Trance-Formation of America: Trance-Formation of America: The Most Dangerous Game (excerpt #3)

Tue Dec 25 00:11:28 EST 2001

During Christmas vacation of 1974, my father flew us all to Disney 
World by route of Tampa, Florida. Ignorant of geography, it did not 
occur to me that Tampa was out of the way to Disney World until my 
father drove the rented van to the gates of MacDill Air Force Base. 
Military personnel met me there and escorted me into the base TOP 
SECRET high tech mind control conditioning facility for "behavioral 
modification" programming. This was the first in what became a 
routine series of mind control testing and/or programming sessions 
on government installations that I would endure throughout my 
Project Monarch victimization.

Whether I was in a military, NASA, or government building, the 
procedure for maintaining me under total mind control remained 
consistent with Project Monarch requirements. This included prior 
physical and/or psychological trauma; sleep, food, and water 
deprivation; high voltage electric shock; and hypnotic and/or 
harmonic programming of specific memory compartments/ personalities. 
The high tech equipment and methodisms I endured from that time on 
gave the U.S. government absolute control of my mind and life. I had 
been literally driven out of my conscious mind and existed only 
through my programmed subconscious. I lost my free will, ability to 
reason, and could not think to question anything that was happening 
to me. I could only do as I was told.

In the summer of 1975, my family drove all the way from Michigan to 
the Teton Mountains of Wyoming. I was ordered to ride in the back 
storage area of the family Chevy Suburban since I was forbidden to 
associate or communicate with my brothers and sister. So I dissociated 
into books, or into the metaphorical, hypnotic suggestions from my 
father and tranced deeper as I watched the prairie's seemingly endless 
sea of "amber waves of grain" streak past my window. Once when we 
stopped at a gas station, my father took me inside to show me a 
stuffed "jackalope" mounted on the wall. Due to my tranced, dissociative 
state and high suggestibility level, I believed it was indeed a cross 
between a jack rabbit and antelope. It was 100+ degrees in the Badlands 
when it cooled down at night. The intense heat of the day accentuated 
my ever increasing thirst. My father was physically preparing me though 
water deprivation for the intense tortures and programming I would endure 
in Wyoming.

Dick Cheney, then White House Chief of Staff to President Ford, later 
Secretary of Defense to President George Bush, documented member of the 
Council on Foreign relations (CFR), and Presidential hopeful for 1996, 
was originally Wyoming's only Congressman. Dick Cheney was the reason my 
family had traveled to Wyoming where I endured yet another form of 
brutality -- his version of "A Most Dangerous Game," or human hunting.

It is my understanding now that A Most Dangerous Game was devised to 
condition military personnel in survival and combat maneuvers. Yet it was 
used on me and other slaves known to me as a means of further conditioning 
the mind to the realization there was "no place to hide," as well as 
traumatize the victim for ensuing programming. It was my experience over 
the years that A Most Dangerous Game had numerous variations on the 
primary theme of being stripped naked and turned loose in the wilderness 
while being hunted by men and dogs. In reality, all "wilderness" areas 
were enclosed in secure military fencing whereby it was only a matter of 
time until I was caught, repeatedly raped, and tortured.

Dick Cheney had an apparent addiction to the "thrill of the sport." He 
appeared obsessed with playing A Most Dangerous Game as a means of 
traumatizing mind control victims, as well as to satisfy his own perverse 
sexual kinks. My introduction to the game occurred upon arrival at the 
hunting lodge near Greybull, Wyoming, and it physically and psychologically 
devastated me. I was sufficiently traumatized for Cheney's programming, as 
I stood naked in his hunting lodge office after being hunted down and 
caught. Cheney was talking as he paced around me, "I could stuff you and 
mount you like a jackalope and call you a two legged dear. Or I could 
stuff you with this (he unzipped his pants to reveal his oversized penis) 
right down your throat, and then mount you. Which do you prefer?"

Blood and sweat became mixed with the dirt on my body and slid like mud 
down my legs and shoulder. I throbbed with exhaustion and pain as I stood 
unable to think to answer such a question. "Make up your mind," Cheney 
coaxed. Unable to speak, I remained silent. "You don't get a choice, 
anyway. I make up your mind for you. That's why you're here. For me to 
make you a mind, and make you mine/mind. You lost your mind a long time 
ago. Now I'm going to give you one. Just like the Wizard (of Oz) gave 
Scarecrow a brain, the Yellow Brick Road led you here to me. You've 'come 
such a long, long way' for your brain, and I will give you one."

The blood reached my shoes and caught my attention. Had I been further 
along in my programming, I perhaps would never have noticed such a thing 
or had the capability to think to wipe it away. But so far, I had only 
been to MacDill and Disney World for government/military programming. 
At last, when I could speak, I begged, "If you don't mind, can I please 
use your bathroom?"

Cheney's face turned red with rage. He was on me in an instant, slamming 
my back into the wall with one arm across my chest and his hand on my 
throat, choking me while applying pressure to the cartorid artery in my 
neck with his thumb. His eyes bulged and he spit as he growled, "If you 
don't mind me, I will kill you. I could kill you -- Kill you -- with my 
bare hands. You're not the first and you won't be the last. I'll kill 
you any time I goddamn well please." He flung me on the cot-type bed that 
as behind me. There he finished taking his rage out on me sexually.

On the long trip back to Michigan, I lay in a heap behind the seats of 
the Suburban, nauseated and hurting from Cheney's brutality and high 
voltage tortures, plus the whole Wyoming experience. My father stopped 
by the waterfalls flowing through the Tetons to "wash my brain" of the 
memory of Cheney. I could barely walk through the woods to the falls for 
the process as instructed, despite having learned my lessons well from 
Cheney on following orders.

The next year when our "annual" trip to Disney World rolled around, my 
father drove, pulling his new Holiday Rambler Royale International trailer. 
My father dropped me off en route at the Kennedy Space Center in Titusville, 
Florida where I was subjected to my first NASA programming. From then on, I
 was "obsessed" with following the "Yellow Brick Road" to Nashville, 
Tennessee. Moving to Nashville was all I could talk about. If anyone asked 
me the question I could not think to ask myself "Why?", I would respond by 
reiterating it was something "I had to do."

TO BE CONTINUED...

--
http://www.trance-formation.org/
http://www.trance-formation.com/

Trance-Formation of America: Project Monarch (excerpt #1)
http://www.trance-formation.com/book_excerpts/monarch.htm
http://howardk.moonfall.com/msgid.cgi?ID=100925768100
http://groups.google.com/groups?selm=EC8F5BAE.8523C14B%40trance-formation.com&output=gplain
http://howardk.moonfall.com/msgid.cgi?STYPE=msgid&MSGI=%3CEC8F5BAE.8523C14B@trance-formation.com%3E

Trance-Formation of America: Trance-Formation of America: From Dorothy to Tinker-Belle (excerpt #2)
http://www.trance-formation.com/book_excerpts/dorothy.htm
http://howardk.moonfall.com/msgid.cgi?ID=100925953900
http://howardk.moonfall.com/msgid.cgi?STYPE=msgid&MSGI=%3C62371BB7.8BC522F0@news.clara.net%3E
http://groups.google.com/groups?as_q=&num=10&as_scoring=r&btnG=Google+Search&as_epq=&as_oq=&as_eq=&as_ugroup=&as_usubject=&as_uauthors=&as_umsgid=%3C62371BB7.8BC522F0@news.clara.net%3E&lr=&as_drrb=q&as_qdr=&as_mind=12&as_minm=5&as_miny=1981&as_maxd=24&as_maxm=12&as_maxy=2001
--
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://mail.python.org/pipermail/python-list/attachments/20011225/6040298f/attachment.htm>