A little perspective…
Patriots are dying to defend this great country and the FREEDOM she provides.
Children are being kidnapped, tortured, raped, and sacrificed in the name of PURE EVIL.
Stay the course.
We are FIGHTING a deeply entrenched enemy.
The assignment was handed to me by the DCI Gates, the DCI for Bush, Sr. as President. He wanted me to go to Bakersfield, California, about a 3 hour drive from where I lived and train a gang of kids how to kill.
To be specific, Gates at a meeting told a group of us, senior CIA people, about the new initiative — the plan to phase out the “down-line” kids after 2 years instead of cutting them loose. He explained that this was necessary because the kids were too unruly and uppity after two years to obey the CIA officer.
However, cutting them loose meant that a good 20% of them ended up working for the opposition or for themselves. They thus became competition and cut into the Cabal’s profits. I pointed out that the 2-year limit was arbitrary and it was unfair to waste the kids. In fact, about 40% continued to be good producers and obedient. So even if one ascribed to the idea that the unruly should be killed, which I did not, this 2-year policy was blatantly unjust. And the 60% were unruly criminals only because the CIA had made them that way starting from kids they had selected as well-behaved and intelligent.
But Gates refused to change the policy, which was set by the Cabal on the recommendation of an independent think tank on how to maximize Cabal profits. So even though 3 times in this meeting of about 15 people, I object to this program for various moral reasons I got nowhere.
I recommended that the CIA at least study how to assess these kids as to which were worth retaining with an eye to their moving up into the CIA later. It was a stalling maneuver on my part to try to delay the execution order. Gates would not consider it. He was going to obey this execution order without delay. The kids were to do the executions of each other.
It reminded me of the purge when I was 9, when only 3 of over a thousand of us survived the purge. I wanted to cry. I stared out the window of the 7th floor at the tops of the trees in the distance while Gates kept on talking. He complained that I was ignoring him. I wasn’t ignoring him. I was thinking about what it would take for me to throw him through the glass pane to his death.
After I figured out how I could do it, I thought about whether it would actually stop the kids from being executed by the Cabal. When, sadly, I saw by looking at the future that it would not, I gave up the plan.
At that moment, Gates turned to me and told me that I was to be one of his bodyguards that night. That was not an unusual assignment — I often did some bodyguard work for DCIs at night — usually while in their beds. Fortunately, Gates was not requiring me to do it from his bed. He just wanted me with him that night so he could get me to play a Russian Chess master. I mention that because as I was in the middle of playing Gufeld (sp) and winning, it occurred to me that if I could beat a competent chess master using my remote viewing skills I should be able to figure out how to outwit Gates and prevent the execution order from going forward the next week.
The next day, instead of throwing Gates out of a window of the 7th floor, I threw his chess set out the window. I was accused of littering. I used the opportunity to get out of the rest of the meeting, the second part on implementing the execution order.
As I picked up the chess pieces, I was crying and imaging them to be those children. I put them in the box and then feeling rather irrationally that I had just accidentally put them in prison, I took them out and lined them up on the sidewalk as if to start a chess game. A high-ranking analyst, the equivalent of the number 2 man in the dept. happened by and we started playing a game of chess on the sidewalk.
Part way through as he was losing he said, “You seem upset. This isn’t like you. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I burst into tears and then explained the execution order. He listened patiently and then he said, “Oh, I think that I could hold that up for at least a good 6 months.” He was as good as his word. He managed to initiate “crucial” studies of the cost-benefit ratio of the plan.
Unfortunately, even his own analysts concluded that it was more cost effective to kill them all after 2 years than to have the case officers assess them as to which should not be terminated. The logic of that went something like, “If the officers have to decide which to save, they will want to save their favorites. And having decided to save the kids that they personally are screwing in their beds, they will be tempted to save some others as well. Since any one of them talking could destroy the revenue stream of the Agency, they none should be excluded from this necessary measure.” That appalled me.
The only reason that the CIA could think of for saving a person was to go on screwing them in bed. I thought about that relative to my own position in the CIA. As useful as my remote viewing skills were, it was true that I, as a slave, probably would not have survived had I not regularly been in the beds of the DCIs.
I did go to Bakersfield and meet with the gang of largely 13 year olds. I did not teach them how to kill well. I taught them how to die well. I was quite honest with them. I explained to them that the CIA wanted them dead after two years on the job and intended to get them to kill their buddies.
There was only one gang in Bakersfield to speak of and I had been sent to that city because the CIA was not sure how to get a single gang to kill itself. They assumed that I would figure out how to split it in two in a divide and conquer strategy.
When I finished explaining this to these normally loud and restless youths, the recreation hall was dead silent. One of them asked me what I recommended they do.
They could see for themselves that it was easy to split them into warring fractions and get them to fight other. I told them that I recommended that they learn to die protecting each other.
“Against the whole CIA?” one girl asked anxiously.
“Why not?” I asked. “It doesn’t matter how many people you have gunning for you if you can have the satisfaction of dying to protect a friend.”
They understood that. These teenagers that had been running drugs and pimping for the CIA, understood that they could get personal satisfaction from helping a friend.
So I taught them how to die for each other. How to put their bodies in front of another while others aimed a gun at them or swung two by fours at them.
We practiced it a couple of hours together. That was all the time I had with them.
The execution order came down about 8 months later. The CIA sent in another person into Bakersfield to divide and conquer them. He tried and then wrote a report saying that he didn’t know what I had done, but the kids had such solidarity with each other that nothing he did to divide them worked.
None of those kids died. The CIA could not get them to kill each other and by the grace of God, the police refused to arrest them. I heard later that as a group they voted to go straight and stop pimping for the CIA.
No doubt the CIA recruited other kids through mind control measures. It was only a small victory against evil but it was a victory none-the-less.
I managed to report this intervention on my part as an important research study on non-violent resistance and since the CIA had some interest in learning about the methods that could be used against them, they accepted that explanation. It was because of good skills that I managed to survive.
Not long after the execution order went into effect, there was backlash against it from the case officers in the field. Some quit.
Some refused to carry it out and some simply carried it out so ineffectively that is was like not carrying it out at all. In some cases warring gangs figured out what was going on and created truces to stop it.
But mostly, the gangs fought each other and children in the US died like they did in third world countries of the US policies of men who care for Profits, Not People (see Chomsky’s book of that title.) Children died alone of gunshot wounds in back alleys afraid to go to the hospital for fear of arrest, or worse — the torture they had suffered at the hands of the mind controllers.
Children got pregnant and had babies while they themselves were 11, 12, and 13 because the CIA had in effect forced their brothers to prostitute them to stay alive. And a whole safety of culture, of believing that a child could walk to the corner store safely, died under the CIA’s villainy.
Corrupt politicians and agencies led to violence on the street and disruption of family life. American went from a society where one could leave one’s house unlock to one in which it was not safe to let your children out of one’s sight. And it happened in a single generation from the start of the CIA in 1947 until now.
Cry, my beloved country, for what has been done to you in the name of national security.
Cry, for the innocent children who were tortured and forced into crimes against their will and their sanity.
Cry for the children stolen off the street and sold as sex slaves and human sacrifices.
Have men no souls anymore that they rape, torture and corrupt the children that instead they are sworn to protect?
A PARTIAL HISTORY OF MY EDUCATION IN THE SEX-SLAVE BUSINESS AT THE CIA
I haven’t yet explained how I know all this about how the CIA handles its sex slave trade except to say that I was a sex slave myself at high level within the CIA.
But my specific knowledge of it came about because of assignments I was given at the CIA.
The first assignment that I had relative to this area was when I was still a teenager myself. Shortly after my sixteenth birthday I ran away from home and went to live with a neighbor. Helms was furious at me – mainly because I hadn’t told him that I was going to do it and for two days the CIA went wild looking for me. They were afraid that I had been picked up by the KGB.
Helms gave me the assignment to investigate what happened to children that ran away from home and have in on his desk in one week. It didn’t give me much time.
I investigated the issue in a variety of ways, from using the CIA’s library to remote viewing as that was my specialty inside the CIA and my reason d’etre in that location.
First off, I found that it was not running away that was the problem, it was the sharks in the water that tried to take advantage of one later. Since the major shark in the water was the CIA and I had already been mauled by that one, running away did little to increase my risk.
I said so in my report to Helms, saying, perhaps somewhat inadvisably given my enslaved condition that “since the CIA is the major reason why runaways end up in sexual slavery, my primary fault is that I did not run away from the CIA instead of running away merely from my abusive step-father.”
In point of fact, I called the CIA on Monday after running away on Sunday, but my supervisor was out sick and my phone message did not get to Helms.
My report was four pages long and Helms, not being satisfied that I was sufficiently repentent, assigned me to write 100 pages on the subject in a month, over the Christmas holidays.
Meanwhile I went into Czechoslavia to find resistance fighters freezing in the forests as partisans after the fall of the Plague Spring and lead them into Hungaria. There were not many remote viewers at the time who could find people and breaks in the East-West border. So here I was trying to lead East Blockers to safety while viewing the enslavement of US children by the CIA in every spare moment of my time.
Talk about why I was a multiple! It was really hard to square the reality of what happened to run-away children in the US with the rhetoric that the US was a free and democratic country.
It was particularly poignant for me because I was leading these Czech resistance fighters to supposed freedom while taking them straight to the CIA which had sexually and brutally regularly tortured me since I was three. If they had known that, they never would have come with me.
When I got back to the CIA with the over 200 East Bloc Resistance Fighters that I had rescued, Helms was overjoyed with my performance. I asked to be excused from writing the report but he refused.
So I spent the next two days, typing furiously onto paper whatever came into my mind, pretty much like now. Out poured a history of American runaway children and their abuse at the hands of scoundrels and the CIA as soon as it was formed.
Helms read it and cried, so his wife told me. But he didn’t change the CIA’s policies. Once near his death, I visited him and asked him why. He said to me, about two weeks before he died in a moment of uncharacteristic honesty, “I was afraid of what the perverts would do to me if I got in the way of their orgastic celebrations.”
They were killing children in rituals. They still are. And the heads of the CIA are all cowards that prefer to allow American children be raped and tortured under them then be honorable men and protect them. They do not even lift a pen to abolish the CIA’s own torture of American children.
Gates, the DCI under Bush, Sr. once said to me, “Someone will torture children so why shouldn’t we make a profit at it?”
One could equally well say, someone will murder so we should sell weapons to make a profit from it. We already know that that is precisely what the CIA does. It doesn’t make it moral.
The next time I was assigned to investigate the CIA’s sex slave business was when I was about 24 in about 1977. The war in Nam was over. Helms was gone. Colby was gone. But Bush Sr. was not. He was DCI. He asked me to plug up a leak in the sex slave revenues in the South.
There was a CIA run brothel in New Orleans. It was losing money. No one could figue out how it could be doing that — it was doing a rip roaring business. Bush asked me to view it and figure out what was wrong.
He handed me a report on the number of prostitutes and their wages per hour and also on the auctioning of sex slaves and how much they sold for on the block. It included the cost of wherehousing them and transporting them. It was all laid out in black and white. There was only one problem – the figures did not make sense. The housing and food costs were much too high for the number of slaves, etc.
It turned out that the CIA official running that “safe house” was grossly under reporting the number of sex slaves sold on the block in order to pocket the money. He was on the average reporting only about one in four sex slaves that came through his hands. It turned out to be a chronic problem at the CIA.
Men acting illegally for the CIA, often acted illegally for themselves as well. The CIA would set a goal of “laundering” a certain number of run-aways and “surplus” children into cash, and end up enslaving four times that number in order to accomplish that goal.
The goal was sometimes stated by Gates and Bush, Sr. as a population control measure in which as long as the population of Hispanics or blacks was increasing meant that the goal was not being acheived. It was not clear to me that having sex with slaves was a realistic population control measure.
I guess if one intended to kill the person as part of having sex with them then it could be seen as a population control measure.
That is the standard Reverse Christian ritual.
As a result of the report I wrote up for the CIA on that Safe House brothel, the director of it was replaced. I had hoped that the whole operation would be shut down.
The next year I received a very embarassing award as the person at the CIA who had most improved efficiency at a CIA station. I had never even been to that New Orleans station, and it was in the US which officially made it illegal. I fought back tears as I accepted the award.
It was a cruel joke, since I myself was a sex slave of Bush, Sr. People said that I had increased the number of CIA sex slaves in New Orleans by fourfold. That was not true. I instituted a administrative bookkeeping control mechanism by which all the sex slaves were put on the books.
After that I had a reputation as someone who could make CIA stations shape up. It was a dubious distinction at best. Still under the Bush CIA Directorateship, I was asked, this time by the Dep. Director of Ops, to look at another CIA station that was losing money unreasonably. This one was in Guatemala.
Much money was flowing into it from the CIA, and in spite of a boom Central American drug trade in which the CIA was the major overseer, this station was piling up debts. The cause of that quickly became apparent to me as I viewed the situation from the office of the DDO.
The Head of the Guatamalean station’s right hand man was stealing cash by the bushel fulls. He was a Guatemalan general who was as cruel as he was crafty and the station head was too afraid of him to call him on his misdeed. Firing him did not work — he stayed without pay and continued stealing.
In frustration, the DCI, Bush ordered him “neutralized.” The Guatemalan General learned of the hit order and shot the head of station instead. He was not killed but badly injured and had to be hospitalized. It was at this point that I was called into this mess to try to make the station work again – to try to make it financially successful.
I decided that the way to do that was to harness the energy of the general for good. People at the CIA thought I was crazy. But since my plan was easy to implement and cost almost nothing by intelligence world standards it was put in place.
The plan called for replacing the general’s mistress with another woman to be a good influence on him. It was almost an oxymoron to find a prostitute who would be a good influence on him, except that I had seen that he had already had one mistress that had been a good influence on him. I had the CIA pay her to get back together with him. It was a goodly sum of money, in the range of $100,000, whereas before she had been sleeping with him for about 200 a night as a high class call girl.
Everyone was happy and the wounded head of station resumed his post and the situation worked and the station went back to making money.
The next awards ceremony I received a similarly embarassing award. This time the award was for paying the most for a call girl. I had never met the woman. I merely had the ability to see what was wrong at a distance and recommend how to fix it.
People said what I did bordered on the miraculous. It more clearly bordered on the immoral.
I only mention this episode because as I viewed the problems of the station I saw how many sex workers they used and a great deal about the sex slave trade in an individual overseas CIA station.