Juicing at the Devil's Punchbowl, Part 1
Count 'I Ain't' Saint Germaine and The Rattlesnake
From Don Croft firstname.lastname@example.org >
August 6, 2004
This account is mainly about DB’s and Ryan McGinty’s initiation by fire last Sunday in the Devil’s Punchbowl, east of Los Angeles but I’ve found that catchy titles get your attention and, now, Constantin Ochescu could really use your blasting virtuosity as he languishes on a bench in the waiting room of the Los Vegas city slammer for being our real friend.
They can't seem to manage to get him into a cell these days becuase he knows the law better than the reptile cops who snagged him yesterday but they and their covert overseers (apparently the draconians under the city who are sore about our plan to disable all of their activity this weekend) are going to do their best to get the better of him, anyway, and we need to use their own energy to defeat them, yet again. Lilly Ochescu is a black belt karate woman from Romania who’s learning, from Carol, some American Cowgirl tactics, as you’ll see.
Apparently, a lot of these feds are now perceiving me as Vlad the Impaler for some reason, though I haven't raised my hand in anger to another soul since I was eleven. Go figure.
Next time you ask the Crofts to come visit, bear in mind that in our wake usually folllows an entourage of surveillance, sabotage and voodoo wankers who would like to stop you from exercising your right to pick your companions, okay? I reckon this will further bollox any diatribes directed at painting me as a cult leader and it will lessen the number of invites, too ;-)
We did, indeed, treat the Very Old Rascal to a couple of earthpipes in Pluto Cave near Mt Shasta and I was actually bitten by a rattlesnake near Devil’s Punchbowl when I was hunting for Ryan last Sunday, though.
These earthpipes are apparently the most powerful orgonite devices in our arsenal but they only really do much good for underground work. When you deploy them, you might or might not get confirmations in the atmosphere, please note.
When Carol and Linda were at the Oregon Coast a month ago they sort of stumbled onto a plot to generate a massive earthquake in that region, so Carol, Ryan and I went back there last week with 17 earthpipes, which we placed at intervals of 11 miles down the coast from Seaside to Florence, Oregon, just to ensure that whatever HAARPish beaming they were doing to destabilize that stretch and move us into martial law would come to naught.
As usual, we got some atmospheric confirmations. The coast was socked in with heavy fog all day, in spite of clear skies and the usual westerlies, which is an indicator of HAARP interference. As we moved south the wind followed us from the north and cleared away the DOR, thus the fog. Whenever we stopped to eat or do touristy stuff the wind caught up with us and the influx of healthy orgone felt marvelous.
We stayed longest at Siletz Bay, where we ate at Moe’s (incomparable seafood) and greeted the seals. Two haggish CIA psychics leered at us all as we stepped on the beach (tough old gals) and we had a little staring contest until they turned away and lit some cigarettes, which for psychics means that they needed to shut out some energy ;-) which we were sending to them.
The other indicator of DOR was that the vultures had returned to the coast. There’s apparently a cloudbuster in Florence because as we approached we could see that characteristic blue hole in the DOR muck. Otherwise there was no sign that anyone had been busting towers. Most folks who have CBs and disable death transmitters these days don’t contact us, which is wonderful, as it demonstrates that this is a grassroots, empowering effort rather than a personality cult.
If I were actually a leader of this effort, I’d have to constantly say, ‘There they all go, and I must run along after them because I AM THEIR LEADER!’ I thank God, daily, that I don’t even know most of the folks who do this work and that a lot of the folks who are more vocal about doing it genuinely don’t even like me. Under the circumstances, whenever any of our enemies say that this is personality cult they’re simply making fools of themselves to anyone with a scrap of discernment who bothers to read their rants. Even our enemies know that Carol and I are not profiting from this effort. All we’ve gathered in from our efforts is $20,000 in alleged credit card debt over the last three years ;-)
I’ve gathered payback, though, which to me is a whole lot nicer than money. I guess you’ll have to ask Carol what she’s gotten from all this, aside from having a man who loves her more than life itself.
We all defeated the chemtrail program, most of HAARP, and prevented martial law from being successfully enforced (by disabling sufficient numbers of death towers) and that’s no small feat, I’m sure you know.
Look at the newspapers: the feds tell us that terrorist attack is imminent and even the headlines make fun of them now. When you consider that the Illuminists own all of the PJ folks’ favored media outlets, this is quite a testimonial of how well humanity is doing along the path of awakening.
I think just about everyone knows, by now, that our gifting recommendations are simply basic directions for getting guaranteed, observable results and confirmations with a minimum of time, effort and materials. We encourage anyone with talent and insight to improve on these devices and many folks do that. I still make all of my field pieces funky and basic, as a point of pride ;-)
So, the three of us spent our first few nights in the pop-up camper trailer that Carol had bought in June. Ryan’s 6’ 5” but was able to fit without too much trauma in the other bed and it was like a lottery to find campgrounds with showers on the hot summer days on our way south. The Oregon coast is the most beautiful coastal area that I’ve ever visited.
We had just met with our Aztec warrior brother, Luis Santacruz, in Portland, Oregon, which is always a treat. Together, we scragged a particularly tough, satanic Bruja in Mexico who had been trying to get the best of our bro for many years. We laugh at these insipid American women who dabble in the black arts and consider themselves powerful because we’ve been to places where real magic is performed by old-school shamans. The bad ones have to be reckoned with in ‘The Third World,’ as Carol and I, Jesse, and one or two others in this informal network have learned firsthand in our travels, unlike the hordes of CIA/NSA trained new age nazi schizoids here whom we routinely knock down like tenpins. More folks are gifting in the Latin countries these days, so we connect the ones who contact me with Luis and Alicia Navor, who lives in San Diego and whose name will come up later in this article. Since Luis joined this effort, last year, we’ve been doing a lot with obsidian, which the ancient knowers in Central America considered more precious than gold.
We hadn’t told anyone we were going to Pluto Cave because it’s quite dangerous there, due to the I AM (not!) Fellowship’s use of that place for their satanic murder rituals. In case you don’t know, the ‘I Am’ part of the phrase comes from the Bible and is a reference to The Creator—you know: ‘Before all things were created, I am.’ Want some fun? Next time some neurotic newage nazi tells you that he/she is God, put him/her to the test ;-)
The Monarch Programs’ graduates all shun accountability and it’s kind of fun to watch them squirm when you make them accountable.
Theresa and David Carlson met us in the parking lot of the little state park and told us that they’d just distributed some gifts there. That was pretty remarkable! Carol and I were very sad to find that the stench of the part of the cave where they bury their victims’ remains was even worse than before because that indicated that the satanic new age Nazis had been murdering more children in order to boost their mascot/sponsor, the ET they call St. Germaine (‘ain’t no saint’). In fact, we had become a little alarmed to hear that someone had started channeling this scoundrel again recently, hence our visit to the cave. The faithful, vacuous nazis had been cut off from him for about a year after our Mt Shasta Area Offensive in May, 2003. Carol and I had gifted a dozen or so key Illuminati energy-theft vortices, hyperdimensional portals and ritual killing sites known to DB but not obviously connected with the mountain.
We moved a lot deeper into the cave until we got to a point where Carol and Ryan saw a Watcher, which is one of the very old ET entities assigned to report intrusions, etc, to killing sites. Those two attacked the entity, who appeared to both of them to slink on all fours up out of the deeper reaches and was around 20 feet tall when he stood up—maybe he’s actually just a little jerk, doing a Wizard of Oz act, though. They drove him back into the cave so that I could plant the earthpipes, one of which was made with a little moonblood and energized water in some water-based resin. Laozu Kelly had generously given Carol a gallon of the stuff and Carol Two Eagle had been expounding, to me, the power of moonblood in magic, so of course I asked Carol to oblige me when I then decided to make some gifts with the stuff. Last week I found out that a woman in Argentina had been making holy handgrenades with some of hers, and, of course, Zoe in Salt Lake City had done this a couple years ago.
You might be sad to know that there are some powerful things that guys will never be able to do.
Ryan coined the ‘I Ain’t’ appellation after we did the cave, by the way.
I usually pound the earthpipes into the ground, fast, with a six pound sledge hammer but since there were a lot of big stones on the floor of the cave I asked Ryan, who’s getting to be a terrific psychic, to point to the right spots so that I would get them all the way into the ground on the first try, which I did.
They saw a bunch of little specks of bright light flying at us after that from deeper in the cave and those were apparently implants, aimed at our heart meridians. We disabled them all in LA with DB’s Tesla coil. More on that later.
Carol was unable to go into the burial part of the cave on the way out, because approaching it made her intensely nauseous. She said that some murderers were on their way, sent by St. I Ain’t, so we had to leave immediately.
As we were walking toward the parking lot a couple of tunnel-visioned MKids passed us on the trail, walking fast and heading for the cave. Carol later told me they were reptiles. I wished I’d brought a pistol but we figured that if I just kept my mouth shut about going to Shasta we’d be left alone this time.
The Great White Brotherhood’s minions rarely, if ever, physically attack you from the front, of course, unless they can cause you to be afraid (weak) first. I didn’t turn my back on many strangers while I was in California this time.
As we approached Shasta from the north, Carol could see that a lot of new, very dark activity was taking place under the mountain in the direction of the cave. What we did was directed at the Old Villain, of course, but someone needs to get busy with earthpipes on the north side of the mountain and finish off whatever CIA/reptilian mischief is connected to that jerk.
I AM happy to report, though, that the organization’s ‘reading room’ and warehouse suffered a catastrophic fire last month, during the busiest, most lucrative part of their year ;-)
Theresa told us that she and David had particularly gifted that building last summer, along with the amphitheater where they put on their fake-Jesus plays and other pageantry in the summer.
Ryan found a nifty, big piece of obsidian, marked with a queer symbol, in the corner of the lot and I’m going to use it for something special. They had put it there for protection, of course.
We had thoroughly gifted the City of Mt Shasta in May of last year and we’re told that the faithful have been quite dispirited since then. It’s important to note that, like in any other cult, these benighted people believe that Saint I Ain’t is practically God incarnate and you won’t get them to question their beliefs. Some of them upbraid me now and then for speaking ill of their master and I never try to persuade them that they’re seeing a false front. Somebody who knows some stuff firsthand told me that this old fart was the ‘apostle’ Paul, Roger Bacon and several other historical figures who had led a lot of humanity out into the figurative desert over the past millennia. I have no reason to doubt that and it’s pretty intriguing, don’t you think? The meek have finally inherited the earth, after all.
It’s always a little dicey to gift the ground that cult followers consider sacred because these benighted people consider you evil, therefore easily expendable, but that was nothing compared to what we encountered two days later.
Somebody emailed me to say that she had made several hundred towerbusters with the intention of gridding downtown San Francisco, so of course we went there to see if we could help, since the person said that she was homeless. We agreed on meeting at a certain time but the person was not to be found. Rather, the neighborhood where the meeting was to take place was so filled with MKids and Carol felt a little alarmed and smelled a setup, so we left after a couple of hours.
It became fairly apparent that the bad guys didn’t want us to get to LA, where DB, whose site, cbswork.com, had been fatally sabotaged by the domain’s owner, six weeks before. DB had essentially been deprived of a livelihood since that happened, nor was he even able to access his own site or even to receive PayPal payments. That was conscious betrayal and sabotage, and I want you to know that betrayal must never be confused with ‘personality conflict’ or ‘misunderstanding.’ DB had bent over backward helping this fellow get out from under his MK Ultra past and present, during the time that Carol and I were helping another fellow do the same. I’m not mentioning names because these subterfuge efforts are designed to make betrayal look like a something else, but we were all, in fact, scammed by their handlers, at least, and we won’t be rescuing any more active MKids from now on, pleased note.
Fortunately for Carol and I, www.worldwithoutparasites.com , is under our control, so I did the only reasonable thing and avoided making contracts with anyone in the past three years that this informal network has grown and thrived. Ken Adachi has been generous and supportive for the duration by sharing my writings on his site, www.educate-yourself.org , and we very much enjoy our visits with him and his lovely wife, Ayoko, when circumstances allow.
Thanks to the very kind and timely help of another partner, Steeve Richard, of www.quebecorgone.com , who facilitates the French-speaking contingent of this grassroots effort, DB now has a brand new site, under his own control. Keep watching it for some exciting, inspiring and sometimes scary blogs from ‘Cbswork,’ okay? It’s www.ethericfire.com
By the way, the ID is meant to convey that ‘CBs Work!,’ not ‘CBS Work,’ just as Succor Punch is pronounced, ‘Sucker Punch,’ not ‘Sooker Punch.’ Succor, which means, ‘to nourish,’ really is pronounced, ‘sucker.’ I could have named my invention, ‘Suckle Punch,’ but I wanted something with impact. ‘Suckle Punch’ is kind of confusing, like what an infant might feel in a topless bar. I want you to get the full flavor, so to speak, of our acronyms.
We all get scammed, now and then, because, let’s face it: nice people are and will always be targets. Carol, who had been recently accused of being a variety of roguish secret personae, including ‘satanic witch,’ and ‘Don’s CIA handler,’ even got caught in a few less-than-charitable people’s crosshairs lately and she’s a little less patient with betrayal than I am. I kind of feel sorry for the fellow who recently scammed/betrayed her because she’s a good part Injun and, as Carol Two Eagle says, ‘Indian women in battle take no prisoners except to torture them.’
When I tell you what happened when Carol was accosted by the cops at the Devil’s Punchbowl and, yesterday, here in Las Vegas, you’re going to get a new appreciation of this quiet, otherwise mild woman whom you may have thought you know. Lilly Ochescu’s not too shabby, either ;-)
DB, Carol and I had wrongly assumed that we could help a couple of well-meaning, very talented and resourceful, 30ish MKids, even though I’m always fast to tell folks that ‘We don’t rescue,’ and our good intentions simply bit us on the butts, that’s all. Live and learn, eh?
There will be a new board set up shortly, named www.ethericwarriors.com , which will feature the postings of 26 people who are tested warriors/gifters. These are the ones who have carried 99% of the work on the boards in the past three years, after all, and have exhibited constancy in the face of enemy fire, subterfuge and betrayals. Some of them aren’t very charismatic but they’re all real friends to Carol and I. ‘Good friends help you move; real friends help you move bodies.’
The reason we’ll do it this way is because, frankly, we’re just not smart enough to catch all the insincere, sometimes very patient and resourceful people who are thrown at us by the CIA and MI6 to steal our time, energy and resources & to lay intricate traps for us. Our intention, as with our three, previous, good-faith efforts, is to provide an exemplary format—a living witness, if you will—that anyone can use for inspiration, education and confirmation. I think we’ll get it right this time.
Before this, by the way, we didn’t really know who would stand on the front line with us but all that traveling we’ve done has paid off in terms of getting to know folks and allowing them to get to know us, so this is timely.
Our hope is that many, many others will adopt this approach, which is essentially the cell method that worked so well for the French Resistance during the nazi occupation period and is now working for the Constitutional Unorganized Militias in the US now. They, too, learned from their mistakes, having previously been subverted in the ninetees and ennervated by thousands and thousands of FBI and CIA agents.
All wars are won and lost this way, of course, not by bullets and bombs.
Steeve Richard is setting that new board up for us right now and will turn it over to me when he’s done. I want to feature the Women Warrior chat function because that showed a lot of potential before. As Carol Two Eagle told me the other day, women in general are getting fed up with paternalistic hegemony now, so I’d be an idiot not to exploit this unique opportunity to chop the feet out from under the old-fart occult world order, don’t you agree?
Larry Rockefeller’s instant demise may be a good portent for us all.
I’ve always been a little ambivalent about reptilians, expecially since our early experiences with them included some close interactions with some apparently friendly, helpful ones from under Florida/Bahamas/Cuba/Yucatan. I still honestly see good in all of God’s creatures, or at least the potential for virtue, even in the most degraded of the predatory sentient beings whom I’ve interacted with, face to face.
What I witnessed last Sunday,though, has inspired me to buy a whole lot of 9mm and .45 caliber ammunition as soon as we get home. As it gets harder and harder for the hostile reptiles in human form to maintain those forms, it would be wise to have a firearm on hand because I believe they do intend to kill us all if given the opportunity. I’m going to fight back, if so, and without qualms.
I still firmly believe that the assumption that reptiles ever created or enslaved humanity is dead wrong, but I now appreciate that most of them desperately want to kill us all, perhaps very soon, and have always tried to control us, though.
I don’t use the terms, ‘Annunaki,’ or ‘Nibirr,’ much, because I don’t have any direct corroboration for any of the claims made about them. I also believe that you and I were put here to defeat the occult world order, including the Illuminati, Vril, Great White Brotherhood, the various satanic orders on all continents, the cadres of non-human predators, etc., which have always been the front for error and spiritual rebellion on our planet. I don’t even like to use the word, ‘evil,’ very much because I just don’t believe in devils, no matter how hard others try to persuade me to believe that way.
Do read others’ cosmologies, if you feel like it, and make your own conclusions. I stay away from cosmologies because I think just about everything, even a rapid pole shift, is up for grabs right now and that we’re simply not capable of understanding what’s coming, so why speculate? All that concerns me is winning this war in each moment and it sure feels like we’re winning now, with overwhelming help, protection and guidance from The Operators. If you’re able to see elementals, please note how happy they are when any of us show up, okay? I think that by now all of us, who have the proper humility, have seen the Sylph’s cloud sculptures and felt their love for us. They’re all happy because we’ve been fixing the planet’s orgone matrix with our
cloudbusters and, especially, with the gifting.
I did a couple of firewalks a few years ago and the tribulations we’ve all entered lately feel kind of like walking on fire to me. If you ever have an opportunity to experience this, I heartily recommend it. One of the Persian poets once wrote, ‘A knower is he who is dry in the sea; a lover is he who is sure in hellfire,’ and the simple truth is that when we relate to life from our hearts we’re given everything we need to be happy, productive, safe and knowledgable. There is no suffering as bad as uncertainty, by the way, and victory can be summed up in one word: confidence. Orgonite gives that to us and takes it away from the bad guys. I realized lately that we’re already through the worst of the calamities. The worst part was when nearly everyone was asleep and we few who were waking up felt hopeless, helpless and isolated in the face of the occult world order’s genocidal plans.
Here’s the deal, as I see it: many people realize that we’re winning now and more sleepy PJ folk are waking up each day. In the face of this awakening process, and in light of the fact that we’re winning all of our battles, why worry? Even if we get scragged by a huge comet, inundated by towering tsunamis and/or get overcome by hordes of hungry, heartless lizards (keep proper ammo on hand, just in case! ;-) at least we’ll go out gloriously and the struggle IS the object of the game of life, after all, just as the journey is more important than the destination. When we’re all sitting around a hundred years from now, not having to toil any more, pay for energy or to even consider poverty, sickness, hunger, strife or predatory reptiles, we old veterans will gather here and there around the globe, roar with laughter inspired by old gallows humor, and swap terrific war stories about the good old days (now). I already feel sorry for our progeny, in fact.
Sunday’s events proved to all four of us that we can’t be defeated, at least, and I want you to experience the same assurance and confidence without necessarily getting shot at by a sniper, bitten by a deadly-poisonous snake, manipulated hyperdimensionally, beamed by a variety of Vril and reptilian ships, surrounded—Rodney King style--with vicious LA cops and black-shirted Homeland Security Abominations, or otherwise severely tested ;-)
Sunday’s trouble for us may reasonably said to have started two weeks before, when DB had gone to the Devil’s Punchbowl to gift the vicinity of the altar there. By the time he arrived, the sun was going down and a crowd of people had arrived at the parking lot of the county park facility, whose employees leave and lock the parking lot’s gate at sunset. A Los Angeles County Sherriff Deputy stopped DB at the gate and said, ‘I’m sorry, Mr B******, but you have to turn around and leave,’ so D drove away to the nearest dirt road, turned north, skirted the spectacular geological feature, parked his car and walked to a stone ledge overlooking the altar, which was about a half mile from the gate.
He had arrived at the boulder overlook in darkness and in time to witness Lawrence Rockefeller gutting a terrified young girl in the middle of a circle of black-robed, torch-bearing celebrants, who had brought along a dozen or so other children to be killed during the ritual. DB was so infuriated that he vented his anger directly at the old murderous Illuminist, whose heart stopped. When the rat suddenly keeled over, dead, the others looked angrily around and he could hear them yelling, ‘Who did that!?’
The next morning, of course, the news of the old parasite’s death was announced in the news. DB told me that he had seen Rocky assume his genuine draconian form right before he slaughtered that little girl and his description was pretty graphic. maybe you can get it directly from one of his blogs but for our purpose, I’ll refer to all of the predators in human form as humans, while not doubting at all that what DB is relating is accurate. If you, too, will steer clear of belief, denial and judgement, you’re guaranteed to be as happy as I am.
I could repeat some of his observations about how the children are ‘prepared’ by the CIA for their own painful, violent deaths in some of the remote desert shacks on ‘gummint’ land which he pointed out along the way but you can read other accounts to get that. It’s pretty grisly and depressing. Next door to DB lives a ‘retired’ CIA pediatrician, by the way. I think you know that the CIA only uses pediatricians to harm children.
Carol and I had never seen so much surveillance as we did Sunday on our way to the desert park facility from Los Angeles. In fact, that’s about all we saw and it was practically a traffic jam.
As we were doing our shopping in preparation for the trip, it was fun to watch DB, who was driving, roll down his window every time we approached a plainclothes, probably off-duty LAPD peeker and say, ‘Good morning, officer!’ Okay, the fun was watching the ‘made’ surveillance guys’ faces after that ;-) I’m used to living with another telepath and world-class psychic, so DB doesn’t usually surprise me when we visit him in LA.
By the way, thanks mainly to DB and Rick Moors, there are NO CHEMTRAILS over LA any more but there are a whole lot of gorgeous clouds, including a parade of Sylph sculptures and very little smog any more, closer to the ground. The plant life in the LA Basin is vibrant and practically screams, ‘Thank you!’
We’re winning now.
DB had informed us that the secret police agencies have new ways of putting implants into people now, based on some reptilian technology. I watched that pan out during the day as just about every person who came close to us was fiddling with their glasses or using their cellphones in odd ways. He told us that these two devices have viewscreens on which our chi meridians light up and some crosshairs so that when the meridians are properly targeted, a magnetic propulsion system sends the nanotech implants into the meridian from a distance of up to ten feet or so.
When you pay attention, you can feel them go in. It’s a lot more subtle than the methods they had been using before, by the way. The older appliances shot implants by compressed air and the implants were larger, so they felt like a static shock or something similar. The darts a few of our cohorts found in their skin were quite a bit more painful but that method was apparently only used for a few months and was for poison, carried in hollow plastic darts. I think all the open discussion of that on the net stopped the CIA/NSA from using it by spring of this year. Some, including Carol, had been retrieving the darts, which often didn’t’ penetrate all the way into the skin.
When you sense that you’re receiving an implant, just take note of where it is and tape a magnet to it later on, of course, but DB rigged a small Tesla coil so that he holds the secondary coil in his left hand and attaches a long wire to the electrode at the top of the coil, placing the other end of the wire against the skin where there’s an implant. I did this and found about 11 implants, mostly around my throat area, which I’d received since the last time I busted all my implants, in January of last year ;-)
I found most of the newer implants on my own after DB and Carol told me where to look because the wire end gives a sharp tingle when near an implant and the tingle stops when the implant is dead—takes about a minute, usually.
Ken Adachi traded a smaller, battery-operated Tesla-coil type device with me a couple days ago and we’re testing whether this will do the same thing. It’s a good healing device, otherwise, I’m told, and he sells them for $300 or so on educate-yourself.org
We use a Tesla coil at home to boost our radionic effort to destroy the Federal Reserve Corporation and I know it’s doing a good job because as soon as I put it out in the pyramid the sewer rats jacked up their attacks against me ;-) and initiated some frantic aerial surveillance for a few weeks.
This is an aside, but right before we left, Kelly came over and handed us a small orgonite device that’s made around one of Cesco’s fascninating coil forms. Cesco’s an artist in Norway who has a genius for making energy devices out of wire, by the way. We’re trying to persuade him to market these creations. Carol and Ryan could see that the orgonite device was generating a vortex, so Kelly let me stick it out in the rotating part of our pyramid structure. Even I could feel the boost from that. The gift has no crystals in it, by the way, which supports my assertion that crystals are not the primary ingredient of orgonite. Rather, it’s the ordering aspect of crystals which boosts the etheric effects of the metal/resin mix. The jury’s still out on that, of course, as this was only one experiment. We need to consider whether the elementals will like orgonite that has no crystals in it, for instance, because it’s obviously the elementals who are able to connect the various devices and exploit their synergy.
On the way to the Punchbowl the nature of the surveillance gradually changed from the standard NSA/CIA box method in LA to a more subtle and comprehensive reptilian telepathic/visual network, reminiscent of The Agents on the movie, THE MATRIX. Also, we could see that there were a whole bunch of huge reptilian ships parked right over the Punchbowl, waiting for us.
DB said, ‘It’s probably going to get rough, so anyone who doesn’t want to face it needs to say so right now, before we get closer.’
Of course all four of us were ready and willing to die in our efforts to seize sacred ground from the occult world order, so there wasn’t any reason to pause.
He told us that the site was expropriated by the Jesuits (all reptilians) in the 1600s in order to facilitate their Illuminist human sacrifice rituals and thereby consolidate their control/genocide in the region. Devil’s Gate (JPL) was set up by them, too, directly on the other side of the San Gabriel Mountains in Pasadena. Aleister Crowley more recently arrived to consolidate the underground activity at Devil’s Gate, of course, with his protégé, Parsons. Note that the Jesuits’ arrival in California and the rest of North America followed the period of the Inquisition in Europe. They were pretty pumped up then by the blood of countless thousands of innocents.
The reptilians and their draconian overlords use a lot of these major vortices for hosting hyperdimensional portals, which is probably how Lawrence arrived there in the first place. They make their black robed chumps carry the terrified, naked stolen children on poles, trussed like pigs, down the trail, instead, from the parking lot.
The whole region is honeycombed with underground bases connected to Edwards Air Force Base. We hope to get back there with a few dozen earthpipes and clear out the entire ratnest.
By the time we arrived in the park’s lot, I was almost used to witnessing bizarre human behavior among our trackers, including one surreal ‘family’ who climbed out of a big Mercury sedan with a license plate which had nothing on it but a queer symbol (an orange triangle in a circle) on it when we were buying ice in a convencience store outside of Palmdale. The people were all caricatures and radiated hostility and hunger. I wonder what they tell cops to do when they see this license plate. That might make a good story all by itself.
Now I understood why the people of Los Angeles have always seemed so strange to me. DB says another reptilian ‘nest’ is Salt Lake City and of course there are a lot more, including Las Vegas, where Carol and I are right now, visiting Constantin and Lilly Ochescu. Predatory reptilians both generate and feed on human misery. I bet you know some of those.
In his very comfortable, lovely LA suburban neighborhood, none of the kids look at all like their parents and the kids sometimes let slip comments like, ‘This is Dad Number Four!’ The CIA Monarch Program, which includes many millions of severely programmed pajama people in all of the enormously (but previously) successful mind control subgroups, like MK Ultra, Artichoke, etc., is founded on the systematic abuse of little children and in many cases the murder of their birth parents, sometimes at the children’s own hands. I don’t know how far down the rabbit hole you’re comfortable to go, but suffice it to say that I don’t feel confident to share the whole smash in this article or anywhere else. A lot of folks who like to read my writing would be repelled by that information and I want you to keep reading, frankly.
It’s definitely time to end this occult nightmare, and expeditiously. The only thing the other side can’t survive is exposure. Telling each other about them is like putting salt on a slug.
Many, even most of us in this gifting effort are ‘alumni’ of these programs, though, including me, and we want payback, perhaps more than we want to ‘heal the planet’ or to ‘help mankind,’ though of course we wouldn’t have washed out of those programs as adolescents if we didn’t’ have consciences in the first place, or at least some personal integrity and character strengths.
The ones who stayed in have certain, distinguishing characteristics: they’re fearful, manipulative, shun accountability, are slavish and flattering, untrustworthy and self-seeking. In other words, take a new, harder look at the entire cadre of politicians, academics, bureaucrats, clergy, institutional scientists, rock concert habitués, pot addicts, designing women, angry men, most of the swelling gay/lesbian community, all of the Illuminist/satanic occult groups & fake religions, nearly all celebrities, ad infinitum. As I said, there are many, many millions of unwitting people and fewer conscious participants in the staggeringly massive Monarch Program, in North America, Europe, Korea and Japan. The ‘trilateral’ thing comes up again and again.
The only reason we washouts were not all killed is that countless thousands of deaths of boys and girls in their early teens who are not suicidal or sickly would awaken quite a few pajama people, so we were all foisted into dead end lives, instead. I was fifty when I woke up to my own potential, for instance, after a brief period in my late teens when I first realized that there’s a loving God. Keeping the PJ folks asleep is the secret of the world order’s hegemony, of course, since Illuminism is only parasitic.
I assume that if you’re reading this, you’ve already disabled all of the new death transmitters where you live. This allows the PJ folks around you to wake up to their own potential faster. If you haven’t done it, why not? You can sure afford it at 25 cents per tower. For the cost of a restaurant meal with booze you could do your entire small city.
Part of the alumnis’ desire for payback is that we’re angry that our handlers stuck us in bad relationships & dysfunctional families, blocked us from getting educations and making good livelihoods and overall just $%@#ed us over with dark, post hypnotic, very deep and self-defeating programming as adolescents, which in most cases has taken us decades to struggle out of and into the light of day.
I didn’t wake up to the fact that it doesn’t matter whether the world ends or not (as long as we live from the heart and in the moment) until the actual threat became blatantly apparent, two years ago after the death tower network was completed, worldwide.
Thankfully, this life’s pretty short and we’re able to eventually forgive even the most heinous of personal transgressions when we choose to focus on what’s best for our hearts and consider virtue to be its own reward. To live up in one’s noggin during these trying times is probably a new kind of suicide.
I have toyed with the idea of starting a suicide hotline for satanic feds, though of course it would really be just an information source: how to do it right the first time. Maybe I could just refer them to Jeffrey Dahmer and Jack Kavorkian, the Dynamic Duo. Waste not, want not. Maybe they could have made a group deal with Ray Kroc, since nobody really cares what’s in them burgers, anyway, as long as the thousands of effervescent, faux redhead Ronald McDonald clones roam the earth.
But I digress.
As soon as we started down the mile long loop trail into the Punchbowl, it was obvious, even to me, that the energy of that place was an absolute mess and the whole area reeked of death and despair. The only sound in the whole desert canyon was the buzzing of flies, in fact.
This is where they filmed the scene in which Captain Kirk battled the draconian, by the way.
Since DB had been there before, he knew where to leave the trail on the way to the altar. After a quarter mile, the trail got pretty steep and on one ledge, Carol, who was between DB and me, started to fall off a cliff and DB caught her. She’d gotten so dizzy from the energy that some devolved entity had an easy time just pushing her over backward there, so we decided that she shouldn’t go further and that I’d just take her back while DB and Ryan gifted the killing ground, not far from where we were then. We all knew that Carol wouldn’t have survived much more of that.
We made it back to the parking lot without a lot of trouble and we expected the other guys to show up an hour or so later but, as more and more reptoids arrived in the lot and constantly circled Carol, looking for an opening, I went back and forth between our Jeep and the edge of the canyon looking for some sign of the fellows’ return. Meanwhile, Carol kept searching for them telepathically and was getting a lot of interference from the non-humans.
This article’s longer than I expected and last night, after I’d written the above, our friend Constantin and I were stopped by Las Vegas cops and he was taken to jail for not having a driver license or license plates. He had been driving around this way for several years, having sufficiently humiliated the local judges with his knowledge of the real laws and he had been teaching me some of this after we arrived here in LV yesterday morning. The cops were simply waiting for an opportunity to arrest him yesterday and it happened when he and I were going to Lowe’s to get some 1 ˝” copper pipe. When the two reptiles were done trying to intimidate me and had cuffed Constantin and put him in the back of their patrol car, they told me ‘You’re free to go,’ so I walked across the street, bought the pipe and walked back to the house so that the feds could all see me carrying it. While he and I were getting harassed in the parking lot, a fed chopper was hovering overhead in between the times I blasted it. I guess they were gloating but we’ll shortly see who gets the last laugh, eh?
Carol and Lilly (Constantin’s Romanian wife) found the cops and Constantin, who were still there after I’d walked away, and the female cop hassled Carol, then began acting as a conduit for the draconians underground here, who of course know that we’re here to shut them down today and tomorrow. The ladies had massive headaches from that reptilian cop’s continuous assaults as soon as the little female one jerked open Carol’s door and began hassling her, but we thoroughly gifted the jail where Constantin’s being held, then overgifted the courthouse, copshop and City Hall downtown in case they’re foolish enough to stick him in front of that judge again this morning.
More on what Carol experienced with this cretin in the next installment, of course.
Anyway, I gotta go because I think we’re going to be busy giving those two reptile cops their comeuppance shortly, during the time we start hammering our gifts into the ground in and around Las Vegas. I’m not going to telegraph this specific sucker punch at those two cops because I relish the surprise factor sometimes.
Remember, folks: whenever the other side attacks you, FIGHT BACK! If you don’t want to fight back, please don’t expect things to get better.
I guess there are two cliff hangers in this account ;-)
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[The Devil's Punch Bowl Tale by Ryan McGinty]. Posted: Tue Aug 17, 2004 12:02 am Post subject: Gifting the west coast 7-28-04 thru 8-10-04