Trance Formation of America (34 page)

Business complete, Mulroney triggered my sex programming and led me upstairs to the bedrooms where Kelly was robotically waiting, entranced under Orders of the Rose,

U.S. and Mexican relations were flourishing in the successes of NAFTA's groundwork, while polictical differences pertaining to Nicaragua remained a minor point of contention. Since the Catholic Vatican's Intelligence arm of Jesuits were working closely wilh U.S. Intelligence to usher in the New World Order, they used their established influence in Mexico and Nicaragua to provide a common ground for "diplomatic relations". My dual mind-control victi-mazation by the ClA and the Jesuits since childhood, and my previous "diplomatic relations" in Mexico thrust me into the role of messenger and prostitute to Nicaragua's Daniel Oriega.

Were President Reagan's Nicaraguan Freedom Fighters fighters OF freedom or FOR freedom? My mind-controlled existence rendered me incapable of pondering such questions. Nevertheless, I had a programmed "passion burning in my bosom" for the Contras as was patriotically instilled through torture, when I embarked on my "peacekeeping mission" to Nicaragua for Reagan tale in the summer of 1985,

I boarded NCL as usual to reach my appointed destination. Since Nicaragua was not a port of call for NCL, I flew from the Yukatan of Mexico to a remote military airstrip in Managua. It was in this small mountain top clearing that I met with Commandant Daniel Ortega, as had been arranged through the Vatican.

I was dressed seasonably in shorts, with my long blond hair lucked hack in a French braid. Onega's attire, too, was reflective of the casual air to meeting. His tan, military uniform had worn thin, and was free of any protocol insignias. The dark, rose-colored sunglasses he peered through apparently had not changes his somber view of the "noble cause" he claimed to represent. A man of few words, he greeted me with an order, "Come with me." I rode wilh him in silence as he drove a jeep the short distance across the airstrip to a small, near, two story, white, frame house.

As we came to a stop in front of the house, Ortega said In a sad, slow voice. "I have needs like any man. But I feel like a whore myself for accepting your President's offer."

His bedroom was clean and functional, with numerous assault weapons scattered around, I did not see any modern conveniences or personal effects, but Ortega seemed to be at home in his surroundings.

Ortega's demeanor was that of a man who bad abstained from sex longer than most in bis politcal position. As he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, I noticed a Catholic medallion with the secret Jesuit ascension/descesion symbol on it, a common accessory among Jesuit spooks. He sat in wicker chair as I followed his silent lead in gratifying him orally.

While he chain smoked cigarettes, I sat in front of him on the floor, and relayed Reagan's message to him as programmed. I began. "President Reagan has sent me as a messenger of peace."

He casually interrupted. slowly looking me up and down. "I'd like to have a piece in a few more minutes."

I continued, "Your people have endured many hardships Throughout their existence. He (Reagan) only wants to help. The American people want to see peace and freedom in your land. Mexican and U.S. relations are growing stronger by the day, and it is imperative that we resolve your conflict in order to resolve our own with the Mexican government We have come to the agreement with Mexico that the Nicaraguan conflict must be resolved for the sake of your people as well as our own, I am here on a peacekeeping mission representative of Vatican-based common ground shared by both Mexican and American governments, to enlighten you to our peaceful intentions. The unified effort of Mexican-American Catholic missions is to promote peace in your region, while only enhancing your culture. The world is rapidly turning toward world peace, and Nicaragua is way behind the times — from technology and education to government ideals and religious convictions. Pope John Paul is praying diligently for peace in your region, and has joined forces with President Reagan, Mexico, and even the Soviet Union to ensure that peace. He (the Pope) knows your goals, he knows your motives (I leaned forward, almost whispering from my own instilled belief), he knows your soul. We can all work in tandem to achieve that peace. Nicaragua, small though it may be in relation to the rest of the world, is a significant stepping stone toward unifying world powers. It can no longer be a source of contention and disagreement. Your people must be free. Free to worship God through your holy Catholic church. That is first and foremost on President Reagan's agenda, as well as the Pope's and President de la Madrid's. A New World Order is coming into being with or without you; it is an inevitable process that cannot be stopped. A whole new world of peace awaits us all. I can see you are a peace-loving man. It emanates from your being. Blood has flowed across your land so heavily that your people are drowning in it. Together we can cauterize that wound. Replace blood flow with cash flow. Americanization can upgrade your technology at a rapid rate. Your people could compete in world markets by the turn of the century. Your future global position has already been determined by geography alone. Flow with it. Lead your people out of poverty. Educate them in a manner conducive to their destined position in world markets. Free them from their struggles that have held them captive for so long. Allow the church bells to ring with good news of peace, prosperity and freedom. You can achieve all of your goals for your country's advancement with our help."

Ortega thoughtfully finished smoking a cigarette, and lit up another as he confidently replied, "Tell your President that I have seen his freedom, and listened to" his words projected through yet another example of it. He paints a beautiful picture suspended within his framework. A picture can appear serene to its beholder while it is being gazed upon. I cannot worship a graven image, and the picture he paints is just that. We have fought too hard and too long, spilling sweat and blood across this land in our determined effort to maintain human values instilled in us by our forefathers, who gained their profound wisdom from the original Catholic missionaries. These values are the same as those portrayed in President Reagan's painted picture-only ours are real. His have only surface value, like any other painting. If I were to concede, I would only be framed within me picture he paints, hung on his wall like a trophy. I will not mislead my people, in spite of his offers of wealth and position, I am true to my convictions, and when he is true to his, then we will meet on common ground and have something of substance to discuss. For now, words are only a waste of our time."

Ortega put out his cigarette, and pulled back the covers on his bed. "I'll lake you somewhere pleasant." He took a well-used opium pipe/bong off his dresser and handed me a nozzle, I had been trained to accept any drug given to me with the only exception being the strictly forbidden marijuana. I hesitated until Ortega assured me it was opium. As the drug took affect he said, "This could be the way to world peace." Sex with Ortega was at very least free of pain and perversion. Unlike most I was forced to have "diplomatic relations" with for the Reagan Administration, he fell asleep when he was through due to the difference between opium and cocaine.

The honk of a jeep's horn outside awoke him. As I prepared to leave, he said, «Wait». He took a small, 1/4 inch or so ball of black opium from his personal stash, wrapped it in the cellophane from his cigarette package wrapper, and said, "Give this to your President and tell him that you and I found more peace with this substance than he'll ever impart on the surface of his painted globe," As he closed the door quietly behind me he said, "Come back and see me when you have more to offer.»

I was immediately returned by plane to Washington, D.C. where my «mission» had originated. This time I was taken directly to Bush's office, where I delivered Ortega's message verbatim. Eliminating most of the dialogue, Bush instructed me to deliver a partial message to Reagan. Unable to perceive message content and people beyond my "Need to Know" mind-controlled limited view, I had no concept that Ortega's message would have a negative impact. It never occurred to me that Ortega had proven himself to be as much a hypocrite as he purported Reagan to be by using me as a prostitute and messenger of bad news knowing full well that I had no free will with which to make the message more palatable. Bush's revision of Ortega's message added fuei to a proverbial fire that I didn't even know was burning when I delivered the message to Reagan.

Bush was with Reagan and me in Reagan's secondary office (to the Oval office) of the White House as I relayed the message as instructed, "Daniel Ortega is a peace loving man, who seeks the same resolutions that we do. But he told me to tell you-(I dug in my purse for the opium) that he and I found more peace in this substance-(I handed the opium to Reagan) than you'll ever impart on the surface of your painted globe."

Bush smiled as Reagan's face instantly turned beet red with rage. Bush then reacted and spun up out of his chair, look the opium for himself, and told Reagan, "Settle down. There's more. It seems the only peace she spread was between her legs." He headed for the door, saying, "I would reconsider my position if I were in your shoes — considering what's filling hers." Bush dropped his gaze down the back of my legs to my shoes as he continued, "It's running down both sides of her legs."

Obviously I wouldn't be subjected to sex with Reagan that day. I was quickly excused and flown back to Mexico, where I resumed my NCL cruise. With my memory of the event compartmentalized through high voltage, I believed at the time that I had never been gone at all.

In the fall of 1985, the same part of me that met with Ortega was walking with (Reagan appointed) CIA Director William «Bill» Casey through the arboured rose garden of his Long Island estate. Casey began by manipulating my Jesuit/Vatican programming base personality with the expertise indicative of the current union between Catholic and CIA operations. Casey, whom Reagan referred to as a "man of Vision," was forming my Jesuit mind-control programmed «understanding». "I have a World Vision
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, one of peace. By removing the more violent factions of societies world wide and replacing them with faithful leaders of one world government, and the one world church, global unification is eminent. It is a beautiful vision, and it came to me in my dreams. God has moved me to move men. I've moved them here and I've moved them there — now it's time to remove them. My World Vision encompasses the globe and puts to rest any and all tensions, strife, overpopulation, and starvation. My vision is a World Vision, and the churches see it my way as evidenced by their support of the cause."
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Referring to my mind-controlled involvement in Haitian operations via NCL, Casey further defined 'the cause, "Your heartfelt mission in Haiti has helped in my World Vision quest for her people to abandon hedonistic voodoo and turn their eyes to God and Godly ways. By their own design, they have created an atmosphere of evil whereby a plague will be visited on their land. The Lord has so moved me to move men who share our goals into place, and re-move those who stand in the way of peace. It is for this reason that your mission in Haiti must be brought to a close. Baby Doc, in his tireless devotion to saving the demonically possessed cannot bear the burden of watching his people die the wretched death unleashed upon those doomed for hell. We are left with no alternative but to heed the word of God and spare him from annihilation. For this reason, we will send in the missionaries (Jesuit Mercenaries) to inoculate the population with a vaccine that will spare only the good of heart by virtue of its design. All attempts to maintain Haiti within the loop of financial gain will cease. Tourism must be stopped for the sake of the innocents visiting a plagued land. Despite our differences, Baby Doc has complied with the Vatican's orders to the test of his abilities in his demon-infesled land, and must resign his post. We owe it to him to transport him to safety. It is our duty as Americans and followers of God to obey the commands of our Lord and Master and enforce the World Vision. It is your duty as an American and follower of God to instill the understanding that God has spoken, and a plague is imminent. Baby Doc is being prepared for transition and awaits word of direction. You will provide him with that word."

With my perceptions distorted and Catholic Jesuit programmed «understanding» instilled, I was prepared to "religiously accept" any and all I was told. I believed that the revolution in Haiti was a holy war, never capable of realizing it was a test run battle for the minds in this 4th world country.

The devotion I felt toward the Haitian people was more than a religious understanding of these alternately Catholic-Santeria
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voodoo worshippers. I was actually subconsciously recognizing other tortured mind-controlled slaves in this human created hell called Haiti. Consciously, I now know it was due in part to the visible stun gun/prod marks, plastic ever-present smiles that never quite reach their dead appearing eyes. The children clung to their wide-eyed mothers, as they performed their tasks in robotic servitude. I had recognized these characteristics in other slaves throughout the years, but never had I seen a whole country entranced. My compassion for the Haitian people penetrated into the realm of the spiritual, into a part of me that mind control and manipulation of religion could never touch,

Casey and I had been walking through the garden, guarded by more armed men than the President, It wasn't that I was a threat, I couldn't even think to save myself. It was that Casey and his World Vision were a threat to humanity that so many guards were needed. The men appeared to be U.S. Secret Service officers according to their attire, weapons, and earphone headsets. One guard conspicuously placed his hand to his headset, listening as though it were remote control. He walked briskly over to Casey, who signaled me to leave with an escort who instantly arrived at my side awaiting instruction.