CHAPTER 9:
RONALD REAGAN’S AMERICAN DREAM: A PANDORA’S BOX OF NIGHTMARES
My mind-controlled existence became more complicated after Senator Byrd introduced me to then President Ronald Reagan in the fall of 1982 1 at a White House political party. Byrd told me,
My mind-controlled existence became more complicated after Senator Byrd introduced me to then President Ronald Reagan in the fall of 1982 1 at a White House political party. Byrd told me,
"When you meet the Chief, imagine him with his pants down. He’s most comfortable knowing you are imagining him with his pants down. He doesn’t want formality."
Former President Ford had conditioned me to dread the Office of President, and I mechanically went through the motions of meeting Reagan.
Reagan admittedly had seen the How to Divide a Personality and How to Create a Sex Slave videos made in Huntsville, Alabama. He acted very pleased with me as though I had participated in them willingly. Within the first few minutes of meeting Reagan, he was giving me acting tips to utilize in government operations and pornography!!
Reagan admittedly had seen the How to Divide a Personality and How to Create a Sex Slave videos made in Huntsville, Alabama. He acted very pleased with me as though I had participated in them willingly. Within the first few minutes of meeting Reagan, he was giving me acting tips to utilize in government operations and pornography!!
"When you become your part, your performance increases, which in turn increases your ability to do your part ~ for your country. ’Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country’ ~ your part," he instructed.
Somehow, Reagan’s reminder of Ford’s and VanderJagt’s conditioning to Kennedy’s quote seemed more patriotically significant than "simply" sexually entertaining politicians by waving a flag in my bottom. After gazing deep into his self-professed "kaleidoscope eyes," each metaphorical phrase he spoke became life and breath to me.
Reagan explained to me that the illegal CIA covert activities I was forced to participate in were "justified" as they funded covert activities in Afghanistan and Nicaragua.
Reagan explained to me that the illegal CIA covert activities I was forced to participate in were "justified" as they funded covert activities in Afghanistan and Nicaragua.
He explained,
"America’s Freedom Train is spanning the globe and sex is but a sidetrack to the ultimate course of freedom. Our job of procuring and transporting arms is the most difficult part of all. But it can and must be done. How can a man with no arms fight? These operations are necessary as American people raise too much hell about violence already, and it is better they’re not informed of our supporting wars they cannot understand the significance of."
I realize now that Reagan twisted reality to fit his personal perceptions rather than to adhere to Byrd’s philosophy of providing "excuses" for what he deemed "the order of things". In typical Reagan fashion, he did not perceive mind control as slavery, but as "an opportunity for those who otherwise would have nothing in life".
He claimed that multigenerational incestuously abused children like myself, or "previously impoverished baseball players from third world countries and slums, are provided an opportunity to ’be all they can be’ through making a ’contra-bution’ to society, our nation, and the world, by utilizing their talents to maximum potential." With this altitude, Reagan displayed pride in the sick role he played as The Wizard Of Oz, directing Project Monarch slaves like myself.
That night Senator Byrd acted in the capacity of a pimp and prostituted me to Reagan. Referring to me as though I were a machine, Reagan asked Byrd, "Does she run on chemicals?" meaning specific CIA drugs.
Byrd answered, "She takes it in spurts". I noticed that Reagan’s eyes lit up with perversion and understanding of Byrd’s statement, which meant that I "shared" whatever drugs were in his system through his urine. Reagan later told me he preferred sex slaves equipped for this task since he, as President, should not have to get up in the night to urinate, "Well," Reagan said, holding up his glass, "All I’ve had to fuel her with is alcohol.
That night Senator Byrd acted in the capacity of a pimp and prostituted me to Reagan. Referring to me as though I were a machine, Reagan asked Byrd, "Does she run on chemicals?" meaning specific CIA drugs.
Byrd answered, "She takes it in spurts". I noticed that Reagan’s eyes lit up with perversion and understanding of Byrd’s statement, which meant that I "shared" whatever drugs were in his system through his urine. Reagan later told me he preferred sex slaves equipped for this task since he, as President, should not have to get up in the night to urinate, "Well," Reagan said, holding up his glass, "All I’ve had to fuel her with is alcohol.
That’s not much of a jolt from a "whiz of a Wiz(ard)." Byrd chuckled at Reagan’s Oz cryptic joke and removed his gold cocaine vial from the inner pocket of his suit. He and Reagan discretely turned their backs to the party while Byrd "spoon fed" Reagan the drug up his nose.
Before I left with Reagan, Byrd informed me that,
Before I left with Reagan, Byrd informed me that,
"Uncle Ronnie doesn’t sleep with his mommy (Nancy)," and that he preferred snuggling into his LL Bean, light blue flannel sheets in his nightshirt and ridiculous nightcap because "they’re warmer, softer, more comfortable, and don’t snore".
Later, in his bedroom, Reagan accessed my sexual programming, and I became "my part" as a prostitute to "Uncle Ronnie". Reagan did not move during sex. After all, that was "my duty". And my duty was to please him, whatever it took, and it took more time than anything.
Reagan never hurt me (he always made sure someone else did that) and used this as a "bond" to the little child ("Kitten") personality he always accessed for sex. Reagan’s most apparent personality kink was his love for bestiality pornography.2 According to my handlers, his passion for pornography escalated its manufacture and distribution during his Administration. He wholeheartedly approved and encouraged the porn industry for funding covert activity.
Many commercial and instructional (private) pornography films I and others participated in, referred to as "Uncle Ronnie’s Bedtime Stories," were manufactured solely for his pleasure-oftentimes according to his instruction, using Freedom Train slaves. After my initial meeting with Reagan, I was used in numerous films that were produced predominantly at Youngstown Charm School and/or by his "Chief Pornographer"3 Michael Dante, specifically to satisfy his perversions. These included a wide range of cryptic themes, but were mostly bestiality. Reagan often watched the videos while I was prostituted to him, requiring me to re-enact the porn however possible.
I first met Reagan’s Chief Pornographer Michael Dante, AKA Michael Viti, at an elite Nashville hotel where he was attending "charity" Golf Tournament festivities. Like CIA Operative Charlie Pride’s Pro-Am Golf Tournament in Albuquerque, New Mexico, this "charity" tournament provided a cover for the cocaine and white slavery operations that dominated the event. Houston and I often attended such "charity" events, as did Dante, but it was only after having met Reagan that Dante’s and my paths crossed as arranged.
Dante took me to his hotel room after our initial introduction. He snorted a few lines of coke, looked me over as though I were merchandise, and accessed my sex programming. He then arrogantly asked me if I knew who he was. He told me he lived in Beverly Hills, California and made movies. I thought he was referring to his box office flop, Winterhawk, until he said,
Many commercial and instructional (private) pornography films I and others participated in, referred to as "Uncle Ronnie’s Bedtime Stories," were manufactured solely for his pleasure-oftentimes according to his instruction, using Freedom Train slaves. After my initial meeting with Reagan, I was used in numerous films that were produced predominantly at Youngstown Charm School and/or by his "Chief Pornographer"3 Michael Dante, specifically to satisfy his perversions. These included a wide range of cryptic themes, but were mostly bestiality. Reagan often watched the videos while I was prostituted to him, requiring me to re-enact the porn however possible.
I first met Reagan’s Chief Pornographer Michael Dante, AKA Michael Viti, at an elite Nashville hotel where he was attending "charity" Golf Tournament festivities. Like CIA Operative Charlie Pride’s Pro-Am Golf Tournament in Albuquerque, New Mexico, this "charity" tournament provided a cover for the cocaine and white slavery operations that dominated the event. Houston and I often attended such "charity" events, as did Dante, but it was only after having met Reagan that Dante’s and my paths crossed as arranged.
Dante took me to his hotel room after our initial introduction. He snorted a few lines of coke, looked me over as though I were merchandise, and accessed my sex programming. He then arrogantly asked me if I knew who he was. He told me he lived in Beverly Hills, California and made movies. I thought he was referring to his box office flop, Winterhawk, until he said,
"Uncle Ronnie sent me. He wants me to make movies with you as your ’contra-bution.’ We’re gonna have a good time, then he’s gonna have a good time, and everybody’s happy. You’ll like that, won’t you Baby? Get dressed. We’re going back downstairs and make arrangements."
Dante telephoned me often, professing "our love" through command reinforcements and making arrangements to meet me in specific places for producing Uncle Ronnie’s Bedtime Stories and commercial porn. These locations included, among others, Tennessee, Florida, the Caribbean, and California. He often talked of owning me in the future, painting a picture of what life would be like living with him. His attitude toward women was atypical of slave owners and handlers, and he often quoted scripture to justify his dominance.
"No arguments," "speak only when spoken to," "take a good beating now and then just to keep you in line," "see to all my comforts and housework," and "be on call 24 hours a day when I need a good whore".
He gave me a slave bracelet ~ a trademark of his porn ~ and said, "A woman needs a chain. It’s a public reminder of total commitment and devotion. A reminder of the chain-of-command. A woman is tied to her man. No man should be tied to a woman."
Dante’s Connecticut Italian roots are in the Mafia, and it was a well-established fact that organized crime and government had a close working relationship where criminal covert activities were concerned, I met many of Dante’s associates, and we already shared a few common contacts who were conduits between the Mafia and CIA. These included Congressman Guy VanderJagt, former President Gerald Ford, then Governor of Pennsylvania Dick Thornburgh, Congressman Jim Traficant, Congressman Gary Ackerman, and Ronald Reagan.
Dante related to me,
Dante related to me,
"When Reagan was Governor (of California), we went to Dodger (baseball) games together and sat in the Press Box. I got to know him real well and we got along. So, he and Tommy (LaSorda, Dodger manager and their mutual friend) and I would continue partying after the game. I brought him a few girls (slaves) and we did business. Really. Tommy LaSorda brought us together ~ you’ll like him. I’ll take you to meet him. We’ll go to games together all the time, every chance we get. You’ll love that, won’t you, Baby? You like a Press Box, Baby? Dick says you do."
I wasn’t surprised that Dick Thornburgh had talked about his previous, perverse sexual activity with me at a baseball game back East any more than I was surprised to learn that Dante knew Thornburgh through their mutual political and baseball ties.
Dick Thomburgh was Governor of Pennsylvania during my tenure as a Presidential Model mind-controlled slave. He used his influence to bring Houston into Pennsylvania State and county fairs year after year for the purposes of cocaine and pornography distribution, as well as for prostitution of me to him on a regular basis. Thornburgh was a heavy cocaine user, and was deeply involved in CIA covert activities ~ particularly Project Monarch. He was a firm believer in mind control, not only for sex training and government operations, but for sports. An avid baseball fan, Thornburgh had much to share with Reagan, Dante and LaSorda,
I had been giving Handwriting Analysis lectures on NCL’s Norway cruise ship (my cover for covert operation) in 1987, and Thornburgh and his friend Chicago Cubs Baseball Scout Jim Zerilla were in attendance. Afterward, Zerilla offered me a job with the Baseball Commission analyzing handwriting of their "million dollar babies" baseball players before they were signed up. Thomburgh explained that the job may not fit into my schedule. Nevertheless, we met on several occasions during the course of the cruise, always for sex, but business was discussed as well.
My programmed mind contained a "baseball computer" that was created for Reagan, and used by many including Thornburgh, LaSorda, Dante", and Zerilla. It was packed with the kinds of statistics in which they were interested; the codes, keys, triggers and hand signals of certain mind-controlled baseball players.
Dick Thomburgh was Governor of Pennsylvania during my tenure as a Presidential Model mind-controlled slave. He used his influence to bring Houston into Pennsylvania State and county fairs year after year for the purposes of cocaine and pornography distribution, as well as for prostitution of me to him on a regular basis. Thornburgh was a heavy cocaine user, and was deeply involved in CIA covert activities ~ particularly Project Monarch. He was a firm believer in mind control, not only for sex training and government operations, but for sports. An avid baseball fan, Thornburgh had much to share with Reagan, Dante and LaSorda,
I had been giving Handwriting Analysis lectures on NCL’s Norway cruise ship (my cover for covert operation) in 1987, and Thornburgh and his friend Chicago Cubs Baseball Scout Jim Zerilla were in attendance. Afterward, Zerilla offered me a job with the Baseball Commission analyzing handwriting of their "million dollar babies" baseball players before they were signed up. Thomburgh explained that the job may not fit into my schedule. Nevertheless, we met on several occasions during the course of the cruise, always for sex, but business was discussed as well.
My programmed mind contained a "baseball computer" that was created for Reagan, and used by many including Thornburgh, LaSorda, Dante", and Zerilla. It was packed with the kinds of statistics in which they were interested; the codes, keys, triggers and hand signals of certain mind-controlled baseball players.
Zerilla and Thomburgh were cruising en route to the Dominican Republic to the CIA baseball mind-control farm to scout out new slaves. They talked excitedly about the prospect of winning large sums of money through gambling on rigged games. I had been aware for years that many pro players, particularly LaSorda’s Dodgers, were mind-controlled and triggered to win or lose according to their owners’ bets and favors.
The Dodgers, Reagan’s "favorite American pastime" ball team continuously won, including the World Series during his Administration. The Mafia was in on the bet rigging, and information was passed to certain ones through Thornburgh and others as gleaned from my "baseball computer" programming.4
To this day I am not certain who instigated the plastic surgery to which I was forcibly subjected, but soon after meeting Reagan and Dante I was scheduled for breast implants. Perhaps it was done for pornography. Perhaps it was Reagan’s preference. I tend to believe it was a combination of the two and ordered since my breasts were no longer lactating. In the first commercial porn film Reagan had directed Dante to produce in St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands my breasts were still tender and swollen from silicone implant surgery.
My appearance was not the only "make over" I endured after meeting Reagan. Aquino and I were called to Washington, D.C. to revise my base core programming to override Senator Byrd’s control for security reasons. Since Reagan had been shot, he took extra precautions to ensure his safety which included directing Aquino as to how he wanted me programmed.
To this day I am not certain who instigated the plastic surgery to which I was forcibly subjected, but soon after meeting Reagan and Dante I was scheduled for breast implants. Perhaps it was done for pornography. Perhaps it was Reagan’s preference. I tend to believe it was a combination of the two and ordered since my breasts were no longer lactating. In the first commercial porn film Reagan had directed Dante to produce in St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands my breasts were still tender and swollen from silicone implant surgery.
My appearance was not the only "make over" I endured after meeting Reagan. Aquino and I were called to Washington, D.C. to revise my base core programming to override Senator Byrd’s control for security reasons. Since Reagan had been shot, he took extra precautions to ensure his safety which included directing Aquino as to how he wanted me programmed.
Much to Aquino’s dismay and embarrassment, Reagan admired the occult role that this Army Lt. Colonel played for mind-control traumatization purposes, as it fit in with the public promotion of religion Reagan had launched. Reagan claimed to believe that the masses were easiest to manipulate through their religion, as were mind-controlled slaves like myself.
While Reagan had Aquino in D.C., he demanded that he wear his black ritual robes to a White House party to reinforce the controlling superstitions of a few South/Central American diplomats. Aquino appeared foolish in the eyes of his peers. They knew Aquino’s image was only a guise for Psychological Warfare, but his appearance at the White House in costume made Aquino look like he believed his own facade.
While Reagan had Aquino in D.C., he demanded that he wear his black ritual robes to a White House party to reinforce the controlling superstitions of a few South/Central American diplomats. Aquino appeared foolish in the eyes of his peers. They knew Aquino’s image was only a guise for Psychological Warfare, but his appearance at the White House in costume made Aquino look like he believed his own facade.
Aquino got even with Reagan. Minutes before I was prostituted to Reagan that evening, Aquino ordered me into a closed side room where he very quickly had intercourse with me. When he finished ejaculating, he slapped me on the behind and disrespectfully said, "Take that to the Chief."
Earlier that day, Reagan instructed Aquino how to program me in keeping with "spin" programming depicted in the "How to" videos. "Program it," Reagan said, referring to me as though I were an object, "under number one. I like the number one. It’s the first, the best, and it promotes confidence ~ like ’I’ve won’," I observed Aquino giving him the intellectually disgusted look here served for anyone with the fortitude to make a suggestion to him, but tempered his reaction by giving some thought to the request.
Earlier that day, Reagan instructed Aquino how to program me in keeping with "spin" programming depicted in the "How to" videos. "Program it," Reagan said, referring to me as though I were an object, "under number one. I like the number one. It’s the first, the best, and it promotes confidence ~ like ’I’ve won’," I observed Aquino giving him the intellectually disgusted look here served for anyone with the fortitude to make a suggestion to him, but tempered his reaction by giving some thought to the request.
Since the "How to" videos showed the 6th revolution to "ignite the heat of hell" for sex, no one would suspect I had sex programming under the first revolution. It would take some modification of my initial programming, but Aquino was sold on the idea. By programming me according to Reagan’s instruction, Aquino would be able to provide added protection for Reagan whereby any program I was under at the time would immediately become replaced by Reagan’s number one as quickly as I saw him. This effective safety measure infuriated Byrd the first time he saw me instantaneously switch out of his control in Reagan’s presence.
Additionally, Reagan discussed how Aquino could use me on various military and government installations to provide "Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations" of the "latest advancements in training" by displaying the diversity of my "Presidential Model" programming. Reagan said the Hands on Demonstrations could "educate our boys in the military to the wonders of the mind-control phenomena."
Additionally, Reagan discussed how Aquino could use me on various military and government installations to provide "Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations" of the "latest advancements in training" by displaying the diversity of my "Presidential Model" programming. Reagan said the Hands on Demonstrations could "educate our boys in the military to the wonders of the mind-control phenomena."
"Hands On" meant my sex programming would be used to "peak their interests and lock (bond) them in." After all, "entertaining the troops is a long time American tradition." Aquino did the programming, and Reagan began making arrangements for the demonstrations ~ which brought me back around to Dick Cheney. Cheney would be acting in the capacity of my "Commander" for the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations and other covert operations from then on.
1 Since I had no concept of time under mind control, the ’80s seemed like one long day to me, whereby discerning exact dates is extremely difficult. Furthermore, I was programmed to believe that every encounter with certain individuals was "the first time". I do know that I had been conditioned and programmed in preparation for Reagan since 1978 at NASA’s Cape Canaveral in Titusville, Florida.
2 Reagan preferred illicit pornography videos such as bestiality, while his favorite pornographic magazine was Larry Flynt’s Hustler.
3 Although Hollywood’s Dante rivaled Larry Flynt for the title of "Chief Pornographer" producing video versions of Hustler’s stills, Flynt was unequivocally the official White House Pornographer. Dante’s covert filming of political perversion for blackmail purposes failed to gain him the international notoriety Flynt maintained through his New World Order collogues such as Presidents Reagan, Bush, and Ford; CIA Director Bill Casey; U.N. Ambassador Madeleine Albright; Senators Byrd and Specter; Congressmen Trafficant and VanderJagt; Governors Thornburgh, Blanchard and Alexander; and various World Leaders such as Prime Minister of Canada Mulroney, President of Mexico de la Madrid, and Saudi Arabian King Fahd... to name a few...
4 Having been out of circulation since my rescue did not preclude my ability to "predict" winners according to political favors: from George Bush, Jr’S Texas Rangers to the Toronto Blue Jays’ victory during the Canadian political heal of NAFTA.
CHAPTER 10:
"COMMANDER" DICK CHENEY and REAGAN’S "HANDS ON MIND-CONTROL DEMONSTRATIONS"
PLEASE NOTE: In order to maintain the integrity of documenting my experiences using precise and photographic detail, I have recorded events and quotes as they occurred in reality. Please excuse any offensive and foul language, but this is the way Cheney presented himself, I was attending another White House cocktail party where, as usual, I was taken aside for a meeting and escorted to a large office.
PLEASE NOTE: In order to maintain the integrity of documenting my experiences using precise and photographic detail, I have recorded events and quotes as they occurred in reality. Please excuse any offensive and foul language, but this is the way Cheney presented himself, I was attending another White House cocktail party where, as usual, I was taken aside for a meeting and escorted to a large office.
There, Reagan and Cheney were having their "before cocktail party" cognacs, and Reagan’s cheeks were already flushed. He was in a hurry and quickly explained the purpose of the meeting,
"You’re the kind of girl who could hold a man in line. (He was cryptically referring to the lines of military personnel I was forced to have sex with.) That’s why I’ve selected you to tour a few Air Force Bases with the Colonel (Aquino) and demonstrate for our boys in the service that a Presidential Model is trained for, a kind of ’hands on’ demonstration. But you’ll have to audition for the role."
Reagan drained his glass and gestured toward Cheney as he strode for the door, adding, "Do what he says. He’s your commander."
It had been eight years since I had been hunted and brutalized by Cheney in Wyoming, and apparently he wanted to see how my programming had progressed before agreeing to use me in Reagan’s "Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations". He grabbed me roughly by the hair and slung me onto a black leather chair, tipping my head backwards over the high studded arm.
It had been eight years since I had been hunted and brutalized by Cheney in Wyoming, and apparently he wanted to see how my programming had progressed before agreeing to use me in Reagan’s "Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations". He grabbed me roughly by the hair and slung me onto a black leather chair, tipping my head backwards over the high studded arm.
"Audition here," he snarled. Since I last saw him, I had undergone Wizard Of Oz Tin Man programming, which he accessed to accommodate his large, thick penis. He placed his hands on my jaw while he said, "Soon we’ll have you purring like a well oiled machine. All of your moving parts are pivotal and gliding with ease. Melt into my hands. I’ll hold your jaw to keep it from slipping while you slip through a window in lime." He then jerked my jaw out of joint, and roughly gratified himself in my throat.1
As he lit his cigarette, I slowly regained focus enough to realize I was in pain. The back of my head hurt from being thrust into the studs on the chair, and I slowly lifted my head. My owner, Senator Byrd, had just walked in and realized Cheney had already completed the "audition". Referring to compartmentalizing my memory via stun gun high voltage, Byrd asked, "Did you fry her?"
Cheney, ’cocksure’ of himself as always, answered. "She can’t have fucked all of Washington" (indicating that no one would believe me anyway, even if I did reach this point and talk). Cheney put out his cigarette and said as he went out the door, "She’ll work. Tell Ronnie she’ll work."
When Byrd saw that my lips were bleeding, he called Cheney a "son of a bitch" under his breath, as this damage would prevent my fulfilling other assignments that were planned for me. Byrd touched his finger to my swollen lips and tasted the blood (and Cheney) several times. Then he slapped me hard across the face, which re-aligned my jaw but caused more blood to flow down my chin. He took a box of tissues from the desk and threw it at me, the corner hitting me in the forehead. "Wipe yourself up. You’re just getting started. I’ll see to it you get what you’ve got coming to you."
Fortunately for me, Byrd had cause to return to the formal cocktail party and did not have time to brutalize me further. My face was battered, mouth torn, and my throat felt torn and stretched. I had difficulty swallowing for some time, and could not speak. I certainly was in no condition to return to the cocktail party, and was escorted out by agents/guards.
Before I could leave Washington, Byrd made good on his threat and arranged for me to meet with Cheney in a blue bedroom in a part of the Whitehouse so remote that "no one could hear my screams and moans". But Cheney implemented Oz theme "Silence" conditioning anyway as he proceeded to brutally sexually assault me.
As he lit his cigarette, I slowly regained focus enough to realize I was in pain. The back of my head hurt from being thrust into the studs on the chair, and I slowly lifted my head. My owner, Senator Byrd, had just walked in and realized Cheney had already completed the "audition". Referring to compartmentalizing my memory via stun gun high voltage, Byrd asked, "Did you fry her?"
Cheney, ’cocksure’ of himself as always, answered. "She can’t have fucked all of Washington" (indicating that no one would believe me anyway, even if I did reach this point and talk). Cheney put out his cigarette and said as he went out the door, "She’ll work. Tell Ronnie she’ll work."
When Byrd saw that my lips were bleeding, he called Cheney a "son of a bitch" under his breath, as this damage would prevent my fulfilling other assignments that were planned for me. Byrd touched his finger to my swollen lips and tasted the blood (and Cheney) several times. Then he slapped me hard across the face, which re-aligned my jaw but caused more blood to flow down my chin. He took a box of tissues from the desk and threw it at me, the corner hitting me in the forehead. "Wipe yourself up. You’re just getting started. I’ll see to it you get what you’ve got coming to you."
Fortunately for me, Byrd had cause to return to the formal cocktail party and did not have time to brutalize me further. My face was battered, mouth torn, and my throat felt torn and stretched. I had difficulty swallowing for some time, and could not speak. I certainly was in no condition to return to the cocktail party, and was escorted out by agents/guards.
Before I could leave Washington, Byrd made good on his threat and arranged for me to meet with Cheney in a blue bedroom in a part of the Whitehouse so remote that "no one could hear my screams and moans". But Cheney implemented Oz theme "Silence" conditioning anyway as he proceeded to brutally sexually assault me.
"Byrd tells me you need a good whipping. But I’m not certain which instrument you prefer, so I brought them all."
Cheney had a riding crop, a whip, and a cat-o-nine-tails laid out on the bed. He beat me quick and hard as though he were releasing his tensions rather than savoring my pain like Byrd did. I regained consciousness when Cheney slid a pillow under my neck, steered me by the hair, and bent my head back. Survival instinct kicked in when he positioned himself above my head, I hoped to satisfy him before he became deadly brutal again. But he quickly pulled out his liquid cocaine sprayer, sprayed my throat, then proceeded to get rough.
At one point he yanked my head aside and asked, "Was that a tooth?" and grinned. It was imperative that I kept my teeth off him because, according to Aquino’s programming instruction, I was subject to death if a tooth was ever felt by anyone. Cheney knew this was my programming and manipulated me with it often. I resumed "satisfying him as though my life depended upon it, because, of course, it did."
This is another Aquino programming line Cheney knew and used. When he was gratified, he flopped over and slept. I had been instructed to leave immediately because Cheney absolutely did not want me near him when he slept (some insiders say he is paranoid), and I began dressing. I was escorted out.
In preparation for ’’running bases" for Reagan’s Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations, I underwent a great deal of programming by both Aquino and Cheney. Cheney laid the ground rules while Aquino carried out our programming derail and performed the demonstration with me on various military and NASA installations.
Reagan wanted the demonstrations to include all programming depicted in the "How to" films, additional programming instilled since the videos were made, delivery of drugs when applicable, and sex according to Aquino’s instruction with whomever/however many were present at the lecture. Cheney’s personal "touch" to the demonstrations was to have me programmed to vaginally internally electric prod myself with a high voltage cylindrical cattle prod-truly an example of total mind control.
I was routinely escorted arm-in-arm "Oz style" by two agents to Cheney’s downstairs office in the Pentagon. Sometimes Byrd took me in. Other times Cheney walked me through the building, particularly if we were going to his "Bunkhouse" personal quarters. Cheney’s office was equipped with black leather furniture, a huge messy brown desk, massive book shelves, and an hourglass that he always used in keeping with Oz programming, to assure me that my life was on the line under his command.
In preparation for ’’running bases" for Reagan’s Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations, I underwent a great deal of programming by both Aquino and Cheney. Cheney laid the ground rules while Aquino carried out our programming derail and performed the demonstration with me on various military and NASA installations.
Reagan wanted the demonstrations to include all programming depicted in the "How to" films, additional programming instilled since the videos were made, delivery of drugs when applicable, and sex according to Aquino’s instruction with whomever/however many were present at the lecture. Cheney’s personal "touch" to the demonstrations was to have me programmed to vaginally internally electric prod myself with a high voltage cylindrical cattle prod-truly an example of total mind control.
I was routinely escorted arm-in-arm "Oz style" by two agents to Cheney’s downstairs office in the Pentagon. Sometimes Byrd took me in. Other times Cheney walked me through the building, particularly if we were going to his "Bunkhouse" personal quarters. Cheney’s office was equipped with black leather furniture, a huge messy brown desk, massive book shelves, and an hourglass that he always used in keeping with Oz programming, to assure me that my life was on the line under his command.
As a programmed MPD, I had no concept of time. The hour glass was a visible way for me to see "my time running out" and actually grasp the concept.
The first time I reported in, Cheney shuffled through the clutter on his desk, picked up a paper and began reading:
The first time I reported in, Cheney shuffled through the clutter on his desk, picked up a paper and began reading:
"Number one. I am NOT your friend, and I don’t want to see you unless I order you to report in. Number two. Follow the Colonel’s (Aquino) orders, as it is the chain of command. What he orders you to do, is a command from me, follow it to the letter, as though your life depends upon it, because (he looked up and grinned wickedly) of course, it does."
His cold eyes bore into mine as he walked around to the front of his desk, "Any questions?"
I knew he "was NOT my friend," but he already "saw me" sexually on other occasions. I was perplexed and hesitated. Even though I remained silent, Cheney sensed my hesitation and became enraged. He got up in my face, poked my breast bone with his finger and roared,
I knew he "was NOT my friend," but he already "saw me" sexually on other occasions. I was perplexed and hesitated. Even though I remained silent, Cheney sensed my hesitation and became enraged. He got up in my face, poked my breast bone with his finger and roared,
"Don’t even THINK to question anything I say! There is no question as to what I do, what I think, or what I say, because I am absolutely above questions ~ especially YOURS!! Your orders are clear. Now get out of here! I have work to do!"
Throughout the next three years, U.S. Army Lt. Colonel Aquino used me in the Hands on Demonstrations on numerous Army, Navy, Air Force, and NASA installations across the U.S. according to Reagan’s plan and Cheney’s orders. The Top Brass privy to the demonstrations ranged from three at a time to roughly twenty. In closing, Aquino always "persuaded" them to line up while I was forced to perform sexually on command with each one.
The larger groups were physically painful, while the smaller groups often involved unapproved variance from the routine, such as revealing Reagan’s bestiality perversions. The wide array of "switching" my personalities that Aquino incorporated into the demonstrations, and the vast amount of high voltage and torture to which I was subjected, left me exhausted and physically devastated for days after each one of Reagan’s Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations.
1 My jaw is permanently damaged from Cheney. I have chronic TMJ.
CHAPTER 11:
"POPPA" PHILIP HABIB
My (CIA operative) handler, Alex Houston was scheduled to perform with country music entertainer Loretta Lynn at the Playboy Club in Atlantic City, New Jersey in the spring of 1985, and he admittedly did not want me there for the performance. He explained that after his show, he intended to "dress up like a carrot as lunch for the Bunnies" and I would only be in his way.
My (CIA operative) handler, Alex Houston was scheduled to perform with country music entertainer Loretta Lynn at the Playboy Club in Atlantic City, New Jersey in the spring of 1985, and he admittedly did not want me there for the performance. He explained that after his show, he intended to "dress up like a carrot as lunch for the Bunnies" and I would only be in his way.
But I had White House business to attend with a different land of "rabbit". Reagan had arranged for me to meet with his personal attaché", Philip Habib (now deceased), who always played the cryptic rote of the Alice in Wonderland White Rabbit to mind-controlled slaves. Houston had no choice but to take me along once the orders came down.
CIA operative Ken Riley, the Neo-Nazi pedophile who functioned in the capacity of Loretta Lynn’s road manager and Project Monarch Mind-Control handler, was Alex Houston’s closest friend. Riley often made arrangements through Loretta’s and Houston’s shared talent agent, Reggie Maclaughlin, for all of us to travel together ~ particularly when it involved government covert operations such as this Playboy Club gig did. Loretta’s singing career and political ties into CIA covert operations have always been synonymous. Riley escorted her in and out of the White House on numerous occasions during the Reagan Administration.
CIA operative Ken Riley, the Neo-Nazi pedophile who functioned in the capacity of Loretta Lynn’s road manager and Project Monarch Mind-Control handler, was Alex Houston’s closest friend. Riley often made arrangements through Loretta’s and Houston’s shared talent agent, Reggie Maclaughlin, for all of us to travel together ~ particularly when it involved government covert operations such as this Playboy Club gig did. Loretta’s singing career and political ties into CIA covert operations have always been synonymous. Riley escorted her in and out of the White House on numerous occasions during the Reagan Administration.
By natural attrition, this put Riley in a secondary role as a "backup" handler for me as he often returned from D.C. with orders for and/or concerning me. Houston and Riley shared much: CIA covert operations, country music interests, Neo-Nazi and U.S. Government mind control, Project Monarch methodologies, slave running 1, pornography, cocaine, and pedophile activities. Kelly and Riley’s young daughter were often filmed pornographically together, and endured the sexual assaults of Houston and Riley 2 together on numerous occasions.
This trip to Atlantic City provided me an opportunity to talk with Loretta while her husband, Mooney, Riley and Houston met for business. Loretta and I had so much in common that our time together had been restricted from the time we met in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1981 and discussed our victimizations.3
This trip to Atlantic City provided me an opportunity to talk with Loretta while her husband, Mooney, Riley and Houston met for business. Loretta and I had so much in common that our time together had been restricted from the time we met in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1981 and discussed our victimizations.3
While alone in Loretta’s dressing room at the Playboy Club, we discussed a wide range of topics from motherhood to the White House. We talked about Reagan in terms of his role as The Wizard of Oz, but mostly we recited the general praises we were trained to say. We talked about Reagan’s "favorite" music by Air Supply, which he had supplied to us both via Riley.
Air Supply’s cryptic NASA/Project Monarch theme recordings became "life and breath" to us both according to Reagan’s intention, which locked in our programmed devotion for him. We discussed the recent Inauguration party Loretta had attended at the White House. (I was aware she had entertained there as Houston relayed information to Riley pertaining to his recent trip to Panama to meet with Panamanian Dictator and CIA operative Manuel Noriega in order that Riley deliver the information to Reagan during the Inauguration party.)
Loretta and I switched personalities spontaneously as we inadvertently triggered each other with the shared cryptic language to which we were accustomed. We discussed forbidden subjects including Noriega and Byrd until Riley and Houston caught us and separated us as though we were a couple of naughty kids. I learned more than I was supposed to about Loretta while in Atlantic City, but was never permitted another opportunity to speak with her so freely.
This trip to Atlantic City was multi-purpose, which was not unusual for government operations in which I was forced to participate. I had a major cocaine transaction involving Noriega to attend at the airport; a message to deliver to Philip Habib pertaining to the Contras, and another programmed in by Habib in answer to Reagan; country music "entertainment" aspects; and prostitution to Habib according to Reagan’s instruction.4
As the sun was setting over Atlantic City, Houston activated the Project Monarch Oz programming that was used for high level covert operations, and had me dress accordingly. I wore real and faux diamonds to signify my "Presidential Model" business role, rubies to signify my Oz programmed prostitution personality, and emeralds to signify my Oz programmed drug business.
Loretta and I switched personalities spontaneously as we inadvertently triggered each other with the shared cryptic language to which we were accustomed. We discussed forbidden subjects including Noriega and Byrd until Riley and Houston caught us and separated us as though we were a couple of naughty kids. I learned more than I was supposed to about Loretta while in Atlantic City, but was never permitted another opportunity to speak with her so freely.
This trip to Atlantic City was multi-purpose, which was not unusual for government operations in which I was forced to participate. I had a major cocaine transaction involving Noriega to attend at the airport; a message to deliver to Philip Habib pertaining to the Contras, and another programmed in by Habib in answer to Reagan; country music "entertainment" aspects; and prostitution to Habib according to Reagan’s instruction.4
As the sun was setting over Atlantic City, Houston activated the Project Monarch Oz programming that was used for high level covert operations, and had me dress accordingly. I wore real and faux diamonds to signify my "Presidential Model" business role, rubies to signify my Oz programmed prostitution personality, and emeralds to signify my Oz programmed drug business.
This physically indicated to my contact(s) which mode of operation I was under at the time. Rarely did I wear all three indicators at once, but they certainly applied in this operation with Habib. Houston led me down the waterfront boardwalk toward the hotel casino where I was to meet Habib, walking like the Oz Scarecrow and singing, "Follow the Yellow Brick Road".
Houston led me up the elaborate escalators of the hotel to a high stakes gambling area where Habib was playing cards. The guard at the door did not let Houston through, and I was sent to Habib’s table on my own. When I approached, Habib leaned back in his chair to hear while I quietly recited in Oz cryptic, "I’ve come such a long, long way to see you, Uncle Ronnie sent you something."
"What would that be?" he asked loudly as he leered at me and chuckled. I could not respond because I was under heavy program. He handed me his room key and pulled me close as he hypnotically whispered, "Use the key. Put it in the lock. Turn. Open the door, and step through a window in time." The other gamblers at Habib’s table were getting impatient, and I quickly exited the gambling room.
When I arrived in Habib’s room, two of his bodyguards accessed my programming. "Chiefly speaking," I began reciting Reagan's message. Arrangements were made for the two guards to pick up a fair sized shipment of cocaine the next morning that was arriving on a small military "brass" airplane. Houston and I would then board the plane and fly to D.C. where I would complete my part of this operation.
When Habib arrived, he ushered me into the bedroom part of the suite and began disrobing, down to his boxer shorts and gartered socks. Referring to a recent Dante porn film I was used in, he said, "I liked your ruffled tennis panties..." then threw me a pink teddy and ruffled panties resembling the tennis outfit commanding, "Put it on." I complied. He threw me a stuffed toy cat on the pillows and explained, "That kitten is going to keep this Kitten (pointing to me) from screaming. We’re going to play Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." (S&M games)
Houston led me up the elaborate escalators of the hotel to a high stakes gambling area where Habib was playing cards. The guard at the door did not let Houston through, and I was sent to Habib’s table on my own. When I approached, Habib leaned back in his chair to hear while I quietly recited in Oz cryptic, "I’ve come such a long, long way to see you, Uncle Ronnie sent you something."
"What would that be?" he asked loudly as he leered at me and chuckled. I could not respond because I was under heavy program. He handed me his room key and pulled me close as he hypnotically whispered, "Use the key. Put it in the lock. Turn. Open the door, and step through a window in time." The other gamblers at Habib’s table were getting impatient, and I quickly exited the gambling room.
When I arrived in Habib’s room, two of his bodyguards accessed my programming. "Chiefly speaking," I began reciting Reagan's message. Arrangements were made for the two guards to pick up a fair sized shipment of cocaine the next morning that was arriving on a small military "brass" airplane. Houston and I would then board the plane and fly to D.C. where I would complete my part of this operation.
When Habib arrived, he ushered me into the bedroom part of the suite and began disrobing, down to his boxer shorts and gartered socks. Referring to a recent Dante porn film I was used in, he said, "I liked your ruffled tennis panties..." then threw me a pink teddy and ruffled panties resembling the tennis outfit commanding, "Put it on." I complied. He threw me a stuffed toy cat on the pillows and explained, "That kitten is going to keep this Kitten (pointing to me) from screaming. We’re going to play Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." (S&M games)
Habib physically resembled the violent Alice in Wonderland characters, especially in his boxer shorts. The hysterical controlled laughter that rose in my throat would only have intensified his abuse and was (fortunately) choked back by terror as he begun attaching heavy rope ties to the four posters of the bed. On command, I crawled onto the bed and lay on my stomach while he tied me so tightly I was stretched. He shoved the stuffed cat under my mouth, then entered me roughly from behind and said, "Come to Poppa".
The intense pain as he brutally sodomized me was outweighed by a high voltage stun gun as he jolted me repeatedly to create the perverse jerking movements and rectal muscle constrictions he desired. I soon passed out from the blinding high voltage of his stun gun. It was nearly 3:00 AM when I stumbled out the door with the stuffed cat in my hands, nauseated, disoriented, and in extreme pain. The cool, ocean breeze helped revive me as Houston marched me back to the Playboy Club.
Houston knew I had been programmed with a message for Reagan that I would deliver the next morning in D.C. As usual, he began to access it immediately. His quick timing somehow permitted him to penetrate the electricity and programmed codes (designed to keep the information repressed) and accessed the information. Houston kept a written record of any messages he was able to access (along with photos and ledgers) for his personal profit and future blackmailing purposes, should he need to protect himself.
Houston knew I had been programmed with a message for Reagan that I would deliver the next morning in D.C. As usual, he began to access it immediately. His quick timing somehow permitted him to penetrate the electricity and programmed codes (designed to keep the information repressed) and accessed the information. Houston kept a written record of any messages he was able to access (along with photos and ledgers) for his personal profit and future blackmailing purposes, should he need to protect himself.
In this case, I surmise from Houston’s Panama activities, conversations I overheard between him and Riley, and my recollection of the messages he accessed, that his purpose in extracting this information was for his personal profit in backdoor dealings with Noriega. I understood it was these kinds of dealings that eventually contributed to Noriega’s downfall with the CIA.
Morning arrived before I was allowed to sleep, and I felt exhausted and "spacey" as I waited by the curb for Habib’s bodyguards to pick Houston and me up and take us to the airport, A small military airplane was parked in a restricted fenced in area as we arrived at the airport. The two bodyguards conducted their business and quickly loaded the trunk with the bundles of cocaine as planned. Houston and I boarded the airplane and flew to Washington, D.C. where I delivered Habib’s message to Reagan. The bank transaction numbers later checked out to be a Cayman Island account number.
Philip Habib was directly involved in various DIA/CIA Operations I was forced to participate in throughout the Reagan/Bush Administrations, Although Dick Cheney maintained his role as my Commander for these Operations, Habib directed my actions where International "Diplomatic Relations" were concerned, Cheney orchestrated events from behind his desk, whereas Habib was active in the field as Reagan’s attaché’.
The following Operations, documented in their entirety from my experience perspective only, most likely involve other aspects to which I am not privy. In typical DIA/CIA manner, scam "need to know’ information resulted in the "left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing." Nevertheless, the overall criminal purpose of Operation Carrier Pigeon and Operation Shell Game, documented herein, does not change.
Morning arrived before I was allowed to sleep, and I felt exhausted and "spacey" as I waited by the curb for Habib’s bodyguards to pick Houston and me up and take us to the airport, A small military airplane was parked in a restricted fenced in area as we arrived at the airport. The two bodyguards conducted their business and quickly loaded the trunk with the bundles of cocaine as planned. Houston and I boarded the airplane and flew to Washington, D.C. where I delivered Habib’s message to Reagan. The bank transaction numbers later checked out to be a Cayman Island account number.
Philip Habib was directly involved in various DIA/CIA Operations I was forced to participate in throughout the Reagan/Bush Administrations, Although Dick Cheney maintained his role as my Commander for these Operations, Habib directed my actions where International "Diplomatic Relations" were concerned, Cheney orchestrated events from behind his desk, whereas Habib was active in the field as Reagan’s attaché’.
The following Operations, documented in their entirety from my experience perspective only, most likely involve other aspects to which I am not privy. In typical DIA/CIA manner, scam "need to know’ information resulted in the "left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing." Nevertheless, the overall criminal purpose of Operation Carrier Pigeon and Operation Shell Game, documented herein, does not change.
1 Riley, over time, owned several slaves.
2 Riley, like my father, Wayne Cox, and other, remains apparently immune from prosecution for his crimes against children and humanity, as it is considered a matter of "’National Security" under the 1984 Reagan Amendment to the National Security Act.
3 I still have the handwritten note from Loretta that prompted out forbidden conversation and I hope that someday Loretta will gain the piece/peace-of-mind that comes with rehabilitation.
4 In the course of deprogramming, I found retrieval of this information much quicker than it would have been had Houston not accessed it previously, against government policy, and for his own personal gain.
CHAPTER 12:
OPERATION CARRIER PIGEON
The term "Pigeon" is one with which I have been familiar since the early1980s when I first began delivering messages between my "owner" Senator Byrd and Puerto Rican drug lord and CIA operative, Jose Busto. Houston had simply explained to me then, as we fed the flock of pigeons roosting at the Old San Juan Cathedral, that Pigeons were used as messengers. The DIA’s U.S. Army Lt. Colonel Michael Aquino often activated my Pigeon programming during the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations.
Dick Cheney further defined the term "Pigeon" when I learned of Operation Carrier Pigeon in the mid ’80s. He said,
The term "Pigeon" is one with which I have been familiar since the early1980s when I first began delivering messages between my "owner" Senator Byrd and Puerto Rican drug lord and CIA operative, Jose Busto. Houston had simply explained to me then, as we fed the flock of pigeons roosting at the Old San Juan Cathedral, that Pigeons were used as messengers. The DIA’s U.S. Army Lt. Colonel Michael Aquino often activated my Pigeon programming during the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations.
Dick Cheney further defined the term "Pigeon" when I learned of Operation Carrier Pigeon in the mid ’80s. He said,
"You have been selected from the flock (of programmed slaves) for the Carrier Pigeon Operation for the purpose of carrying messages from point A to point B as ordered. Pigeons, once they fly the coop, find no freedom in flight, but carry out their task of delivering their message from point A to point B by the shortest possible route ~ a direct route. I will direct your route and you will deliver messages as ordered."
But no one defined my role as a Pigeon more eloquently that President Reagan during the course of Operation Carrier Pigeon.
The cryptic "pigeon language" utilized by all participants in the operation was intermixed with The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, and "Genie in the Bottle" cryptic programming themes. While Pigeon meant messenger, "Carrier Pigeon" referred to the U.S. Air Force aircraft that actually transported the arms and drugs. "Pigeon Droppings" included the sometimes multi-national dispersal of the arms and drugs after they reached their destination. "Pigeon Holing" meant covering up the criminal activity. These definitions, as I understood them then and understand them now, may well include deeper, more diverse meanings than I have perceived.
Habib’s favorite programming theme was Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass due to its international recognition and relation to the ultra- effective NASA mirror, time, and infinity space programs for instantly dissociating programmed participants. He habitually spoke in Alice in Wonderland cryptic language, and even used it for sex as was evidenced by his Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum brutal games of perversion. Due to Habib’s orchestration of Operation Carrier Pigeon, this CIA covert operation was littered with Wonderland mirror themes from beginning to end.
My CIA handler, Alex Houston had just returned from a brief solo trip "to Florida" with an elaborately wrapped box. "It’s from a friend of yours," he told me as he handed me the box.
The cryptic "pigeon language" utilized by all participants in the operation was intermixed with The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, and "Genie in the Bottle" cryptic programming themes. While Pigeon meant messenger, "Carrier Pigeon" referred to the U.S. Air Force aircraft that actually transported the arms and drugs. "Pigeon Droppings" included the sometimes multi-national dispersal of the arms and drugs after they reached their destination. "Pigeon Holing" meant covering up the criminal activity. These definitions, as I understood them then and understand them now, may well include deeper, more diverse meanings than I have perceived.
Habib’s favorite programming theme was Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass due to its international recognition and relation to the ultra- effective NASA mirror, time, and infinity space programs for instantly dissociating programmed participants. He habitually spoke in Alice in Wonderland cryptic language, and even used it for sex as was evidenced by his Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum brutal games of perversion. Due to Habib’s orchestration of Operation Carrier Pigeon, this CIA covert operation was littered with Wonderland mirror themes from beginning to end.
My CIA handler, Alex Houston had just returned from a brief solo trip "to Florida" with an elaborately wrapped box. "It’s from a friend of yours," he told me as he handed me the box.
"Let’s go into the bedroom so you can unwrap it and see it through the "Looking Glass’."
Cryptically triggered, I mechanically walked to the bedroom as ordered. I removed the silver metallic bow and wrappings from the box and found an expensive, elegant dress made of an unusual shimmery silver fabric. A sheet of plain white stationary written in Philip Habib’s recognizable shaded blue script lay on top of the dress. It read:
The heat you radiated when we last met
melted my mirror.
I had it made into a dress just for you,
cut to accentuate your figure so that when you melt into it,
You lose yourself into
the pool of liquid mirror.
Step into the Looking Glass
Sink deep within its pool
and straddle dimensions in time.
I’ll see you there...
along with my friends.
It was signed: "Passionately, Phil Habib," with his name written upside-down under a line as though it were a mirror reflection.
Houston knew there would be a note, and ordered "Let me see your note," snatching it from my hands. He gestured toward the dress. "Go ahead and try it on while I read this note. Now let’s see, what does it say? ’Come to Poppa’?"
I took the dress from the box. It did not feel like anything I’d ever felt before. It was cold like satin, but thin like silk. I started crying quietly, afraid that Habib would somehow show up if I had it on.
"Put it on and I’ll zip you in," Houston said as he took another note from his wallet and read it as I undressed:
Houston knew there would be a note, and ordered "Let me see your note," snatching it from my hands. He gestured toward the dress. "Go ahead and try it on while I read this note. Now let’s see, what does it say? ’Come to Poppa’?"
I took the dress from the box. It did not feel like anything I’d ever felt before. It was cold like satin, but thin like silk. I started crying quietly, afraid that Habib would somehow show up if I had it on.
"Put it on and I’ll zip you in," Houston said as he took another note from his wallet and read it as I undressed:
There’s a pair of magic shoes to wear with your dress,
Something in-lightening,
to transport you faster than the ol’ ruby slippers (Oz)
The shoes, like the dress, are made just for you,
and when you wear them you’ll be fit for a King,
I’ll send them for you at the appropriate time.
Houston tucked the note back in his wallet, "See. You’re not going anywhere now. You’ll meet him at the White House when you have shoes to wear with it. Just slip it on."
I did. Houston accessed Habib’s Wonderland brutal sex programming for his own gratification. Afterwards I hung the dress in Kelly’s closet with my other trigger-significant clothes; out of sight, out of mind. Until the shoes arrived...
Habib "sent the shoes for me" soon afterward. They were shiny black with what appeared to be silver lightning bolts down the high heels and sides. In place of dinner that night, Houston gave me a "Wonderland Wafer" (MDHMA-XTC CIA designer drug "Ecstasy"). The wafer, like all those supplied by Habib, bore his trademark that read "Eat me".
I did. Houston accessed Habib’s Wonderland brutal sex programming for his own gratification. Afterwards I hung the dress in Kelly’s closet with my other trigger-significant clothes; out of sight, out of mind. Until the shoes arrived...
Habib "sent the shoes for me" soon afterward. They were shiny black with what appeared to be silver lightning bolts down the high heels and sides. In place of dinner that night, Houston gave me a "Wonderland Wafer" (MDHMA-XTC CIA designer drug "Ecstasy"). The wafer, like all those supplied by Habib, bore his trademark that read "Eat me".
I began to prepare for the night out as instructed. Houston zipped me into the dress, and turned me to face the mirror. As I slipped into the shoes, Houston took another note from Habib out of his pocket and read:
Something in-lightening to tranceport you faster
than the ol’ ruby slippers.
Click your heels together (I obeyed) and be there in a snap.
Electrifying-with the rumble of thunder.
Boiling through time
So you won’t be late for a very important date.
Houston hit me with his stun gun and I passed out. He then drove me to the Nashville airport where I boarded a small plane to Washington, D.C.
I found myself at the White House with Byrd, attending another small cocktail party of about 20-30 people. After we spoke with Reagan, Byrd pointed me in the direction of Philip Habib and sent me over to him. My eyes were locked on Habib’s as he hypnotically said:
I found myself at the White House with Byrd, attending another small cocktail party of about 20-30 people. After we spoke with Reagan, Byrd pointed me in the direction of Philip Habib and sent me over to him. My eyes were locked on Habib’s as he hypnotically said:
Melt into your melted mirror
for an electrifying ride.
Look deep into the black
of my melting mirror eyes,
See you reflecting me, reflecting you,
reflecting me ~ you-me ~ you ~ me
until we melt together and sink deep
into the other side.
Habib took me to a quieter spot in an adjoining room and held up another wonderland Wafer as he said in Alice in Wonderland cryptic, "Welcome to Wonderland, Kitten. This is a very important date. I haven’t time to explain. He gave me the wafer and continued, "Eat it, and I’ll take you through the door."
Habib took me by the hand and led me to the doorway of another room. It was a dining room of sorts where an informal array of guests was gathered. As soon as Habib appeared in the doorway, King Fahd of Saudi Arabia quickly excused himself from the table and approached. He was wearing a multicolored robe and headwear with a black-brown rope band. I was instantly repulsed by his "wicked" lecherous gaze; I stepped back into the other room in fear. Habib introduced him. "This is one of ’my friends’ I mentioned in my letter."
I robotically responded, "It’s a pleasure to meet you" and extended my hand as taught in Charm School. Fahd bent over to kiss my hand. As he did, his evil black eyes bore into mine as he softly said, "Your beauty warms my embers. See them glowing deep within the darkness of my eyes ~ igniting into flame-black flame." He laughed wickedly at the effect of his use of NASA hypnotic conditioning.
Habib slapped him on the shoulder as though they knew each other well and there were no formalities between them and asked, "Am I right? Is that fit for a King?"’
The three of us went into another room that appeared to be a guest bedroom that Habib was occupying. He closed the door and told me,
Habib took me by the hand and led me to the doorway of another room. It was a dining room of sorts where an informal array of guests was gathered. As soon as Habib appeared in the doorway, King Fahd of Saudi Arabia quickly excused himself from the table and approached. He was wearing a multicolored robe and headwear with a black-brown rope band. I was instantly repulsed by his "wicked" lecherous gaze; I stepped back into the other room in fear. Habib introduced him. "This is one of ’my friends’ I mentioned in my letter."
I robotically responded, "It’s a pleasure to meet you" and extended my hand as taught in Charm School. Fahd bent over to kiss my hand. As he did, his evil black eyes bore into mine as he softly said, "Your beauty warms my embers. See them glowing deep within the darkness of my eyes ~ igniting into flame-black flame." He laughed wickedly at the effect of his use of NASA hypnotic conditioning.
Habib slapped him on the shoulder as though they knew each other well and there were no formalities between them and asked, "Am I right? Is that fit for a King?"’
The three of us went into another room that appeared to be a guest bedroom that Habib was occupying. He closed the door and told me,
"Diplomatic relations are very important. You know the old saying ’when in Rome do as Romans do’. Well, he’s a King. Get on your knees. His wish is your command. Satisfy his deepest wishes. It’s your turn for a magic carpet ride, so turn your Genie free."
Fahd was sitting in a chair by a coffee table. As I knelt on the carpel in front of him, his piercing black eyes seemed to stab into my brain like swords. I could not turn away. He stroked my neck with his index finger, activating oral sex programming. "I have heard about you and am in-tent on having you."
Somehow he found the slit in his robes and parted it as he continued, "Come into my tent ~ A feast has been spread for you." He spread his legs and exposed his penis ~ one of the nastiest I had ever seen ~ like a black night crawler worm that smelled and tasted strongly of spice. Habib watched as I carried out my orders, much to the pleasure of Fahd,
Then Habib went to the chest of drawers and began pulling out his electric prod and bondage equipment as he explained.
Then Habib went to the chest of drawers and began pulling out his electric prod and bondage equipment as he explained.
"Now let me introduce you to my other ’friend’. I need to bottle up a message with your Genie and send it out to sea. You know what to do. Begin undressing now."
I did as I was told and lay on my stomach on the bed while Habib sodomized me. He used his electric prod equipment and programmed me with a message to deliver to General Manuel Noriega while on an upcoming NCL cruise.
I was at sea on board an NCL cruise ship bound for their private island in the Bahamas, Stirrup Cay, which was to be my rendezvous point with Noriega, "Bottled up" in my mind through the recent ’Genie in the Bottle’ programming, was a cryptic message from King Fahd to Noriega. It was a moonless night whereby the Caribbean waters appeared as black as the night. I could not distinguish the sky from the sea in accordance with NASA hypnotic conditioning.
I was at sea on board an NCL cruise ship bound for their private island in the Bahamas, Stirrup Cay, which was to be my rendezvous point with Noriega, "Bottled up" in my mind through the recent ’Genie in the Bottle’ programming, was a cryptic message from King Fahd to Noriega. It was a moonless night whereby the Caribbean waters appeared as black as the night. I could not distinguish the sky from the sea in accordance with NASA hypnotic conditioning.
I gazed, totally entranced, from the rear of the cruise ship. Houston used the opportunity to hypnotically enhance Habib’s previous programming, while traumatizing me with the threat of being thrown overboard. The thought of "treading water in the inky blackness while the lights of the ship fade further ~ and further ~ away-until all is black and I sink-to the depths of the sea" did not seem so horrible in tight of the fact that I was to be the bearer of bad news to Noriega in the morning.
Upon arrival to NCL’s Stirrup Cay, Houston and I began our usual walking trek to the farthest end of the island where the CIA operations radio station and equipment were located. In a hidden cove on the island’s back side was a smaller island of sufficient size to conceal Noriega’s personal yacht, anchored behind it.
Upon arrival to NCL’s Stirrup Cay, Houston and I began our usual walking trek to the farthest end of the island where the CIA operations radio station and equipment were located. In a hidden cove on the island’s back side was a smaller island of sufficient size to conceal Noriega’s personal yacht, anchored behind it.
As Houston and I made our way along the cove’s beach, we came upon an old wooden boat half buried in the sand and a man sitting beside it. Because I was in a different personality, I did not recognize the man as my contact who ran the Stirrup Cay control tower for drug trafficking and covert activity. I asked him how he got there.
He began his charade, which, due to the depths of my trance, I believed in its literal text, while Houston heard quite a different story:
"I shipwrecked." John (the name I called him) pointed to the boat half buried in the sand, "That’s all that is left of my boat."
I asked, "Why haven’t you been rescued?"
He cryptically replied, "I sent a message in a bottle and I expect a response real soon. Good thing I had these coconuts (he was carving one) and all that ’sugar’ in the hull to sustain me."
Houston laughed, immediately realizing that ’sugar’ meant cocaine and said, surprised, "In the hull?" as he bent down to look inside the wreck. I looked, too. There was more white cocaine and (dark) cocaine paste than I could mule (carry) in one walking haul, even with both of my tote bags full. But I could not comprehend reality in the midst of this charade, and therefore commented that he was fortunate that both the "white and brown sugar" had made it through the wreck.
Houston said, "So, they cast you away, huh?"
My contact laughed and sniffed, "Yeah, cast me away with all that ’sugar’ ~ that’s nothing to sniff at." He looked up as Houston informed him a speedboat was approaching; I looked out across the cove beyond the little island and finally noticed Noriega’s yacht. A "black mirror" finish speed boat, which matched the upper smoke glass windows of Noriega’s yacht, was approaching. John told me, "Probably has something to do with that message I sent. Help me wave him in." I did.
Houston said, "So, they cast you away, huh?"
My contact laughed and sniffed, "Yeah, cast me away with all that ’sugar’ ~ that’s nothing to sniff at." He looked up as Houston informed him a speedboat was approaching; I looked out across the cove beyond the little island and finally noticed Noriega’s yacht. A "black mirror" finish speed boat, which matched the upper smoke glass windows of Noriega’s yacht, was approaching. John told me, "Probably has something to do with that message I sent. Help me wave him in." I did.
He handed me a coconut and, using it as a scramble and excuse for me to join him on Noriega’s yacht, persuaded me to board the speed boat with him. Houston stayed behind to guard the cocaine that had obviously already been delivered from Noriega's yacht.
When we pulled up to the rear of the yacht, I was helped on board by Noriega’s armed guards. I noticed there did not seem to be any big parties going on as was customary, and Noriega seemed unusually abrupt and businesslike. He was not drunk this time. Upon command from John, I delivered Fahd’s message:
When we pulled up to the rear of the yacht, I was helped on board by Noriega’s armed guards. I noticed there did not seem to be any big parties going on as was customary, and Noriega seemed unusually abrupt and businesslike. He was not drunk this time. Upon command from John, I delivered Fahd’s message:
"I am under command to deliver a message from King Fahd. The Caribbean is becoming volatile. Trouble in Jamaica, Trouble in Cuba, Even trouble in Panama. Dominican Republic must be launching point for missiles and artillery that are being channeled though Cuba. Concluding arms deal, Carrier Pigeon must be detained until all transactions are cleared. Banco de Panama to receive Contra Aid after all steps leading to me have been swept away by the shifting sands (of time), and all pigeon droppings pigeon holed. Our business is concluded. Let us part on friendly terms"
My personal perception of history as it happened in reality remains somewhat distorted, as I had no access to "news" outside of my mind-controlled environment. In order to keep my memory retrieval free of contamination, I completed the deprogramming process before "educating" myself through books And news. I have since learned that what was reported as news was often distorted propaganda, and many events were never reported at all.
Therefore, I do not know of the "troubles in Jamaica and Cuba" to which King Fahd referred. I was aware, however, that due to outside scrutiny, Houston had recently met with Jamaican officials in Kingston pertaining to ceasing the long standing criminal covert operations. As for Cuba, I only knew that I was no longer meeting with my Cuban contact. In Panama, I knew Noriega himself was the object of controversy.
The "arms deal" was the final stage of Operation Carrier Pigeon where the planes were to wait in Saudi Arabia until all bank transactions were cleared and the load was ready for disbursement. Saudi Arabian King Fahd would then fund the Contras via Noriega for Reagan after all evidences had been properly covered up ~ just as he had done in Afghanistan.
After the shipment, there would be no further deals through Noriega involving Fahd, because Noriega could no longer be trusted. Besides, Fahd had increased diplomatic relations with Mexico for covert operations, and Iran-Contra was just beginning to heat up.
Noriega did not seem to be upset by the news of losing Saudi Arabian business, although he was somber and took some time to respond. His translator was working over some complex computer equipment after I delivered the message. I left Noriega’s yacht with John and a brief message for Dick Cheney at the Pentagon.
Back on Stirrup Cay, Houston was anxiously waiting to begin transporting the cocaine back to the party area of the island. There, NCL workers were cleaning up from the cruise ship’s beach party cookout, which was NCL’s excuse to stop the ship. After I muled the first heavy load of cocaine in my tote sacks, Houston approached one worker familiar with the drug operation and informed him we had a heavier load than usual and needed to make another trip.
After the shipment, there would be no further deals through Noriega involving Fahd, because Noriega could no longer be trusted. Besides, Fahd had increased diplomatic relations with Mexico for covert operations, and Iran-Contra was just beginning to heat up.
Noriega did not seem to be upset by the news of losing Saudi Arabian business, although he was somber and took some time to respond. His translator was working over some complex computer equipment after I delivered the message. I left Noriega’s yacht with John and a brief message for Dick Cheney at the Pentagon.
Back on Stirrup Cay, Houston was anxiously waiting to begin transporting the cocaine back to the party area of the island. There, NCL workers were cleaning up from the cruise ship’s beach party cookout, which was NCL’s excuse to stop the ship. After I muled the first heavy load of cocaine in my tote sacks, Houston approached one worker familiar with the drug operation and informed him we had a heavier load than usual and needed to make another trip.
The worker directed us to a huge empty food container used for transporting cook out supplies from the ship, and gave us the key. We locked the first load in the container, and I took my empty tote sacks, plus another straw bag back for another haul. With the second load, Houston even carried some cocaine: himself. We had to run quite a distance through the island woods in an attempt to make it back to the ship’s shuttle before scheduled departure time. When we arrived, the beach was nearly deserted, as all the passengers had been taken back to the ship. All that remained was the food container and the NCL worker who was hurrying us onto the shuttle and on board the ship, which was waiting for us.
When the cruise ship docked at the Port of Miami, Puerto Rican drug lord and CIA operative Jose Busto was acting as a U.S. Immigrations officer (commissioned by the Drug Enforcement Agency through the CIA), which he often did for NCL. Busto helped us clear ship undetected with the large load of cocaine. The drugs were packed into suitcases, and then loaded into Houston’s specially made motor home which was parked in NCL’s guarded, restricted parking lot.
When the cruise ship docked at the Port of Miami, Puerto Rican drug lord and CIA operative Jose Busto was acting as a U.S. Immigrations officer (commissioned by the Drug Enforcement Agency through the CIA), which he often did for NCL. Busto helped us clear ship undetected with the large load of cocaine. The drugs were packed into suitcases, and then loaded into Houston’s specially made motor home which was parked in NCL’s guarded, restricted parking lot.
Most of the cocaine was dropped off as usual at Warner Robbins Air Force Base in Macon, Georgia, to be distributed to destinations unknown to me. The money generated by the sale of cocaine was supposedly used to fund a major arms shipment into Saudi Arabia. These weapons were reportedly distributed among several neighboring countries. The profits were then relayed into Reagan’s Contra Cause.
A large quantity of cocaine was retained by Houston for his own use and delivery for personal profit through his country music industry contacts. Some of the cocaine would be delivered by me to Saudi Arabian Ambassador, Prince Bandar Bin Sultan, Fahd’s own "Homing Pigeon".
I carried a message from Warner Robbins Air Force Base in addition to the message from Noriega agreeing to Fahd’s terms back to Dick Cheney at the Pentagon. Cheney then prepared me for the final phase of the operation. This was a meeting with Prince Bandar (who Cheney, Houston, and others referred to as Sultan) in Nashville, Tennessee where he often visited corrupt friends.
A large quantity of cocaine was retained by Houston for his own use and delivery for personal profit through his country music industry contacts. Some of the cocaine would be delivered by me to Saudi Arabian Ambassador, Prince Bandar Bin Sultan, Fahd’s own "Homing Pigeon".
I carried a message from Warner Robbins Air Force Base in addition to the message from Noriega agreeing to Fahd’s terms back to Dick Cheney at the Pentagon. Cheney then prepared me for the final phase of the operation. This was a meeting with Prince Bandar (who Cheney, Houston, and others referred to as Sultan) in Nashville, Tennessee where he often visited corrupt friends.
There, I would relay a message of agreement to Fahd’s terms between Noriega and the U.S., as well as confirm all Air Force flights (Carrier Pigeons) and bank transactions. In turn, Fahd’s "Homing Pigeon" would relay the messages to Fahd so that the seemingly long running drugs for arms deals would draw to a successful conclusion.
Dick Cheney cautioned me, "Sultan will be in Nashville having dinner with friends at the Stockyard." (The Stockyard was a popular country music dinner club known for its CIA criminal covert activity involvement.) Cheney glanced at the list on his desk and continued,
Dick Cheney cautioned me, "Sultan will be in Nashville having dinner with friends at the Stockyard." (The Stockyard was a popular country music dinner club known for its CIA criminal covert activity involvement.) Cheney glanced at the list on his desk and continued,
"Among others, those friends would be (Mayor) Fulton1 and (Sheriff) Thomas.2 They are considered a threat to the operation. They’re not discrete. Thomas in particular is not to be trusted ~ he’s an ass and too crooked. So, Sultan must leave the table before the message is delivered. Any questions? Good."
I certainly had no questions this time. I did not need him to caution me about Nashville’s Mayor Richard Fulton whom Houston had prostituted me to, and Sheriff Fate Thomas. I had known the pair for years, had been cautioned about them before, and had no respect for them at all. Together Thomas and Fulton had indiscreetly perpetuated the total corruption that had permeated Nashville’s $2.8 billion country music industry, which ran the city of Nashville.
They ran the city’s business from a bar ~ the Stockyard ~ while they drank and openly used cocaine. If I had had the capacity to wonder, I would have wondered what a "Homing Pigeon" so critical to the conclusion of this international criminal covert operation was doing with such low level sleaze. As it was, I could only sense relief at not having to deal with them, too.
Prince Bandar Bin Sultan’s reputation for sex and drugs was widely known in Nashville. But much of my information pertaining to his activities came from one of my closest Project Monarch friends. She is an entertainer’s daughter who was prostituted regularly to Sultan when he was in town, which was often.
When Cheney was through with me, Byrd escorted me to the White House to see Reagan, who also cautioned me about the Prince. Reagan was aware of Habib’s having activated me sexually with King Fahd, and made it clear that my scheduled rendezvous with Prince Bandar would not include the usual sex.
Reagan joked in Byrd’s presence,
Prince Bandar Bin Sultan’s reputation for sex and drugs was widely known in Nashville. But much of my information pertaining to his activities came from one of my closest Project Monarch friends. She is an entertainer’s daughter who was prostituted regularly to Sultan when he was in town, which was often.
When Cheney was through with me, Byrd escorted me to the White House to see Reagan, who also cautioned me about the Prince. Reagan was aware of Habib’s having activated me sexually with King Fahd, and made it clear that my scheduled rendezvous with Prince Bandar would not include the usual sex.
Reagan joked in Byrd’s presence,
"Birds (Byrds) may well be eaten by a Kitten. (Reagan’s pet name for me), but not Homing Pigeons. Homing Pigeons taste foul."
Byrd laughed. Reagan continued, "Homing Pigeons have one purpose. Passing messages. Throughout history world leaders have passed messages to and from each other by way of pigeons. Messages that have set the course of events that have altered the course of history.
Homing Pigeons are loyal and dedicated to their task, flying over seas, yet never pausing long enough to even quench their thirst-giving no thought to their own needs. When a pigeon is released, he takes a direct course to his destination. Dedicated to delivering the very messages on which history was founded.
Why, even Noah relied on a pigeon to traverse the seas to bring back a message of hope. It is your duty to attach an added message to the Horning Pigeon ~ one of peace, from our homeland lo his: One from the President of the United States to King Fahd of Saudi Arabia, ... (Omitted due to international ramification.)"
Byrd was visibly inspired by the speech. I was literally saved by the bell from another boring, long winded recitation that Reagan had just inspired in Byrd when Cheney telephoned me back to his office. It was still morning and Cheney had appeared very busy, hurried, and irritable when I had seen him just a short time earlier. My heart was heavy in expectant anticipation of the physical and sexual brutality Cheney’s moods normally incited.
Yet I was relieved to escape the torturous "picture painting" competition that experience had taught me Byrd and Reagan were about to embark on. My heart lightened when my escort left me at Cheney’s office and I noticed his foul mood had changed dramatically.
"I understand you ordered me to report in, Sir." Cheney looked up from his desk where he was shuffling through papers and tying up loose ends before leaving his office.
"Sit down." he ordered, "I just got word that the Genie in the Bottle ’Cast-away’ Operation is complete and I intend to pop a cork or two of my own in celebration of its successful conclusion. I have time on my hands and want you to join me. The bunkhouse is being prepared..."
Cheney apparently thought of something, went to the door and told the guy who had escorted me, "Make sure there’s some Wonderland Wafers in the bunkhouse," He walked to his desk, picked up the phone and said, "I’m outta here" into it and slammed it down.
I followed Cheney out the door, and we turned to the right rather than the left outside his office and walked to his personal quarters referred to as the bunkhouse. It was decorated in Cheney’s western style in browns and tans, with leather furniture. There was no food (maybe some nuts stashed somewhere), but plenty of bottles of alcohol.
I was swollen and bleeding vaginally, the bottom of my shirt was soaked in blood, and my belly hurt deep inside when my escort finally came for me early the next morning. Staying around Cheney while he slept was as deadly a mistake as removing his clothes or questioning him ~ it was forbidden.
I was swollen and bleeding vaginally, the bottom of my shirt was soaked in blood, and my belly hurt deep inside when my escort finally came for me early the next morning. Staying around Cheney while he slept was as deadly a mistake as removing his clothes or questioning him ~ it was forbidden.
This time he broke his own rule, and did not even punish me for it when morning arrived. He had spent so many hours drinking alcohol and using his enormous penis as an assault weapon that he passed out shortly before my escort arrived. As I walked into the hall, I doubled over from pain. My escort turned to Cheney and remarked, "Christ, Cheney".
Cheney lifted his head and proudly slurred, "Now you know why they call it ’Dick’".
Back in Tennessee, my CIA-paid gynecologist, who knew I was under mind control, covered for my abusers as usual and wrote me a prescription for swelling and pain, I was still in pain and ill from my exposure to Dick Cheney and his high voltage torture and brutal sex when Houston drove me to Nashville’s Stockyard Nightclub for my rendezvous with Prince Bandar Bin Sultan.
A waitress led me to the Saudi Arabian Ambassador’s table where he was drinking with Mayor Fulton, Sheriff Thomas and Metro Police Chief Joe Casey.3 I approached him and said,
Cheney lifted his head and proudly slurred, "Now you know why they call it ’Dick’".
Back in Tennessee, my CIA-paid gynecologist, who knew I was under mind control, covered for my abusers as usual and wrote me a prescription for swelling and pain, I was still in pain and ill from my exposure to Dick Cheney and his high voltage torture and brutal sex when Houston drove me to Nashville’s Stockyard Nightclub for my rendezvous with Prince Bandar Bin Sultan.
A waitress led me to the Saudi Arabian Ambassador’s table where he was drinking with Mayor Fulton, Sheriff Thomas and Metro Police Chief Joe Casey.3 I approached him and said,
"If you please, Sir (Oz), I am under command to deliver a message to you from the Pentagon. There is to be no horse play (sex games). We must get down to business."
There was laughter from everyone at the table. I continued.
"My message is brief and I only need a moment of your time away from your dinner."
The Prince’s face grew more serious and we left the table. He touched the waitress' arm and she pointed to a door across the hall that led to an empty room. We stood just inside the room, and I quickly delivered ray Pigeon cryptic message:
"The Carrier Pigeon (Air Force airplane) will take flight... and will keep its promise (the agreed load) while all transactions (both bank and distribution) are procured through the designated diplomatic channels (Habib.) Your bonus, one crystal, three cuts await you. The President of the United States gives his word to King Fahd: ..."
He told me his driver would meet me out from of the Stockyard and instructed me to put the cocaine in the back, I left the building to rejoin Houston at the car in order that the cocaine could be delivered. A white stretch limousine was pulled up in front of the Stockyard; Chief Casey’s assigned Metro Police Officers guarded the area, and the cocaine was transferred into the back seat of the Prince’s limo. Houston and I immediately left the area.
My part in Operation Carrier Pigeon was concluded.
1 Richard Fulton and his bank were under Federal investigation as of 1991.
2 Fate Thomas is currently serving time in a Federal penitentiary for bribery and extortion.
3 Recently under Federal investigation for corruption.
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