We are completing a circuit from our home to Montana and through Yellowstone country, and back. On the way up last week we stopped at Subway in Casper, Wyoming. Later that day I realized I was missing my money clip, and by mentally backtracking supposed I had left it at that Subway. As I said to my wife, “Well it’s a bad day for me, but a good day for someone else!” I thought the clip had about $160 in it.

I assumed it was lost forever, as it had no name on it, and, well, frankly, Wyoming seems like an impoverished place. We only see the highway dives, but it has a trailer court feel about it. But stopping by Subway again today, I asked if they had a lost and found. The young gal asked if I had found something, and I said no. I had lost a money clip. Her eyes lit up and she was excited, said someone had turned it in. My lucky day!

They had to summon the manager, as the clip was in the safe, so we went for coffee. On returning, we learned that someone pretending to be my wife had come in the following day and asked if anyone had found a money clip containing $137. She said that her husband had lost it and was just sick. They turned it over to her. The Subway manager really was just sick that they had been scammed, but that is the end of the story. We kindly thanked her and her staff for their effort, and we left.

What we know now is what we knew before – there is desperation in Wyoming. Such trouble to what … split $137? Further, the fact that the woman claiming to be my wife knew the clip had $137 in it means that someone inside that store worked the con with her. How many people know exactly how much money they have on them at any time? This will be a fatal error, I am afraid, as the manager intends to get to the bottom of it. Not for our sake, of course. She thinks she has a bad apple on staff, but did not say that.

I am like most people … Losing $137 is painful, but not earth shattering. And I was so pleased at the attitude of they Subway staff – they were all (except one) honest, and the person who found it and turned it in was too. That pleases me, and does not surprise me.

Later, driving down the highway, we were talking about the incident. The manager is going to review her surveillance tapes to get a look the woman who claimed to be my wife. My real wife laughed, threw up her arms and said “You know what? The tape will be erased!”

Yes. There will be an eighteen minute gap.

Americans are censored in their thoughts and words. The heavy hand is all around us. It is such an effective system that few are aware of it. If a person has never have had a thought worth censoring, why would he know about it?

We are indoctrinated from birth, schooled by people as deeply mired in the system as ourselves. We are  lied to in every aspect of our lives, with every corner of our mind filled with fiddle faddle. How would we know? North Koreans laugh at us. Censorship is so thorough that we are isolated from the rest of the planet.

I am among the lucky ones who have broken free. I know other people like me, and that is where I do most of my thinking and interacting. People I deal with are smart and insightful, usually more so than me, so that I am always on a learning curve. Every day brings new insights and discoveries. That is fun.

But an incident like the fake shootings in Orlando to reminds me how isolated we are, how deep in the muck the rest of the population is. It seems a hopeless situation when we see that Americans are putty in the hands of TV news and social media.

Americans are under hypnosis, in a deep trance. This land is an intellectual desert with nothing but sand and hot air for miles in every direction.

What then is the point? If the population under a deep spell, will it ever change? It is hard to know, but seems unlikely. There has to be another reason to stay on top of things and away from control of the propaganda system.

I have my head above water, and can see more than others … and  that is freedom. I am nobody’s fool, under no spell. I see clearly. The word “freedom” has been sullied. Like “republican,” “democracy,” “choice,” “election,” it is overused and never really understood. If a person has never lived free, how to explain it? It is like explaining chess to a child who only knows Chutes and Ladders.

But I have freedom of thought and inquiry, and so do my friends. We cannot bring others over to see things our way.  That has to happen internally, and is rare.

This is the American way.

Note to readers: This post is about Sam Cooke and Louis Farrakhan, written in 2016 by Tyrone McCloskey and me – I did the photo work. At that time (2016) I was seeing twins, and identified Sam Cooke as a set. I later backed away from such things, as I was seeing too many. I settled on maybe half a dozen, which included Rihanna, Drake, McCartney, Janis Joplin, Anderson Cooper. Drake and Rihanna are because I had photos of the two together. However, this could explain why I had such trouble working with Cooke last week, that I was unknowingly dealing with two of them, one of which would line up, the other not. This is how we discovered the Joplin twins, and I am very sure about that work.

I completely spaced this out, and have forgotten doing the work back then. Tyrone remembered.

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Note to Reader: This blog post has been put “under review” as we have had growing pains in developing the technology we use to identify twins, replicas and zombies. The eyes behind the technology are getting better, so as you read this piece note that if you are troubled by its conclusions that we will be looking at it in more depth and with better eyes. For the time being, it is speculation.

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Tyrone wrote: A while ago, while Mark was still on vacation, I took a look at photos of Sam Cooke and wondered which pundit he might have become. Of course he would be a zombie because he fit the basic criteria: Musical star, dead at 33 (Ca-Ching!), his death being sensational tabloid fodder but made no logical sense. He was also a business man and had secured an agreement with future Beatle handler Alan Klein to mint money for his efforts. Naturally, after Cooke’s death, Klein controlled the posthumous windfall. Where that money actually went is of no concern because these assets are wage slaves, I’ll wager, and they never expected royalties. They are, indeed, very well paid wage slaves, but these are basically pensioners, not investors.

Not even playing a hunch but just off the top of my head and expecting to have to go through a list of suspects, I started with Louis Farrakhan as the possible zombie. He was the right age and an opinion maker, to say the least. Not exactly one of the house Toms at FOX, but a paid pain in the ass for the Intel circus known as the Nation of Islam. He was also an accomplished musician. Well, since I’m no master of the split personality portrait, I threw it out to Mark, Straight and friends to run these two, Cooke and Farrakhan, to see if there was a chance.

Ding Ding Ding! Mark posted quickly that it was a match. This zombie, however, was further back in queue, so only now are we presenting.

Continue reading “Louie, your goose is cooked-“ →

If you wanna find out what’s behind these cold eyes
You’ll just have to claw your way through this disguise.

Part of the propaganda thrust behind the fake moon landing psy-op were these words:

We choose to go to the Moon! … We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win …

This past year has for me been one of forward movement after years of beating the bushes looking for rabbits in a land where the rabbits actually live in caves. I never imagined  I would know who killed JFK. I thought with his moon speech that he had been misled by people around him.

That speech was deliberate scripted incentive to make that fake program go forward. After Dallas, we were honoring a fallen hero. It was intended as such.  I suspect that one of the men watching the fake television transmissions of the fake landing was JFK. He was in Hyanisport, perhaps on Chappaquiddick, on a yacht in the Mediterranean, or perhaps on an island near Greece.

The only reason that I cannot know for sure if he lived to see the fakery to its conclusion is that he might have died of natural causes, Addison’s Disease among his ailments. John F. Kennedy, I now realize, was a phony of historic proportions, a lying psychopath with an unusual gift for fake charm, even portraying a real human being.

But set him aside. Understanding him is for me the key to the postwar era. Everything, all of the major events of my life, were fake, or were hidden behind a shroud. There were no moon landings, the assassinations were fake, Martin Luther King was a fraud, as were Reagan, Clinton, and now of course Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders. It is ongoing, so proper movement is forward, not backward.

I’ve been beating around this bush for a while now. The fake death of John Lennon and discovery of the McCartney twins left me in a state of flux, ready to take a quantum leap, but frightened as well. I know ridicule awaits. Even though it is a peanut gallery, I still hear the insults. My saving grace is that I can give as well as take. I have savaged people in debate, so if you want a piece of me, bring a first aid kit. You will be wounded.

Dealing with ridicule is merely a test of character. Since I believe in me, and have read and wandered and questioned far more than anyone I know, I am in a place few will ever access. I can sympathize with my critics, and at the same time sigh a relieving sigh, a “fuck you” in response. You cannot know what you do not know unless you ask the right questions, and so far, most of you have not done so. Until you do, you will not break through the veil.

It is easy now to look about, understand the nature of the fake political contest before us, see that David Bowie and Prince recently faked their deaths, that votes are not even counted for real, that our music and movies and news are all scripted to keep us thinking (or failing to think) alike. I have stopped now and then to marvel at how mundane life on this planet is without the fake events! We are all mostly just living our lives quietly, trying to stay afloat. The mass shootings,  serial killers, assassinations, accidental deaths of prominent people … fake, fake, fake, fake.

War and poverty … real. Avoidable, but real.

I am in this place, but did not intend to travel here. The freedom is exhilarating. The lack of insight of almost all around me is exasperating. But life is fun.