Current UFO disclosures and the incredible edible New York Times

Jon Rappoport's Blog

Current UFO disclosures and the incredible edible New York Times

by Jon Rappoport

December 31, 2017

(UFO archive, here)

The first thing to understand is that the New York Times broke the latest UFO story.

The story about: a secret Pentagon UFO research group; a US fighter jet that encountered a UFO off the coast of San Diego; and the recovery of “UFO metals.”

The Times broke the story, and then it quickly went global.

On the subject of UFOs, that never happens.

But it did.

Furthermore, the Times expressed no doubts about the information it was disclosing. There wasn’t the usual “he said, he said” treatment.

No detractors and harsh critics were quoted. This was a straight-from-the-Pentagon to the Times pipeline.

The Times story had all the earmarks of a government gift, not a leak.

This, too, never happens.

But it did.

The conclusion: the Pentagon wanted this…

View original post 1,090 more words

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BBD – Strange Bedfellows

It should be noted first and foremost that things are so bizarre and twisted that the rules don’t apply. For example, the enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my friend. Second, I enjoy looking at Eric Prince’s point of view about as much as I enjoy looking at Nixon’s, which is to say not at all.

But then there’s the truth, or at least what is probably so. And thus, this post. I cannot recall if I detailed some of this some other time, and am short on time for hunting it down. Probably did. As one might note, this experience informs quite a bit of my fiction writing.

1986. University. Being so closeted gay that sometimes I even fooled myself , I was in the middle of a separation from my wife and there was an infant son. A friend and fellow theater major was an on and off again Christian. When he was on, he was on.

One evening he was over consoling me due to what would the following year become my divorce. He was pushing me to pray with him. I considered doing so mostly to get him to stop pushing it so hard.

At that moment, a garbage bag, which was sitting in the middle of the nearby kitchen as it had for the preceding two days due to my lazy funk, opened up on its own. Three cans rolled out, one just after the other in what was almost 90 approximately 45 degrees of each other directionally.

We both laughed, I conceded, and for the next several years I wound up getting deeper into religion until such point that I didn’t feel entirely welcome as a gay person and it was clear that there was a lot of politicization going on where things like the Lewinsky scandal was concerned.

Of course I now believe Langley was responsible for this “miracle,” though it would be 23 years before I’d even guess that.

2001. 9/11. Eric Prince was poised to do the dirty work for CIA, including hunting down Al Qaeda in what was clearly an assassination program. Prince saw it, as many Americans did and still do if to a lesser degree, as an attack on Christianity by Muslims.

Pushed to the side was talk of CIA radicalizing Afghan {and Saudi, in order to deflect ire against the Saudi regime} youth via USAID education to repel the Russians. The program in Afghanistan alone started in 1979 with a $35M budget under Carter and was later expanded by Reagan to $350M.

2003, Prince’s wife dies of cancer. 2008, Prince’s 12 year old son Christian saves the life of his younger son Charlie. All of this, coupled with the prosperity it all brought, likely reinforced most of his biases. He becomes the boogeyman for CIA.

Which is exactly how they like it. Much as they manipulated Afghanis, they manipulated Eric Prince. As they used them to make the CIA relevant again after the fall of the Soviet Union, they use Prince as a useful tool to both continue the animosity between religious extremists and as a means of explaining why they are doing it.

Ultimately, it’s just greed. But religion has a way now and again of helping us to ignore that and to point to alternative explanations that disguise the true nature of the CIA and other organizations like FBI. In reality, they served millionaires, later billionaires, and now multinational corporations. Why people do what they do in service to that is merely how they get the job done, not the reason it gets done.

On the flip side, I expect Sam Harris’ situation, which I mentioned a few posts down, is similar. Yet he is an atheist. Let’s pause and think about that.

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Jon Rappaport Names People Involved in the UFO Narrative

And suggests motive based on their backgrounds, largely biological warfare and medical.

 

via Will the next UFO disclosure be “biological threats from outer space?”

BBD – Veterans Affairs

Just learned that, as part of some initiative, the VA is asking veterans, like my dad, questions like the following:

“Do you want to kill someone?”

“Have you ever wanted to kill someone?”

“Do you think that the CIA is out to get you?”

And more.

Of course my father, whom CIA did not dose with LSD and probably a few to several other substances, ruin his long term relationship, ruin his career and finances, destroy his reputation and at least for a time his mind, make his dog so ill it had to be put to sleep and then try to convince him that they killed his grandmother the same way, and, since I haven’t mentioned it lately, burn down a friend’s apartment building with her and her father in it {see here in chapter 24 again, this time note 7} and then run a PSYOP on him utilizing olive oil in a truck tailpipe hours later, unsurprisingly answered in the negative to all those questions.

Let me save whoever some time and confirm that my mother, likewise, would answer negative to all those questions. Hell, I was two years or so into the harassment before I believed it.

Post-9/11 US intelligence community is as bad or worse than Cold War US intelligence community and not a single person went to prison for the excesses then. Why, then, is it so surprising that excesses and abuse continue?

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BBD – Pre-Wormwood [Updated]

I haven’t actually gotten through the first episode of Netflix‘s/Errol Morris’ miniseries about MKULTRA yet. I will watch it. Saw the opening and realized it was at least partially about Frank Olson who was murdered by CIA for, most likely, having a conscious when MI6 tested a deadly nerve gas on a few of their own airmen, [UPDATE] or perhaps due to there being truth to the US employing biological warfare during the Korean War [/UPDATE]. But not before they drugged him and made him crazy.

However, it does explain why they threw Hamilton Morris, Errol’s son, in my path back in November or December of 2014. Besides fitting the very basic description of ‘Janus,’ he had traveled in the footsteps, from what I can tell, of one or more of the MKULTRA toxicologists who were checking on legends and exotic plants south of the US border. He also lived in Brooklyn, as did I and that is where I saw Janus those few times.

As I noted at the time, I didn’t actually believe that Hamilton was Janus, merely that fascist forces within the US government wanted me to think so.

In any case, I originally contacted Hamilton in an attempt to identify one or more substances that, most likely the CIA, surreptitiously doped me with. Since then, I have at least tentatively identified LSD–no surprise–as one likely candidate due to the bright colors seeming to come off the wall at a diner on Lexington Avenue in January of 2010. I have updated Wicked Game with that information.

In addition, as I’ve noted before, there was–at a minimum–also something that either was testosterone or enhanced testosterone production while I was in Minneapolis, to increase aggression it would seem. What precisely that was, I don’t know.

In any case, now it makes some sense. Note that Eric Olson, son of Frank Olson is also a consultant on the show. Looking forward to it when I find the time.

BBD – What Dreams Are Made Of

Preambling One

Let me begin with what may have prompted this ill-advised act, though to be honest most of you aren’t likely to believe it anyway, so it’s a pretty safe thing to have done.

Yesterday included a tirade on the Twitter and the Macebook regarding the high likelihood that DoD is more likely running psychologically operations–made legal via the NDAA which Obama signed originally and gets renewed enthusiastically by Democrats and Teapublitarians alike every year–on the populace with regards to “UFO parts” than actually being in possession of parts of some advanced civilization’s technology. More likely, it’s an effort to convince us that there’s something to it, and therefore allow Congress to weaponize space and they can all get even more kickbacks than 9/11 cash cow provided.

Goodbye every one of your rights.

Or, maybe it was the side note where I suggested that perhaps New Atheist darling Sam Harris, when he works on his neuroscience and religion research projects, is likely working for CIA/DoD. He doesn’t seem to get that it was brainhacking that got us into this mess in the first place and that he is Johnny Come Lately to the let’s-fix-it-by-mucking-with-the-gray-matter party.

See especiallyWashington Post, “From U.S., the ABCs of Jihad.”

Preambling Two

The substance of this post is with regards to, possibly and probably, ultrasound non-lethal weapon technology. In order to get any of that, you should first see this SONY patent, which I rather rudely foisted on Barrett Brown earlier today, who is simply trying to play virtual video games without being ambushed by Trump’s non-virtual assassins.

I exaggerate. I joke. But only a little.

Ultrasound, assuming it wasn’t some rather effective hypnotic or subliminal suggestion designed to appear otherwise. Maybe they’re just trying to cajole the Chinese into solving some technical problem they’ve encountered that would make what I’m suggesting below impossible {such as through-the-wall ultrasound…don’t know how/if that’s doable}.

SONY Patent

For those who need some terminology, the cerebral cortex is the sensory and thinking part of your brain. Yes. “Data,” e.g., sight, sound, smell, etc., and perhaps even thoughts and ideas beamed right into your head.

The point: We are running out of time. We are already to the point that they can find someone to do whatever it is they want done. That’s bad enough. Waiting until they can get anyone to anything seems like suicide to me, but then all of this is hard to grasp for a layperson.

The Meat

Right. Sleeping. Having a nightmare. Don’t recall exactly what it was except I was, as in real life, in bed. Something was in the bed with me. I could not move nor open my eyes. Just about the time something wrapped around my neck and came closer behind me, I managed to move a leg, my upper body still frozen, and opened my eyes.

Then I saw what looked like a window, and there was a real window as well, but this one was much closer and was covered with frost. It was dark, of course. I asked myself where TF was I? It took some seconds before the fake window faded and I saw the real one.

The old nightmare within a nightmare trope. Fun times.

The “frost” kind of looked like ghosting when you stare at a bright light, but it covered most of my visual field in a squarish pattern. Possibly not ultrasound but lasers or something.

Who knows? In any case, I’ll let you in on a secret. There’s a small, perverse part of me that doesn’t want people to believe it. The misery-loves-company portion wants the worst to happen if only so I can say “Told you so.”

But then I also try to rise above that.

In any case, this would have been quite the unpleasant experience had I not already been through so many other unpleasant experiences previously. I can imagine it working nicely to convince someone else that there is no point in resisting. You might even convince them that resistance is futile. *

PS: Don’t try this at home. 😉

* See what I did there?

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BBD – Miss Me?

Author’s Note: There might be a few editorials in the account below. As always in the rare instances when I am forced to do this, there are reasons for doing so and they don’t affect the point being made.

At work this past Sunday, I was starting my shift and in the middle of relieving a co-worker when a customer came up to the counter and asked if we had called Phoenix PD. We had not. I inquired as to why he asked.

It was because there were at least three patrol SUV’s blocking the parking lot, at least six officers in the parking lot and at the entrance, and some were armed with “rifles” {which I think were actually combat shotguns}.

My co-worker went out to inquire what was happening and was told to go back inside and to keep the customers in there as well. This continued for some 25-35 minutes at which point my co-worker called the non-emergency number and asked what was going on. Some customers were desirous to leave and we asked them not to.

The reply was that there was a report of someone with a rifle. It turned out that this was not the case, and I assume the person on the other end of the phone got the calls mixed up, but I’m not sure.

What had happened was there was a stolen car in the parking lot. The alleged car thief was in the store, though police apparently did not know that when they arrived.

And yet they behaved very much as if they did. Probably this is standard procedure. But there was something about how sure they seemed that he was that makes me wonder.

We eventually came out and asked them what was up. They questioned another man first, then the one who it seems was the one who stole the car. They wound up letting him go. He hung around the store for a while and then left.

Mere moments before the witness, the car salesman arrived, the thief walked away. Because at the time of questioning police could not confirm he was the one who stole the car, they had let him go.

The salesman identified him via a picture. A tow truck was arranged and everyone left.

Some hours later, now manning the store solo, I received a call from the salesman. He explained the method that the thief had used.

The thief had come to the lot with a car fob of the make that the lot sold. Pretending to be interested in buying a car, he got the fob for a match from the salesman, and when he started it up, backed it out a few feet and then pulled back into the spot, he switched the fobs.

He handed the bad fob to the salesman and then inquired about another vehicle, stating that he might go for lunch and then come back.

As soon as the salesman stepped toward the other vehicle, the thief hopped in the car and drove off.

What is not clear to me, much like the armed response, was how PPD knew where the car was, that is in our lot.

Then it occurred to me…while the method of theft was not on the genius level, it was somewhat sophisticated. It took some thought and guile.

And yet the thief just went to our store and parked it? Something was missing.

Some time after the call from the salesman, who had been concerned about the thief returning because they still had not found the key fob, a customer brought me the jacket that the thief had been wearing when I arrived to work but–and I had noticed–was not wearing when he departed.

In it, he said, was a .38. It turned out, I think, that it was actually a 380. When police finally came to get it, the officer removed the magazine and found one loaded in the chamber. He showed me the cartridge. It was similar to a hollow point but had some material filled in where the hollow portion was. I have forgotten what these are called,but I believe they were Hydra-Shok bullets; the purpose is that the rounds do similar damage to hollow points but stay in the body instead of passing through. Depending on how they are used, I am told that they can actually cause worse health complications than hollow points.

So there were the clues. Why steal a car, have a gun, and then just sit at my store?

I spoke to the manager this afternoon. The first time the manager had seen this guy, about a year ago, he had been talking to someone else in the parking lot about robbing the owner, who had stopped by to deliver what he thought was big money. It had actually just been a bunch of $1 bills, but he hadn’t noticed the denomination.

That was when it all fell together. He planned to rob the store and use the car for his getaway.

And yet, before I could really even start my shift, police were there blockading the building.

Now, lest you think PPD likes me or something, I really don’t think that’s it, just the day prior, Saturday, I had a retired NYPD officer, who said he had a brother or brother-in-law or similar in PPD, who on 24 November had placed a special order with a co-worker, play some silly PSYOP or mind games with me. He had promised me and my co-workers some PBA cards, which he stated–too jovially for someone in my position to take seriously–were “get out of jail free” cards.

I had heard of various stickers, decals, “deputy” badges, etc., that could reduce one’s odds of getting a speeding ticket. But a get out jail free card? I thought you had to be elected, have the last name Corp or Inc, or be a member of the terminally corrupt US intelligence community to carry one of those.

Anyway, he looked at his order, stated it was wrong, stated that one of the items was not something enough–even though it was the something-est thing on the market–and told me he’d be right back after grabbing a picture in his car of what he actually wanted.

He immediately started his vehicle and drove away. Precisely what the message of this nonsensical PSYOP–which began at the time he placed his order well before I gave that small donation to The Intercept last week–I just don’t know. It was very, very muddled.

Maybe it would have made more sense if they had, as they did in NYC, dope me with LSD first. Don’t know.

In any case, I’m laughing. But only so hard. There’s always a price to pay for that. And making a blog post like this one.

Still. “Curses! Foiled again!” is somehow on my brain. #lulz

And lastly, the fact that in this case, and several others, some of which I’ve blogged, some I have not, involved a POC was not lost on me. The post-WWII social program that lifted white families out of poverty but entrenched minority families in it, is something every American should be aware of.

Of course, even armed with that knowledge, one is not bulletproof. And that’s the rub.

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