4shared PICS/VIDS Archives (*SUSPENDED*)
MUST SEE BLOG POSTS!
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Lt. Col. Michael Aquino (Satanist), Larry E. King, Pres. Reagan, MK’d Johnny Gosch, MK’d Paul Bonacci
From PsyOp To Mindwar: Psychology of Victory — Paul E. Vallely, Michael Aquino; 7th PsyOps Grp, U.S. Army Reserve, Presidio of San Francisco 1980 (PDF)
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ITK7: Due to voluminous documentation of Monarch Survivors (Victims) only select listed passages here, w/ some full text PDF versions — this is not meant in any way to discredit, disavow, or minimize other MK’d Survivor accounts/testimony. Also included is Fritz Springmeier’s brilliant treatise on (13) ruling Dynasties…
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CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE: Larry E. King, Lt. Col Michael Aquino Ritualistic Sexual Abuse
(scheduled to air on Discovery Channel 5/3/1994; BANNED due to Congressional Pressure)
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Illuminati Formula Used To Create An Undetectable Total Illuminati Mind Controlled Slave Vol. 2 – Cisco Wheeler (survivor) & Fritz Springmeier (now jailed on false charges) exhaustive treatise on horrors of NSA-CIA protected/Nazi inspired MK-Ultra Monarch Prog
fr: Intro “Illuminati Formula to Create a Totally Undetectable Totally Mind Controlled Slave” – C. Wheeler/F. Springmeier
[An integral part of multi-layered architectural structure providing cover for MK-Ultra Mind Control Prog. Functions as massive “dis-info” org founded/funded/operated by those atop top Behavioral Sciences Industry as response to testimony of MK-Ultra Mind Controlled Survivors (Victims) reaching “critical mass” — classic “PsyOps” tradecraft — ITK7]
False Memory “Spin-drom” Foundation HQ — 3401 Market St., Suite 130, Philadelphia, PA 19104. Some of the original founders were doctors of Univ. Pennsylvania — inside story about these early FMS doctors of Univ. Pennsylvania is they practiced Satanic Rituals during their work days. What is unusual about this — is that generally satanic rituals are performed at night, but these doctors did their coven work during daylight; now you can see why these men started the FMS! They started it to cover their own sins, because many of them were abusers themselves. In other words many of the EMS people are abusers of trauma-based mind-controlled slaves, or the victims of abuse who are in denial about their own abuse from trauma-based mind-control. Martin T. Orn (credited with founding FMS and known CIA asset) classic “fox in hen house”
Two members of the EMS advisory board, Ralph Underwager, Ph.D. and theologian along w/ Hollida Wakefield, M.A.let the cat out of the bag when they publicly supported pedophilia in an interview with a Dutch magazine Paidika, The Journal of Pedophilia (Winter,1993).
Although False Memory Syndrome Foundation gets upset at any mention of a conspiracy by the perpetrators of mind-control, because conspiracies supposedly don’t and can’t happen, they want us to believe that all therapists are conspiring together to implant false memories of abuse into their clients, which could not be further from the truth…”
Deeper Insights into the Illuminati Formula – Cisco Wheeler & Fritz Springmeier
================================C. Wheeler, F. Springmeier
Thanks For The Memories – Brice Taylor (Henry Kissinger & Bob Hope’s personal sex-slave/personal computer) paints picture connecting dots between players in Hollywood, Music Industry, Political Realm, Sports, Banking-Corp, Psychiatric Institutions, Military, Religious leaders & Occult World Sarah L. Palin is a Brice Taylor UPGRADE…under complete control of Herr Heinz (Henry) Kissinger & handlers Todd, Fred Malek others…
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fr: Thanks For The Memories – Brice Taylor
“George HW Bush, Sr. was /is a pedophile and Kelly [Brice’s underage daughter] was created to be a “bush baby”…It was difficult to carry on small talk with Mrs Bush while my child was being raped.”
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“Michael Jackson was just a little boy of four or five when I accompanied Bob Hope to a place where they were filming up-and- coming talent for television. Bob told me he supported and sponsored the Jackson’s, getting them a professional foot in the door. Their father brought the boys in and I remembered seeing them taken into a side room where bright lights were on.
They all had to drop their pants and bend over before their performance a big man raped each one of them in a lineup. Then they were taken to a different room and dressed in little suits and sent onto the stage to perform. Due to the mind control I was under, I’m not sure exactly where we were, but feel that it was the early days of the Ed Sullivan Show. I watched as Bob, dressed in a grey pinstripe suit and bow tie, with white shoes, shook hands with Ed; and then the Jackson boys went on. They were made into a sensation and famous, on purpose, so that they could be used in the future to influence large audiences.
Bob and his connections knew that all they needed was some talent, make- up, costumes, lights, glitter and lots of publicity. He said publicity was the most important ingredient.
I was just a teenager and Bob said that he wanted me to be present so I could learn the ropes to being a “starlet.” He wanted me to see how it was done and feel comfortable around the stage. I think he just said that as a cover to other people to hide the real reason I was with him – for his and others sexual pleasure.
Bob [Hope] explained to me how important clothes are to one with a public image to uphold. I had on a short, small, tight-fitting, low-cut, yellow, sheath dress. I did as I was told and wore it along with the gold high heels I was provided.
Bob was often the connection for new entertainment. The Council used his connections for their own interest and got ‘key’ entertainers in place for future use. Many were robots like me. I saw many of them get hurt. I never saw Bob get hurt though.
The Jacksons were hurt; I was witness to their abuse. That first time when they performed, Bob got them onto the show and then we left in the limo and watched from the television inside. He told the driver to drive around until the show was over. Then Bob told me, “See how easy it is to be a star?” And he laughed and pushed my head into his lap for oral sex.
I think most would agree that the inherent love that is part of Michael Jackson’s soul essence shines through for the world to see. In spite of the programming themes in some of the songs he sings, as I was recovering I often held onto the words he sang, the lyrics reminding me, “You are not alone,” when I felt so very alone.
To Michael, I extend a hand and say you also are not alone. Now there is a way out of this insanity…”
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An example of GMT “synchronization” — Global Mgt. Team MK-Ultra Ringmaster Bob Hope’s “singin’ n dancin’ machine” — MK’d master showman age (5) turned into a commodity, mesmerizing masses, used as GMT tool of distraction, courier of coded Intel, horribly disfigured via yrs of trauma/torture by family and strangers. GMT had MJ “throwing up the sixes” early MK Prog’mg Malfunction (repressed memories returning) = Termination.
GMT pulled out all stops for this show, MK’s in full force — MK’d Britney Spears resplendent in “emerald green” stops by to reinforce MJ’s Occult-Disney Peter Pan Prog’mg. Other MK’s in attendance: Beyonce, Mariah, Macaulay Culkin, Liz Taylor, Liza Manelli, Usher, Whitney Houston to name a few…
MJ @ MSG NY 9/10/2001 until 1am: all eyes on MJ midtown, while downtown at WTC Complex, bldg. no. 7 (CIA NY Hq); Bush son Marvin had security contract for entire complex finishing touches being put on mornings Mass Human Sacrifice & Fear-Based Trauma Op ushering in police state and “soft dictatorship”…
(4:04) Baphomet (devil horn) flashing; horns pointed skyward, swept down length of his body; then (4:09 – 4:12) gloved hand of course (5:28) MacCaulay, Liz & Liza…
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fr: Thanks For The Memories, Chap. 26 pg. 238-239
Dodger Diamonds (MK’d Beta Sex Slaves)
Tommy Lasorda [Dodger Head Coach] gave a new meaning to the Dodger lineup. Instead of the Dodgers lining up, it was women and children lining up for the baseball team to choose from, for sex. A Dodger incentive to do better – to win more! If they won, they got to choose – if they lost, no women. “Dodger diamonds” had a double meaning…. it also referred to the “Dodger Diamonds,” the mind-controlled women the Dodgers could select from for sex. Lasorda often spoke in cryptic language, intended to manipulate and inspire the Dodgers. Here’s an example. One evening as he spoke to the team, he said, “If you play good on the Dodger diamond (the playing field), you will get in return a ‘Dodger Diamond”‘ (a sex slave). Presidential model sex slaves often wore diamonds as program identifiers. My daughter and I wore diamonds, as well. Back in the men’s locker room when the women and children in the “Dodger lineup” were in their places, Lasorda would point to a woman or child who had been ‘chosen’ by a player and say, “he’ll take that one.” He never referred to anyone by name – always just pointed and said, “That one.” It was part of the “game” they played after a win. The Dodgers weren’t allowed to just go up and pick one of us. They had to tell Lasorda who they wanted and then he would make the announcement. We then stepped forward to the player we were chosen by and went with him to another room, corner or wherever he pleased. Sometimes the locker room was filled with Dodgers having sex with women and children at the 7th inning stretch, to “inspire and invigorate the team,” as Lasorda would say. But most of the time it was done after a winning game… I got stuck with that little short guy – the one that walked like a duck to first base…Ron Cey. He would often pick me from the lineup…he would lean against the wall with one arm and talk casually to me for a minute before he had sex with me…Cyndy Garvey (Steve Garvey’s now ex-wife) was often part of the “Dodger lineup” of women and children to be chosen by the Dodgers for sex after a winning game. My daughter Kelly was also occasionally used. They usually put Krisha and Whitney (the Garvey’s young daughters) into the lineup. The players who performed the best during the game got to choose first. One night when they put Krisha and Whitney in the lineup, it was Whitney’s first night. She was now “old enough” to participate, in spite of the fact that she was only four or five years old. Cyndy started screaming, “No, not Whitty!” (That was the nickname she called Whitney.) Two men stepped forward and grabbed Cyndy by the arms and whisked her away. They took her into the next room and we could all hear her screaming. It was awful. “If you step out of line, you always pay the price, maybe with your life.” Lasorda said. Then they took Whitney out of the line and into a side room, and we could all hear her screaming and crying…”
Lasorda said to those of us remaining, “We won’t have that problem anymore, will we.” He was very brutal…When they brought Whitney back out, she could barely walk. She didn’t make it into the lineup that night; she was too injured…Tommy Lasorda and others humiliated Cyndy. They brought me into the locker room and put me up against the shower wall. They put Cyndy across the room but close by, and they brought Steve in. He had sex with me standing up against the wall. Cyndy was forced to watch and then someone, usually Lasorda, would tell her she wasn’t good enough or enough of a woman for Steve. Steve was laughing sadistically. Cyndy looked like she wasn’t really “there.” Soon after, Tommy Lasorda took her out and sat her behind the dug out where she usually sat during the games – being the dutiful and supportive Dodger wife. On nights like these, Tommy gave the press orders not to talk to or interview Cyndy. He told them if they did he would have them thrown out of the ballpark and he would have their job. If they asked why, he would say, “She’s not quite herself tonight.” In line with the information about Project Monarch, some rich people actually own certain Dodger players and their children. Often it’s cryptically called “sponsoring,” but it’s really ownership (much like owning a racehorse) because the owner makes all the decisions about the players life without the knowledge or consent of the player. When the player does well, the owner collects large sums of money from behind the scenes. Steve Garvey, his (now ex) wife Cyndy, and their two children were “sponsored” (owned) by some wealthy person and from what I saw, the family was manipulated much the same way mine was, through mind control, for the financial benefit of others.One night I watched, as I waited for the “lineup,” while Lasorda was coaching the team. He chalked a diagram of the field onto a large chalkboard. The Dodgers were all sitting on a bench in front of him. Lasorda spoke in funny rhymes [limericks] to some of the players, rhymes that didn’t make much sense to me. It seemed that the players were like robots that were robotically manipulated by the words Lasorda spoke to them. I overheard him say, “Steve (Garvey), you will hit a home run. Ron (Cey), you will bunt since you’re a runt. Only runts bunt.” And he went on and on like that, seeming to program the plays into the players…because I was programmed to not see the players or to recognize them if I should see them. I was pre-programmed to not look at the Dodgers with the phrase, “there will be blood everywhere, if you continue to stare,” or “you won’t recognize them anywhere, you won’t even know they are there.” “Who are those men down there in suits?” They looked at me like I was retarded and laughed in embarrassment for my question, and then explained, “Those are the umpires.” I didn’t know. I was just obeying program…”
Tranceformation of America – Cathy O’Brien & Mark Phillips (de-programmer)
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fr: Tranceformation of America – Cathy O’Brien: “…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 walked 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”[Sen. Robert Byrd, Chrmn Senate Appropriation Committee, Cathy’s OWNER] and Byrd’s song for me “Country Roads” while emphasizing the lines of “Almost heaven, West Virginia”.
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Fr: Tranceformation of America – Cathy O’Brien “A Most Dangerous Game”
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. 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. 1 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.[substituting “and your little dog too” — Wiz of Oz “fear-based coding” trigger]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 crypto amnesia 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.”
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Chap.10, “Commander” Dick Cheney & Reagan’s “Hands On Mind-Control Demonstrations”
“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[Lt.] Colonel [Michael](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 unted 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 well 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 [Robert]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 fucked 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.”
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fr: Chap.12 , Operation Carrier Pigeon
“…I first began delivering messages between my “owner” Senator Byrd and Puerto Rican drug lord and CIA operative, Jose Busto. [Alex] 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. Habit’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 Habit’s orchestration of Operation Carrier Pigeon, this CIA covert operation was littered with Wonderland mirror themes from beginning to end. 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 Class’.” 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 Habit’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 lightning bolts down the high heels and sides. In place of dinner that night, Houston gave me a “Wonderland Wafer” (MDHMAXTC CIA designer drug “Ecstasy”).The wafer, like all those supplied by Habib, bore his trademark that read “Eat me”. 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 transport 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.” 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 carpet in front of 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 toSea. 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. T 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 “treading 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 light of the fact that I was to be the bearer of bad news to Noriega in the morning…”
BLOODLINES OF THE ILLUMINATI – Fritz Springmeier
fr: Intro “Bloodlines of Illuminati” – Fritz Springmeier
“I am not a conspiracy theorist. I deal with real facts, not theory. Some of the people I write about, I have met. Some of the people I expose are alive and very dangerous. The darkness has never liked the light. Yet, many of the secrets of the Illuminati are locked up tightly simply because secrecy is a way of life. It is such a way of life that they resent the Carroll Quigley’s and the James H. Billing tons who want to tell real historical facts rather than doctored up stories and myths…I’m student of history since I could read, and I am deeply committed to the facts of history rather than the cover stories the public is fed to manipulate them — I do not fear the Illuminati taking over this country and doing away with the Constitution, because they took over this country long ago, and the Constitution has not technically been in effect due to Presidential emergency decrees since WW2… Don’t think for a moment you are going to vote the Illuminati out of office. They control the major and minor political parties. They control the process of government, they control the process of information flow, they control the process of creating money and finally they control Christendom. (However, God controls the hearts of His people.) In short the Illuminati are generational satanic bloodlines which have gained the most power. A generational Satanist described the Illuminati as “Satan’s elite.” This book is not written to cause fear. It is not written to provide names for a witch hunt…It is not Long ago in the dark unwritten pages of human history, powerful kings discovered how they could control other men by torture, magical practices, wars, politics, religion and interest taking. These elite families designed strategies and tactics to perpetuate their occult practices. Layers upon layers of secrecy have hidden these families from the profane masses, but many an author has touched upon their existence…In mockery and imitation of God’s 12 tribes, Satan blessed 12 bloodlines [w/the goal of duplicating the attributes of God, namely “Omnipotence”, “Omniscience”, “Omnipresence” Ed.]
The Astor Bloodline The Bundy Bloodline The Collins Bloodline The DuPont BloodlineThe Freeman Bloodline The Kennedy Bloodline The Li Bloodline The Onassis BloodlineThe Reynolds Bloodline The Rockefeller Bloodline The Rothschild Bloodline The Russell Bloodline The Van Duyn Bloodline