By Don Croft <email@example.com>
June 20, 2002
According to Carol, the NSA had a team of 'box surveillance' specialists
waiting for us in San Francisco-a dozen or so. We decided to take a different
route to Guernevile from Sacramento. Guerneville is about sixty miles directly
northwest of San Francisco. No doubt there were bugs on every line coming
from the folks in San Francisco and vicinity that we'd arranged to contact
on this trip, which is why we didn't contact them, for which I aplogize
here and will, personally, when we get back home..
We stopped outside of Sebastopol to make the Holy
Handgrenades we'd need for Boogeyman Grove and timed it so that we'd
be close to Guerneville before the Feds arrived. About a mile before Guerneville,
it felt like we were being watched, so I asked Carol about it. She said
there was a fellow on a mortocycle two vehicles back who had raced through
traffic to be the first to make visual contact with the Zapporium. I pulled
over fast and snapped his photo as he went by. I could see he was very
surprised and angry (humiliated) and Carol said he was one of the bosses
of the operation and was now out of the game, since I 'made' him. (Try
We remembered that Greggus lives just off of the river road outside
of town, so we turned right and started looking for something familiar.
We had gotten together a year before to plant a HHg in the nexus of the
array of vortices that the Fortune 500 and world political leader
boogeymen exploit for their annual satanic rites at the Grove.
We had FedExed a second HHg to Greggus the next day, which he deployed
in another vortex right before the solstice ceremony.
We went past the settled area without recognizing his building, so I
asked Carol to key into the head of the Fed who was actively watching Greggus
that day and, sure enough as we were driving back into town, she indicated
a fellow driving a cherry picker with his turn signal on. He was converging
on Greggus' house, where another agent, apparently from another agency,
in another cherry picker was pretending to do something high up on a telephone
pole. The various agencies don't like to share intel with each other, which
is an amusing aspect of the Illuminati's plans to merge them all into the
'Homeland Security' force. I suspect there would be another war of attrition
among the Feds if that ever comes to pass. Sort of like 'King of the Hill'
with guns, psyops weaponry and poison.
It's great that the spook showed us where to turn, as we'd forgotten
that Greggus' house isn't right on the highway. I took pictures and
waved to the two fellows mentioned above. Greggus hopped into the truck
with us and we went to work.
Greggus had photographed the fellow who was up the power pole a couple
of days before that, but he didn't show up in the digital image. He was
way too big to duck down into that little bucket he was in when Greggus
took the picture, so Carol reminded me that Al Bielek had mentioned
that some of the Fed agents now have a hand-held device that changes their
energy field so that they don't show up in a photo when it's turned on.
I bet whoever follows us now has one of those in their hand all the time.
This guy didn't get that enraged 'look' on his face until Greggus photographed
him again later that day. I think he honestly believed we weren't
onto him until that point. Pretty thick-headed for a NSA spook. Greggus
had tried to get the Sherriff Department to look into the truck's expired
license plates a few days before that, with no luck. I think he should
get a 'bug sniffer' to locate the transponders in and around his residence.
We're going to get one shortly. It's fine to temporarily neutralize
the transponders, but it's better to just find and destroy them all.
In 1997, Wilhelm Muller showed me a little frequency generator that
he turned on whenever he wanted to discuss anything within range of the
snoops that frequently park next to his property. It puts out a field large
enough for two people to comfortably sit in. I later got one of those from
a Yugoslavian zapper customer of mine, right after the American Air Force
bombed his city with radioactive substances. Incidentally, Bill Muller
was the first person to show me that we don't need to fear these predatory
agents. I think he stopped being afraid of tyrants sometime during his
interment in a Nazi concentration camp as a youth.
Punch, though, creates a much larger field. I'm curious to know
what the limits of the field are. That probably has a lot to do with the
person who's using it, of course, but I'm sure the minimum field is adequate
to encompass any vehicle you may be driving or a good part of your residence,
even without being a master of 'intention.' Anyone can direct the
energy, regardless of skill or 'credentials.'
These days, if you're a fairly balanced person, actively engaged in
planetary healing (just talking about it doesn't count, since that's a
sign of imbalance, IMHO) if you get even a fleeting impression that somebody
is psychically snooping you, you're probably right, so just imagine the
beam of orgone going from that Succor Punch to whoever or whatever is interfering
with you and I guarantee they'll wish they hadn't. Keep them
dancing as long as you like. It won't harm them at all. Both of you will
get some educational benefits from the experience. You'll find that it
will happen less and less as time and your good work progress.
Boogeyman Grove is in a narrow valley along the Russian River, about
10 miles from the coast. Bohemian Highway, which crosses the river
downstream from Guerneville, is the road from which the celebrants enter.
Since I don't know the area well, it's a blur to me exactly where we put
all those HHgs but we put the two cloudbusters in positions that aimed
toward the Grove from the other points of a triangle formed with Greggus'
cloudbsuter, which remained in the gorgeous rose garden in front of his
apartment, pointed at the Grove. There is a vortex downhill from where
we put the second CB and one of the HHgs went into that vortex. Another
went into a sacred pool overlooking the Grove. Yes, we had to trespass
to get to it, but it's in a vortex. Right before we arrived at the
'trailhead' we passed two Sherriff vehicles which were parked by the road.
As we pulled over to walk to the site, but before Greggus and I got out
to do it, the cops drove by us, having reported to the Feds that they saw
us, according to Carol.
She stayed in the truck, wondering if the Feds would show up, no doubt,
and catch us trespassing, but we got back before any of that happened.
She had told me that what they were hoping for was a chance to have us
arrested so that we could be disappeared on some token legal grounds.
Otherwise, the local cops probably would be suspicious of the Feds' intentions
and cops, after all, are just PJ people, too.
We put a HHg in the river opposite the boogeymen's play beach; then
one near the slaves' gated entrance.
By then it was nearly sunset, so we dropped Greggus off at his place
and went to spend the night near the seashore. I got the urge to
get up around 6:30AM and climbed down the steep bank to deposit the last
HHg for that project in the ocean Not surprisingly, there was almost
no surf and the tide was low, so I was able to get it in place and hidden
where it would be constantly covered by sea water. It's very unusual for
there to be no surf on the California coast.
Carol told me that putting the HHg there was the finishing touch
because from here on, whoever tries to make satanic magic at the Grove
will be completely and utterly unsuccessful.
We stopped at the Safeway in Guerneville to get Gregus a spraybottle
for the MiracleII that provided some astonishing healing for a long-standing
problem. The clerk asked us what we were doing in Guerneville and
I told her we were there to shut down the black magic. She asked if we
were going to participate in the protest and I said I felt the protests
weren't necessary any more. Carol and I had the impression that the people
in that part of the state would be happy to see the satanists go elsewhere.
The reputation of Bohemian Grove is so bad that it bleeds through even
the PJ people's wall of denial.
Playing with Spooks
Greggus made us some fine coffee, then we headed toward Sacramento
with the frequency shield turned off so the Feds could more easily follow
us and so we could fish for them again.
About twenty miles up the road, I asked Carol where the spook was who
was tailing us and she said he was on a motorcycle about 2 blocks back,
trying not to be obvious. I ran through the last of the yellow phase
of a traffic light so that he'd have to get a little farther back; then,
I sped up and turned into a hidden sidestreet and parked the truck. Carol
and I quickly got out with the camera and stood behind a tall hedge just
beside the roadway. She told me the instant before he appeared, and we
jumped out with the camera to take his picture.
As I was fiddling with the camera setting, I heard him rev his motor
and zoom off at a very high speed. Carol was laughing because, she said,
he almost crashed when he saw us. He had his head down like a racer
and was a block away before I even had the chance to look up.
We drove past Sacramento a little way then stopped for gas. I scaned
the horizon with the binoculars, then turned on the spook-be-gone apparatus
and we took off in a zig zag pattern toward U.S. Rte 30. Carol had said
that the NSA had a light plane in the air, but very low, out of sight so
that we wouldn't see it. It was mainly tracking us by the transponder,
so it wasn't watching carefully.
Right before we got onto Rte 30, heading toward Lake Tahoe City on the
way to Death Valley, I saw the bright flash of a Lemurian craft near the
horizon just ahead of us. Carol said they were congratulating us for doing
all of that without the Wingmakers' help. Some of the Lemurians are Wingmakers,
of course, as are representatives from just about every beneficial agency
you could mention-past, present and future. I don't even try to figure
out their roster any more.
By now, the NSA was still thinking we were headed home, but we were
just playing with them; so they were waiting to pick us up again in Tahoe
Here's where it got a little weird, even for us. I swear that
every time we drive down US 395 west of the Sierras in California, it feels
like we're in the Twilight Zone.
That highway was closed north of Bridgeport, so we had to detour into
Nevada, as I mentioned before. Before we got to the detour, though, we
passed a very large antenna array on a mountain top, next to a very high
pass on California Rte 89. On the next peak, there is a huge stone
monolith which resembles the heads on Easter Island, but there is no road
leading up to the monolith, as there is leading up to the transmitters.
We didn't give it a lot of thought at the time, but when we got to the
detour at Rte 395 we saw that there were two extensive rainstorms, one
over the alleged fire and one centered over the Chembuster I had left near
Fallon, Nevada three weeks earlier (by the way, they'd had many good, long-lasting
rainstorms since then). As we drove south, parallel to 395, we neither
saw nor smelled smoke from the alleged forest fire. Carol said that there
was a token fire started by the Forestry department just for effect, but
that the area was closed because the Feds were recovering a crashed spaceship
belonging to offworld reptilian would-be invaders. The facility on the
mountaintop, which was 30 miles from the nearest settlement, is a HAARP/StarWars
scalar transmitter and had been used along with similar facilities in the
region to shoot down the craft.
The monolith was erected thousands of years previously by visitors as
a primary vortex marker. The nearby HAARP/StarWars facility was put there
in order to exploit the natural energy of the vortex. HAARP needs
to be defeated, but the StarWars weaponry is protecting us, so Carol and
I won't neutralize any of that even if it's being used for HAARP. We believe
they can be recognized because they're only placed in areas where
there are no people living. This one was at about 9,000 feet elevation.
If that weren't weird enough, as soon as we drove into Bridgeport, the
southern terminus of the closed portion of highway 395, we saw a large
snowplow heading north past the checkpoint. Apparently that ship
crashed very high in the Sierras where there was still snow there.
At the gas station, I spoke with a U.S. Marine who had just arrived,
he said, to organize the Marines 'fighting the forest fire' into a convoy
for the return trip to Camp Pendleton, north of San Diego. I told him to
keep his eyes and ears open, as we knew for sure there was no forest fire.
We live in a part of the counry where forest fires are not uncommon and
the smoke goes out for hundreds of miles and lasts long after the fire
is out. Nevada is downwind of the alleged fire and there was no smoke
The next segment of the Twilight Zone was north of Mammoth Lake,
where we passed a convoy of a dozen unmarked, unlicensed white vans, driving
65 mph, very close together. The windows were tinted, but some of the drivers
had their windows rolled down and I saw Boy Scout insignias on their uniforms.
My weird sh-o-meter was already off the scale at that point, so we didn't
give it a lot of thought. The front two vans had different letter/numer
combinations written with markers on pieces of cardboard taped to the windows,
beginning with 'P.' the following vans had letter/numer combinations
beginning with 'C.' The second van was dark green and we couldn't
even see the driver. The front van's windows werent' tinted, so we
saw the uniforms of the athletic-looking young men, about a dozen, who
were seated there. They weren't Boy Scout uniforms but they weren't US
military ones, either.
They turned off the highway at the road leading to Mammoth Lake. Carol
said they were MK Ultra folks, taking specimens from the spaceship crash
site to the massive underground facility there.
Just ahead was Crowley Lake, which had another huge underground complex.
Two of the entrances can be seen clearly from the highway and a little
community of upscale, upper middle class homes was placed near one of them.
The nearest town was about 40 miles south, so this isn't a bedroom
community by any means. I guess the boss drones get to live up in the open
air. I wonder if they have Stepford wives (cyborgs) to keep them
Not long after that, Carol climbed into the bunk behind the driver's
seat and I drove on towards Death Valley in the dark. She had been keeping
a third eye out for NSA psychics after one of them cleverly pinpointed
our location on the way to Guerneyville, by reading roadsigns. This time,
the same fellow showed up (I hadn't figured out yet how to sense his presence)
and read a thought or two that I was having about Death Valley.
A couple of hours later, there he was, sitting in a little red car beside
the road leading down the 5,000' grade into Death Valley. He pulled
out behind me and followed me down, so I parked beside the road and watched
him go by. At this point, I didn't know who he was, but any
traffic on that road at that time of night (around 10:30PM) is a little
suspect, especially if it exhibits that kind of behavior.
By now, Carol was awake and sitting beside me, so I asked her to look
at the fellow. She said she got no impression at all from him. I
noticed that he had stopped just beyond the dirt road that branched off
south to Panamint Springs, which runs along the eastern floor of the valley.
The moon was about ¾ full, light enough for me to find my way without
headlights, but too dark for anyone to see the truck from a distance if
the lights were turned off. He had stopped about a half mile
beyond the junction, so I turned south and drove a couple of miles. Another
vehicle, which was larger and pulling a trailer, pulled up behind the small
car, then they both moved off toward the east, out of sight up into the
small range of hills that runs down the center of Death Valley. Getting
a hunch that it wasn't quite time to go, we waited a few minutes and, sure
enough, the car came back again, stopped at the turnoff briefly, then moved
on to the lighted facility, just uphill from the floor of the valley to
the west. Carol had discovered that the red car was being driven by a young
psychic that had keyed into my thoughts about Death Valley and he was feeling
awfully gung-ho and cocky. She put the Succor Punch on him and said
he was so overwhelmed that he had to get out of his car. Now we were
completely safe from scrutiny, so we moved back onto the highway and drove
towards Nevada, to the east.
We found a spot with sufficiently high sage brush and left the Chembuster
there. We drove the remaining 20 miles to Stovepipe Wells, where Carol
had seen the other agent waiting for us. We decided not to stop and take
his photo, because the Wingmakers intervened to tell Carol that the NSA
had scrambled some MK Ultra hitmen from the underground facility east of
Death Valley, and they had started out about five minutes earlier in two
vehicles. One would drive down the road toward Panamint Springs, since
that was where they figured we might have gone, and the other was headed
toward us at very high speed.
Two such vans, which looked just like the ones in the convoy we'd seen
earlier, passed us at very high speed just as we had turned onto highway
395 going south toward Los Angeles on our first trip through Death Valley
last November. If I hadn't taken the wrong turn earlier, they would
have been able to murder us without having to worry about onlookers. Highway
395 is well-travelled. That was a pretty weird trip, too. I wrote
about that one earlier. At that point, the international Chembuster project
had just gotten off to a very good start thanks to the efforts of
Stephanie and Michael Relfe.
We had returned to Death Valley to put some HHgs over the ancient Draconian
base there in February. We rented a room at Stovepipe Wells and I got up
around 4:30AM, feeling a strong urge to get the job done. Carol said she
heard three large vehicles race past the motel only five minutes after
I'd left. There's no traffic in Death Valley to speak of at that time of
day., but I was completely invisible to them. The Wingmakers made that
happen, not us. I think we made some kind of grade on this week's trip,
since we were able to elude the Feds by our own efforts. It feels
pretty good to do that and it points up the essential incompetence of human
intelligence agencies in the face of the new paradigm.
This leads into my discussion of the two kinds of knowledge and their
characteristics. If one considers the Book of Genesis as an analogy,
the lesson taught by the story of Cain and Abel points out the distinction
between salvation by works and salvation by grace. I'm using the
term, 'salvation,' conditionally, since I'm not supporting the Fundamentalist
notion of salvation. Rather, I think of salvation as an indication of knowing
one's place in the scheme of things as a spiritual being. When one believes
that salvation is attained by one's own efforts, he/she is following a
limiting line of thought. When one believes that salvation is a gift of
God, not earned but given, he/she is following the more creative Divine
knowledge and is more easily susceptible to divine guidance and protection.
This seems to be the modus operendi of the Wingmakers, which is why
I personally feel confident about working with them.
The ancient teachings of the secret societies are essentially Luciferian,
therefore self-centered. The divine teachings, characterized by the spiritual
teachings of the founders of the major world religions, stress the
value of serving others andencourage the development of our latent spiritual
talents. The founders themselves were essentially humble and self-sacrificing,
stressing the importance of spiritual life over worldly dominion.
The Tao Te Ching illustrates the power of humility with the analogy
of water, which always seeks the lowest place to rest, takes the shape
of whatever container it's in, and is essential to all life. The
power of water to erode and break down all natural barriers is also part
of that analogy; so being humble doesn't mean one needs to be degraded.
'Humble' is another word for 'meek,' and Jesus told his followers that
one day 'the meek shall inherit the earth.'
Luciferian doctrine leads one to arrogance, on the other hand. If you're
a follower, conscious or otherwise, of this doctrine, you're probably getting
angry at me right about now.
The European secret societies, which have been molding western thought
for the last three centruries, have cleverly mixed aspects of divine beliefs
in with the less palatable Luciferian doctrine in order to get folks to
move away from independent thought and the concept of individual freedom.
Secret societies also fostered an image of spiritual beings as ascetics
and otherwise non-participatory in day to day issues, like freedom and
In Asia, other methods have been used to subjugate people through religion.
Though a careful review of what remains of the original teachings of Zoroaster,
Buddha, and Krishna show that none of the oppressive practices and beliefs
of these faiths are rooted in the teachings of the founders, but rather
were added by the clergy, long afterwards. Islam is the first religion
to have most of the teachings of the founder written down within his lifetime
and the Baha'i Faith is the first to have no clergy at all, so these are
relatively unpolluted by destructve, divisive, social practices and dogmas.
In the emerging paradigm, receiving seems to have more value than giving.
Think about that for a moment. Most giving is done through a sense of guilt
or a desire to get something back. Most of us find it difficult to receive
a gift, even from a dear friend. One needs to overcome guilt in order to
Guilt is the other side of the coin of the belief that we are God, IMHO.
It's also the main obstruction to true unity among people.
I've met a lot of people and I carefully consider every belief system
that's expressed to me before I try to determine if it has value for me.
What most westerners seem to miss is the point that one's actions speak
more clearly of his beliefs than his words. Over the years, the westerners
I've known who insist that they are God, seem to be very narrow and intolerant
of other beliefs and express a lot of resentment when I question them.
The Asians I've known who express that belief seem to be talking about
something entirely different and also seem to be extremely fond of semantics.
I have a good friend who is a Sikh from Punjab, and though he was quite
dogmatic about this issue, he was also self-sacrificing to a fault and
extremely tolerant and curious about my own beliefs. Also, whenever
he was in trouble, he asked God for help. I guess if he really believed
he was God he wouldn't feel the need to do that.
This leads me to believe that westerners are given this as part of a
mind control program to keep them polarized and isolated, and therefore
more easy to control. After all, if you can make me angry or hate 'organized
religion,' you're in charge, not me. I guarantee that nobody's going
to get at me by criticizing my beliefs. Luciferian doctrine is the
most organized of all the 'religions.'
I know people who have gained impressive occult knowledge through years
of training in secret societies. Many of the spooks we eluded this
week, were trained that way. The problem with that mode of education
is that there will always be a sort of ceiling, since it's based on a denial
of divine assistance. Carol and I have a relatively casual background in
metaphysics, but we have faith in an omnipotent, all-loving, independent
Creator who works through many agencies such as the Wingmakers. I
can tell you that if you're not aware of these things you can only get
it by asking God for it. Not even the White Brotherhood can help
you with that, and I think they're generally considered the highest human
occult agency, a sort of fountainhead of all the secret Luciferian orders
in the world.
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