Thoughts on Svali

A lot of readers suggested to me that I check out the work of Svali. I read some of her writings and watched what I'm guessing is the main video interview out there. One thing that really struck me was her emphasis on how much these secret groups mirror both the mafia and the Vatican.

It occurred to me as she spoke of this (and as I was looking at the art work that was used as an icon throughout the video) that this is all mafia at all levels. The difference is that the ground level guys are more like what you see in a movie like The Godfather whereas the more esoteric higher ups are the ones using art and culture and religious symbolism.

If I think of it this way then I tend to characterize the Illuminati as a very old school mafia while the cosa nostra represents the new school. The cosa nostra gets in and out on a job and doesn't care about collateral damage or who takes the fall. The Illuminati seem more like people concerned about chipping a nail and so they hold a ritual first.  

Based on my childhood experiences, however, it was frequently the case that the lower level guys were the ones who professed to be practicing satanism - not out of belief but out of convenience. They knew the rituals and masks provided cover and memory confusion.

Meanwhile, the people I thought of as higher ups were the ones presenting themselves as devout Christians while twisting Christianity in a satanic way by claiming that I was the one God needed to punish and that he had chosen violent pedophiles to do it. 

So, while the damage was real and very much structured the way others report in their own cases, I've always held to the notion that the end times aspect of this is some crap straight out of the mind of a science fiction writer. The "end of the world" and my "role in it" was always used against me as justification for what they were doing to me. 

This is something I wish Svali had spoken about in a bit more detail. I also wish she'd shared a bit more detail about the 6 Councils and how that ties to people such as myself who end up getting used as cash cows on top of everything else that's going on. 

The group made a lot off of me. I worked with them in art, science and defense/aerospace. Now that I know these councils exist and how they are structured, I think it would be a good guess that one or both of my handlers was at least a regional chair. It would explain how they had the ability to bring in people from NASA, IBM, Northrup Grumman and the military, as well as countless producers and future superstars in the entertainment industry. 

When such people showed up at my house there was always going to be some trauma/cover and a programming aspect, but never the ritual aspect. Those two things seemed intentionally split and that worked in my favor in terms of dismissing the ritual part more easily, not letting it hold power over my imagination. 

That was a mistake on their part. Bad for them, but very good for me. It gave me a more global way to compartmentalize and bring the weird experiences closer to the ground. 

One Day At a Time

Grief is a strange thing, especially when you don't know what to believe. I've lost another friend. I have memories of her and the friend who found her body coming to me years ago to describe the circumstances of her mysterious death. I've also had other people who never met her tell me "Don't believe that your handler can bring her back to life like she's done with others. This friend really is dead."

It's the same as with anyone else I've lost under suspicious circumstances. Their absence is grief-worthy anyways. I still have to live as if they're dead and process the emotions of those around me who believe it, including those of the part of me that isn't sure.

The past week was really rough for the first few days. More pieces of our clandestine conversation came back. I remember her telling me she had a morbid sense of humor and that I should tell myself "I'm glad that beotch is dead!" and take myself to the gym for a workout. I started to feel better Thursday through Saturday...well, actually I guess I started to go downhill again on Saturday and today, Sunday, I'm a crying mess again.

Jen would probably tell me that I'm upset about a lot more than her "passing" and she'd be right. She's like a catalyst and also a symbol of the extremely unbelievable amount of hell and BS that we've all been put through. I am trying to drag myself to an undefined finish line and don't know if I'm going to make it. 

Another level of strangeness...before I was conscious again of color programming as described by people like Svali, Jen had talked to me about it. She said I needed to turn "blue" back to what it's supposed to represent: sadness. Blue has always had a lot of meanings to me as it does to every other English speaker. It's the color of the sky. It's the color of water in the Caribbean as you fly in for an exciting vacation. In the West, it's typically the gendered color associated with the masculine.

In the world of my handlers, however, blue was for pedophiles who prevent people like me from transitioning, living, thriving, generally having a life. It's the color of their arrogance and ice cold attitudes towards normal human needs. If they were here now it would be the color their lips and face would be turning as I squeezed the last of their haggard old lives out of them, Darth Vader style.

Other survivors have said "You can't be this mad or want to lash out at them, it just hurts you."  True enough until you are left resource-less and put through a reprogramming designed to target you and twist every trauma memory you ever thought you'd processed into a new source of pain. It's not just the past it's how all of it is being used to impact my present, and it's not all in my mind. I've experienced actual physical attacks on real property. I live daily around the silence of people who should be speaking up. I'm forced to go along as if anything wrong with me must come from some other source. 

I'm not a fan of asking for help from anyone required to pretend that my issues are a character flaw and not the result of their participation in harming me and their cowardice and refusal to contact this really great group of folks called the FBI. I've survived this long by telling myself maybe it's more complicated that I'm allowed to know. I went to the FBI myself a few years ago as well as local police. Giving them the names of actual federal agents involved wasn't enough for them. To make matters worse, the gatekeeper at the Dallas FBI was a man I recognized from my past. I first met him when I was 16 and told I'd have to "get past Snoopy over here first". 

So, what do I do? Nothing. I grieve. And pray I make it to the finish line.

September 11

Today marks 16 years since that awful day. Even within 5 years of the towers being hit, though, it already felt like an eternity had passed. The stress of the second Gulf War along with the growing divide in American politics was too much. It was exhausting. 

I don't talk much about about 9/11 anymore, however, you can check my feature post (I think..) to see my comments on what I've known about it since around 1980 to 81 or so. This was very much a black operation funded by our own CIA using their cut of the money from drug and sex trafficking. The organization as a whole has gone rogue and agents are assisting the agendas of countries that would like to see the U.S. removed as the dominant military and economic power of the world. 

My memories as a survivor related to 9/11..

When I was 7 I was asked to help encrypt a note that, purportedly, had turn instructions for the planes hitting the WTC. I was sat down in front of a computer with a piece of paper that had the encryption keys written down. My job was to figure out how to use the shape of the letters to indicate the turns. In front of me was some sort of program that had an X-Y graph, but instead of being labeled as such, it had N, S, E, W, except it had been turned upside down and the letter 'N' changed to a 'Z'. 

I remember the screen had a rapid refresh rate and flickered and danced as the system drew letters around the axis. At the top of the screen were two flags, though it was hard for me to tell from the 8 bit graphics of the time. I asked my mother about it. She said "It stands for what's known as a false flag operation. That's what these people are doing. They think the American flag is a false flag and would like to see it taken down and replaced by something else."

I recall at the time that a couple of extended relatives I didn't know well were there. I believe one of my great uncles took off with a copy of the information. He and my other great uncle had served in the Air Force. The one who took off with the note had served in Korea. Interesting to note that I've often been told I'm being used as an agent of North Korea despite having interactions with Chinese and Russian intelligence throughout my life as well.

The other memory of significance comes from the age of 14. This was a prelude to a very bad sexual assault. In this case, the Venezuelan mafia/Gambino Capo Juan D'Garza was present with a gun and camera to film the abuse. Before it started, I was hit between the eyes with voltage from a modified stun gun. It was a bad as a baseball bat to the head. I rolled across the bed, dizzy, trying to recover. 

Juan decided to quote from U2's "A Sort of Homecoming" (one of my favorite songs at the time): "The city walls are all come down. The dust's a smokescreen all around", he said. And then he told me "And now you know how those people in New York are gonna feel on that day. A bomb is going off in their world 9/11. But it's about to go off on you right now."

As much as I'd like to see the truth come out I'm doubtful if it will ever happen. When I was first triggered to wake up, I encountered some type of insert online. It was an article claiming that the Missouri FBI had found a note on a dead man that they couldn't decipher. I was shocked to see what looked exactly like the encrypted note from 1982. I tried contacting them to tell them what I knew but never got anywhere with it. 

I guess the only thing to do is be thankful that the time has passed and we haven't seen anything like it again.

The Soldier Experience

I haven't said much about super soldier programming to date because there is still a lot of memory work to do. That aspect of my experience was kept well hidden from me as a layer within the usual Beta programming. 

But my first soldier programming experience is tied to what I called the "master control" event that happened in the family garage, November. 30, 1979. I was 5 years old. As preparations were being made for a serious electroshock/bdsm scenario, I was told who my "General" was and that she was building an army of obedient soldiers and that I was one of them. 

I won't go into the gruesome details of being electrically crucified but I do want to share a picture of the device I was hung from. I don't know what the technical term for it is, maybe someone else does?  The black, plastic tear-drop shaped thing is what was used with part of the center piece removed.

It seemed that more than one intelligence agency was eyeing me as a potential soldier. Then again most of my American handlers were doing double duty as agents of communist countries, so perhaps it was that all along. I'm not sure. 

What I do know is that soldier comments were tossed off quite frequently during staged (as well as real) episodes of thefts and murders. At the age of 10 I was told I was one of the 42 kids being tracked. I went through the cage experience many speak of and was told I was the one no one would remember. 

By 16 that part of the programming was amplified. I was warned by my handlers that I needed to intentionally fail Bush Srs ice water bath test. He had wanted to see if my body could tolerate flying in cold conditions. I hemmed and hawed and threw a fit the whole 45 minutes in the bath. They decided to keep me at the level I was and instead have me go through the other soldiers training at least once so that I would know what they'd been through.

I was forced to learn how to parachute and then actually parachute into West Africa (transported to equatorial guinea, then parachuted into Gabon) where I ran the obstacle course at the French Jungle Warfare Training School. I was taken to Nelson AFB as well as Los Alamos. I did witness something that looked like a 'gray' but couldn't say whether it was real or not. It was in a room behind bullet proof glass. For all I know it could've been a Disney robot. They do have a lot of help from Hollywood in these matters.

The main thing with that memory is that it seemed like a con of mixing special effects (the alien thing) with what they'd already told me they were going to do: test a directed energy weapon. 
I was standing with my mom and two handlers. As I walked up to the window I was told "Just because you share DNA with him doesn't mean he's your friend."   I believe at that point they ran some sort of tape through a voice-to-skull device to simulate telepathy.  After that, one of my handlers triggered the hidden device, which they later told me was a microwave based energy weapon. It caused a severe feeling of shock and heat in my head and I had to run from it's line of site (by climbing up a wooden deck) to escape it.

The ultimate experience was being trained by NASA to go into space and then actually going into space. I didn't believe it was going to be real when I walked up to the Soyuz capsule with my handler, Oxana, and astronaut Chris Hadfield. But it turned out to be horrifyingly real. I was there to assist him in collecting evidence of weather manipulation. 

I was also taken on a space walk with Oxana. She took a picture of me as we were leaving the air lock and told me she wanted me to remember I'd really been there. While she worked on an outside panel of the ISS, she told me that I'd see a "UFO" soon and said "Now, how do I know that. Am I in contact with them or are we generating these things ourselves."  

Turns out there is a holodeck on the ISS that can create realistic looking holograms of just about anything. I feel like I shouldn't be sharing this part but I feel I have to in case this 'weapon' is misused during the coming war with North Korea, China, Russia and Syria. This has been in the planning for decades and it's all about oil.

I will say this...when it is finally 'Chinese Military Time' (another phrase I've heard all my life), I hope that these countries have a healthy fear of the United States. We have more technology than I've described here so far and I won't go into more detail than that but suffice it to say that your missiles will never reach us and we do not need to launch ours to wipe you out. 

Sprituality and The Cycle of Life

Now all the fields are made of gold
the animals are lowing
All this light is a wave
Who knows where it's going?
He said follow me
I will follow you
-J.A. Unpublished song

I've been struggling a bit as I try to reclaim a stronger sense of spirituality.  Looking back on life it seems that Christianity has been twisted and weaponized. Worse, the very fabric of life has been weaponized.

As a child I loved the routine promises of each changing season. Early spring, around Easter time, was wonderful for a surprise snow storm. April and May bring the fireflies who dance among the trees in an ancient and mysterious pattern.  I realize I'm in hell but know God as I chase them. June gives way to June Bugs. July is a visual feast on the 4th of July and as the July and August heat approached I was always between the sprinklers eating fruit flavored icees and yearning for a late night to watch meteor showers and other space weather phenomena. 

The first part of Fall is usually similar to Spring in Texas. Balmy nights in the 70's and 80's with a nice breeze. Except late Summer and Fall brings the drone of the remaining cicadas singing in the trees.  That's how it is here at the moment. I saw the most beautiful sunset earlier but couldn't get into a position to photograph it in time since I went walking my dog without my cellphone. 

I find comfort in weather and nature. Flowers, trees, plants, bugs, the cycle of life. All of the visual and auditory stimulation lets me know I'm alive in a place of wondrous potential. 

What saddens me now is that even these things seem to have been weaponized. Seasons don't flow as they used to and I'm only 42 years old. So, in these past 4 decades something has changed. The signaling of nature is off time and off balance. The extreme weather we have now is still unlike what I remember from childhood when we might have had a blistering summer or a surprisingly frigid winter for our part of the country. 

There were no fireflies here this year nor last and the June bugs haven't haunted my door since I lived in Austin. Something is definitely off. I know it with the certainty of my native American ancestors whose blood still runs through me. 

I yearn for the environmental predictability of the past, and this is just how my mind works, but I think of the music that was out at the time when fireflies were still shining for little children and meteor showers were still visible even in urban skies. I can't help but liken it to the fragility of Morrissey's vocals on "This Charming Man". Swing on, Gladioli, swing on.

 

Deterioration Programs

In the world of spies as well as the mob, those who know too much are frequently driven mad or killed off by proxy through what's known as a deterioration program. This type of program is directly tied in to targeting. The targeting doesn't even have to occur in the present (though it often does) because what survivors go through is enough to make us our own worst enemies. The ravages of PTSD include a difficult to break cycle of financial crises, failed relationships and addiction.

There was a good article online a few years back that went into the different categories of deterioration program but I can't seem to find it now. So, I'm going to describe this from what I can remember and from what I've personally experienced. 

Spin Programs
A spin program is a set of pre-primed triggers which induce anxiety in one's system of alters. Some describe the sensation as having racing thoughts or obsessive-compulsive symptoms. If your fragments become very chatty and repetitive it is likely that you are going through a spin. 

Flood Programs
Flood programs are designed to cause a person's system to literally flood them with trauma memory fragments. It's usually difficult to stop when the survivor is already going through targeting and may not have the resources to do anything other than experience the memory recovery process. There's a very Pavlovian aspect to this program in that at least one or more alters perceives a reward in continuing to dredge up memories. It may be an anxiety that a particular memory must be recovered in order to find one's way out of the program. Without proper social and psychological support, however, the process usually furthers deterioration. 

Personally, I have experienced both spinning and flooding in a way linked to deeper program archetypes known as Alice in Wonderland and Wizard of Oz. I'll describe those now.

To understand Alice in Wonderland programming you have to make a pun: "It's all ice in wonder land".  Ice represents anything that is frozen. So, you can imagine when the trauma is affecting the fight, flight or freeze response of the body that a freeze response is being likened here to ice. The question handlers often ask during deprogramming (or even reprogramming) is "Does the anxiety you feel have any basis in knowledge of an upcoming attack against you or am I merely triggering old body memories and emotions from past trauma?"

The evil part of this is that it's not always just ice, but in order to figure that out, you have to flood.

The Wizard of Oz programming seems to have a lot more to do with the personal relationship one has with the handler. In my case, the constant threat was always that deterioration leads to homelessness and ultimately death. The yellow brick road is not a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for my troubles but the urine soaked sidewalk outside the homeless shelter. Because I am LGBT and on the autism spectrum (a frequent target of her hatred) she would often say "It's raining B.O. and I expect rum."

Although I've endured quite a bit of deterioration over my lifetime due to the ongoing traumas that lasted through my 30's, I have also had the love and support of friends and family keeping my head above water. Some are not so lucky. I think the most important thing any of us can do in the situation is constantly strive to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and focus on what's positive. If you allow them to drag you down through negativity they surely will.