- NEW WORLD ORDER OF THE
Still feeling drugged from the programming session instilled in me
by Bill Bennett at the nearby Goddard Space Flight Center, I attended
a White House cocktail party later that night as instructed.
Dressed "to Order," I wore a slinky, black dress that gathered at
one hip decorated in rubies, with a red rose barrette in my hair.
"The Chief called for her," my Secret Service escort told the butler
as he left me at the door. The lights were dim and the air was
formal as the butler led me through the unusually large crowd of
people. He released my elbow, aiming me in the direction of then
President Ronald Reagan.
As I walked through the crowd toward Reagan, I saw familiar
faces associated with the ííOrder of the Rose.1" Across the room,
Bill and Bob Bennett were laughing with Dick Cheney. Then-Governor of
Pennsylvania Dick Thornburgh was engaged in conversation with Senator
Arlen Spector. Within the farthest reaches of my expanded peripheral
vision, I saw George Bush talking with his U.N. confidant Madeleine
Albright 2. Knowing I could see him as though I had eyes in the back
of my head, Bush subtly signaled me to join them.
"You know Madeleine Albright," Bush began. Expertly using
terminology from previously instilled Catholic Jesuit beliefs, he
continued, "Sheís the reverend mother of all sisters (slaves). Sheís
so close to God that an order from her is an order from Him."
Albright snickered, apparently impressed with Bushís "witty"
manipulation of program verbiage. "She rose in the U.N. through me
to implement the New World peace process."
Albright said to me, "I hear youíre a world (whirled?) piece".
"Who told you that?" Bush demanded.
"Larry Flynt, for her stint in Jamaica 3," she quickly explained.
Bush threw up his hand in apparent disgust at the idea of sex
relating to someone with two digits in their age.
"Spare me," he
"Thatís my job," Albright said matter-of-factly with a smile of
pride. She shooed me away while condescendingly saying, Iíll see you
tomorrow at the OAS (Organization of American States) office. Now,
you run along and go play."
Noting that her nonspecific orders left
me unable to determine which way to turn, literally, she aimed me
back in the direction of Reagan.
Reagan was dressed in a dark, navy blue suit and red silk tie. His
red rosebud 4 boutonniere instantly triggered me into a
of the Rose" sex slave mode.
"Well, hello, Kitten," Reagan said,
blowing his cognac breath in my face as he bent over to kiss my hand.
"Uncle Ronnie..." I said, sexually responding as conditioned.
Reagan turned to the man beside him and said, "Brian, this is one
more of those benefits of the New World Order I was telling you
about. Kitten, this is Brian Mulroney, Prime Minister of Canada."
The connotations of my childhood experience with the former Prime
Minister of Canada, Pierre Trudeau, suggested that Mulroney was
Jesuitóas did the mode I was operating in. He, too, was wearing a red
rose boutonniŤre signifying his involvement and commitment to the
Order of the Rose.
"Itís a pleasure to meet you, Sir," I said as I extended my hand.
"The pleasure is mine," Mulroney said as he kissed my hand, "Please,
call me Brian."
"Yes, Sir, Brian," I responded, my brain still whirling with the
NASA designer drugs.
Chuckling but insistent, Mulroney reiterated, "I am not a Sir".
Reagan jumped in, "He is a Prime Minister, which means he is
more important than your average Minister, and certainly more
important than any Sir. Brian is my friend."
"Oh, Brian," I said, finally understanding,
"OíBrien is her fatherís name," Reagan told Mulroney, "She is of
descent and hails from Michigan." Brian turned to me, "Iíve been in
your neck of the woods here recently-in one of my favorite
get-aways-on Mackinac Island,"
"Mackinac Island was her launch point into the project," Reagan
explained in terms used by those familiar with mind-control
Mulroney apparently was aware of my mind-controlled state
and leered at me as though I were merchandise, Reagan noticed his
interest and proceeded to function in the capacity of a pimp.
highly recommend you take her along with the rest. She is an
excellent game piece for you to use in any position. And thereís
security. Her head is in the ethers and come tomorrow, she wouldnít
knew you from the man in the moon. Iíll give you the keys later."
Expertly using Order of the Rose signals and triggers,
"Just give me the key to her heart, and sheís mine."
"You are wise in the ways of the world," Reagan commented.
"I have to be on top of things. Itís a New World Order," Mulroney
said matter-of-factly. As a guard led me away, I heard Reagan tell
Mulroney, "You will be on top of the world soon".
I was searched by uniformed Canadian bodyguards and pointed in
the direction of one of the White Houseís many bedroom suites. When I
opened the door, I saw three blonde sex slaves undressing and
preparing the bedóone of whom was my close friend and Senator Arlen Spectorís slave.
I excitedly called my friendís name.
"What are you doing here?" I
asked as we hugged each other.
"Small world," she said, as she always did when we were thrust
together in various places for prostitution and/or pornography. This
universal term was often used among those familiar with the Small,
Small World Disney-developed mind-control program.
I hugged my friend again, "Wow, it is a small world. Iím so glad
youíre here." I had no comprehension of our predicament and could not
see beyond the moment
"Hell girls! It is a small world!" Mulroney entered and strode
across the room, tossing his coat on a chair and loosening his tie.
"Watch it get smaller and smaller as we rocket further and further
He slipped out of his shoes, suspenders, and pants while he
continued his hypnotic metaphors. "Soaring through the sea of black
space. As the world gets smaller and smaller and smaller, then sinks
into the black sea of space."
Removing his boxer shorts, he
announced, "I brought you here for a purpose..." and proceeded
to access our sex programming.
In retrospect I know it was no coincidence that my friend and I were
brought together to satisfy Brian Mulroneyís perversion for
slaves. Identically mirror programmed, we operated in unison. The
delicate red rose tattoo on my friendís left wrist signified her
enslavement to the (New World ) Order of the Rose to which Mulroney
My friend and her young daughter reportedly were often transported
across the U.S.-Canadian border at Niagara Falls for prostitution to
Mulroney. The sexual abuse of her precious child was used as a
trauma base to maintain control of her mind just as Kellyís abuse
traumatized me, Mulroney had previously accessed sex programming at
Niagara Falls in my friend and me-along with our daughters-to
satisfy his sanctioned perversions as though it were "business
Had I been capable of connecting events, I would have felt
enormous relief that our daughters were not forced to participate in
his sexual assault this time.
"Mission" complete, I slipped on my dress and prepared to leave,
Mulroney pointed to me and cryptically said, "Iíll be seeing you
around. Maybe Iíll see you in Mackinac. May be. Somewhere in time."
In three lines, Mulroney expertly tied the immediate moment to
childhood cues and current Mexican NAFTA operations, as well as
prepared me for my next encounter with him on Mackinac Island.
1 "The Order of the Rose" was an emblem of those ushering in the New
"Orders from the Rose" were orders From George Bush.
2 Reagan first introduced me to U.N. Ambassador Madeleine
"my mentor" in Jesuit operations in the Caribbean "Madeleine
Albright is a Saint," Reagan told me, forming my perception of her
"The Mother Teresa of the Caribbean.í
3 While I was in Jamaica under Albrightís (via Bushís) instruction,
Larry Flynt photographers took advantage of my being there to use
the picturesque Dunns River Falls as a backdrop for pornographic
photos to be used in Hustler.
4 Reaganís red rose triggered a sexual mode usually used to
compromise/blackmail dignitaries and lock them into loyalty to the
Order of the Rose.
GLOBAL EDUCATION 2000
My programmed role toward implementing Education 2000 according to
plans of those ushering in the New World Order brought me back in
with former Governor of Tennessee, Lamar Alexander, and eventually
Prime Minister Brian Mulroney.
I had met Lamar Alexander in 1973, at a satanic ritual I was
subjected to in an affluent neighborhood of Nashville, Tennessee.
Lamar Alexander presided over this sex-oriented occult ritual with
full understanding of my Project Monarch Mind-Control victimization
and the impact his actions were having on my mind. It was my
experience then, and intermittently throughout the years, that Lamar
Alexanderís sexual perversion was to bring his victim to the point
of death through oral suffocation.
During the course of publicly exposing Tennesseeís need for
reform as instructed, I was in contact with Commissioners,
Mayors, and Lamar Alexander. Lamar Alexander, who followed Bennett
Bushís Secretary of Education, worked in close association with Bill
manipulate the minds of the masses to accept Education 2000 as the
means of education reform.
When Ned McWherter was moved into the
of Governor to rubber stamp federal projects, Lamar Alexander
influence over state politics. At the same time, he maintained
national politics through his role as chairman of the National
Association in 1986.
As the 1984 Governorís Convention drew near, I met with Lamar
Alexander at the Stockyard nightclub where he was drinking with his
long time associate and partner-in-crime, Nashvilleís Mayor Richard
Fulton. In the basement bar of this old, converted stockyard was a
modified antique "Shoe Shine" booth, where the term took on new
meaning. A key to a private shoeshine booth could be obtained by
those in the know through Stockyard owner, Buddy Killen.
closet-sized booth was lined in mirrors and had a small bench where
Lamar Alexander sat after our business was concluded. I knelt at his
feet as ordered to perform oral sex. Programmed sex slaves such as
myself were trained to go long periods of time without drawing a
breath, and users such as Alexander stretched this time to the
On this occasion, Alexander apparently exceeded the maximum. I do
not recall completion of my programmed task. It was after hours when
my mind- control handler, Alex Houston, dragged my limp body from
the booth, roused me, and ordered me out of the building. Buddy
Killen opened a back door that once was a cattle run, and Houston
half-dragged me out the back exit unseen.
The night of the Convention, Alex Houstonís youngest daughter,
Bonnie,2 was to join me. Bonnie and E were close to the same age,
and together we dressed for the occasion. As a prostitute, Bonnie
was familiar with Lamar Alexander and his perversions but
nevertheless was excited at the prospect of seeing "old friends" at
the Convention via Louise Mandrell,3 who would be entertaining
there. The comradery between Alex Houston and Mandrell that
developed during Bob Hopeís U.S.O. tours in the 1960s lasted for
decades due to their shared involvement in running mind-controlled
slaves for Byrd.
Bonnie shared in this friendship with the Mandrells and was looking
forward to seeing her "friends" in the band.
I, too, was looking forward to talking with Louise Mandrell, but for
a very different reason. Barbara had just endured her near-fatal car
crash, and I was deeply concerned for her welfare. Throughout the
1980s while traveling under the guise of the Country Music Industry,
Alex Houston toured with Barbara and/or Louise Mandrell on a regular
basis. Occasionally Barbara and I saw each other in "church," the
Hendersonville Lordís Chapel.
This church was an offshoot of Billy
Roy Mooreís Lordís Chapel, and was pastored by his mind-controlled
slave, Mike Nelson, who became close friends with Barbara.4 Alex
Houston and I were present when Mike Nelson broke program, and
attempted to flee for his Life with Barbara Mandrell. The pastor was
subdued with a stun gun and immediately relieved of his position,
while Barbara frantically sought answers to the questions the two of
them had managed to raise.
Alex Houston was touring with Louise Mandrel] in 1984 when Louise
had a "premonition" of Barbaraís imminent demiseómuch the same way
Loretta Lynn "psychically predicted" her sonís murder. Like the
murders of Lorettaís son and Country Music entertainer Keith
Whitley, I was aware of Barbaraís planned accident before it
occurred due to Alex Houstonís direct involvement.
were also used as a means of locking in my mind-controlled belief
that I had "no where to run and no where to hide". Worst of all, I
could not think to speak of what I knew due to my own absolute mind
control. While Barbara physically survived her ordeal, her voice was
silenced as planned.
When Bonnie and I arrived at Opryland Hotel, we hurried to the
ballroom where Louise Mandrell would be performing. My concern for
Barbara detracted me from my appointment with Lamar Alexander until
one of Louiseís dancers who knew of my role put me "back on track".
"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Youíre supposed to be at
Rhett Butlerís restaurant NOW."
I hurried to the restaurant where Lamar Alexander was having dinner
with Senator Byrd and several governors. Byrd was participating in
the function for reasons unknown to me, but I was aware that he had
fiddled at the Opry. Byrd stopped eating just long enough to
acknowledge my presence,
"Where have you been?"
"I was checking on Barbara over at the show," I replied as Lamar
Alexander excused himself and walked over.
Putting an arm around me and turning me away from the table,
he whispered, "You could wind up just like her if you donít get with
the program. Youíve got programs to hand out. But right now, youíre
interrupting my dinner. Have you had anything to drink?".
"No, Sir," I replied, traumatized at the magnitude of his
Lamar Alexander instructed me to leave immediately, order a
grasshopper from the conservatory bar, and wait for further
It was a matter of routine for me to order a "grasshopper" from
Opryland Hotelís conservatory. The ice cream "drink" was specially
madeóalways with a hypnotic drug in it. As sometimes happened, the
waitress was unfamiliar with the process, and conservatory harp
player and CIA operative Lloyd Lindroth interceded. The drug had the
same effect as that administered at the D.C. NASA programming center
by Bennett, and my mode was robotic compliance.
After the drug kicked in, Lloyd Lindroth instructed me to proceed to
the main ballroom of the Hotel, where Lamar Alexander would be
The outer lobby of the ballroom was decorated in wall-size murals
that extended to the top of the gothic ceiling. A life-size steam
engine depicted on the far wall appeared to be racing toward the
grand staircase. I had seen the murals numerous times before, but
never had they seemed so real as they did to me that night on the
NASA drug. The heavy double doors leading to the ballroom caused me
to feel very small as I pulled with all my strength to open it.
Inside, the room was a sea of black suits and ties, and I was
relieved when Lamar Alexander ushered me back out into the lobby.
Alexander positioned me near the train mural as a cryptic indicator
in the know that I was a "trained" mind-controlled slave. I was
provided a box
of brown envelopes packed with the Education 2000 information I was
out to the governors.
Alexander instructed me on exactly what I was
to say in
conjunction with the message Bennett had programmed me with in D.C.
he returned to the ballroom, where he apparently acted in the
capacity of a
"Are you waiting on the train?" a paunchy governor asked,
"No, Sir," I answered. Then, as instructed, I said, "But
I do have a
of information with your name on it. Shall 1 take it to your room
"Oh? And what is my name?" he asked.
"Governor," I responded. There actually were no names on the
"Astute," he responded. "And what is it you have for me?"
"This packet," I answered, handing it to him. "And anything else you
compliments of Lamar Alexander and (tapped) Secretary of Education,
According to some of the men, Alexander had cued them as to my
Others, such as then Governor of Pennsylvania, Dick Thornburgh and
Governor Dick Celeste already knew me,
"Iíve got a packet of information with your name on it.. "I was
saying as I
bent over to lift one from the box.
"I donít think so," Governor Blanchard of Michigan interrupted.
(Bennett) wouldnít stoop so low as to insult me that way. Iím doing
thing here you are, but from a very different approach. The figures
reflect the success of Education 2000 in the Michigan school
I recognized Governor Blanchard, and was well aware of Michiganís
ranking first in the nation in education.
"Speaking of which," he
continued, "I believe I see your mother more often than you do these
days since she is working in the schools. That little sister of yours
(Kimmy) is a prime example of what proper instruction can produce.
Your little sister is coming to Mackinac to further her skills. Your
whole family is a prime example of how good Education 2000 works."
I finally met up with Bonnie again in Lamar Alexanderís room as the
night came to a close. "Bonnie, howís that snake of yours?" he
asked. Bonnie, who had been filmed pornographically by CIA
commercial photographer Jimmy Walker with Dick Floodís snakes, had a
"Great!" Bonnie laughed. "Howís yours?"
"Constricted," he replied,
Bonnie unzipped his pants as she admittedly had done numerous times
past, playfully sayings "Let it loose!"
Lamar Alexander began removing his pants. Referring to me in
Project Monarch terms he said,
"When I first saw you, you were a worm
with no hint of being a butterfly."
"Daddy (Alex Houston) said she was a diamond in the rough,"
Bonnie volunteered, "She shines now". Turning to me he said, "I know
you are a shoe shiner, and mine need a shine." Bonnie, also familiar
with the Stockyard booth and Lamar Alexanderís meaning, laughed when
he said, "Why donít you both take a foot."
Task complete, I went to Byrdís nearby room as instructed. He was in
the bathroom preparing himself for bed, "Louise had her feathers
fluffed over Barbaraís collision with destiny and I had to smooth
them down a bit," Drying his dough grey hands on a towel, he turned
to me and said, "Looks like youíve had your wings spread a bit
"I wore a path up and down the stairs," I stated.
Much to my relief he said, "Iím not going to fiddle with you
farther. I just wanted to give you something to remember me by--Bye."
He compartmentalized my memory with his stun gun.
Soon thereafter, Kelly and I were transported to Mackinac Island.
Michigan to meet with Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney at
then-Governor James Blanchardís mansion.
Houston led Kelly and me to a horse drawn carriage as quickly as
we stepped off the ferryboat onto the timeless, antiquated island, I
noticed that the Canadian flags were again flying at the Grand
Hotel, but was of no mind to question, Kelly sat quietly beside me,
apparently drugged as our carriage took us through the woods to the
The guests in the mansion were reminiscent of the recent
Tennessee Governorís convention: Michigan Governor Blanchard, Ohio
Governor Dick Celeste, and Pennsylvania Governor Dick Thornburgh.
Guy VanderJagt and Jerry Ford were also present. Mulroney appeared
to be the guest of "honor".
He reached out his hands and greeted me,
"I told you I would see you
somewhere in time! I slipped time, space, and distance to be here
this evening. You and I have some ground to cover."
"Yes, Sir. President Reaganís Global Education Secretary
Bennett has sent me to deliver this education packet directly to
you." I was to deliver a large, brown envelope of documents similar
to those handed out at the Governorís Convention.
Blanchard excused himself. "Iíve already heard the schpiel," he said
as he turned to his other guests, leaving Mulroney and me alone,
"Global Education is the wave of the future," I recited as
programmed. As the world gets smaller and smaller due to higher
technology spanning the globe, our children must be educated in the
ways of the world. Education as it is, barely equips them for life in
their own backyard. We need to become involved in our childrenís
education for the sake of their future and our legacy. Global
education is the way. The only way, Look into it..." I handed him
the envelope. "...Peer into the future."
Mulroney uncrossed his arms long enough to accept the envelope,
which he casually tossed on a chair.
"I am interested in the
children, the legacy we leave them, and how we shape their future by
the way we record our history in their test." Using Order of the
Rose cues, he signaled me to photographically record his words for
"Tell Mr. Bennett(sss)," he hissed, cryptically
revealing his knowledge that Bill and Bob Bennett worked together
using reptilian-alien themes, "implementation is high. Iím already
sold on Global 2000 and have additional points I would like for them
to consider. Headsets at
every computer station for openers. Double the impact with dual
learning. Weíre being thrust forward at warp speed, and the
generations of the future may need an added booster to bring them up
to speed. A united global effort using your education package as a
basis is destined to bring the future into a clear and present
Business complete, Mulroney triggered my
sex programming and led me upstairs to the bedrooms where Kelly was
robotically waiting, entranced under Orders of the Rose.
1 I have witnessed girls die of suffocation from this practice oven
though 3 to 5 minutes without breathing is common.
2 While Bonnie was not raised in Project Monarch, Houstonís
pedophilia and stage hypnosis techniques rendered Bonnie unable to
control her own actions. Bonnie is a multiple with a record of
prostitution in need of therapy and care.
3 Irby Mandrell openly
discussed Senator Byrdís direct involvement in the Project Monarch
government mind-controlled victimizations of his incestuously abused
daughters with Houston. "Having babies can be a lucrative way to
feather your nest-thatís what the Byrd taught me." Mandrel!
continued, "Louise was a little withdrawn, and she needed to come
out of her cocoon and spread her wings. I ran the idea by Byrd, and
he said íIf she doesnít have a talent, letís make her one. What is a
band without a fiddle?í And viola, there she is. Another star on the
rise launched from NASA City, USA (Huntsville, Alabama)."
4 Friendships between mind-controlled slaves are usually forbidden,
and conversations are kept to a minimum lest cross-programming
triggering occurs. Throughout the years, my own relationship with
the Mandrells was limited to a superficial basis, whereas Irby
Mandrell employed Houstonís hypnotic abilities to maintain mind
control over his daughters while touring.
The Controlled Global Education
U.S. and Mexican relations were flourishing in the successes of
NAFTAís groundwork, while political differences pertaining to
Nicaragua remained a minor point of contention. Since the Catholic
Vaticanís Intelligence arm of Jesuits were working closely with U.S.
Intelligence to usher in the New World Order, they used their
established influence in Mexico and Nicaragua to provide a common
ground for "diplomatic relations".
My dual mind-control victimization by the
the Jesuits since childhood, and my previous
"diplomatic relations" in Mexico thrust me into the role of
messenger and prostitute to Nicaraguaís Daniel Noriega.
Were President Reaganís Nicaraguan Freedom Fighters fighters OF
freedom or FOR freedom? My mind-controlled existence rendered me
incapable of pondering such questions. Nevertheless, I had a
programmed "passion burning in my bosom" for the Contras as was
patriotically instilled through torture, when I embarked on my
"peacekeeping mission" to Nicaragua for Reagan tale in the summer of
I boarded NCL as usual to reach my appointed destination. Since
Nicaragua was not a port of call for NCL, I flew from the Yucatan of
Mexico to a remote military airstrip in Managua. It was in this
small mountain top clearing that I met with Commandant Daniel Ortega,
as had been arranged through
I was dressed seasonably in shorts, with my long blond hair lucked
hack in a French braid. Onegaís attire, too, was reflective of the
casual air to meeting. His tan, military uniform had worn thin, and
was free of any protocol insignias. The dark, rose-colored
sunglasses he peered through apparently had not changes his somber
view of the "noble cause" he claimed to represent. A man of few
words, he greeted me with an order, "Come with me." I rode
in silence as he drove a jeep the short distance across the airstrip
to a small, near, two story, white, frame house.
As we came to a stop in front of the house, Ortega said In a sad,
slow voice. "I have needs like any man. But I feel like a whore
myself for accepting your Presidentís offer."
His bedroom was clean and functional, with numerous assault weapons
scattered around, I did not see any modern conveniences or personal
effects, but Ortega seemed to be at home in his surroundings.
Ortegaís demeanor was that of a man who bad abstained from sex
longer than most in big political position. As he slowly unbuttoned
his shirt, I noticed a Catholic medallion with the secret Jesuit
ascension/descension symbol on it, a common accessory among Jesuit
spooks. He sat in wicker chair as I followed his silent lead in
gratifying him orally.
While he chain smoked cigarettes, I sat in front of him on the
floor, and relayed Reaganís message to him as programmed. I began.
"President Reagan has sent me as a messenger of peace."
He casually interrupted slowly looking me up and down.
"Iíd like to
have a piece in a few more minutes."
I continued, "Your people have
endured many hardships Throughout their existence. He (Reagan) only
wants to help. The American people want to see
peace and freedom in your land. Mexican and U.S. relations are
growing stronger by the day, and it is imperative that we resolve
your conflict in order to resolve our own with the Mexican government
We have come to the agreement with Mexico that the Nicaraguan
conflict must be resolved for the sake of your people as well as our
own, I am here on a peacekeeping mission representative of
Vatican-based common ground shared by both Mexican and American
governments, to enlighten you to our peaceful intentions.
unified effort of Mexican-American Catholic missions is to promote
peace in your region, while only enhancing your culture. The world is
rapidly turning toward world peace, and Nicaragua is way behind the
timesófrom technology and education to government ideals and
religious convictions. Pope John Paul is praying diligently for peace
in your region, and has joined forces with President Reagan, Mexico,
and even the Soviet Union to ensure that peace.
He (the Pope) knows
your goals, he knows your motives (I leaned forward, almost
whispering from my own instilled belief), he knows your soul. We can
all work in tandem to achieve that peace. Nicaragua, small though it
may be in relation to the rest of the world, is a significant
stepping stone toward unifying world powers. It can no longer be a
source of contention and disagreement.
Your people must be free.
Free to worship God through your holy Catholic church. That is first
and foremost on President Reaganís agenda, as well as the Popeís and
President de la Madridís. A New World Order is coming into being
with or without you; it is an inevitable process that cannot be
stopped. A whole new world of peace awaits us all. I can see you are
a peace-loving man. It emanates from your being.
Blood has flowed
across your land so heavily that your people are drowning in it.
Together we can cauterize that wound. Replace blood flow with cash
flow. Americanization can upgrade your technology at a rapid rate.
Your people could compete in world markets by the turn of the
century. Your future global position has already been determined by
geography alone. Flow with it. Lead your people out of poverty.
Educate them in a manner conducive to their destined position in
world markets. Free them from their struggles that have held them
captive for so long. Allow the church bells to ring with good news of
peace, prosperity and freedom. You can achieve all of your goals for
your countryís advancement with our help."
Ortega thoughtfully finished smoking a cigarette, and lit up another
as he confidently replied,
"Tell your President that I have seen his
freedom, and listened to" his words projected through yet another
example of it. He paints a beautiful picture suspended within his
A picture can appear serene to its beholder while it is
being gazed upon. I cannot worship a graven image, and the picture he
paints is just that. We have fought too hard and too long, spilling
sweat and blood across this land in our determined effort to
maintain human values instilled in us by our forefathers, who gained
their profound wisdom from the original Catholic missionaries.
These values are the same as those portrayed in President Reaganís
painted picture-only ours are real. His have only surface value,
like any other painting. If I were to concede, I would only be
framed within me picture he paints, hung on his wall like a trophy.
I will not mislead my people, in spite of his offers of wealth and
position, I am true to my convictions, and when he is true to his,
then we will meet on common ground and have something of substance
to discuss. For now, words are only a waste of our time."
Ortega put out his cigarette, and pulled back the covers on his bed.
"Iíll take you somewhere pleasant." He took a well-used opium
pipe/bong off his
dresser and handed me a nozzle, I had been trained to accept any
drug given to me with the only exception being the strictly
forbidden marijuana. I hesitated until Ortega assured me it was
opium. As the drug took affect he said, "This could be the way to
Sex with Ortega was at very least free of pain and
perversion. Unlike most I was forced to have "diplomatic relations"
with for the Reagan Administration, he fell asleep when he was
through due to the difference between opium and cocaine.
The honk of a jeepís horn outside awoke him. As I prepared to leave,
he said, "Wait". He took a small, 1/4 inch or so ball of black opium
from his personal stash, wrapped it in the cellophane from his
cigarette package wrapper, and said,
"Give this to your President and
tell him that you and I found more peace with this substance than
heíll ever impart on the surface of his painted globe,"
As he closed
the door quietly behind me he said, "Come back and see me when you
have more to offer. "
I was immediately returned by plane to Washington, D.C. where
my "mission" had originated. This time I was taken directly to Bushís
office, where I delivered Ortegaís message verbatim. Eliminating most
of the dialogue, Bush instructed me to deliver a partial message to
Reagan. Unable to perceive message content and people beyond my
"Need to Know" mind-controlled limited view, I had no concept that
Ortegaís message would have a negative impact.
It never occurred to
me that Ortega had proven himself to be as much a hypocrite as he
purported Reagan to be by using me as a prostitute and messenger of
bad news knowing full well that I had no free will with which to
make the message more palatable. Bushís revision of Ortegaís
message added fuel to a proverbial fire that I didnít even know was
burning when I delivered the message to Reagan.
Bush was with Reagan and me in Reaganís secondary office (to the
Oval office) of the White House as I relayed the message as
"Daniel Ortega is a peace loving man, who seeks the same
resolutions that we do. But he told me to tell you-(I dug in my purse
for the opium) that he and I found more peace in this substance - (I
handed the opium to Reagan) than youíll ever impart on the surface
of your painted globe."
Bush smiled as Reaganís face instantly turned beet red with rage.
Bush then reacted and spun up out of his chair, look the opium for
himself, and told Reagan, "Settle down. Thereís more. It seems the
only peace she spread was between her legs." He headed for the door,
saying, "I would reconsider my position if I were in your
shoesóconsidering whatís filling hers." Bush dropped his gaze down
the back of my legs to my shoes as he continued, "Itís running
both sides of her legs."
Obviously I wouldnít be subjected to sex with Reagan that day. I was
quickly excused and flown back to Mexico, where I resumed my NCL
cruise. With my memory of the event compartmentalized through high
voltage, I believed at the time that I had never been gone at all.
In the fall of 1985, the same part of me that met with Ortega was
walking with (Reagan appointed) CIA Director William "Bill"
through the harbored rose garden of his Long Island estate. Casey
began by manipulating my Jesuit/Vatican programming base personality
with the expertise indicative of the current union between Catholic
and CIA operations.
Casey, whom Reagan referred to as a "man of
Vision," was forming my Jesuit mind-control programmed
"I have a World Vision,1 one of peace. By re-moving
the more violent factions of societies world wide and replacing them
with faithful leaders of one world government, and the one world
church, global unification is eminent. It is a beautiful vision, and
it came to me in my dreams.
God has moved me to move men. Iíve moved
them here and Iíve moved them thereónow itís time to remove them. My
World Vision encompasses the globe and puts to rest any and all
tensions, strife, overpopulation, and starvation. My vision is a
World Vision, and the churches see it my way as evidenced by
their support of the cause."2
Referring to my mind-controlled involvement in Haitian operations
via NCL, Casey further defined íthe cause,í
"Your heartfelt mission
in Haiti has helped in my World Vision quest for her people to
abandon hedonistic voodoo and turn their eyes to God and Godly ways.
By their own design, they have created an atmosphere of evil whereby
a plague will be visited on their land.
The Lord has so moved me to
move men who share our goals into place, and remove those who stand
in the way of peace. It is for this reason that your mission in
Haiti must be brought to a close. Baby Doc, in his tireless devotion
to saving the demonically possessed cannot bear the burden
of watching his people die the wretched death unleashed upon those
doomed for hell.
We are left with no alternative but to heed the
word of God and spare him from annihilation. For this reason, we
will send in the missionaries (Jesuit Mercenaries) to inoculate the
population with a vaccine that will spare only the good of heart by
virtue of its design. All attempts to maintain Haiti within the loop
of financial gain will cease.
Tourism must be stopped for the sake
of the innocents visiting a plagued land. Despite our differences,
Baby Doc has complied with the Vaticanís orders to the test of his
abilities in his demon-infested land, and must resign his post. We
owe it to him to transport him to safety. It is our duty as
Americans and followers of God to obey the commands of our Lord and
Master and enforce the World Vision.
It is your duty as an American
and follower of God to instill the understanding that God has
spoken, and a plague is imminent. Baby Doc is being prepared for
transition and awaits word of direction. You will provide him with
With my perceptions distorted and Catholic Jesuit
programmed "understanding" instilled, I was prepared to "religiously
accept" any and all I was told. I believed that the revolution in
Haiti was a holy war, never capable of realizing it was a test run
battle for the minds in this 4th world country.
The devotion I felt toward the Haitian people was more than a
religious understanding of these alternately Catholic-Santeria3
voodoo worshippers. I was actually subconsciously recognizing other
tortured mind-controlled slaves in this human created hell called
Haiti. Consciously, I now know it was due in part to the visible
stun gun/prod marks, plastic ever-present smiles that never quite
reach their dead appearing eyes. The children clung to their
wide-eyed mothers, as they performed their tasks in robotic
servitude. I had recognized these characteristics in other slaves
throughout the years, but never had I seen a whole country
entranced. My compassion for the Haitian people penetrated into the
realm of the spiritual, into a part of me that mind control and
manipulation of religion could never touch.
Casey and I had been walking through the garden, guarded by more
armed men than the President. It wasnít that I was a threat, I couldnít even think to save myself. It was that Casey and his World
Vision were a threat to humanity that so many guards were needed.
The men appeared to be U.S. Secret Service officers according to
their attire, weapons, and earphone headsets. One guard
placed his hand to his headset, listening as though it were
remote control. He walked briskly over to Casey, who signaled me to
leave with an escort who instantly arrived at my side awaiting
"Take her to my chambers," Casey told him, "Clear her mind. I
have something I need to instill." Robotically I followed my escort
into Caseyís office library. The room was barren, dark, and hot-just
as described in a book I had been given to read in keeping with You
Are What You Read programming. It produced a sensation of having
somehow stepped into the novel Chameleon by insider William Diehl.
The mind scramble of the book and reality instantly commenced,
"Itís warm in here," the agent said, unbuttoning my while eyelet
blouse." Bill (Casey) likes to keep it this way in case-he (Casey)
gets a chill and his blood runs cold. Chameleons4 are naturally cold
blooded. Make yourself comfortable white I turn up the heat. Mr.
Casey doesnít want to hear a peep out of you, so Iíll warn you now-be
He deliberately triggered and activated the Jesuit
programmed part of me that believed in my Vow of Silence.5 The walls
have ears and the plants have eyes, so your silence is tantamount to
success. Iím going to leave you to reflect in Silence, Bill will be
along any minute."
Had I been capable of "reflecting," I would have questioned the
validity of Caseyís dramatic position of "religious overtones" on
Haitian policy. Like Reaganís, Caseyís sincerity did not ring true
considering the fruits of his labor, But then, I could not consider
any more than I could reflect, and I sat in a state of what felt
like suspended animation awaiting my instructions.
I could not
anticipate nor dread what was about to happen as futuristic
thinking was left in the hands of my controllers. Had I realized the
scramble of reality with William Diehlís book, I could have
"psychically" predicted what happened when Bill Casey strolled
in. Casey walked over to his highly polished, dark wood desk and
opened the top drawer. Caseyís desk was one of the few furnishings
in the large, airy room.
The dark, polished, reddish-wood paneling
seemed even darker with the midnight blue carpeting curving slightly
up the wall. Heavy, gothic maroon velvet drapes blacked out the sun
from the windows behind his desk, "I can see quite clearly that you
have taken a Vow of Silence, Maintain it. Maintain it and Lisssten,"
Casey hissed, using preset triggers. He reached into the drawer and
took out a foot-long, maroon box with a diamond embossed on the top.
"I received a box, quite anonymously as I do from time to time,"
Casey said in keeping with the book scramble. "The box has your name
on it. I expected to open it and find the usual pierced chameleon
and found, instead, a weapon intended for one."
He opened the box in front of me. Inside, laying on a bed of cotton,
was an elaborate dagger with a handle of the same rose crystal from
which the crucifix Byrd had presented me on "our wedding night" was
made. My first personal meeting with Casey promised to be torturous
as I recognized Byrdís participation in the grisly ordeal.
I listened, deeply tranced, as Casey said,
"Is it a knife or a
crucifix? I canít tell. Both symbolize martyrdom as far as Iím
concerned. Note the rose pattern cut into the crystal. Now, I wonder
who would have sent me this to give to you."
Even under mind control I knew, as I was supposed to, that Byrd
had provided him with the knife. My worst fears were confirmed when
Casey began using Byrdís hypnotic induction, "In like a knife, sharp
and clean, Iíll carve out what I want." Casey sliced through the
front of my bra, exposing the area between my breasts where Byrd
routinely cut me with his pocketknife.
He pierced into my breastbone
deeply so that I believed I would split, and indeed did split off a
personality fragment compartmentalizing this event. Using standard
Jesuit-based infinity program, Casey instructed me and programmed me
with messages that I would deliver as though my life depended on it.
"You must go to the Citadel and warn our Dominican brothers of
impending doom to their neighbors in Haiti. From the Dominican side
(of the Haitian island) you will be flown to Port Au Prince where
you will meet with Baby Doc (Duvalier) at his Palace. He is already
receptive to your word, and knows that my words are your words and
your word is Silence. You must tell General Cedras his Order is from
Casey touched the white rose in his lapel, signaling me
to photographically record his words verbatim.
When he was through programming me with his message, Casey told
me, "As quickly as you complete this mission, you must depart Haiti,
never to return again." Casey used excessive high voltage to
compartmentalize my memory. I recall being nauseated and ill from
his stun gun as I departed his Long Island compound/home via ferry
programmed with messages to Cedras and Baby Doc.
Haiti had recently been dropped from the NCL itinerary as a Port of
Call, but the Dominican Republic side of the island remained open to
tourism. When Houston and I debarked the NCL ship in Puerta Plata,
we walked past a World Vision cargo ship that was being unloaded at
the dock. I recall that a soft ocean breeze gently lifted the hem of
my white, gauzy dress as I weaved my way through the dock load of
World Vision freight to a waiting automobile.
Religion and politics apparently mix in the Dominican Republic
as evidenced by the inseparable mixture of Catholic Missions, old
forts, statues of Christopher Columbus, and Catholic Shrines. As we
drove past the mountain tramway that takes tourists up and down to
the rustic Citadel and Catholic Shrine at the top, Houston
perpetuated the "Chameleon" book scramble. Dually referring to
Cedras and the short donkey ride from the tram to the Citadel
depicted in Diehlís book, Houston threatened to put me on the
rickety tram saying, "Some Jackass will see you at the top."
In an area reserved for covert activities, out of view of tourists,
I met with General Cedras in his Citadel office. Dressed in the
eerie, Jesuit, dark, hooded robe, Cedras completed Caseyís
"Chameleon" book scramble scenario as we walked through the ancient
structure to his office. Cedrasí demeanor made him
appear more as a militant than a "spook," despite the corny monkís
attire. With his hood down his back, Cedrasí sharp, craggy features
and darting steel blue eyes kept my full attention. I had seen him
at a monastery in Santo Domingo as ordered before,6 when Haiti was
still being used by the CIA for Operation Watchtower to transport
cocaine and Contra weapons from Cuba.
Alone with Cedras and properly signaled, I began photographically
reciting Caseyís message,
"I have word of warning from the Vatican
by way of the honorable and faithful William Casey. He sends word of
impending doom that is to befall your neighbors on the dark side in
Haiti. Voodoo manifest itself in mysterious ways while the way of
the Lord is clear. Evil must be stopped at all costs. The cost shall
be in terms of human casualty, as a plague is being visited upon the
land. Those who fornicate with devils shall be infested with the
plague. Woo unto them who have stood in the path of World Peace. By
Godís design the New World Order shall come into being with or
without the Haitians.
All American operations in Haiti are now
destined for your ports. Your people (the CIA-UN operated
Dominicans) will flourish in peace and prosperity while the dark
side (Haitians) drown in the blood of this holy war that they have
brought upon themselves. Close your borders swiftly and maintain
guardians at the gate lest the Haitians infest your land with their
evil plague. Inoculation of the masses shall be masked in the body
and the blood shall carry the doom.
As more and more Haitians turn
to God in their final hour, the communion they partake will be
Satanís own. With their God as the scapegoat, your Island in the Son
(sun) will be freed of the vile and wicked. I have seen a vision, a
World Vision, and it is through communion with the ancients that we
have been granted the Keys to the Kingdom 7 to unlock the gates of
hell. The holy water sent herein has the blessings of
the Vatican and
must be sprinkled like rain upon the Haitians.
Our God reigns, and he
rains rivers of blood upon the Haitian masses, and he reigns supreme
upon your mission. Your mission is clear. You serve communion and let
God son them out. Those who serve the body of Christ are covered by
the Vatican, those who serve voodoo evil shall be covered in the
blood of their own. It is clear our God reigns. Lei the games
Combining the cryptic language of Cedrasí CIA and Jesuit
operations, Casey had weaved numerous cryptic commands into his
message. Had I been inadvertently accessed, the instructions would
make little sense to those not cued to the language. Cedras was
listening religiously, fully grasping the magnitude of Caseyís
instructions. I concluded the message,
"The holy water with
the Vaticanís blessings will arrive at 1 PM today by way of World
Vision, The blood shall host the plague."8
I was relieved to depart Cedrasí presence without being subjected to
his usual perverse sexual brutality. This would be someone elseís
job this time, as my programmed trance was maintained until I
delivered Caseyís message to Baby Doc Duvalier on the "dark side" of
the "Island in the Son".
Houston took me to the small CIA-operated airport at the foot of the
mountain where I boarded a small, white airplane destined for Port
Au Prince, Haiti. When we landed, the pilot walked me over to Baby
Docís Tonton guards, and ordered that I be taken to the Palace. He
spoke in rapid Haitian French, and lifted my symbolic, rosy cross
necklace for emphasis to the guards.
Reinforcing my instilled belief
that the Catholic emblem would protect me, the guards treated me
with the respect that apparently was reserved for identified Jesuit
spooks. I was driven by white Mercedes to the Haitian
Presidential Palace. Looking even more conspicuously out of place in
contrast to stark
poverty than his fleet of Mercedes, Baby Docís Palace was decadent.
I stood reverently in the foyer waiting for my arranged meeting to
begin, unable to question Baby Docís luxurious surroundings in view
of the despair and starvation around him.
I had met with Baby Doc throughout the early í80s in the capacity of
a Project Monarch prostitute. All Haitian-based U.S. covert
operations were run by a bed-ridden old man referred to as "Olí
Charlie," who resided at the El Presidente Hotel until his death in
the mid í80s. During my tenure as a mind-controlled messenger and
prostitute in Haiti, I had been forced to attend a voodoo ceremony
for my (and othersí) traumatization purposes.
I was ordered to
perform oral sex on Baby Doc as his dark-windowed Mercedes slowly
proceeded through the crowds of Haitians on their way to the ritual.
With my Haitian missions previously established with Olí Charlie for
business and Baby Doc for prostitution, my meeting Baby Doc for
business was unprecedented.
"What brings you here?" Baby Doc spit the words at me in English. I
had been led into his library by three armed guards, "I have no need
of a Catholic whore."
Baby Docís applicable knowledge of the English language was limited
by his intellect whereby an aide filled the need for an interpreter
as I delivered Caseyís message.
"I come in the name of peace. I have a message for you from
Casey, sanctioned by the Vatican. The Pope is in agreement with U.S.
policy in Haiti. He has seen a vision, a sign from God. The vision
is a World Vision, whose people are reaching out to yours with
charily in abundance. The goods and services provided require only
that the people of Haiti anoint the sick, feed the hungry, and
clothe the poor through his servants of World Vision.
will separate good seed from bad and restore peace in your region.
The peace that shall be visited upon your land amongst your people
is imminent, but not before the rivers run red with the blood of the
wicked. The vision is plague, and your people will fall in the
streets pleading for mercy, and you will not be here to hear it. The
lime has come for you to leave. It is Godís will that you escape the
plague with blessings from the Vatican, never to return to
Prepare for your exodus today for tomorrow holds a
promise of doom. Using your prophetic wisdom, warn the masses of
impending doom and arm them with World Vision. The vision is one of
peaceí for those who flock to the tents and churches for salvation.
Your destiny is clear, and the Vatican has cleared the way for your
With Caseyís message delivered, Baby Docís Tontons returned me to
the same airplane I had left a short time before. I flew in silence,
unable to think to comprehend the magnitude of what had just
transpired. Events to a mind- controlled slave are all perceived as
first and last times.
Therefore, Caseyís instructions that I would
"depart Haiti, never to return again" seemed business as usual to me.
Flying over the mountains that separate Haiti from the Dominican
Republic, I noticed the gentle people below bathing in
the waterfalls, toilessly washing their bright clothes on the rocks,
and primitively hauling goods in the baskets balanced on their heads.
An occasional goat ran across the barren land, and the children,
bellies swollen from starvation, played with slicks and vines.
my mind-controlled and spinning with misperceptions, my whirled
vision, like Ortegaís rose colored glasses, prevented me from seeing
the reality of New World Orders.
1 World Vision was/is a Jesuit controlled organization that led
churches to give them money under the guise of spreading world
peace. What they were not saying was what the money was actually
funding-a world peace plan under mind control.
Perceptual distortions of the virtues that good people hold most
dear is one reason for the proliferation of criminal activity within
such organizations as World Vision. There are those within affected
factions of such organizations, the Catholic church, and even the
U.S. Government that operate under distorted perceptions referred to
by the CIA as a "Need to Know" basis--and they "Need to Know" that
their minds, religion, and/or perceptions are being deliberately
3 Since the Catholics had joined forces with the United Nations to
overtake the world through mass mind control, the Jesuit influence
on Haiti was complete. By maintaining much of the ceremony, placing
literal interpretation on "eating the body and drinking the blood,"
and providing a mirror reversal of good and evil, Catholicism and
voodoo, like Catholicism and the United nations, became one in the
4 The term "Chameleon" is a term used to describe spies who are
expertly trained to blend into any environment at any time
unnoticed-just as an MPD mirrors the one theyíre with.
5 The Jesuit Vow of Silence was installed through the Rite to Remain
Silent of my childhood. Now I know, like so many others in
Intelligence, that "Silence Equals Death". Knowledge is our ONLY
defense against mind control.
6 Byrd had told me that Cedras was "a strategically placed chess
piece that the CIA, Jesuits and U.N. moved around" to usher in their
New World Order,
7 "Keys to the Kingdom" was defined by Bill Bennett in accordance
with Jesuit programming as follows: "At the onset of Christianity,
the Apostles compiled all the information that they had obtained
from Christ and built the Holy Catholic Apostolic Church. Christ
intended it to be the one world church thenóthe truth, the light,
and the way. The secrets were kept in the ark of the covenant, and
passed down generation after generation. And generation after
generation Christ caused for more to be written-the fruits of his
labors expounding on the truth. Now the ark has become archivesóa
wealth of information. This information is accessible to very fewó
the very few who hold the Keys to the Kingdom".
8 Interpretation of the final message is left to the minds of the
masses who can still discern truth. My conclusions are "clear",
bused on conversations overheard and my experience as a White House
sex slave. Although Byrd and Reagan, among others, had prostituted
me to officials in AIDS-infected countries, they used no protection
against "the plague" when having sex with me.
9 There can be no world peace without peace-of-mind, and there is no
peace-of-mind under mind control. Haiti, once a prototype of New
World Order controls has now been used up and discarded by the CIA
and Jesuits. U.N. "peacekeeping forces" have created a smoke and
mirrors illusion of "peace" by keeping it FROM the Haitian people.
A-HUNTING WE WILL GO
On December 4, 1986, I turned 29 years old.
mind-controlled slaves were discarded, "thrown from the Freedom
train," at 30; but I argued with Houston when he told me my
government abusers only had one year left to "use me up". I had had
no conscious awareness of the passing of time, and believed I was
still only 24. Regardless of what I believed, my abusers did their
best to "use me up" physically and psychologically before even a
month had passed.
I was in Washington, D.C. on a routine trip, which included
being prostituted to President Reagan. "Uncle Ronnieís" cheeks were
flushed from excitement and cognac as he told me, "I always take two
weeks off for Christmas to go back to California." Reagan
interrupted himself to break into an old Hollywood style song and
dance, "California here I come..."
The White House, he claimed, had
always been confining to him, and he appeared genuinely excited
about his upcoming trip.
"I look forward to this trip every year
because I get to see old friends. Oh, I still work while Iím
there - the Presidentís work is never done - but at least Iím there.
Itís about time you see where I call home."
Then, quoting the Wizard
of Oz, he said, "íThereís no place like home.í And youíre about to
see why. Say it with me, "Thereís no place like home. Thereís no
place like homeí."
Then he instructed me in Oz cryptic,
heels. Thereís no place like home."
Blue-white light seemingly exploded in my brain, like being hit with
deadly low voltage AC electrical current. Reagan was "setting the
stage" for an attempted mind scrambling time slip, to be reactivated
at an upcoming meeting I would have with him in Bel Air, California.
The motor home was packed to the walls, and the walls were packed
with cocaine as Houston, Kelly, and I departed on our long drive to
California. Houston had planned several "tourist stops" along the
way that proved as "nightmarish as the California ordeal itself."
In Las Vegas, Nevada, Houston kept Kelly and me busy prostituting us
to everyone he knew "in the know" and in attendance at the Country
Music Associationís annual convention. Weary of being sent from room
to room, I was back in the lobby literally trying to catch my breath
when I saw Michael Dante. He was dressed in an expensive, light grey
silk suit and dark glasses, looking more like a Fed than a mobster,
leaning on a post, waiting for met "Our love" he professed over the
phone for mind conditioning purposes was certainly not apparent now.
"Youíre late," he growled as he looked at his watch.
He ordered me
into the Ladiesí Room to activate programming by having me "lose
myself" in the infinity mirrors that lined the walls. With my mind
set like he wanted, he then used and directed me in commercial
pornography. Later, he did the same with Kelly.
At the Grand Canyon, Houston traumatized Kelly and me in preparation
for the upcoming events in California. While hiking down the
canyon, Houston attempted to anchor hypnotically all of the tripís
events behind the death and insanity programming to which he was
subjecting us. When we stopped for a late afternoon lunch in the
Canyon, Kelly collapsed in a state of shock, unable to eat. Houston
was pleased because he "got to eat it all himself".
I was, as
usual, undergoing the food and water deprivation. I was so thirsty,
I could not think to eat. Kellyís condition magnified my own
terrified state, and I did all I could to keep Houston from
supposedly pushing her over the edge. I carried her for hours all
the way out of the canyon, without pausing to rest. In my own mind I
wanted to believe I was actually able to protect her. The fact
was, Houston was wearing me down physically to ensure that I could
not protect her at our next destination: Lake/Mount Shasta,
George Bush was highly active in both the Lampe, Missouri and
Shasta, California retreat compounds. Just like Lampe, Shastaís cover
was country music. According to everyone I knew, singer and
songwriter Merle Haggard supposedly ran the show at Lake Shasta,
diverting any and all attention from the nearby Mount Shasta
Shasta was the largest, covert mind-control slave camp of
which I am aware. Hidden in the wooded hills, military fencing
corrals an enormous fleet of unmarked, black helicopters and more
mind-controlled, military robots than I saw in all of Haiti. This
covert military operation served its own agenda, not Americaís. I was
told and overheard that it was a base for the future
Multi-Jurisdictional Police Force; for enforcing order and law in
the New World Order. In the center of the high security compound,
was another well-guarded military-fenced area that was regarded as a
"Camp David" of sorts for those running our country.
George Bush and
Dick Cheney shared an office there, and claimed the outer perimeter
woods as their own hunting ground where they played "A Most
Dangerous Game". Predicated on conversations I overheard between the
two, it was this world police military background that earned Dick
Cheney his cabinet appointment as Secretary of Defense 1 with the
Houston stayed at Haggardís Lake Shasta resort while Kelly and I were helicoptered to Mount Shasta for our scheduled meeting with
Bush and Cheney. The helicopter pilot directed our attention to the
military fencing surrounding the outer perimeter of the compound.
Rarely did pilots ever speak to either of us, but this one smiled
wickedly as he told us we would need to know the outer limits for A
Most Dangerous Game.
As soon as we arrived at Bush and Cheneyís inner sanctum, I noticed
George Bush, Jr. was with them. It was my experience that Jr. stood
by his father and covered his backside whenever Bush would become
incapacitated from drugs or required criminal backup. It appeared
that Jr. was there to serve both purposes while his father and
Cheney enjoyed their work-vacation.
Hyper from drugs, Cheney and Bush were eager to hunt their human
prey in "A Most Dangerous Game". They greeted me with the rules of
the game, ordered me to strip naked despite the cold December winds,
and told me in Oz cryptic to "beware of the lions and tigers and
bears". Kellyís life became the stakes, as usual, which resurrected
my natural and exaggerated programmed maternal instincts. Tears
silently ran down my cheeks as Bush told me,
"If we catch you,
Kellyís mine. So run, run as fast as you can. Iíll get you and your
little girl, too, because I can, I can, I can. And I will."
Cheney, daring me to respond, asked, "Any questions?" I said,
"Thereís no place to run because thereís a fenceóthe kind I canít
get over. I saw it"
Rather than physically assault me. Cheney laughed at my sense of "no
whereto run, no where to hide and explained that a bear had torn a
hole in the fence somewhere, and all I had to do is find it. He
lowered his rifle to my head and said, "Let the games begin. Go."
Wearing only my tennis shoes, I ran through the trees as fast and as
far as I could, which wasnít very far at all. Bush was using his
bird dog to track me, the same one that had recently been used with
me in bestiality filming as a "Byrd-dog" joke on my owner,
Byrd. When caught, Cheney held his gun to my head again as he stood
over me, looking warm in his sheepskin coat. Bush ordered me to take
his dog sexually while they watched, then he and Cheney ushered me
back to their cabin.
I pulled on my clothes and sat in the office part of the cabin
awaiting instructions. I had no idea where Kelly was, nor do I in
retrospect. Bush and Cheney were still in their hunting clothes when
the programming session began. Bush said,
"You and I are about to
embark on A Most Dangerous Game of diplomatic relations. This is my
game. You will follow my rules. I will have the distinct advantage
of hunting you with my Eye in the Sky (satellite).
Iíll watch every
move you make. As long as you play the game by my rules and make no
mistakes, you live. One mistake and Iíll get you, my pretty, and
your little girl, too. You die, and Kelly will have to play with me.
I prefer it that way. Then it will be her Most Dangerous Game. The
cards are stacked in my favor because, well, it is my game! Are you
There was no choice. I responded as conditioned, "Yes, Sir! Iím
game." The parallels to The Most Dangerous Game that had just
occurred in the woods were deliberate and intended to make retrieval
of memory "impossible" due to cryptoamnesia scrambling.
"Good. Then let the games begin. Listen carefully to your
instructions. You have no room for error." Cheney flipped his "game
timer"óan hourglass. Bush continued, "This game is called the King
and Eye, and hereís the deal. You will be establishing stronger
diplomatic relations according to order between Mexico, the U.S., and
the Middle East. Your role will require a change of face at each new
place. Iíll chart your course, define your role, and pull your
strings. Youíll speak my words when I pull your strings. There is
no room for error."
Cheney was half lying across the plain, military issue style desk in
an apparent drug stupor as Bush talked. Still wearing his hunting
coat and hat, Cheney aimed his rifle at me from the desk and
threatened, "Or a-hunting we will go." Bush finished Cheneyís threat
by singing, "Weíll catch a fox and put her in a box and lower her in
Bush looked at Cheney and burst out laughing. The sight of him
dressed in his hunting clothes with a huge bore, double-barreled
shotgun to his shoulder inspired Bush to tell him he "looked tike
Cheney, imitating the cartoon character, said, "Where is that waskily wabbit?"
Operation The King and Eye would involve Reaganís #1 envoy Philip Habib (who cryptically played the Alice In Wonderland role of the
White Rabbit with slaves such as myself) and Saudi Arabian King Fahd. So when Bush referred to the two as "Elmer Fahd and the
Waskily Wabbit," he and Cheney laughed until they cried.
were already high from drugs anyway, they had a great deal of
difficulty maintaining composure long enough to complete my
1 Dick Cheney has no official U.S. military history to justify his
position as our nationís former Defense Secretary under President