Wednesday, April 30, 2014

THE PLANE OF EXPLODING SOULS


    
“My stories are attempts at reception; at listening to voices from another place, far away.  They only come out at night, when the background din and gabble of our world have faded out.  Then, faintly, I hear voices from another star.”

                                                      Philip K. Dick



     “Without further ado, we begin this journey - for no particular reason - with the aforementioned Phil Hartman, who was a high school friend of Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme, who later became a disciple of Charlie Manson, a jailhouse correspondent of John Hinckley, and the attempted assassin of President Gerald Ford, who was once a roommate of modeling entrepreneur Harry Conover, whose wife was the infamous Candy Jones, who was 'treated' by CIA-linked hypnotist William Jennings Bryan, who also 'treated' the purported Boston Strangler, Albert DeSalvo, whose name was written repetitively throughout the diaries of Sirhan Sirhan, who was also 'treated' by Bryan, who served as the technical director on The Manchurian Candidate, which was directed by John Frankenheimer, at whose beach house a dinner was held on June 5, 1968, (just after he had driven pal RFK to the Ambassador Hotel), whose attendees included "Mama" Cass Elliot, Roman Polanski, and Sharon Tate, who was killed just over a year later by followers of Charlie Manson, whose music was recorded by Doris Day's son, music producer Terry Melcher, who lived with girlfriend Candace Bergen at 10050 Cielo Drive the year before it became a slaughterhouse after being rented by Polanski..”

                                                                                                                                                   







     From the above quote gleaned from the impressive research of Dave McGowan, you begin to wonder about the curious synchronicities and groupings that plague and populate the history of both the political and the paranormal, which together comprise the secret history of all America. Fascinating how the same names tend to gravitate toward one another despite time and circumstance, even beyond the normal scope and definition of conspiracy, as if guided by an even darker force than greed, or shared ideology.  Then faintly, ever so faintly as Phil Dick described, the startling notion comes to you: Satan is a virus.  A virus running loose and rampant in this haunted house on this haunted planet, where there is a distinct occult underpinning that ghosts from blackness to blackness, in veiled operations from the Kennedy assassinations to MK-Ultra to Iran/Contra to the Franklin scandal and the Finders, Waco, Oklahoma City, Columbine and 9/11 to chemtrails, GMOs, and Agenda 21, on toward some vacant and unrecognizable horizon at the intersection of Luciferianism and transhumanism.  Where the same names from the aforesaid Bryan to Richard Helms to Richard Ben Veniste, Aleister Crowley, Helena Blavatsky, Warren Buffett, Rudolph Giuliani, Michael Aquino, Ted Shackley, Barry Seal, Sidney Gottlieb and a litany of others continue to fall like infected dominoes down across the years, corrupting what they touch, exploiting what they need on the killing floor they’ve made of our existence in the here and now, meeting at blasted, celestial coordinates where real life becomes a preordained contagion.



     In light of this night train of thought, and in looking to tie up the odds and loose ends of Malaysian jet MH370 from last time, let’s examine where the trails of money and sigil worship lead us tonight, especially given the fact that the times lately have reverberated with even more ritual than usual, in both life and death, on this plane of exploding and cross-connected souls.  The minute you begin to think this great galactic game isn’t rigged, you recall the ominous ramifications that Satan tempted Jesus with this world and everything in it, and just how could he have done so if it wasn’t his to give in the first place?





     So much has happened since last time in the narrative of the cursed MH370, I hardly know where to begin.  But, as always, the primary clues begin with misdirection.  We last left off with the families of the missing calling out the Malaysian authorities, the intelligence services, the Western influences on the investigation, and pretty much everyone they sensed was lying to them about everything through the mouthpiece(s) of various mainstream media.  And lo these many weeks and now almost months on, nothing has changed for them.  Rumours and declarations fly to no avail.  Malaysian authorities spouted that “technology like no other” had been used for the first time in an event such as this only to determine that they knew exactly where the wreckage was and the plane must be presumed lost, down with all on board.  Days later it’s announced that this tech that was “so advanced it had never been used before” was mistaken.  Wreckage sites get moved like chess pieces in an elaborate, macabre shadow play.  And still this sickeningly continues even as you read this.





     It was announced that the crash site had been pinpointed thanks to the usage of INMARSAT, a global positioning system rocketed into orbit that just happens to be owned by a consortium that includes no less than several Bushes and bin Ladens. (The very same ‘usual suspects’ who happen to just coincidentally own Freescale.)  The Skull and Bones network strikes again in the global follow-the-money web of intrigue.  What kind of misdirection and misinformation bombs could possibly profit people like that?  Families like those colluding in a false-flag event to both drive geopolitical agendas and make untold billions in the process?  Echoing ‘Casablanca,’ I’m shocked, shocked I tell you.  The object of their affection?  I present to you the Freescale Kinetis KL03 microcontroller unit in all its glory.  Look closely, because this little trinket embodies the patent worth disappearing planeloads over.






     Then, there is the curious case of the two dead ex-Navy Seals, Mark Daniel Kennedy and Jeffrey Keith Reynolds, 43 and 44 years of age, under highly suspicious circumstances.




     These 2 young men died, according to police reports, of respiratory failure.  These 2 were also charged with commandeering a transfer of “unknown cargo” onto MH370 from the U.S. container ship MV Maersk Alabama,



where it had previously been traced back to the Indian Ocean nation Republic of the Seychelles.  Both of these men were employed by maritime security firm the Trident Group, based in Virginia Beach, Virginia, founded by U.S. Navy Special Ops and Senior U.S. Naval Surface Warfare, which just so happens to specialize in the transfer of hazardous atomic and biological materials.  In the background to all this is the fact that in articles going back to 2011, Malaysia was targeted for destabilization by the CIA, Mossad, and friends. 





     Then there is this curious, recently uncovered series of facts from 9/11 investigator Christopher Bollyn that, taken in context, is telling:  remember that MH370 disappeared in the early morning hours of March 8.  On March 23, just when certain circumstances surrounding the disappearance began pointing fingers in the direction of Israel, the Mossad, and the CIA, all Israeli embassies and consulates worldwide were shut down, a historically unprecedented move that smacked of keeping all Israeli intel agents and military attaches sequestered from prying, questioning reporters, not to mention law enforcement agencies from both Asia and the West.  The historical shutdown was blamed on a vague, “fierce labor dispute,” that also remained unexplained in press releases.        



     Then there is this:  based on eyewitness reports from a network of investigators, insiders, and plane watchers in Europe and Israel, Bollyn went public with the news that there was an identical production model of the Malaysian Airlines Boeing 777 being kept in a sealed and guarded hanger at Tel Aviv airport.  Seattle-based Boeing always assembles aircraft in pairs as is its standard practice, but the question remains how one jet was leased by Malaysia’s national carrier while the other matching plane was secretly turned over to the Israeli government without a purchase order from state-run El Al airlines.



     Bollyn uncovered the fact that the two jets were delivered to a shielded, third-party company.  We can only surmise that somewhere in this timeline, plans for a false-flag are on order.  But why would the Israeli and/or U.S. planners need to hijack the Malaysian sister-plane when just one would be needed for the op?  Because the mint-condition jet in Tel Aviv would need to be retrofitted with Stealth cloaking, state-of-the-art avionics, aviation electronics, DU-tipped ordnance, and high-temperature explosives to run the false flag.  Then the fake evidence of Malaysian origins would be needed to complete the ruse, including identifying metal tags and other parts containing ID numbers, seat covers, crew uniforms, and not the least of which, bodies.  Especially including the two Iranian patsies ID’d as being on board.  You remember, the ones whose pictures they released to the media that were photoshopped giving them the same pair of legs.



    

     No other aircraft manufacturer is closer to the intelligence apparatus than Boeing.  More than a business corporation, Boeing is a state wholly unto itself, with a vast network of facilities around Seattle and at every major airport globally.  Less visible are its connections with ghost airlines operating in remote island locations.  The company provides for all of its powerful customers needs, desires and fantasies, as expressed in one of its older slogans, Forever New Frontiers.  One of those frontiers proved to be remote piloting of civilian aircraft, based on drone warfare tech.  The twinned 777s of Tel Aviv and Malaysia are later models of course, and designed to fly-by-wireless.  Boeing delivered them to a middleman in October 2013, who then delivered one to Malaysia last November.



     The twin jets were sold to GA Telesis, an aircraft leasing and servicing company based in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.  The owner of GAT is Abdol Moabery, son of Iranian immigrants in LA’s Woodlawn Hills tony suburb.  GAT also happens to be owned, unaccountable and farther up the food chain, by (ding ding ding Satan virus), the Rothschilds.



     Interestingly following on that demonic virus meme, Moabery, before and after September 2001, was executive manager of Skywatch, a company that develops monitoring devices for the rooftops of office towers.  One specific device can spot as many as 300 objects flying in the area in one sweep and paint the one flying toward the targeted property.  One of the partners in Skywatch happens to be Rudolph Giuliani, who claimed his interest was based solely on its potential application to monitor U.S. borders against illegal immigrants.  One immigrant who happened to slip past the Skywatch net (with mountains of help from the inside) was Mohammed Atta.  Despite or perhaps because of none other than Skywatch, Flights 11 and 175 flew like preordained missiles into the Twin Towers.



     Six months after 9/11, Moabery left Skywatch (mission accomplished?), and started up GAT with Rothschild financing in Florida, a state lorded over by fellow Repuglican Jeb Bush, and where the 9/11 suspects had extensive flight training.  Jeb Bush, by the way, as forecast right here way back when, is being groomed to be the Repuglican nominee for none other than President in 2016.  Dig the groovy fake glasses designed by a flotilla of personal aides and designers to impart a vague sense of gravitas and intellectualism.  Look closely to see it ain’t workin’. 
      This guy.  
       Seriously?



     Finally Moabery takes an acute interest in homeless children (sure he does) as founder of a charity called Kids In Distress.  You won’t have to venture very far in this blog to find out just how deep down the rabbit hole looking into a venture like that could plunge you.  I haven’t looked into it yet, but dare I say son of Happy Valley and Second Mile anybody?





     “Tonight we’re summoned for a divine cause/ Remembrance, no/ But for their future lost/ This chapel of ritual/ smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar/ Bedouins and nomads/ carried through the times/ Through pestilence and famines/ These ancient scrolls of rhymes/ “Our fallen angel vexed was banished from the sky/ Recite now from the text, pray for all to die/ In this chapel of ritual/ Smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar bed/ On this night of ritual/ Invoking our Master…..”

                                                                                         Ritual, GHOST, from Opus Eponymous   





     One further aspect of this MH370 ritual is worthy of reflection.  Previous reports have suggested that on the night/morning of the disappearance, military radar picked up a mysterious aircraft moving across the Malaysian peninsula, but government officials have remained vague on any link to the missing Boeing 777.



     Speaking to CNN, Malaysian PM Najib Razak confirmed that radar did indeed track the object once it had deviated from its original flight path, but said that this was only established after the event.  He said that he believed there was someone monitoring the radar at the time (???) but that nothing more was done to investigate the unidentified aircraft as it was deemed “not to be hostile.”  See the 4:01 YouTube video “Radar Playback of the Moment Malaysia Flight 370 Vanished!” for some rather non-ballistic anomalies included in just one more aspect of the disappearance that skates over to the eerie side.  Data coming from flightradar24, an online real-time tracking system, indicate that 370 plunged from 35,000 feet to zero in a matter of seconds, close to instantaneously.  Another unidentified craft nearby and running parallel for a time, accelerated at a seemingly impossible speed nearing 2,000 mph before stopping to hover in place for a time before vanishing.



     The NSA have refused all FOIA requests regarding this particular radar return and all other aspects of the flight, saying that it has information about the incident that is “properly classified.”  And so it goes.







     Verifiable evidence also exists that the pilots did NOT cooperate with any type of attack or hijacking as the co-pilot successfully dialed out via the last cell tower in Malaysian space.  After this an AWACS platform was likely used to jam communications.  The co-pilot got a cell call out to his mother, picked up by the last tower on the coast of Penang, on the West Coast of Malaysia.  It abruptly cut, but the origin being flight 370 has been confirmed.  The U.S. officially denies this, but police investigations have confirmed through the mother’s call records that the call did in fact take place.  The location also confirmed that the 777 had turned and was headed towards Diego Garcia.



     Then, around the 19th of March, the Philip Wood “cover” story first began being floated out there in the worldwide media, like “The Mysterious Case of MH370” that aired on Canadian television.  (See the 11:35 YouTube posting of it labeled as “The Mysterious Case of Malaysian Airlines Flight MH370.”)  In hindsight, however well produced, this smells like part of a set-up.  Amazingly, later that same day, March 19th, word successfully went viral that the missing Philip Wood, the only American adult passenger, actually dialed out of Diego Garcia via voice activation on his Iphone5, which he had smuggled in.  He also actually posted a “selfie” he snapped at the site which came out entirely black, which would’ve been the case given his being held in a darkened cell.   Under the title HELP, his message read:

     “I have been held hostage by unknown military personal (personnel) after my flight was hijacked (blindfolded.)  I work for IBM and have managed to hide my cellphone in my ass during the hijack. I have been separated from the other passengers and I am in a cell.  My name is Philip Wood.  I think I have been drugged as well and cannot think clearly.”



     The exif data coordinates, or GPS metadata, for the photo also match correctly the exact area of Diego Garcia, but are actually off some 3 miles from the data listed officially on Google for the island.  The fact it matches nothing available online only adds to its seeming authenticity.  The data also was confirmed as coming from an Iphone5.  All of this hitting the media and web at the same time reeks of either disinfo or a planned psychological operation.  In fact, the capture of the data actually lists the date of the photo as being March 18th, a day before the Canadian piece first aired.








     Also in researching, I’ve found the name Philip Wood comes up in the timeline even earlier, on March 13th






     And then there is the spook-ridden factor of Wood’s girlfriend, one Sarah Bajc, whose background is interesting to say the least.  She has been on the offensive also, appearing on news services worldwide, telling stories.  This one from dateline Kuala Lumpur: “In a strange twist of events Sarah Bajc, the girlfriend of missing flight 370 passenger Philip Wood, told CNN how the Malaysian military and even the U.S. are likely involved in a massive cover-up surrounding the aircraft’s disappearance on the morning of March 8th.




     Astonishingly Bajc told CNN ‘The jet had actually been accompanied by fighter planes.  There is some witness to that.’




     ‘I think we need to have a better view of where that plane went and who has got it now,’ Bajc told CNN, going on to explain that she feels her boyfriend Philip Wood is still alive somewhere.  Bajc also pointed out that the general consensus amongst family members also leans to the plane still being intact somewhere, alluding to a militarized operation.



     ‘I am sure that the military in Malaysia knew that the plane was there and has tracked it in someway. Now whether they were in control of it or not we don’t know.  Many people are saying that the U.S. is involved, but the general thinking across the families here and even non-families, believe that this was a military operation of some sort,’ said Bajc.”  She floated all of this, by the way, only after the story of Wood being in a cell on Diego Garcia came out.



     In a nutshell, this very busy woman has held all these positions:

-          CEO for Yuanfen Flow

-          Senior VP for marketing and alliances for hiSoft

-          Business Director for the Strategic Partnership group for Microsoft R&D

-          CEO Operations North America for Tescom, Tel Aviv

-          Began career with Deloitte and Touche and Cap Gemini

-          Advisor to the Board of Directors of Women in Leadership

-          Advisory Board of Future Generations

-          Executive Member of the International Council for Global EXEC Women from 2005 through 2007

-          Chair of the annual International women of Influence Awards

-          Vice Chair for Strategic Branding of the Zhongguancun Software Assoc.

-          Participant in the U.S. philanthropic sector

-          Exec founding ambassador for the Georgia China alliance

-          Delegate American Electronics Association trade mission to China 2006

-          2005 President of Women in Technology

-          2006 president WIT Foundation

-          Advisory board for the U.S. Government Technology Counsel

-          Teacher at Harrow International School Beijing








     On that last one, what are the odds that Sarah Bajc would end up teaching Economics and Business where all the Rothschilds have been educated for generations?  Does all this rushing around strike you as a prefabricated CV, or the manufacturing of an identity, a cover?  I’m sure there’s also a very good reason why a teacher would need all these names?  Very reminiscent of the multiple names dug up by rigorous Sandy Hook and Boston Bombing investigators tagged to multiple parties involved.







     Here she is also playing the dutiful wife to her husband in 2009 before the whole Philip Wood boyfriend thing came along or she was chosen by the powers that be.










     Where this huge ball of confusion leads us in the strange saga of missing MH370 is unfortunately an eldritch path to nowhere, a riddle out of time and space, except in the knowledge that there appear to be many actors playing many roles for reasons unknown at this juncture.  We also positively know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the official story is hiding something, perhaps many somethings.











     ALEA IACTA EST   - The Die Is Cast





     It appears now that we are living in the roiling throes of what used to constitute a major “flap.”  “Flaps” used to be associated in previous decades with swells in UFO sightings along certain geographies and spatial coordinates.  It seems now they have grown to include by definition some other “disturbances in the force,” times when the psychic veil around us bubbles and rends, churning upon itself, creating chaotic circumstances that sensitive people react to, that others act upon, and that still others can’t appear to survive.  They create events, spawn misrule, and force the hands of the playthings that they make of us.  High strangeness becomes the norm and seemingly random suicides become commonplace, whether they are caused by our own initiative and choice, or are initiated via mind control or worse. For now we'll bypass the likes of L'Wren Scott, Peaches Geldof, and the dozens of high-rollers from the financial districts worldwide tossing themselves off skyscrapers for what can only be assumed are ominous reasons for us all in the coming days, to focus on two disparate yet singular voices.  Both shared curious, questing natures along with proclivities ultimately too far-reaching and ominous for any long-term well-being.  Are these types more sensitive to a sickness endemic to all walks of life, and which seems to afflict those of a particular temperament (or 'bloodline') more readily than the rest?  

     Both of these figures were finally reporters, peering over the edge and into the abyss, describing the invisible forces they saw there.  Is this to be the ultimate fate for writers of the deepest truths?  Are some visions, rooted in both this world and the next, finally too much, too dangerous to live with?  



     From the beginning of March through the middle of April, this “flap” began making its rumblings felt.  First to feel its effects on March 5th (and just before the MH370 disturbance) was the slightly unheralded but highly respected musician Selim Lemouchi of avant garde, underground band The Devil’s Blood, out of Eindhoven, the Netherlands. As of this writing details are still sketchy but it is believed he took his own life at the age of 33. 



     Meeting somewhere at the touchstones of the musical Hair, Rosemary’s Baby, and Hotel California, his band summoned a time and a sound from the haunted 1970s, when music, mediums, and the times were alive with both portent and possibility; a time when the unearthly, the occult, and the fringe exploded in popularity and expanded the horizons of us all so that even the everyday could encompass everything from the Bermuda Triangle to the Mayans to the Chariots of the Gods, and a trip to your local pharmacy’s spinning paperback racks and clustered magazine stands was like venturing into the library of Alexandria before the Christians ransacked it.  We may never see days quite like that again, but the sound summoned by Lemouchi, using his sister Farida’s operatic voice and caramel tone, and their band was like Fleetwood Mac if they’d spent their time reading Dennis Wheatley novels and constructing complex, swirling suites instead of stand-alones at Warner Brothers behest.  For a time, the possibility of being even the next Doors wasn’t out of the question.




     “It wasn’t me that was in charge.  It was something outside of me that influenced me and pushed me onward.  The hand upon my shoulders.” SL



     Always struggling, with failed early bands that he would quit because of their dependence on drugs, his own depression and even hospitalization, Lemouchi, as ever dark and complicated as Hemingway, and utterly, refreshingly disdainful of self-promotion, retained a stubborn vision.  He was candid about what he’d been through, and just as adamant about where he wanted to go and what legacy he wanted to leave behind.  His ability to move past those struggles – at least initially – resulted in a collection of albums that helped restore grandeur and melody to a scene starved for them.  His work demanded investment.  It was music for the flesh, driven by almost incalculable emotion and verbal flourishes, the very sort of thing the epic Romantic poets courted in the late 1700s. 
 



     Although starting out with a strict Luciferian ethos, Lemouchi’s seeking never ceased, and by the time of their third and final album, Tabula Rasa III or Death and the Seven Pillars, released a year ago today after the band had already dissolved in January 2013, he had reached somewhere beyond the abyss, beyond good and evil, to perhaps glimpse what the Gnostics called the Demiurge.  Buried beneath his seemingly complete identification with any Reptilian Overlord lay a wounded, usurped Self…that still sought reintegration with the Divine.  RIP brother. In the online site Allmusic, under the group’s ‘themes’ are listed these five words: Fantasy.  Late night.  Halloween.  Freedom.  A finer stream-of-consciousness epitaph could never be found.




    





     I am also beyond sad to report that on 4-13-14, investigative journalist and author Michael C. Ruppert appears to have taken his own life.  Author of the seminal Crossing The Rubicon: The Decline of the American Empire at the End of the Age of Oil, as well as the newsletter From the Wilderness, he influenced Congress, Senators, and statesmen alike.  Sadly, in the end, just not enough to make the difference he so fervently campaigned for.  The fact that his book Crossing The Rubicon is in both the National Archives and the Library of Congress seems at this point little but a hollow victory to be swept under the soiled carpet of our shared, secret history.




     It’s been said that Crossing The Rubicon is perhaps the most important book written in the past 50 years, and that over its 696 pages you are saturated with enough well documented and diverse evidence to prove the 9/11 criminal conspiracy many times over while adhering to the highest possible journalistic standards.  It is stated in reviews that he actually makes a case that could hold up in a court of law, while the establishment case (or the “official” 9/11 story) couldn’t even hold up in a high school debate.  The book also seeks to show the 9/11 op through the lens of diminishing resources, the establishment of American hegemony worldwide by a cabal of inbred neocons, and the resultant mad scrabble for energy anywhere and everywhere under the sun.  He essentially lay the entire 9/11 op at the door of Dick Cheney and other high ranking officials in the Bush administration.






     Ruppert first gained notoriety by confronting CIA director John Deutch on live television during the L.A./crack epidemic hearings in 1996 as a former LAPD officer.  The situation had reached a crescendo due to the firestorm created by Gary Webb’s series of articles in the San Jose Mercury News that chronicled how the CIA brought crack into the inner cities to prop up their drug profits that fueled the lion’s share of the notorious black budget back then, as it undoubtedly still does today, only driven further and further underground and off-the-books into even more remote UAPs or “unacknowledged projects.”  It could just as well stand for unassailable or unaccountable.



     Ruppert stood his ground then and the bumbling, sputtering Deutch was forced to resign.  Ruppert would then go on to skewer the entire fa├žade that was 9/11, as well as taking on subjects as diverse as the hundreds of murdered microbiologists in the wake of 9/11, the financial improprieties including the infamous “put options” prior to the event that made many people many millions of dollars, the fascism lurking at the heart of the Patriot Act, and many, many more.



     Long before Snowden and Hastings he told us the NSA and similar like-minded agencies were spying on everything we said, wrote, and did.  In 2006 he told us the financial collapse that was coming that struck in 2008.  Time and again this gruff Cassandra would warn us, and too few of us listened.  But still, he persevered.  Until he didn’t.  Until he couldn’t anymore.




     I urge you to listen to the beautiful eulogy given by Abby Martin of RT in the YouTube vid “Abby Martin’s Personal Tribute to Investigative Journalist Michael C. Ruppert.”  May his spirit continue to haunt those who refuse to see the truth, and continue to inspire those who do.

     
 “Every man’s death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind.”      John Donne





     It’s late, I’m tired, we’re all in this together, and I fear our plane is missing more and more every day.  We’ll close with the thoughts of transitions, the hope that the chains of the universe will fall away, and the knowledge that energy can’t be destroyed, only changed, on its journey towards the return to forever.






    Long have I waited for the hour to strike, for the stars to grow tired and fall

    Since the birth of the earth I have waited, for the sands of its time to run low

    But tonight, I shall wait no more



    I’m leaving now, on a trail to sulphur and salt

    Yes I’m leaving, to the havens where all things halt

    The Yonder Beckons, the twilight oceans call

    To forbidden shores, I’ll set my course



    I’ve seen enough of your little world

    How it helplessly in the darkness twirls

    But from the roaring depths beyond the known

    My maker calls, it’s time to go



     I’m leaving now, the sun is sinking in the west

     Yes I’m leaving, to hell with all the rest

     The Yonder Beckons, the twilight oceans call,

     To forbidden shores, I’ll set my course



     The winds of Apep are upon my sail

     From ‘neath the waves I hear the old ones sing their song

     And in the distance now, the seventh lighthouse burns,

     That’s where the oceans end and that is where I yearn…
                                  “The Yonder Beckons,”  TDB