Today I sat in a local coffee shop in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, a town full of Illuminati symbolism and activity, which I have described elsewhere.
There I suffered the usual attacks by directed energy weapons, active denial systems, and voice of god weapons.
What else can you expect when you maintain a website against the CIA, which has 270,000 hits and 3,600 followers?
Dr. Rauni Kilde, the Chief Medical Officer of Finland, has spoken against directed energy weapons, their use has been reported by CNN and CBS, and the military advertises them.
Dr. Robert Duncan, who formerly worked for CIA, and appears still to do so, has spoken about the reality of these weapons. His video is full of bad advice, but Robert Duncan is still an insider who talks about the use of microwave harassment in the War in the Gulf and against American citizens. This stuff is real!
The scum want to make me cry, which will not happen, and they tried to use music on the radio to do it.
As I sipped my tea, listening to Don MacLean sing “Vincent,” it got me wondering about Vincent Van Gogh, his genius, and his suffering.
Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings have always spoken to me.
You can look at all of Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings above, and you can find a version of his life story, with quotations by the artist, in the video below.
Vincent Van Gogh has been overshadowed by false stories of his life starting with the Hollywood film Lust for Life with Kirk Douglas and Anthony Quinn.
The poster for the film suggests rape, and the story is false.
That’s about what we can expect from an industry run by satanic pedophiles.
Vincent Van Gogh was not a mad genius; he was a targeted individual.
In Van Gogh: The Life, Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith, who won the Pulitzer Prize, proved that Vincent Van Gogh did not kill himself at all.
Like any targeted individual, Vincent Van Gogh suffered gang-stalking, and his gang-stalkers murdered him.
That’s the same gangstalking used by the East German Secret Police (STASI), whose chief Markus Wolf was hired by the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to oppress American citizens. Gangstalking and associated methods are called Zersetzung.
You can learn more about Zersetzung, gangstalking, and microwave harassment from my friend, Dr. Katherine Horton, an Oxford-educated particle physicist who worked at CERN.
Vincent Van Gogh heard voices, which may, like the voices heard by Mohamed, have been the product of hypnotism.
Or perhaps they were an extremely early version of V2K. Tesla invented the radio four years after Vincent Van Gogh started hearing voices, but was there earlier technology?
Vincent Van Gogh cut off his ear, as he was assaulted by voices, possibly in an attempt to remove an implant.
The Illuminati and their slaves seek to destroy everything good, everything noble, so it is no surprize that voices told Vincent Van Gogh he could not paint.
Look what those same cretins, who run NSA and CIA, did to another genius, Joni Mitchell.
Just as psychologists do not understand, and misdiagnose, microwave harassment; the so-called experts cannot agree on what was wrong with Vincent Van Gogh.
Whatever it was came only in episodes, as the artist had extended periods of normal functioning. Different “experts” have diagnosed Vincent Van Gogh with everything from Ménière’s disease to epilepsy, bipolar disorder to borderline personality disorder, acute intermittent porphyria to lead poisoning, and sunstroke to God knows what. The porphyria diagnosis seems especially interesting since that has also been made with regard to George III, an activist king and a good man, who seems to have been targeted by the Illuminati.
Like Friedrich Nietzsche, the misunderstood genius whom the Illuminati also targeted and institutionalized, Vincent Van Gogh had stomach ailments. Were they due to drugs or poison, which, as with George III, made him appear insane for short periods? The Illuminati, and their dogs at the CIA, have a long history of using drugs on unwitting victims.
Vincent Van Gogh had his first mental breakdown in London, where he worked as an art dealer for Goupil & Cie, in which his uncle was a partner.
That city is home to British Intelligence, freemasons, and Illuminati trash of all descriptions, so it’s easy to imagine how the young man fell into their clutches.
Shortly after Vincent Van Gogh left London, he joined the Church of Christ. That’s another Illuminati institution, and it is a cult.
Although the United Church of Christ has fewer than two million members, those have included over a dozen senators and governors—not to mention (a) President Barack Hussein Obama, (b) Vice President Hubert Humphrey, (c) Howard Dean, the Chairman of the Democratic National Committee, (d) Chief Justice William Rehnquist, and (e) Robert Orr, the Assistant Secretary General of the United Nations.
Vincent Van Gogh died in obscurity, his life ruined by the trash that abused him, as he foolishly sought to protect his murderers. Despite his genius, he sold only one painting in his lifetime.
Today Vincent Van Gogh’s works are world’s most expensive paintings. At least three have sold for the equivalent of $100,000,000.00 each, in the equivalent of today’s money, and others have sold for prices ranging from $40,000,000.00 to $66,000,000.00.
The scum that destroyed Vincent Van Gogh get off on this kind of thing, collecting souvenirs from their victim’s destruction, just like serial rapists and murderers. It’s their idea of a sick joke.
Meanwhile, Akira Kurosawa uses cartel signaling in his vignette “Crows,” from Dreams, where he shows a man walking into one of Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings.
Ken Kesey, a documented MK-ULTRA victim, describes this hypnotic technique, commonly used by the Tavistock Institute, the CIA, and other Illuminati scum, in his book, One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
Describing the ward of a mental hospital not so different from the ones to which Friedrich Nietzsche and Vincent Van Gogh were committed, Kesey writes from the perspective of a patient.
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.
This technique was used on me at a programming center disguised as a soccer camp, run by the YMCA, at Linden High School, in Union County, New Jersey, when I was seven years old.
Who knows what they used on Vincent Van Gogh?
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