Back many years ago I used to go to our local library looking for something new and interesting. I would go through the stacks looking for books that had many copies, thinking that popular meant good. I’m no literary critic, but in that manner, I discovered Robert Ludlum, and gobbled up everything he wrote. If not good, at least he was enjoyable. He had a sense of authenticity about him, and his characters, while formulaic, were not the typical American-good-everyone-else-bad type. Anyone could be a villain, duplicity was all about, and power was always hidden in the shadows.
Ludlum died having written perhaps half of his final book, and other authors took over. I could tell, reading that last book, exactly where he passed on. The writing voice changed, the characters became cardboard cutouts.
Robert Ludlum is now a trademark, and the books are written by a committee named “Robert van Lustbader.” I’ve not read another since.
I was in the gym one day doing whatever, and had my headphones on. I was unknowingly singing along with a song so that anyone around me who had not similarly blocked out the room could hear me. A woman, who was under supervision of a trainer, tapped me on the shoulder and pretended to dance to my singing. We both laughed, and I told her the name of the song. She then said that given the terrible thing that had happened, glancing at the TV screen, it was nice to have some relief from the horrible world.
The event that troubled her was the Paris bombings. It was the first I heard of that event. I have seen the woman in the gym several times since, and have wanted to console her as I could have that day had I understood what was happening to her. I would have said “Oh, don’t worry about it. That event is fake. They do that just to make you feel scared and alone and depressed.”
[It would help, before reading this, to review our work on the Lee Harvey Oswald twins.]
Imagine you are in a field, and that all about you are rabbits. If you try to catch one, it disappears into its hole. You can chase it, but will be lost in a maze of tunnels. Meanwhile he’ll resurface and peacefully graze as you try to find your way out.
This is the Kennedy assassination. It had to be one of the best-planned psyops of all time. It comes with fake deaths at every turn, false leads, golden apples, villains and saints and fake evidence … all contrived to keep us busy for decades. I am thankful for a certain man, Miles W. Mathis, who in 2007 or 2008 solved the riddle. It allowed the rest of us to get on with our lives.
Another man, our own Tyrone, in his paper JFKTV concentrates on TV coverage of the event, an essential part of the scam. He has said in conversations these past months that nobody died that day – not JFK, Oswald, Tippet, or later Jack Ruby. Given the volume and depth of his work, I am using that as a guidepost. It is one of the few things we can rely on. I operate on the assumption that everyone who participated in the hoax lived to tell about it – JFK, both Oswald’s, Officer Tippet, and Jack Ruby.
I’ve gotten criticism at Fakeologist at various times for the work we do here – I take the brunt of it since I do the most posting. They do not like my face chops, and yesterday a woman in their ongoing podcast said that she does not trust me.
My answer to all of that is “You’re wise.” I don’t expect to be trusted, especially given the nonsense and noise that the disinfo agent Dallas Goldbug has spread around. I want to be scrutinized, doubted, and I want to advance in photo analysis so that the techniques draw more confidence. I appreciate that Fakeologist has reprinted articles by all the authors here, and that I can usually go there when looking for some new material to satisfy my eternal quest not to be bored. I accept both their criticism and distrust as normal and wholesome.
Today is the final chapter in the Freddie Mercury/Dr. Phil McGraw Zombie case. I have done all of the photo analysis, but will close this piece with what I believe to be a clincher. Just as with Bill Hicks/Alex Jones it took an overlay of teeth to convince skeptics they were the same man, I think I can pull a similar feat with these two.
As I sit down to write, I do not know how this project will end.The match-up between Freddie Mercury and Dr. Phil in the original post was so dead-on, except for the ears. Now that I know that Freddie was twins/replicas, that problem is receding.
I say “twins/replicas” because we are in transition in outlook here. There is a large program in place wherein duplicate people are somehow manufactured. I hesitate to use the word “clone,” but there have been hints in the back-and-forth among the writers here of farms or factories where people of a certain mold are turned out. See, for example, Straight’s piece on Matt Damon lookalikes. It is shocking. Since he wrote that, at his suggestion, I ran Matt Damon against quarterback Tom Brady. Except for ear height, they match up almost perfectly!
This is an examination of a national legend, one gang of a group of people who became known as “depression era gangsters”- I am looking at these mythical creatures through the media fakery prism- I cannot claim with absolute certainty that the following is true, but it rates high above the official story on the plausibility index, and that’s for me enough to offer this take-
These depression era gangsters were not individuals connected to the urban style mafias in the mid-west and east coast population centers, but the rural variety of gangster, the desperadoes that terrorized the small farm towns from Louisiana to Minnesota- Small banks, gas stations and grocery stores were their targets- And to cut to the punchline, these gangsters were completely owned and operated by the federal government, used to design and run a series of false flag operations to con the citizens of the sovereign states into accepting sweeping new powers by the US government in combating what we would today label as “domestic terrorists”-
This era lasted between 1931 and 1934 at which point within a few months of the “killing” of Bonnie and Clyde, the starting lineup of news headliners were quickly retired- Names like John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson and Ma Barker were all withdrawn in quick succession, leaving only a few gang members alive to tell the “true” stories of these better-off-dead monsters-
As part of a housecleaning effort, I want to go back and revisit some of our “Zombies” that have caused controversy and doubt, or have kept me awake.
Frankly, Freddie Mercury is not one of them, but I have gotten enough negative feedback that I have decided to start from scratch and re-do the whole business. I do not know where this leads, and if his eventual match-up to Dr. Phil proves to be a reach, so be it. I will retract. (This post will be followed soon by “Dr. Phil Revisited.”)
So for now I will work only on Mercury, then Dr. Phil, and then a comparison of the two to see if the first post regarding these two was on, or off.
So it’s Turkey Day in the US of A. Which means many of us will be spending a lot of time today and the next few weeks with family and friends. Some of us might even be brave enough to bring up some conspiracy topic: 9/11, sports, secret celebrity twins. Inevitably we will be dismissed. So I’m posting this to jump start a conversation about effective ways to talk about conspiracies with friends and family. Continue reading
Gwen Ifill died on November 14, or so we are told. There are no spook markers that I can see around her death. It could be real, and if so I offer condolences to her family, her twin sister, and also any Ifill’s that might be real people, the Riperton’s and Rudolph’s, and Maya Rudolph, who is either a daughter or niece. Spook families can be complicated.
I have a list from our writer Straight of people of interest who he thinks might be Zombies. We have diverted from that path now that we are discovering replicas. But for me it still holds interest. There appears to be a program in place to put people in music and acting to train them in the art of duplicity. They learn to be comfortable in public while lying and having a false identity. These people then fake their death and later re-emerge as someone else, usually in the news business.(My favorite so far – Razzle becomes Brian Williams. The irony is delicious, as news readers take themselves so seriously.)
Gwen Ifill was such a person, as evidence that follows will indicate. When I learned of her death, I contacted Straight and offered this project to him, since she is his discovery. But he is wrapped up on other very interesting research.
So here it is: Minnie Riperton, the R&B singer of the 70s, faked her death in 1979, and reappeared later as Gwen Ifill. She has now died again, but this time it appears real.
I woke up this morning to a link in my email box to the following article:
It’s a long article from The Intercept, an online investigative journalism site founded in 2014 to act as an outlet for the documents made public by Edward Snowden. Its founders are Betsy Reed, Glenn Greenwald, and Jeremy Scahill. Its funding comes from EBay founder Pierre Omidyar.
The address of the Long Lines Building, code-named “Titanpointe” by NSA (says the article), is 33 Thomas Street. Get it? “33?” That’s code, the highest order achieved in Scottish Rite of Freemasonry. Why, that building is full of spooks, and is up to no good! Photos of the building show it to be dark and foreboding, right out of Ghostbusters.
And indeed, it might be. At this point my fellow writers here, Straight and Daddieuhoh and Tyrone, are thinking “Mark, it’s early in Colorado. Have your coffee! Open your eyes.”