Episode 47
NSA Versus the Cloud-Busters Gang
Part 3
By Don Croft <terminator3@turbonet.com>
http://educate-yourself.org/dc/adc47Cpart07dec02.shtml
December 7, 2002
San Diego
Cbswork got about forty new tower busters together for us for Thursday
so we could continue LAARP's campaign toward San Diego. Somebody else
would have done that, but we wanted to contribute some more toward their
comprehensive effort on our way to meet Marc Melton, the notorious Agent
M2. I'll get a word or two in here about our meeting with James and
Rose Mary Hughes in Ashland, Oregon, on our way home from California [Part
4].
What struck us was the savage nature of the energy of San Diego, which
hasn't had the good fortune to experience LAARPs healing endeavors. Marc
is the only person in that whole wide metropolitan area who has a cloudbuster,
to the best of our knowledge, and his ceaseless efforts since his arrival
on the forum late last summer had only made a dent in the overall deadening
energy field there.
We were rather disoriented by all that dead orgone and were caught off
guard because we'd already gotten accustomed to the relatively mellow ambience
of Los Angeles (I swear I'd never have expected to put 'mellow' in the same
sentence as 'Los Angeles').
Marc is a joy to be around, though, so our trepidation was completely
offset by his scintillating presence. Here's a guy who really puts
his money where his mouth is, too, and has proven his willingness to enter
the dragon's mouth with nothing to back him up but his own faith and native
abilities. We were glad to find that he's initiated his own approach to planetary
healing, based on energizing the lines connecting the major earth-star grid
point vortices. There's one of these major vortices very close to the
underground base in Mexico that he successfully neutralized last month and
though the regime found and removed both of the devices he so painstakingly
put there, he's already arranging to get it done permanently next time.
In pragmatic terms, when we feel that astral eyes are on us, we're probably
correct, so imagining the source of intrusion, inpaling the visitor on our
healing Succor Punch beam and then expelling
him does the job. It gets easier with each episode and that little
flicker of movement in our peripheral vision [astral entities] gets less
and less frequent if we remember to follow our instincts more carefully and
consistently.
We hope and expect that his innate gift with herbal medicine will soon
finance a widespread campaign to realize his inspired planetary healing
vision. In case you haven't tried his Uncle Earl's Elixirs, please do so
and you'll see why we don't want to be without them any more. He's always
happy to discuss his fine products if you email him at marc@uncle-earls-elixirs.com
Carol and I believe that it's okay that some of the devices in Mexico
and China were found for two reasons: the world regime now knows that
even their most cherished and secret facilities are easily found and neutralized
by our network and they're showing us that we need to pay closer attention
to the importance of psychically shielding our location from them during
our most sensitive operations. Also, this may point out the importance of
over-gifting and the notion that 'close' counts with horseshoes and hand
grenades (in this case, holy ones).
Carol's Secrets
My wife keeps some secrets from me because I have a big mouth, which is
okay because if it weren't for my big mouth we'd both be pushing up daisies
by now or strung up on some dungeon wall.
One of those secrets is her ability to make us invisible to predators,
both the physical and astral kind. My own efforts with Mr. Skull seem pretty
crude next to that, though Mr. Skull has no peer in certain other applications.
Our success in eluding the feds for all that time can be attributed to a
combination of higher intervention, Carol's skills and the ineptness of the
fed stalkers. If I can get more specific instructions out of this I'll
share it with you, but it's still pretty new to me, so all I can do is report
what we experienced for now.
Cbswork told us that when he asked his Succor Punch to make him invisible
to predators it was a problem in traffic because so many people there are
predators that he had to drive Very Defensively before he thought to modify
his request and apply it only to the alleged government's own stalkers.
At least one fedmobile came close to colliding with us on a freeway in
LA last week. I had to slam on my brakes when he changed lanes to
where our car was.
Mr. Skull
To the best of my knowledge, the entity who brought me that crystal skull
and inspired me to put a mobius coil around his head like a hippie headband
is Hermes, the originator of the sciences who is revered by Freemasons as
their pre-Egyptian founder. I think the Theosophy folks call him Hilarion,
though the guy they're calling by that name is probably a ringer, just
one of the dark masters in astral costume, as is St. Germain, in my opinion.
I'm certainly not prepared to defend my assessment, but it feels right
to me. They're great guns on using ringers for damn near everything,
which will be apparent if they try to trot that psychopath, Prince William, out onto the
world stage as the return of Jesus Christ ;-)
Most psychics are rather uncomfortable in the presence of Mr. Skull,
and some have intimated that there's some dark force at work in there.
I wonder if that reticence has something to do with the raw power that Mr.
Skull represents. I heard a story one time about some Kabbalistic adepts
who accessed the force of Creation. Most of them were literally destroyed
by the power, but the only one who wasn't affected by it was the one who
didn't want personal power.
Carol liked it better before I put the mobius headband on, but I figure
that if you're going to a streetbrawl it's a good idea to bring along a dirty
fighter, since ALL on the opposing team are dirty fighters. If you new agers
want to engage in these fisticuffs, you'd better wear a tin cup because
your high mindedness and collegiate style will probably cause you to leave
your vitals unprotected. Talking about love and fuzzy things won't stop
them from going for the gonads, you can bet. I wish I could count the
number of times I've had to hold the hands (via email) of the new agers in
this campaign who have engaged the regime on the field and were surprised
that the regime fights back after they've just disabled a few of their million-dollar
deathforce transmitters. I get a kick out of the ones who expect the
NSA/CIA to honor their 'non-aggression' entreaties after the fact ;-)
Mr. Skull and my Doppelgangster are apparently old buddies, so they work
well together and I'm not naïve enough to assume they need my supervision
once they've agreed to take on another human target.
Love can take many forms. It may be a stretch for you to accept
that I can love Jay Rockefeller while I subject him to the double whammy
of Mr. Skull and my Doppelgangster but I don't see a contradiction.
After all, Jay's
upper chakras are probably getting a good workout for the first time
since he was first ritually abused as a small boy in an effort to get the
poor little bugger's higher chakras shut down and everyone wins when we play
this game.
Reptilian Testimonials?
I wish those old Draconians who now occasionally ask for a dose from my
Succor Punch would write a testimonial for me so I wouldn't have to contend
with you Love and Light guys any more. They were the scariest predators, by
far, when we first got started with our cloudbuster two years ago. Condoleza
Rice, with human infant blood dripping from her chin, looks like a warm-hearted
schoolmarm next to these guys. Imagine a stretched out version of Richard
Gephart on crack cocaine (Prozac?) and with an attitude and you have an
approximation of what these alien fellows' merciless aspect was. Now
they're not so bad to have around. I bet they know some terrific stories
and jokes.
After visiting Marc we had just enough time to finish our assignment
in LAARP's proprietary campaign and get to a motel for the night in Temecula.
Carol was pretty exhausted from spending two nights in Glendale's
CIA Central (Days Inn) so that night she slept very well. The feds
didn't find the car until early morning. They lost it again as soon
as Carol renewed her spell, of course.
Orange County, California
We drove over to Capistrano (returning, as it were, like the salmon ;-)
) on the way to see Ken and did some more work for LAARP on the way, since
nobody would be likely to drive along this mountain highway anytime soon.
We weren't able to spot Palomar, but Carol could see that the energy
coming off the mountain was vibrant and clean, still, from Cbswork's efforts
there. Capistrano must have a cloudbuster because everyone we saw had a
smile and the atmosphere there was pristine.
We called Ken Adachi after we arrived in Orange County. At
one point, in Newport Beach, we were walking along the street while getting
an oil change and a fed in a spy-tech work truck made a U-turn right in
front of us in an effort to locate us. The guy looked right at both
of us and didn't recognize us. We had let our guard down for a bit
before we stopped at Jiffy Lube and a quiet chopper spotted us and started
circling. Carol did the invisibility ritual and the chopper flew aimlessly
away, then we started seeing a plethora of fedmobiles while the car was
in the shop and we did the tourist thing along the waterfront. That
was fun.
Ken told us to meet him by an oriental market and we thought, 'Oh, great-look
for a small, middle aged oriental man at an oriental market!' But we recognized
him right away somehow.
He took us to a Japanese Restaurant in Costa Mesa and there were two
feds in the booth close to the door when we arrived, so we abandoned the
notion that we'd have any privacy. Ken puts all of our stuff on his
popular site, www.educate-yourself.org, and in our view that makes him
a close ally. Though he might not acknowledge it, he's sacrificed
a lot over the years to inform humanity to the best of his ability (that's
saying a great deal). I got the Joe Cell information
from his site a few months before we made a cloudbuster, and I know he's
been on the cutting edge longer than we have.
I get the sense that all of us who are now waking up want, more than
anything else, to be free of the old constraints that have been imposed
on us, practically since birth, by the world regime. I suspect there are
many paths one can take to get out of this maze, but Carol and I have chosen
to demolish the maze itself rather than just to escape from it.
Ken's provided every bit of information at his disposal to assist all
of us in our efforts to win this global spiritual war and information has
taken the place of bullets in this campaign. A bullet is only useful if it
reaches its target and information is only useful if it can be applied to
a constructive solution, so it's up to each of us to 'educate ourselves'
these days. Other sites focus on problems, only, and the net effect
is that they lead us to feel discouraged and even hopeless in the face of
the mountain of dilemmas, most of which were created solely by the world
regime. Ken's efforts are applied in the direction of finding solutions
to the Big Problems that the other sites only whine about. I think
he deserves a medal for that and certainly not a posthumous one.
Although he does this mostly without giving a thought to his own personal
advantage, I hope that anyone who wants a Terminator
will buy one from him rather than from Carol and I, since this will offset,
in a small way, some of the sacrifices he makes daily to keep us all informed
and up to speed.
The Perils of Eavesdropping
A funny thing happened when we were saying goodbye to Ken in the vicinity
of the oriental market: I got an urge to show him my spudgun, so I took it out of the trunk, loaded the
chamber with propellent (Right Guard
deodorant, the brown can, works best and leaves no residue-it even smells
good after you fire it off) and ignited it, which produced a satisfying BOOM
that turned everyone's head for a quarter mile around, but not before
I got it secreted back into the car's trunk.
Carol immediately walked over to a fedmobile that was half-hidden a hundred
yards away. When she got back she said that an NSA fellow in that
car was listening to us all through one of those distant-sound isolators
and
amplifiers with headphones when I set off the spudgun, but he scooted
posthaste after I blasted the thing and he saw Carol coming. She made
sure he saw her wave at him before he left. I bet his ears are still
ringing from that Greatly Amplified spudgun explosion.
Carol had pointed out most of the feds who were around when we were with
Ken. Like everyone else, he'd never noticed them before. It's quite a shock
to all of us when we first realize just how utterly molested our
privacy is, which is why Carol and I relish the times when we're completely
free of surveillance, as when we're in our home and occasionally when we're
out on patrol. I think we're all heading to a time, soon to come, when
we'll be able to easily disable all surveillance, even the psychic hacking
that accesses us through our old mental programming. Of course, potheads
and drunks won't ever experience this until they've overcome their addictions.
Until then, they're all simply walking videocams and unwitting agents of
the regime and we avoid closely associating with them, if possible, for that
reason.
Road Rage
We left Ken around 5:30PM and it took us two hours to drive through Los
Angeles along Interstate 5 on the way to San Francisco. We didn't bother
counting the fedmobiles that were out looking for us, but that's when one
of them nearly ran me off the road. The succession went like this as we drove
through their designated jurisdictions: a chump part-time fed in his
own cheap car would scurry by us, then a regulation fedmobile or two, then
a SAIC in a very expensive car with blacked-out windows all aorund would
hurry by, attempting to do what his flunkies had failed to accomplish. That
happened two or three times by the time we reached the San Joaquin Valley.
They had a pretty good idea we were going to see Stuart by now to hand him
the chemtrail documentary
CD.
It was 11PM by the time we got to a stopping place and we didn't expect
the feds not to find our car by this point because they had apparently made
it a top priority and had put damn near everyone who could drag himself across
the floor out to find us. When Carol goes to sleep the invisibility spell
wears pretty thin.
Calling Card, 'Goodfellows' Style
An hour later, I went out to get something out of the car and found an
oil spill under the engine that ran to a low spot in the pavement and pooled.
I was too tired to deal with it and it was apparently no longer spilling
out, so I just went back to bed.
The next morning there was only a faint trace of the spilled oil and
even the pool had been wiped up. I knew that oil doesn't just absorb into
sealed pavement that way and when Carol got to the car she said, "A guy just
stopped me by the soda machine just now and made a point of telling me what
a beautiful morning it was. When he was talking, I saw an image of
him trying to put a bomb in the car last night, but having failed because
you showed up and rattled him pretty badly. I simply told him,
'What you did last night didn't work,' and walked away." Then I showed
her the traces of the spilled oil.
I got in the car and turned the ignition key, not yet connecting what
she just told me with what I was seeing. She later told me that when
she was sitting in the passenger seat she held her breath, half expecting
it to be her last. He'd obviously sat in the driver seat the night
before because Mr. Skull, who was standing upright behind the lumbar support
pillow after I got out the night before, was on his side when I opened the
door and moved the pillow. I bet Mr. Skull goosed that CIA murderer
when he sat down. Maybe he did it with Love and Light-who knows?
The San Joaquin valley is perpetually smog-bound and part of this
is due to the fact that the only cloudbusters are in Sacramento and Bakersfield,
as far as I know. The skies over both cities are in pretty good shape
and
there's less smog there, but somebody really needs to Do Something for
the area in which most of America's produce is grown, don't you think?
DOR Crop Water & Ritual Magicians
Though we were in a hurry, we stopped to toss a slightly buoyed Holy Handgrenade
in an irrigation canal along the way. I tape some floatation material
to the point so that it will land on its bottom, on the bottom, instead
of top down. Carol's able to get them to land upright every time in water,
but the only time I was able to do that was when Greggus took me to the spring
in the vortex on the Bohemian Grove grounds last June. I dropped it after
reaching down into the water up to my armpit. Still doubting that it landed
right, I moved aside the water weeds and saw that it did, indeed land upright
another two feet or so beyond my reach. Greggus had no doubt at all and
was amused, I think, at my lack of confidence. I don't take chances any
more and tape and plastic foam packing material is cheap and plentiful. Richard
in Reno told me that he dropped a HHg in Lake Tahoe recently after having
followed my recommendation to tape a sytrofoam ball to the point and the
whole thing just floated away. He told me that seagulls immediately
started pecking at the styrofoam and that the thing was sure to sink pretty
soon. I know of another case of seagull intervention that's pretty remarkable,
too.
When I parked, Carol received a strong warning not to get out of the
car. My insistence to her to come along and share the fun sort of overwhelmed
her better judgement, though, and a weasel crossed our path on the way to
the canal, a quarter mile away down a dirt road. Carol was immediately attacked
by a number of ritual magicians (should have paid attention to the warner,
not to me) and on the way back she twisted her ankle on level ground and
fell down. As I approached the canal, I experienced a strong 'Don't Do It!'
resonant emotion from the bad guys, so I knew, right away, that these canals
were being used to carry a LOT of concentrated dead orgone to the crops in
the fields.
I would like to spend a month in the San Joaquin Valley and the ajoining
hills and reservoirs with Carol if somebody doesn't beat us to it by next
summer.
San Francisco
The trip into the Bay Area was not remarkable except that the hundreds
of expensive wind generators in the hills east of the metro area were completely
still due to lack of wind. If anyone were to attack cloudbusters that's
probably the only conceivable chink in our armor, but of course, after all
the viable free energy devices are allowed into the marketplace without physical
risk to the inventors, those wind generators will end up in the same scrap
pile as the deathforce transmitters, so what's the fuss?
Alternative Energy, Free Energy, & Orgonite
Putting a lot of confidence in wind generators and solar panels begs the
issue that these products are only available (at an inflated price) from the
very corporations whom we hope to get our independence from by turning to
alternative energy production technology. Learning that there are always more
options than the ones presented to us by the world regime is one of the prerequisites
of waking up and taking off our PJs.
Speaking of Colonel Bearden ;-), I remember hearing him say, around
1990, that there were absolutely no viable free energy devices on the planet
at that time. Six years later I met Bill Muller, who told me his magnet
motor/generator had been perfected and widely demonstrated to professionals,
worldwide, in the late eighties and that there were at least five other
free energy devices, operating on completely different principles, that
were ready for the market by then in British Columbia, alone. Bearden
has now grandly announced that he's going to give us all 'free plans' for
his alleged free energy device. If his diagrams are as studiously indecipherable
as his speech and writing are I wonder if he's giving away anything at all
besides a good way to ignite the kindling one
time in our woodstoves. For now, I'm putting Col. Bearden, 'Free
Energy Device Inventor,' in the same category as Maitreya or Prince
William, 'The Long Awaited Return of Jesus Christ.' Ringers are as
ringers do.
I'm still patiently waiting for someone, anyone, to tell me one distinct
new principle or description gleaned from Col. Bearden's talks, books or
diagrams. I've got a high IQ, but all of his stuff is incomprehensible to
me. For my money, if something is fascinating, engrossing, illuminating,
etc., certainly one should be able to repeat, in one's own words, at least
a little bit of what he's learned from it all. Otherwise it looks like mental
programming to me, that's all-how is that any different than the periodic
assault on one's sensibilities by Oral Roberts, Guru Ram Dass or Rev. Jim
Jones?
Contrast that with what the Cbers are now doing and reporting. Orgonite
work and the related crystal and sacred geometry technology is all revolutionary
science which has loads of sensory confirmations, but anyone
can understand it on some level and it's being described in as many ways
as there are individual people doing the research. Notice that nobody's
parroting Don Croft in the process (thank Grid). As much as the New
Agers
give me the willies, I must admit that their descriptions of these processes
are at least as viable as my own.
Road Runner and Wiley Coyotes
Before crossing the San Mateo Bridge on the way to Belmont, where Stuart
lives, we stopped at a gas station to get a map. There were two fedmobiles
in the parking lot, though the occupants didn't spot us. One of the feds was
inside, easy to distinguish. I made a point of standing right behind
him at the counter and mentally trying to get him to look at me, but he just
stood there, fairly vibrating with stress and tension. He quickly left
to resume his Search Mission ;-)
'The Eagle Has Landed'
We got to Stuart's place without having called him, as we didn't want to
have a fed reception there. It took them about forty minutes to figure out
that we'd arrived, then the chopper recon flights started up. I called Jesse
Zaloudek and invited him over for the celebration, but forgot to tell him
Stuart's apartment number, so I waited for him in an adjacent parking lot.
When Jesse got there, a fed van pulled in right behind him. I waved to the
operative, expecting him to then depart, but he parked nearby and sort of
scurried toward Stuart's apartment complex, right past Jesse and I. He had
an odd grin on his face, too. Jesse got in the car and we beat the fellow
over there, but Carol said that he got so confused that he didn't cut the
phone lines or anything and simply turned around and left.
Stuart's landlady is a Wiccan sort who uses her finely honed instincts
to pick renters and it felt really nice around there. Two neighbors, a young
couple named John and Jacquelyn, are quite psychic, too, and have been watching
out on Stuart's behalf very well in a sort of symbiotic relationship with
our forum host's impressive energy contrivances, which are a very good, unique
synthesis of orgonite, sacred geometry, passive coil technology and crystals
of various sorts. We all had a very fun, ongoing 'show and tell'
session.
The CD was uploaded without hesitation by Stuart, even as I was trying
to warn him that the next 24 hours carried a strong likelihood that the
feds would break his door down and haul off his equipment and possibly beat
him up or even shoot him in the process. The underground information
site owners knew about this risk, which is why they all declined the
offer to make it available to the public. Who could blame them? You'd have
to have some intimate knowledge of how orgonite works in order to get the
confidence required to pull this off, I think..
The connection to his server was immediately cut after he posted the
announcement on the forum that the documentary was available for download.
The connection was fixed after considerable telephone interaction
with his server. It was lost again right after I posted a confirming
message a few minutes later. This time the server was less willing to cooperate
and was trying to pass the buck to the phone company, so Carol and I asked
Stuart to put his cannon-scale Succor Punch to work on the person who was
really responsible.
He envisioned a black-suited man who was supervising some semi-conscious
techies at computer terminals and he lit the Man in Black up with healing
orgone. By the time we looked again, the connection was re-established
and as far as I know the forum hasn't missed a beat since then. An hour
or so later there were seventy people throughout the globe already downloading
the documentary to their own computers. I think we're the only people on
record who are going after the Men in Black these days. What else can one
do you do with a Mortician With Attitude? Do they realize how laughable
they all are? They do drive awfully nice cars, though-not at all like
the Ford Police Officer Special in the movie.
We all walked to a nearby restaurant in high spirits to celebrate and
when we walked though the dining area I was struck by the number of people
who looked directly at us all with forlorn expressions, like we'd sat on
their
Caesar salads or something.
Restaurant Fed
Carol counted seven NSA and CIA agents in that restaurant, including our
waitress, as I mentioned. I put Mr. Skull on the table as a sort of
centerpiece and a lot of the noise in the restaurant (they weren't all feds,
of course-most of the folks there were happy and it was as noisy as a German
beerhall) instantly got many decibels lower for some reason.
Jesse had picked out several of the pavement artists, even one who
passed us on the sidewalk on the way to the restaurant, though he wasn't
looking as systematically as Carol was. I told Jesse he needs to have more
confidence in his considerable abilities. I had only picked out a couple
for sure-the two who were staring at me the most openly and accusingly on
our way to our table.
Here's a good spot to mention a time anomaly experience that two people
had while out busting towers. It wasn't one of these folks, but I want you
to know about it. These two guys-I can vouch for the character of the one
who told me-were driving down a city freeway and suddenly the city itself
vanished, replaced by farmland. Also, the median strip was covered
with oleander bushes. This lasted several minutes, during which both men
were considering the implications of never seeing their kids again, then
it all changed back right before their highway exit came up.Later on, one
of them was told that when the freeway was built, in the late forties,
there
was no city there and the median strip was planted in oleander bushes.
Was that a non-sequitur? Who knows, eh? ;-)
Carol told us that December 6 is represented by the Queen of Clubs, which
stands for successful communication. The planetary ruling card associated
with the Queen of Clubs is the Ace of Spades, which stands for 'the truth
hidden behind the illusion.' It's also my birth card, which may explain
why I'm so driven to reveal the man standing behind the curtain (Gosh, is
that St. Germain? ;-)). It's also Jeff Baggaley's birth card, and Princess
Diana's.
I see this is nine pages already. I'll write Part Four and that
should finish it.
All information posted on this web site is
the opinion of the author and is provided for educational purposes only.
It is not to be construed as medical advice. Only a licensed medical doctor
can legally offer medical advice in the United States. Consult the healer
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