I have written elsewhere about my upbringing in Westfield, New Jersey, the hub of satanic activity in which I grew up.
New Jersey is full of MK-ULTRA activity, from Mischief Night, a destructive holiday that does not exist in other parts of the country, to the Jersey Devil, which seems to be some sort of mind control experiment.
There’s good reason why the sports teams from the local high school, in Westfield, New Jersey, are called the Blue Devils. Here’s one of their logos….
In my home town, Westfield, New Jersey, Charles Addams was born. He drew the Addams Family comics, which later became a t.v. show, full of satanic signaling. He vacationed at Cape May, where we went to the beach, and he based his drawings on a house there.
The Addams Family seemed campy and ridiculous, and we all watched it; but the jokes were sick, and there were frequent invocations of satanism and torture.
Gomez just didn’t look right, although everyone thought he was cool.
What’s more, Uncle Fester looked suspiciously like Aleister Crowley, the satanist reputed to have sired Barbara Bush, who kept her child’s foetus in a jar.
George Bush, whose crimes are untold, died a day before the anniversary of Crowley’s death. As my friend Andrea Davison, formerly of MI6, told me, satanists have a thing about killing their own, and they seem to do it on special days.
In the 1960s and 1970s, there was a lot of satanism on t.v. and the movies.
Dark Shadows is only one example, which schoolchildren raced home to watch. It featured zombies, man-made monsters, and a parallel universe–the hallmarks of MK-ULTRA.
An older example was Bell, Book, & Candle, which Fritz Springmeier and Cisco Wheeler discuss in their seminal works on Illuminati mind control. Here you can see hypnosis and sexual slavery in action.
As late as the 1980s, films with Vincent Price were a staple on the back channels.
Then there was Bewitched, which picked up a satanic theme. I have a strange affinity for this one, which makes me think it was used on me. Certainly, it reminds me of the suburban environment of the 1970s, and I remember seeing it on television.
In Westfield, when I was two years old, a ritual satanic murder occurred only six miles from our house. There was a lot of satanic activity in Watchung Reservation.
I grew up right across the street from Wychwood, the best neighborhood in town, which, given some of our neighbors, looks suspicious. For starters, aside from its name, and its proximity to a satanic ritual site, Wychwood had its sign: a witch riding a broom.
Wychwood reminds me of Arden, Delaware, a Luciferian community, not far from my later home in Pennsylvania, where the bloodline families of DuPont and Harriman preside.
At the foot of Wychwood stood a spooky gatehouse. Years later, a fire tore through it. Although it was deemed an accident, one of the owners, Courtney Schael, was arrested for aggravated assault, resisting arrest, and interfering with administration of law. She bit one police officer, and kicked two others, as she was dragged from the scene, while the fire company tried to extinguish the blaze. That’s the kind of insane behavior that indicates mind control–not only by satanists but by the CIA.
As a small boy, I was friends with a girl from Wychwood, who started acting promiscuously at a young age, pulling up her shirt and showing boys the beginnings of her breasts for no apparent reason. I have seen this behavior in others who were subject to mind control. What’s more, we both attended Christopher Academy, the oldest Montessori school in New Jersey, at which I was sexually abused by CIA through MK-ULTRA.
I don’t know if my friend went to any of the YMCA sports camps, but I was drugged, hypnotized, and abused at the soccer camp held at Linden High School, Union, New Jersey, from 1976 to 1978.
For my programming, CIA used Wonder Woman, not to mention Rhodesia, and I later acquired personal knowledge of the Dylann Roof shooting in Charleston, South Carolina.
This was completely unfair to Rhodesia, not to mention South Africa, which were great countries, beset by the New World Order. With the farm attacks in South Africa and the destruction of Rhodesia, these once beautiful lands have become a horror show. There is an ongoing genocide against whites in Zimbabwe and South Africa.
When CIA broke into my house on June 17, 2015, a Grande Dame of the Illuminati told me CIA would poison elephants in Zimbabwe, formerly Rhodesia, on her orders. Later I read how elephants were poisoned with strychnine. Satanists kill animals for no reason. That’s the kind of trash we’re dealing with.
Back in Westfield, I had another friend who lived three doors down. She suffered under MK-ULTRA. The scum at CIA killed her pet rabbit, almost as soon as she got it. Her parents blamed the children, which was unfair, and there was a suggestion that a dog did it.
“You must have left the hutch open. Or maybe it was your sister. It must have been a dog.”
My parents told me there was something very serious they wanted to talk to me about. They asked me about our black labrador retriever, “Was Ribbons out last night? Did you let her out?”
Usually, I am very forthright, so, even now, my answer strikes me as odd: “I don’t know. I think so. It’s kind of cloudy. I might have. I don’t know. Someone told me to do it.”
“No one told you to do it. Be serious. No one’s been here. I didn’t tell you to do it.”
“No, they told me to say that to you.”
“It’s just his imagination.”
“Look. We’re not going to talk about this. It will cause a misunderstanding. If anyone asks, Ribbons was in, okay? The whole night. You didn’t let her out.”
That’s the satanic trash at CIA through and through. They torture and kill a little girl’s rabbit. Then they try to turn her against herself, her family, and her neighbors. That’s the program all over.
That was only one scene from my childhood. I am writing a book now, which I hope to publish this summer, describing the first twenty-two years of my fight against MK-ULTRA.
I didn’t remember for a long time, partly because CIA gives scopolamine to their victims. The truth serum stops memories from even forming. It deprives subjects of willpower, making them vulnerable to suggestions. This is only one of many drugs available to our abusers.
Some of the memories that come back to me concern my childhood reading. A lot of it suggests the program.
I had a hard time dealing with rabbit, so the scum commanded me, “Later on you’ll read a book about it.”
That drew me to Richard Adams’s Watership Down. But when I told my programmers years later that I had found the book about the rabbit–“the rabbit you killed”–they had no idea what I was talking about.
Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH told the story of experimental lab rats who escaped from the National Institute of Mental Health, a front for CIA activity. In the video below, NIMH advertises its manipulation of memory.
Then there was Roald Dahl’s James and the Giant Peach, which terrified me by suggesting the death of my parents, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which seems truly creepy.
Most people think of Dahl as a children’s author, but he was an MI6 agent paid to have promiscuous sex with countless female targets. Is this a man you would trust with your children?
A.A. Milne, who wrote Winnie the Pooh, looks even creepier.
I never read Through the Looking Glass or Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, which were written by a masonic child molester. The video below is only one of several sources that describe the use of them in MK-ULTRA.
Instead, I watched Disney’s Alice in Wonderland. Many have been abused at Disneyland, and Disney World, including Susan Ford. Disney is never good.
The Phantom Tollbooth is another book I read, which has MK-ULTRA written all over it. A magic tollbooth transports the lead character into another world, just as Lucy enters Narnia in the fantasy books of C.S. Lewis, or Jack and Annie spin to other worlds in The Magic Treehouse. Spinning is always bad.
The Phantom Tollbooth contains puns and wordplay, which characterize MK-ULTRA programming. Critics have compared the book not only to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, but to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, which is heavily used in MK-ULTRA programming. All these books involve travel to other worlds, alternative realities, which parallel a hypnotic subject’s passage from one state of consciousness to the next.
What came back recently, though, were memories of abuse regarding Madeleine L’Engle’s books, A Wrinkle in Time, Wind in the Door, and A Swiftly Tilting Planet.
As I look at these books now, I cannot believe how much cartel signaling I see, although it shouldn’t surprise me. I have written articles elsewhere about cartel signaling and its presence in popular culture and real life. The scum at CIA can’t resist showing off, advertising their abuse of others, and giving away their secrets. It is only one aspect of their stupidity, which will cause their downfall.
A Wrinkle in Time, Wind in the Door, and Swiftly Tilting Planet are all about synthetic telepathy, cybernetic implants, hypnosis, travel to different worlds, and threats to one’s parents. In the first book, Meg and Charles look for their missing father. With the aid of a tesseract, which folds space and time, they travel to other worlds, which include a dark planet where their father is prisoner. The inhabitants act mechanically, as a single mind controls them. The planet’s headquarters is called Central Intelligence, just like the agency that destroyed my life, and it houses a telepath who casts hypnotic spells.
In A Wrinkle In Time, Charles looks into the eyes of the evil telepath who runs Central Intelligence, since he believes he must be hypnotized to find his father. His father is held prisoner because he will not submit to the group mind. The children come close to IT, an evil disembodied brain that can control their minds, but Meg defeats IT by loving her brother. Later books describe kything, which is a form of telepathic communication. From the references to Central Intelligence, to the hypnotism, to the use of synthetic telepathy, to the attack on the family, I cannot imagine a better description of MK-ULTRA.
L’Engle’s books made me feel very uncomfortable, and now I understand why. They were all about MK-ULTRA, the computerized mind control run by CIA and facilitated by hypnosis, which now influences the entire world. What’s more, my enemy used them against me, as they strove to normalize voice-to-skull transmissions and person-to-person hypnosis.
Below is my memory of hypnotic sessions, under MK-ULTRA, with my tormentors. Their language was fouler, and it has grown fouler since; and they often used my name, a common feature of hypnosis, which I have omitted. Otherwise, this is an accurate transcript of an MK-ULTRA session, using drugs and hypnosis, on a child from 1979, where, having failed at their attempts to promote rape, my programmers pushed homosexuality and pedophilia on a nine-year-old.
“All right, we’re going to try something. We’re going to do kything. Do you know what that is?”
“Like in Wrinkle in Time?”
“Actually it’s in the other one. Wind in the Door. See if you can do it with him.”
“I don’t want to do it. That book scares me. There’s something in it I don’t like. It’s what you threatened. The father’s dead. He’s somewhere else. I don’t like it. It’s like what happened in bed. He was there, and he was gone. It’s like that other book I don’t like. James and the Giant Peach. Where the parents die.”
“No one cares what you like. You have to do this for me. He’ll hurt you if you don’t obey.”
“I don’t care about me. Hurt me if you want. I’m not scared. You can all go to hell.”
“I don’t know what to do about him. Look, Rick, what do you think?”
“Just give him the shot. We’ll do it later.”
At this point, I faded out. When I came back, I heard them talking.
“All right. Let’s try it again. Where’s his mother?”
“She’s in the other room. Get her in here.”
“I can’t she’s too heavy. She’s out cold. I can’t wake her. You gave her too much.”
“You try it with him. Do what you did before. I don’t care what you do. Just make him compliant.”
As the female degenerate sexually assaulted me, I fought back.
“Get off me! Get off me! Stop touching me there! That’s not right!”
“I need your help. He’ll hurt me if you don’t comply. I need you to save me.”
“Go to hell. You’re no different than he is. I don’t want to see you anymore. Go away. I don’t like you, woman. Go away!”
Again I faded out; and, when I came to, the scum were still at me.
“Who do you like in that book? Who do you like in that book? Who do you like in Wrinkle in Time? Who do you like in Wind in the Door?”
“Is it Meg? Tell me you like Meg, and we’ll find someone like her. Tell me you like Meg, and we’ll go away.”
“I like Charles. I like Charles. I don’t like her. She’s okay, I guess, but not in the way you mean, you liar. I like Charles.”
“Jesus Christ, he likes boys. I told you we should have put him in the other room.”
“That’s not what he means. He just won’t go with you. He won’t go with me at this point either.”
“Why do you like Charles so much? Do you want to see him naked?”
“What are you talking about? He’s just smart. He’s like me. He wears glasses I think. I’d like a pair of those. I can’t see the board at school. I need glasses to see. Mother says, the doctor says, I don’t need them because I don’t complain. Still, I’d like to see someday. Like Chrissy.”
“Jesus, Chrissy again. We tried that before. She was supposed to be Wonder Woman, but it didn’t work. Now it’s back to Chrissy.”
“Why do you like Chrissy?”
“I don’t. She’s okay, but I just like her glasses. Glasses like hers. Like Wonder Woman’s, remember? I want what Wonder Woman has. Like you told me.”
“Jesus Christ, this is never going to work. Just let him go.”
“All right, fine. Ask him some more questions about Charles, and we’ll see where we get.”
“Why do you like Charles?”
“I don’t. I like Meg. That’s the answer, right? Like in school. You said to manipulate him.”
“What is he talking about? You bitch! You’re playing games with him again, aren’t you?”
“I’m not playing games. Look. Sometimes I have to say things like that to him to get him on my side. It’s how it works. It’s what you said to do.”
“All right. Fine. But don’t mess around.”
“Tell me what you like about Charles so much.”
“Nothing. He has glasses, I guess.”
“What else, son? Think. I need an answer here.”
“Well. Charles. Charles is what we’re talking about, right?”
“Jesus, yes, Charles. I’m losing my patience here. Tell me about Charles. Tell me what you like about him.”
“He wears glasses. I want some of them. Can you get me some?”
“Jesus. Fine. Fine. Fine. You’ll have glasses, but only if you tell me more about Charles.”
“It’s me, dear. I need your help with him. Remember what we said?”
“What? About manipulation?”
“Yeah. Manipulation. I need your help to manipulate him. He’ll hurt me if you don’t.”
“I don’t care about you. You’re just as bad as him. I saw what you did. I saw what you did to my mother. I heard you talking about her. Where’s my dad? I want to tell him something.”
“You can’t see him right now. Tell me about Charles, and I’ll let you go. Do you like him? Do you want to sleep with him?”
“What are you talking about? Charles is brave. He’s smart. I need to be brave like him. I’m not scared of you. Or him for that matter. Go to hell, you bitch!”
“All right. That’s it. Take him down to seven. Then take him back out again. I want to hear from his conscious mind.”
Again I phased out….
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Something’s not right. Something’s not right. I need to remember.”
“All right. Good enough. Put him out.”
Again I phased out, and the idiots kept at me with their insistent homosexual suggestions, completely alien to me, and based on a book I did not like.
“What do you like about Charles? Think. Think. I need your best answer. Like in school.”
“Charles is brave. Meg is brave, too. They work together. I can’t do that with my brother, Mike. Like with Jill. Maybe with Jill.”
“You told me to play with her, remember?”
“Oh yeah. The girl next door.”
“Why don’t you remember? You told me to play with her, you dunce.”
“You mustn’t talk to him that way. He’s with me, remember?”
“Oh, all right. Look, I’m tired. Do you think you could go away, and we could try this tomorrow. I need to sleep for school.”
“Today’s Saturday. Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“All right. Fine. It’s the weekend. You don’t have to get up. You can sleep in.”
“I never do that. I always get up at six and read the encyclopedia. Sometimes I watch Looney Tunes. Sometimes I play with my brother. We used to play Legos.”
“Fine. Legos. Fine. We’ll play that sometime, okay?”
“I don’t want to play Legos. It’s what we used to play. Don’t Break The Ice. That was a good one, too. Early morning we’d play together. That was fun.”
“Yeah. Yeah. It was fun. Fun. Okay. Fun. One more question, though. Charles. Charles. Charles in the book. Not some other Charles. Not something else. Charles. What do you like about him? Do you like him sexually?”
“What are you talking about? He’s a boy. He’s a little kid. That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Charles. Charles. Charlie Boy. Charles. What do you like about him?”
At this point, I refused to answer, so the idiot came back at me.
“Do you hear me? Answer my question.”
“You already asked it. You said one more. You asked one. That’s all you get.”
“Let me ask him. He responds better to a woman’s voice. I get one, too. Okay?”
“All right. Fine. Ask away, lady.”
“Why do you like Charles so much?”
“I don’t. I told you that. I don’t even like that book. It’s too scary. There’s something wrong with it. Something about kything I don’t like.
Here, again, I faded out, as they put me under and brought me back with a hypnotic command.
“One. Two. Three. Charles. Now. Tell me what you said before.”
“I like Charles. He wears glasses. Just like Wonder Woman. Just like Chrissy. I want those. Charles is smart. Charles is brave. Just like Meg. He looks up to her. She looks after him. They save his father together. That’s it.”
“Jesus Christ. This is impossible. There’s nothing we can do with him.”
“All right. Fine. Just go to sleep. Margaret’s going to stay here while I see to your mother.”
As they threatened my mother, I fought and screamed, “No! No! No! Stop! I need to help her. Stop! I need to help her! Stop!”
“Look, you little piece of trash. Hold still.”
“Get off me!”
“Hold him while I give him the shot.”
That’s the kind of stuff I had to put up with, although I didn’t remember. They had tried to put me and Jill together, although they didn’t even remember her name. Later they would hold us both for a short time in a facility in England, where they would come at me again, threatening my family, and using kything as code for hypnosis and, possibly, voice-to-skull. As before, CIA would collaborate with the Tavistock Institute to abuse me and my family.
Others who watched Star Trek got the Vulcan mind meld, where Spock would say, “Your mind to my mind,” as he put his subject in a trance. This later clip suggests both controlled speech and rape.
I didn’t get the Vulcan mind meld from Star Trek, but I got kything from A Wind in the Door.
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Our enemy depends on silence.