I grew up in Westfield, New Jersey, a satanic cesspool masquerading as a cute little town.
From 1976 to 1978, I was sent to a soccer camp, ostensibly run by the YMCA, at Linden High School in Union, New Jersey, for one week each August.
Playmate of the Year, Marilyn Lange, grew up in the same town, and she went to the same soccer camp, where we were both subjected to sexual entrainment under MK-ULTRA.
I didn’t remember what happened for years because I was drugged, and I would bet money that Miss Lange doesn’t remember at all. CIA uses date rape drugs like GHB, ketamine, rohypnol, and scopolamine–just to name a few–which stop memories from even forming. That’s why I was exhausted the first day of the week, even though I spent my childhood constantly playing outdoors.
The United States Congress held hearings on CIA’s abuse of American citizens with drugs and otherwise, and Clinton made a false apology, but there’s no way the agency stopped abusing us. I know that from personal experience.
The autopsies of two prominent Playboy Playmates indicate that CIA fed them hypnotic sedatives used for mind control.
Marilyn Monroe, a so-called presidential model, had large amounts of chloral hydrate in her system, when she was found dead. In case you forgot, Miss Monroe not only had ties to the Mafia and Frank Sinatra, but she consorted with President John F. Kennedy, whom the CIA murdered.
Likewise, large amounts of chloral hydrate were found in Anna Nicole Smith’s body, after she married an eighty-nine-year-old Nazi billionaire, J. Howard Marshall, inherited his fortune, and died herself, under mysterious circumstances, but not before she bore a child, who inherited the money.
If that’s not an asset strip, and a motive for murder, I don’t know what is.
Some suspect the father, Prince Frederick von Anhalt, was born as the result of Nazi experiments and his daughter by Anna Nicole, Dannielynn Birkhead, is an attempt by the Illuminati to create what they call a moonchild.
That’s what Barbara Bush, the putative daughter of Aleister Crowley, is supposed to be, conceived in a sick Illuminist rite.
Just like me and Miss Lange at our soccer camp, neither Anna Nicole nor Marilyn would have remembered what the CIA did to them–not only because of drugs but also because of electroshock (which is used to wipe our memories).
Most people never remember their abuse under MK-ULTRA, and I didn’t remember for years because hypnotism is combined with electroshock and drugs. You know, like when you see a stage hypnotist put a subject out, give them commands, and they don’t remember….
And, just in case that wasn’t enough, we don’t remember because of trauma. The mind throws up amnesia walls to protect itself from horrific memories, blotting out abuse. As described by Cisco Wheeler, the daughter of General Earle Wheeler, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Illuminati perfected these techniques long ago, and they passed them on to the Tavistock Institute, the Central Intelligence Agency, and other like-minded scum.
But let’s get back to that soccer camp in Union, New Jersey, where these techniques were used on me, on Marilyn Lange, the Playmate of the Year, and on so many others.
They made Miss Lange watch Batman, as they programmed her, and she later toured with Batman, Robin, and the Batmobile. I am sure they told her she was Catwoman on more than one occasion.
They also made Miss Lange watch Star Trek, as they programmed her, and she later toured with the Star Trek Coupe. As part of her sexual entrainment, under drugs and hypnosis, she would have been given the Vulcan mind meld.
I got different shows. I have very clear memories of being made to watch The New Adventures of Wonder Woman, which I describe below.
I was also shown films about Rhodesia, a good country that was targeted by NWO, where white and black fought side by side against terrorists trained by CIA.
These same trash at the agency would program Dylann Roof with nonsense about Rhodesia before he shot up a church in Charleston, South Carolina, as part of OPERATION GLADIO C, a plot to take our guns away.
Not only did Roof write a manifesto, a bunch of jibberish called The Last Rhodesian, which had nothing whatever to do with Rhodesia, but I know of his training because my programmer told me about it, person to person, on June 17, 2015, the day he shot up that church.
But let’s go back to that soccer camp, the one where Miss Lange and I had our sexuality entrained by the abusive scum. One of us ended up posing for Playboy, and the other ended up fantasizing about Playmates.
There’s one show they made me watch, and I hated it. I bet they made Miss Lange watch it, too.
When they weren’t drugging us, hypnotizing us, sexually abusing us, and raping women in front of us, the trash at CIA made us watch The Banana Splits Show.
The show featured flashing lights and hypnotic effects, which put us deeper into trance and which were used to trigger us in the waking world. You can see those effects in each of the videos in this article, and I encourage you to watch them.
Brace yourself. The show brought memories back for me, and I read of someone who went into epileptic seizures, screaming, when he watched the show.
One part of the show was the Magic Machine. Just as Suzi walks into a picture in the clip above, the Banana Splits take the viewer into another world, level of trance, or back to reality, in the clip below.
Ken Kesey, a documented victim of MK-ULTRA, describes a higher level phenomenon in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, but it’s essentially the same thing.
I push my broom up face to face with a big picture Public Relation brought in one time when it was fogged so thick I didn’t see him. The picture is a guy fly-fishing somewhere in the mountains, looks like the Ochocos near Paineville – snow on the peaks showing over the pines, long white aspen trunks lining the stream, sheep sorrel growing in sour green patches. The guy is flicking his fly in a pool behind a rock. It’s no place for a fly, it’s a place for a single egg on a number-six hook – he’d do better to drift the fly over those riffles downstream.
There’s a path running down through the aspen, and I push my broom down the path a ways and sit down on a rock and look back out through the frame at that visiting doctor talking with the residents. I can see him stabbing some point in the palm of his hand with his finger, but I can’t hear what he says because of the crash of the cold, frothy stream coming down out of the rocks. I can smell the snow in the wind where it blows down off the peaks. I can see mole burrows humping along under the grass and buffalo weed. It’s a real nice place to stretch your legs and take it easy.
They hide this stuff in the show, and just in case some poor kid wakes up a little, remembering abuse by the pedophiles at the CIA, they have a device to blame it on: the Secret Code Committee.
When faced with a wild tale about the abuse of their child, parents will think it is the product of an over-active imagination, exposed to things on the show like the Secret Code Committee or the Secret Code Wheel.
So, okay, those are the devices used to bring children in and out of trance–and for gamma programming to cover abuse.
What is programmed into children while they sit in trance states?
Aside from its animal characters, The Banana Splits features the Sour Grapes Bunch. This was a group of unusually pretty prepubescent girls, all named Charley, who never spoke. While Barry White sang to driving Mo-Town rhythms, the Charleys danced, cavorting in an obscene caricature of sexuality:
We’ll be doing it, doing it, doing it,
Doing the Banana Split, y’all.
We’ll be sliding it, peeling it, scooping it,
Dipping the Banana Split, y’all.
Get up on your feet,
and feel this new sensation.
It’s a new dance,
That’s in your pants.
It’s sweeping across the nation.
God knows what happened to those girls behind the scenes, or in later life, but my guess is it wasn’t good.
At soccer camp, and at other programming centers, girls were programmed to act like Charleys, and boys were programmed to lust after Charleys.
This was supposedly part of being a boy, just as the scum later programmed me with false ideas of being a man. Here you can watch the Banana Splits sing “I Enjoy Being A Boy,” with the usual trance-inducing hypnotic effects. At the beginning there is possibly cartel signaling with the Union Jack, along with the Tavistock Institute, suggested.
MK-ULTRA loves cartel signaling, and their imagination is crude. That’s Kerri Kendall below, Miss September 1990, fellating a banana.
Here’s Josephine Baker, who was the talk of Paris in the Roaring Twenties. She danced naked, her hips wildly gyrating, as bananas bounced against her privates.
Unsurprisingly, The Banana Splits contained childish double entendres about your sister not liking bananas or unzipping your banana, as in the clips below.
At soccer camp, under MK-ULTRA, they would put girls in front of us, encouraging us to rape them; and if you didn’t go for it, they played this song for you: “You Had Your Chance.”
I had to listen to that a lot, because they never got me to assault anyone–except for one of the male rapists when I tried to protect his victim.
And you might not believe it, but I actually had the comic book above. It was worlds better than the rape comics to which they would later entrain me.
Since my programmers could succeed with nothing else, I would watch the following song from The Banana Splits, “That’s The Pretty Part Of You,” while my fingers gently traced my bare chest, training normally reserved for girls, as the trash taught me to masturbate.
The worst part was Danger Island, a show nested within The Banana Splits, in a typical hypnotic technique. Watch the intro, and see if it brings anything back for you.
For years, I remembered only Chongo, a colorful character who spoke nothing but jibberish, and gave his name to the exclamation, “Uh-oh Chongo!”
But really the whole show was one big rape fantasy. Wonder Woman was the brunette they entrained us to rape, but Leslie Hayden, played by Ronnie Troup, was the archetypal blonde they drove us to attack.
Miss Troup was born in Bryn Mawr, a hotbed of MK-ULTRA activity, where two of my sexual partners would go to college. She was married three times. And she appeared, uncredited, as a teen party guest in the Bob Hope film I’ll Take Sweden.
Bob Hope, in case you forgot, was an MK-ULTRA programmer, handler, and rapist who abused untold numbers of vulnerable children and young women.
Susan Ford, writing under the pen name Brice Taylor, is only one of the women whose lives were ruined by Bob Hope, the Illuminati pimp.
Likewise, I have written about the connection between Lynda Carter, who played Wonder Woman, and Bob Hope.
If a beautiful woman appeared in the company of Bob Hope, you can bet she was raped in the most horrific ways, and programmed to forget her abuse.
Here’s Raquel Welch, whom I used to regard as the hottest woman on the planet, dancing obscenely like a trained dog, just like the Charleys on The Banana Splits–only this is an otherwise beautiful woman, who should be a proper object of desire, not a child. It disgusts me to look at her.
Here’s Ronnie Troup, who appeared with Bob Hope in I’ll Take Sweden, where she was horrifically raped, and who later played rape scenes in Danger Island. Some poor bastard who got the same training I did has put together the following video. It’s the kind of thing I might have watched when I smoked cannabis, a practice that makes you vulnerable to hypnotic suggestions and sexual programming.
Danger Island, nested in The Banana Splits, is nothing but one big rape fantasy. In the show, Professor Irwin Hayden and his daughter, Leslie, are kidnapped by pirates after being separated from their friend Lincoln Simmons. There is constant threat of rape, as much as t.v. censors would allow in 1968, always right before the cliffhanger that would end the show, leaving the viewer to fantasize for days about the crime.
Unfortunately, CIA beat me to the punch. I watched these videos in English recently, but CIA just took them down because they don’t want you to recover your memories by hearing the words you heard as a child. The best I could find were Portuguese translations, probably aired in Brazil, with different music, but they should be enough for you to see what Danger Island, and The Banana Splits, were really all about.
Here’s Leslie cornered by a pirate who means to rape her, laughing obscenely, as others circle her, grabbing her body, manhandling the teenager, as her father tries to protect her, and she fights to get away.
Here’s Leslie, hands bound, dangling from a hoist in what resembles marionette training under MK-ULTRA.
That’s the same sort of training Sarah Palin, former beauty contest winner, is supposed to have had. The trash that abuse Governor Palin and her family call her “Caribou Barbie.”
Back on Danger Island, here’s Leslie, her hands bound behind her back, dragged through the surf by a knife-wielding rapist.
Here Leslie is, her hands bound to her father’s, desperately backing away from her leering rapist.
And here Leslie is the following week–remember each of these was a cliffhanger so you had until the next show to fantasize–lying on the beach, ready to be raped and killed.
Linc rescues Leslie, which made me cheer, but the programmers hedged their bets, giving him a sublimated rape scene. Boys who identify with Linc would never go for rape, especially if overtly presented, so instead we see Linc wrestle with a leopard, whose skin pattern MK-ULTRA uses to mark women who have been subjected to a certain form of beta sex-training.
If you don’t believe me, here’s a picture of Marilyn Monroe.
And here’s a poster I sometimes staple to telephone poles, going out before dawn, when the scum won’t let me sleep.
There’s a reason why scenes like the following, with Ronnie Troup, who played Leslie on Danger Island, are called catfights.
These are the scenes the scum made us watch on television, on a so-called children’s show, programming us to play them out with our sisters, friends, and neighbors as a prelude to rape. They did the same thing with Wonder Woman, and I have seen children play these sorts of imaginary games in my capacity as a playground leader.
It reminds me of Brave New World, where Aldous Huxley describes the program. In the book, children are raised by the state, required to engage in sexual play, and sent to a psychiatrist if they refuse. You end up with the kind of sexuality shown in the inferior film version below, where people go to the feelies, to have sensations forced on them.
It’s much the same way CIA forces sensations on us through nanotechnology, cybernetic implants, and microwave harassment. It took me many years to realize what they were doing to me.
So you can imagine how I was concerned to hear Warner Brothers is remaking The Banana Splits this year, 2019, starring Finlay Wojtak-Hissong, Dani Kind, Romeo Carere, Steve Lund, and Sara Canning….
But then I heard it will be a horror movie.
I can’t think of a better genre.
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