The Freedom of Knowledge, The Power of Thought ©
The Adventures of Don & Carol Croft

Episode 38
Fishing for Feds-Level Two

By Don Croft <>
October 1, 2002

Carol and I took 30 tower busters to finish off the valley north of Lake Coeur d'Alene yesterday afternoon. As usual, the fun started long before we got there.

Carol had noticed that we are being actively surveilled less and less these days.  She said it's because it's no longer cost effective because we always make the agents in the first few minutes of their surveillance and of course,  none of the electronic surveillance measures work at all when a Succor Punch is turned on.

We were about five miles out of town when Carol, who was driving, said, 'There's something about that white SUV behind us'.  Sure enough, the driver was keeping about a quarter mile back and pacing us.

She doesn't usually engage someone telepathically unless she feels that the person has less- than-honorable-intentions, so this was enough for her to read the fellow, who was, of course, a SAIC of the NSA-a new guy to our area. We believe that when one of them gets assigned to watch us, it's like a Frenchman getting sent to a desert outpost in Algeria in the colonial days.

She slowed way down so he had to pass and we waved at him happily.  He didn't turn to look, but of course all agents are peripheral visionaries.  An older woman was in the driver seat.  She didn't turn, either. You can bet that if you behave that way toward anyone else, you'll get a response of some kind, probably annoyance if not a glance or a tentative wave.

He speeded up after that, but was stuck behind another car, so Carol maneuvered to pass him.  We waved again and when he was behind us, closer than a quarter mile now, of course, because we'd made him-he was just looking for a graceful exit now-- I turned around and looked at him through binoculars.  He remained stone-faced, but Carol said he wished to kill me at that point.

We let him pass not long after that and he went really fast until he was out of sight. Carol said he was cussing like a sailor into the radio to his co-workers and flunkies and that they were all having a good laugh  because they set him up and didn't tell him about Carol's telepathy. They're not as kind to each other as we are to our fellow posters.

The woman with him was one of the NSA psychics.  They get assigned to all the visual surveillance teams around us now to key into Carol.  The woman was in on the prank, Carol said.  I admire her for keeping that stone face
throughout.  I know I couldn't do that. Carol could, but she's part Indian.

We saw no more agents that day, though I often asked Carol to check on it.

This isn't the 'next level' aspect, though,  even though it is refreshing not to have to look over our shoulders all the time.

Dark Waters
We did the towers in the C d'A valley and went along the river to the Big City (Spokane) to get resin and batteries, which we get in bulk for the zapper biz and the orgonite devices. Before we got to town, we saw two
new towers being set up on a mountain northeast of the city, so we dutifully went off looking for the access road.

What followed was pretty weird, even by my standards. The access road ended on private property.  It was paved up to that point and all of the properties around there had acreage and were well-healed.  It was a mile
from the array, but Carol said we could vector it with a tower buster there and on the other side of the mountain.

We had passed (barely) three pickups parked in the road about a tenth of a mile from the end.  The men were cutting firewood on the bank above the road and they all glared at us, which we found rather odd.

We passed a little clearing on the way back from the end of the road, in which were a dozen or so big log sections, stools, I think, and a collection of antlers with masks,  with black hoods attached, hanging on the treetrunks.   I bet you can see what's coming.

Carol's face fell when we passed it and I immediately assumed she was seeing something there. We were close to the men again by the time she was able to stop. We wanted to drop a Tower Buster on the site, of course.  As she backed up to the site, which wasn't visible to the men,  they glared fiercely at us.

We did the deed and drove past the assembly again. The youngest man, who was standing on the bank, evincing the most hostility, gestured at Carol with a peace sign, which he quickly inverted to point toward the ground
before we passed.

She said that the folks living around that cul de sac, including these 'lumberjacks,'  are all regularly involved in human sacrifice, right there by the roadside.  That's what she was seeing when she looked at the site.

There were no more targets to speak of.  I was pleased to see that I remembered most of the targets we encountered on the way home.

Shark Attack
I got a hunch to go the longer way home, though Pullman, Washington,  and Carol honored that.  I wanted to visit the fake ponds that we neutralized last month with a single tower buster.  Here's where Phase Two of the NSA
assault on us materialized, and it relates to what we saw on the backroad earlier north of Spokane, though the demonstration of that relationship was arranged by the nice guys,  not by the regime.

This 'settling pond' is at a well-appointed rest area in a remote farming district where traffic along that secondary highway can't really justify the expense of a freeway-style rest area.

Last month, I had noted the high gravel berm there and the steel doors embedded in a concrete fascia leading underground, right beside it.    When I casually tossed the Tower Buster into the water, the level was about
ten feet below the line indicated as normal.   The rectangular pit was divided into two, roughly square graded gravel pits and surrounded by a chainlink fence.  It wasn't on low ground, so it obviously wasn't related to water runoff,  which would have been extraneous at any case, since there was nothing around except farm fields for miles and none of them are irrigated.

After I  did that, we went off to look for access to a nearby tower. About 15 minutes later, we returned and the water level of that segment of the pond was up to the high line. The other part of the pond had remained at the higher level throughout.  I hadn't tossed one in there, which is why I wanted to return yesterday to finish the job.

Carol said at the time that this was connected with an underground base, but she didn't look into it beyond that.

Yesterday,  I walked up the bank and tossed another Tower Buster in, but there was no water at all and the 'divider' had been removed and the pond was lengthened considerably.  The sun had  set and I listened for the 'splash' but only heard the Tower Buster hit the dry ground at the bottom and bounce.

Carol told me that when the Tower Buster hit the ground,  she immediately experienced a sharp pain in the back of her neck.

We drove toward  home and the pain got more and more severe and the side of her head started burning. Of course, we knew this was from an NSA psyops agent or group of them, so we used the Succor Punch to return the favor. The pain gradually dissipated, but the determination and vindictiveness of the agents didn't lessen right away. I decided to go after the boss first, whose name Carol said is Henry Chapelle, then on to his boss, whose first name she told me is Morris.  We didn't get the name of the psyops agent they were using,  but we did get that he's an old timer,  not one of the new graduates they'd been throwing at us for the past few months, nor were they using the dead spies in life-sign maintenance tanks.

The way they found us so fast after having lost us all day is that the 'rest area' is closely monitored by video cameras.   There's even a sign saying that there. Also,  they were extremely upset with us because that first tower buster had caused a nuclear reactor, located under the facility, to shut down when the water from the pond was brought in to cool it.  The reason the pond level came up so fast was that they expelled all of the offending water from the vicinity of the reactor in order to try to get it to start up again.

I don't think the commercial nukes rely so heavily on 'captured' water and I don't know if you'd shut one down this way. The ones we've seen are by open and running water. We routinely drop an HHg in water near them when opportunities present themselves,  and Carol said that all this does is limit the field of the dead and deadly orgone escaping the containment facility.  There's no way to shield that stuff,  of course, which is why people and livestock mutate and drop like flies around the nuke plants until an orgonite device is deployed there.

What distinguishes that attack is that it was ritual-based; satanic, if you will. I'm still not clear on the connection with that particular site, which seems fairly minor to me.  It could be that they're just fed up with us now and are calling in the big guns to deal with us, as it were.  They've lately been working on Carol's daughter through her intimate energetic connection with a thoroughly manipulable pothead, who's in jail, but due to get out in three months.   Carols' taken steps to alleviate that, but it's up to Jenny to cut the cord; nobody else can do it.   We're confident that this will get resolved to the benefit of all concerned, and that no lasting harm will be done through it.  Jenny is often favored with graphic protection reminders in the sky from the Lemurians and is generally pretty well balanced.  Knowing who to open one's heart to is a lesson that most folks never learn, of course.

I started out opposing ritual dark magic and beating its performers in 1970, in Germany,  so this is familiar territory for me and not particularly threatening. I've always maintained that the best a Satanist can aspire to is to be God's handpuppet. I'll play with them anytime they like. They always end up p-----g on their shoes instead of on me and mine.

Attention All Treasonous Thugs
Speaking of guns:  we bought that .45 pistol last month, but haven't taken the time to familiarize ourselves with it.  Neither of us had ever fired a pistol before and I hadn't fired a weapon since 1969 when I was in infantry training.

The feds didn't follow us out of town that day, but we turned on the SP so we wouldn't be tracked by satellite and then drove to a remote logging road and set up the metal target, which spins when you hit it.

Carol said we wouldn't be tracked unless one of us got an adrenaline rush, because that's what keys in the NSA/CIA psyops people who are tuned to us.  I said, 'Don't worry, dear, it's really not very exciting or fun to shoot a weapon. They're noisy and they kick.'

I stupidly forgot to put earplugs in and the first shot temporarily reduced my hearing by half, at least, for the rest of the day.  That pistol is as loud as I remember the bazooka I fired long ago, though of course my ears are not as durable as before, which I hadn't taken into account.  None of the other weapons I qualified on in the army were nearly as loud as that, as I remember.   I hate to think of firing the damn thing off in the house.

Carol got a rush from it, though and within five minutes of her shooting session, we heard a plane flying around in the very low cloudcover above the forest, looking for us.  They didn't spot us, of course, and the psychic had only been able to give an approximate location.  I bet that the NSA/CIA pilot didn't like flying around the mountains in near-fog, no matter how fancy his instrumentation may be.

From now on, we'll go to an indoor firing range and wear those big earmuff things.  I don't think I need any more work with it, thank Grid,  but Carol needs to get closer to the target, she feels.  I'm not fond of cleaning it, either,  or smelling cordite on my hands.

I'd forgotten how much I don't like shooting guns.  I'll go back to pellet rifles for fun and we'll just keep this one within reach, magazine removed,  to protect our home, which is an act of sanity these days, contrary to what some folks' mental programming may dictate. The biggest deterrent the weapon provides  is that unlawful gov't agents know we have it. I'm not aware of any threat that equals their arbitrary, reprehensible attacks on innocents like ourselves.

Without a trace of facetiousness, I can say that I love even these mind-controlled MK Ultra shooters and other wetwork specialists, but that love won't be expressed by letting  them harm me or my loved ones in our home.

I say, clearly, that I consider the National Security Agency and the Central Intelligence Agency treasonous and operating entirely and profoundly outside of any established or natural  law.

I'm calling for their immediate disbandment and dissolution.  I'm also calling for all culpable agents and bosses to be held accountable for their deeds in courts, lawfully established or otherwise, in whatever nation they are operating in right now. They shouldn't be allowed to hide behind an American flag.

Don Croft

© Copyright 2002  All Rights Reserved.

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