Sometime prior to the death of CIA Chief William Casey, I was in Washington, D.C. for a briefing on Operation Shell Game. Iran-Contra was politically explosive at this time, and U.S. Senator Allen Simpson (R. Wyoming) had a plan to set Panamanian General Manuel Noriega up to take the fall for cocaine aspects of the investigation. Noriega had become yet another source of embarrassment to the Reagan-Bush Administration.
My role began one cold, rainy day when Houston dropped me off at the Washington Monument where I was met by two agents, who triggered me to go with them by flashing their IDs. They escorted me 10 the large White House Office where I had first met Cheney to "audition" for the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations some years before. As usual, Cheney and Reagan were drinking, this time to excess for so early in the day. Reagan’s cheeks were flushed and his voice slurred as he greeted me, "Well, hello, Kitten. Dick and I were just discussing the plight of the Contras since this Ollie North thing broke out."
"And I believe in the Contra cause and all that we have accomplished. And I’m damn proud of it! It’s not ’Law and Order’. No, it’s Order and then Law. Order must come first because without it, law would be ineffective.
“Sometimes we must rise above and beyond the law to establish that order (he glanced seriously at Cheney) ~ or a new (world) order. As President, that is my responsibility. Establish order through democracy by spreading democracy throughout the world. With order, there is peace. Right now in Nicaragua the people are crying out for democracy, for peace, and I cannot turn a deaf ear to them.
“Not even in view of Ollie North’s troubles. True Americans know he is a hero. That’s why we must rise above the law to establish order by fulfilling the wishes, the hopes, the dreams of those brave men fighting for freedom by doing our part in spreading democracy."
Cheney lost patience and jumped from his chair to sneer at me and poke his finger in my chest while he said, "Order is all that matters, and you’re going to follow mine."
Reagan turned back to us.
"I’m glad you brought that up, Dick. Kitten, you have a role in establishing this order With the same patriotic passion that burned in your bosom for the freedom fighters of Afghanistan, you will carry out your orders for the Contras. Dick will define your role and provide you with all you need and all you need to know from the ol’ Wizard’s bag in the basement (Oz programming in Cheney’s Pentagon office). So, you run along now and do as he commands."
"Operation Shell Game is Simpson’s brain child, so he’s master of the game and he’s going to teach you the rules. The objective of the game is to see ’who’s left holding the goods".
Simpson stood up and began cryptically talking.
"You are going on a ’Princes’ Cruise’ (Noriega’s Yacht). The Baby’s Ear Shell is your pass key. I will provide you with yours at the appropriate time."
"These are but empty shells of the life they once possessed. Like you are ~ empty and void of life. A shell. In one ear and out the other. I have your ear now LISTEN, if they hold the pass key, you listen. When you hold the pass key, you speak. In one ear and out the other-never again to be retrieved."
"Listen. Follow orders. The Colonel (Aquino) will be there and you will follow his orders and provide a demonstration Hands On style for the General (Noriega). It will be different, yet the same, so follow the Colonel’s orders closely."
"Or, I’ll get her, my pretty, your little girl. Follow orders as though her life depends upon it because it does. Or the next baby’s ear will be taken from Kelly. So listen. When you see the baby’s ear, you will listen."
Cheney look me back to the White House office where we had started. He and Reagan shared another drink. Reagan patted my hair back in place where Cheney had pulled it, which made me feel safe somehow since I could not comprehend that he was behind my ordeal with Cheney.
Cheney said, "How in the hell you drink cognac and eat those goddamn jellybeans is beyond me. Reagan responded, "Well, Dick, you don’t have to have a Jelly Belly if you don’t want to. I was just giving one to Kitten, here."
"Damn right I don’t have to have a Jelly Belly, but you’re going to have a jelly belly if you keep that shit up." Cheney finished his drink.
Reagan chuckled, "Now, you know I watch my figure.”
"Figure this," Cheney interrupted. "What are you going to do with the Contras?" Cheney slammed down his drink and headed for the door.
"Exactly what I’ve been doing." Reagan turned to me, "C’mon, Kitten, Let’s take a walk, I need my evening constitutional"
"If you follow the Yellow Brick Road, it leads right to the Wizard’s lair ~ the Oval Office, How would you like to see where Uncle Ronnie really solves the world’s problems?"
Operation Shell Game brought me back in touch with former President Gerald Ford early one misty fall morning. Ford’s continued relationships with my abusers had given me cause to remain in touch with him throughout the years; particularly since he and my father were still jointly active in the Michigan organized crime drugs and pornography operation that had launched me into Project Monarch so many years before.
Ford was about to embark on a game of golf with my father on the otherwise "Closed for the Season" golf course next to my father’s expensive house in affluent Grand Haven, Michigan. My brother, Mike, was with my father and me as we rendezvoused at the Club House with Ford and the Secret Service personnel assigned to him.
"If you please, Sir," I began in Oz cryptic, "I have a message for you from Uncle Ronnie. It’s a ’humming telegram’ (oral sex game) to see if you agree that our National Anthem should be changed to America the Beautiful," (Reagan was actually serious about changing our National Anthem.)
Ford responded, "We may have to see about that later. First, we’ve got some other ’holes’ to attend before the sun gets up any higher." As he teed up his golf ball I asked, "Do you still golf a lot now that you’re no longer President?"
He said very seriously, "I golfed a lot when I was President. But now, I just keep up with events from the golf course. I’ve earned the privilege of monitoring the progress of America’s Freedom Train at my leisure." He turned to face me, "Do you play golf yet?"
"Very well, Sir, when permitted." (Houston always ensured he won.) Ford was openly amused by my answer and handed me his club. "Give it your best shot." I out shot him the first stroke and his amusement vanished. I gave him back his golf club as ordered.
"Take this message to Dick Cheney, Pentagon. The Mob has agreed to transfer the $2.3 million (porn profits) to the Bank of Credit and Commerce International. Let’s pool our money now and we’ll be swimming in it. This operation has been an enterprising success. Let’s keep it that way. Cease agreement with Panama. All Mexican channels are implemented (cocaine and heroin). Hail to the Chief."
After he hit the golf ball, he asked,
"How’s my friend, Allen Simpson, these days?"
"Very well, Sir." I noticed he bristled as be missed another shot. His temper was rising. When he wanted to add more to his message, he took out his frustration on me, "Gimme that fucking shell." He wiggled his fingers at me. That wasn’t the pass phrase and I did not trigger. He grew louder and more agitated, "Where’s that Baby’s Ear." I still could not respond.
"Lend me your goddamn ear!!" he roared at me. Close enough.
"Yes, Sir," I responded meekly as I dropped it in his hand.
He proceeded. "Tell Simpson to take care of my friend Dick Thomburgh. Get back to me on it."
When we met up with my father at the third hole. Ford set up his ball first, of course, and waving his club at me said, "Get out of here before I get teed off." My father pointed the way with a thumb over his shoulder and let out a shrill whistle. My brother, Mike, walked me through the bushes and back to my father’s house.
My sister, Kelli Jo, was waiting tearfully for my return. She was MPDed and horrified of Ford. She and my little sister, Kimmy, and I had all been forced to sexually gratify Ford just prior to a special ordered porn film titled Three Little Kittens whereby his semen was filmed "anonymously".
I did not see the Baby’s Ear shell spirit until Kelly and I arrived in Bradenton Beach, Florida. I drove the motor home into Florida with Houston and Kelly along, and dropped Houston off at the Tampa airport, since he did not have a role in Operation Shell Game. He "had business at Boys Town in Omaha, Nebraska" where the wayward boys were being traumatized and sexually abused in accordance with the Catholic involvement in Project Monarch.
The recreation room of the campground was actually a harmonics programming operation, and the offices were filled with elaborate computers consistent with high-level CIA operations. The day Kelly and I met with Senator Simpson, I had been instructed by campground workers to drive to nearby Santa Maria Island where we were to collect unusual shells. Kelly and I were on the "wild side" of the island hunting sand dollars because they had "BIRDS" in them.
Simpson showed me the shell in his hand and began,
"You. You alone will take the shuttle boat to your Princes’ cruise. It will leave the dock from your own backyard (Oz) at 7:30 pm. Dress appropriately (Houston had ensured the proper attire had been packed). You will be escorted to the conference room and on into the top deck. You will see as you approach the ship (Noriega’s yacht); the top deck is surrounded in black mirrors. Look deep into the mirror; that is where you will be. And where I will be when next we meet"
"They’re very rare indeed. This one is the right ear. You must go to the other side of the island, out Long Boat Key, to find its match. The Colonel (Aquino) has the baby’s left ear and will meet you at the Pier at 4 pm. Stop at the little market on the corner and call. Then it’s just down the street a little ways."
When Aquino approached with two Dobermans on leashes, I told him Simpson had sent me there looking for the left baby’s ear. He opened his hand to reveal "all that was left-the baby’s ear-the dogs had devoured and consumed the rest of the baby." It was bloody, ragged, and bluish rather than pink. Whether or not this was an actual baby’s ear, the impact was the same. I put Kelly further behind me away from the dogs. I stood traumatized and entranced, ready for command. Aquino instructed me in full detail on the night’s activities, and that I was to leave Kelly with campground personnel until my return.
That evening I was taken lo Noriega’s yacht in the bay via a small motorboat. I triggered and tranced further as I approached the familiar "black mirrored" yacht according to plan. I was helped onto the back of the yacht by Panamanian "palace" guards who kept me there at gunpoint until I was cleared and my Baby’s Ear pass key accepted. I was escorted past the Air Force Base officials, their wives, drug people, and the vast amounts of cocaine laid out for them.
Simpson spoke softly,
"You’re on the other side of the black mirror now (NASA programming), peering though the blackness out to sea. Sea of black. Riding on a sea of black, drifting, drifting from the winds. Deep into the blackness. Drifting through the sands of time. Black sands, yielding shells ~ such as this Baby’s Ear."
"If you please, Sir, I have a message from the President of the United States of America: The successes we have enjoyed in our shared endeavors are now history in the making, whose course cannot be altered ~ regardless of the imminent lifting of the veil by well intentioned do-gooders. As this veil is lifted, it may shed light on you. So you must have your house in order, as does Ollie North, and cease any and all detectable activity I will do my best to keep you under shield and out of view if you comply with these orders and cease all detectable activity at once."
Aquino’s manner was side-show-style rather than the usual somber tones used on Military bases for the Hands On demonstrations.
"General, for your entertainment and in respect and appreciation of your successful enterprising ’Contra-bution’, the Chief has sent his Presidential Model to demonstrate the latest technology in mind-control advancements. With the flip of a switch, this Pigeon becomes a Kitten (I began undressing). Quite a different animal."
Aquino ordered me to lie on the bed and invited Noriega to look closer at what the "Wizard" ~ "his Chief (Reagan)" ~ could create. Noriega stepped closer to see what Aquino was pointing out to him between my breasts. A large, carved baphomet appeared. Aquino had hypnotically regressed me to the time of its making which caused it to seemingly "suddenly appear" right before Noriega’s eyes.
Noriega predictably interpreted the demonstration as a threat from the depths of HELL, which should have been enough to heed Reagan’s commands to break the drug trafficking ties immediately. (Apparently this is not the case as is evidenced by Noriega’s continued Florida incarceration.)
As I approached the dock of the campground, the boat driver told me I would find Kelly asleep in the ’recreation’ room. I ran to her, and, fearful of Cheney’s threat, made sure her ears were still intact. I was immensely relieved to find them still there and to know she was "OK" (I could not think to wonder what she had endured in my absence.)
I met up with Bill Clinton again in 1982 at a county fair in Berryville, Arkansas. Alex Houston was "entertaining" there due to the close proximity of the CIA Near Death Trauma Center (aka slave conditioning and programming camp) and drug distribution point at Swiss Villa in Lampe. Missouri. I had just endured intense physical and psychological trauma and programming, Clinton was campaigning for Governor and was backstage with Hillary and Chelsea while waiting to make a speech.
From my perspective, those who were actively laying the groundwork for implementing the New World Order through mind conditioning of the masses made no distinction between Democratic and Republican Parties. Their aspirations were international in proportion, not American. Members were often drawn from, among other elitist groups, the Council on Foreign Relations. Like George Bush, Bill Clinton was an active member of the CFR, Bilderbergers, and Tri-Lateral Commission.
Clinton understood that I had just been through "hell" in Lampe, and took it all in stride as he focused on his speech. He not only was well aware of the mind-control tortures and criminal covert activities proliferating in Arkansas and the neighboring state of Missouri, but he condoned them!
In 1983, Houston took me to Lampe for routine trauma and programming while he was scheduled to "entertain" at the amphitheatre. Also scheduled to perform were Bill Clinton's and George Bush's fiends Lee Greenwood and CIA operative, slave runner, and country music singer Tommy Overstreet. Greenwood and Overstreet were active in both the Lampe, Missouri and Lake/Mount Shasta, California CIA compounds. Clinton was flown in from Berryville, Arkansas by helicopter for the shows as well as for a business meeting.
Before Clinton arrived, Greenwood and Houston were in the backstage dressing rooms snorting line after line of cocaine, Houston, always eager to make an extra penny to pinch, attempted to prostitute me to Greenwood,
"She’s the real performer," Houston said. "She performs all kinds of sex acts upon command. For a small price, she’s yours."
Greenwood laughed, and referring to my Huntsville, Alabama NASA programming said, "I’ve spent more time in Huntsville than she has, and I know full well who and what she is ~ a ’space cadet’ programmed for sex. She’s a modified version of Marilyn Monroe." Tommy Overstreet had waited in and heard what Greenwood said. "How much time have you spent in Shasta?"
"Shasta?" Greenwood looked arrogantly at Overstreet and smiled knowingly as he said, "You don’t ’spend time’ in Shasta, you maintain the concept if you can. I haven’t lost any time there, either, if that’s your next question. I go there quite a bit. Enough really to override Houston’s suggestion with ease and take what I want, when I want, and how I want it."
Greenwood began expertly accessing my sex programming and told the others in the room, "You all can come and go as you please, but I’ve been made an offer that I am going to use." He ordered me to undress and bend over the desk where he roughly sodomized me as he said, "You’re going to think it’s daddy all over again".
Clinton smiled and said, "Of electricity". Overstreet laughed as he continued,
"Actually it means I check cabooses. How’s yours?" I squirmed. Apparently Greenwood had bragged about sodomizing me. They laughed even harder as Clinton said, "Still running, I’m sure".
Houston stepped out of the dressing room to greet Clinton, "Hi, bud."
Houston extended his hand. "I hear you made Governor."
"I hear you deliver a hell of a one liner," Clinton replied, cryptically referring to cocaine and NOT Houston’s so-called comedy routine. "I’m always aspiring to achieve new heights."
"Well, come on in," Houston invited. "I have enough (cocaine) to put us all into orbit." I walked into the dressing room with them as Houston was saying to Clinton, "I suppose there are no limits for you since you’re across the (state) line."
"What line?" Clinton feigned surprise and ignorance. He looked at Hal Meadows as he continued, "You mean I’ve left that state of mine? In the state of mind I’m in, there are no boundaries anyway." He walked over to the table and snorted a line of cocaine. "I come here to get away from it all. This kind of business is pleasure."
"So where’s that young wife of yours?" Houston asked, referring to Hillary.
"She’s with friends." Clinton sniffed the coke further up his nose. "She’s minding her own business. I’m just here to unwind, see the show, maybe do a little hunting (referring to A Most Dangerous Game). I’ve got a bird (helicopter) ready to fly me back when I’m through. Hey, speaking of ’Byrd’ (he gestured my way) I hear she’s moved up to the big house (White House)." Referring to his friend and mentor Senator Byrd he asked, "So what’s his position now?"
"The same." Houston answered. "Probably like this..." Houston pantomimed a lewd sodomy pose while everyone laughed. "He still runs the show."
Clinton kept his eyes fixed on Houston’s "caboose" and said, "Why don’t you show her (referring to me) me way out and show me that again?"
Immediately following the Swiss Villa incident, Houston was scheduled as usual to perform at the county fair in Benyville, Arkansas. There, Houston and I had been visiting with long time Clinton friend and supporter, H.B. Gibson, when we parted company to attend a private meeting at the mansion of Clinton’s bisexual friend and supporter Bill Hall. Hall had reportedly made his fortune in the pre-fabricated log home business, and the Clintons were slaying in a guest villa patterned after those at Swiss Villa.
Tommy Overstreet was attempting to convince Hall, who was obviously no stranger to the drug (cocaine) business, to join the high level CIA cocaine operation that was funding covert activity. They discussed the possibility of Hall transporting cocaine from Berryville, Arkansas to Nashville, Tennessee to be in on the ground level of what would soon be one of the largest and most prolific CIA cocaine operations ~ the Branson, Missouri, country music industry.
Hall was not convinced and began to raise questions as to the longevity of the operation and how he was going to protect himself. Although Hall was very adept at the cocaine business, he voiced concern that he found it easier to trust those who were not with the CIA operations than he did U.S. government protected participants.
Clinton added to what Houston "said, talking in local colloquialisms.
"Bottom line is, we’ve got control of the (drug) industry, and therefore we’ve got control of them (suppliers and buyers). You control the guy underneath ya’ and Uncle (Sam) has ya’ covered. What have ya’ got to lose? No risk. No one’s gonna hang ya’ out to dry. And whatever spills off the truck as it passes through (he laughed and snorted another line of coke) you get to clean up."
Clinton gestured to me and told Houston, "Get her out of here".
Houston didn’t move and laughed. "She’s a Presidential Model. She’s kept secrets bigger than yours."
Clinton responded, "I don’t care. Get her the fuck out of here"
"Hillary, I brought you something you’ll really enjoy. Kind of an unexpected surprise. Bill ordered her out of the meeting and I look her to my bedroom and made an interesting discovery. She is literally a two-faced (referring to my vaginal mutilation carving) bitch," "Hmm?"
Hall’s wife ordered me to take my clothes off while Hillary watched.
"Is she clean?" Hillary asked, meaning disease free.
"Of course, she’s Byrd’s," she responded, continuing the conversation as though I were not there, "Plus, I heard Houston say something about her being a Presidential Model, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean."
"It means she’s clean," Hillary said matter-of-factly as she stood up.
Hall’s wife patted the bed and instructed me to display the mutilation. Hillary exclaimed, "God!" and immediately began performing oral sex on me.
Apparently aroused by the carving in my vagina, 2 Hillary stood up and quickly peeled out of her matronly nylon panties and pantyhose. Uninhibited despite a long day in the hot sun, she gasped, "Eat me, oh, god, eat me now". I had no choice but to comply with her orders and Bill Hall’s wife made no move to join me in my distasteful task.
I put my clothes on as ordered, and Hall’s wife drove me back down to the mansion where Houston was waiting for me. The meeting apparently had been a success. I heard discussions throughout the remaining years between Houston, his agent Reggie MacLaughlin, and Loretta Lynn’s handler, Ken Riley pertaining to Hall’s successful branch of the CIA cocaine operation emanating from Arkansas, No discussions were as poignant and revealing as those between Alex Houston and CIA operative country music entertainer Boxcar Willie.
Boxcar Willie burst onto the country music scene after an ad campaign of high tech hypnotically persuasive produced television commercials that strategically made him an overnight, sensation and "star". The country music industry’s Freedom Train needed a conductor to lead the industry and fans to Branson, Missouri, and Boxcar Willie was placed in the driver’s seat. Like the Pied Piper of Hamlin, Boxcar Willie succeeded in his role of trance-ferring the industry in close proximity to the Lampe CIA cocaine operations.
Boxcar Willie was one of the primary ground level contacts that Bill Hall made after Clinton convinced him to cash in on the cocaine benefits of the country music industry transfer. Houston and Boxcar Willie discussed Hall’s lucrative dealings throughout the years in my presence while traveling the country together, billed on the same shows, including performances at the Swiss Villa Amphitheatre, I had much contact with Boxcar Willie personally since my government sponsored cocaine runs often coincided and intermeshed with his.
1 Loyalty to the sovereign of our country is non existent under New World Orders. "President" Clinton poses no more leadership or loyalty to our country than Ronald Reagan did since both follow(ed) New World Order directives from former U.N. Ambassador and CIA DI-RECTor George Bush.
2 Hillary Clinton is the only female to become sexually aroused at the sight of my mutilated vagina.
It was a sunny, fall day in 1983 when U.S. Congressman Guy VanderJagt met with my CIA operative mind-control handler, Alex Houston, my then 3 1/2 year old daughter, Kelly, and me on the steps of the U.S. Senate in Washington, D.C. Kelly appeared familiar with VanderJagt, although I had never previously remembered seeing her in his company. Even so, I could not think to realize he was, in fact, sexually abusing her just as he had me when I was a child.
I met up with Kelly again that afternoon at the White House, both of us literally "on our toes" and standing at attention in Reagan’s office. In retrospect, I wonder at the measures of control inflicted on my 3 1/2-year old child to cause her to perform so robotically and behave "so well" as she silently stood with the plastic smile and unblinking eyes, in the presence of President Reagan, Vice President Bush, and (later Defense Secretary) Dick Cheney.
"She is adorable, a model child", Reagan then gestured towards Bush and said; "This is my Vice President George Bush. People don’t usually know what the role of the Vice President is because he’s always behind the scenes making sure everything that the President wants done happens the way it’s supposed to."
"I catch the public’s attention (he made a gesture in the air that was eye catching) while the Vice President carries out orders."
Bush’s close friend, Dick Cheney, said, "And gives them".
"Right," Reagan said. "An order from him is like an order from me."
"Come here, Little One. I want to ask you something. Do you watch Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood?"
"Yes, Sir," Kelly responded.
"Well, I’m kind of like Mr. Rogers when he makes his puppets move and talk ~ like your daddy (Houston, ventriloquist) does with Elemer (his dummy). Only I’m like Mr. Rogers because I have lots of puppets ~ only mine are people. I even have a King (Fahd) just like Mr. Rogers.1 I pull the strings (he pantomimed marionette hand movements) and I talk through them. They say my words and we create all kinds of exciting Adventures. Right now I’m building a new Neighborhood (the New World Order). The stage is set, and I have hold of everyone’s strings. I need you to help me ~ together we can pull your mother’s strings. She’s in my Neighborhood. That means you’re in my Neighborhood, too."
Bush stood up and took her hand, "C’mon. Let me show you my Neighborhood," He led her out the door.
Kelly became violently physically ill after her induction into George Bush’s "Neighborhood" and from every sexual encounter she had with him thereafter. She ran 104-6 degree temperatures, vomited and endured immobilizing headaches for an average of three days (as is consistent with high voltage trauma). These were the only tell-tale evidences aside from the scarring burns left on her skin.
Kelly’s bleeding rectum was but one of many physical indicators of George Bush's pedophile perversions, I have overheard him speak blatantly of his sexual abuse of her on many occasions. He used this and threats to her life to "pull my strings" and control me. The psychological ramifications of being raped by a pedophile President are mind-shattering enough, but reportedly Bush further reinforced his traumas to Kelly’s mind with sophisticated NASA electronic and drug mind-control devices.
As soon as the door closed behind Bush and Kelly, Dick Cheney reached over to Reagan’s desk from his seat and flipped over the hourglass. (Oz) "Her (Kelly’s) time is running out. You’d better pay attention and follow orders as though her life depends on it, because from now on (heh heh) it always does! If you make one mistake ~ one ~ then I’ll get her, my pretty."
"George is like a director. He makes sure the stage is set to implement the New World Order as I envision it. Then he makes sure everyone has a script and knows their plan. He tells them how to speak and when to speak it. How to dress and (patting my head) how to wear their hair. He gets everything and everyone in place and hollers, ’Action!’"
"All the world’s a stage. I’m the Wizard. But he is directing the show so you better pay attention and learn your part well from him."
"George and I will be working closely on a few projects together, and when you see him, you’ll see me. When you’re given orders from him, you’re given orders from me."
"She knows the chain of command, Dick," Reagan injected, referring to his perception of who was in charge, and in what order.
Reagan jumped in again,
"With the world in order, there will be world peace. By strategically placing an American Patriot dedicated to the cause of spreading democracy in all parts of the world, we can influence the thinking of every nation’s leader and paint for them a picture of freedom and American values that they’ll never forget. They’ll spread it to the people and the whole planet will be of one mind ~ one purpose ~ one cause. Freedom. You’ll be talking with some of these friends and leaders from time to lime on my behalf."
"Taking orders from me and your new director-the Vice President. Lesson number one. You know what Miami Vice is. Undercover drug agents taking control of the drug industry. A Vice President is just that ~ an undercover drug agent taking control of the drug industry ~ for the President."
"Mexico is a problem. They’ve got lots of drugs, but not the brains nor l he means to sell it outside their own country. So how can we take control of their (growing) drug industry when we can’t even get our hands on it? It’s your duty as an American citizen to open the routes and initiate freedom from poverty throughout their nation by offering them cash as a means of enticing their drug industry right into our grasp by bringing it right up to our doorsteps."
"Operation Greenbacks for Wetbacks," Cheney said, laughing. Bush laughed with him.
Bush regained his composure to conclude, "Your assignment begins in Miami with NCL (Norwegian Caribbean Lines) and ends when you return from Mexico with word of success."
1 Mr Roger projects through puppets on his show, and one of his key characters from the Land of Make-Believe is King Friday the 13th.
My CIA mind-control handler, Alex Houston and I boarded the Norwegian Caribbean Lines ship bound for Cozumel, Mexico, with a large, black, soft side suitcase packed full of cash and a proposal of "prosperity" from the U.S. This proposal, programmed in me by Vice President Bush, was supposedly initial diplomatic groundwork for the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA).
It was my understanding then that the North American Free Trade Agreement was considered a significant step in implementing the New World Order through mind manipulation of the masses. According to Byrd, propaganda disguising the true purpose of NAFTA included the concept of "free trade" which the U.S. and Mexican governments had long since shared.
I certainly do not purport to understand international business, nor have I attempted to "educate" myself through what 1 know to be propaganda-slanted and -filtered periodicals. How money interfaces in world markets has been well documented. For example, who supports whom in which financial endeavors is apparently far too complex for even BCCI attorneys and investigators to sort through.
Senator Byrd claimed "the money game is simply a game of control," and lives by his adopted Golden Rule of "He who holds the gold makes the rules." He told me in so many words that,
"by appropriating funds to all (viable) projects ushering in the free trade agreement, and allocating lesser amounts to U.S. social systems such as our ’criminal’ justice system, I control our country and our place in world markets. All the world is a stage, and I own the theater!... you can bank on it!"
"I would never run for President ~ Oh, I’d win if I did," Byrd bragged. "But why should I run for an office that is beneath me? I can make a President look good, or I can make him look bad by strategically appropriating funds."
At the La Celiba Hotel in Cozumel, Houston maintained my food and water deprivation for mind-control purposes, even during our dinner meeting in the hotel’s restaurant later that evening. Although the restaurant was "officially" closed due to the late hour, a mariachi band, one waiter, four stationed armed guards, my Mexican dignitary contact, his two assistants, and handler, Houston and I were present.
The next afternoon, Houston escorted me to the high security fenced government installation for my meeting with Salinas. According to Bush, Salinas was regarded by the Reagan-Bush Administration as superior in power to Miguel de la Madrid who was officially President of Mexico at that time. The upcoming Mexican "election," which was no more an election than Reagan’s second term, was to place Salinas in the office of President to coincide with Bush’s destined Presidency.
Although President de la Madrid was considered by Bush to be the steppingstone to the ultimate reign of Salinas/Bush’s (already established) diplomatic relations, he was regarded with all due respect in a manner conducive to "no margins for error". His full cooperation was tantamount to establishing Bush’s and Salinas1 goals via free flowing drug markets and Mexico’s cooperation in subversively funding and supplying Reagan’s Nicaraguan Contras. De la Madrid worked in close association with Salinas so that a smooth transition of power would maintain U.S.-Mexican relations and efforts already in place.
"A message to Salinas is a message to the President," Cheney had explained. Not only would the message be relayed to de La Madrid, but for the most part Salinas was the one responsible for working with George Bush since they would both come into power during the most critical point in the promotion of NAFTA ~ passing it by the American people and into law. President Reagan, Mexican President De la Madrid, Vice President Bush, and Mexican Vice President Salinas were all "of one mind ~ one effort" toward economic expansion and growth for our southern "neighbors in the New World Order" through what I experienced was based on "free trade" of drugs, children, and pornography.
"only means of rapid economic advancement and freedom from poverty since the people were slaves to their own inability to advance in world markets."
"I have a message from the Vice President of the United State of America to our neighbors in Mexico. America is willing to share its wealth through a trade agreement with Mexico. We’ll trade our cash for control over Mexico’s cocaine and heroin production. By controlling your drug industry, we can open the border between our countries to allow a free flow of cocaine and heroin into the U.S., bought and paid for in American dollars to build Mexico, Eventually this could dissolve the border between our countries altogether as Mexico’s economy grows to match ours.
If we begin today, this dream could be realized by the turn of the century-sharing the same continent, sharing the same wealth. Why? The drug industry already dictates what the Mexican government can or cannot do. By giving the U.S. control of your drug industry, Mexico regains control over her government. Re-established power backed by U.S. dollars will bring Mexico on an economic par with America. We can begin by spreading the word through the (drug) cartels that the U.S. is covertly willing to open the borders to free drug trade by making agents available to show you the passage and routes through which the drugs are to be delivered.
Only U.S. agents can bring Mexican heroin and (South American) cocaine across the border, and likewise they will bring the cash in. Explain to those select few who control the drug empires that the cruise line (NCL) agreement is going into mass expansion, tearing down the border between our countries enough to allow for as many drugs to come in as Mexico can deal out. When do we begin? Immediately. The cash is at hand. (I gestured toward the suitcase which Salinas unzipped to find full of cash.)
Deliver whatever amount of brown heroin you have at hand as a means of confirmation to the agreement. Keep the change as a token of the change and good fortune that has befallen Mexico from its neighboring nation."
I waited in a small clearing nearby for an indeterminate length of time, playing with a large iguana. Finally, a taxi cab driver pulled up and honked his horn three times, signaling me to pick up a fist-sized ball of Mexican brown heroin. The heroin was crudely wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine, and measured approximately the size of a baseball. As quickly as the cab driver left, Houston, who was standing some distance away with two uniformed men, signaled me to join him. We were then driven to the airport where we boarded a U.S. Air Force aircraft to Washington, D.C.
Immediately upon arrival at Andrews Air Force Base just outside of Washington, D.C, I was taken to Senator Byrd who then escorted me to Dick Cheney’s Pentagon office for a meeting with Vice President Bush. I was ill and vomiting from the high voltage administered in Mexico to compartmentalize my memory. I was allowed to use Byrd’s magnetic pass key card to unlock the maze of doors that led to the Ladies’ Room.
Bush replied, "Over my dead body" as he laughed at Cheney’s Contra joke. "If you don’t share some of it, that could be the case," Cheney said. "Pitch it here."
Bush struck a pitch pose, wound up, made a fake out pitch, and joked in baseball banter, "It’s a ’high fly’ ball. You’re going to have to steal." He tossed the heroin in the air, caught it, and strode for the door, Cheney got out of his chair, pointed to the door, and ordered me "Out".
Houston and I were flown in to Montego Bay, Jamaica and transported to Ocho Rios to board our next NCL cruise ship.
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