- NO MORE BEATING AROUND THE BUSH
It was a sunny, fall day in 1983 when U.S. Congressman Guy VanderJagt met with my CIA operative mind-control handler, Alex
Houston, my then 3 1/2 year old daughter, Kelly, and me on the steps
of the U.S. Senate in Washington, D.C. Kelly appeared familiar with
VanderJagt, although I had
never previously remembered seeing her in his company. Even so, I
think to realize he was, in fact, sexually abusing her just as he
had me when I was a child.
VanderJagt knelt on one knee in front of
her to talk with her, assuring her that "today was a special day"
because she would "see Uncle George (Bush) while mommy sees Uncle
Ronnie (Reagan)". He stood up and took her by the hand, saying in
Alice In Wonderland cryptic language, "Let’s goon an Adventure
together" and led her quietly and robotically away.
I met up with Kelly again that afternoon at the White House, both of
us literally "on our toes" and standing at attention in Reagan’s
office. In retrospect, I wonder at the measures of control inflicted
on my 3 1/2-year old child to cause her to perform so robotically and
behave "so well" as she silently stood with the plastic smile and
unblinking eyes, in the presence of President Reagan, Vice President
Bush, and (later Defense Secretary) Dick Cheney.
Reagan appeared to
gaze at Kelly, with her long blonde hair cascading down the back of
her blue pinafore dress, completing her Alice In Wonderland
Appearance. Reagan seemed to pose no direct threat to her sexually
as he said,
"She is adorable, a model child",
Reagan then gestured towards Bush and said, "This is my Vice
George Bush. People don’t usually know what the role of the Vice
because he’s always behind the scenes making sure everything that
wants done happens the way it’s supposed to."
He looked at me and
"I catch the public’s attention (he made a gesture
in the air that
was eye catching) while the Vice President carries out orders."
Bush’s close friend, Dick Cheney, said, "And gives them".
"Right," Reagan said. "An order from him is like an order from me."
Bush was wearing canvas boat shoes and a cardigan sweater as he
one knee in front of Kelly in order to talk to her on her level.
Bush used the children’s television program Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood
to scramble/confuse young victims’ (like Kelly’s) memory of contact
with him and his sexual abuse.
His physical resemblance to TV’s Fred
Rogers was deliberately exaggerated by his choice of clothes and
mannerisms, and is further compounded by his developed vocal
impersonation. Using his best Mr. Rogers voice he said,
Little One. I want to ask you something. Do you watch Mr. Rogers’
"Yes, Sir," Kelly responded.
Bush told Kelly,
"Well, I’m kind of like Mr. Rogers when he makes
his puppets move and talk—like your daddy (Houston, ventriloquist)
does with Elemer (his dummy). Only I’m like Mr. Rogers because I have
lots of puppets--only mine are people. I even have a King (Fahd)
just like Mr. Rogers.1 I
pull the strings (he pantomimed marionette
hand movements) and I talk through them. They say my words and we
create all kinds of exciting Adventures. Right now I’m building a
new Neighborhood (the
New World Order). The
stage is set, and I have hold of everyone’s strings. I need you to
together we can pull your mother’s strings. She’s in my
means you’re in my Neighborhood, too."
It seems obvious to me now that Bush was referring to those actively
engaged in implementing the New World Order through chaos and mass
control (aka media conditioning) as "The Neighborhood". Of course I
unable to consider disputing Bush’s statement, and Kelly was
certainly not of a
mind to see beyond Bush’s twist on her favorite television program.
blue eyes grew even wider as she responded, "I am?"
Bush stood up and took her hand, "C’mon. Let me show you my
Neighborhood," He led her out the door.
Kelly became violently physically ill after her induction into
George Bush’s "Neighborhood" and from every sexual encounter she
had with him thereafter. She ran 104-6 degree temperatures, vomited
and endured immobilizing headaches for an average of three days (as
is consistent with high voltage trauma). These were the only
tell-tale evidences aside from the scarring burns left on her skin.
Houston forbade me to call a doctor, and
Kelly forbade me to comfort
her, pitifully complaining that her head "hurt too bad to even
move". And she did not move for hours on end. Kelly often complained
of severe kidney pain, and her rectum usually bled for a day or two
after Bush sexually abused her. My own mind-control victimization
rendered me unable to help or protect her. Seeing my child in such
horrible condition drove my own wedge of insanity in deeper,
perpetuating my total inability to affect her needs until our rescue
by Mark Phillips in 1988.
Kelly’s bleeding rectum was but one of many physical indicators of
George Bush’s pedophile perversions, I have overheard him speak
blatantly of his sexual abuse of her on many occasions. He used this
and threats to her life to "pull my strings" and control me. The
psychological ramifications of being raped by a pedophile President
arc mind-shattering enough, but reportedly Bush further reinforced
his traumas to Kelly’s mind with sophisticated NASA electronic and
drug mind-control devices.
Bush also instilled the "Who yagonna
call?" and "I’ll be watching you" binds on Kelly, further
reinforcing her sense of helplessness. The systematic tortures and
traumas I endured as a child now seem trite in comparison to the
brutal physical and psychological devastation that George Bush
inflicted on my daughter.
As soon as the door closed behind Bush and Kelly, Dick Cheney
reached over to Reagan’s desk from his seat and flipped over the
hourglass. (Oz) "Her (Kelly’s) time is running out. You’d better pay
attention and follow orders as though her life depends on it, because
from now on (heh heh) it always does! If you make one
mistake—one—then I’ll get her, my pretty."
"George is like a director. He makes sure the stage is
set to implement the New World Order as I envision it. Then he makes
sure everyone has a script and knows their pan. He tells them how to
speak and when to speak it. How to dress and (patting my head) how
to wear their hair. He gets everything and everyone in place and
Reagan shouted through his hand as though it were
a megaphone and rambled on,
"All the world’s a stage. I’m the
Wizard. But he is directing the show so you better pay attention and
learn your part well from him."
"George and I will be working closely on a few
projects together, and when you see him, you’ll see me. When you’re
given orders from him, you’re given orders from me."
"She knows the chain of command, Dick," Reagan injected, referring
to his perception of who was in charge, and in what order.
Vice President, Habib, Cheney, Byrd, etc. may have been the chain of
command in Reagan’s mind, but Cheney’s definition was necessary to
my understanding. From my perspective, the chain of command was
clearly Bush, Cheney, Habib, Reagan, Aquino and lastly, on a par with
my handler, Houston, Byrd, all of which was subject to change at any
Cheney just rolled his eyes at Reagan’s comment and
never slowed down as he continued, "Right now a stage is being
and you will be directed by the Vice President on just how he wants
you to do your part in setting the stage for Mexico’s role in the
New World Order."
Reagan jumped in again,
"With the world in order, there will be
world peace. By strategically placing an American Patriot dedicated
to the cause of spreading democracy in all parts of the world, we can
influence the thinking of every nation’s leader and paint for them a
picture of freedom and American values that they’ll never forget.
They’ll spread it to the people and the whole planet will be of one
mind—one purpose-one cause. Freedom. You’ll be talking with some of
these friends and leaders from time to lime on my behalf."
Bush slipped back into the meeting, without Kelly. Cheney continued,
"Taking orders from me and your new director-the Vice President.
Lesson number one. You know what Miami Vice is. Undercover drug
agents taking control of the drug industry. A Vice President is just
that-an undercover drug agent taking control of the drug
industry-for the President."
Bush spoke up.
"Mexico is a problem. They’ve got lots of drugs, but
not the brains nor l he means to sell it outside their own country. So
how can we take control of their (growing) drug industry when we
can’t even get our hands on it? It’s your duty as an American
citizen to open the routes and initiate freedom from poverty
throughout their nation by offering them cash as a means of enticing
their drug industry right into our grasp by bringing it right up to
"Operation Greenbacks for Wetbacks," Cheney said, laughing.
Bush laughed with him.
Bush regained his composure to conclude, "Your assignment begins
in Miami with NCL (Norwegian Caribbean Lines) and ends when you
return from Mexico with word of success."
Cheney caught my eye with a hand gesture that directed my gaze from
Bush to the hourglass, which was running out fast. By then I was
deeply tranced and lost touch with my surroundings all together
while my trance was timelessly deepened for further programming, I
left the White House with a message for the Vice President of Mexico,
Carlos Salinas de Gortari, from the Vice President of the U.S., and
with one very sick child.
1 Mr Roger projects through puppets on his show, and one of his key
characters from the Land of Make-Believe is King Friday the 13th.
OPERATlON GREENBACKS FOR WETBACKS
My CIA mind-control handler, Alex Houston and I boarded the
Norwegian Caribbean Lines ship bound for Cozumel, Mexico, with a
large, black, soft side suitcase packed full of cash and a proposal
of "prosperity" from the U.S. This proposal, programmed in me by Vice
President Bush, was supposedly initial diplomatic groundwork for the
North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA).
It was my understanding then that the North American Free
Trade Agreement was considered a significant step in implementing the
New World Order through mind manipulation of the masses. According
to Byrd, propaganda disguising the true purpose of NAFTA included the
concept of "free trade" which the U.S. and Mexican governments had
long since shared.
"Free trade" of child and adult mind-controlled
slaves, cocaine, heroin and businesses has been not-so-secretly
proliferating for years. My own father joined the "run for the
border" via U.S. State Department and Mexican subsidized business
incentives and opened yet another branch of his U.S. Department of
Defense-given-business in Mexico. This was part of the "free trade"
agreement that I know personally has been operating smoothly from at
In an effort to maintain the illusion that the agreement
would not create a negative economic imbalance between Mexico and
the U.S., tourist areas of Mexico were deliberately built up,
enhanced and Americanized with U.S. dollars. These funds were
provided through CIA covert Black Budget operations of drug and
slave trading, as well as directly through the Senate Appropriations
Committee of which Senator Robert C. Byrd is chairman as of this
I certainly do not purport to understand international business, nor
have I attempted to "educate" myself through what 1 know to be
propaganda slanted and filtered periodicals. How money interfaces in
world markets has been well documented. For example, who supports
whom in which financial endeavors is apparently far too complex for
even BCCI attorneys and investigators to sort through.
perspective on Mexican, U.S., and Saudi Arabian buildup of Mexico’s
economy is limited to my own experiences. My under-standing is
further affected by deliberate misinformation from the
criminal perspectives of those who were in control of my mind’s
knowledge base and actions. From time to time, Senator Byrd used me
as a robotic sounding board. He told me what he wanted me to hear,
and this was structured more toward stroking his own enormous,
warped ego than it was to educate me in world finance.
Senator Byrd claimed "the money game is simply a game of control,"
and lives by his adopted Golden Rule of "He who holds the gold makes
the rules." He told me in so many words that,
"by appropriating funds
to all (viable) projects ushering in the free trade agreement, and
allocating lesser amounts to
U.S. social systems such as our ’criminal’ justice system, I control
our country and our place in world markets. All the world is a stage,
and I own the theater!... you can bank on it!"
Senator Byrd’s twisted reality echoed in my mind when America was
bought (stolen) and sold by Presidents Bush and Clinton in the
recent passage of NAFTA.
"I would never run for President—Oh, I’d
win if I did," Byrd
bragged. "But why should I run for an office that is beneath me? I
can make a President look good, or I can make him look bad by
strategically appropriating funds."
Byrd and others I knew boasted
that he was one of those (corrupt power brokers) responsible for Bill
Clinton’s being "chosen" and elected to the office of Presidency. And
the last minute bids and dealings with those Congressmen holding NAFTA’s deciding votes proved "strategic appropriations" indeed made
Clinton "look good" in his NAFTA "victory".
At the La Celiba Hotel in Cozumel, Houston maintained my food and
water deprivation for mind-control purposes, even during our dinner
meeting in the hotel’s restaurant later that evening. Although the
restaurant was "officially" closed due to the late hour, a
mariachi band, one waiter, four stationed armed guards, my Mexican
dignitary contact, his two assistants, and handler, Houston and I
During the meeting, arrangements were made to meet
with Mexico’s then Vice President Salinas the next afternoon at a
nearby military installation. I would also deliver a message as usual
from Senator Byrd at the nearby Consulate’s office pertaining to U.S.
financial support for creating propaganda to insure the illusion of
economic equality in Mexican tourist areas. These funds were simply
to further the ongoing shared goal of easing into
New World Order
domination through carefully contrived smoke and mirror tactics.
The next afternoon, Houston escorted me to the high security fenced
government installation for my meeting with Salinas. According to
Bush, Salinas was regarded by the Reagan-Bush Administration as
superior in power to Miguel de la Madrid who was officially
President of Mexico at that time. The upcoming Mexican "election,"
which was no more an election than Reagan’s second term, was to
place Salinas in the office of President to coincide with Bush’s
To insure that this "strategically placed
American Patriot" would be voted into position, Reagan informed me
U.S. would "guard the integrity" of "elections" by covertly
"overseeing" them, among other strategies. Salinas was to be
President at all costs.
Although President de la Madrid was considered by Bush to be the
steppingstone to the ultimate reign of Salinas/Bush’s (already
established) diplomatic relations, he was regarded with all due
respect in a manner conducive to "no margins for error". His full
cooperation was tantamount to establishing Bush’s and Salinas1 goals
via free flowing drug markets and Mexico’s cooperation in
subversively funding and supplying Reagan’s Nicaraguan Contras. De
la Madrid worked in close association with Salinas so that a smooth
transition of power would maintain U.S.-Mexican relations and
efforts already in place.
"A message to Salinas is a message to the President," Cheney had explained. Not only would the message be relayed to de
but for the most part Salinas was the one responsible for working
with George Bush since they would both come into power during the
most critical point in the promotion of NAFTA—passing it by the
American people and into law. President Reagan, Mexican President
la Madrid, Vice President Bush, and Mexican Vice President
were all "of one mind—one effort" toward economic
growth for our southern "neighbors in the New World Order" through
what I experienced was based on "free trade" of drugs, children, and
Vice President Bush told me that this (criminal)
activity was regarded as Mexico’s,
"only means of rapid economic
advancement and freedom from poverty since the people were slaves to
their own inability to advance in world markets."
When I arrived at the military installation with the aforementioned
suitcase of cash in hand, I was taken to Salinas’ "office" through a
series of electronic gates guarded by officers in white uniforms.
Salinas sat at his desk, which was small and functional (i.e.,
military issue), set on a highly polished wooden floor in a vast
room virtually void of decor and personal effects.
This created an
air of military practicality. I set the suitcase in front of Salinas
and began relaying the message I had been programmed to deliver,
"I have a message from the Vice President of the United State of
America to our neighbors in Mexico. America is willing to share its
wealth through a trade agreement with Mexico. We’ll trade our cash
for control over Mexico’s cocaine and heroin production. By
controlling your drug industry, we can open the border between our
countries to allow a free flow of cocaine and heroin into the U.S.,
bought and paid for in American dollars to build Mexico, Eventually
this could dissolve the border between our countries altogether as
Mexico’s economy grows to match ours.
If we begin today, this dream
could be realized by the turn of the century-sharing the same
continent, sharing the same wealth. Why? The drug industry already
dictates what the Mexican government can or cannot do. By giving the
U.S. control of your drug industry, Mexico regains control over her
government. Re-established power backed by U.S. dollars will bring
Mexico on an economic par with America. We can begin by spreading
word through the (drug) cartels that the U.S. is covertly willing to
open the borders to free drug trade by making agents available to
show you the passage and routes through which the drugs are to be
Only U.S. agents can bring Mexican heroin and (South
American) cocaine across the border, and likewise they will bring the
cash in. Explain to those select few who control the drug empires
that the cruise line (NCL) agreement is going into mass expansion,
tearing down the border between our countries enough to allow for as
many drugs to come in as Mexico can deal out. When do we begin?
Immediately. The cash is at hand. (I gestured toward the suitcase
which Salinas unzipped to find full of cash.)
Deliver whatever amount
of brown heroin you have at hand as a means of confirmation to the
agreement. Keep the change as a token of the change and good fortune
that has befallen Mexico from its neighboring nation."
As I finished Bush’s message, Salinas
immediately took a note pad from the desk and scrawled a quick note.
He passed it to a guard who was stationed at the door. He stood up,
smiled, and leaned over his desk as he extended his hand in a warm
handshake. I was escorted out. Houston found me on the front steps
of the installation and together we were escorted through the barbed
wire fences and back onto the streets of Cancun.
I waited in a small clearing nearby for an indeterminate length of
time, playing with a large iguana. Finally, a taxi cab driver pulled
up and honked his horn three times, signaling me to pick up a
fist-sized ball of Mexican brown heroin. The heroin was crudely
wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine, and measured approximately
the size of a baseball. As quickly as the cab driver left, Houston,
who was standing some distance away with two uniformed men, signaled
me to join him. We were then driven to the airport where we boarded
U.S. Air Force aircraft to Washington, D.C.
Immediately upon arrival at Andrews Air Force Base just outside of
Washington, D.C, I was taken to Senator Byrd who then escorted me to
Dick Cheney’s Pentagon office for a meeting with Vice President Bush.
I was ill and vomiting from the high voltage administered in Mexico
to compartmentalize my
memory. I was allowed to use Byrd’s magnetic pass key card to unlock
the maze of doors that led to the Ladies’ Room.
I was still wearing
my inappropriate-for-D.C. cruise clothes and carrying the heroin in
my tote bag when I met with Bush to confirm Mexico’s agreement to
his proposal. Bush took the heroin for himself, obviously pleased
with the quality of the product. Cheney laughed and told Bush he
needed to "confiscate the Contra-band".
Bush replied, "Over my dead body" as he laughed at Cheney’s Contra
joke. "If you don’t share some of it, that could be the case," Cheney
said. "Pitch it here."
Bush struck a pitch pose, wound up, made a fake out pitch, and joked
in baseball banter, "It’s a ’high fly’ ball. You’re going to have to
steal." He tossed the heroin in the air, caught it, and strode for
the door, Cheney got out of his chair, pointed to the door, and
ordered me "Out".
Houston and I were flown in to Montego Bay, Jamaica and transported
to Ocho Rios to board our next NCL cruise ship.
- 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 Lime I had been ordered to one of U.S, Senator
Robert C. Byrd’s offices located in the nearby FBI Hoover Building.
There, Byrd reinforced his holds on me by claiming control of the
Justice Department and "proving" once again that I had "no where to
run and no where to hide". My horror reaction was compounded
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
The exhibit fascinated me as a programmed MPD since multiples
often experience the unnerving phenomena of routinely not recognizing
themselves in a mirror due to switching personalities. A multiple’s
face often changes slightly with each switch, which "validates" the
religious communities’ perceptions of so-called "demonic possession"
in occultism. Logic quickly dispels this belief when it is realized
that everyone’s expression changes according to emotion, by skin
color and tones, blood pressure, and by tightening or relaxing
specific micro muscles.
An MPD’s face changes are more exaggerated
when these natural conditions are combined with the results of
sophisticated programming/"Charm School" teaches subconscious
control over these natural phenomena as a ready-made disguise on
government slaves such as myself, as welt as to enhance sex slaves’
"beauty" to their maximum potential. I was incapable of thinking or
logically understanding my fascination with the display, as I
stood totally enthralled, waiting for my escorts as ordered.
As the escorts approached, I was relieved to see Kelly with them.
Though she was visibly tranced and traumatized, the fact that she
was alive was all I was capable of grasping. When she saw the "Face
Changing" exhibit, she excitedly exclaimed, "Uncle George just read
me a book about this!" Before I could hear anymore, I was led away,
leaving Kelly with our handler, Houston.
I was then quickly taken to Bush’s Residence Office, which
here-to-fore was unfamiliar to me. Although it had slate blue, plush
carpets and fine furnishings like the White House office, lattice
work and smaller rooms provided a different air. I sat in a hard-back
wooden chair as ordered, while Bush carefully positioned himself in
front of me on a little wooden footstool. This allowed me clear
visibility of the large book that he held in his lap.
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
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"
The illustrations themselves were
elaborate, consisting of mirrors and hypnotic depictions. He
seemingly made the book come alive in my mind as he read page after
poetic page of hypnotic, metaphorical language, all the while
creating powerful illusions. His impersonations of the characters
further enhanced the desired affect of fantasy becoming reality. This
extraordinary effort to scramble reality would have
worked-perfectly-had it not been for another victim and myself
discussing it only a few days later.
The purpose of Bush’s book was
dearly explained within the first few pages, which included the
I am the Vice President when circumstance demands,
And I am your Commander, you’ll follow my commands.
The first command’s important - It is one you will heed,
When I send you a book, you are what you read.
Throughout my tenure as a Presidential Model mind-controlled slave,
I was provided specific books according to Bush’s program. These
books, delivered through pre-established channels such as Ken Riley,
Alex Houston, and even Ronald Reagan, came complete with specific
commands on how they were to be interpreted and used. Some books
were used to instruct me on operations; somewhere an attempt to
scramble my memory with fantasy; others were used to load my mind
with pertinent data such as bank account passbook numbers, and so
I was provided a paperback book entitled Afghanistan, from which
I absorbed history, current political events, and the strength of the
Afghany Freedom Fighters. I have since learned that the book I read
was never publicly released in the text it was provided me. According
to instruction, the book was delivered back to Bush as quickly as I
finished memorizing it, I wonder in retrospect if any part of it
contained fact beyond how I was supposed to perceive it.
I read stories of espionage, including Robert Ludlum’s Bourne
Identity, and William Diehl’s Chameleon. Mostly I was provided steamy
sex novels for further training as well as scrambles. Kelly was
conditioned to fairy tales, Steven Spielberg’s ET, NASA NSA
operative George Lucas’ Star Wars, and the nightmarish Never Ending
Story. Steinbeck’s classic Of Mice and Men caused Kelly constantly
to quote the dependant character of Lenny for years saying, "Tell me
what to do, George".
She still does this each and every time I am
allowed to visit with her in the mental institution. The attending
therapist over-seeing the visit has yet to pick up on this
programming cue, and I am forbidden by Juvenile Court order not to
discuss Kelly’s past or therapy.
Bush’s most effective example of "You Are What You Read" in his
book About Faces occurred during his reading of the page depicting
lizard-like "aliens" from a "far-off, deep space place", Claiming to
me to be an alien himself, Bush apparently activated a hologram of
the lizard-like "alien" which provided the illusion of Bush
transforming like a chameleon before my eyes. In
retrospect, I understand that Bush had been painstakingly careful in
positioning our seats in order that the hologram’s effectiveness be
U.S. Army Lt. Col. Aquino’s occultism provided trauma sufficient to
maintain my Project Monarch Mind-Controlled existence despite his
inability to affect my core spirituality. Therefore, I was not
routinely subjected to the other favorite "trauma of choice"-alien
themes-lite many slaves (including Kelly) I knew had been.
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.
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,
All along the way, my daughter and I were either prostituted,
used in commercial pornography, or filmed in Michael Dante’s "Chief"
bestiality pornography as ordered by Uncle Ronnie Reagan.
Occasionally our travels would take us to Michigan, where Houston
made certain we stayed with my family. Trips to my father’s house
were devastating but informative. My mother had developed deep,
psychological scars above and beyond her own MPD condition and became
an insomniac. My father by this time was routinely traveling to
London, Germany, and Mexico, and taking the family to Florida’s
Disney World and Washington, D.C.
My older brother, Hill, still
worked for and with my father, traveled with him annually to
"hunt" in Cheney’s Greybull, Wyoming lodge, and maintained his wife
and three children under trauma-base mind control according to my
father’s instructions. My brother, Mike, ran a video store to front
some of my father’s and Uncle Bob Tanis’ lucrative porn video
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
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 red 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.
"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
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
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"
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
Moore transported cocaine from the Caribbean for the CIA, at least
during the Reagan Administration, under the guise of so-called
"missions,"1 i.e., Christian ministries. It most likely was not the
intent of the Christians dedicated to their Caribbean ministries to
be used by the CIA and Moore to inadvertently mule drugs into our
country. Even CIA agents operating under "need to know" partial
information were denied the full scope of what they were actually
participating in. Many seemingly willing participants were
manipulated, provided "justification," and deliberately misled to
believe they were serving their country, rather than destroying it
from the inside out.
"Pastor" Moore combined his knowledge of Kelly’s and my programming
keys, codes, and triggers with his use of metaphorical language to
maintain and/or direct our mode of operation. Moore’s "following"
consisted primarily of government mind-controlled slaves and
handlers, including the Mandrells.
Jack Greene and his slave, the
Oak Ridge Boys, and others. He instructed us on how to vote, which
political issues lo support, and to follow other "religious"
political leaders such as his and Manuel Noriega’s friend,
evangelist Jimmy Swaggart. "Religious counseling" from Moore equaled
to maintaining mind- control programming through "God’s Orders", And
"God’s Orders" often came by telephone,
Houston constantly prostituted Kelly to anyone "in the loop" who
was willing to pay. When she wasn’t being prostituted, she was being
filmed pornographically. By 1984, Michael Dante routinely filmed
Kelly in pornography, since kiddie porn was as lucrative as
bestiality. He filmed Kelly and me in Las Vegas, Nevada and various
other locations throughout the Caribbean, California, Florida,
Tennessee, and in my home state of Michigan.
This created professional conflict with long lime kiddie
pornographers formerly associated with Houston. Houston’s close
friend in Waycross, Georgia, pedophile Jimmy Walker, managed the
Okefenokee Swamp Park and had participated in black budget funding
operations for years on both the cocaine and pornography levels. His
counterpart, Dick Flood, refused to participate to any more
pornography after Dante came on the scene.
Even the Huntsville,
Alabama NASA/DIA/CIA-appointed "law enforcement" officers could
rarely succeed in their bidding for Kelly’s video taped
performances unless directly ordered by Senator Byrd. Dante
considered himself her future owner as well as mine, and maintained
control of our porn "business" ventures through serious U.S.
Government and international Mafia methodisms/ connections.
Jimmy Walker, the same photographer who had taken pornographic
"wedding night" pictures for Larry Flynt, recently had other
photographs of me
published in Hustler. When Dante found out, he was furious. Larry Flynt and
Dante both worked for the CIA, had Vatican and
deliberately appealed to Reagan’s perversions using project Monarch
What Flynt could not "legally" publish, Dante ran
the underground. Flynt and Dante lived on opposite coasts, which,
similarities, still was not far enough apart to sooth their
his hands in dramatic Italian gestures. Dante furiously spouted a
obscenities over Flynt’s publishing photos of what he deemed "his
Accusing Flynt of going to extremes to gain favor/protection from
government, Dante shouted, "He’s a bigger whore than the girls he
Michael Dante’s pornographic filming abilities served several
Aside from producing porn according to Reagan’s own (well known)
perversions and instructions, Dante was present during many key
government "gatherings". Oftentimes when I and others were
various government (New World Order) leaders, Dante had hidden
filming perverse sexual acts apparently for future blackmail
videos were scandalous in proportion and were usually ordered by
Dante turned the videos over to Reagan, and covertly kept copies to
himself. Dante converted a small room of his Beverly Hills mansion
security vault, where he kept his personal copies of the
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.
perception is that Bohemian Grove serves those ushering in
World Order through mind control, and consists primarily of the
highest Mafia and U.S. Government officials. I do not use the term
"highest" loosely, as copious quantities of drugs were consumed
there. Project Monarch Mind Control slaves were routinely abused
there to fulfill the primary purpose of the club: purveying
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
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
Underground where Lee Atwater was picking and singing.
As I waited
through the smoke-filled room to Ford’s table, Atwater interrupted
his song to cryptically acknowledge my unwelcome presence by singing
choruses of "Over the Rainbow" and Byrd’s song for me "Country Roads"
while emphasizing the lines of "Almost heaven, West Virginia".
My purpose at the Grove was sexual in nature, and therefore my
perceptions were limited to a sex slave’s viewpoint. As an effective
means of control to ensure undetected proliferation of their
perverse indulgences, slaves such as myself were subjected to
ritualistic trauma. I knew each breath I took could be my last, as
the threat of death lurked in every shadow.
Slaves of advancing age
or with failing programming were sacrificially murdered "at random"
in the wooded grounds of Bohemian Grave, and I fell it was "simply a
matter of time until it would be me". Rituals were held at a giant,
concrete owl monument on the banks of, ironically enough, the Russian
(rushin’) River. These occultish sex rituals stemmed from the
scientific belief that mind-controlled slaves required severe trauma
to ensure compartmentalization of the memory, and not from any
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
Being "prepared" equated to being
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
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,
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
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
There was a triangular glass display centered in a main through way
where I was locked in with various trained animals, including snakes.
Members walking by watched elicit sex acts of bestiality, women with
women, mothers with daughters, kids with kids, or any other unlimited
perverse visual display.
I was once brutally assaulted by Dick Cheney in the Leather Room,
which was designed tike a dark, black leather-lined train berth. As
I crawled through the leather flaps covering the narrow entrance, I heard Cheney play on the word "berth/birth" as the soft blackness
engulfed me. With the small opening covered, the blinding darkness
enhanced the sense of touch and provided an option of anonymity.
Cheney jokingly claimed that I "blew his cover" when I
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
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
The solution being debated was not pollution/population
mass genocide of "selected undesirables."
1 Moore often operated under the cloak of World Vision.
2 The wooden
sign was carved to read: U.N.DERGROUND
Back to The Bohemian Grove
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, 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 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
Vatican "Orders" via Byrd’s
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 2000.1
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
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 tome 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.2 Byrd was saying,
"I was just talking about you
with my friend, Secretary of Education3
"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
Byrd corrected me, "Commemorate your holy communion."
need a translator, Bobby," Bennett laughed, "I’m hearing
her loud and
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
"Once he landed in Earth’s plane, it was
plain to see he was a leader in interdimensional travel, We
(Jesuits/aliens) followed his lead since he was the first to slip
into Earth’s dimension. In Christ’s transformation from porpoise 4 to
purpose, he lost his will to Earth’s demands. He lost his porpoise,
so to speak."
Totally "trance-fixed," I listened as
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
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
Bennett manipulated my perceptions until, at last, he informed me,
"You and I will be working closely together on a global education
project." Sweeping his hand around the crowded room, he continued,
"This atmosphere is not conductive to the kind of work we need to be
doing. Something else just came up that demands immediate attention.
Let’s complete tonight’s business with pleasure, beat it out of this
dimension, suspend your suspended animation, and get with the
In one of many White House bedrooms available for such purposes,
Bennett led me into bed.
I told you we were going to beat it out of
this dimension, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. A little
Byrd told me you like a whip. Since I am not the Senate kind, I’ll
just represent the majority by giving you what you need most.
Bennett apparently found perverse pleasure in whipping me. With my
wrists bruised and my body slinging with pain, Bennett lit up a
cigarette and cryptically asked,
"Was that your first cum-union with
an alien?" He threw me my clothes, and ordered, "Make yourself
presentable. Make sure your wrists are covered. I’m not waiting
around for you, I’ll see you in THE morning."
Bennett left. After awhile I was escorted back to
Byrd, with whom I
spent a brutal, short night. On the way to his room, Byrd told me,
"You’ve got work to do come morning with Mr. Bennett. Working for
him is like working for me. We are working in conjunction with the
state Governors in an effort to implement the global 2000 education
formula for the future. I am excited at the
prospect of meddling in the future through what I accomplish today.
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
Early the next morning, deep underground in the NASA’s Goddard Space
Flight Center mind-control lab near D.C., Bill Bennett began
preparing me for the program. NASA uses various "CIA designer drugs"
to chemically alter the brain and create exactly the mind set
required at the time, Huntsville, Alabama’s NASA drug of choice,
"Train-quility," created a feeling of absolute, peaceful compliance
and a sensation of walking on air.
The drug administered this time
was sufficiently similar to Tranquility to create total compliance.
The bearing I had endured the night before had rendered me helpless,
anyway, and I could barely crawl up onto the cold, metal lab table
as the drug took effect.
In the darkness surrounding me, I could hear Bill Bennett talking,
"This is my brother, Bob. He and I work as one unit. We are alien to
this dimension - two beings from another plane."
The high-tech light display swirling around me convinced me I
was transforming dimensions with them, A laser of light hit the black
wall in front of me, which seemed to explode into a panoramic view
of a White House cocktail party-as though I had transformed
dimensions and stood amongst them.
Not recognizing anyone, I
"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
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
The brief message Bennett programmed me with pertaining to
Education2000 was to be directed to state Governors at the upcoming
convention while delivering a packet of information:
"The children. We must consider the children. Think for a moment
beyond tomorrow. Our children are the future. Their future lies in
education. We can control the future today by regulating education.
Our thoughts and plans for the future-put in their text. A text they
can understand. Children’s textbooks. The highest levels of
government, the most brilliant minds on the face of this
Earth would like input into the future by way of the children. You,
as Governor, are in a position to provide that link. Global
Education 2000 is ready for implementation. Look into it. Look into
it and see the future."
1 Education 2000 was designed to increase our children’s learning
capacity while destroying their ability to critically think for
themselves. You can learn more about
Education 2000, also referred
to as America 2000 and Global 2000, through reading:
the New World Order by B.K. Eakman, published by Halcyon House ISBN
# 0-89420-278-2-3441000, and
A Critique of America 2000: An
Educational Strategy by Kathy Simonds, published by Citizens for
Excellence in Education,
2 Anytime I was taken to "see Byrd," I was deliberately reminded of
his name, (Robert) C. Byrd and "its alien mirror reversal," Sea-Byrd
as a triple bind lock in.
3 Bill Bennett, who was still acting as Chairman of the National
Endowment of the Humanities in 1984, was designated (tapped) to
became U.S. Secretary of Education through his allegiances to George
Bush and the New World Order. In 1985, Reagan (Bush) officially
appointed Bennett as Secretary of Education. Apparently Byrd
considered my "Need to Know" Bennett as Secretary of Education
pertinent to my role in the Global Education project.
4 Jesuit/NASA based whale and dolphin programming suggests that water
is a mirror to other dimensions and is the means by which aliens
have mixed with our population.
5 If this were so, why did he have to
audibly tell me?