The Mindstorm Chronicles: Chapter Five

The Mindstorm Chronicles:

Chapter Five

A work of fiction? A work of non-fiction? The work of insanity?

You decide.

 

As I was saying, my dog was enough company for me most of the time. Well, along with my mother, of course, who had just as much time on her hands as I did, and didn't mind spending it with me whenever I wanted to learn something, or whenever I was just bored. Growing up a farm girl, she knew more ways to entertain your mind than anyone else that I ever knew.

 

She knew every kind of riddle and puzzle, all kinds of jokes and card tricks, and she allowed her thoughts to be all her own, profound and deep, even if it would only be years later that I understood how exceptional she was in that way. For all I knew all mothers were like that, and I suspect that a good many really are. She respected me enough to let me think about things which most grown ups wouldn't have bothered teaching to someone my age. So, I suppose that there is something to be said for boredom, that it often leads to things like creativity. And discussion.

 

One night we were talking about telepathy and I challenged her to prove that she could suggest things to people that way. She said alright, then wrote down something on a piece of paper and said that I would do it. She said is was something that I never, ever did, but that she wished that I would. So I sat there intent on not doing anything at all just to see. But wouldn't you know it, after awhile I became restless and fidgety and the first thing I did was put the top back on the ketchup bottle, just as she said. That's what was written on the piece of paper.

 

Not that she would do that kind of thing alot, just whenever she wanted people to go home.

 

Before we had moved out to the old fox farm in the hills there between Moonridge and Big Bear City, we'd rented a cabin in 'Bear City that belonged to a Polish family that had seven kids. They became our good friends, and if you can imagine what it was like to go from just me and the dog to the nine of us whenever they'd visit, well, you'd think the circus had arrived in town. They were great people, very kind, very thoughtful, and very smart. One of the two girls was about my age. And I had my first crush on her.

 

One night, when they had visited us at the cabin that we had rented there, before moving out to Fox Farm Road, the mother of the seven kids from who we had rented the house began to tell my mother about having been in a concentration camp during the big war. She was just a young girl then, and the Nazis had come to their town and rounded up all the young women and took them away to make prostitutes of them, not that I would have known what that meant, but later my mother told me enough about it, something like that they were forced to be wives for people who didn't have wives, sort of thing. Because she was a nurse and had medical skills they put her to work in a concentration camp. She had tried to escape with some other girls by swimming across a river, but she got caught up in what she thought was some sort of sea weed or something, only to find out that she'd become entangled in human intestines. They caught the girls who had tried to flee.

 

She talked for hours and hours about all of that, as if she could never say enough about it. About how she was forced to watch them do cruel things to people but couldn't do anything about it. And about how they didn't know that any of this was going to happen, how they just ended up on a train going somewhere and were taken into the camps. That's when she showed us the numbers that were tattooed on her arm. All of that was as horrifying as it was interesting to a boy who wasn't even six years old yet. I didn't sleep so well that night, I was experiencing emotions I had never had before, and had no idea just what to call them. But I tried not to think about it too much, except that I finally remembered who Nazis were from the old war movies that I'd seen. And I was proud as could be that my country fought against such things.

 

So I didn't come to all of this Nazi spy business without any understanding at all, though like most folks I had no idea how anyone could ever be so mean in the first place. I had an older brother, so I understood mean. But I didn't understand about, nor had I ever even heard the word cruelty. Maybe I had heard it in the movies, and from my sister, but truth be told, there were a lot of words that I didn't understand in the movies.

And lots of words that my sister said that I didn't know what they meant. She was much older.

 

It wasn't until we moved to Fox Farm Road that my mother turned up one day with a Tricolor Collie puppy which I wanted to name Laddie, just because I loved the movie "Lassie", which I'd only ever seen in black and white. And everyone in those days would say, "Oh! You have a Lassie Dog!" And I would correct them by saying no, we had a Laddie dog. My mother thought that he might be part wolf because of the way he sort of hung his nose over the edge of his water bowl when he'd take a drink. Anyway, we were practically inseparable from the very first day. And as he grew we found him to be really smart. Whenever our flatland friends would come up for the weekend, often with other members of our family who were still living in Lil' Miss, my Dad would take us all out to hike in the woods somewhere, and that dog would liked to have worked himself to death running up and down the line, keeping us all together. Up to the front he would go and grab the lead persons sleeve and gently tug to slow them down, and once that was accomplished he'd run to the end of the line and hurry up the slower ones.

 

He was a great bodyguard as well. If ever anyone ever began to play fight he would separate them. All you would have to do is hold up a fist like you were going to punch somebody and you were going to have to deal with that dog first. But being as I was the youngest, and the closest with Lad, he always listened to me first. My brother was quite a bit older than me and all I ever had to do was say, "Get 'em, Lad!" and that dog was all over him whenever he tried to pick on me. Of course, Laddie always listened to my Mom, as well. After all, she fed him more often than we did. He learned all of the usual dog tricks, but never seemed to feel too obliged to perform them either. Sometimes I thought that he was every bit as smart as anyone else, and maybe even smarter.

 

Sometimes in the summer we'd go down the hill and spend some time in Lil' Miss. The suburbs were noisy and smelly, but full of action everywhere. I'd catch up with my best friend and neighbor, who was Navajo, and along with all the otherkids who were coming by tosee us we'd go out into "the jungle" nursery and play Army and get as dirty as kids could ever hope to get. My sister was fond of taking me to movies and reading me stories at night, she introduced me to A.A. Milne's Now We Are Six when I had just turned that age. She was always protective of me and stood up for me every time. Being high school age, she didn't have much use for the mountains, all of her friends were in Downey, and so she stayed there with my Dad and Granny, and sometimes my older brother, who seemed to be content in either place, but ended up liking the mountains more than the flatlands. Our folks let us decide in which place we would like to live, but I was always going wherever my Mom went, and so did Lad.

 

The city was a much busier place and I didn't have time to worry about aliens or Nazi spies or any such things. Only once do I remember when I was a kid the elder alien trying to speak with me when I was there. But I was too busy enjoying the business of city dwelling, all my friends and family, catching up with the TV and so forth, and I didn't want to become worried right then about anything, and the once that I did try and set apart some time for a discussion kept getting interrupted by one person or the next, and so whatever it was would just have to wait. Besides, I was just a kid, and something about being a kid in the city just made me feel so much less important than I did in the mountains where one could hike all day and not see another human being anywhere. So I would usually tell them that, well, if it were really important they should talk to my Dad, he would know better than I did anyway. To which the alien, once again, in my minds eye, just seemed perplexed. And in fact the alien came back to me and said something to the effect that my Dad didn't really understand, but I would have none of it at that point. I thought it would make me seem crazy to go having these silent conversations right about then when everyone seemed to want my attention.

 

To be clear about all of this, my father and I never discussed aliens in my whole life. There was once when I was much older when the subject came up and he gave me a very serious look, but no talk about aliens. And when he passed away everyone was wondering if he had worked for the government or something. People had little stories about mysterious calls, limousines, getting things past airport security, the things he used to know and so on. But although to me he seemed to know so much more about the world than anyone else that I knew, he never mentioned anything to me about such things, although some times it was if between us there were things unspoken about something going on. For all I knew, his only involvement with anything of the kind was when he was a SCUBA diver repairing war torn ships in Pearl Harbor, or that he was a deputy sheriff so that he could perform Civil Defense duties during the war. But folks were right, that he had a mysterious side to him. Somehow, he could even carry his gun on a plane. But I'm not sure to this day what any of that was really about, although I've heard some interesting things via telepathy, but at a time when, quite frankly, I was just overwhelmed by everything, and can't be entirely sure about what I'd heard.

 

I have a really good memory. You know, when I was just two we had a monkey who used to steal my lolly pops from a string of them tied to my high chair. But I didn't know about monkeys, so I thought that he was an older brother or an adult or something, and that he knew what he was doing, I didn't. But I'll never forget the guilty look on his face when he would do it, or the day my mother caught him at it.

 

End Chapter Five

 

Bush Thinks the Unthinkable, Terrorizes by WMD Threat

Bush Thinks the Unthinkable, Terrorizes by WMD Threat

This article by Paul Craig Roberts is a great one. It lays out how the Bush administration has reinvented our ideas about weapons of mass destruction and presidential authority in a way that would allow nukes to be used in first strike aggression. And it may explain why General Pace lost his job.

 

From the article:

 

"It is the absolute responsibility of everybody in uniform to disobey an order that is either illegal or immoral."

General Peter Pace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, National Press Club, February 17, 2006.

 

"They will be held accountable for the decisions they make. So they should in fact not obey the illegal and immoral orders to use weapons of mass destruction."

General Peter Pace, CNN With Wolf Blitzer, April 6, 2003

 

About the author of the article:

 

"Paul Craig Roberts was Assistant Secretary of the Treasury in the Reagan administration. He was Associate Editor of the Wall Street Journal editorial page and Contributing Editor of National Review. He is coauthor of The Tyranny of Good Intentions."

Paul Craig Roberts: The Reign of the Tyrants is at Hand

Insanity at the Helm, Mind Control and the White House

The Command is Section Eight: Psychosexual Pathology and MKULTRA  

One would have to be a psychologist, a psychiatrist, or a mind control victim in order to understand these people.

In keeping with the analysis from some of my earlier articles, the systemic psychosexual pathology of our military leadership becomes apparent through their policies. The military concludes in it's investigations that the guards at Abu Gharib didn't merely take it upon themselves to sexually abuse prisoners, but there was no authority given to investigate higher ups.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20070616/pl_afp/usiraqmilitaryprison_070616234741

 

Sexual abusers are by nature power abusers, they really don't know the difference between sex, violence and power. When they are in control, the mindset of such persons becomes systemic. Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld, who still advises, should be required to stand down immediately pending a full psychological evaluation. I believe that they are all mind controlled and MPD/DID. I know. I am MPD/DID. The following seems to reflect their own childhood trauma:

 

The Raw Story | Seymour Hersh reveals shocking new details of Abu Ghraib; 'Father and son forced to do acts together'

 

In an earlier article in this journal, "Post: Psychosexual Methodology" I pointed to the psychosexual codes employed by MKULTRA, codes which reflect the profoundly degenerate modes of thinking which apparently indicate generations of abuse. The code itself is abusive and mind controlling, which is how I happened to learn it, and also to diagnose the abnormal psychology in their philosophy of "might alone makes right". From the article:

 

"Because I am intimately familiar with MKULTRA techniques, I was having some success also by searching for and employing some rather graphic triggers, things that I knew would throw them off balance emotionally. So I would begin, for example, to ask them if they were sexually abused as children, how often, was it good for them, were they passed around, and were they ever gang raped in a church and did the rapists blame it all on Jesus. Had a lot of success there, although they would recover and try again, probably owing to the fact that they can employ certain types of selective memory, then it would all begin again, same questions, and around and around we would go."

"They also have some very alarming triggers. To call someone a "swinehund" (sic) is the worst possible Nazi insult, it means that the person is only worthy of being killed, and this extends to their DNA pool as well. Amongst themselves, apparently, such an insult would mean total war between them until one side or the other surrendered unconditionally. And that such events are how they form their chain of command, might makes right in every case. That insult really gets to them as well as the very personal details of their own lives of abuse, with which they mind control one another as well as others."

"When that sort of abuse, child rape, or rape, has been present in someone's lives, it is exploited as a weakness. Just mentioning it turns the victims thoughts in on themselves, they suffer some degree of emotional trauma and confusion which, rather than ever having been forgotten, was hidden somewhere in denial. But faced with the fact, they have a very difficult time remaining in denial, and the sudden reemergence of those memories begins to traumatize them all over again [and cause their mind control programming memories to emerge as well]."

 

All of this begins to explain why interrogators were looking at old Nazi death camp reports in an effort to find techniques with which to torture prisoners. Apparently, Nazism begins and ends with abnormal psychosexual psychology, and is every bit the same abnormality as is found with child rapists. Because it's all inherently narcissistic, when the Nazis rise to power they increasingly become brazen about their methods. This, perhaps, because it both allows them to feel justified and eases remaining pangs of guilt, and probably because somewhere in their subconscious minds they want to be stopped, just like other serial murderers.

 

Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld are all mind controlled Manchurian candidates, in my estimation, and should be removed from any and all authority pending a full psychological evaluation. I am quite sure that they will be found to have multiple personality disorder, and to be highly dissociative. The evaluation should most likely be performed by a team of psychologists with expertise in MPD/DID, and have bipartisan oversight.

 

Understand that such multiple personality involves "littles", earlier childhood versions of themselves which can be accessed in such a way that, no matter what it is they are doing or have done, they can maintain the appearance of innocence because these alter personalities do not recognize their own guilt, rather that guilt belongs to still other alter personalities in their alter systems. In this way they can disassociate themselves from their own guilt so as to put on an innocent looking face before an admiring public. 

 

I would be more than willing to lend my expertise with regard to MKULTRA programming to any such investigation.

 

 

 

See what's free at AOL.com.

Treason, Terror, and Tough Times

The Real Reason Everyone Fears America, Including Americans

 

 

Ever since the Neo-Con Nazi henchmen have infiltrated the top levels of our government, people have been asking why congress has been so ineffective, and why our allies have been so submissive. Today we have confirmation from one of those allies for something I've been saying for years.

 

The people with their fingers on the button are insane, and aren't above using nukes to terrorize the world. That appears to have been the predominant fear among insiders ever since the true terrorists demonstrated that they were not above attacking their own country on 9/11.

 

Things have changed, and this administration should remember what happened in the former Soviet Union when one of their leaders had given the order to nuke his own. The rebellion that resulted hunted down the person who gave the order as he tried to flee and killed him and his whole family.

 

Thanks to the British for having the backbone to speak up:

 

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20070618/wl_uk_afp/britainpoliticsmilitaryafghanistanus_070618072937

 

The Mindstorm Chronicles: Chapter Four

The Mindstorm Chronicles:

Chapter Four

A work of fiction? A work of non-fiction? The work of insanity?

You decide.

As far as I knew, all kids had such experiences. It didn't seem to me to be so highly unusual at all, but often made me think about how special kids were that they had imaginary play mates, or could play pretend about anything at all. I thought that, should anyone ever discover anything really unusual or interesting it would have to be a kid because grown ups just didn't think this way. All the same, the telepathic conversations I was having always seemed to be very real to me, in part because people said things that I just didn't know anything about, which although it was depressing and even frightening at times, was also highly educational. Whenever somebody said something about which I knew absolutely nothing, and it was important, I had to excuse myself and spend some hours just learning about that. And, well, there were so many things that I didn't know, that I had to just keep on learning and learning. Even if it did make my head hurt.

 

Telepathy itself had been that way for me. My mother had always said that she was telepathic, but I don't think that she meant it in the same way as these conversations, I found out later. She saw images, and didn't really hear words or have conversations the way that I did, apparently, though I never told her about these meetings I was having with an alien and all the other people. So, for me, telepathy was just a fact of life, even before I began to experience it the way that I was. It certainly didn't seem so unusual. Even if what we talked about did.

  

There was some odd feeling that I would get sometimes, a feeling like someone was watching from far away, and at those times my thoughts began to drift back to the conversations with the alien and the others, which for the most part I was content not to have to think about very much. But there was something just very ominous in the air, something that seemed very important. Now, bear in mind that these memories come back in flashes, and while I could always remember just where I was when these things happened, remembering just when they happened wasn't always as easy. You know, just which conversation came first, although I had a pretty good idea which year it happened.

 

Now, after the first time that I talked to president John Kennedy, I became a huge fan. My brother had told me all about the book "Profiles in Courage", which had too many big words for me to read. I was such a fan of his that I started wearing my hair like his, now that I was really paying attention to how presidents looked and what they did and all. He seemed like such a nice man when we talked the one time, and I was just sure that he was a very good man as well. Years later my Dad painted a portrait of me from an old photo from that time, and so people got to see my president Kennedy haircut for years and years, and I never tired of telling people that's what sort of haircut it was supposed to be.

 

As if all that I'd been through up to this point hadn't been strange enough already, the alien was telling me that something very serious was happening. After he explained that I wasn't in any trouble, always my first concern, you know, I told him that I really didn't much want to have any discussions right then, that I felt like I really didn't know enough to be much help, couldn't understand why these people wanted to talk to me, and was not wanting to be depressed again over the sheer enormity of the world's problems anyway. But wouldn't you know it, he said the one thing to me that made all the difference in the world. He said that the president wished to speak to me. But at that point these things seemed so real to me, and I didn't really feel worthy to speak to a president, but the alien said that it was very serious. Back then the only thing I understood about serious is that you never wanted your parents to get that way, because it meant that you were in trouble.

 

But, well, if he was sure that he wanted to speak to me, well, he was my president and all. He didn't say a whole lot right away, I got the feeling that all of this made him just as uncomfortable as it did me for some strange reason. But then he got right down to matters, and said that our military was going to invade Cuba and he needed some thoughts on what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened before to me, and suddenly I was having images flash through my mind about some big island far away, and a bunch of soldiers waiting in boats. He told me briefly while these images were happening, or rather the images were happening as he told me briefly, that they had expected the people there to rise up against their communist leader and all, which just started me wondering what communism was. It seemed familiar, as if it had come up before, and I wondered how in the world adults managed to ever remember so many things about the world.

 

He waited for some sort of reply, but I was still sort of lost and didn't really know what to say. I heard the alien speaking to him, but I was too lost in my thoughts to hear them. And then after a moment of silence, I had to ask, what did he want to know from me? That's when he told me that he had just received a phone call from Russia, and that they said that they would shoot some of those super bombs at us if we invaded the island.

 

Until that moment, I had no idea that anyone else had those but us. And then the strangest and most frightening thing happened. Suddenly I thought about our home in the suburbs, and then I saw a man standing somewhere else, and a huge orange flash just came and swept him away. That's when I began to say, "Don't do it! Don't do it!" and was just very shaken by what I'd seen. He seemed to want to know more but I couldn't tell him much at all at that point, just that it wasn't good, and I believe I even described what I'd seen. I didn't recognize the man that I saw swept away by the orange light, not until many, many years later when I finally saw a photograph of a man who looked just like him, a photograph of a much younger George Herbert Walker Bush.

 

Anyway, the whole conversation was over nearly as soon as it began. I was torn between going to lay down and rest and not knowing what to do. I suppose that it was the first time that I ever began my lifelong habit of pacing when I was worried. The alien assured me that everything was going to be alright, but up to that moment I'd never had to be really serious in my whole life. Later that night I would think about the word "serious" in a whole new light.

 

I can't remember if it was the same day or the next day, or a few days later, that I decided that I just needed to know a whole lot more about everything. And that I was just going to have to bear down and go through it, and try to remain as unperturbed as possible. I even talked it over with the alien, who just seemed to be still wondering about me, and possibly why I never wondered more about him, or about aliens. He had let me know not to worry about things too much, that he was going to be like some sort of security for me, and we discussed how very difficult this was on me emotionally, and what sorts of things I thought would make me feel better about it all. He was very generous in that regard, and allowed me to carry on quite a spell about such things as grown ups wouldn't have wanted to hear.

  

There was first and foremost on my mind that there were spies in the government. And for a kid my age, and of that time, there were three things in the whole wide world that one would never, ever want to be, because all of them were the worst of very bad things, and would likely get you killed or worse to be those things that all boys my age hated; Spies, traitors and torturers. You know it was one thing when people did honest battles and such, but being any of those things was about as dishonorable as anything anyone could think of, something about which one could only be ashamed. But of course, that wasn't entirely right, either.

 

As I paced the alien began to sort of help me to think about how sometimes it takes a spy to capture another spy or a traitor. That's just the way those things were done. Now, I had never really thought of that. And it's not like the alien was telling me so much as I was just understanding somehow, visuals came to mind with a certain kind of understanding, but not necessarily from the alien himself, either. And that's when I noticed that this was from a different alien altogether.

 

Whereas I would have said the first alien was like a younger man, this other alien seemed to be older. But when I asked him how old he was he said that he was seven years old. Now at this point I spun out on that very thought, thinking surely my imagination did get the better of me and now I'm just going to go plum crazy. He tried to reassure me that aliens are just different and live and think faster than we do. Still, the thought of seven year olds flying spaceships was just more than I could bear. They didn't have names, either, because they were telepathic in a way where they just knew each others faces, which was also more than I could bear. But at least now I felt completely justified. Just as I expected, it wasn't going to do me to much good to be asking questions about these aliens, all along I was afraid that whatever they would tell me, well, that first of all I wouldn't understand it, and secondly, it would probably be more than I could bear. The second alien then began to look upon me with the same sort of perplexed wonder as the first. Or at least it seemed so. So I sort of shook my head and moved on to other business.

 

Now, about these spies in our government, I wanted to know, whose spies were they? And in my minds eye I saw a whole bunch of men in business suits having a good time, government people of some type, I reckoned, and I could see that several of them were spies. More like I just got that impression somehow.

At this point, however, I didn't really feel like asking the alien any more questions, which would lead to still more confusion on my part, so I did something that was up to that point fairly unusual for me. I stopped to think this all over before deciding who I should talk to next. But somewhere along the line I got the distinct impression that these were Nazi spies. I had no idea how such a thing could be, but just the thought of it was pretty scary.

 

So I began to think about what little I knew about such things. First of all, if there were Nazi spies in the government, it was going to be difficult to avoid running into them somewhere along the line, or at least that would be a constant concern. Then I thought about friends, and I remembered from old war movies that the British were our allies and our friends, and it struck me as being a good thing to have some friends outside of our compromised government looking in. Then, for some strange reason, I decided that I should be speaking to British Intelligence. Maybe they could help, I thought.

 

The next thing I knew I saw a middle aged man's face, who was from somewhere in England called Tavistock. English stuff was often spelled funny, often sounded different, and I wanted to know just how it was spelled so that I could remember it. And what do you know, I had it about right, there was no "L" in Tavistock, and it was spelled with one "a" and one "o" not two "a's". I was pleased to have guessed something right after all this time. He told me a little about the Nazi's, and about how they kill children that they use for telepathy, but how Tavistock didn't kill the children that helped them. Right then and there I had another brief panic, thinking that the Nazi telepaths might catch on to all of this and be hunting me down anytime now, but the alien was, just like the other one, very reassuring that they just weren't going to allow such a thing to happen. Now if you believe in the premise that all of this is actually happening in the first place, there seemed to be no reason to doubt the alien about that any more than the rest of it, all of which certainly seemed quite real to me, even if it was all just the strangest thing that a body could imagine. 

 

Now, as if all of this wasn't hard enough to describe or explain, what happened next surprised all of us quite considerably. I just began to carry on and on about all kinds of things, saying that they should do this and that, and that something or other was going to happen, and because of those things I was going to need this and that, as if I really had some idea what I was talking about. Not that I really did, mind you, not at all, just that whatever was coming out of me was all so very interesting, and not a little exiting. In my way of thinking, this seemed like a really wonderful story of which I was becoming a part, and it seemed to me that I had somehow stumbled upon my life's purpose, right then and there. But I had a lot to learn. And being that I didn't want to get into trouble with anybody, I was thinking that I would have to avoid the usual thing where I would be meeting with spies in dark alleys and so forth, and thought that they would just have to teach me in other ways. School wouldn't do for these things, I couldn't wait until High School, I had to start learning right away! And so I recommended the source of most of my education to that point in time, television, radio and the movies. And as I got completely carried away, and carried on and on, I saw in my mind's eye teams of writers taking down notes.

 

The temptation here is to ask myself how and why these things ever happened to me at all, but whenever I thought about that too much I was just sure that I must be going crazy. So I endeavored not to think about it any more than absolutely necessary, which for the moment meant not at all. And I went off exited about the prospect of being a part of something good, something exiting and worthwhile. After pacing around the old dirt driveway for awhile I went inside to rest, but this time it didn't seem depressing at all, just wondrous.

 

The next few weeks had me stopping to think once in awhile about aliens, and about everything else. My mother told me that animals are naturally telepathic, and I sometimes sat by the porch and tried to communicate via telepathy with my dog. On the question of aliens and whether or not he knew about any of this, he just rolled his eyes up, head between his paws, as if to simply say that he did, and they were out there somewhere, and I got the distinct impression that he thought of them as some sorts of birds because they knew how to fly. But his little brown eyebrows on his face betrayed him to have the same sort of wonder about it as did I.

 

I'll never know, I suppose, how my dog managed to meet me at the end of the long dirt road that descended from our home every single time I got off of my school bus. My mother figured that he just knew the sound of school bus number eight, but I didn't know why it didn't just mean that he was telepathic, I guess it could have made sense either way. But every time I got off of that school bus, he came running down that old dirt road kicking up dust behind him all the way, hollering and howling as if to scold me for having been away all day. We would greet each other with a sort of happy dance, playing around as I imitated his howls. "Ahrooo, rooo, rooo! Ahrooo, rooo, rooo!" And then we would hike up the old dirt road to the house and both of us drink up a lot of cool, clear mountain water.

 

After that we would sit and rest for a little while before the inevitable happened. I would begin to look at him and he would look back with an expression that said, "I'll wear you out!" And I would be thinking, "Oh, no you won't!" And pretty soon we'd be wrestling all over the living room and chasing each other 'round the house until we were both winded and sucking up water again.

 

Despite the fact that the mountains of Big Bear had so few people then, all of us up there sort of hillbillies in our own way, my dog Laddie was most often all the company that I ever really needed, and I felt as though I was one of the luckiest kids in the world to have such a friend. After all, he had saved my life twice, for all I knew, and at the risk of his very own.

 

By now I guess you can tell that my dog helped me to not worry too much about all of this crazy stuff, I could just begin to slip in and out between these two worlds, one of which I was sure was very real, the other seemed so. Later in my life, you know, dogs don't live as long as people do, it would be something else, like music, or girls, which would help me put all of these worrisome things completely out of my mind. And...

that's about all I have to say about that.

 

End Chapter Four

 

An American Nobody

An American Nobody 

A Fathers Day Tribute

Hello Everyone,

This father's day I decided to do something very unusual, since I'm away from my own children, and don't really feel like doing much of anything else. It won't be immediately apparent what this article has to do with Father's Day, but we'll get to that later on in the article.

 

For now I want to talk about mind control, about harassment, and about how difficult it is for someone like me because I'm not one of the rich and famous. Like most of you I'm an ordinary American citizen, a nobody, really. Not that my life hasn't been unusual in some ways. Very much so at times, but for the most part, I'm just like everyone else, and that's one of my biggest problems.

 

Being just like everyone else isn't ordinarily much of a problem, it's just ordinary. But it becomes a problem when your mortal enemy is rich and famous. When you are a nobody, and they are a someone. It's a problem because people will ask you how it was that you ever became so special as to have attracted the attention of someone else who is so rich and famous, as if such a thing existed so far out of the realm of possibility as to be impossible. 

 

The rich and famous have vast resources to spend, and a lot of strings to pull, all of which can be used in one way or another to further discredit, harass or intimidate their nobody victims, nobody victims who always start out with the experience that no one is likely to believe them about having someone rich and famous as a mortal enemy.

 

It doesn't really have to make sense that such nobodies have nothing to gain by taking on someone rich and famous, by taking their chances in exposing them, by risking the wrath of popular opinion turned against them for having dared to say boo to a somebody. If it doesn't make sense, then of course it couldn't be that they really do have a problem with a somebody, it must not make sense because such a person must simply be crazy. Because as we all know, somebodies are saints and nobodies can be crazy.

 

Well, alright. You didn't agree that somebodies are all saints, history would tell us otherwise. But then why does wealth and fame automatically put such persons above suspicion whenever they are charged with complaints from nobodies like me, I have to wonder. And how does anyone know that this isn't just a part of being rich and famous which is exploited by somebodies, that they can get away with murder when it comes to nobodies like me.  And precisely because no one will believe them, and because your ordinary person hasn't the means to go up against the rich and powerful, let alone the public support to take on somebody famous. Just doing so may make one a pariah, not only in our society, but within one's own family. Only insanity could explain a family member bringing charges against somebody rich and famous. Why is that? 

 

Bear in mind that such cases place an extraordinary burden of proof on the victim. You have to show motive, some reason that someone of such fame and wealth would take it upon themselves to harm you. But that proceeds from the idea that being rich and famous is a good indication that someone is moral and sane. We don't ask rape victims why they were raped, or serial murder victims why they were murdered, because those answers lie with the perpetrator, not with the victim. And it is no less likely, one might suppose, that the rich and the famous occasionally became so precisely because they are immoral, and/or insane. Al Capone once quipped, "You can get a lot more with a smile and a gun, than with a smile alone."

 

This is all particularly true in the area of mind control. First, because they choose their victims for reasons known to them, not to their victims. Secondly, because mind control is inherently immoral and unjust. Third, I suspect, because mind controllers themselves have perfected rather degenerated forms of  thinking among themselves in order to maintain control of one another. And fourth, because mind control itself began among such degenerates as built Nazi death camps, and so is also inherently pathological, beginning at square one and never actually leaving that square. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Nor can you achieve morality out of any philosophy born in death camps, at least not by the people who owned and operated them.

 

For me to tell you why *I* would think that my life drew the attention of someone rich and famous would be rather counterproductive. First, because I can't be sure why psychopaths do what they do. Secondly, because that reason might be so strange as to strain belief in any common mind. All of this, the perpetrators of mind control know right well, they seek early on to remove the credibility of their victims by driving them half insane, long before they stand a chance of knowing who is doing the driving or why. They sneak up on you, you know. They don't announce to you that you're about to be mind controlled. If they ever do, you're already there when they tell you. That's the conclusion that I came to, anyway.

 

No, I suppose it really wouldn't be well received by the world at large that George Herbert Walker Bush wanted something from me, a nobody, when he could have anything at all just for the asking. Anything, I suppose, but the truly exotic which money couldn't buy. And the only thing that I can think of is my ongoing telepathic discussions with voices who claimed to be aliens. Not that I would have thought it, not that I ever even paid it that much attention, being a nobody. But here again, I can only guess why psychopaths do what they do to nobodies. Who can say for sure?

 

Oh, to be clear, that doesn't mean that I don't have my own ideas about things, but what nobodies can prove is an entirely different matter. Not like I can go out and hire a team of private investigators, researchers and lawyers or anything. No, for that, we nobodies would have to depend on the justice system. But what if that justice system is run by your mortal enemy, by the psychopath himself? Can you possibly imagine a harder row to hoe?  But that's just the case with so many victims, and perhaps especially with victims of mind control.

 

So, I'm going to mostly just skip over my thoughts as to why a psychopath would target nobodies, and go to something that is on my mind this father's day. My life has become so greatly complicated for so long that I often have to place some things of great importance out of mind just to keep up with whatever is going on daily.

 

Today while doing my usual research someone pointed me to an article about the CIA, and as I read it, I came across a bit of trivia which had long been lost amid the myriad of other details which are vast right wing conspiracies. George Herbert Walker Bush was a newly appointed Director of the CIA in 1975, and it was later that year that my sister died from an overdose of alcohol and prescriptionsleeping pills. An event which was apparently precipitated by her college, Antioch West, telling her that contrary to all expectations, she would have to attend another semester before she would have her Master's degree in psychology, a semester she could ill afford. And at the same time her boyfriend up and left her for her best friend. Of course, such things do happen all on their own, or at least one supposes that they may. Then again, the CIA has the sorts of resources, skills, and experience to do people in, and in just such a manner if they wanted to. I know. They've been trying to get me to kill myself for just as long. While they've come very close, obviously they never succeeded.

 

Now, what has this to do with father's day, you might ask. Well, I believe that George Herbert Walker Bush had issues with my father. And with me. But the reasons for that would be speculative, and I don't think as a victim I should have to say how or why a psychopath chooses his victims, I should just be able to say that the matter needs to be investigated thoroughly. While I may not have a whole lot of hard proof about my mind control experience, I do have something else perhaps as valuable, and it took me a long time to acquire it. I have erudition. I can make more sense of mind control issues than anyone that I know or have ever heard of. Nobody ever gave me a degree in mind control, to be sure, but I can demonstrate my understanding of it. Hopefully I have begun to do that here at Freedom of Thought. And since I can demonstrate that I have a much better understanding of my victimization than the mind control victim who testified on the matter to congress in the seventies, the result of which was the banning of MKULTRA, it would be an obvious miscarriage of justice if I am not also allowed to testify before congress.

 

Of course, the thing is, at least what seems obvious to me, is that the Bush empire is synonymous with mind control and with MKULTRA. And as it's power wanes, my chances of catching my sister's murderer have never been better. And while my father passed away in 1980 from lung cancer, this father's day I remember how much influence he had on my life.

 

It wasn't until I was much older that I learned why so much of our family moved from Mississippi to California all at once. Quite simply, my father had witnessed a hate crime, and reported on it at the paper where he worked back in the thirties. He'd been witness to a black man having been dragged down Main Street behind a pickup truck tied to a chain.  There were Klan threats after the article appeared, and one night somebody jumped him with a knife as he was coming out of a phone booth. But my father was an amateur boxer, and though his arms were cut up some, he managed to survive the encounter. Anyway, my father was a good and strong man who taught me many things. And I'd like to think that this enormous challenge of taking on the Bush empire, and Bush himself, who I believe it was that along with the CIA murdered my sister, well, that these times would mean a lot to him.

 

Just what precisely this has to do with father's day is something that I don't know whether or not I can put into words. Perhaps, just that we never really appreciate what we have in us due to our father's love until it's put to the test. And that whenever I was deep in trouble, a good many times, it was often something that he had told me at some point in time that came to mind and made the difference, apart from which I probably never would have survived all of this. And I hope this father's day, people will stop and think deeply about such things, and not wait until they've found themselves sorely tested to know how much a father's love has shaped them.

 

Here's to you, Pop. And all you did for me. For us. And for everyone else when you took your stand for free speech, and a free press, all those years ago.

 

 

No Talking to Press, Congress, Attorneys Say

Attorneys Warned of Retaliation

 

 

A fifth senior Justice Department official resigns in the wake of attorneygate. Attorneys threatened with retaliation for speaking to the press or testifying to congress.

 

Story from The Washington Post:

 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/06/15/AR2007061502206.html?hpid=moreheadlines

 

NASA, CIA, NSA, MKULTRA, the Executive Branch and Nazism

Editorial:

 

NASA, CIA, NSA, MKULTRA, the Executive Branch and Nazism

 

 

When I first began investigating MKULTRA I was surprised to find NASA involved. We knew from unclassified documents that the CIA was deeply involved in MKULTRA, and rather than risk an international meltdown over the vast implications of all of the extremely sordid details, congress simply banned the mind control program after the Church committee's findings in the seventies. Things began to change all the way around, then president Carter made a bold statement; America would no longer participate in political assassinations. NASA's involvement in MKULTRA was scarcely mentioned, if at all.

 

Wernher Von Bruan, who as an officer in the Nazi SS designed and ran the Nazi V2 rocket program of indiscriminate killing of innocent civilians in London during World War II, became the heart and soul of NASA. The "Third Reich", in fact had expended enormous time and effort in finding secret weapons of any kind, and had a huge interest in rocketry. That same Wernher Von Braun became so successful at NASA that Walt Disney had him explaining to the nation all about rocketry on the weekly Sunday night television show which was hugely popular family viewing back in those days of black and white television. MKULTRA began as a Nazi project inside of the death camps of World War II, a product of the torture and deaths of many innocent men, women and especially children. Thousands of former Nazi's were brought into this country under Project Paperclip, many of them worked for Nazi intelligence, and so one may easily see how it would be that these survivors conspired to eventually destroy America from within, and make it their own.

 

NASA was founded by congress in 1958  and replaced the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) which was created by congress in 1915, it essentially placed under one authority all of the previously established aviation and military space organizations, coordinating efforts between all interested parties, including scientists, engineers, universities, and politicians. It would eventually create the legendary SpaceDefense Initiative, the legendary "Star Wars" program about which the American public in the later eighties that it was creating a defensive shield against missiles, and though the program became hugely controversial because of it's potential for abuse, it managed to go forward without informing the public that it intended to deploy mind control weaponry into space which dovetailed nicely with the already banned MKULTRA program. At long last, the Nazis had their ultimate secret weapon, and it would only be a matter of time before they used it to destroy the United States government and supplant it with a government of it's own. They could now play gods.

 

NASA is under the authority of the office of the president, and like the rest of the executive branch receives scarce oversight from congress. And ironically, the same president who first agreed to expand NASA's budget so that America would join in the race for space, ended up being assassinated by a man who is most likely to have been an MKULTRA assassin, leading to one of the most bizarre and longest lasting cover ups in all of history. From at least that time onward, America would never be the same. The president's brother and attorney general, and candidate for the presidency, was likewise shot by a man who doesn't even recall the shooting. Similarly anomalous killings began to occur everywhere, our civil rights leaders, public figures, and celebrities began to end up dead, either as murder victims or under other suspicious circumstances.

 

All of this was bad enough, but at the time that this was all happening, mind control was barely on our radar and was very poorly understood. One can't help but note the cynicism of the government telling us that they had only recently discovered mind control due to it's use in North Korea, when in fact they had to know of MKULTRA ever since the inception of Project Paperclip, which also, most likely, along with other space concerns such as the UFO phenomena, gave rise to the creation of the Central Intelligence Agency, about  which then president Truman said after leaving that it was the one thing that he really regretted about his time in office. 

 

After the Strategic Space Initiative was superfunded, supposedly in an effort to end the cold war with Moskow, the space agency along with it's intelligence counterpart, both under the growing authority of the executivebranch, began to send microwave and bio-electromagnetic mind control weapons into space and became unstoppable, having gained such powers as would make the devil himself to be proud. Suddenly, anyone and everyone was in danger of becoming a victim of mind control, and by such remote means that evidence would be completely lacking in all of these future cases, and their would be no more need for the old fashioned cover ups since the weapons employed were in space, and NASA not only fully in control, but having carefully crafted such a fine image of integrity and honor that it remained, in the minds of most Americans, above suspicion.

 

At this point in time,  only a thorough investigation of NASA will yield any significant results in exposing what has been a very long lived and vast conspiracy against the United States of America and it's citizens, a conspiracy that through both international intelligence assets and space apparatus has even become a global conspiracy with long term designs on the future of our world, and is most likely responsible for any number of plots against other nations and their leaders, friend and foe alike.

 

It has been NASA, in conjunction with the CIA, who is responsible for people resorting to aluminum hats and magnets to relieve the agonizing and torturous symptoms of microwave and bio-electromagnetic weaponry. NASA and the CIA who are responsible for the mysterious chemtrails now becoming known for specific serious illnesses occurring where chemtrails have simply become  part of a new and bizarre skyscape. NASA and the CIA, who have infiltrated the media for purposes of mind control and propaganda, NASA and the CIA responsible for any number of terrorist events, domestic and abroad, and on every scale, employing those same very difficult to trace space based methods. In fact we have every reason to suspect NASA as the smoking gun, but nothing short of a ballistics test, a real investigation into the deepest and darkest recesses of NASA, will tell us precisely the extent of NASA's guilt, or the extent of the global conspiracy made possible by the space, aerial, and intelligence assets under it's command, and only arguably remaining under the control of the office of the president.

 

Somewhere in between NASA and the CIA resides the National Security Agency. So dark were it's beginnings that it was once popularly joked that NSA stood for "No Such Agency". It was only after Watergate that their existence, let alone their activities began to get any notice. The NSA restricts the availability of information coming from the government, from universities, and from the medical fields, including psychiatry. They are also our primary information gatherers. If you believe that all they do is wire taps and e-mail theft and the like, you're not understanding, that their primary assets are also space based and working in conjunction with NASA and the CIA. Knowledge is power, and it is the NSA who decides who gets -and who doesn't- in our everyday world. But it is thanks to the Freedom of Information act that all of this becomes not only much clearer, but can be demonstrated with a wealth of documentation.

 

Whether it was a matter of motive, means or opportunity, the fact is that the bulk of the evidence gives us enormous probable cause to go through all of these agencies belonging to the executive branch with a fine tooth comb. Considering all of the facts in the case, this country would not only be morally negligent not to do so, but at this point in time, it could no longer be held to be a moral government at all should it fail to do so.

 

When the Space Preservation Act was introduced which would have banned exotic weapons, the Neo-Cons placed their bets, ladies and gentlemen, they thought that America would fold. It's time for us to call.

 

My name is Paul J. Norton, and I live in Yreka, California. This article may be reproduced in it's entirety free of charge as a commentarial, for anyone interested, provided that the source of this article is fully disclosed, along with the exact replication of it's intellectual contents. 

 

http://journals.aol.com/pomansings/freedom-of-thought/

The Mindstorm Chronicles: Chapter Three

 

The Mindstorm Chronicles:

Chapter Three

 

A work of fiction? A work of non fiction? The work of insanity?

 

You decide.

 

 

It's hard to say precisely all of the factors that come into play over a lifetime that lead up to how someone thinks. Growing up in the mountains, with the nearest neighbors a couple of miles away, one learned to occupy their time with matters of imagination, more than anything else. So I began to pretend all kinds of things all of the time, building secret little fantasy worlds the way that kids sometimes do.

 

On the long trips back and forth between the mountains and the flatlands, we would be listening to the radio, playing with the -out the window, palm of the hand- aerodynamics as kids do, which led me into pretending that our little bug of a car was surrounded going down the road by some sort of tiny body guard aircraft from one of my childhood fantasies. But sometimes, once in a while, I thought of them as aliens, which wasn't the premise of my fantasy at all, but somehow felt fitting. And somehow reassuring. No big deal, just now and then my mind would wander that way for a few moments, only to begin to make my head hurt for not really knowing much about aliens. Well, or a whole lot else, which made me think about taking school a little more seriously. The prospect of going to school for years and years in order to really know anything at all seemed entirely daunting. Perhaps it was that thought that made me more observant of adults, and not only the things that they knew, but some of the things that they didn't know. Things about which having an education was no guarantee of knowing.

 

The old fox farm on top of the hill where we used to live was a surreal place. Besides the house, we had a barn, attached to which was a room with a potbelly stove and a vault for storing the fox furs. There were empty steel and wire cages outside, quite a few, that extended about a half a block out the back way, and for about a square block the other way. In the middle of the cages and fox runs, there was an enormous pine tree, and way, way, way up there was a tiny tree house that actually looked like a very tiny house with a shingle roof and  a potbelly stove in it. From there, we supposed, a guard used to watch over everything at night. There was a big chopping block next to the room with the vault, which seemed a bit gruesome, but the room was useful for repairing rental toboggans in the winter time, and we would find new uses for the vault. It became our own little bomb shelter when the Cuban missile crisis was going on.

 

The Cuban missile crisis. Oh, God. We practiced duck and cover in school every day, sometimes. Twice a week usually. Well, at any given time everything was just over. That definitely had an impact on how I perceived the world. The world was crazy. One day, it could be, we would just see a bright light and everything would be over in a flash.

 

Then there was that thing that happened before the missile crisis. A bunch of dialog, come to think of it.

 

WWII had ended, the teacher said, when America developed a super bomb of some kind. She didn't go into too much detail about that, understandably, so neither did I. It was just a known fact that we had bigger bombs and that was all that I really knew. When I was talking to some of the voices in my head, and I didn't always ask who they were, I'd become curious about such things and would have to understand that, really, maybe I was just to young to know about such things. But I found out a whole lot more anyway, eventually, owing to explanations about why bomb shelters needed to be a certain way, and the kinds of problems that we might actually be facing. Somehow, crazy just didn't seem to be a strong enough word to describe the world.

 

But even at that time it seemed to me that, in essence, everyone was confused about war. One of the other kids did a display for a school project which had a very graphic battlefield slaying up close on it, something from some old war propaganda, and the teacher was a bit perturbed, and was telling the class how killingwas terrible. She seemed to stop and take inventory of our perplexed little faces before continuing, that it was also sometimes necessary. She looked around a bit more as we all sat silently looking on with tilted heads, then she continued to expand on those thoughts, much to my interest. I learned that not everybody agrees about war, and that at any given time, how the most people felt about a war would make all the difference in whether or not people wanted them, or thought they were necessary.

 

One day while I was just hanging out in the old barn (I always remember just where I was when these things happened), and I began to think about war very seriously, and had what was a really upsetting exchange which I don't really remember all that well. The aliens seemed to be of the firm opinion that all wars were fought for the money. And that disturbed me very deeply, it wasn't something that I would have thought. I couldn't have imagined such a thing in second grade.  So we decided to have a meeting with the military and get right to the bottom of this. It was my idea.

 

Some military people were sort of saying, yeah, but if other people fight wars for money, somebody has to fight against them. The alien not only seemed unconvinced, but told the military people that they had intelligence problems that they weren't facing. The military people went nuts, the alien remained firm. I decided that I needed fresh air, and left the shady barn.

 

Really, at that point I was just tired of having these things happen to me. I was realizing how great it was to just be a kid and not to have to be a grown up yet. But the alien was reassuring, even if the military types were much less so, who I didn't really want to hear anymore and so I didn't, at first. Then I guess we decided to talk to them for a little while longer, and the military men were trying, at least, to be more civil. My position was that, if anybody would know what they were talking about it would be telepathic people, like these aliens, and that they should listen to them. At least listen and then find out what they could. They seemed to understand, even if they weren't exactly happy about any of this. In my minds eye, in a way that I couldn't really describe at all, I saw the military men all seated in a row at some table or something, and I saw one alien who was sort of standing, well more like hovering next to me. You know, like when something isjust really, really clear in your mind. Very real looking. Not like anything I'd ever experienced before.

 

These sorts of events became very depressing sometimes. I think I spent another three whole days being depressed over this one, to some extent or another. But by the end of the third day, I was always thinking about more pleasant things, things like comic books, or music, which was really beginning to capture my imagination because my older brother had just brought a bunch of new albums into the house with his new record player. The alien was still there, and we'd "think talk" about such things as I lay awake in the lower bunk, trying to forget how serious a place the world really must be. And he let me talk to all kinds of people, some of them were music people.

 

After those sorts of days I would begin my usual routine of long hikes with my dog, Laddie. And probably out of sheer boredom I began to ask myself questions about the forest, questions which eventually, even as a kid, had me in a state of wonder about how all these natural processes had combined to bring us such diversity of life itself. It was a wonder to me, for example, that nature never seemed to really waste anything.

Leaves didn't pile up because they became food for trees. To me, that explained more than I could really take in at the moment.  

 

As time went by discussions often continued to get more serious, and I began to meet a whole lot of people telepathically. Though I had already convinced myself that speaking of such things wasn't in my best interest, I also thought it best to think about such things sometimes, but not give it too much importance either. It was all just too upsetting sometimes.  But that didn't stop me from thinking about these things altogether. Eventually I would ask myself about that intelligence problem that the military was having, and the alien was never very far away if I ever wanted to talk about such things. And could put me in touch with anyone, apparently.

 

I don't really know how to describe the alien. In some ways he seemed like a really, really smart kid. In other ways he was very grown up, he wasn't at all afraid of standing up to those military men when they were upset and coming out of their chairs and using words that I never heard before.And insome ways, he seemed to really wonder about me more than I wondered about him.  But I couldn't say why. I guess it was because I was both curious enough to want to know everything, and so unable to bear all of that that I generally avoided talking to him too much because it always led to things for which I was absolutely unprepared.

 

All the same, I was such a curious kid that I marveled at everything. Even small things, like how my dog could snap up a passing yellow jacket and spit him out without getting stung and then he would look curiously at the results. He was a great dog. Twice he saved me from rattlesnakes while we were headed out to hike. And in the very same spot.

 

We were just out the door and around the house when a rattler coiled right in front of me and was making that dreadful sound. I screamed bloody murder and my dog was all over that snake. The snake and the dog lunged back and forth at each other I don't know how many times. Back and forth, back and forth, while I continued to scream. My mother came out of the house and grabbed a shovel and after allowing the snake to strike at the shovel a few times, took off it's head. It happened twice in the same spot because, as we found out later, the snakes had made a nest in the little wooden box stuck in the ground that held some sort of valves for the sewage tank tank outside in our yard, and Lad and I just happened upon them as they were returning to their nest.

 

What a thing, I thought, that the my dog had risked his life for me. And I decided right then and there that I would do the same for him, if ever I had to. I was so relieved that he hadn't been bitten in the exchange, and so deeply respectful of his courage, and love, that our relationship grew considerably. The dog had won my love long before that, but now he also had my really profound appreciation, and my deep, deep respect.

 

My mother grew up on a farm, and she told me all about snakes. About how once when she was a little girl, she was walking in the corn field and stepped on one barefooted! She told me that it was a good thing that she was scared stiff, because she had put her foot down right behind the rattler's head, and had she moved she would have been bitten. She screamed and somebody came out with a shovel, and that's how she knew just what to do. She even knew how to skinthe snakes, and so twice I had the best things to bring toshow and tell. I kept those Diamond Back skins and rattles for years and years inside one of those plastic cases that protect cigarettes.

 

Living in the mountains could sure be boring. But some days were much more interesting than anything that happened in the flatlands, including TV. Like snakes. Or aliens. Or the true nature of dogs.

 

 

 

End Chapter Three

 

Bush Blasts Blogging

George Decides That Bloggers Have Too Much Protection

Interesting article which asks whether or not bloggers have the same protections as other journalists. The president doesn't think so. Maybe blogs make him nervous? Any questions, George, just send them in, I'll try to get to them as soon as I can.

http://news.com.com/Bush+administration+attacks+shield+for+bloggers/2100-1028_3-6191053.html?tag=sas.email

 

Strange E-mail and Surveillance

Strange E-Mail, Illegal Surveillance 

On February 14, 2006, I received a copy of a mysterious e-mail which was forged with my address as if it were sent from this computer and sent to the Department of Justice with the title "Propaganda Crimes" which, if I remember correctly, also had a link to one of my posts. While for some strange reason that particular e-mail didn't turn up on my computer, I did manage to find the response to my heads up to the DOJ:

 

 

Dear Department of Justice,

 

Obviously someone has forged my e-mail and sent you a message. I have not sent any correspondence to the Department of Justice whatsoever. In view of this situation, I would appreciate a copy of the e-mail which was wrongly attributed to me as the source of it's origin.

 

Blessings,

pomansings@aol.com

 

 

 

In a message dated 2/14/2006 10:03:56 AM Pacific Standard Time, ASKDOJ@usdoj.gov writes:

Thank you for contacting the Department of Justice.  This is an automatic acknowledgment that your e-mail was received.  It will be reviewed in the order it was received.

=

 

 

But I never heard anything more about it.

My post that was evidently forwarded to the Department of Justice, about which I saved a copy, would have been the following, which had appeared on UnknownCountry.com shortly before the mysterious e-mail was received:

 

 

Post:

 

Things have changed a whole lot in the last 15-20 years. The government used to have a lot more control on information sources, The NSA censors Universities, the media can be purchased for a price, as we see has happened recently, and access to foreign publications was once quite costly. The Internet made all kinds of information available to everyone. In it's way, it's the epitome of a free press, everyone gets to be heard. But since the government had little control over the net as an important source of global information, it had then to resort to nefarious means, such as online bullying, disinformation, propaganda and even covert ops involving hacking and infecting of computers whose use is somehow deemed objectionable to the Neocon Administration and therefore to be treated as a risk to "national security".

 

It was the only way, short of closing down the Internet, that they could still control this vital source of information. While they couldn't stop the masses from speaking freely, they could confuse everyone with enough propaganda and lies as to prevent a massive outcry about any issue, as it has long been the case concerning UFO phenomena, and now about the Neocons. It's a typically fascist move. The Nazi's knew better than anyone that knowledge is power, and they then sought to have it all for themselves and none left for anyone else. Propaganda is the first step. After that they look to find excuses to say that the public is just too irresponsible to have a free press, usually citing concerns over pornography, or, I believe, much as they intend to say that a few cartoons were the reason for the recent spate of violence, ignoring that theses people have a lot of much more important axes to grind. It's really a subversive attack on free media, "Look! See, censorship IS needed!". The question I have is who paid the Danes to run these inflammatory cartoons. Probably the same economic hitmen who go around telling world leaders they can be rich, or they can be dead, take your pick. Then they just spin the situation for effect. That's what people don't get, unlimited money can buy anything, and sociopaths can use anything to manipulate public opinion. Money is no object to those with a limitless supply. It's sort of a worldwide protection racket, they create problems and then offer their own answers to the problems they've created.

 

(End post)

 

 

One can only imagine what they were trying to tell me by forging my e-mail.

 

Surveillance abuses are only starting to come to light, as we can see from the following article that states that the FBI alone may have broken the law over 1,000 times:

 

http://rawstory.com/news/2007/Post_Internal_audit_shows_FBI_may_0614.html

 

See what's free at AOL.com.

NASA Under Investigation for Obstruction of Justice

NASA attorney shreds evidence, space agency under investigation for obstruction of justice :

 

Story:

 

 

http://rawstory.com/news/2007/Congressional_panel_calls_for_investigation_of_0614.html

The Mindstorm Chronicles: Chapter Two

 

The Mindstorm Chronicles:

Chapter Two

 

A work of fiction? A work of nonfiction? The work of insanity?

 

You decide.

 

 

Being like any other childhood memories, these things came back in bit and pieces. And really, bits and pieces is how it all happened from the beginning. Just here and there, these voices that eventually led to longer and longer discussions. Always at my own discretion, but just as often about worrisome things that would very much hold your interest as well your attention. But there was always the self imposed restriction about telling anyone about all of this. How could anyone have explained any of this, let alone a seven year old child in 1962.

 

It occurred to me sometimes that I could find myself having slipped off some deep end somewhere if I entertained these things too much. But it was also stimulating. Even as a kid. I was learning a lot about the world, and as if to be kind, the voices would begin to speak of more pleasant and wonderful things, would ask me my opinions about things. The conversations would usually begin with something important, something really important like when they began to talk about spies in the US government. And while all of that was deeply disturbing to a 2nd grader, the voices would slowly lead my thoughts towards more pleasant, even wonderful things. We even talked about comic books. Until comic books, I was a big fan of Grimm's Fairy Tales, and Aesop's Fables. When you live in an isolated cabin in the mountains without TV and very little radio, you find yourself reading, and thinking a lot.

 

Glimpses, really. Sometimes these meetings I had with the voices returned more as if I'd remembered them by topic than in some sequential order. And sometimes they all seemed to come rushing back in bits and pieces, a blend of the highly disturbing and thedownright wonderful. I suppose it helped me to keep my balance about things. But as often as not, it was like one of those web pages where things were linked by some other order of appearance than when they first appeared.

 

One night, riding in the back of our families Volkswagen, laying down in the back seat on what seemed the long, long drive back to the suburbs, back to Lil' Miss, listening to the radio, I was thinking about Army men. You know what a thing little boys have about Army men, and about real ones. And a war somewhere that I knew absolutely nothing about. And I wanted to speak to an Army man who was actually in the war there, and of course, I wanted to speak to someone I could trust, a good Army man. And one of the best. The next thin I knew I was talking, apparently, to a soldier in Vietnam, a Green Beret. Which to me was most interesting because at that age, most all of my knowledge about Military affairs was about WWII, and had mostly come from old movies. I didn't really know anything about the Green Beret.

 

Basically I had been asking myself a very simple question. If war wasn't good, why did people fight wars? And here was an opportunity on this long boring drive to ask somebody who was actually fighting in a war. We talked a little bit first about why we were in the war, and he seemed very curious about, and a little disturbed by this telepathic voice exchange. At some point in the conversation he told me that sometimes the military gets sold out for money, the people who handled all the spy stuff were people who couldn't be trusted all of the time. He told me frankly, that some people thought that the war where he was fighting was against a communist threat. But that other people said it was all about the money. He didn't seem to know what to think. But he was still concerned about "spooks".

 

Now, here I was in the back of the car, and just starting to wonder, so I asked who he was, he told me his name and his rank, and then I began to wonder to myself just how it was that I was speaking to this particular man. Before I could say anything he said "They said that I should talk to you." Now, to be clear, after what had happened before, I began to realize how serious all of this really was, and how far out of my understanding the whole world was. But here was an honest soldier that needed help with a problem. And, well, it only made sense that the problem was too big for a kid, but it seemed like same people who could arrange these sorts of meetings via telepathy could help. And I suppose they volunteered, because the next thing I told the Army man in that was in Vietnam was "The Martians can help you."

 

It was at this point that an exited voice began to quickly explain that they weren't actually form Mars, they were from some place with some very scientific sounding name... I didn't understand that, it was so much information so fast, and then a picture of stars came into my mind. But I didn't know how anyone could remember such things, how stars looked, so many and all, and I didn't understand why it would be important anyway. I was feeling tired from the trip, I guess, and I just said, "Look. I don't know about all the planets. I know about Mars. So I'll call you Martians. It just means that you're from a different planet than this one, ok?" The voice just went quiet and it was as if I sensed his wonder at this moment. It was as if all three of us went silent, thinking about the prospects of such things, and just what might all this mean.

 

I didn't know it at the time at all, but I would be talking to the soldier again sometimes throughout the years to come, and little did I know just how much impact that he would have on my life when I would meet him face to face about twenty years later. But at that moment I was feeling positively overwhelmed again. And considering how very real this kind of thing was beginning to seem, I began to feel not a little bit unsafe, remembering that this was a world in which sometimes the Army killed children. Not to mention spies, who I heard were the worst.

 

So I let my mind sort of drift into the music on the radio, and wished that I felt safe about all of this. The ... not-exactly- a -Martian voice reassured me that all would be well, and we discussed reassurances for a little while, and I thought that I was probably going to need more support this way than the average kid "if they were going to talk about this junk."  So listening to the music, and drifting off, I heard a song that always made me feel safer, and wished that I could hear it whenever I was worried and things were going to be alright. And I drifted off to sleep while listening to the song that would always seem to come on the radio when I began to worry about staying in the city for a little while. In my mind I was thinking of the Army man and the grass huts while listening to "In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight... In the village, the peaceful village, the lion sleeps tonight... ". And I felt as if everything was going to be ok for me and the Army man on the other side of the world, there someplace whose name I could barely remember. And I took some comfort in the idea that that the Green Beret were, in my child's eyes at least, the best. And they would be on the side of us kids.

 

The return to Lil' Miss was always wonderful after the isolation of the mountain cabin that once was a fox farm. In our place in the suburbs we lived on a kind of nursery, where there was an enormous variety of plants and trees. There were the beautiful cycads, tree ferns, tupidanthus and sheflerras, azaleas, philodendrons, podocarpis, every type of exotic ornamental I guess, at one time or another. And there were fruit trees, berries, grapes, everything grew like crazy there in the soft downey soil that had formerly belonged to the orange groves. And it helped enormously that I had my tricolor collie with me, dog and boy quickly reclaimed their other stomping grounds. And nobody seemed to mind much except the cat. And even he seemed to have a sense of humor about it, as if he had been bored as well, and had actually missed picking on the dog, who he dared swat from behind at every opportunity.

 

Most of the time I didn't worry about the voices, I was just too busy being a kid.

 

 

End Chapter Two

Torture and Mind Control in Yreka

Further Developments from the Electronic Gulag

Yreka, California

 

 

Over the last month and a half I began to experiment with defensive apparatus out of sheer necessity. I was being tortured all of the time, except when they would sometimes allow me to sleep for two to three hours, ala Abu Gharib.

 

What is becoming apparent to me is that they employ a wide range of weaponry as well as strategy and tactics, ostensibly in order to keep people guessing and to compensate for any sorts of limitations that they might run into.

 

It's been an ongoing struggle for me to see my mother, who has cancer,  twice a week, because they know that this means more to me than most anything else in the world and believe, apparently, that if they can deny me my visits that I will become their Nazi mind slave, but I will have none of it, even though I do loose this valuable time with my own mother.

 

With each new break through comes some other test of my metal. Yesterday, I canceled my cable television because I had found great relief by removing the cable wire from the television and pulling the plug from the wall which I had done the day before. That allowed me to have two good nights sleep.

 

But now they have moved to more local access with which to keep me up at night. Last night I began to experience sensations which are part of a body language code that MKULTRA teaches you first when they're pretending to make you a media analyst. But once you know that code, that body language, they can then use it to send their torturous messages to you. I suppose that it also has subliminal implications for those who don't know the code.

 

Now I am routinely experiencing burning, stinging, crawling and itching sensations of the skin, a condition known to be related to chemtrails. Last night as I attempted to sleep, knowing that I had somewhere to be the next day, they began to give me these sensations in order to sleep deprive me. At first I didn't know why this was working so well for them while I was sleeping in mydefensive gear, aluminum lined hat with magnets and magnet earplugs (the helmet is a little uncomfortable for sleep), but then I believe that I found the answer when I walked outside for fresh air. Overhead there was a very slow flying plane, apparently it was a SOLO plane. So that in the absence of any great deal of electromagnetic activity in my home, they must now beam that energy in more directly.

 

It's become my operating theory that the space based weapons only direct and manipulate, and employ the electromagnetic waves in our homes, and our cable television is a huge culprit in emitting those electromagnetic waves. In their absence, they apparently go to other means. You won't even have to go to the Project SOLO link provided in the blog in order to understand if you've seen their military apparatus on the History Channel, devices capable of causing fully grown soldiers to leap out of the way of the incoming beam. But they're only showing you the weak stuff.

 

These SOLO planes are quite often found accompanying the chemtrail planes in this hostile bid to take over the minds of Americans and folks overseas, and to torture people remotely for non compliance. As was pointed out in an article posted on this blog yesterday, it's becoming all too apparent that the chemtrails are making our air and our surroundings more accommodating for such heinous crimes against humanity.

 

If you're of the set that enjoys snickering at people who wear aluminum hats and worry about chemtrails, or mind control, you'd better think again. This illegal radiation and chemical bombardment is far from safe, these things are known to produce real diseases, and real people die from them, and it could be you or someone that you love next.

 

There needs to be a public outcry concerning this outrage, I hope that you will tell everyone that you know, and take time to write your congressperson. Once again, if you should decide to write congress, you are invited to attach with your own letter, a copy of my open letter to Rep. Dennis Kucinich available from the archives. My letter is going to Kucinich because of hisinterest and his position in these exotic weapons. He authored The Space Preservation Act, a bill that would have banned the use of these secret weapons entirely had it passed. Today I read, but have not confirmed, that similar measures, or perhaps the same measures, are now being debated in congress. They need to hear from the victims of these weapons, their constituents.

 

In my open letter I am offering to go to congress and answer questions about my twenty years of active investigation into MKULTRA, bio-electromagnetic weapons, and whatever else that I have learned regarding this conspiracy to mind control America and every other nation. This is not a joke. And it's nothing that I take lightly, there have been cases where such witnesses never made it to congress because they ended up dead before they could get there. 

 

My name is Paul J. Norton, and I live in Yreka, California.  

 

For further information about Aerial mind control:

 

http://www.raven1.net/commsolo.htm

 

To print out or send a copy of my open letter to congress via e-mail:

 

http://journals.aol.com/pomansings/freedom-of-thought/entries/2007/06/08/an-open-letter-to-congress/439

 

Yreka Chemtrails and Bio-Electromagnetic Weapons

Chemtrails Linked to Bio-Electromagnetic Weapons, Says Researcher

 

Provided below is a link to an article by controversial researcher David Icke about the chemtrail phenomena, complete with some very interesting photos of how these chemtrails become a kind of smog.

 

My own issues have primarily revolved around mind control and electromagnetic weapons employed for that purpose. It wasn't until coming to Yreka, California, two years ago that I had any experience with chemtrails, although I had heard some early reports over the Internet about a decade ago.

 

According to Icke's research, the chemtrails are also a part of mind control, and are used to enhance electromagnetic fields for the purpose of mass mind controlling populations. There have been studies about what materials that are being used in the chemtrails, materials found in areas of frequent chemtrail activity. According to Ickes, the chemtrail smog is responsible for some very serious diseases occurring among the public.

 

The article by Icke is available at the link provided below:

 

http://www.theblackvault.com/modules.php?name=Forums&file=viewtopic&t=63315

 

 

More Chemtrails Over Yreka

Chemtrail Update:

 

There haven't been any chemtrails that I've noticed since I wrote the article "Chemtrails over Yreka", that is, not until this morning of  Tuesday, June 12th. These new chemtrails have appeared on both sides of the outskirts of town, probably so as to avoid being noticed. There aren't any directly overhead at the time of this writing.

 

This should be reported to congress. If anyone wishes to attach my open letter to congressman Kucinich along with their own complaint demanding investigations into secret weapons being used against our civilian population, please feel free to do so. It's under the article "An Open Letter to Congress". My experiences with the chemtrails occurring in Yreka over the last two years will be part of my discussion with congress if and when I am invited to speak to them. 

 

You may have to click on "View Archives" at the top of the journal to find the letter to congressman Kucinich. Kucinich was chosen because he authored a bill that would have outlawed, among other things, chemtrails as exotic weapons.

 

Late breaking: 11:23 AM Pacific

 

As if to prove some lame point, there are now planes flying directly overhead. The chemtrails have spread out to the point where the once clear blue sky is now overcast with a with a milky substance.