Excerpt One
My name is Cathleen (Cathy)
Ann
O’Brien, born 12/4/57 in Muskegon, Michigan. I have prepared
this book for your review and edification concerning a little
known tool that "our" United States Government is covertly,
illegally, and un-constitutionally using to implement the
New
World Order (One World Government). This well documented tool is
a sophisticated and advanced form of behavior modification
(brainwashing) most commonly known as MIND CONTROL. My first
hand knowledge of this TOP SECRET U.S. Government Psychological
Warfare technique is drawn from my personal experience as a
White House "Presidential Model" mind-control slave.
Much of the information enclosed herein has been corroborated
and validated through brave and courageous "clean" members of
the law enforcement, scientific, and Intelligence communities
familiar with this case. These individuals’ efforts helped me to
understand and corroborate what happened after a lifetime of
systematic physical and psychological torture orchestrated to
modify my behavior through totally controlling my mind. Some of
these courageous individuals are employed by the very system
that controlled me and live in fear of losing their jobs, their
families, or their lives.
They have gone as far as they dare
towards publicly exposing this tool of the engineers of the New
World Order--to no avail. This book is a grassroots effort to
solicit and enlist the public and private support of Human
Rights advocates, the recognized, respected doers in America to
expose this invisible personal and social menace. This can be
done by well organized, cooperative citizens with a passion for
justice, who have expressed interest in restoring our
Constitution and taking back America. This copy you hold is for
your edification and action.
While these pages have been condensed for your quick perusal,
there are literally thousands of files of documentation that
support much of what I am reporting. Thanks to those dedicated
individuals who found a means of manipulating the system more
cleverly than the perpetrators, the documents referred to were
declassified for release right at the source!
It is my patriotic respect for the principles of truth, justice,
and ultimately that freedom on which America was founded that
compels me to expose the world domination motivations of those
in control of our government, commonly referred to as
the Shadow
Government. By taking back America NOW, we can maintain the
integrity of our country’s history and future by detouring its
destined course of being recognized world wide for the
mind-control atrocities unleashed on humanity that literally
begin where Adolph Hitler left off. Hitler’s version of world
domination that he termed in 1939 the "New World Order"
is
currently being implemented through advanced technologies in,
among others, genetic mind-control engineering by those in
control of America.
Senator Daniel Inouye, (D. HI) commented about the operations of
this secret government before a Senate Subcommittee and
described it well as,
"...a shadowy government with its own Air
Force, its own Navy, its own fund raising mechanism, and the
ability to pursue its own ideas of ’national interest’, free
from all checks and balances and free from the law itself."
The expertise of my primary advocate and skilled deprogrammer,
Mark Phillips, developed through his U.S. Defense Department
knowledge of "Top Secret" mind-control research and researchers,
was responsible for the restoration of my mind to normal
functioning. As a result, I have recovered the memories related
in this text, and having survived the ordeal, have reached this
point of enormous frustration. In 1988, through a series of
brilliantly orchestrated events, Mark Phillips rescued me and my
8-year-old daughter, Kelly, from out mind-controlled existence
and took us to the safety of Alaska for rehabilitation. It was
there that we began the tedious process of untangling my
amnesiac mind to consciously recall what I was supposed to
forget.
Many U.S. and foreign government secrets and personal
reputations were staked on the belief that I could not be
deprogrammed and rehabilitated to accurately reveal the criminal
covert activities and perversions in which Kelly and I were
forced to participate, particularly during the Reagan/Bush
Administrations. Now that I have gained control of my own mind,
I view it as my duty as a mother and American patriot to
exercise my gained free will to expose the mind-control
atrocities that my daughter and I endured at the hands of those
in control of our government. This personal view of inside
Pandora’s Box includes a keen perception of how mind control is
being used to apparently implement the New World Order, and a
personal knowledge of WHO some of the so-called "masterminds"
are behind this world and mind dominance effort.
Most Americans old enough to remember recall exactly where they
were and what they were doing when President John F. Kennedy was
shot. His assassination traumatized the nation and provides an
example of how the human mind photographically records events
surrounding trauma. The traumas I routinely endured during my
mind-controlled victimization provided me the latitude to
recover my memory in the photographic detail in which it was
recorded. The direct quotes I have included in the following
pages depicting carefully selected events, are verbatim. I
apologize for any obscenities quoted, but this was necessary to
maintain the integrity of the statements and accurately reflect
the character of the speaker(s).
While I am free to speak my mind, Kelly, now 15, is not so
fortunate. Kelly has yet to receive rehabilitation for her
shattered personality and programmed young mind. The high tech
sophistication of the
Project Monarch trauma-based mind-control
procedures she endured, literally since birth, reportedly
requires highly specialized, qualified care to aid her in
eventually gaining control of her mind and life. Due to the
political power of our abusers, all efforts to obtain her
inalienable right to rehabilitation and seek justice have been
blocked under the guise of so-called "National Security".
As a result, Kelly remains untreated
in the custody of the State of Tennessee--a victim of the
system--a system controlled and manipulated by our abusive
government "leaders"--a system where State Forms make no
allowances to report military TOP SECRET abuses--a system which
exists due to federal funding directed by Our perverse, corrupt
abusers in
Washington, D.C.
She remains a political prisoner in
the custody of the State of Tennessee to this moment, waiting
and hurting!
Violations of laws and rights, Psychological Warfare
intimidation tactics, threats to our lives, and various other
forms of CIA Damage Containment practices thus far have remained
unhindered and unchecked due to the National Security Act of
1947 AND the 1986 Reagan Amendment to same which allows those in
control of our government to censor and/or cover-up anything
they choose. Now, with our country free from outside threats as
a result of the fall of the Soviet Union, our "free press" is
reportedly no longer encumbered by censorship. This fact alone
should free us to pursue justice, but it has not. Please ask
why.
Hence the purpose of releasing this book at this time. After
five long years of being unjustly and painfully separated from
my daughter, while our abusers have had full access to her
through a corrupt and manipulated system, it is my fervent hope
and intent to solicit help from you in the form of advice,
expertise, and public outcry concerning this very solvable
problem.
I could not prevent the traumatic mind-control abuses Kelly
endured due to my own victimization, yet she is depending on me
now to expose the truth and enlist the help that the Juvenile
Court has restrained her from seeking. I dedicate this book to
Kelly, and all others like her, and to every American unaware of
the mind-control atrocities prevailing in this country. What
Americans don’t know is destroying them from the inside out.
Knowledge is our only defense against mind control. It is time
to WAKE UP and arm ourselves with the truth, restore the
constitutional values of freedom and justice for all, to
retroactively enforce the 13th Amendment, and take back America!
MY INTRODUCTION TO
HUMANITY
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.(1) My earliest recovered
memory was that I could not breathe with my father’s penis
jammed into my little throat. 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. Then the terror, which was my conditioned
response, triggered access to that part of my brain that
previously endured the trauma. I was remembering the abuse and
how to deal with it. This part of my brain developed into a
personality of its own--which belonged to my father--which he
rented out and later sold to the U.S. Government as will be
explained and detailed in the following pages.
Other parts of my conditioned mind dealt with other abusers,
abuses and circumstances. My father was (as revealed by my own
investigations) apparently a multigenerational incest child from
a large, poor, and horribly dysfunctional family. His mother
earned a living as a prostitute for local lumbermen after his
father died when he was two years old. My father’s brothers and
sister were all sexually and (occult) ritually abused just as he
was. They grew up to be drug addicts, prostitutes, street
derelicts, and pedophiles who also sexually abused me and my
brothers and sisters. I developed more personality splits to
deal with the traumas of these torturous relationships.
My mother’s dysfunctional family also appears to be
multigenerational, but of a slightly higher socio-economic
class. Her father owned the building occupied by a Masonic Blue
Lodge he led, and managed a local beer distribution business
with her mother after completing his military career. Together
they sexually abused my mother and her three brothers, who in
turn sexually abused me.
My family often went camping on the vast wilderness acreage
surrounding my grandfather’s Masonic Lodge in Newaygo, Michigan.
Large bluffs referred to as "The High Banks" overlooked the
White River flowing through his property, which is where we
pitched our tents. My mother’s brothers, Uncle Ted and Uncle
Arthur "Bomber" Tanis, often accompanied us and sexually abused
my brother and me.
It was deer hunting season in or
around November, 1961, when my father took the family camping on
The High Banks to hunt with my uncles. That night, as my brother
and I were being sexually passed around the campfire to satisfy
pedophile perversions, a lost hunter stumbled into our camp. My
father shot him when he attempted to run; the rifle’s blasts
piercing my brain and further fragmenting my mind. I sat dazed
in a dissociative trance while my mother methodically picked up
the campsite and my father and uncles disposed of the body.
As my father drove us away from the crime scene, we were stopped
by several hunters who had the road blocked in a desperate
attempt to locate their missing companion. They described the
man I saw my father kill, and said they heard gunshots. Reality
intruded on my dissociative trance, and I screamed and cried
hysterically until I no longer knew why I was crying.
My Uncle Ted(2) soon became a street derelict. Uncle Bomber died
a few years later from alcoholism in his early forties. And my
father became more financially and politically connected.
My mother’s oldest brother, Uncle Bob, was a pilot in Air Force
Intelligence and often boasted that he worked for the Vatican.
Uncle Bob was also a commercial pornographer, producing kiddie
porn for the local Michigan Mafia, which looped back to Mafia
porn king and U.S. Representative Jerry Ford.(3) I split off
more personalities just to deal with my Uncle Bob, his
"friends," and the perverse business he shared with my father.
Excerpt Two
My father’s sixth grade education had earned him a job as a worm
digger for local sport fishermen. By the time I was six years
old, however, his pornographic exploitation of my older brother,
Bill, and me had provided enough income to move us into a bigger
house nestled in the Michigan sand dunes. My father was right at
home there. The tourists and drug dealers who littered the
eastern shore of Lake Michigan further supplemented his income
by paying for perverse sex with us children. My father also
became involved in illicit drug sales.
Soon after we moved, my father was reportedly caught sending
kiddie porn through the U.S. mail. It was a bestiality film of
me with my Uncle Sam O’Brien’s Boxer dog, Buster. My Uncle Bob,
also implicated in manufacturing the porn, out of apparent
desperation informed my father of a U.S. Government Defense
Intelligence Agency TOP SECRET Project to which he was privy.
This was Project Monarch. Project Monarch was a mind-control
operation which was "recruiting" multigenerational incest abused
children with Multiple Personality Disorder for its genetic
mind-control studies. I was a prime "candidate," a "chosen one".
My father seized the opportunity as it would provide him
immunity from prosecution. In the midst of the pandemonium that
ensued, Jerry Ford arrived at our house with the evidence in
hand for a meeting with my father.
"Is Earl home?" he called to my
mother, who nervously stood behind the screen door,
hesitating to let him in.
"Not yet," my mother replied, her voice shaking.(4) "He
should have been home from work by now--I know he’s
expecting you."
"That’s OK". Ford turned his attention to me. I was standing
outside on the front porch, and he crouched down to my
level. Patting the large, brown envelope containing the
confiscated porn tucked under his arm he said, ’You like
doggies, huh?"
"Buster is a nice doggy," I replied. "He’s funny." Not
understanding why the dog had been whisked away when the
porn was confiscated, I complained, "Buster’s gone."
"Buster’s gone?" Ford asked.
"Yeah. My Uncle Sam took him away," I told him. Ford laughed
loudly at the irony of my statement. In my limited view, I
thought he found it humorous that Buster was gone. My father
pulled into the driveway, honking the horn of his new, tan
convertible. Ford stood up. With his fly eye level to me, I
noticed his penis was erect and reached for it as
conditioned.
"Not now, honey, "he said. "I have business to tend..." Ford
went inside with my parents to officially seal my fate.
Not long after that my father was
flown to Boston for a two-week course at Harvard on how to raise
me for this off-shoot of MK-Ultra Project Monarch.
When he returned from Boston, my father was smiling and pleased
with his new knowledge of what he termed "reverse psychology".
This equates to "satanic reversals," and involves such
play-on-words as puns and phrases that stuck in my mind like,
"You earn your keep, and I’ll keep what you earn." He presented
me with a commemorative charm bracelet of dogs, and my mother
with the news that they "would be having more children" to raise
in the project. (I now have two sisters and four brothers
ranging from age 16 to 37 who are still under mind control.) My
mother complied with my father’s suggestions, mastering the art
of language manipulation.
For example, when I could not snap
my own pajama top to the bottoms in a childish effort to keep my
father out of them, I asked my mother, "please snap me". She
did. She would snap her forefingers against my skin in a
stinging manner. The pain I felt was psychological as this
proved to me once again that she had no intention of protecting
me from my father’s sexual abuse. Also in keeping with his
government-provided instructions, my father began working me
like the legendary Cinderella. I shoveled fireplace ashes,
hauled and stacked firewood, raked leaves, shoveled snow,
chopped ice, and swept-"because," my father said, "your little
hands fit so nicely around the rake, mop, shovel, and broom
handles."
By this time, 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.
Immediately after my father’s return from Boston, I was
routinely prostituted to then Michigan State Senator Guy VanderJagt. VanderJagt later became a U.S. Congressman and
eventually chairman of the Republican National Congressional
Committee that put
George Bush in the office of President. I was
prostituted to VanderJagt after numerous local parades which he
always participated in, at the Mackinac Island Political
Retreat, and in my home state of Michigan, among other places.
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 0f 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 of
Assisi in Muskegon, Michigan.
My Catechism teacher was a Nun, or ’Sister". Although I could
not consciously think to protect myself from abuse, I had
decided that becoming a Nun would provide me with the kind of
life I sought. I could not rely upon my family, the police, or
politicians to protect me. The church appeared to be my answer,
and I listened diligently in class and prayed religiously. I
learned all about the political structure of the church, and was
prepared for my first Confession.
The Catholic beliefs I was taught include the idea that man is
not fit to talk to God (the Father) directly, but must have a
priest intercede instead. This is the purpose of going to
Confession. I was instructed to tell my sins to the priest (also
referred to as Father), who would relay the message to God. He
would then supposedly tell me how many "Hail Marys" and "Our
Father" prayers to say as my penance, or punishment. My
Catechism teacher gave the class several examples of "sins,"
which included "sex outside of marriage". When the Priest,
Father James Thaylen, slid open the little screened partition in
the closet sized confessional, I began as I had been instructed,
"Forgive me Father, for I have
sinned...." I then proceeded to tell him that I had sex with
my father and brother, to which he responded that I should
"say three Hail Marys and one Our Father and I would be
forgiven?!"
I knew then that I had to either
believe that this Confession thing was a hoax, or that
God
condoned sexual child abuse. That night, my father had a talk
with me. Apparently he was the "Father" that the priest had
interceded to. My father instructed me that "from now on," I was
to simply say "I disobeyed my parents" when I went to
Confession
and nothing more!
The next time I went to Confession, I did exactly as I
was told. The veiled screen came off the Confessional partition
between me and the priest, and a penis was stuck through the
window. ’God
said that your penance is to treat me as you would your father.
And remember, ’whatsoever you do to the least of your brothers,
that you do unto me’." After performing oral sex on Father Thaylen, I emerged from the Confessional where all the other
kids were waiting very impatiently for their turn.
My teacher scolded me for taking so
long and told me to add a few extra "Our Fathers" to my penance.
When I told her I already did my penance, she told me again the
"order of things" to the Confessional ritual--which did not fit
anything I had just experienced! Without ever consciously
knowing why, I abandoned the idea of becoming a Nun as that part
of me, too, split off from what was left of my "normal" base
personality.
I continued to maintain an illusion of normalcy for school,(5)
excelling in my studies due to my photographic memory and in
spite of my chronic "daydreaming". 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
0f 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.(6)
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 perform 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.
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
VanderJagt’s office where he was waiting along 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-controlled
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.
(1) Multiple Personality
Disorder (MPD), now known among mental health professionals
as Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is the mind’s sane
defense to an insane situation. It is way of dealing with
trauma that is literally too horrible to comprehend.
Incestuous rape violates primitive instinct and surpasses
pain tolerance. By compartmentalizing the memory of such
horrendous abuse, the rest of the mind can function
"normally" as though nothing had happened.
This compartmentalization is
created by the brain actually shutting down neuron pathways
to a specific part of the brain. These neuron pathways are
triggered open again when the abuse recurs. The same part of
the brain that is already conditioned to the trauma deals
with it again and again as needed.
(2) Uncle Ted had also cried hysterically the night
of the murder. Several years later, he almost killed himself
when he drove his car into the White River near the place of
the murder.
(3) Gerald Ford, aka Leslie Lynch King, Jr., served
on the appropriations subcommittee for the CIA and was
appointed to the Warren Commission to investigate the
assassination of President John F. Kennedy while I knew him
only as a porn boss!
(4) My mother often voiced complaints that she "could
not see faces," which personal experience has taught me
indicated that she was suffering from on going physical and
psychological traumas, and therefore was not in control of
her senses.
(5) Had my teachers been educated in the obvious
signs of child abuse, my "illusion of normalcy" would have
been interpreted as a cry for help. Dissociative trance
daydreaming, tones of helplessness and sexuality in
drawings, and the electric prod marks on my face should have
been recognized.
(6) These same themes were routinely used in creating
Project Monarch slaves. This fact emerged through years of
networking with mental health professionals.
pps78-86
ABOUT FACES
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 time 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 well 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. 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 clearly 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; some were 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.
I was provided a paperback book entitled Afghanistan, from which
I absorbed history, current political events, and the strength
of the Afghany[Afghani] 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 Speilberg’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 dependent 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 overseeing 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.
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--like 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. 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.
Excerpt Three
Chapter 18
In
The Meantime
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 Elemer’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, Bill, 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 his 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. "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 As, 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).
Moore transported cocaine from the Caribbean for the CIA, at
least during the Reagan Administration, under the guise of
so-called "missions,"’ 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 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 to support,
and to follow other "religious" political leaders such as his
and Manuel Noriega’s friend, evangelist Jimmy Swaggart.
"Religious counseling" from Moore equated to maintaining
mind-control programming through "God’s Orders". And "God’s
Orders" often came by telephone.
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 time 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
in
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. When Dante found out, he
was furious. 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. 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 soothe 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 quantibles 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.(2)
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" 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 Grove,
and I felt 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
occultist 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. 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
throughway 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 like 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."
pps. 164-171
Excerpt Four
Trance
Formation of America
On May 7, 1966 a 9 year old child named Cathy O’Brien was
subjected to an occult ritual she called "The Rite to Remain
Silent" in alleged preparation for her future interdimensional
expeditions.
"I work for the Vatican, and
now, so do you," [Michigan State Senator, Guy] VanderJagt
told me. "You have just entered into a covenant with the
holy Catholic church. You must never break that covenant."
Still capable of questioning at that
time, I asked, "What is a covenant?" VanderJagt answered,
"A covenant is a promise to keep
secrets, the secret that the church knew all along. The Pope
has all the secrets locked away at the Vatican. Your Uncle
Bob and I have been to the Vatican. It is time you entered
into the holy covenant and learned the secrets of the church
that were written long before Christ even came into being.
The Dominican monks kept the covenant that Noah carried into
the new world. They kept the secret with them. It was
written on parchment and kept in a secret place in the
Vatican. They took a Vow of Silence to never reveal its
location, or its content. You must enter into the covenant.
You must carry the secret to your grave. Keep it secret from
your mom, dad, everybody."
VanderJagt proceeded to fill my
suggestible young mind with biblical interpretation that laid
the groundwork for future "inter/inner dimensional" programming
themes utilized by Project Monarch programmers to control the
compartmentalization of memory synonymous with MPD/DID.
"Christ saw them all,"
VanderJagt was telling me. "They are dimensions, places you
can see on your way to death. That’s why they’re called
die-mentions. You must remember that Christ died and came
back to tell us everything he saw while he was on his way to
heaven. He was gone three days, but it was much longer than
that where he was because time isn’t the same in other
dimensions. Purgatory is one other dimension. Hell is one.
And there are lots of others in between. Oz is another
dimension.
The sky is not the limit to all
the worlds out there waiting to be explored. You can travel
in and out of all these dimensions, learning the secrets of
the universe. You have been chosen to explore these other
worlds for the church. Listen in the stillness and you will
hear his voice guiding you on your missions. The rosy cross
is like Dorothy’s ruby slippers. Never take your rosy cross
off, Cathy, when traveling other dimensions and you will
always be able to return home."
Father Don [apparently from
Muskegon’s St. Francis of Assisi Church] joined VanderJagt in a
ritual which bathed me in the blood of a slaughtered lamb, and
subsequently, through this hideous blood trauma, locked their
stated perceptions and a basis for mind-control programming deep
in my mind. This basis for programming was anchored in the Vow
of Silence which the Jesuit monks take "not only to keep
secrets, but so they can still their mind and hear their inner
guidance." Certain that the "Rite to Remain Silent" which they
had performed would ensure that I keep their secrets, Father Don
and Guy VanderJagt subjected me to their pedophile perversions.
The two joked that I had become "a good Cathy-lick".
Cox was ordered out of Johnston’s office, and he turned his full
attention to me. When alone with the Senator [U.S. Senator
Robert C. Byrd, D. West Virginia], Johnston [U.S. Senator
J.
Bennett Johnston, D. Louisiana previously of Shreveport General
Dynamics R & D, now apparently affiliated with USPECC, on the
Reston, VA Columbia Gas board of Directors and CEO of the
Washington-based Johnston and Associates] 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 info 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,
kiddo. 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."
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 take us to
our destination -- Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma.
E.T. Phone Rome
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. 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.
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.
When Bill and Bob Bennett together sexually assaulted my [very
young] 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. 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
inter-dimensional travel. We (Jesuits/aliens) followed his
lead since he was the first to slip into Earth’s dimension.
In Christ’s transformation from porpoise to purpose, he lost
his will to Earth’s demands. He lost his porpoise, so to
speak."
Totally "trance-fixed," I listened
as Bennett rattled 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...."
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 conducive 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
stinging 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 Report
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 mindset
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. The drug
administered this time was sufficiently similar to Tranquility
to create total compliance. The beating 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 Education 2000 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."
