Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The Time Of No Time Evermore


       The true seeker of knowledge strives for truth, and is not content with common opinion, but soars with undimmed and unwearied passion until he grasps the essential nature of things.              Plato  490 B.C.

       And thus I clothe my naked villany/ with old odd ends stolen forth from holy writ/ And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.   William Shakespeare,  Richard III,  Act I,  Scene 3

      Rape, murder/ It’s just a kiss away…            Gimme Shelter,  Jagger/Richards

       There are so many vectors of attack that the inquisitive investigator can launch when this particular time of year rolls around, so many connections to make, so many roads to choose.  One could start with the infamous Mothman sightings, which were in full swing in Point Pleasant, West Virginia during this season in 1966. 

       There are the notoriously strange, and deadly, encounters with flying craft and lights in 1977, starting in October, and sending the fishermen and citizens of Colares, Brazil at the mouth of the Amazon, fleeing into the night for their lives.  The Brazilian military even investigated, taking reams of both film and photographic evidence, the best of which was subsequently appropriated by a large American, spooked-up “conglomerate” according to Jacques Vallee in his important book Confrontations.  Evidence obviously, which has never seen the light of day, and likely never will.  Below are some from Operation Prato, that got left behind.

       Also descending at Christmastime was whatever happened in 1980 over three nights in Rendlesham Forest, at the American military base at RAF Bentwaters.  Involving no less than dozens of U.S. military and security officers, this case remains serious and highly mysterious in the extreme to this day, eventually even pulling the likes of the ominous National Security Agency into its vortex.  One of the first security officers on the scene the first night of multiple sightings of non-ballistic aeroforms and lights, both on the ground and in the sky, and also witness again the very next one, John Burroughs, recently appeared before a Congressional panel in a desperate plea for the release of his medical records from that time period.  They have been blocked to such an extent behind military secrecy and NSA screens that even the Veterans Administration and Senator John McCain, both intervening on his behalf, have been disallowed access.  It seems Burroughs is currently experiencing congestive heart failure at the end of a long road of numerous health problems all stemming from whatever he was exposed to on those nights in 1980 – the heart failure itself being diagnosed as originating from proximity to an “unknown type of radiation.”  Security officer Larry Warren was there also and was the one individual responsible for whistleblowing all of this back in 1983, first in Omni magazine, then finally in a book co-authored with the excellent investigative journalist Peter Robbins, Left At East Gate.  This case involves some serious side effects; including the altering of time and space and possibly what we even perceive as reality itself, and is far too enormous in scope to tackle in this posting currently, but it will be undertaken soon, because it is that important, and its connections fragment into every dark corner we’re investigating. Below is a ground photo taken of the lights of the craft, as well as an artist’s interpretation from eyewitness testimony.

       Case in point from Peter Robbins: “There’s no way I can describe what’s in the air there.  This place is loaded.  In my research of peripheral stuff I found out, not to my great happiness, because there was more than enough to write about without going off on tangential issues, that the East Anglia area of Suffolk, in the southern UK, is by many scholarly accounts the cradle of early Anglo-Saxon witchcraft, and not that these people listen to heavy metal music, but there is an awful lot of dark stuff that goes on, and has historically for hundreds of years in this area. This merely adds to the confusion, the mystification, and a lot of the creepy mystical stuff that you can use to keep yourself absolutely in pea soup rather than find any clarity…I was fascinated by one of the accounts that Larry gave me that when you become a Security police officer, as he was, with an anti-terrorist specialty on this base, one of the most secure bases with the most secure areas in our entire NATO facility, that part of their training to do perimeter patrols and the like was that they were instructed if they saw figures in areas, some of them even highly restricted areas, where a normal person would be questioned, called, and if necessary dealt with in a rather shocking and violent way – that if you saw people in black robes with candles doing ceremonies and dancing, keep your distance, don’t question them, don’t call them onto the carpet as it were, just keep back…that this was actually part of the training.” 

      Connecting occult fragments and fingerprints brings us to where we’ll be looking this month, because all of the above, for all its importance, is only the map drawn on vapor, bringing with it a certain tricksterish misdirection.  A misdirection premeditated and planned by what lurks behind all of this that we’ve been attempting to glimpse out of the corners of our eyes.  Very few have ever stared into its face, seen the void, and emerged on the other side to warn us.  Fewer still are taken seriously and not hung out to dry on the almighty mainstream altars of ‘it-couldn’t-happen-here’ or ‘you’re nuts.’

       In the frigid cold of December 26, 1996, Detective Linda Arndt, to her horror, made a discovery.  She knelt and glimpsed, fleetingly, the outline of the undiscovered country.  It remains hidden to most throughout their lives because even when confronted with it, most choose to live in denial. Such is the monumental nature of the discovery, and the scope of monstrosity that climbs unbidden into the psyche.  They refuse to listen to their gut, their instincts.  One certain murder case in Colorado still grips the public like none since Jack the Ripper it is said.

       Wrapped as it was in Christmas finery (a disguise), Linda Arndt nonetheless felt the true origins, the unearthing of the pre-Christian and the pagan, when it literally looked her in the eye.  She had been the only officer on scene for more than 5 hours at the house at 755 15th Street in Boulder, when she knelt down by the small, frail body of 6-year-old JonBenet Ramsey that early afternoon.  In so doing, she found herself nose-to-nose with JonBenet’s father, John Ramsey, who had just carried the body up from the basement.  In the only public interview she’s ever given, with ABC’s Elizabeth Vargas in 1999, Arndt, tellingly, had this to say:

       At 8:10 a.m. she is greeted at the door by John Ramsey.

       EV: How did he strike you?

       LA: Cordial.

EV: Upset?

LA: Cordial.

EV: Distraught?

LA: Cordial.

EV: Did it strike you at all that this was unusual behavior for someone whose child was just kidnapped?

LA: People respond to trauma in different ways, so if someone has a response that’s different from mine, I’ll just note it.


(Making note of all those curious things throughout the morning: Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey remained apart, in separate rooms, throughout the day.  John Ramsey took time out to read his mail.

       10:00 a.m. comes:  the writer of the ransom note’s deadline.)

LA: 10:00 comes and goes and there’s no acknowledgement from anyone in the house that the deadline has come and gone.

EV: Nobody said ‘ it’s 10 o’clock and the kidnappers haven’t called?’

LA: Nobody said that.

EV: Was that something else you took note of?

LA: Absolutely.


(By 10:30 Arndt was the only officer in the house, with John and Patsy, their pastor, and 4 family “friends.”  As they waited for news, the tension was mounting.  Arndt called for backup repeatedly, but none arrived.  She was always told ‘everybody’s in a meeting.  I got your message.’

       1:01 p.m.  Although it’s already been searched thoroughly twice, to break the tension Arndt asks Ramsey and family friend Fleet White to search the house again, to look for any out-of-place clues, giving specific instructions not to touch anything.  Ramsey makes a beeline for the basement, Fleet White screams, and for Arndt, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place.)

LA: I see John Ramsey carrying JonBenet up the last 3 steps.  From the basement.  And, uh, my mind exploded.  And everything that I’d noted that morning, that stuck out, instantly made sense.  I knew JonBenet was clearly dead, and she’s been dead for awhile.

       I ordered him to put JonBenet down.  I knelt next to her.  I leaned down.  To her face.  And John leaned down opposite me, and uh, his face was just inches from mine, and we had a non-verbal exchange that I will never forget.  And he asked if she was dead.  And I said yes, she’s dead.  And I told him to go back into the room and to dial 9-1-1.  And as we looked at each other, I remember, and I wore a shoulder holster, tucking my gun right next to me (mimics bringing her arm flush against her ribcage), and consciously counting ‘I’ve got 18 bullets.’

EV: Why did you do that?

LA: Because I didn’t know if we’d all be alive when people showed up.  Everything made sense in that instant.  And uh, I knew what happened.

EV: Do you think your fears were well founded?

LA: You BET I do.  There’s no doubt in my mind.

EV: Never wavered to this day?

LA: Never wavered.

EV: You were afraid because you thought the killer was still in the house.

LA: I knew it. Absolutely.


1:10 p.m. She moves the body from the hallway to the living room.  Ramsey asks if he can cover the body, at the same time placing a blanket over her.  The pastor has them hold hands and pray as the body lay at their feet under the Christmas tree.

LA: She had trauma to her vagina.

EV: What kind of trauma?

LA: Trauma consistent with injuries you would see in sexual assault cases.

EV: Recently?
LA: The best way you could say it would be what was seen was not a first time injury.


The coroner would say the findings were “inconclusive,” but 3 medical experts consulted from Boulder PD said they were consistent with prior repeated sexual abuse.  Arndt knows the killer’s name, but has no doubt that justice will never be done.

EV: Do you think this person will ever be indicted, charged, or convicted?

LA: No.

       Reading between the lines of this most chilling of interviews from a veteran that was right there is more than illustrative.  It gets to the very heart of what we seem to be bumping up against in all of this, time and again.  And if we extrapolate just the barest amount, it could possibly lead us down other corridors even darker, as we try to get to the center, the meaning, of what’s been preying on us, where those connections lead, and whether the predator class, the Black Nobility, is involved.  Because if we are ever to overturn this, we have to first know the enemy.  The first step here is absorbing some long disregarded facts surrounding the Ramsey case.  You’ll have to hold fast to some long cherished notions of the traditional family as we ride even deeper into what can only be called a true Twilight Zone made manifest, the suppressed facts surrounding the Ramsey “family.”

       We can start with the fact that whatever was going on was likely genetic, generational, and lending itself to satanic ritual abuse.  One clue is that after his mother’s death in the mid-1960s, John Ramsey’s father married his wife’s mother, Irene Pasch.  This made her both John’s grandmother and mother-in-law until a 1978 divorce.  One of the primary reasons that the Monarch mind control programming was so named was because of the Monarch butterfly.  It learns where it was born and passes this knowledge on to its offspring via genetics from generation to generation.  This was the first key form of life that tipped scientists off to the fact that knowledge itself can be passed along genetically, and remains a vital clue in the present day as to why the black nobility historically place such vital importance on the ritual of intermarriage.  According to Burke’s Peerage, all 44 U.S. presidents have carried the European royal bloodline into office.  Thirty-four of those are genetic descendents from just one person.  All of the Bushes, Obama, Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh, and John Kerry can trace themselves back to none other than Vlad the Impaler, the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula.  The more you know…

       The Ramsey’s first publicized press conference took place on May 1, 1997.  Curiously, it is the date known as Beltane on the occult calendar, when the Pleiades star cluster rises just before sunrise on the horizon.  Many at the time wondered why the Ramseys had waited so long to appear before the public.  Perhaps they were waiting for just this exact time.  Beltane, like Samhain, is a time of wiccan or druidic “no time,” when the veils between the worlds are at their thinnest, and many otherworldly occurrences transpire.

       John Ramsey’s daughter from his first marriage, Elizabeth, 22, had uncovered multiple, vivid memories of Satanic ritual abuse after a failed suicide attempt (during the ensuing therapy sessions) in which her father played a major role in the rituals.  Within several months of going public with them (talking to close friends at Delta airlines where she was a flight attendant, as well as other family) she was dead – killed in a suspicious car accident in Chicago, January 8, 1992.  This accident, which occurred on an on-ramp to interstate 55, and had she and her boyfriend colliding head-on with a truck, has never been fully resolved to investigators’ satisfaction.

       JonBenet was taken to her pediatrician exactly 33 times in the time period less than 3 years before her death.  The ostensible reason was for yeast infections.  Starting from before she was 4 and lasting up until she’s 6, a little girl is taken to a pediatrician 33 times for gynecological exams.  Think about that.  The pediatrician, by the way, saw nothing out of the ordinary in this rate of examination.  Remember that at the autopsy upon her death, the coroner found her vaginal opening was twice the size of a normal 6-year-old’s, as well as evidence of repeated sexual trauma.  This pediatrician was at the house the morning JonBenet was “missing,” and was one of the first people the Ramseys called over.

       Cathy O’Brien, a survivor of generational ritual abuse and mind control, and often called “a JonBenet that lived,” authored a book called Tranceformation Of America, detailing persons, places, and names, many of the higher political echelons nationwide, encountered in her ongoing abuse.  Prior to the death of JonBenet, O’Brien stated that her father was friend to a man named John Ramsey, and that this man had gained his wealth by child pornography, and selling his children into the MKUltra programs.  Tranceformation was first printed in September 1995, 15 months before the death of JonBenet Ramsey.  A manifest taken into evidence of a ferry from Charlevoix to Beaver Island, Michigan, shows John Ramsey and Cathy O’Brien’s father on the same ferry ride.  The Ramseys maintained a vacation household in Charlevoix.  Beaver Island was once a Mormon enclave, and is today controlled by Jesuits.  Supposedly not only a religious retreat; various operations of governmental mind control are rumored to take place there.  Both Ramsey’s father and O’Brien’s father were highly decorated military contractors.

       It’s also interesting to note that one of the items taken into evidence after the murder, from John Ramsey’s home office, was a videotape about how to use your stun gun, and titled, bizarrely, How To Create A Mind Control Slave Using A Stun Gun.  However, no stun gun was found in the home, and Ramsey gave two differing stories about why he had such a video and no stun gun.  JonBenet’s body, however, was found with what were later determined to be stun gun markings.  MSNBC  on August 27, 2006 again reported the fact that stun gun marks were found on JonBenet’s back and broadcast photos of those 2-pronged marks.  MSNBC quoted TASER corporation’s admission that these marks indicated use of its product.

      The entire West Virginia Paugh family, Patsy’s family, were members of Masonic fellowships.  Patsy’s Mom, Nedra, was a member of the Eastern Star. Patsy Ramsey’s father, Don Paugh, was an engineer for Union Carbide, those fine folks who brought us corporate murder in Bhopal, and whose former mining camp in Guyana provided just the right spot for a little Utopian community run by Jim Jones, on the run from San Francisco.  After a series of business reversals, Patsy asked her dad to help out her husband’s struggling company, many going so far as to say Ramsey was going broke and Don bailed him out.  In 1991 Ramsey would sell Access Graphics to Lockheed Martin, and continue on as CEO, hitting the jackpot. Contracts were being signed, and deals were being done.  The Ramsey Boulder enclave reeked of Masonic symbolism, especially the floors, not to mention how they frequently presented JonBenet.  The black and white checkerboard has long been associated with Masonic mysteries and hidden knowledge. 

       Jane Stobie, a former Access Graphics manager, remembers of the Paugh house in Boulder where they’d relocated, being a matter of great pride to Nedra.  One investigator described their living room as “the shrine room,” bedecked with prize-winning trophies, ribbons and photos of their pageant winning daughters, Pam, Polly, and Patsy.  Stobie: “They were so meshed up in each other, and it was my gut instinct that told me something wasn’t right there.  They were always going on and on about the size of Burke’s (JonBenet’s brother) penis.  This was so, so bizarre.  Nedra was always saying ‘we love spending the money that John Ramsey makes.’”  Is this sounding like Rosemary’s Baby to you yet?

       John Ramsey also happened to reside in Atlanta when a string of over 30 child murders happened in the black community there from 1979 to 1981.  A sequence of murders that one George H.W. Bush then Vice President, took great interest in.  Bush “took an active role in the investigation,” repeatedly visiting Atlanta to demand that “some action be taken.”  Curiously, most of the victims were murdered by asphyxiation while being sexually assaulted.  They had spent enough time with their captors to be fed, and almost all victims were “redressed” after death in a change of clothes.  All of this follows to the letter exactly what happened to JonBenet.  More linkages of concern are the fact that Access Graphics had offices in the Philippines, Amsterdam, Holland and Denver, and did business with the William Morris Agency.  (In early 1996 Denver PD was investigating a child-porn-protection ring linked to and run by the William Morris Agency, who had also elicited a contract with the Ramseys for the “services” of the young JonBenet.)  Also little known is the fact that Access Graphics had service contracts directly with what is known as the Iran/Contra operation, and had major bank accounts parked at the noted laundry Silverado Savings and Loan, whose director was Neil Bush, W’s brother.  Ramsey himself was also on a list of witnesses never subpoenaed by Iran/Contra prosecutor Lawrence Walsh.

       There are also connecting threads running down the years from the Ramsey ritual even to Columbine.  The holiday season of 1996 was a long series of parties, including an early surprise 40th birthday celebration for Patsy, attended by all her friends, at the infamous Brown Palace Hotel in Denver, long said to be one of the most haunted places in America.  And before Wayne Nelson Harris was a decorated Air Force pilot, he was a local boy.  Englewood High School, Class of ’66.  Wayne’s late father Walter worked as a valet at the Brown Palace Hotel.  Wayne Harris was the father of Eric Harris, who along with Dylan Klebold and many mysterious “others” according to some 75 eyewitnesses, perpetrated the Columbine massacre.  Perhaps the Brown Palace Hotel should’ve stood in for the Overlook in The Shining?  (One final eerie, paradigm-shaking “coincidence” had Eric Harris in his diary fantasizing about hijacking a jet and crashing it into the World Trade Towers.  Lying beyond the scope of this article, but perhaps Eric had merely overheard something he shouldn’t have during his time at Plattsburg, NY’s spooked-to-the-gills Air Force Base where his dad was stationed before moving to Littleton, Colorado.)  It also must be mentioned that Wayne Harris worked for Air Force military contractor firm Flight safety Services near Littleton, which has multiple million dollar contracts with the Air Force to train personnel, and provide flight simulation technology.

       So this gets very interesting when you note that John Bennett Ramsey of Boulder owns Access Graphics, a software division of defense contractor Lockheed Martin, while a 40 minute drive away in Centennial, Colorado, shooter Eric’s father Wayne Harris works for a defense contractor which provides simulation software to the Air Force and is a contractor which works closely with Lockheed Martin in developing its own flight simulation tech.

       So the fathers of both JonBenet Ramsey and Eric Harris were military officers and software designers, and both linked directly to Lockheed Martin.  The fact that the entire town of Littleton is a military air force town created and nurtured by Lockheed Martin possibly means that Columbine High School was created by the same Littleton/Lockheed pairing that John Ramsey worked for.  Access Graphics, according to multiple inside source leaks, had huge amounts of child porn downloaded onto all of its computers.

       Does this mean that rumors of a child-sex blackmail ring to keep loyalty among the upper echelons of the political/military/intelligence establishment are true?  Was JonBenet a part of this?  Could the Columbine massacre have been a preemptive strike on an emerging satanic ritual abuse scandal deeply involving Lockheed Martin and children like JonBenet?  Also remember Arapahoe county sheriff Pat Sullivan was accused of sexually molesting both Harris and Klebold in custody prior to Columbine, and had been accused of being a pedophile.  This is a strange brew that links pedophile rings, flight simulation tech (long rumored to be involved in 9/11), lengthy plans for the 9/11 op itself, military mind control, and ritual abuse of children by a military/pedo cabal.  One big ball of confusion with tentacles that may reach beyond the chthonic state of Colorado and into places like the McMartin daycare scandal, Franklin, the Presidio and West Point daycare scandals, and even to the recent Penn State child abuse scandal (ring?) and the Sandy Hook massacre, with its numerous unanswered questions and occult and Luciferian overtones, a manufactured horror again parked deep in the month of December.

       One final entry in the dark underpinnings of the Ramsey story is perhaps the most telling, and it concerns the mysterious appearance of “The Witness.”  Early in the year 2000, famed Boulder attorney Lee Hill brought forward a 37-year-old California woman.  Her story was that she had been victimized since early childhood, by a subculture, including members of her own family, that used children for sex.  One of the men who participated in the abuse was a friend of the Ramseys.  Hill, a former San Diego county deputy district attorney and former special assistant U.S. attorney experienced in investigative work said “she is among the most credible witnesses I have ever interviewed.”  Hill represented the woman in her decision to give information to authorities.  She described years of ritual abuse in California homes at the hands of adults who stayed at holiday and other parties after other guests has left for the evening.  Then, she said, another “party” would begin, one of sexual abuse of children for the gratification of a select group of adults. This fits perfectly with what was disclosed regarding said “afterparties” regarding the Franklin scandal, many taking place on Embassy Row in D.C.  In talking to the detectives, the woman drew parallels between the sexual techniques used at these rituals and the physical evidence of garroting found on JonBenet’s body.  She believed JonBenet was killed when an asphyxiation technique used to stimulate an orgasmic response during a ritual abuse “party” went too far.  She knew firsthand of these techniques because they had been done to her repeatedly.  The more the woman talked the more disturbed Hill became, especially when finding that the woman’s therapist could verify that The Witness had been telling this story for 10 years before the JonBenet murder rocked the headlines. 

       The Witness told police that when girls did not perform as expected they were struck on the head.  This was because the hair hid the wound.  A big night for such parties was Christmas night, she said.  Over the years, she related, many parties were held then because a large number of cars around a house wouldn’t draw suspicion in the neighborhood and the children have a full week to heal from their wounds before returning to school.  Most tellingly, she said she knew the Ramseys through the Fleet White family.  The godfather to her mother is Fleet White, Sr., 86, of California.  Fleet White Jr. and John Ramsey were best friends.  White Jr. was with Ramsey when JonBenet’s body was found and had crusaded for DA Alex Hunter’s ouster for refusing to prosecute the Ramseys.  This subculture was a family tradition, The Witness continued, saying that her own mother had told her that, as a child, she had been similarly used by one of the men whom she allowed to rape her daughter.  As far as evidence goes there are the letters and photographs, even a name in her baby book that proves she and her family have a long connection – dating back to the 1930s – with the family of men she says sexually abused her, including the father and son who were family friends of the Ramseys.

       During these depositions, which took place in a format of the witness and therapist traveling between California and Boulder on multiple occasions, the witness claimed her family had learned of her involvement and begun to abuse and torture her again, all the time warning her to keep her mouth shut.  At one point the witness and therapist fled California for Boulder, hoping for the haven of protective custody with both Hill and the Boulder PD.  Much to Hill’s consternation, Alex Hunter and the department alerted the witness’s California “family” to her whereabouts after they had filed a missing persons report, which they’d done to try and locate her.  The police in California passed all of the info back to the Witness’s family, the very people she didn’t want to know where she was or what she was doing.  Livid, Hill told the Witness what had happened, in front of the detectives, who said they were just following standard procedure.  The Witness turned pale.  She said she was now concerned over the safety of her niece, whom she suspected was suffering the same type of abuse at the hands of the “family.”  She was further worried about her own personal safety, as well as the disposition of the case, since now the family would know to destroy or hide evidence.  The man she was naming was wealthy, she said, and these people were ruthless.

       At the end of the interview, the detectives slid their business cards across the table to her.  But there was one last thing The Witness wanted to tell them; in the most recent assault, she had been burned with a stun gun.  She wanted to know if there was a female detective who could examine her and take photographs to file as evidence.  The cops said they would arrange it.  When she stepped out of the interview room, Hill, who didn’t want to make a scene in front of her, demanded that Hunter come back into the room.  With the district attorney present, Hill lit into the detectives.  They’d done very little about letting The Witness get to the important parts of her story, instead choosing to focus on when she might be “going home.”

       “She CAN’T go home,” Hill yelled.  As a former law-enforcement officer, he knew something was fishy.  Revealing the whereabouts of a competent adult being a witness in a murder case as standard procedure didn’t wash.  If their leak to the California police was standard procedure, any stalker in the country could locate his prey simply by filing a missing-persons report.

       “At considerable risk to herself, she leaves everything to come forward and try to help you people.  Then you needlessly strip her of her only security and tell her pursuers where she is and what she’s doing.  And all you can give her to shield herself is two fucking business cards.”

       After many safehouses, it was decided that the best protection for The Witness would be to publicize her story, which is why you’re reading about it here.  As of today, Hill keeps a lower profile, carries a Glock at all times, and both the Witness and the therapist have disappeared into the proverbial woodwork.  The Boulder PD, perhaps not surprisingly given what we know, declined to pursue her claims. 

       Finally there’s this from a source: “There was an older man who was phoned on the eve of the murder according to phone records, and he had a chalet in Aspen.  We (of the JBR forum) hired a private investigator to find out about this man.  The PI came back freaked out after pulling the man up on a records computer and said ‘Here, take your money, I’m not touching this.’  The man’s name on said records list was flagged, which meant he had a big mark by his name NOT TO GO THERE in other words.  He is someone really big, and scary, and not to be toyed with even for records’ sake.  We never found out the man’s “real” identity, only who he was in terms of power and reputation.  The name that he went by, I have a feeling, is not his given name.  The PI was absolutely not going to pursue the investigation of this man, as he was obviously someone not to be crossed.  He looked like some old German guy with white hair, wealth, and an obvious facelift.”  This information all came about during a parsing of the Ramsey phone records.

       The source later disclosed “The old guy mentioned previously was well known to certain people.  The name going around for who was called that night was Fleet White, Sr.  I always wondered if he wasn’t one of those Nazis who the U.S. slipped in over here to do their bidding and given a new name and a facelift.  Nothing can be proved.  Not only is he dead now, but he was old when this happened.  Those guys live a long, long time.  No one could ever find his name on the internet (scrubbed?) or his records, as they were ‘flagged.’  He’s gone.”  The only mention of him now on the internet is his obit.  Fleet Russell White of Aspen died August 6, 2006.  He was 93.  He is survived, of course, by Fleet White Jr.  And the show goes on.

       Of course the sickening cherry on top of this vile dessert was revealed on October 25, 2013 when court documents sealed in 1999 were released.  They stated that a 1999 Grand Jury had indicted John and Patsy Ramsey for child abuse resulting in death, as well as being accessory to a crime, including murder.  The papers allege both parents intended to prevent or delay the arrest of the alleged killer.  Then-District Attorney Alex Hunter declined to sign the indictment, saying the evidence was insufficient.  Does anything more need to be said about how this world works?  Things only get unsealed, the truth only gets unsealed, when these people are dead.  And it only happens then so that the other perps can continue “the great work.”  The blame gets placed, however indirectly, and the show goes on.  See Jerry Sandusky.  They are ever eager to offer up one of their own, then the depravity of the few who control the many continues, nightgaunts on a duplicitous web foisted on an unsuspecting world.  Look into the faces of what we’re dealing with.  What was the phrase in Rosemary’s Baby?  Ah yes, All Of Them Witches.  Pay particular attention to the uber creepy Danish royal family portrait and Baroness Rothschild's choice of neckwear.  It's, ahem, illuminating.

       “The radios were active.  I could hear what sounded like pilot communications.  Someone repeated over the air: ‘Here it comes.  Here it comes.  Here it comes.’  Over the far end of the field, from the direction of the North Sea, I noticed a small red light.  The light came closer each second.  At first I thought it was an aircraft, but it came at us too fast and silently.  I noticed at this time that my movements had become very slow, as if I were in a vacuum.  This was the last time I checked my watch.  It was almost 1:30 a.m.  My arm felt like lead as I lifted and dropped it.

       The red light cleared the pines bordering the field and quickly made a downward arc until it was directly over the illuminated fog.  Only about twenty feet above the ground, the object was now stationary and roughly the size of a basketball.  I had never seen its color before, but red comes closest.

       As my mind tried to register what I was looking at, the ball of light exploded in a blinding flash.  Shards of light and particles fell onto the fog.  Several cops ran into the woods…

       The explosion produced no noticeable heat.  But now, right in front of me was a machine occupying the spot where the fog had been.  It was big and almost the shape of a pyramid.  At the top of the object was that same off-red glow.  The main body was pearl white, with a rainbow-color effect.  Its image was constantly distorting; its shape was best seen by peripheral vision.  At the base was a bank of extremely bright cobalt-blue lights.  Below that, I thought I could make out what looked like dark landing gear.  Covering the entire surface were what looked like boxes, pipes, and strange extensions…

       An officer approached Bustinza and me.  He asked us to walk with him, very close to the object.  A disaster-preparedness man led the way with a Geiger counter in hand.  I did not want any of this.  We got to within ten or fifteen feet of the thing.  Our four shadows touched the object, but there were no lights in the field to cast them.  It seemed to be pulling our shadows onto itself.

       We walked ten paces to the left, and then to the right.  By now my eyes were watering profusely, so that every time I would get a fix on the object, its image would blur.  Each time we stopped walking, our shadows would move as if taking one more step.

       We were then ordered back to our original positions, about twenty-five feet away.  I looked behind me, saw the field’s barbed-wire fence, and marked an old, knotted oak tree for future reference – in case I ever returned to the spot…

       I noticed that some of the senior people seemed to know what they were doing; it was as if they were following some sort of procedure.”                                                           Larry Warren, Left At East Gate

       We inhabit a world where things like Rendlesham and Ramsey are a part of this reality.  I don’t know if they’re related, but whether you’re in a field in Rendlesham forest or the cozy confines of your bedroom, forces at any minute, Heisenberg-like, can be set into motion to alter our perceptions here, to change forever our impressions of this “ride” on a quantum level.  I can make a good educated, informed guess that things like the Ramsey scenario happen at a certain time and at a certain place for a reason, and that they are a ritual by a warped consciousness to set the stage for something.  A ritual, perhaps, of summoning.

       Here it comes.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Nighttime In The Switching Yard

  “If You Tolerate This, Then Your Children Will Be Next.”  Republican poster during Spanish Civil War

       “Open eyes, closed hearts, trembling hands tear apart the chains,” White Storm of Teeth, the Devil’s Blood

       “Old stains, but just as telling.” Jim Garrison



       We’re coming up on a full fifty years since the Dealey Plaza massacre, the celebrated triangulated crossfire of David Ferrie, the original Nightmare on Elm Street, and what’s changed?  Well, not much.  An informed and respectable two-thirds of Americans still think there was a conspiracy to assassinate John F. Kennedy that went far beyond the scope (pardon the pun) of just one lone nut, but that’s actually down from almost 75% some ten years ago.  Just this past week seen darkening the National Geographic channel, “Killing Kennedy” has been doing boffo box office, garnering the highest ratings ever for that venue.  Very alarming from the standpoint it was penned by none other than Bill O’Reilly, one of the biggest shills for the powers-that-be that ever slithered his way across your telescreens, and alarming from the standpoint it’s one of the biggest whitewashes and examples of the elite covering their reptilian asses since the Warren Commission itself.

       Once upon a time O’Reilly actually had some integrity, a bit of conscience, and a spine, all of which were quickly jettisoned in his pell-mell flight to stardom on Fox and quest to be seen as Roger Ailes number-one bootlicker.  Few can now remember (was it another lifetime?) when, working for ‘Inside Edition,’ O’Reilly actually championed the meticulous work of assassination-researcher extraordinaire Gaeton Fonzi in a number of pieces, going so far as to lobbying networks for an inside series that would actually get to the bottom of the assassination cabal and all that it encompassed in a wide-ranging investigation.  Like so many before him, O’Reilly’s integrity proved far easier to garner than to retain, and he morphed into today’s slimeball.  Compromise, thy name is…but let’s spend no more time on the utter inanity of O’Reilly, always keeping in mind however how dangerous his ilk is for muddying the waters of truth for those that choose not to remember or investigate.  Or as JFK himself said “Too often we enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought.”

       “Do not pray for easy lives, pray to be stronger men.”  JFK

       The numbers of holes that can be driven through the official story of the assassination as written by the Warren Commission almost beggars belief and is akin to shooting fish in a barrel.  So on this 50th anniversary, and in keeping with the dark tableau established here, let’s look at some esoteric, and some more straightforward.  All airtight arguments.  As an adjunct, I’ll simply say watch Oliver Stone’s epic “JFK” again.  In tone, form and style a truer Saturday-matinee “monster movie” was never made.  Notice the shading in scenes, the coloring as it moves from cool blue to sickly, claustrophobic, suffocating orange; even the hue of Garrison’s attire moving from lights to darks mirroring his worldview and outlook, his growing disenfranchisement, his disillusion with his government and his country as his once-proud ideals get stomped into so much ominous background thunder.  All of this works together like a gathering storm to marshal a creeping sense of dread that is both unavoidable and unstoppable.  Forget that after this and because of this, Stone was effectively de-fanged and de-balled by every establishment station in the hemisphere, which he unfortunately and to his detriment, took to heart, seemingly now for the rest of his career.  But here he made mighty connections and joined together disparate investigations in a force-of-nature way perhaps even a younger Orson Welles couldn’t have summoned, coming up with a piece of Art that can truly change the way you look at history and your world.  There is what-you-thought-of-as-reality that your eyes perceived before you saw this film, and what the truth is that they will always perceive after.  And they are not the same.  This film is literally the dividing line, and switching yard, of a lifetime. It’ll put you on a whole different track.

       Often called the Rosetta Stone of assassination studies, there is the strange case of J.D. Tippit, the Dallas Police Dept. patrolman supposedly killed by Oswald after the assassination and on his way to hiding out in the movie theatre.  Oswald claims he was eating lunch in the TSBD when the shooting of the President occurred and that he left shortly thereafter believing there would be no further work that day.  According to his landlady, he got to his Dallas rooming house at 1 p.m., changed his shirt, and left at 1:03.

She also testified that while he was there, a police car pulled up to the house and honked once.  Between 1:06 and 1:15 a mile away Dallas policeman J.D. Tippit was shot dead next to his patrol car.  1:45 and half a mile away from the Tippit slaying reports of a suspicious man sneaking into a movie theatre are issued.  Police converge, there’s a short scuffle, and Oswald is taken in.

       Four bullets were removed from Tippit’s body: 3 copper coated Westerns and 1 lead Remington, none traceable to Oswald’s gun.  Four shells that DID match his gun were sent to the FBI exactly 1 week later: 2 Westerns and 2 Remingtons, none bearing the telltale etchings in initial form of the policeman-on-scene who booked them in as evidence.

       So events in Cliff Park 40 minutes after the JFK ambush obviously provide valuable clues and heavily point to manipulation and orchestration by unknown parties.  First reports coming in describe Tippit’s killer as matching the exact description of Jack Ruby.  The sole reliable witness became unclear, then finally settled on Oswald months later, after being nearly beaten to death by unknown assailants.  Hmmm.  Tippit looked so much like JFK that fellow policemen called him “Mister President.”  Tippit was taken to the same hospital as JFK, with a bullet wound to the head also the cause of death.  Eerily enough, his wounds matched identically the wounds in the JFK autopsy.  Tippit was buried the following day in a closed casket.  He remains the only Texas cop ever shot and killed on duty who was buried with no autopsy.  The obvious question has to be was his body used for forensics and x-rays posing as JFK’s?  With the kill shot coming from the front, and the School Book Depository behind, they had a problem, especially with JFK’s body too mangled to be effectively manipulated, although there is evidence they tried this also.  When RFK looked at his brother in the open casket for the last time his first words were “It doesn’t look like him at all.”  Finally he blurted out in a controlled fury to aides, “You musn’t keep it open.  It has no resemblance to the President.”  Arthur Schlesinger said “Appalling; at first glance it seemed all right, but I’m nearsighted.  When I came closer it looked less and less like him.”  And a sobbing Jackie: “That’s not my husband.  It’s not Jack.”  And since a picture is worth a thousand words, gaze upon the Tippit/JFK composite.

       Along those very same lines, David Ferrie himself, along with every other defender of the official story, always maintained Oswald and Ferrie never knew each other or had ever met.  This unearthed (1993) archive photo from the Civil Air Patrol of New Orleans proves that a lie.  A lie repeated loudly by the way, by the treasonous Warren Commission.  Also bizarrely telling: although 50 years dead, Oswald’s tax records still remain classified. Why?


       “One person can make a difference and every person should try.  A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on.” -- JFK

       How exactly does one bullet cause seven wounds in two people?  How can it possibly gather enough velocity from a cheap bolt-action rifle to do that?  How can our minds gather enough information, enough critical thinking, to gather the velocity to escape the traps set for us long ago that we still find ourselves ambered in?  In this country, right now, critical thinking is dead and censorship is king.  Unless you hear it from CBS, Disney, Hearst, Time Warner, Viacom or Comcast it doesn’t exist.  And although consolidation and deregulation originated in the pipeline from Reagan to Clinton, before that workin’ for the clampdown wasn’t unheard of. The following incriminating content was originally archived (now currently scrubbed) from

       “On January 31, 1968, New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison appeared on the Tonight Show to discuss his investigation into U.S. government involvement in the assassination of JFK.  Over the course of 90 minutes, the smiles and yucks went silent.  Johnny Carson, America’s chuckling nighttime buddy, everybody’s friend, was the assassin.  He badgered, belittled, and mocked Garrison, repeatedly interrupting him as he made an impassioned plea to the American people to question the official story of the assassination.  When Garrison attempted to show the photograph of the infamous “Three Tramps” (still unidentified mystery men who were arrested behind the Grassy Knoll and marched through Dealey Plaza, likely members of the assassination team), Carson made sure America would not see it.  He yanked Garrison’s arm aside, and cut the cameras.  Garrison later mused:

       “Why had I been debriefed in advance so that Carson could be apprised of my likely answers?  Why had Carson pulled my arm away so that the photographs were out of camera range?  And why had the director and the control room switched the camera so that the photographs could not be seen?  The only reasonable, realistic explanation, I found myself concluding, was control.  Some long cherished illusions of mine about the great free press in our country underwent a painful reappraisal during this period.  The restraint and respect for justice one might expect from the press…did not exist.”

       The unholy alliance between the media and the government, in covering up government crimes, was evident that night.  “The function of the Warren Commission was to make the American people feel that the assassination had been looked into so that there would be no further inquiries,” Garrison told an incredulous Carson.  “I just can’t understand how you think that these men think they can get away with it or for what reason they would do it,” Carson later responded.

       By 9 a.m. the next morning, Garrison had received more than 2,000 telegrams from district attorneys across America, who felt that Carson’s “nervous antagonism,” was a sign that Garrison was onto something.  Feeling the need to apologize for Carson’s demeanor (which was nevertheless polite and jovial by today’s shout-fest standards), NBC sent out thousands of form letters saying “The Johnny seen on TV that night was not the Johnny we all know and love.  He had to play the devil’s advocate, because that makes for a better program.”

       Carson was furious about the letter, and promised never to allow Garrison on his show again.

       It is no surprise that today, as mainstream corporate media is flooded with “happy” Carson memories and magnificent tomes about how the charming Carson “epitomized the goodness of middle America,” the Garrison interview, the one glaring moment that exposed Carson as a peevish, patronizing, gatekeeping servant of larger forces continues to be studiously avoided.  Times, and the historical facts, have fully vindicated the late Garrison.

       Here we find something to truly mourn: Johnny Carson, on that night in 1968, had the power to change the world.  He chose to use that power to destroy a courageous whistleblower, kill truth, and keep America na├»ve and stupid.”

       We see in that piece describing 45 years ago how nothing has really changed, and keeping the real truth of the JFK assassination from us remains just as important as ever to those dark forces scuttling behind the scenes.  As the field of play has expanded from 3 networks to 3,000, so have their mouthpieces of psychological operations and propaganda.  We’ve gone from a lone Carson to multiple shills on multiple fronts:  O’Reilly, Vince Bugliosi, Gerald Posner, Norman Mailer, Stephen King, and perhaps most odious of all, the officious Tom Hanks, America’s seemingly self-appointed ‘historian-of-record.’  Why go to all this effort year after year?  What remains so utterly poisonous to them about Kennedy’s life and message?  So poisonous they not only had to execute him in public, but they have to go about killing what his life meant in perpetuity ad infinitum?  Hmmm.  I think I smell a clue:

“The very word ‘secrecy’ is repugnant in a free and open society; and we are as a people inherently and historically opposed to secret societies, to secret oaths and to secret proceedings.  We decided long ago that the dangers of excessive and unwarranted concealment of pertinent facts far outweighed the dangers which are cited to justify it.  Even today, there is little value in opposing the threat of a closed society by imitating its arbitrary restrictions.  Even today, there is little value in insuring the survival of our nation if our traditions do not survive with it.  And there is very grave danger that an announced need for increased security will be seized upon by those anxious to expand its meaning to the very limits of censorship and concealment.  That I do not intend to permit to the extent that it is in my control.  And no official of my Administration, whether his rank is high or low, civilian or military, should interpret my words here tonight as an excuse to censor the news, to stifle dissent, to cover up our mistakes or to withhold from the press and the public the facts they deserve to know.

       For we are opposed around the world by a monolithic and ruthless conspiracy that relies on covert means for expanding its sphere of influence – on infiltration instead of invasion, on subversion instead of elections, on intimidation instead of free choice, on guerillas by night instead of armies by day.  It is a system which has conscripted vast human and material resources into the building of a tightly knit, highly efficient machine that combines military, diplomatic, intelligence, economic, scientific and political operations.

       Its preparations are concealed, not published.  Its mistakes are buried, not headlined.  Its dissenters are silenced, not praised.  No expenditure is questioned, no rumor is printed, no secret is revealed.

       No President should fear public scrutiny of his program.  For from that scrutiny comes understanding; and from that understanding comes support or opposition.  And both are necessary.  I am not asking your newspapers to support the Administration, but I am asking your help in the tremendous task of informing and alerting the American people.  For I have complete confidence in the response and dedication of our citizens whenever they are fully informed.

       I not only could not stifle controversy among your readers – I welcome it.  This Administration intends to be candid about its errors; for as a wise man once said: “An error does not become a mistake until you refuse to correct it.”  We intend to accept full responsibility for our errors, and we expect you to point them out when we miss them.

       Without debate, without criticism, no Administration and no country can succeed – and no republic can survive.  That is why the Athenian lawmaker Solon decreed it a crime for any citizen to shrink from controversy.  And that is why our press was protected by the First Amendment – the only business in America specifically protected by the Constitution – not primarily to amuse and entertain, not to emphasize the trivial and sentimental, not to simply “give the public what it wants” – but to inform, to arouse, to reflect, to state our dangers and our opportunities, to indicate our crises and our choices, to lead, mold, educate, and sometimes even anger public opinion.

       This means even greater coverage and analysis of international news – for it is no longer far away and foreign but close at hand and local.  It means greater attention to improved understanding of the news as well as improved transmission.  And it means, finally, that government at all levels, must meet its obligation to provide you with the fullest possible information outside the narrowest limits of national security.  And so it is to the printing press – the recorder of man’s deeds, the keeper of his conscience, the courier of his news – that we look to for strength and assistance, confident that with your help man will be what he was born to be:  free and independent.”

       Those words came straight from JFK to the American Newspaper Publishers Association, at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel on April 27, 1961.  I have no earthly idea if they are taught in the history classes of today when the subject of Kennedy and the milieu of the early 1960s arises, but they should be, if only for the stark irony and juxtaposition.  Can anyone in their wildest dreams imagine the forked tongues of George W. Bush, his father, or Obama coming up with such profundity?  Such brutal truth and depth would rend the flesh from their bones.  Now that’s a miniseries I’d be willing to watch.

       Assassination researcher Mary Ferrell in 1993 opened a symposium of researchers in Dallas with these words:  “As the 30th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy descends on us, I am much concerned that we are on the threshold of a failure from which there will be no forgiveness.

       We must win this struggle for truth, and do so quickly, lest the assassination of President Kennedy flounder on some remote shoulder of highway, in a century whose history is on the way to the printer.  In the next century, this case could be relegated to obscure questions on U.S. history examinations.  Time is our most relentless and uncompromising enemy.”

       When Kennedy was killed Mary Ferrell was a 41-year-old Dallas legal secretary.  She devoted the last 41 years of her life to compiling research on the murder as her contributions to the cause of justice.  Because of her tireless efforts, along with other invaluable research from the utterly singular Mae Brussell, Stone was inspired to include a woman in Garrison’s inner circle when filming ‘JFK’ as both a tribute and homage.  No such female existed in real life.

       The entire JFK murder narrative has more absurd holes in it than anything until the 9/11 official fantasy and with good reason:  the same monsters are responsible for both.  Behind every official pronouncement lies an assault on our common sense, an augment on our suffering by these clubby demons-in-human-clothing.  One bullet causing 7 wounds in 2 people?  Jet fuel (kerosene) causing 2 skyscrapers to collapse?  Listen closely.  Behind all the official, by-the-script byplay from Dan Rather to John Chancellor and back again, you can hear the cackling of the damned echoing down the years, mocking us, reveling in our torment and anguish.  The more outlandish the lie the more exponential their giddy, in-your-face celebrations.

       Amid all the current surveillance and deception, the comets and catastrophe, the ghost of JFK beckons to us from the wild blue yonder of yesterday; those sunny slopes of long ago serving as either Cartesian coordinates of our destruction, or a dire warning to wake up.  Which one is up to us.  Still.

       “Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.” -- JFK