short distance across the airstrip to a small, near, two story, white, frame house.

As we came to a stop in front of the house, Ortega said In a sad, slow voice. "I have needs like any man. But I feel like a whore myself for accepting your President’s offer."

His bedroom was clean and functional, with numerous assault weapons scattered around, I did not see any modern conveniences or personal effects, but Ortega seemed to be at home in his surroundings.

Ortega’s demeanor was that of a man who had abstained from sex longer than most in big political position. As he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, I noticed a Catholic medallion with the secret Jesuit ascension/descension symbol on it, a common accessory among Jesuit spooks. He sat in wicker chair as I followed his silent lead in gratifying him orally.


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While he chain smoked cigarettes, I sat in front of him on the floor, and relayed Reagan’s message to him as programmed. I began.

"President Reagan has sent me as a messenger of peace."

He casually interrupted slowly looking me up and down.

"I’d like to have a piece in a few more minutes."
 
I continued, "Your people have endured many hardships Throughout their existence. He (Reagan) only wants to help. The American people want to see peace and freedom in your land. Mexican and U.S. relations are growing stronger by the day, and it is imperative that we resolve your conflict in order to resolve our own with the Mexican government We have come to the agreement with Mexico that the Nicaraguan conflict must be resolved for the sake of your people as well as our own, I am here on a peacekeeping mission representative of Vatican-based common ground shared by both Mexican and American governments, to enlighten you to our peaceful intentions.
 
The unified effort of Mexican-American Catholic missions is to promote peace in your region, while only enhancing your culture. The world is rapidly turning toward world peace, and Nicaragua is way behind the times—from technology and education to government ideals and religious convictions. Pope John Paul is praying diligently for peace in your region, and has joined forces with President Reagan, Mexico, and even the Soviet Union to ensure that peace.
 
He (the Pope) knows your goals, he knows your motives.

(I leaned forward, almost whispering from my own instilled belief.)

He knows your soul. We can all work in tandem to achieve that peace. Nicaragua, small though it may be in relation to the rest of the world, is a significant stepping stone toward unifying world powers. It can no longer be a source of contention and disagreement.


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Your people must be free. Free to worship God through your holy Catholic church. That is first and foremost on President Reagan’s agenda, as well as the Pope’s and President de la Madrid’s. A New World Order is coming into being with or without you; it is an inevitable process that cannot be stopped. A whole new world of peace awaits us all. I can see you are a peace-loving man. It emanates from your being.
 
Blood has flowed across your land so heavily that your people are drowning in it. Together we can cauterize that wound. Replace blood flow with cash flow. Americanization can upgrade your technology at a rapid rate. Your people could compete in world markets by the turn of the century. Your future global position has already been determined by geography alone. Flow with it. Lead your people out of poverty.

Educate them in a manner conducive to their destined position in world markets. Free them from their struggles that have held them captive for so long. Allow the church bells to ring with good news of peace, prosperity and freedom. You can achieve all of your goals for your country’s advancement with our help."

Ortega thoughtfully finished smoking a cigarette, and lit up another as he confidently replied,

"Tell your President that I have seen his freedom, and listened to his words projected through yet another example of it. He paints a beautiful picture suspended within his framework.
 
A picture can appear serene to its beholder while it is being gazed upon. I cannot worship a graven image, and the picture he paints is just that. We have fought too hard and too long, spilling sweat and blood across this land in our determined effort to maintain human values instilled in us by our forefathers, who gained their profound wisdom from the original Catholic missionaries.
 
These values are the same as those portrayed in President Reagan’s painted picture-only ours are real. His have only surface value, like any other painting. If I were to concede, I would only be framed within me picture he paints, hung on his wall like a trophy. I will not mislead my people, in spite of his offers of wealth and position, I am true to my convictions, and when he is true to his, then we will meet on common ground and have something of substance to discuss. For now, words are only a waste of our time."

Ortega put out his cigarette, and pulled back the covers on his bed. "I’ll take you somewhere pleasant." He took a well-used opium pipe/bong off his dresser and handed me a nozzle, I had been trained to accept any drug given to me with the only exception being the strictly forbidden marijuana. I hesitated until Ortega assured me it was opium. As the drug took affect he said, "This could be the way to world peace."


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Sex with Ortega was at very least free of pain and perversion. Unlike most I was forced to have "diplomatic relations" with for the Reagan Administration, he fell asleep when he was through due to the difference between opium and cocaine.

The honk of a jeep’s horn outside awoke him. As I prepared to leave, he said, "Wait". He took a small, 1/4 inch or so ball of black opium from his personal stash, wrapped it in the cellophane from his cigarette package wrapper, and said,

"Give this to your President and tell him that you and I found more peace with this substance than he’ll ever impart on the surface of his painted globe."

As he closed the door quietly behind me he said, "Come back and see me when you have more to offer. "

I was immediately returned by plane to Washington, D.C. where my "mission" had originated. This time I was taken directly to Bush’s office, where I delivered Ortega’s message verbatim. Eliminating most of the dialogue, Bush instructed me to deliver a partial message to Reagan. Unable to perceive message content and people beyond my "Need to Know" mind-controlled limited view, I had no concept that Ortega’s message would have a negative impact.
 
It never occurred to me that Ortega had proven himself to be as much a hypocrite as he purported Reagan to be by using me as a prostitute and messenger of bad news knowing full well that I had no free will with which to make the message more palatable. Bush’s revision of Ortega’s message added fuel to a proverbial fire that I didn’t even know was burning when I delivered the message to Reagan.

Bush was with Reagan and me in Reagan’s secondary office (to the Oval office) of the White House as I relayed the message as instructed,

"Daniel Ortega is a peace loving man, who seeks the same resolutions that we do. But he told me to tell you-(I dug in my purse for the opium) that he and I found more peace in this substance - (I handed the opium to Reagan) than you’ll ever impart on the surface of your painted globe."

Bush smiled as Reagan’s face instantly turned beet red with rage. Bush then reacted and spun up out of his chair, took the opium for himself, and told Reagan, "Settle down. There’s more. It seems the only peace she spread was between her legs." He headed for the door, saying, "I would reconsider my position if I were in your shoes—considering what’s filling hers." Bush dropped his gaze down the back of my legs to my shoes as he continued, "It’s running down both sides of her legs."

Obviously I wouldn’t be subjected to sex with Reagan that day. I was quickly excused and flown back to Mexico, where I resumed my NCL cruise. With my memory of the event compartmentalized through high voltage, I believed at the time that I had never been gone at all.


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[Bluegreen]

WHIRLED VISION

Chapter 23

In the fall of 1985, the same part of me that met with Ortega was walking with (Reagan appointed) CIA Director William "Bill" Casey through the harbored rose garden of his Long Island estate. Casey began by manipulating my Jesuit/Vatican programming base personality with the expertise indicative of the current union between Catholic and CIA operations.


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The late William J Casey


Casey, whom Reagan referred to as a "man of Vision," was forming my Jesuit mind-control programmed "understanding".

"I have a World Vision, one of peace. By re-moving the more violent factions of societies world wide and replacing them with faithful leaders of one world government, and the one world church, global unification is eminent. It is a beautiful vision, and it came to me in my dreams.
 
God has moved me to move men. I’ve moved them here and I’ve moved them there—now it’s time to remove them. My World Vision encompasses the globe and puts to rest any and all tensions, strife, overpopulation, and starvation. My vision is a World Vision, and the churches see it my way as evidenced by their support of the cause."

Referring to my mind-controlled involvement in Haitian operations via NCL, Casey further defined ’the cause,’

"Your heartfelt mission in Haiti has helped in my World Vision quest for her people to abandon hedonistic voodoo and turn their eyes to God and Godly ways. By their own design, they have created an atmosphere of evil whereby a plague will be visited on their land.
 
The Lord has so moved me to move men who share our goals into place, and remove those who stand in the way of peace. It is for this reason that your mission in Haiti must be brought to a close. Baby Doc, in his tireless devotion to saving the demonically possessed cannot bear the burden of watching his people die the wretched death unleashed upon those doomed for hell.
 
We are left with no alternative but to heed the word of God and spare him from annihilation. For this reason, we will send in the missionaries (Jesuit Mercenaries) to inoculate the population with a vaccine that will spare only the good of heart by virtue of its design. All attempts to maintain Haiti within the loop of financial gain will cease.
 
Tourism must be stopped for the sake of the innocents visiting a plagued land. Despite our differences, Baby Doc has complied with the Vatican’s orders to the test of his abilities in his demon-infested land, and must resign his post. We owe it to him to transport him to safety. It is our duty as Americans and followers of God to obey the commands of our Lord and Master and enforce the World Vision.
 
It is your duty as an American and follower of God to instill the understanding that God has spoken, and a plague is imminent. Baby Doc is being prepared for transition and awaits word of direction. You will provide him with that word."

With my perceptions distorted and Catholic Jesuit programmed "understanding" instilled, I was prepared to "religiously accept" any and all I was told. I believed that the revolution in Haiti was a holy war, never capable of realizing it was a test run battle for the minds in this 4th world country.

The devotion I felt toward the Haitian people was more than a religious understanding of these alternately Catholic-Santeria voodoo worshipers. I was actually subconsciously recognizing other tortured mind-controlled slaves in this human created hell called Haiti. Consciously, I now know it was due in part to the visible stun gun/prod marks, plastic ever-present smiles that never quite reach their dead appearing eyes. The children clung to their wide-eyed mothers, as they performed their tasks in robotic servitude. I had recognized these characteristics in other slaves throughout the years, but never had I seen a whole country entranced. My compassion for the Haitian people penetrated into the realm of the spiritual, into a part of me that mind control and manipulation of religion could never touch.

Casey and I had been walking through the garden, guarded by more armed men than the President. It wasn’t that I was a threat, I couldn’t even think to save myself. It was that Casey and his World Vision were a threat to humanity that so many guards were needed. The men appeared to be U.S. Secret Service officers according to their attire, weapons, and earphone headsets. One guard conspicuously placed his hand to his headset, listening as though it were remote control. He walked briskly over to Casey, who signaled me to leave with an escort who instantly arrived at my side awaiting instruction.

"Take her to my chambers," Casey told him, "Clear her mind. I have something I need to instill." Robotically I followed my escort into Casey’s office library. The room was barren, dark, and hot - just as described in a book I had been given to read in keeping with You Are What You Read programming. It produced a sensation of having somehow stepped into the novel Chameleon by insider William Diehl. The mind scramble of the book and reality instantly commenced,

"It’s warm in here," the agent said, unbuttoning my while eyelet blouse." Bill (Casey) likes to keep it this way in case-he (Casey) gets a chill and his blood runs cold. Chameleons are naturally cold blooded. Make yourself comfortable white I turn up the heat. Mr. Casey doesn’t want to hear a peep out of you, so I’ll warn you now-be Silent."

He deliberately triggered and activated the Jesuit programmed part of me that believed in my Vow of Silence.

“The walls have ears and the plants have eyes, so your silence is tantamount to success. I’m going to leave you to reflect in Silence. Bill will be along any minute."

Had I been capable of "reflecting," I would have questioned the validity of Casey’s dramatic position of "religious overtones" on Haitian policy. Like Reagan’s, Casey’s sincerity did not ring true considering the fruits of his labor, But then, I could not consider any more than I could reflect, and I sat in a state of what felt like suspended animation awaiting my instructions.
 
I could not anticipate nor dread what was about to happen as futuristic thinking was left in the hands of my controllers. Had I realized the scramble of reality with William Diehl’s book, I could have "psychically" predicted what happened when Bill Casey strolled in. Casey walked over to his highly polished, dark wood desk and opened the top drawer. Casey’s desk was one of the few furnishings in the large, airy room.
 
The dark, polished, reddish-wood paneling seemed even darker with the midnight blue carpeting curving slightly up the wall. Heavy, gothic maroon velvet drapes blacked out the sun from the windows behind his desk, "I can see quite clearly that you have taken a Vow of Silence, Maintain it. Maintain it and Lisssten," Casey hissed, using preset triggers. He reached into the drawer and took out a foot-long, maroon box with a diamond embossed on the top.

"I received a box, quite anonymously as I do from time to time," Casey said in keeping with the book scramble. "The box has your name on it. I expected to open it and find the usual pierced chameleon and found, instead, a weapon intended for one."

He opened the box in front of me. Inside, laying on a bed of cotton, was an elaborate dagger with a handle of the same rose crystal from which the crucifix Byrd had presented me on "our wedding night" was made. My first personal meeting with Casey promised to be torturous as I recognized Byrd’s participation in the grisly ordeal.
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I listened, deeply tranced, as Casey said,

"Is it a knife or a crucifix? I can’t tell. Both symbolize martyrdom as far as I’m concerned. Note the rose pattern cut into the crystal. Now, I wonder who would have sent me this to give to you."

Even under mind control I knew, as I was supposed to, that Byrd had provided him with the knife. My worst fears were confirmed when Casey began using Byrd’s hypnotic induction, "In like a knife, sharp and clean, I’ll carve out what I want." Casey sliced through the front of my bra, exposing the area between my breasts where Byrd routinely cut me with his pocketknife.
 
He pierced into my breastbone deeply so that I believed I would split, and indeed did split off a personality fragment compartmentalizing this event. Using standard Jesuit-based infinity program, Casey instructed me and programmed me with messages that I would deliver as though my life depended on it.

"You must go to the Citadel and warn our Dominican brothers of impending doom to their neighbors in Haiti. From the Dominican side (of the Haitian island) you will be flown to Port Au Prince where you will meet with Baby Doc (Duvalier) at his Palace. He is already receptive to your word, and knows that my words are your words and your word is Silence. You must tell General Cedras his Order is from The Rose."

Casey touched the white rose in his lapel, signaling me to photographically record his words verbatim.

When he was through programming me with his message, Casey told me, "As quickly as you complete this mission, you must depart Haiti, never to return again." Casey used excessive high voltage to compartmentalize my memory. I recall being nauseated and ill from his stun gun as I departed his Long Island compound/home via ferry programmed with messages to Cedras and Baby Doc.

Haiti had recently been dropped from the NCL itinerary as a Port of Call, but the Dominican Republic side of the island remained open to tourism. When Houston and I debarked the NCL ship in Puerta Plata, we walked past a World Vision cargo ship that was being unloaded at the dock. I recall that a soft ocean breeze gently lifted the hem of my white, gauzy dress as I weaved my way through the dock load of World Vision freight to a waiting automobile.

Religion and politics apparently mix in the Dominican Republic as evidenced by the inseparable mixture of Catholic Missions, old forts, statues of Christopher Columbus, and Catholic Shrines. As we drove past the mountain tramway that takes tourists up and down to the rustic Citadel and Catholic Shrine at the top, Houston perpetuated the "Chameleon" book scramble. Dually referring to Cedras and the short donkey ride from the tram to the Citadel depicted in Diehl’s book, Houston threatened to put me on the rickety tram saying, "Some Jackass will see you at the top."


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Raoul Cedras


In an area reserved for covert activities, out of view of tourists, I met with General Cedras in his Citadel office. Dressed in the eerie, Jesuit, dark, hooded robe, Cedras completed Casey’s "Chameleon" book scramble scenario as we walked through the ancient structure to his office. Cedras’ demeanor made him appear more as a militant than a "spook," despite the corny monk’s attire. With his hood down his back, Cedras’ sharp, craggy features and darting steel blue eyes kept my full attention. I had seen him at a monastery in Santo Domingo as ordered before,6 when Haiti was still being used by the CIA for Operation Watchtower to transport cocaine and Contra weapons from Cuba.

Alone with Cedras and properly signaled, I began photographically reciting Casey’s message,

"I have word of warning from the Vatican by way of the honorable and faithful William Casey. He sends word of impending doom that is to befall your neighbors on the dark side in Haiti. Voodoo manifest itself in mysterious ways while the way of the Lord is clear. Evil must be stopped at all costs. The cost shall be in terms of human casualty, as a plague is being visited upon the land. Those who fornicate with devils shall be infested with the plague. Woo unto them who have stood in the path of World Peace. By God’s design the New World Order shall come into being with or without the Haitians.
 
All American operations in Haiti are now destined for your ports. Your people (the CIA-UN operated Dominicans) will flourish in peace and prosperity while the dark side (Haitians) drown in the blood of this holy war that they have brought upon themselves. Close your borders swiftly and maintain guardians at the gate lest the Haitians infest your land with their evil plague. Inoculation of the masses shall be masked in the body and the blood shall carry the doom.
 
As more and more Haitians turn to God in their final hour, the communion they partake will be Satan’s own. With their God as the scapegoat, your Island in the Son (sun) will be freed of the vile and wicked. I have seen a vision, a World Vision, and it is through communion with the ancients that we have been granted the Keys to the Kingdom 7 to unlock the gates of hell. The holy water sent herein has the blessings of the Vatican and must be sprinkled like rain upon the Haitians.
 
Our God reigns, and he rains rivers of blood upon the Haitian masses, and he reigns supreme upon your mission. Your mission is clear. You serve communion and let God son them out. Those who serve the body of Christ are covered by the Vatican, those who serve voodoo evil shall be covered in the blood of their own. It is clear our God reigns. Lei the games begin."

Combining the cryptic language of Cedras’ CIA and Jesuit operations, Casey had weaved numerous cryptic commands into his message. Had I been inadvertently accessed, the instructions would make little sense to those not cued to the language. Cedras was listening religiously, fully grasping the magnitude of Casey’s instructions. I concluded the message,

"The holy water with the Vatican’s blessings will arrive at 1 PM today by way of World Vision, The blood shall host the plague."

I was relieved to depart Cedras’ presence without being subjected to his usual perverse sexual brutality. This would be someone else’s job this time, as my programmed trance was maintained until I delivered Casey’s message to Baby Doc Duvalier on the "dark side" of the "Island in the Son".

Houston took me to the small CIA-operated airport at the foot of the mountain where I boarded a small, white airplane destined for Port Au Prince, Haiti. When we landed, the pilot walked me over to Baby Doc’s Tonton guards, and ordered that I be taken to the Palace. He spoke in rapid Haitian French, and lifted my symbolic, rosy cross necklace for emphasis to the guards.
 
Reinforcing my instilled belief that the Catholic emblem would protect me, the guards treated me with the respect that apparently was reserved for identified Jesuit spooks. I was driven by white Mercedes to the Haitian Presidential Palace. Looking even more conspicuously out of place in contrast to stark poverty than his fleet of Mercedes, Baby Doc’s Palace was decadent. I stood reverently in the foyer waiting for my arranged meeting to begin, unable to question Baby Doc’s luxurious surroundings in view of the despair and starvation around him.


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Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier's Haitian palace


I had met with Baby Doc throughout the early ’80s in the capacity of a Project Monarch prostitute. All Haitian-based U.S. covert operations were run by a bed-ridden old man referred to as "Ol’ Charlie," who resided at the El Presidente Hotel until his death in the mid ’80s. During my tenure as a mind-controlled messenger and prostitute in Haiti, I had been forced to attend a voodoo ceremony for my (and others’) traumatization purposes.


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I was ordered to perform oral sex on Baby Doc as his dark-windowed Mercedes slowly proceeded through the crowds of Haitians on their way to the ritual. With my Haitian missions previously established with Ol’ Charlie for business and Baby Doc for prostitution, my meeting Baby Doc for business was unprecedented.

"What brings you here?" Baby Doc spit the words at me in English. I had been led into his library by three armed guards, "I have no need of a Catholic whore."

Baby Doc’s applicable knowledge of the English language was limited by his intellect whereby an aide filled the need for an interpreter as I delivered Casey’s message.

"I come in the name of peace. I have a message for you from William Casey, sanctioned by the Vatican. The Pope is in agreement with U.S. policy in Haiti. He has seen a vision, a sign from God. The vision is a World Vision, whose people are reaching out to yours with charily in abundance. The goods and services provided require only that the people of Haiti anoint the sick, feed the hungry, and clothe the poor through his servants of World Vision.
 
Their mission will separate good seed from bad and restore peace in your region. The peace that shall be visited upon your land amongst your people is imminent, but not before the rivers run red with the blood of the wicked. The vision is plague, and your people will fall in the streets pleading for mercy, and you will not be here to hear it. The lime has come for you to leave. It is God’s will that you escape the plague with blessings from the Vatican, never to return to your homeland.
 
Prepare for your exodus today for tomorrow holds a promise of doom. Using your prophetic wisdom, warn the masses of impending doom and arm them with World Vision. The vision is one of peace’ for those who flock to the tents and churches for salvation. Your destiny is clear, and the Vatican has cleared the way for your departure."

With Casey’s message delivered, Baby Doc’s Tontons returned me to the same airplane I had left a short time before. I flew in silence, unable to think to comprehend the magnitude of what had just transpired. Events to a mind- controlled slave are all perceived as first and last times.
 
Therefore, Casey’s instructions that I would "depart Haiti, never to return again" seemed business as usual to me. Flying over the mountains that separate Haiti from the Dominican Republic, I noticed the gentle people below bathing in the waterfalls, toilessly washing their bright clothes on the rocks, and primitively hauling goods in the baskets balanced on their heads. An occasional goat ran across the barren land, and the children, bellies swollen from starvation, played with slicks and vines.
 
With my mind-controlled and spinning with misperceptions, my whirled vision, like Ortega’s rose colored glasses, prevented me from seeing the reality of New World Orders.

[Bluegreen]

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[Bluegreen]

A-HUNTING WE WILL GO

Chapter 24


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On December 4, 1986, I turned 29 years old.
 
Usually mind-controlled slaves were discarded, "thrown from the Freedom train," at 30; but I argued with Houston when he told me my government abusers only had one year left to "use me up". I had had no conscious awareness of the passing of time, and believed I was still only 24. Regardless of what I believed, my abusers did their best to "use me up" physically and psychologically before even a month had passed.

I was in Washington, D.C. on a routine trip, which included being prostituted to President Reagan. "Uncle Ronnie’s" cheeks were flushed from excitement and cognac as he told me, "I always take two weeks off for Christmas to go back to California." Reagan interrupted himself to break into an old Hollywood style song and dance, "California here I come..."
 
The White House, he claimed, had always been confining to him, and he appeared genuinely excited about his upcoming trip.

"I look forward to this trip every year because I get to see old friends. Oh, I still work while I’m there - the President’s work is never done - but at least I’m there. It’s about time you see where I call home."

Then, quoting the Wizard of Oz, he said, "’There’s no place like home.’ And you’re about to see why. Say it with me, "There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home’."

Then he instructed me in Oz cryptic,

"Click your heels. There’s no place like home."

Blue-white light seemingly exploded in my brain, like being hit with deadly low voltage AC electrical current. Reagan was "setting the stage" for an attempted mind scrambling time slip, to be reactivated at an upcoming meeting I would have with him in Bel Air, California.

The motor home was packed to the walls, and the walls were packed with cocaine as Houston, Kelly, and I departed on our long drive to California. Houston had planned several "tourist stops" along the way that proved as "nightmarish as the California ordeal itself."

In Las Vegas, Nevada, Houston kept Kelly and me busy prostituting us to everyone he knew "in the know" and in attendance at the Country Music Association’s annual convention. Weary of being sent from room to room, I was back in the lobby literally trying to catch my breath when I saw Michael Dante. He was dressed in an expensive, light grey silk suit and dark glasses, looking more like a Fed than a mobster, leaning on a post, waiting for me. "Our love" he professed over the phone for mind conditioning purposes was certainly not apparent now. "You’re late," he growled as he looked at his watch.
 

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He ordered me into the Ladies’ Room to activate programming by having me "lose myself" in the infinity mirrors that lined the walls. With my mind set like he wanted, he then used and directed me in commercial pornography. Later, he did the same with Kelly.

At the Grand Canyon, Houston traumatized Kelly and me in preparation for the upcoming events in California. While hiking down the canyon, Houston attempted to anchor hypnotically all of the trip’s events behind the death and insanity programming to which he was subjecting us. When we stopped for a late afternoon lunch in the Canyon, Kelly collapsed in a state of shock, unable to eat. Houston was pleased because he "got to eat it all himself".
 
I was, as usual, undergoing the food and water deprivation. I was so thirsty, I could not think to eat. Kelly’s condition magnified my own terrified state, and I did all I could to keep Houston from supposedly pushing her over the edge. I carried her for hours all the way out of the canyon, without pausing to rest. In my own mind I wanted to believe I was actually able to protect her. The fact was, Houston was wearing me down physically to ensure that I could not protect her at our next destination: Lake/Mount Shasta, California.


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George Bush was highly active in both the Lampe, Missouri and Shasta, California retreat compounds. Just like Lampe, Shasta’s cover was country music. According to everyone I knew, singer and songwriter Merle Haggard supposedly ran the show at Lake Shasta, diverting any and all attention from the nearby Mount Shasta compound.
 
Shasta was the largest, covert mind-control slave camp of which I am aware. Hidden in the wooded hills, military fencing corrals an enormous fleet of unmarked, black helicopters and more mind-controlled, military robots than I saw in all of Haiti. This covert military operation served its own agenda, not America’s. I was told and overheard that it was a base for the future Multi-Jurisdictional Police Force; for enforcing order and law in the New World Order. In the center of the high security compound, was another well-guarded military-fenced area that was regarded as a "Camp David" of sorts for those running our country.
 
George Bush and Dick Cheney shared an office there, and claimed the outer perimeter woods as their own hunting ground where they played "A Most Dangerous Game". Predicated on conversations I overheard between the two, it was this world police military background that earned Dick Cheney his cabinet appointment as Secretary of Defense with the Bush Administration.


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The late Merle Haggard owned and operated the Silverthorn Resort in Lake Shasta.


Houston stayed at Haggard’s Lake Shasta resort while Kelly and I were helicoptered to Mount Shasta for our scheduled meeting with Bush and Cheney. The helicopter pilot directed our attention to the military fencing surrounding the outer perimeter of the compound. Rarely did pilots ever speak to either of us, but this one smiled wickedly as he told us we would need to know the outer limits for A Most Dangerous Game.

As soon as we arrived at Bush and Cheney’s inner sanctum, I noticed George Bush, Jr. was with them. It was my experience that Jr. stood by his father and covered his backside whenever Bush would become incapacitated from drugs or required criminal backup. It appeared that Jr. was there to serve both purposes while his father and Cheney enjoyed their work-vacation.


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Mid-1980's


Hyper from drugs, Cheney and Bush were eager to hunt their human prey in "A Most Dangerous Game". They greeted me with the rules of the game, ordered me to strip naked despite the cold December winds, and told me in Oz cryptic to "beware of the lions and tigers and bears". Kelly’s life became the stakes, as usual, which resurrected my natural and exaggerated programmed maternal instincts. Tears silently ran down my cheeks as Bush told me,

"If we catch you, Kelly’s mine. So run, run as fast as you can. I’ll get you and your little girl, too, because I can, I can, I can. And I will."

Cheney, daring me to respond, asked, "Any questions?" I said, "There’s no place to run because there’s a fence—the kind I can’t get over. I saw it."

Rather than physically assault me. Cheney laughed at my sense of "no where to run, no where to hide, and explained that a bear had torn a hole in the fence somewhere, and all I had to do is find it. He lowered his rifle to my head and said, "Let the games begin. Go."

Wearing only my tennis shoes, I ran through the trees as fast and as far as I could, which wasn’t very far at all. Bush was using his bird dog to track me, the same one that had recently been used with me in bestiality filming as a "Byrd-dog" joke on my owner, Robert C. Byrd. When caught, Cheney held his gun to my head again as he stood over me, looking warm in his sheepskin coat. Bush ordered me to take his dog sexually while they watched, then he and Cheney ushered me back to their cabin.


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I pulled on my clothes and sat in the office part of the cabin awaiting instructions. I had no idea where Kelly was, nor do I in retrospect. Bush and Cheney were still in their hunting clothes when the programming session began. Bush said,

"You and I are about to embark on A Most Dangerous Game of diplomatic relations. This is my game. You will follow my rules. I will have the distinct advantage of hunting you with my Eye in the Sky (satellite).
 
I’ll watch every move you make. As long as you play the game by my rules and make no mistakes, you live. One mistake and I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little girl, too. You die, and Kelly will have to play with me. I prefer it that way. Then it will be her Most Dangerous Game. The cards are stacked in my favor because, well, it is my game! Are you game?"

There was no choice. I responded as conditioned, "Yes, Sir! I’m game." The parallels to The Most Dangerous Game that had just occurred in the woods were deliberate and intended to make retrieval of memory "impossible" due to cryptoamnesia scrambling.

"Good. Then let the games begin. Listen carefully to your instructions. You have no room for error." Cheney flipped his "game timer"—an hourglass. Bush continued, "This game is called the King and Eye, and here’s the deal. You will be establishing stronger diplomatic relations according to order between Mexico, the U.S., and the Middle East. Your role will require a change of face at each new place. I’ll chart your course, define your role, and pull your strings. You’ll speak my words when I pull your strings. There is no room for error."

Cheney was half lying across the plain, military issue style desk in an apparent drug stupor as Bush talked. Still wearing his hunting coat and hat, Cheney aimed his rifle at me from the desk and threatened, "Or a-hunting we will go." Bush finished Cheney’s threat by singing, "We’ll catch a fox and put her in a box and lower her in a hole."

Bush looked at Cheney and burst out laughing. The sight of him dressed in his hunting clothes with a huge bore, double-barreled shotgun to his shoulder inspired Bush to tell him he "looked like Elmer Fudd".

Cheney, imitating the cartoon character, said, "Where is that waskily wabbit?"

Operation The King and Eye would involve Reagan’s #1 envoy Philip Habib (who cryptically played the Alice In Wonderland role of the White Rabbit with slaves such as myself) and Saudi Arabian King Fahd. So when Bush referred to the two as "Elmer Fahd and the Waskily Wabbit," he and Cheney laughed until they cried. Since both were already high from drugs anyway, they had a great deal of difficulty maintaining composure long enough to complete my programming.


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[Bluegreen]

BUSH BABY

Chapter 25


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It was late evening when Bush and Cheney finished programming me with numerous messages pertaining to the immediate opening of the Juarez, Mexican border to free (drug and slave) trade. They then took me downstairs to the living quarters of the western cedar and redwood structure where Kelly soon joined us. George Bush, Jr. deposited my obviously traumatized and withdrawn child at the door. Referring to The Most Dangerous Game she told me in a quiet, defeated and sad voice, "I was caught same as you".

In retrospect, I do not know if she was actually hunted (I can only hope she was not). Regardless, this reinforced the fact that I had been caught and therefore was "responsible" (when in fact I was not) for everything that happened to Kelly from that point on.

The decor of the residence area reflected Cheney’s primitive, rustic, western preference. Like his "ultra secret" Pentagon Bunkhouse, use of leather was in abundance. The main room was small, but appeared larger due to an infinity mirror on one wall. The room was decorated in mirror fashion with one side looking like the other. Centered between two facing black leather sofas was a coffee table littered with drugs and paraphernalia. Bush and Cheney were sitting in matching black leather recliners angled towards the large stone fireplace where a fire was blazing, illuminating and heating the room.


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Heroin, Bush’s drug of choice, was in abundance and Cheney joined him in using it. The smorgasbord of drugs laid out supposedly included opium, cocaine, and Wonderland Wafers (MDMHA-XTC aka ecstasy), which indicated to me they intended to celebrate their vacation with abandon. I had seen Cheney stumbling drunk before, but this was the only time I saw him use heroin and give it to me. Kelly, too, was subjected to the drugs.

Bush attempted to sell Cheney on the idea of pedophilia through graphic descriptions of having sex with Kelly. Both were already sexually aroused from drugs and anticipation. Cheney demonstrated to Bush why he did not have sex with kids by exposing himself to Kelly and saying, "Come here".

Upon seeing Cheney’s unusually large penis, Kelly reeled back in horror and cried, "No!" which made them both laugh. Bush asked Cheney for his liquid cocaine atomizer as he got up to take Kelly to the bedroom. When Cheney remarked how benevolent it was of Bush to numb her with it before sex, Bush replied, "The hell it is. It’s for me." He described his excited state in typical vulgar terms and explained that he wanted it to spray cocaine on his penis to last longer.

Cheney said, "I thought it was for the kid." Bush explained, "Half the fun is having them squirm." He took Kelly’s hand and led her off to the bedroom. Cheney told me that since I was "responsible" for Bush’s assault on my daughter by being caught in A Most Dangerous Game, I would "burn" (in hell).

He burned my inner thigh with the fireplace poker, and threatened to throw Kelly in the fire. He hypnotically enhanced his description of her burning to traumatize me deeply. As he sexually brutalized me, I heard Kelly’s whimpers coming from the bedroom. As her cries grew louder, Cheney turned on classical music to drown out her cries for help.


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At 4:00 am, as ordered, Bush Jr. (and his helicopter pilot) came to retrieve Kelly and me. We were flown (by helicopter) back to the Lake Shasta area where Houston and the motor home awaited us. Bush’s assault of Kelly proved to be a mind shattering experience for me, and physically devastating to Kelly.

She was in dire need of medical attention and was unable even to move. Houston threatened to stop the motor home in the Yosemite area and throw me from a steep cliff if I didn’t settle down. His threats and commands could not control my hysteria, as much of his control programming had inadvertently shattered. Fearful he would lose both his "money-makers," Houston permitted me to telephone Kelly’s doctor and begin administering medicines.

As for me, he arranged for assistance in picking up the pieces in order that I complete my primary purpose in traveling to California, i.e., meet with Mexican President Miguel de La Madrid and finalize plans Co-open the Juarez border.


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[Bluegreen]

NEW WORLD ORDERS

Chapter 26


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There was "no time to lose" in bringing me back around to a functioning level. I knew I had work to do. Although I was to be "used up" by my 30th birthday, I do not believe it was Bush and Cheney’s intention to expedite the process so quickly. Apparently it was their incompetence due to over-indulgence of drugs and subsequent abuse of Kelly in my presence that destroyed parts of my maternal-based programming. Regardless of their "excuse," Houston drove us to San Francisco, California where Temple of Set (Satan) founder U.S. Army Lt. Col. Aquino made some emergency "repairs".

I was not taken to a hospital or a mental institution, but to a brain/mind research and development lab on the U.S. Army Reservation at Presidio. There are many facilities such as this one across the country at various CIA, military, and NASA compounds where hyper-advanced government knowledge is put to the test, developed and modified. Those I met who had expertly learned the scientific mechanics of the brain in conjunction with the ins and outs of the mind used their gained secret knowledge to manipulate and/or control others. The only thing Mark Phillips, Byrd, and Aquino had in common was the belief that "secret knowledge equals power".


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Byrd explained to me that New World Order "powers were strengthened" by allowing the mental health community only partial and/or deliberate misinformation through their organization lobby, The American Psychiatric Association (APA), concerning treatment modalities for severe dissociative disorders being created through mind control! Perpetrators believed that withholding knowledge and the proliferation of deliberate misinformation allowed them control over their secrets, and subsequently over humanity. They may be correct if no one can or will react to the information presented in this book.

Intended or not, I overheard a conversation pertaining to death and the mind between Aquino and a lab assistant as I lay on a cold, metal table in a deep hypnotic state, Aquino was saying that I had come close to death numerous limes which "increased my ability to enter other (mind) dimensions en route to death". I had listened to Aquino talk at length about such concepts before, as though he were trying to convince himself of some interdimensional time travel theory. "Whether in principle or in theory, the results are the same," he claimed.


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"The concept of time is abstract in itself."

Hypnotic talk of past-present-future set my mind in a spin that, when combined with Alice In Wonderland/NASA mirror world concepts, created an illusion of timeless dimensions. I now know that the only "dimensions’ I experienced were elaborate memory compartmentalizations of real, earthly events by real, earthly criminals, and certainly not by aliens, Satan, or demons.

After moving me from the table to an elaborate box, Aquino then shifted my mind to another area of my brain, claiming to have taken me into another dimension by way of "death’s door". This was accomplished while I was subjected to sensory deprivation combined with hypnotic and harmonic re-programming. The seemingly coffin-like structure was transformed in my mind to a crematorium, where I endured the sense of increasing heat while "I slowly burned" through hypnotic suggestion. Aquino then "pulled me through death’s door" and into another dimension, "void of time".
 
Parts of my programming were "recreated for the recreation of world leaders," i.e., U.S. President Reagan, Mexican President de la Madrid, and Saudi Arabian King Fahd.

In my next recollection of awareness, Houston, Kelly, and I were in Hollywood, where Houston claimed the motor home "broke down"—an overused attempted memory scramble. He sent me down the street to telephone Michael Dante, who lived nearby in Beverly Hills. Dante was expecting Kelly and me to join him in his Beverly Hills mansion for several days as bad been previously arranged by our handler, Alex Houston.
 
Kelly and I waited at the phone booth as instructed until Dante arrived to pick us up in his midnight blue Ferrari. As soon as I sat down, Dante said, "I got something for you, Baby, Give me your arm." Heroin was a common "vice" he shared with Bush, and he shot me up with the drug right in front of Kelly.

Later that evening at his house, Dante told me that he refused to "handle damaged goods," and that he would not be my next handler as previously planned. Not only was I "not fit to live with" him, but I was not "fit to live" at all. I am not certain what he meant to accomplish by these threats, but I know in retrospect that this was not his decision to make. Besides, I never perceived existence with him and his professed "love" as a "future" anyway- Instead, he said he would go along with the original plan long enough to acquire Kelly".

The next day, hours before I was to meet with de la Madrid, L.A, Dodgers baseball team manager Tommy LaSorda, George Bush, Jr., and star pitcher of Jr.’s Texas Rangers, Nolan Ryan (who was also a banker) were at Dante’s house working out the details of money laundering and bank transactions for the imminent opening of the Juarez border cocaine, heroin, and white slavery route.


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Former Texas Rangers owner George Bush Jr.


The common bond of covert criminal activity overrode any professional baseball conflicts between them. All three were in town to be in attendance at various gatherings and parties of Reagan’s, who would be arriving in a matter of days. And all three appeared to have an understanding of my function as Reagan’s "Presidential Model" mind-control sex slave.

Dante was gathering the necessary clothes and props for the evening rendezvous with de la Madrid. LaSorda, Nolan Ryan, and Jr. were standing in the entrance way of Dante’s house attempting to activate my "Baseball Mind Computer" programmed personality fragment that had inadvertently been shattered by Bush and Cheney’s traumas at Shasta. Dante told them,

"She knows more about baseball than you and Tommy (LaSorda) put together. Go ahead and ask her something. Anything."

Much to LaSorda’s amusement, Nolan Ryan asked, "How many times does Fernando Valenzuela (Dodger pitcher) touch his hat if he’s going to throw a screwy (screw ball)?" I could not respond, although I had once known more statistical data than would ever be in print. Jr. hollered, "Hey, Dante. What’s with your baseball computer here, huh? Are we supposed to say a magic word?" "I don’t know," Dante responded. "Could be drugs. Her sex is working fine, though. Give it a whirl."

Jr. declined, saying, "No thanks. The Baseball Computer sucks enough. Listen, we’ll see you later." Jr. had never shown any interest in me sexually. Like his father, he had only shown sexual interest in Kelly, who had been away with him most of the day. As he turned to leave, he stroked me under the chin and cryptically said, "Have a Ball tonight".

LaSorda, who had not been on his Ultra Slim Fast-sponsored diet yet, said, "Speaking of balls, mine could use a little attention here." He unzipped his pants.

Dante told me, "We gotta get dressed. Three minutes." Three minutes was a trigger for me to perform a specific, oral sex act. I knelt on the floor and pushed up LaSorda’s enormous belly, resting it on my head as I groped for his penis as ordered.
 
Dante’s two Great Danes came in as Jr. and Nolan Ryan left. I had been forced to participate in a bestiality film with these sex-trained dogs earlier that day, and I had to fight them off as I sexually gratified LaSorda before getting ready for "The Ball".


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[Bluegreen]

HOTEL CALIFORNIA

Chapter 27

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Dante threw me a short, red, slinky dress with rhinestone straps and a pair of "glass slippers" to wear to "Cinderella’s Ball". The shoes, like Oz ruby, slippers and Philip Habib’s "magic lightning bolt" shoes, were to trance-form me into the personality fragment that had been pre-programmed for the event.

Dante escorted me to the party/"Ball" where I was to meet with Mexican President de la Madrid. Dante had been bragging about his "second home in Malibu" ever since I first met him, and the place was opulence personified. I do not know who actually owned "his" second home in Malibu, California, but Reagan’s influence was evident in the decor. From the front, the white stucco house gave the illusion of being two-story.

The view overlooked a secluded Pacific bay, and revealed three levels built into a cliff. Through the smoked glass wall panels that spanned the back, the three stories, lavishly carpeted in red, white, and blue provided a patriotic view. All levels had a beige-white interior decorated in gold and crystal. An enormous chandelier hung from the "cathedral ceiling, illuminating all three levels at once from the great room which overlooked the bay.


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I was told that Uncle Ronnie (Reagan) would be arriving the next day. It was my "patriotic duty" to attend de la Madrid’s welcome party and "wear down any resistance he may have" in order that Reagan’s business meeting with him would "go smoothly". This was not the first time I heard this excuse for being politically prostituted, nor would it be the last. In reality, I was to do the initial dirty work, delivering messages, and encourage de la Madrid to use drugs and party with abandon.


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The diplomatic relations between the U.S. and Mexico were already strong, but this phase of the operation required total commitment from de la Madrid. Dante and I waited at the top of the staircase as de la Madrid, accompanied by two bodyguards, climbed to the red level of the house. I greeted de la Madrid, "Welcome to the U.S. and (seductively) welcome to the Hotel California." His deep-throated laugh indicated he had been cued to the ramifications of my cryptic statement.

"Hotel California," taken from a popular song by the Eagles, stated "you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave." To de la Madrid this confirmed the permanency of his involvement in the criminal, covert operations in which he was conspiring. Blackmail was openly initiated to ensure that each criminal participant understood that if one fell, they all fell. Maintaining "dirt" on each other through this Mafia-style method was seemingly the only way these criminals implementing the New World Order kept each other "honest."

De la Madrid and I went into a nearby bedroom, followed by Dante and the bodyguards. Dante then activated the programmed message instilled at the Shasta resort from Bush to de la Madrid. I recited,

"If you please, Sir, I have a message to deliver to you from the Vice President of the United States. Welcome to our Neighborhood. As you know, Salinas and I have worked out the details towards implementing our plan to open the Juarez border tomorrow.

In preparation and celebration of this accomplishment, this little party tonight will bring you face to face with a trusted few who are integral parts of this endeavor, and give you the latitude to see firsthand the friendship and honor among the (government-involved Mafioso) family members, I regret that I could not be here in person to greet you, but Ron (Reagan) can show you the ins and outs of the organization better than I. The transaction numbers have been recorded, and are available to you for cross reference purposes and to uphold the integrity of the players involved on your end of the Juarez border.

Your commitment today ensures you of a higher economic standard of living for your people, increased relations with the U.S., an influx of American industry, and a position of high esteem in the New World Order, With your ’Seal of Approval’ we can dissolve the Juarez border and make way for a future of prosperity for Mexico. For now, relax and enjoy your stay."

One of de la Madrid’s guards was shuffling through some papers from a briefcase, and he told Dante he would like the bank transaction numbers. Dante switched me to "You Are What You Read" Passbook programming, and I delivered the numbers intended for the border guards to de la Madrid as ordered. A computer of sorts was used to calculate and confirm the numbers.

Aware that the meeting was being filmed by one of Dante’s high tech "hidden" cameras, de la Madrid held up a paper-wrapped ball of Mexican heroin. Speaking directly at the camera, he cleverly said, "A token of appreciation, Mr. Bush, Something for your private stock. The finest heroin available. Enjoy."


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Dante strode across the room and said,

"I’ll take that and see to it that he gets it myself."

"I’m sure you will," de la Madrid laughed.

He then put all but one paper back in the briefcase. I was instructed to present the elaborately embossed Mexican Presidential Seal (of Approval) to pre-appointed Juarez border guards as proof of de la Madrid’s commitment, then deliver it directly to Bush for his file on the future NAFTA agreement.

Prepared to present a modified Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstration to de la Madrid, Dante said,

"You’ve heard from a Carrier Pigeon (messenger). You’ve seen her in a mode to accept program. And now I will demonstrate some of her sexual modes."

"That will not be necessary," de la Madrid told him. "I have been given a handful of keys that I would like to use on my own, including the one to destroy all memory. Not that it matters when we are monitored (he gestured toward the camera), but nevertheless I was instructed to do it." Dante did not seem to know this was not the first time I was sexually prostituted to the Mexican President.

"She rides a horse well," Dante said, referring to both the rare practice of heroin to supposedly block my memory of this event, and a Reagan-inspired sex act. Dante stuck a needle in my arm. "May I recommend a ride for you?"

"I am on one now that I would like to maintain," de la Madrid answered, referring to cocaine use and his running nose.

Dante laid out several generous lines of the white drug on a black mirror. He stroked me under my chin triggering Reagan’s sex Kitten personality, picked up Bush’s heroin, and ushered the two guards out the door.

De la Madrid, fully aware of my pornography exposure, said, "You like cameras? Let’s give them something to watch." He snorted two more lines of coke, undressed, and further activated my sex programming with the verbal and physical keys and triggers Reagan had previously provided him.

At one point he enthusiastically commented that "if I have my way, the Free Trade Agreement will include a few top of the tine (he snorted another line of coke for emphasis) "models" (vaginally) carved and trained like you." De la Madrid had long been obsessively fascinated with my vaginal mutilation carving.

He was perversely excited at the prospect of the Juarez border joint venture drug deal including protected "free trade" of mind-controlled slaves. He reiterated his desire the next day during a meeting with Reagan.



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[RunningDeer]

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[Bluegreen]

"FREE TRADE" OF DRUGS AND SLAVES AT THE JUAREZ BORDER

Chapter 28


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. . . . . . Jack Valenti – Photo: National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution


The next day, Dante drove me to a Bel Aire mansion high on a hill where another party was underway. As I joined those who had gathered on the manicured lawn, I recognized many of the same Mafia people who had been at the Malibu retreat aka "Hotel California". This was a welcome party for President Reagan who had just arrived. He was walking across the yard toward me with his friend, Jack Valenti, who was the president of the powerful Motion Picture Association of America. Reagan looked his role amongst his mobster friends, his beige coal with fur collar draped over his shoulders revealing a dark grey, pinstripe suit underneath. In retrospect I remember him as dressed like the one mobster I did not have to meet, John Gotti. As soon as my eyes met his, I was knocked to the ground by a familiar blue-white blast (high voltage) like the one I had recently experienced in D.C.

When I came back around and my eyes refocused, Dante was holding me up. Reagan said,

"Well, hello Kitten."

"Uncle Ronnie, how’d you get here?" I asked in child-like innocence.

"The rainbow, Kitten, the rainbow," he answered in Oz cryptic, "I told you I was coming home. There’s no place like home, and you said it with me. So, here we are. I keep a little piece of the rainbow in my pocket so I can get back over it (to D.C.) anytime I want to. I make a wish, and click my heels, and I’m gone."

For the moment, Reagan succeeded in confusing my mind with Oz cryptic metaphors, reconfirming to my child personality that he was indeed the powerful Wizard. As we went inside for a brief meeting, my personality was deliberately switched to the one that had dealt with de la Madrid the night before.

The grey-white stucco house was decorated in plush Presidential blue carpeting and deep, cherry wood tones. The "office" was small and further crowded by those of us present for the meeting. De la Madrid was comfortably seated, as was Jack Valenti. I was not privy to Valenti’s exact role in opening the Juarez border, I only know that he was well educated lo the particulars of this meeting. Dante and I remained standing since we would be leaving as quickly as I heard what Reagan, who was shuttling papers and pacing the room, had to say.

"Well, Kitten," Reagan said to me, "This is your death sentence. You’ll go out in a blaze of glory."

I was not surprised to receive confirmation of my imminent death by Reagan. I had heard about death by fire from seemingly everyone involved in establishing "free trade," through Mexico, of our nation’s children for drags. Reagan’s use of patriotic metaphors and puns while matter-of-factly informing me he ordered my death was reflective of his often displayed lack of respect for human life.
 
What reflected his character even more were the crimes he was involved in that prompted him to cover-up through "sentencing" me to death. I had witnessed the criminal foundations of NAFTA, which in turn could threaten the successful implementation of the New World Order should these secrets ever be revealed. Initial "Free Trade" including drugs and white slavery extended beyond the U.S./Mexican border. It routed U.S. traumatized, robotic, mind-controlled children into Saudi Arabia, while building up weapon stockpiles in Nicaragua and Iraq.
 
Although I was considered to be no threat, predicated on the (erroneous) belief that I could not be deprogrammed to regain my memory of these events, my death would provide extra insurance to those involved. I was nearly "used up" anyway, and recording my death via "Snuff Film" was agreed upon as proof to De la Madrid and other leaders at risk, that I had indeed been silenced through death, I could not think to respond to Reagan’s "death sentence". Dante wanted to make sure I grasped the point as he graphically expounded,

"The next time I ignite your (sexual) flame, Baby, it will consume you, body and soul. And you will burn, Baby, burn. And I’ll take your ashes and scatter them to the wind. I’m going to blow you away. On film."

Upon hearing something cryptic to which he could relate. Valenti laughed at Dante’s twist of words. Referring to the old, porn, blue pencil editing term "Blue movies," he added, "Blue blazes".

Dante laughed with him.

"We’ll call it ’Who In Blue Blazes Was That?’ Or, how ’bout ’Cream-Ate’?"

De la Madrid noticed Reagan was not laughing and said, "That’s like erasing a Mercedes to film a stunt," He leaned forward in his chair closer to Reagan, lowered his voice and said, "It is my desire to have seven just like her roll off the assembly Line and shipped to me prior to the agreement’s completion."

Reagan agreed, responding, "Those (blonde-haired, blue-eyed) fine kids on the relay to Saudi Arabia are top of the line, but they don’t have what she’s got."

"Two faced Ones are hard to come by," de la Madrid quipped, referring to my vaginal mutilation and Presidential programming code.
 
He cut his eyes over to me, touched himself and cryptically continued, "—from one perspective, anyway. And I like having ’One’ I can ’count on."

Reagan chuckled while Dante shifted his feet and unfolded his arms long enough to cough-laugh. Valenti seemed to be bored of clichés or was missing many of the cryptic double meanings, but judging from the tone of the meeting, that was just as well.


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"I’ll mention it to Bobby (Byrd) and delegate your order to him," Reagan told his Mexican counterpart. "It should be relatively simple to slip one in for you every few shipments or so once the Juarez border is open to such free trade activities as planned."

Reagan spoke as though he were distracted and thinking of something else, even when he looked my direction.

"If you please, Sir," I began, "I have the Presidential Seal of Approval and am prepared to fulfill my role." Dante looked at his watch, aware that I was scheduled to be at the Juarez border by the "stroke of midnight". Reagan walked over to see the paper I had received from de la Madrid the night before.

"OK. Well, farewell. Kitten," Reagan said, as he kissed my cheek. He added in Oz cryptic, "I’ll see you on the other side (of the rainbow in D.C.). Click your heels..."

My world spun black. Someone had hit me with a powerful stun gun and I was down, feeling as though Dante was half dragging me as he led me to his car, which was already idling in the circular drive. We soon pulled up to the motor home at the gas station on Hollywood Boulevard, where he had picked Kelly and me up several days before. Kelly was already in the motor home, vomiting sick and horribly traumatized.


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She had been convinced by someone that I had been killed. Houston attempted to create a hypnotically induced "time slip," acting as though I had only been gone a few minutes. We drove quickly, stopping only for fuel in order that I be in Juarez at the appointed time.

There I robotically presented the Presidential Seal of Approval to the proper officials as programmed, officially opening the border to "Free Trade" of crimes against humanity. Houston and I had hurried across the Juarez border where we were met by the Mexican official in charge. The guard looked to be in his late 40s, with classic, rugged, Mexican features. He stood approximately 5’ 11", had black hair, an unkempt moustache, black beady eyes and a paunchy belly protruding over his short, squat legs.

He spoke excitedly in Spanish, with a harsh, cold lone to his voice as he spit out the necessary words in English, "Give me the Seal", He snapped his fingers, impatiently hurrying me. He took the Presidential seal and knocked me face down on top of a small, barren metal desk while he closely inspected the document. Even Houston was unusually quiet while this particular uniformed guard paced the small tower room, sweating profusely while he talked on his walkie talkie.


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Finally, he accessed and verified the bank transaction codes provided through whom he said was George Bush, Jr. He concluded the encounter by taking a stun gun from his belt and jolting me with it, supposedly to erase my memory.

I was nauseated and weak from high voltage and the ordeal as Houston and I made our way back across the border. My empty stomach rolled, prompting Houston to lie, "I told you not to drink the water". In reality, I had had nothing to drink since the champagne at the Hotel California, and I hadn’t eaten in days. I was thoroughly exhausted when we reached the motor home in El Paso, but Houston was sexually aroused from cocaine and the criminal events that merged Mexico with the U.S. at the Juarez border.

[Bluegreen]

THE LIZARD OF AHS

Chapter 29


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After the opening of the Juarez border, I was kept actively busy according to the plan to "use me up" before my 30th birthday death sentence. I was subjected to a brutal (near death gang rape) "celebration benefit" at an identified Masonic Lodge in Warren, Ohio to "celebrate the free trade benefits" gained by involved East Coast politicos. Centers such as the nearby Youngstown "Charm School" went into mass production of slaves to mule drugs or be part of the mind-controlled sex slave "trance-sport operations". Mexico was not the only country reaping the economic benefits of criminal free trade.

After Kelly’s ordeal in California, Dante and Houston were criminally exploiting her for literally "all she was worth". Subsequently, she missed an extraordinary amount of schooling. When she was in school, she was experiencing difficulty with her peers. These factors prompted plans to send her to a local Catholic school the next year, where her unusual behavior would be overlooked and covered up.

Soon thereafter, Senator Byrd came to Nashville to fiddle at the Grand Ole Opry and, as my handler Houston remarked, "fiddle around with me" at the Opryland Hotel. Byrd explained that close association with me had become volatile due to my roles in Iran-Contra and NAFTA, and therefore he would be distancing himself from me. He spent most of "our last night together" working on his memoirs for a voluminous book on the U.S. Constitution he was writing (now published at taxpayers’ expense), which focuses on his long-winded Senate (filibuster) speeches.


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Byrd attempted to strengthen my programmed "loyalty bond" to him to keep me quiet "until death do us part". He told me, "If it was up to me, I would let you live." He talked at length about how our time together had been infringed upon by both de la Madrid and Reagan. Bitterness over their stronger controls on me was evident as he mocked their self appointed roles as the Wizard and Lizard of Oz.
 
De la Madrid’s fascination with U.S. mind-controlled slaves reportedly inspired him to combine Bush’s lizard-like alien themes and his reputed Mayan roots/lizard man theories with Reagan’s Oz themes to claim the role of Lizard of Ahs. From Byrd’s ramblings, it appeared that his mockery of their roles was due to their having decided how "his" slave would die, and had nothing to do with caring that I would be killed. Byrd maintained his "bonding" programming charade all night. He played his fiddle and sang "to me" in place of his usual torturous whipping and brutality. Sex was, for the first and last time, painless.

Byrd had not distanced himself too far from me, though, where government operations were concerned. When I was "over the rainbow" in D.C. during the summer of ’87, it was business as usual with Byrd. I was escorted to Goddard Space Flight Center where Byrd was waiting for me in a sterile hallway near the brass-trimmed, mirrored elevators. He was loaded down with items, which he deposited on a small table as he greeted me.
 
He picked up a NASA ID badge and clipped it on my nipple, the metal teeth biting me with their serrated edges. When I (softly) cried out, he said, "Oh OK. I'll wear it," removed it, and clipped it on his white lab coat. He handed me a NASA lab coat like his and a white hard bat. His hard hat suggestively and "humorously" said HARD in bold red letters. My hat said NASA, in a mirror reversal of the standard bold red lettering.


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When I read it in a mirror, it appeared as though I were on the wrong side of the mirror and needed to step through (according to Alice In Wonderland/NASA programming). It also clearly indicated to those-in-the- know that I was under mind control. Byrd looked at his pocket watch prompting a wave of terror in me, and said in Wonderland cryptic, "We’re late. As the elevator drops down the rabbit hole, we’ll reverse time in order to get there a few minutes early."

Byrd spun me around to face the elevator’s mirrored doors saying, "Look deep into the mirror and be all that you can be by becoming infinitely lost in all that you see." Byrd timed his hypnotic induction so that when he ordered. "Step through the mirror," the doors opened and we stepped through.

As the elevator supposedly went "down 99 (taken from Aquino’s corny reversal of 66) levels to the depths of hell," Byrd told me the Earth "spins faster and faster at the core, causing us to spiral downward in a tornado effect." I dropped deeper in my hypnotic trance. The elevator doors opened to what appeared to me as an exact replica of the floor we just left. However, this floor’s hallway led to a computer room and sanitized-looking lab area.


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Several of the scientists working there were amused by our hats, prompting Byrd to ham up his comedic act, Byrd ignored the fact that these NASA workers, like many others, may have deliberately stroked his entertainer’s ego because they relied on his appropriations for funding, Byrd made me robotically announce to the workers,

"He’s taking me to your leader."

"I’m the Commander, here," the apparent director of the underground lab said. The workers again busied themselves as he stood, arms folded defensively across his chest, while his bespectacled intelligent eyes darted the room surveying the situation.
 
The Commander had a few, grey strands salting his short, dark hair, yet his build was surprisingly youthful and trim for his age. He and Byrd apparently knew each other quite well. Byrd strode over to him, dragging me along.
 
"Tom," Byrd called to his 50ish 6’ 1" friend. "This is your specimen of the day that I promised I would deliver. I will be most interested to see what you can deliver since diplomatic relations with Mexico depends on it. Not that I want to increase any pressure you may feel, but we need seven more just like her to stuff in the mouth of his royal Lizardry (de la Madrid) to keep him from spilling his guts on the project."

"It’s just as well, my friend," the Commander said, stroking his chin without uncrossing his arms. "That way he can’t talk without implicating himself."

"That’s the way the Chief feels about it," Byrd agreed. "He’s already in deep anyway, but this order (for slaves) hits him closer to home since they’ll be serving him personally."

We walked to a clinical, sanitized area that had a maze of small rooms where I was undressed and prepped for the lab. A nurse of sorts injected me with the NASA "Tranquility" drug and instructed me to put my lab coat back on. "Walk this way," she ordered as she led me down the hall, swinging her hips in an exaggerated manner. I immediately complied. The Tranquility drug had no recreational affects, but produced an attitude of peaceful compliance to all orders given. As we approached the theater-type lab, a small group of men who would be in attendance were talking with Byrd and the so-called Commander. They looked at us and laughed at my literal compliance to walk like the nurse.

I was then led by the Commander to a "backstage" entrance which was actually a glass-encased lab surrounded by seats in ascending rows. Scientists in NASA lab coats looked down on the lab table where I lay as the Commander wired me up to a computerized machine. A camera was positioned high in one comer of the room, filming all that transpired.
 
I was aware through conversations between Byrd and the Commander that de la Madrid had requested a video of the latest advancements in mind-control technique being used to create his seven slaves. In reality, the camera was filming scientific methodisms salted with "comic" misinformation as a humorous "no" to his request.

Since I was considered "used up" and my death was imminent, the Commander told the scientists to "feel free to **** the lab specimen", "But first," he said, "before you satisfy your mental and physical curiosities sampling the President’s (Reagan’s) wares, we must satisfy El Presidente’s (de La Madrid’s) perverse intellect with a little space humor." He turned to one of the technical workers and said,

"You’re going to have to edit this tape for de La Madrid’s benefit and take this part out while we prepare her for an ’off color’ chameleon joke."


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A live lizard encased in a glass test tube of sorts was inserted in my vagina. The camera was focused on the area while my legs were spread in a birthing position. Acting as though I had conceived while having sex with de la Madrid, the Commander said,

"Now for the finished product, which in layman’s terms equates to the reproductive offspring of a Lizard breeding machine."

He dramatically snapped on a rubber glove and probed me as though he were giving me a gynecological exam. In fact, he was opening the trap door of the Lizard’s tube to turn him out. Very slowly, the sluggish lizard poked his head out of my vagina and crawled out onto the metal table,

"This concludes all of the experimentation demonstration of the cloning of a Presidential model," the Commander said.

I apparently had been selected as the prototype for the seven programmed slaves de La Madrid had requested. De la Madrid was interested in NASA programmed staves that would be vaginally mutilated like I was. He was sexually obsessed with the hideous carving. I have no way of knowing what, if any, technological advancements were actually provided to de la Madrid via the film. I only know that deliberate misinformation tainted the methodologies depicted, and that I had never experienced programming or testing before or at the time by any such methods.

This video created for "his Royal Lizardry" was one of many cryptic lizard themes that NASA used in its Mexican operations. All of my programmed roles in Mexico involved the prolific, local, iguana lizards. De la Madrid had relayed the "legend of the Iguana" to me, explaining that lizard-like Aliens had descended upon the Mayans. The Mayan pyramids, their advanced astronomical technology, including the sacrifice of virgins, was supposedly inspired by the lizard aliens.


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He told me that when the aliens interbred with the Mayans to produce a form of life they could inhabit, they fluctuated between a-human and Iguana appearance through chameleon-like abilities. "A perfect vehicle for transforming into world leaders." De la Madrid claimed to have Mayan/alien ancestry in his blood, whereby he transformed "back into an Iguana at will." De la Madrid produced a hologram similar to the one Bush did in his You Are What You Read initiation.
 
His hologram of lizard-like tongue and eyes produced the illusion that he was transforming into an Iguana. While in Mexico, I was always ordered to wait by rocks where the abundant Iguanas sunned before being "trance-ported" to my scheduled meetings with "his Royal Lizardry," the Lizard of Ahs.

[Bluegreen]

IN THE INTEREST OF TIME AND SPACE

Chapter 30

Senator Patrick Leahy (D-Vermont), who served as vice chairman on the U.S. Senate Intelligence Committee in 1985-86, was a "friend" of Senator Byrd. Leahy’s position on Byrd’s Senate Appropriations Committee, coupled with his former position in Intelligence, afforded him an inordinate amount of power and influence. While I had cause to have contact with Senator Leahy on numerous occasions, Kelly was apparently more familiar with him than I. This was evidenced by our meeting with him in Vermont in the late summer of 1985.


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Patrick Leahy


Alex Houston was booked to "entertain" at the State Fair in Rutland, Vermont. The entire trip proved to be a whirlwind of covert activity for me, during which time I obtained a packet of papers from an unidentified operative with orders to hand deliver them to Senator Leahy. Kelly had been kept as busy as I, since Boxcar Willie and other CIA operative pedophiles were in abundance at the fair in Leahy’s home state.

President Reagan had given me specific orders to carry out while in Vermont, which included delivering a message to "Patrick" for him. He also told me,

"When you go to Vermont, be sure and go by ("buy") LL Bean."

Literally interpreting what he suggested, I asked, "The whole store?"

"No," Reagan laughed. "I meant stop by there. I didn’t mean buy the whole store. I already own it. Just buy a few things, like a black LL Bean Swiss Army Knife."


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When Reagan said he "already owned" LL Bean, I thought he was referring to the amount of shopping he did there." He wore LL Bean shirts, sweaters, and slippers; slept on LL Bean flannel sheets in his LL Bean pajamas; and carried his "Presidential" black, LL Bean, Swiss Army Knife, with which he cleaned his fingernails.

But I learned the real significance of Reagan’s statement when I "stopped by" the Vermont LL Bean outlet on the final day of Houston’s lengthy Vermont State Fair engagement. Black LL Bean Swiss Army Knives were a coded indicator of White House-level operations.


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LL Bean Retail Outlet – Burlington, Vermont


The LL Bean outlet, located near the fop of supposedly the highest mountain in the pristine forest, appeared to be a store front for CIA covert activity. When I asked the ’clerk’ assigned to Kelly and me for a black, Swiss Army Knife, his response was indicative of familiarity with government covert operations. Using the old familiar statement (trigger), he ordered Kelly and me to "Walk this way," as he led us through a storage area and out the back door. There, a black, unmarked helicopter was waiting on a pad for us.



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The pilot flew us a short distance to the top of a mountain, where we landed in a clearing next to a house that appeared to have no other access. The place was run like a fortress, and two guards in suits met us as Kelly and I emerged from the helicopter. The guards escorted us into the house, keeping Kelly while I met with Senator Leahy.

I walked into an office-type room that had a panoramic view of the wilderness, where Leahy was leaning against a highly polished, wooden desk. He was wearing an orange flannel shirt that lost its purpose in crispness. It was my experience that Leahy’s surroundings, like his appearance, were as sanitized as possible.

I delivered the documents and message as ordered. Leahy then proceeded to explain that he was aware that my death was imminent due to my groundwork participation in NAFTA, and that subsequently Kelly would be traded to the West Coast pornography operation. Not only did he obviously want to join in on "using me up" before my 30th birthday, but he had "tracks" to cover-up where Kelly was concerned.

Most of my traumatic encounters with Leahy were alien-themed, but he often relied on my Catholic upbringing to drive his points into my mind. From my perspective, Leahy was unquestionably one of the most intelligent criminals of this entire Shadow Government. His carefully contrived chameleon-like characteristics provided him the latitude of appearing to share the principals and beliefs of whomever he was masterfully manipulating on both a national and international level.
 
He won Reagan’s respect through their shared diplomatic ties to the Vatican, and his Irish-Catholic heritage. While he appeared publicly to oppose Byrd on Senate Appropriations issues, they actually worked together behind the scenes in their shared world dominance efforts.
 
Again from my perspective, Leahy was a loner who had his own agenda and answered to no one I knew. Leahy’s intelligence was often manifested to me by triple depth meaning to his words and actions. Everything he did was for a deeper purpose, and this trip to Vermont proved to be no different.

Kelly and I had been given what felt like a sophisticated variation of the NASA CIA-designer drug, Tranquility, which turned us into the robotic mind- controlled slaves that Senator Leahy preferred. As the drug was overtaking me, I attentively listened to what Leahy was saying.

"God condones that one," Leahy said, referring to both my role in NAFTA and his pedophile abuse of my daughter.

"Of course, God is not the one you need to be concerned with. He is a passive God, One who’s passed on and lives only in a Bible. The God you need to be concerning yourself with is the all-seeing, all-knowing God. That great, big, Eye in the Sky. It sees all, records all, and transmits the information right where it’s needed.
 
Let me give you some sound advice - Keep your mouth shut and none of this need be known anywhere. Only your Vice President (Bush) will know for sure, and he’s been keeping secrets all his life. I’m not suggesting George Bush is God. Oh no, he is much more than that. He is a semi-God, which means he is straddling the heavenly and earthly planes in order that he take action on what he sees with his ever watchful Eye In The Sky."

Content with his metaphorical manipulation of my literal mind, he finished, "Now, that’s enough fore-play. Go get the kid."

Kelly was standing quietly and robotically just outside the door with the two guards. They ushered us down the hall, through an ornately carved door, and into Leahy’s bedroom. The room was highly effeminate for a man, decorated in pastels, white eyelet, and huge billowy pillows. When the Senator walked in, Kelly groaned, "Noooo, not you again." Leahy signaled Kelly with his hand, thus switching her into total silence and submission.


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Then, accessing specific personality fragments that previously re-compartmentalized in my mind from Bush’s and Byrd’s sexual abuse of Kelly, Leahy began undressing. His pale skin looked even whiter against the white eyelet sheets, which seemed to accentuate the perversity of his pedophile actions with my daughter that I was forced to watch. His torturous abuse complete, Leahy ordered Kelly and me to follow him downstairs to his "torture lab".

I had seen and experienced basement "spy conditioning" torture chambers before both in the U.S. and Mexico, and Leahy’s "torture lab" looked more like a NASA lab. His access to the latest advancements in electronic/drug mind-control technology was consistent with his ability to use it. I was immediately strapped to a cold, chrome and stainless steel table by the two guards. Leahy began reciting, "Cross your heart and hope to die, Stick a needle in your eye".
 
A wirey "needle" was pushed slowly into my right eye while Kelly was forced to watch. This entire ordeal was directed for trauma purposes primarily at Kelly since Leahy figured I would be dead soon anyway. "If you holler, if you cry, Kelly will be the first to die. Pray to God and Bush will hear, because his Eye now has an ear."

Leahy interrupted his poem to explain that I was now a "computer-eyed" link-up to Bush’s Eye in the Sky, with the needle-like "antenna" transmitting every word Kelly spoke. He continued with me, "Each word you speak, each breath you sigh, ’Your eye trance-mits to the Eye in the Sky". Kelly believed it, which locked her into silence. Leahy’s secret was safe - for the moment.


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While I was literally out of my mind from intense pain, Leahy utilized the opportunity to program me with what he said was financial information to deliver to Byrd. This required no "personality", therefore the shattered fragments Leahy had deliberately shifted me into when raping Kelly would be ideal to "computer-eyes" his message. He told me that my body was a conduit to link him up to the Eye in the Sky, where he was transmitting the information for storage until such time as Byrd accessed it. "Only the tiniest little prick can access the computer-eyesd’ storage bank," Leahy said, laughing at his own double meaning mockery of Byrd’s penis size.

This was not the first time Leahy transferred apparently sensitive U.S. Government intelligence information to Byrd through me. I had photographically recorded numbers in my mind’s "computer banks" ever since Leahy prepared me for the task some months before at White Sands Missile Base in New Mexico. It was there in the TOP SECRET mind-control area of the base that Leahy subjected me to extreme tortures and high-tech programming.


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White Sands Missile Base New Mexico – 100 miles long X 40 miles wide


Combining purposes as usual, Leahy was saying, "Funding will continue to be approved as long as (mind-control) Projects such as this continue to receive your full attention". I was treated like a lab animal with no apparent regard for whether I lived or died. I was put in an electrified metal walled and floored cell, referred to by some as the woodpecker grid, which provided inescapable physical torture.

In spite of his tortures, intelligence, high-tech methodism, and sophisticated mind manipulations, Senator Leahy failed to cover his "secrets"—including his sexual abuse of Kelly. He did succeed, however, in causing Kelly and me to be hospitalized from his torturous abuses upon our return to Tennessee. I had suffered excruciating pain and irreparable damage to my right eye, while Kelly psychosomatically suffered respiratory failure due to his extreme traumas. The physical manifestations of the psychological devastation wreaked on us by Senator Leahy failed to raise questions from outsiders as to the cause.

Equally worthy of mention are numerous other high profile perpetrators that Kelly and I had exposure to over the years. These individuals, in spite of the CIA’s "need-to-know" M.O. of maintaining "the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing," were in positions to be knowledgeable of Kelly’s and my victimizations. All of them accessed our programming either for drug distribution, banking/message delivery, mind-control demonstrations, or, most often, for their perverse sexual gratification.

These too numerous individuals and events are significant chapters in my life who, in the interest of time and space, will be fully exposed in a forthcoming book. Rather than point a finger at these individuals for reasons of "vengeance" (there is none comparable), they must be publicly identified for all our sakes and, above all, for our children’s sakes.
 
Therefore, a list of perpe-Traitors has been compiled and strategically distributed for posterity, as well as to prevent these individuals from interfering in any Congressional hearings that should be forthcoming as a result of this exposure.

[Bluegreen]

THE KING AND EYE

Chapter 31
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Saudi Arabia threaded in and out of most operations in which I was involved, primarily due to their purchase and routing of weapons, drugs, and blond-haired, blue-eyed programmed children. According to George Bush’s claims, Saudi Arabia was in essence a controlled financial arm of the United States. Saudi Arabian King Fahd and his Ambassador to the U.S., Prince Bandar, provided a front for the unconstitutional and criminal covert operations of the U.S.

This included the arming of Iraq and the Nicaraguan Contras; U.S. involvement in the Bank of Credit and Commerce International (B.C.C.I.) scandal; and funding of the Black Budget through purchase of our nation’s children to be used as sex slaves and camel jockeys. Since the U.S. "won" control of the drug industries through the so-called Drug Wars, Saudi Arabia played an integral role in distribution.

It was my experience that Bush’s claim of having Saudi Arabian King Fahd as his puppet was, in fact, reality. It was only natural that criminal diplomatic relations with Mexico interface with Saudi Arabia under the circumstances. After all, King Fahd and Mexican President Miguel de la Madrid were active members of George Bush’s elite "Neighborhood" in the New World Order. Before I left Washington, D.C., it, was "my duty as a (programmed) American Patriot" to participate in initiating the King and Eye branch of Operation Greenbacks for Wetbacks.


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L'Enfante Hotel, today known as The Hilton Washington DC National Mall The Wharf


While plans were being finalized for a clandestine 3:00 A.M. meeting at L’Enfante Hotel which I would be attending, I was rushed around D.C. gathering last minute messages and information. I had no choice in leaving Kelly at Bush’s Residence Office where Houston had dropped us off earlier in the day for my initial briefing. Congressman Guy VanderJagt was in Bush’s office along with Dick Cheney when we arrived. Before taking Kelly upstairs to the residence area, VanderJagt told Bush his story about taking my virginity when I was a small child. He recommended Bush do the same to Kelly before someone else "beat him to it". Bush laughed and replied, "What makes you think I haven’t?""

VanderJagt took Kelly by the hand and led her upstairs while Bush and Cheney began giving me my instructions. Bush joked about working "grave yard" in the "shadows" for "the White House night shift" of the King and Eye operation. Cheney began my instructions with the usual threat to Kelly’s life, and was interrupted by a phone call ordering me over to the White House.

The whole time I was gone, I experienced a sensation of panic and dread at having had to leave Kelly at Bush’s. Although I could not think to reason, the Shasta experience had left me with an incomprehensible subconscious fear for Kelly’s life that was compounded by Cheney’s most recent threats. I was apprehensive when I was returned to Bush’s house late that evening for completion of my instructions. A party was underway, and I was dismayed to see the place so crowded yet void of children.

As I made my way through the crowd, Cheney saw me and started across the room towards me, I spotted VanderJagt nearby, who had been drinking excessively, and anxiously asked him where Kelly was. He said, "Upstairs sleeping, George is expecting you". I wanted desperately to go to Kelly, but Cheney, who was drunk as usual, had reached me by that time.

"Walk this way," Cheney slurred. He imitated the Oz Scarecrow’s walk as he led me through the middle of the crowd to Bush’s office. Bush was busy behind his desk, and his tension was apparent. He said,

"Phil Habib is doing a number on his highness’ (Fahd’s) head, I want you to do a number on his ’dick’."

"Please," Dick Cheney groaned at the term. "That means give him a Royal ****ing. Wear him out. You’re going on a magic carpet ride tonight, little Genie, down through the rabbit hole, through the mirror and we’ll meet you on the other side."


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King “Elmer” Fahd and “Big” Dick Cheney


"Good. He’d better have a smile on his face when we walk in (to the 3:00 A.M. meeting)," Bush told me as I went out the door. "If you do your part right, he will."

I was escorted to L’Enfante Hotel where I was to be prostituted to King Fahd. I had been exposed to him sexually before, but this was my first time with him and his five young girls. Physical likeness characteristics strongly suggested that these Saudi Arabian girls were his own children.

Their ages ranged from approximately ten to twenty years old. Indicating Genie-in-the-Bottle programming, of which Fahd was familiar, I bowed and said, "Your wish is my command", Fahd’s first wish was for information, which I told him I would deliver later at the meeting. Fahd "disrobed" as his girls removed my dress. Then they "prepared" me as ordered by "washing me" with their tongues, while the youngest briefly performed oral sex on him.

The girls were ordered aside while I proceeded to sexually gratify Fahd according to his instruction and those I had received earlier from Cheney and Bush. When I finished doing "my part" in the name of "Diplomatic Relations," Habib was at the door to escort me out. I was to meet with Fahd again at 3:00 A.M. in Habib’s suite.

As I stepped out the door, Habib was impatiently hopping up and down like be was energized from cocaine. Using his role as White Rabbit, he said in Wonderland cryptic, "We’re late! We’re late! For a very important date!" He led me downstairs to the entrance of the hotel, where Bush and Cheney had just walked in looking ridiculously conspicuous in their trench coats.

Bush immediately ordered Habib, "Call in" and gestured to the phone across the lobby. Habib turned and hurried for the phone. Cheney dashed up the stairs, leaving me alone with Bush. Bush said, referring to Habib, "Don’t you love to see the wabbit hop?"


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When Cheney returned a moment later, my (identified) Secret Service escort led me to the boutique area of the hotel to wait while the meeting in Habib’s suite got under way. I had endured water deprivation for some time, which my escort noted as we sat near a fountain. He told me his orders were, "You can lead a whore to water, but you can’t let her drink." He teased me further, stating that he knew I could "suck the humps of a thousand camels dry." At last, he took me on to the meeting in Habib’s room, where Bush, Cheney, Fahd, and Habib were in the midst of discussion.

Bush accessed the messages and bank transaction details I was programmed with at Shasta, and ordered me to relay an account of my meeting with de La Madrid and subsequent opening of the Juarez border. The complexities of this meeting, compounded by my being privy only to certain parts, should not be documented here out of context.

I do know that Bush was setting the stage for implementing the New World Order, using Mexico and Saudi Arabia’s roles for cover and for further expansion of U.S. covert criminal activity. This included the arming of Iraq with weapons and chemical warfare capabilities. The message Reagan had me programmed with earlier that day was further evidence of this.

I delivered Reagan’s message to King Fahd as ordered:

"Greetings to King Fahd from President Reagan. The negotiations you are about to embark on are not only critical to the world peace process, but may solidify U.S.-Saudi relations beyond your wildest expectations. You have my word that what appears to be the building up of forces in Iraq is but a mirage in the whirlwind. And when this operation is completed and the dust finally settles, you will see that the sands have shifted in time, running out on our adversaries and shifting all power and control to our unified effort.

United we stand to conquer all in the name of world peace and world order, and I am confident that together we can not fail. The more Saddam destroys is that much less for us to do and deal with when we implement the Order. In the meantime, we all have much to gain and not a moment to lose."

It was raining by the time I was escorted back to Bush’s residence where Houston was waiting to take Kelly and me back to Tennessee.

[Bluegreen]

A PLACE TO RUN, NO NEED TO HIDE

Chapter 32

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Alex Houston had maintained his capacitor distributing business cover throughout the years, routinely changing company names and customers. By summer’s end in 1987, Houston had stumbled onto a legitimate sales inquiry from the Peoples Republic of China, Unable to profitably manage a legal business, he look on a partner whom he said checked out to have a curious but inconclusive association in U.S. Intelligence.
 
This partner was Mark Phillips. Houston had forbid me from meeting Mark until his background check was completed and his allegiances understood. As much as he was intrigued with Mark’s past, Houston was enthralled with his propensity for conducting inter- national business. In exchange for Mark’s cooperation, Houston and he formed a legal corporation. Mark Phillips became President and CEO of Uniphayse. It wasn’t long thereafter that he won Houston’s confidence through repeated professional successes, and Houston permitted me to meet him.

I sensed right away that Mark was very different from the other men I encountered routinely. He treated me as though I were a person, and his eyes revealed no sexual interest in me at all. Instead of discussing world domination, slavery, pornography, drugs, and genocide like the other men I knew, he introduced me to the raccoons he had years ago rescued from certain death and then tamed. I was deeply impressed with how his "wild" pets loved and trusted him. I could not think to trust, ask for help, or even question at the time what it was that made Mark different.

In the fall of 1987, Kelly was enrolled in Nashville, Tennessee’s St. Pius Catholic School. Her unusual behaviors were addressed in school counseling, but their causes and/or origins were never addressed. Kelly still laughs at the absurdity of being counseled to vent her "anger" by scribbling the source of her anger on a piece of paper and then jumping on it. With her "anger" being caused by extreme physical and psychological tortures and sexual abuse, it could not be so simplistically relieved.
 
Houston had forbidden Kelly to display emotion, and had so conditioned her. Once, when he savagely beat her for laughing, I huddled in a corner holding her for hours. That did not positively affect her enormous nurturing needs any more than jumping on a piece of paper. With tears streaming down her face, she opened her bedroom curtains and cried out to what she believed was "Bush’s Eye in the Sky". "Why do you hate me? Why do you hate me so much, world, when I love you? I want to die now. I can’t take it any more."

That, as evidenced by the near death asthma attack she endured, further proved that Houston’s tortures were too much for a seven-year-old child to co- exist with. In retrospect, that remaining part of her mind that could question why her existence was too horrible to comprehend was locked away- And so it goes in the "life" of a mind-controlled slave.

In December 1987, my 30th birthday launched the final countdown to my death. Houston was in regular contact with Michael Dante (as telephone receipts prove), and arrangements were finalized for Kelly and me to be transferred to California. There, I was supposed to be burned alive in a snuff pornography film and Kelly would become the property of Dante. But first, I had orders to conclude my part in Operation Greenbacks for Wetbacks by meeting with de la Madrid.
 
Houston had booked a New Year’s NCL cruise to Mexico for all three of us. Kelly and I were walking among the Mexican pyramid ruins in Tulum, when Houston pointed out an iguana lizard sunning itself on a rock near the parking lot. As Kelly and I approached the iguana, two Mexican Secret Servicemen emerged from a dark blue Mercedes.
 
They used the keys, codes, and triggers to our programming that had been provided them to hypnotically create the illusion that the iguana was trance-forming into de la Madrid. This control technique was to build an amnesic block to ensure against memory recall.

In reality, we were transported by automobile to de La Madrid’s tacky museum-style house nearby. There, Kelly and I were taken into his all too familiar bedroom by a uniformed matronly woman. De la Madrid’s bed was a king-size waterbed set in a dark wood canopy frame. This time the bedspread was a plush black-blood red, which de la Madrid pointed out to Kelly as he set her on the bed. It was my experience that de la Madrid’s bed was in itself a NASA technology adventure.

Mounted inside of the canopy was a movie screen where de La Madrid viewed porn videos and/or NASA-provided films. From his bed I saw replicas of the NASA Goldstar multi-screen monitors that were routinely used in "experimental" mind-control conditioning. By filming the actual NASA multi-screen grouped monitors, the resultant video provided the illusion of seeing a Goldstar multi-screen when shown on a (single) screen such as was built into de la Madrid’s bed canopy.
 
For example, once when I was in his bed, the same light blue sky with moving clouds was depicted on the monitor screens that NASA had used to lock-in my programming "Somewhere in Time," de la Madrid showed on his canopy movie screen. He further enhanced the effect by having me hypnotically "float/drift" on his waterbed which he had covered with a spread of similar light blue sky with clouds print.
 
My previous NASA programming was easily accessed "Somewhere in Time" through this simple, but nevertheless complex visual triggering method. The pornography shown was of me from previous taping, alternating with a built-in video camera projecting our sex acts onto the screen as they occurred.

This time de la Madrid said, "Let us end where we began...," referring to my witnessing the rape of my daughter in Shasta. He ordered me to undress and recline against the headboard of his bed. At the foot of the bed, he began pulling Kelly’s jeans off as he said,

"You gave birth to her, just as you gave birth to the border agreement, and now your role is through on both counts. The tears she will shed as you burn cannot extinguish the flames of passion you have passed on to her. Your intense sexuality has been regenerated in her, and this hormonal experiment in genetics will successfully evolve for generations to come.
 
Your role is complete. And thanks to my friends in Washington, NASA has perfected the formula and given birth to the technology of mirrored procreation using recreated bloodlines. The only detectable difference makes the blood run cold. Reptilian. See for yourself."

De la Madrid gestured up toward the canopy screen, where the NASA created video of my "giving birth" to the lizard was depicted. By this time, the NASA provided designer drug for mind control, "Tranquility," had been administered and was kicking in full force. My eyes were hypnotically fixed on the video as he began performing oral sex on my daughter.
 
She, too, was rendered helplessly defenseless by the drug and quietly complied with his every demand. Using specific commands, de la Madrid ordered me to spread my legs and display the vaginal mutilation carving. He positioned himself over Kelly’s face, smothering her with his penis while he performed oral sex on my carving.

When at last we were returned to the NCL (Norwegian Cruise Lines) cruise ship, Kelly and I were vomiting sick from de la Madrid’s abuse and the high voltage trauma that followed. An unusually large shipment of cocaine and heroin had been loaded, which was transferred into the walls of our custom built motor home once we docked at Key Biscayne, Florida. Houston supposedly stayed aboard ship for the next week of his engagement, while I drove the motor home full of drugs and my sick daughter to Houston’s farm where we resided in Tennessee.

By the time Houston returned to Tennessee from his NCL cruise, Ken Riley had already emptied the motor home and dispersed the drugs as previously planned. The only business Houston had to attend was implementing the final phase of trance-ferring Kelly and me to Dante and being updated on Mark Phillips’ latest successes.

Houston immediately began programming me to not take anything but Kelly’s and my clothes when sent to Dante. At the same lime, Mark Phillips and I had reached a level of communication that was new to me. Although I had no conscious understanding of what he was saying, the truths he spoke resounded throughout the depths of my being. For instance, when he showed me his "Back to the Future" Delorean sports car, he wisely cryptically stated, "Sometimes you have to know where you’ve been in order to know where you’re going."

Just before Kelly and I were to leave for California, Mark asked me to help him force Houston out of business by providing him with the files on suspected (corporate) criminal activity that Houston kept hidden at our house. Not only did I gladly do so, but "somehow" I was able to ask for Help in return. I asked him to help Kelly and me get away from Houston before I was killed and Kelly was sentenced to a fate worse than death. Mark assured me that he would help.

The day Houston intended for Kelly and me to be transferred to Dante, I felt a strange compulsion to telephone Mark and notify him. That morning, Houston drove to Mark’s office believing he was going to meet with him later that day. But Mark had brought a team of movers to the house, and rescued Kelly and me. He had brilliantly intercepted us as we were being passed to our intended destination!
 
Mark even understood Kelly’s and my need to rescue our farm pets from Houston’s abuse. He not only found good homes for our live-stock, but he had arranged for them to be loaded and transferred during our frantic rush to move out of Houston’s house. Within two hours, Mark safely moved Kelly, me, our pets and livestock to freedom. Despite brilliant orchestration, pandemonium broke out when it was discovered that Kelly and I had been intercepted and detoured from our intended demise.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Mark said as he gently roused me with a cup of fresh coffee. "Welcome to a new day."

My eyes opened. I had never experienced such kindness before, and it seemed like a whole new world to me. Mark presented me with a beautiful watch, which he strapped on my wrist. Noting my wonder and surprise, he explained, "Now you will always know that I gave you the time of day."

The time of day? No one had ever given me their time before. They only took mine. And I never wore a watch before. I did not even know what month or year it was, let alone the tune of day. I had no concept of time, which Mark explained I must always monitor from that moment on.

"You say someone is trying to kill you. Why?" Mark asked.
 
I could not think to answer. I was totally amnesic. All three of us were now in grave jeopardy, literally dodging bullets while I desperately sought the answers. How could I have requested help when I did not even know who and/or what I was running from? Somewhere inside were the answers, and I intended to uncover them all. Fast. Now there were three lives on the line.

Mark understood that safety was tantamount to memory recovery. At the same time, none of us could be safe until I could recall who and what we were up against. Mark quickly sold everything he owned, including his DeLorean, retaining only basic necessities. He also sold the motor home which had been awarded me in my divorce from Alex Houston. Using these funds, Mark took Kelly and me to the peaceful wilderness of Alaska.

February 4, 1988 marked the beginning of life for Kelly and me, free from our mind-controlled existence. It also marked the beginning of a new kind of survival as we embarked on "The Most Dangerous Game" of international proportions. Despite death threats and attempts, intimidation and cover-ups, we have survived these past seven years by refusing to keep secrets - which is in itself "another story."

[Bluegreen]

Photos

http://trance-formation.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/trance-formation-of-america.gif

http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/transforusa/images/08.jpg

http://i.ytimg.com/vi/a9YKpKV3-SE/hqdefault.jpg

https://i.redd.it/6gjor7g90eh31.jpg

http://trance-formation.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/think-about-it.jpg

http://www.cieliparalleli.com/images/stories/033img2017/Cathy_O_Brient.jpg http://trance-formation.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/common-senses-300x150.jpg

[DNA]

Been reading along.
Thanks Bluegreen.
It's tough.
I listened to all of her available videos ten, twelve years ago..
But these spoon fed chapters help.

Any body know what's happened to Cathy?
Did she ever free her daughter Kelly?

[RunningDeer]

Been reading along.
Thanks Bluegreen.
It's tough.
I listened to all of her available videos ten, twelve years ago..
But these spoon fed chapters help.

Any body know what's happened to Cathy?
Did she ever free her daughter Kelly?


From transcript and podcast (https://trance-formation.com/live-the-love-you-are/):



“My daughter, Kelly, was being confined and abused in an ignorant and corrupted mental health and criminal justice system, and I couldn’t stop it any more than I had been able to protect either of us from our torturous MK Ultra mind control existence.”

“…I cried. I cried so many tears it felt as though I were drowning in them, totally immobilized by negativity while my daughter’s plight continued.”

“…We had a lot of “outthinking” do to as these perpeTraitors who use mind control as their ultimate, invisible WMD had sunk deep roots of corruption throughout society with black mail, coercion, and social engineering of the populace through their mockingbird media voice. My child, who had been trafficked to fund their dark agenda, was now caught in tentacles extending from their Wash DC swamp into so-called ‘child protective services’.”



http://paula.avalonlibrary.net/smilies/red-line.gif




I could only get through about 2/3 of TRANCE Formation of America. I started skimming because I wanted to know if Cathy and Mark were able to rescue Kelly. There was a chance that she’d never be recovered if they moved quickly because of the MK Ultra mind control. And also there was a minefield of red tape and financial difficulties that made it impossible to rescue her.

Mark Phillips died September 6, 2017 (https://trance-formation.com/in-loving-memory-of-mark-phillips/), and Cathy O’Brien has been doing interviews (https://trance-formation.com/video/) for the last couple of years.


"TRANCE Formation of America" @ trance-formation.com (https://trance-formation.com)
Cathy O'Brien lastest videos (https://trance-formation.com/video/)


CATHY O'BRIEN DISCUSSES TRUMP, MK ULTRA, CABAL VICTIM (51 min)

September 1, 2021
source (https://www.bitchute.com/video/AEFbRlo0qBq0/)


AEFbRlo0qBq0

[JackMcThorn]

I think this lady is looking for Shock Value in her writings. I couldn't handle reading some of her book because of how disgusting the story is. I mean it literally makes my stomach turn.

Which leads to many, many questions that do not seem to be answered. I searched for references that might think she is a hoax and I mostly just found this Wiki page.

I have discovered she is active on Twitter. Maybe she is being truthful. I haven't made up my mind yet, but I originally thought she was lying.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathy_O%27Brien_(conspiracy_theorist)

Religious and political scholars have criticized O'Brien's claims for their lack of any supporting evidence. David G. Robertson characterized them as symptomatic of "baseless" moral panic and noted that "no-one has ever been prosecuted of such crimes nor has any corroborating material evidence ever been produced".[8] According to scholar Michael Barkun, "scholarly and journalistic treatments of MKUltra make no mention of a Project Monarch". Barkun describes O'Brien's account as "sensational even by the standards of conspiracy literature" and notes that even black helicopter conspiracy theorist Jim Keith considered it "fraudulent or delusional".[5] Jodi Dean cited O'Brien's claims as an example of conspiracy theorists' tendency to excessive "leaps in imagination and willingness to deviate from common sense".

[ClearWater]

I think it's also worth noting that (to my knowledge) none of those she's accused have filed defamation cases.

[DNA]

Been reading along.
Thanks Bluegreen.
It's tough.
I listened to all of her available videos ten, twelve years ago..
But these spoon fed chapters help.

Any body know what's happened to Cathy?
Did she ever free her daughter Kelly?


From transcript and podcast (https://trance-formation.com/live-the-love-you-are/):



“My daughter, Kelly, was being confined and abused in an ignorant and corrupted mental health and criminal justice system, and I couldn’t stop it any more than I had been able to protect either of us from our torturous MK Ultra mind control existence.”

“…I cried. I cried so many tears it felt as though I were drowning in them, totally immobilized by negativity while my daughter’s plight continued.”

“…We had a lot of “outthinking” do to as these perpeTraitors who use mind control as their ultimate, invisible WMD had sunk deep roots of corruption throughout society with black mail, coercion, and social engineering of the populace through their mockingbird media voice. My child, who had been trafficked to fund their dark agenda, was now caught in tentacles extending from their Wash DC swamp into so-called ‘child protective services’.”



http://paula.avalonlibrary.net/smilies/red-line.gif




I could only get through about 2/3 of TRANCE Formation of America. I started skimming because I wanted to know if Cathy and Mark were able to rescue Kelly. There was a chance that she’d never be recovered if they moved quickly because of the MK Ultra mind control. And also there was a minefield of red tape and financial difficulties that made it impossible to rescue her.

Mark Phillips died September 6, 2017 (https://trance-formation.com/in-loving-memory-of-mark-phillips/), and Cathy O’Brien has been doing interviews (https://trance-formation.com/video/) for the last couple of years.


"TRANCE Formation of America" @ trance-formation.com (https://trance-formation.com)
Cathy O'Brien lastest videos (https://trance-formation.com/video/)


CATHY O'BRIEN DISCUSSES TRUMP, MK ULTRA, CABAL VICTIM (51 min)

September 1, 2021
source (https://www.bitchute.com/video/AEFbRlo0qBq0/)


AEFbRlo0qBq0


That is just horribly sad that she never got her little girl back.
The book and most of her speaking engagements were done over twenty years ago.
So it's tough to ascertain what exactly happened.
Thank you though.

[DNA]

I think this lady is looking for Shock Value in her writings. I couldn't handle reading some of her book because of how disgusting the story is. I mean it literally makes my stomach turn.

Which leads to many, many questions that do not seem to be answered. I searched for references that might think she is a hoax and I mostly just found this Wiki page.

I have discovered she is active on Twitter. Maybe she is being truthful. I haven't made up my mind yet, but I originally thought she was lying.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathy_O%27Brien_(conspiracy_theorist)

Religious and political scholars have criticized O'Brien's claims for their lack of any supporting evidence. David G. Robertson characterized them as symptomatic of "baseless" moral panic and noted that "no-one has ever been prosecuted of such crimes nor has any corroborating material evidence ever been produced".[8] According to scholar Michael Barkun, "scholarly and journalistic treatments of MKUltra make no mention of a Project Monarch". Barkun describes O'Brien's account as "sensational even by the standards of conspiracy literature" and notes that even black helicopter conspiracy theorist Jim Keith considered it "fraudulent or delusional".[5] Jodi Dean cited O'Brien's claims as an example of conspiracy theorists' tendency to excessive "leaps in imagination and willingness to deviate from common sense".

This is a tuff road to ho.
Kathy's story matches up with Bryce Taylor's story.
Further more it has puzzle pieces that fit with Sue Arrigo 's story of the same kind.
The Wendell Stevens documentary on Connor O'Brien matches up well also since that's a UFO type S4 area 51 type story.

Further more, the wiki leaks drops with Hillary Clinton's emails especially regarding John podesta seem to validate Cathy's story.
Isaac Kappy's story seems to match up as well.

This isn't the kind of thing that will be given a seal of approval or validation by mainstream. No one wants to acknowledge this kind of horror.

[Matthew]

...

AEFbRlo0qBq0


Cathy O'Brien in that video:


❝ What I experienced in MK Ultra mind control, …the same systematic formula is being used on society today; it is a systematic scientific formula of trauma and manipulation of the subconscious mind, and when people understand that, and gain that knowledge, they'll have a defence against it. ❞


Trauma for the subconscious, like the systematic slaughter of pets perhaps? That happened recently, and didn't make sense except with this branch of (evil) logic

[Bluegreen]

For me the question is:

How did she know that?

The story is fantastic in the dictionary sense of the word. To say that it stretches credulity may be an understatement. It is hard to imagine world leaders doing heroin, boozing it up and shooting guns at a hunting lodge. But, ah … wait a minute. Cheney did shoot a guy. At a hunting lodge. And there's more …

In 2011, I read this book. Then I read it again, the second time taking notes. Then I started looking up all the stuff in the notes, like military bases I never heard of, politicians and their itinerary, when they were where, even the Mandrell Sisters' tour dates. All kinds of weird stuff.

It all checked out.

Granted, it was fairly innocuous information. But how would she know about, even be aware of, such and such a military base. And, more importantly, why? And such and such a bar in Nashville. (How did she know about that?) And such and such a sultan, for goodness' sake. I must admit when this book came out in 1995 (1995!) I didn't know King Fahd from Elmer Fudd, either.

This round went further. For example, I found nothing on “Bill Hall” then and gave up, too common of a name. But this time I followed the Clinton trail and what do you know, here's Bill Hall Jr, who O'Brien describes as “no stranger to coke” and “bisexual”, which if nothing else would describe a person who particularly enjoyed sex and a good time in general. Hall was fabulously wealthy and had an open marriage that was “no secret”. His wife was driving an RV and ran into him on his motorcycle; the court determined she did it on purpose. How did she know, or even know about, this guy, and describe him accurately?

How did she know G Bush Jr was abusing cocaine and alcohol until he was 40?

And that “military reservation” in Monterrey? Its the “US Army Defense Language Institute”, exactly what is discussed, bent, and put through the eye of a needle throughout this book. And what is it exactly that the "US Army Defense Language Institute" does exactly?

Exactly.

Speaking of language, that joke about King “Elmer” Fahd is hilarious. You'd have to be familiar with the situation to get it, or even think of it. I don't think she made up that joke. She claims to have a photographic memory.

And who owned that bar in Nashville? Sure enough, Buddy Killen. And how would she know about what is quite possibly the only country & western harpist in the world? She's from Michigan!

In recent years it has become something of a buzz word in some circles that CIA strongholds are in Nashville and Branson. Here, in 1995, before the onslaught of the internet, she describes Nashville and Lampe, as it was being moved to Branson, as CIA strongholds. But, ah ... wait a minute. O'Brien was 30 when she and Phillips moved to Alaska in 1988, and the book only goes that far and no further.

Pick any person, place, or incident in the book at random.

In 1988?

How did she know that?

[Bluegreen]

And then there are these two items which provide slam-dunk confirmation of at least part of her story ...

http://media.mlive.com/chronicle/news_impact/photo/11026569-large.jpg
The late Earl O'Brien - Photo: Michigan Sports Hall of Fame

http://images.findagrave.com/photos250/photos/2014/336/139300351_1417619684.jpg
33rd Degree Mason Uncle Bob Tanis
https://www.mkdfuneralhome.com/obituaries/robert-tanis

[Merkaba360]

In Chapter 5, she talks about some being with Cox in 1979 and then visiting Governor Clinton with Cox. Then, in 1980 has her daughter and is ordered by Byrd to move back to Nashville as Cox is too insane and can't follow orders.

I looked it up and Clinton was governor of Arkansas beginning in 1983. hmmm. Fabricated story, error in memory, or? Unless im reading wrong or missing something.
Edit: I looked a bit deeper and what I looked up was unclear. Clinton was also governor from 79 to 81.


I was wondering how regaining her memory could have so many perfect details of conversations and events given all the stress and trauma? Not sure if that is believable or not since she mentioned photographic memory super powers from the project.


Even if this was disinfo, people who would create such messed up disinfo are very messed up and therefore, stories similar to this are at least happening. Trauma/abuse is some powerful stuff. Having power and networks on top of that is ......speechless.

[mountain_jim]

Took me until today to complete my rereading all of these chapters, as I could only take a little at a time and I wanted to fully read every word.

I had read this in either a paperback or download many years ago, so this was a timely refresher course for me - thanks much for the posting efforts, Bluegreen!

My intuitive sense has long been that this recounting is largely factually true - though I strongly wish that it was not.

It took me years and lots of other mind-control related research to come to that view - the Project Paperclip Nazi/Mengele evil imported into the US and NASA/CIA took deep root.

I wonder if some of her (Bush and others) reptilian memories were not just video/holographic tricks, but actually real, but who knows.

Peace and love to all of those, living or now dead, victimized in mind-control, human trafficking, and slavery. :flower:

Time to raise the vibration level of this reality such that this low-level evil can no longer sustain itself. :heart:

Awaken All! :sun:

[mountain_jim]

supporting data points ? (Other areas no doubt covered elsewhere in Avalon)

http://www.whale.to/b/griggs.html

(excerpts below)





Kay Griggs, Former Marine Colonel's Wife Talks Again About Military Assassin Squads, Drug Running, Illegal Weapon Deals And Sexual Perversion Deep Within The Highest Levels Of U.S. Military And Government

For 11 long years, Kay Griggs heard all the messy details from her military husband, usually while he was drinking before going into one of his drunken stupors. First going public in 1998 in an eight hour video interview with a truth-seeking Michigan pastor and FM radio broadcaster, she now is back after 9/11 to warn Americans to beware of the evil lurking within the highest levels of government, bound and determined to destroy America.

July 25, 2005
By Greg Szymanski


“My former husband George, who is a trained assassin, calls the people he is involved with the members of The Firm or The Brotherhood. If you are in the click, you are above the law and literally can get away with murder. For years, mostly when he was drinking, he told me how he and others in this elite military group would kill people,” said Griggs, as she mentioned name after high-powered name and story after-detailed story about sexual pervasion, murder, military hit squads, brainwashing and mind control, all activities sanctioned, participated in and condoned by a group of military and political elite.

“There were many other things and people he told me about which were startling, things I’ll tell you later. But George is like a robot, glazed eyes and all. While he drinks, he sort of comes alive. It is hard to explain unless you actually see him. He told me he was the No. 1 shooter for a long time for a group of powerful people at the top. If a guy is too honest, for example, they get rid of him.”

When asked how large an inside group it was and how she survived after going public with such damning information about so many high powered names, she added:

“I just keep myself and my story in the public eye. I am a descent, honest person who believes in telling the truth. I have a deep, abiding faith and trust in God. I also come from a strong-minded, strong-willed family and I am not afraid of generals and admirals.

“As far as the sheer numbers of people involved in this cap and gown, skull and bones secret society, it’s hard to say. But it is based on old friendships, college and prep school relationships, covering up secrets and sexual perversion.

“My husband told me about all the sexually perverted rituals, like anal and oral sex in coffins at drunken parties and running naked in the woods at Bohemian Grove. Then there was the last time I saw George was in 2001 and he was telling me to keep quiet, but I think he knows I will never stop telling the truth.”

During numerous drinking binges over many years, one of the main things that sticks out in Griggs’ mind was how easily her husband rationalized killing small number of innocent people and how he was able to somehow justify the killings if it accomplished a strategic goal for the elite group involved.

“Who are these people?” Griggs repeated after being asked the same direct question. “In general, they are first generation German sons, mostly who run things in the military through tight friendships made in Europe and at war colleges. Psyops is a controlling group and Paul Wolfowitz is a major player, as are the many Zionists on this side of the Atlantic.

“Truth is light. And these guys are anxious to collect the global power now in the few hands of their Freemasonic ( French Macons ) brotherhood's elite hands. It is a very, very small group and a rather homogenized group of global top down existentialist Zionists and socialists. In short Nazi’s who came to the U.S. when Hitler, their boy, turned on them in 1933.

Griggs said other recognizable names and major players she learned from her husband’s arrogant ramblings besides Wolfowitz and other nondescript military and civilian names, involved in what she called a Zionist global takeover, included Donald Rumsfeld, George H. Bush, Dick Cheney, Henry Kissinger and Andy Fine, to name a few.

“After what I learned from George about “Rummy,” as he called him and idolized him and the others, is that they all operate from this secret little, sick society and are all basically cowards and bullies. And I don’t believe I should ever keep quiet about who they are because the only way we are going to change there behavior is to shed light on what they are doing and show how ludicrous , sick and inept their behavior really is.




///////////////////



https://educate-yourself.org/mc/IlluminatiFormulaindex.shtml



The Illuminati Formula to Create an Undetectable Total Mind Control Slave

Dedication & Table of Contents

Glossary of Terms

By Fritz Springmeier & Cisco Wheeler
http://educate-yourself.org/mc/IlluminatiFormulaindex.shtml

Dedication
This book is dedicated to the two million Americans and counting who have been programmed with Monarch-type trauma-based mind control. This book is written to destroy trauma-based mind control before it destroys the human race. It’s time for this horrendous secret to end. It is also written as part of God’s end time work to propel people of faith to the high calling that is prophesied of the Body, but cannot be attained without men of faith understanding these things. Humanity’s great prophet said he came to heal those whose hearts had been broken-- literally split and crushed, and to free those who are captive. That work needs to go forward.

Blood, sweat and tears are associated with this book. The blood of the innocent victims of this mind-control cries out in a single unison, along with the pungent sweat of those who have tried to minister help to the shattered humanity left by the sadistic programmers, and the pools of tears shed as this book was written, "How long, O Lord, holy and true, do you not judge and avenge our blood on earth?"


////


https://evelorgen.com/wp/articles/mind-control/trauma-based-mind-control/



Fundamentals of Trauma Based Mind Control
August 27, 2000Written by evie
Part 1
By Eve Lorgen

This article is meant to be a simplistic overview of trauma based mind control as has been employed in the MK-Ultra Monarch Programming method. It is important to understand the foundation of how and why this type of mind control works, with respect to trauma, dissociation and subsequent programming.

This system of mind control has its origins in Illuminati based black magic practices. Multigenerational Satanic cults and high level Illuminati members have employed mind control for centuries. The basics of this type of mind control slavery was optimized and expanded after World War 2 following the gruesome experiments conducted in the Nazi concentration camps.

Dr. Joseph Mengele, (aka, Dr. Green) disappeared from Auschwitz in January of 1945, and was smuggled into the US by the Illuminati. When Monarch Programming started, the top men were Illuminati. Originally Mengele was the lead Programmer and became skilled in many things including Cabalistic Magic, abortions, torture and programming children.

When Mengele came over to he US, the existing mind control programming jumped from being an occult science, to one that had full access to the Medical, Psychiatric, Judicial, Scientific and Governmental sectors via the power of the National Security Act and the Intelligence Agencies. According to Fritz Springmeyer, author of “The Illuminati Formula Used to Create an Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave”, the Illuminati created the CIA. Intelligence agencies such as Britain’s MI-6 began investigating these mind control techniques early on even in World War 1. These were most likely the early multiple personality Manchurian candidate types of agents.

The Illuminati’s programming of multiple personality agents through trauma, ritual abuse, and hypno-programming was simplistic compared to the sophisticated techniques engineered by the Nazi Germans and even today. Secret mind control experimentation continued after WW2 in the US and also Canada under the CIA’s, Project Paperclip.

The primary MK-Ultra project adapted from these early systems was the Monarch Program. The reason why I think this system is important is because it is the original programming used to lay the groundwork for future more sophisticated mind control systems. The main factors for success in Monarch programming is the genetic tendency for dissociation, high intelligence and creativity.

It was discovered years ago, by the Illuminati that dissociative ability was passed on from generation to generation. The children of multigenerational abuse are good at dissociation. These genetic qualities have been fine tuned and specific bloodlines; both Illuminati and non-Illuminati are closely monitored, so that most Monarch slaves are even chosen before birth. Genealogical records of Illuminati bloodlines are highly guarded secrets, but in general these consist of 13 major families which include the Royal bloodlines of Europe.

The reason why dissociation is important to mind control is because the human mind is more susceptible to hypnotic command in these trance states. Dissociation is also a survival skill of great value in response to trauma and abuse. Frequent traumas, which split the mind of a child before the age of six, will produce multiple personality states. This is also known as dissociative identity disorder. This is one reason why the programming must be done in early childhood and in some cases, infancy and in utero. It is known that trauma based personality splits remain isolated in the mind better than hypnotic based mind splits.

Once the victim is systematically traumatized through various methods, which may include ritual abuse, programming is anchored in to each individual trauma. These dissociated traumas are linked to hypnotic programming commands and scripts. Then the traumatic memories linked in with the programming are walled off with amnesia from the host personality. The traumatized “split” is also known as the newly created alter personality. Alter personalities are created according to the Programmers needs, while the host personality is unaware of the traumatic memories and alters who hold the memories.

The alter personality can be called up to the front of the mind via codes or specific cues that the programmer knows, and be trained to do a variety of functions.

All programming is anchored upon some type of trauma. A variety of scripts may be used, along with specific training for individual alter personalities. This extends into the childhood and adulthood of the slave. The idea behind this is to create the perfect slave who can carry out a variety of functions while maintaining secrecy and obedience to the programmers. Such functions may include assassination, espionage, sexual servicing, couriers, “photographic “mind file data storage, and even psychic abilities.

There are other important elements employed in Monarch mind control such as the overlaying of demonic entities through ritual, or the power of ancestral generational spirits, which may make the person very psychic. Many of the Monarch victims are chosen because they have a powerful level of generational spirits within their families, who may have practiced black magic for generations.

Nowadays, sophisticated scientific technology is also used, such as biochip implants, electroshock, drugs and brain wave entrainment systems to lock in hypno programming more effectively. Real physical trauma is sometimes substituted for virtual reality headgear, which simulate horrific traumas to quickly split the mind, priming it for programming.

The important thing to remember is that the powerhouse behind this type of mind control system is demonic and technical. The key to freedom lies in deliverance and specific deprogramming therapy and support systems. These specifics, along with the importance of victim safety, will be addressed in the next article.

[Bill Ryan]

supporting data points ? (Other areas no doubt covered elsewhere in Avalon)

http://www.whale.to/b/griggs.html

(excerpts below)


Kay GriggsAlso see these two Avalon threads, featuring her VERY important interview:


The Kay Griggs testimony (https://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?40215-The-Kay-Griggs-testimony&highlight=griggs)
Who is Kay Griggs? (https://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?40215-The-Kay-Griggs-testimony&highlight=griggs)

[Matthew]

H5D1c9kn3cA

[norman]

Was Covid-19 a Mass Mind Control Operation? — Cathy O’Brien Interview (CIA MK Ultra Survivor)
Man in America - Published October 11, 2022


v1kwfvi/?pub=4

[DNA]

For me the question is:

How did she know that?

The story is fantastic in the dictionary sense of the word. To say that it stretches credulity may be an understatement. It is hard to imagine world leaders doing heroin, boozing it up and shooting guns at a hunting lodge. But, ah … wait a minute. Cheney did shoot a guy. At a hunting lodge. And there's more …

In 2011, I read this book. Then I read it again, the second time taking notes. Then I started looking up all the stuff in the notes, like military bases I never heard of, politicians and their itinerary, when they were where, even the Mandrell Sisters' tour dates. All kinds of weird stuff.

It all checked out.

Granted, it was fairly innocuous information. But how would she know about, even be aware of, such and such a military base. And, more importantly, why? And such and such a bar in Nashville. (How did she know about that?) And such and such a sultan, for goodness' sake. I must admit when this book came out in 1995 (1995!) I didn't know King Fahd from Elmer Fudd, either.

This round went further. For example, I found nothing on “Bill Hall” then and gave up, too common of a name. But this time I followed the Clinton trail and what do you know, here's Bill Hall Jr, who O'Brien describes as “no stranger to coke” and “bisexual”, which if nothing else would describe a person who particularly enjoyed sex and a good time in general. Hall was fabulously wealthy and had an open marriage that was “no secret”. His wife was driving an RV and ran into him on his motorcycle; the court determined she did it on purpose. How did she know, or even know about, this guy, and describe him accurately?

How did she know G Bush Jr was abusing cocaine and alcohol until he was 40?

And that “military reservation” in Monterrey? Its the “US Army Defense Language Institute”, exactly what is discussed, bent, and put through the eye of a needle throughout this book. And what is it exactly that the "US Army Defense Language Institute" does exactly?

Exactly.

Speaking of language, that joke about King “Elmer” Fahd is hilarious. You'd have to be familiar with the situation to get it, or even think of it. I don't think she made up that joke. She claims to have a photographic memory.

And who owned that bar in Nashville? Sure enough, Buddy Killen. And how would she know about what is quite possibly the only country & western harpist in the world? She's from Michigan!

In recent years it has become something of a buzz word in some circles that CIA strongholds are in Nashville and Branson. Here, in 1995, before the onslaught of the internet, she describes Nashville and Lampe, as it was being moved to Branson, as CIA strongholds. But, ah ... wait a minute. O'Brien was 30 when she and Phillips moved to Alaska in 1988, and the book only goes that far and no further.

Pick any person, place, or incident in the book at random.

In 1988?

How did she know that?

Thank you bro for sharing your research.
Cathy's work is a game changer.
For me it was her speaking engagements.
Listening to her and watching her body language.
I just knew she was telling the truth.
I could feel it.
Her conviction is unwavering.
It's the preparation from Cathy and Sue Arrigo that lend so much authenticity to the WikiLeaks exposure of the Hilary Clinton emails, especially those of Podesta.

[thepainterdoug]

I Included Kathy OBrien in my 100 portraits of whistleblowers . Kathy contacted me to thank me for the series.
Astonished by her gratitude, I told her, you are the one to be congratulated, thanked and admired.

Kathy O'brien oil on panel 9x12 d auld

[heretogrow]

Nice addition to your whistleblower series. I’ll bet she is grateful and humble all at the same time. You are so talented, painterdoug!

[thepainterdoug]

OMG !! retraction Im sorry, it wasn't Kathy OBrien WHO CONTACTED ME, IT WAS Kay Griggs !! Bill , if you hadn't said so I wouldn't of remembered

Yes Kathy was part of the series, but Kay Griggs who also is was the one who contacted me. This is some years ago and so my memory was a bit fuzzy

And thanks Heretogrow . I am also here to grow.

[Mark]

Thank you so much for posting the entire book, Bluegreen. I’ve finally gotten to read the entire thing. I actually finished it a month or two ago but have been quite busy iRL and have only returned to PA in the last few days. It was illuminating to read this now and consider how much the world has changed and how the techniques that she described have been so commonly included in movies and tv shows in the past decade. Practically our entire society is familiar with some aspect of trance formation as such, just because we have all been entrained to recognize it now.

I suppose it is all part of their deal where they have to let us know everything and by knowing we tacitly agree to it if we don’t overtly refuse the trance formation. From MK Ultra to Project Monarch to whatever is in place now the mindjerk continues. Although it seems as if the general knowing has shifted its terms quite a bit. Now it is seen as glamorous and popular to be a part of these programs even though they are quite clearly depicted as psychopathic.

But then, being a psychopath is cool now, isn’t it. Because psychopaths are superheroes. Our entire media machine says so, as does history and mythology.

[norman]

Bill Cooper called Cathy a bare faced liar. On this occasion I think he's wrong.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EJpu1z-gQs

[Delight]

Bill Cooper called Cathy a bare faced liar. On this occasion I think he's wrong.

https://youtu.be/5EJpu1z-gQs?feature=shared&t=812

I read Behold a Pale Horse in the 90's. It seems clear that there is a program in our minds that leads to fragmentation and compartmentalization. When I look at the "Health Freedom Movement" I see how people turn on one another with the same kind of tear down Bill Cooper displayed.

Gates create limited hangouts and these are maintained BY "insiders" (this is true, that is false, this one is controled opposition etc) who are powerful. One effect is tainting our ability to consider "what is being said" by painting WHO~E~V~E~R with negative agendas. The ones we TRUST can really sway us....even years after his death, these words can cause people to wonder and doubt.

IMO this is ~ALL~ the same mechanism which systemically controls the world. I was brought up by the minions too. I think Bill Cooper also mind controled and so full of holes??

The educated class is full of minions creating minions

v2u6vh3/?pub=4

[Tintin]

BIG thanks for those of you contributing here, and bumping too, which has served as a reminder that I do need to do a library update soon :thumbsup:

I uploaded this to the library roughly a week or so ago now, so, it's downloadable, as all the library files are, for any of you wishing to keep a copy. The subject matter is as those of us here are all too familiar with. Written and Directed by Adrienne Youngblood, and released in 2022 Cathy O'Brien commits her story in a documentary format.

Duration: 01:22:15

Description:



The full-length documentary about MK-Ultra Project Monarch survivor, Cathy O'Brien and her journey through Mind Control, Human Slavery and Healing the Nation. | What were the results of the experimentation and practice of social engineering and mind-control during the Cold War? When Project Paperclip was ushered into the United States, coinciding with the inception of the CIA and the National Security Act, Nazi research and trauma based mind-control experiments were brought to the US, initiating Project MK ULTRA.

These secret projects were funded through arms deals, drug operations, human trafficking and human slavery. The ultimate goal behind this hidden agenda was to implement mind-control deeply within our government, education, healthcare and media to create compliance in the new world regime. TRANCE weaves Cathy O’Brien’s experience as one of the last surviving victims of MK Ultra and Project Monarch, into the macrocosm of past world events, and the agenda currently unfolding. An eye opening view of our world today and how we got here.

TRANCE - Mind Control and Human Slavery: The Cathy O'Brien Story

Source: Avalon Library (https://avalonlibrary.net/TRANCE%20-%20Mind%20Control%20and%20Human%20Slavery%20-%20The%20Cathy%20O%27Brien%20Story%20%282022%29%20-%20Full%20Documentary%20%28Adrienne%20Youngblood%29.mp4)

https://avalonlibrary.net/TRANCE%20-%20Mind%20Control%20and%20Human%20Slavery%20-%20The%20Cathy%20O%27Brien%20Story%20%282022%29%20-%20Full%20Documentary%20%28Adrienne%20Youngblood%29.mp4

[Tintin]

supporting data points ? (Other areas no doubt covered elsewhere in Avalon)

http://www.whale.to/b/griggs.html

(excerpts below)


Kay GriggsAlso see these two Avalon threads, featuring her VERY important interview:


The Kay Griggs testimony (https://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?40215-The-Kay-Griggs-testimony&highlight=griggs)
Who is Kay Griggs? (https://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?40215-The-Kay-Griggs-testimony&highlight=griggs)


...and, in the library since 2019, her interviews with Rick Strawcutter (1998), Daryl Bradford (2005 and 2006), and Jeff Rense (also 2005)

Directory: Kay Griggs Interviews (https://avalonlibrary.net/?dir=Kay_Griggs_interviews)

Interview notes:https://avalonlibrary.net/Kay_Griggs_interviews/Kay_Griggs_interview_notes.pdf

https://avalonlibrary.net/Kay_Griggs_interviews/Kay_Griggs_interview_notes.pdf

[Tom Corbett]

:( This isn't a legal copy of the film.

[ExomatrixTV]

:( This isn't a legal copy of the film.
only if you make profit from it and/or create a "substantial" damage to their presumed loss of income ... but when it is dated the profit is already harvested and the percentage that is left is so low they do not care anymore 99,99% of the time. !