The Freedom of Knowledge, The Power of Thought ©
The Adventures of Don & Carol Croft
Episode 47
NSA Versus the Cloud-Busters Gang
Part 3

By Don Croft <>
December 7, 2002

San Diego
Cbswork got about forty new tower busters together for us for Thursday so we could continue LAARP's campaign toward San Diego.  Somebody else would have done that, but we wanted to contribute some more toward their comprehensive effort on our way to meet Marc Melton, the notorious Agent M2.  I'll get a word or two in here about our meeting with James and Rose Mary Hughes in Ashland, Oregon, on our way home from California [Part 4].

What struck us was the savage nature of the energy of San Diego, which hasn't had the good fortune to experience LAARPs healing endeavors. Marc is the only person in that whole wide metropolitan area who has a cloudbuster, to the best of our knowledge, and his ceaseless efforts since his arrival on the forum late last summer had only made a dent in the overall deadening energy field there.

We were rather disoriented by all that dead orgone and were caught off guard because we'd already gotten accustomed to the relatively mellow ambience of Los Angeles (I swear I'd never have expected to put 'mellow' in the same sentence as 'Los Angeles').

Marc is a joy to be around, though, so our trepidation was completely offset by his scintillating presence.  Here's a guy who really puts his money where his mouth is, too, and has proven his willingness to enter the dragon's mouth with nothing to back him up but his own faith and native abilities. We were glad to find that he's initiated his own approach to planetary healing, based on energizing the lines connecting the major earth-star grid point vortices.  There's one of these major vortices very close to the underground base in Mexico that he successfully neutralized last month and though the regime found and removed both of the devices he so painstakingly put there, he's already arranging to get it done permanently next time.

In pragmatic terms, when we feel that astral eyes are on us, we're probably correct, so imagining the source of intrusion, inpaling the visitor on our healing Succor Punch beam and then expelling him does the job.  It gets easier with each episode and that little flicker of movement in our peripheral vision [astral entities] gets less and less frequent if we remember to follow our instincts more carefully and consistently.

We hope and expect that his innate gift with herbal medicine will soon finance a widespread campaign to realize his inspired planetary healing vision. In case you haven't tried his Uncle Earl's Elixirs, please do so and you'll see why we don't want to be without them any more. He's always happy to discuss his fine products if you email him at

Carol and I believe that it's okay that some of the devices in Mexico and China were found for two reasons:  the world regime now knows that even their most cherished and secret facilities are easily found and  neutralized by our network and they're showing us that we need to pay closer attention to the importance of psychically shielding our location from them during our most sensitive operations. Also, this may point out the importance of  over-gifting and the notion that 'close' counts with horseshoes and hand grenades (in this case, holy ones).

Carol's Secrets
My wife keeps some secrets from me because I have a big mouth, which is okay because if it weren't for my big mouth we'd both be pushing up daisies by now or strung up on some dungeon wall.

One of those secrets is her ability to make us invisible to predators, both the physical and astral kind. My own efforts with Mr. Skull seem pretty crude next to that, though Mr. Skull has no peer in certain other applications.  Our success in eluding the feds for all that time can be attributed to a combination of higher intervention, Carol's skills and the ineptness of the fed stalkers.  If I can get more specific instructions out of this I'll share it with you, but it's still pretty new to me, so all I can do is report what we experienced for now.

Cbswork told us that when he asked his Succor Punch to make him invisible to predators it was a problem in traffic because so many people there are predators that he had to drive Very Defensively before he thought to modify his request and apply it only to the alleged government's own stalkers.

At least one fedmobile came close to colliding with us on a freeway in LA last week.  I had to slam on my brakes when he changed lanes to where our car was.

Mr. Skull
To the best of my knowledge, the entity who brought me that crystal skull and inspired me to put a mobius coil around his head like a hippie headband is Hermes, the originator of the sciences who is revered by Freemasons as their pre-Egyptian founder.  I think the Theosophy folks call him Hilarion, though the guy they're calling by that name is probably a ringer,  just one of the dark masters in astral costume, as is St. Germain, in my opinion. 
I'm certainly not prepared to defend my assessment, but it feels right to me.  They're great guns on using ringers for damn near everything, which will be apparent if they try to trot that psychopath, Prince William, out onto the world stage as the return of Jesus Christ ;-)

Most psychics are rather uncomfortable in the presence of Mr. Skull, and some have intimated that there's some dark force at work in there.  I wonder if that reticence has something to do with the raw power that Mr. Skull represents.  I heard a story one time about some Kabbalistic adepts who accessed the force of Creation.  Most of them were literally destroyed by the power, but the only one who wasn't affected by it was the one who didn't want personal power.  

Carol liked it better before I put the mobius headband on, but I figure that if you're going to a streetbrawl it's a good idea to bring along a dirty fighter, since ALL on the opposing team are dirty fighters. If you new agers want to engage in these fisticuffs, you'd better wear a tin cup because your high mindedness and collegiate style will probably cause you to leave your vitals unprotected. Talking about love and fuzzy things won't stop them from going for the gonads, you can bet.  I wish I could count the number of times I've had to hold the hands (via email) of the new agers in this campaign who have engaged the regime on the field and were surprised that the regime fights back after they've just disabled a few of their million-dollar deathforce transmitters.  I get a kick out of the ones who expect the NSA/CIA to honor their 'non-aggression' entreaties after the fact ;-)

Mr. Skull and my Doppelgangster are apparently old buddies, so they work well together and I'm not naïve enough to assume they need my supervision once they've agreed to take on another human target.

Love can take many forms.  It may be a stretch for you to accept that I can love Jay Rockefeller while I subject him to the double whammy of Mr. Skull and my Doppelgangster but I don't see a contradiction.  After all, Jay's
upper chakras are probably getting a good workout for the first time since he was first ritually abused as a small boy in an effort to get the poor little bugger's higher chakras shut down and everyone wins when we play this game.

Reptilian Testimonials?
I wish those old Draconians who now occasionally ask for a dose from my Succor Punch would write a testimonial for me so I wouldn't have to contend with you Love and Light guys any more. They were the scariest predators, by far, when we first got started with our cloudbuster two years ago. Condoleza Rice, with human infant blood dripping from her chin, looks like a warm-hearted schoolmarm next to these guys.  Imagine a stretched out version of Richard Gephart on crack cocaine (Prozac?) and with an attitude and you have an approximation of what these alien fellows' merciless aspect was.  Now they're not so bad to have around.  I bet they know some terrific stories and jokes.

After visiting Marc we had just enough time to finish our assignment in LAARP's proprietary campaign and get to a motel for the night in Temecula.  Carol was pretty exhausted from spending two nights in Glendale's CIA Central (Days Inn) so that night she slept very well.  The feds didn't find the car until early morning.  They lost it again as soon as Carol renewed her spell, of course.  

Orange County, California
We drove over to Capistrano (returning, as it were, like the salmon ;-) ) on the way to see Ken and did some more work for LAARP on the way, since nobody would be likely to drive along this mountain highway anytime soon.  We weren't able to spot Palomar, but Carol could see that the energy coming off the mountain was vibrant and clean, still, from Cbswork's efforts there. Capistrano must have a cloudbuster because everyone we saw had a smile and the atmosphere there was pristine.

We called Ken Adachi after we arrived in Orange County.  At one point, in Newport Beach, we were walking along the street while getting an oil change and a fed in a spy-tech work truck made a U-turn right in front of us in an effort to locate us.  The guy looked right at both of us and didn't recognize us. We had  let our guard down for a bit before we stopped at Jiffy Lube and a quiet chopper spotted us and started circling. Carol did the invisibility ritual and the chopper flew aimlessly away, then we started seeing a plethora of fedmobiles while the car was in the shop and we did the tourist thing along the waterfront.  That was fun.

Ken told us to meet him by an oriental market and we thought, 'Oh, great-look for a small, middle aged oriental man at an oriental market!' But we recognized him right away somehow.

He took us to a Japanese Restaurant in Costa Mesa and there were two feds in the booth close to the door when we arrived, so we abandoned the notion that we'd have any privacy.  Ken puts all of our stuff on his popular site,, and in our view that makes him a close ally.  Though he might not acknowledge it, he's sacrificed a lot over the years to inform humanity to the best of his ability (that's saying a great deal). I got the Joe Cell information from his site a few months before we made a cloudbuster, and I know he's been on the cutting edge longer than we have.

I get the sense that all of us who are now waking up want, more than anything else, to be free of the old constraints that have been imposed on us, practically since birth, by the world regime. I suspect there are many paths one can take to get out of this maze, but Carol and I have chosen to demolish the maze itself rather than just to escape from it. 

Ken's provided every bit of information at his disposal to assist all of us in our efforts to win this global spiritual war and information has taken the place of bullets in this campaign. A bullet is only useful if it reaches its target and information is only useful if it can be applied to a constructive solution, so it's up to each of us to 'educate ourselves' these days.  Other sites focus on problems, only, and the net effect is that they lead us to feel discouraged and even hopeless in the face of the mountain of dilemmas, most of which were created solely by the world regime.  Ken's efforts are applied in the direction of finding solutions to the Big Problems that the other sites only whine about.  I think he deserves a medal for that and certainly not a posthumous one. 

Although he does this mostly without giving a thought to his own personal advantage, I hope that anyone who wants a Terminator will buy one from him rather than from Carol and I, since this will offset, in a small way, some of the sacrifices he makes daily to keep us all informed and up to speed.

The Perils of Eavesdropping
A funny thing happened when we were saying goodbye to Ken in the vicinity of the oriental market:   I got an urge to show him my spudgun, so I took it out of the trunk, loaded the chamber with propellent (Right Guard
deodorant, the brown can, works best and leaves no residue-it even smells good after you fire it off) and ignited it, which produced a satisfying BOOM that turned everyone's head for a quarter mile around, but not before
I got it secreted back into the car's trunk.

Carol immediately walked over to a fedmobile that was half-hidden a hundred yards away.  When she got back she said that an NSA fellow in that car was listening to us all through one of those distant-sound isolators and
amplifiers with headphones when I set off the spudgun, but he scooted posthaste after I blasted the thing and he saw Carol coming.  She made sure he saw her wave at him before he left.  I bet his ears are still ringing from that Greatly Amplified spudgun explosion.

Carol had pointed out most of the feds who were around when we were with Ken. Like everyone else, he'd never noticed them before. It's quite a shock to all of us when we first realize just how utterly molested our
privacy is, which is why Carol and I relish the times when we're completely free of surveillance, as when we're in our home and occasionally when we're out on patrol. I think we're all heading to a time, soon to come, when
we'll be able to easily disable all surveillance, even the psychic hacking that accesses us through our old mental programming. Of course, potheads and drunks won't ever experience this until they've overcome their addictions. Until then, they're all simply walking videocams and unwitting agents of the regime and we avoid closely associating with them, if possible, for that reason.

Road Rage
We left Ken around 5:30PM and it took us two hours to drive through Los Angeles along Interstate 5 on the way to San Francisco. We didn't bother counting the fedmobiles that were out looking for us, but that's when one of them nearly ran me off the road. The succession went like this as we drove through their designated jurisdictions:  a chump part-time fed in his own cheap car would scurry by us, then a regulation fedmobile or two, then a SAIC in a very expensive car with blacked-out windows all aorund would hurry by, attempting to do what his flunkies had failed to accomplish. That happened two or three times by the time we reached the San Joaquin Valley. They had a pretty good idea we were going to see Stuart by now to hand him the chemtrail documentary CD.

It was 11PM by the time we got to a stopping place and we didn't expect the feds not to find our car by this point because they had apparently made it a top priority and had put damn near everyone who could drag himself across the floor out to find us. When Carol goes to sleep the invisibility spell wears pretty thin.

Calling Card, 'Goodfellows' Style
An hour later, I went out to get something out of the car and found an oil spill under the engine that ran to a low spot in the pavement and pooled. I was too tired to deal  with it and it was apparently no longer spilling out, so I just went back to bed.

The next morning there was only a faint trace of the spilled oil and even the pool had been wiped up. I knew that oil doesn't just absorb into sealed pavement that way and when Carol got to the car she said, "A guy just stopped me by the soda machine just now and made a point of telling me what a beautiful morning it was.  When he was talking, I saw an image of him trying to put a bomb in the car last night, but having failed because
you showed up and rattled him pretty badly.  I simply told him, 'What you did last night didn't work,' and walked away."  Then I showed her the traces of the spilled oil.

I got in the car and turned the ignition key, not yet connecting what she just told me with what I was seeing.  She later told me that when she was sitting in the passenger seat she held her breath, half expecting it to be her last.  He'd obviously sat in the driver seat the night before because Mr. Skull, who was standing upright behind the lumbar support pillow after I got out the night before, was on his side when I opened the door and moved the pillow.  I bet Mr. Skull goosed that CIA murderer when he sat down.  Maybe he did it with Love and Light-who knows?

The San Joaquin valley is perpetually smog-bound and part of this is due to the fact that the only cloudbusters are in Sacramento and Bakersfield, as far as I know.  The skies over both cities are in pretty good shape and
there's less smog there, but somebody really needs to Do Something for the area in which most of America's produce is grown, don't you think?

DOR Crop Water & Ritual Magicians
Though we were in a hurry, we stopped to toss a slightly buoyed Holy Handgrenade in an irrigation canal along the way.  I tape some floatation material to the point so that it will land on its bottom, on the bottom,  instead of top down. Carol's able to get them to land upright every time in water, but the only time I was able to do that was when Greggus took me to the spring in the vortex on the Bohemian Grove grounds last June. I dropped it after reaching down into the water up to my armpit. Still doubting that it landed right, I moved aside the water weeds and saw that it did, indeed land upright another two feet or so beyond my reach. Greggus had no doubt at all and was amused, I think, at my lack of confidence. I don't take chances any more and tape and plastic foam packing material is cheap and plentiful. Richard in Reno told me that he dropped a HHg in Lake Tahoe recently after having followed my recommendation to tape a sytrofoam ball to the point and the whole thing just  floated away.  He told me that seagulls immediately started pecking at the styrofoam and that the thing was sure to sink pretty soon. I know of another case of seagull intervention that's pretty remarkable, too.

When I parked, Carol received a strong warning not to get out of the car. My insistence to her to come along and share the fun sort of overwhelmed her better judgement, though, and a weasel crossed our path on the way to the canal, a quarter mile away down a dirt road. Carol was immediately attacked by a number of ritual magicians (should have paid attention to the warner, not to me) and on the way back she twisted her ankle on level ground and fell down. As I approached the canal, I experienced a strong 'Don't Do It!' resonant emotion from the bad guys, so I knew, right away, that these canals were being used to carry a LOT of concentrated dead orgone to the crops in the fields. 

I would like to spend a month in the San Joaquin Valley and the ajoining hills and reservoirs with Carol if somebody doesn't beat us to it by next summer. 

San Francisco
The trip into the Bay Area was not remarkable except that the hundreds of expensive wind generators in the hills east of the metro area were completely still due to lack of wind.  If anyone were to attack cloudbusters that's probably the only conceivable chink in our armor, but of course, after all the viable free energy devices are allowed into the marketplace without physical risk to the inventors, those wind generators will end up in the same scrap pile as the deathforce transmitters, so what's the fuss?

Alternative Energy, Free Energy, & Orgonite 
Putting a lot of confidence in wind generators and solar panels begs the issue that these products are only available (at an inflated price) from the very corporations whom we hope to get our independence from by turning to alternative energy production technology. Learning that there are always more options than the ones presented to us by the world regime is one of the prerequisites of waking up and taking off our PJs.

Speaking of Colonel Bearden ;-), I remember hearing him say, around 1990, that there were absolutely no viable free energy devices on the planet at that time. Six years later I met Bill Muller, who told me his magnet
motor/generator had  been perfected and widely demonstrated to professionals, worldwide,  in the late eighties and that there were at least five other free energy devices, operating on completely different principles, that were ready for the market by then in British Columbia, alone.  Bearden has now grandly announced that he's going to give us all 'free plans' for his alleged free energy device. If his diagrams are as studiously indecipherable as his speech and writing are I wonder if he's giving away anything at all besides a good way to ignite the kindling one
time in our woodstoves.  For now, I'm putting Col. Bearden, 'Free Energy Device Inventor,'  in the same category as Maitreya or Prince William, 'The Long Awaited Return of Jesus Christ.'  Ringers are as ringers do. 

I'm still patiently waiting for someone, anyone, to tell me one distinct new principle or description gleaned from Col. Bearden's talks, books or diagrams. I've got a high IQ, but all of his stuff is incomprehensible to me.  For my money, if something is fascinating, engrossing, illuminating, etc., certainly one should be able to repeat, in one's own words, at least a little bit of what he's learned from it all. Otherwise it looks like mental programming to me, that's all-how is that any different than the periodic assault on one's sensibilities by Oral Roberts, Guru Ram Dass or Rev. Jim Jones? 

Contrast that with what the Cbers are now doing and reporting. Orgonite work and the related crystal and sacred geometry technology is all  revolutionary science which has loads of sensory confirmations, but anyone
can understand it on some level and it's being described in as many ways as there are individual people doing the research.  Notice that nobody's parroting Don Croft in the process (thank Grid).  As much as the New Agers
give me the willies, I must admit that their descriptions of these processes are at least as viable as my own.

Road Runner and Wiley Coyotes
Before crossing the San Mateo Bridge on the way to Belmont, where Stuart lives, we stopped at a gas station to get a map. There were two fedmobiles in the parking lot, though the occupants didn't spot us. One of the feds was inside, easy to distinguish.  I made a point of standing right behind him at the counter and mentally trying to get him to look at me, but he just stood there, fairly vibrating with stress and tension.  He quickly left to resume his Search Mission ;-)

'The Eagle Has Landed'
We got to Stuart's place without having called him, as we didn't want to have a fed reception there. It took them about forty minutes to figure out that we'd arrived, then the chopper recon flights started up. I called Jesse Zaloudek and invited him over for the celebration, but forgot to tell him Stuart's apartment number, so I waited for him in an adjacent parking lot. When Jesse got there, a fed van pulled in right behind him. I waved to the operative, expecting him to then depart, but he parked nearby and sort of scurried toward Stuart's apartment complex, right past Jesse and I. He had an odd grin on his face, too. Jesse got in the car and we beat the fellow over there, but Carol said that he got so confused that he didn't cut the phone lines or anything and simply turned around and left.

Stuart's landlady is a Wiccan sort who uses her finely honed instincts to pick renters and it felt really nice around there. Two neighbors, a young couple named John and Jacquelyn, are quite psychic, too, and have been watching out on Stuart's behalf very well in a sort of symbiotic relationship with our forum host's impressive energy contrivances, which are a very good, unique synthesis of orgonite, sacred geometry, passive coil technology and crystals of various sorts.  We all had a very fun, ongoing  'show and tell' session.

The CD was uploaded without hesitation by Stuart, even as I was trying to warn him that the next 24 hours carried a strong likelihood that the feds would break his door down and haul off his equipment and possibly beat him up or even shoot him in the process.  The underground information site owners knew about this risk, which is why they all  declined the offer to make it available to the public. Who could blame them? You'd have to have some intimate knowledge of how orgonite works in order to get the confidence required to pull this off, I think..

The connection to his server was immediately cut after he posted the announcement on the forum that the documentary was available for download.  The connection was fixed after considerable telephone interaction with his server.  It was lost again right after I posted a confirming message a few minutes later. This time the server was less willing to cooperate and was trying to pass the buck to the phone company, so Carol and I asked Stuart to put his cannon-scale Succor Punch to work on the person who was really responsible.  

He envisioned a black-suited man who was supervising some semi-conscious techies at computer terminals and he lit the Man in Black up with healing orgone.  By the time we looked again, the connection was re-established and as far as I know the forum hasn't missed a beat since then. An hour or so later there were seventy people throughout the globe already downloading the documentary to their own computers. I think we're the only people on record who are going after the Men in Black these days. What else can one do you do with a Mortician With Attitude?  Do they realize how laughable they all are?  They do drive awfully nice cars, though-not at all like the Ford Police Officer Special in the movie.

We all walked to a nearby restaurant in high spirits to celebrate and when we walked though the dining area I was struck by the number of people who looked directly at us all with forlorn expressions, like we'd sat on their
Caesar salads or something.

Restaurant Fed
Carol counted seven NSA and CIA agents in that restaurant, including our waitress, as I mentioned.  I put Mr. Skull on the table as a sort of centerpiece and a lot of the noise in the restaurant (they weren't all feds, of course-most of the folks there were happy and it was as noisy as a German beerhall) instantly got many decibels lower for some reason.

Jesse had picked out several of the pavement artists, even one who passed us on the sidewalk on the way to the restaurant, though he wasn't looking as systematically as Carol was. I told Jesse he needs to have more confidence in his considerable abilities. I had only picked out a couple for sure-the two who were staring at me the most openly and accusingly on our way to our table.

Here's a good spot to mention a time anomaly experience that two people had while out busting towers. It wasn't one of these folks, but I want you to know about it. These two guys-I can vouch for the character of the one who told me-were driving down a city freeway and suddenly the city itself vanished, replaced by farmland.  Also, the median strip was covered with oleander bushes. This lasted several minutes, during which both men were considering the implications of never seeing their kids again, then it all changed back right before their highway exit came up.Later on, one of them was told that when the freeway was built, in the late forties,  there
was no city there and the median strip was planted in oleander bushes.

Was that a non-sequitur?  Who knows, eh? ;-)

Carol told us that December 6 is represented by the Queen of Clubs, which stands for successful communication. The planetary ruling card associated with the Queen of Clubs is the Ace of Spades, which stands for 'the truth hidden behind the illusion.'  It's also my birth card, which may explain why I'm so driven to reveal the man standing behind the curtain (Gosh, is that St. Germain? ;-)).  It's also Jeff Baggaley's birth card, and Princess Diana's.

I see this is nine pages already.  I'll write Part Four and that should finish it.

Don Croft

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All information posted on this web site is the opinion of the author and is provided for educational purposes only. It is not to be construed as medical advice. Only a licensed medical doctor can legally offer medical advice in the United States. Consult the healer of your choice for medical care and advice.