Putting the Pieces Together, an Intel Drop

I began today setting up my JBL Boombox (Amazon/refurb) playing my running playlist. Normally, I would be roadtripping, visiting friends in the UK or family in Germany, family I miss.

The music is all I have that ties me to myself, Nina, Django, Ella and Vietnam era stuff. So many of us remain in Vietnam.   I close my eyes and I am there, beautiful days looking across rice paddies, on landing ships, or sitting up on watch during ambushes.

It is frightening to think a year or so of one’s life is defining.  I found myself tested there in every way, loyalty to friends, compassion and conquering fear, ‘the mind killer.’

So much of the joy I find now in little things would not be there but for Vietnam.  So often I would like to have my little tiny friends back.  We were giants, we were children.

Most died there (really) and some died slowly when they returned.  For too many, diminished, lessened, a horror. For me, I sought out more wars, an attempt to find the only home I had ever known on the other side of the Pacific.

Today I look at an America where only 68 million are beyond redemption, a small number.  I take heart.  If I knew what I know, that life is about real service, not “self service,” I would have done much different.  I wouldn’t have stayed stupid those extra decades.

So much has been fear, America is about fear.  Everything is luck and those who have had it, think they are blessed and their souls die.

We are here to shepherd this planet, its people, its life, all life, not to scrabble over scraps.

I am reminded by something I wrote about 20 years ago.  I grew up in a family of people that fished, an obsession.  Back in the late 50s, driving up into Ontario on gravel highways was an adventure, dragging a 16 foot boat filled with boxes of food and kitchen appliances which we traded for lodging.  Canadians would pay anything for a pop up toaster.

A favorite spot was the French River.  We stayed on a small rocky island in a rented log cabin.  Fishing was early morning and afternoons and evenings.  During the day, we would take the boat in, get in the car and visit Noelville or other French Canadian towns, looking for a bakery or anything.  There was nothing for miles but rocks and mosquitos.

I would take the boat out, cruise down a few miles and come back.  On a tiny island about a quarter mile away there was a shack.  This was “the major,” a very PTSD World War I veteran.  A recluse.

He did one thing, nurse injured wildlife.  I would watch him take his row boat out, birds followed him, sat on him, sat on his boat.  You would see him pick one up, talk to it, put it down.  This was a real Radagast the Brown.

I remember our last trip, we hadn’t been there for two years as we had started fishing the West Arm of Lake Nippissing, using a larger boat, chasing bigger fish.

The shack was fallen in.  At the locals told us that he died.  Why do I remember him?

You know, we have forgotten what ‘grace’ really means.  Those very few who ‘pay the bills’ for the rest of us.

There is nothing of remote value that can be bought for money.  We look at those who have the empty eyes…doll’s eyes.

VT waded into this election knowing what was at stake.  It is estimated that we take as many as 2 million votes with us.  Every effort was made to stop us, the FBI was sent after us over and over and even they fell in love with VT.

The idea we could have the top US and Soviet psychological warfare people (retired) on the same team seemed impossible.

We waded in because we saw early on what was going on, that the US had been targeted for takedown, for destruction, by a criminal conspiracy of intelligence agencies that got tacit approval from both Russia and China, Trump’s biggest real backers.

Everyone around Trump looked to the east. Plane flights to Ukraine to meet with Kosher Nostra dons, Russian intel officers, terrorist leaders, 3 dozen of Trump’s boys burned up the airline miles.

A network that includes neo-Nazis in Netherlands, Belgium, France, Italy, Hungary, Germany along with the full Nazi regimes of Lithuania, Poland, Ukraine, Georgia, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Israel, Bahrain…

This network held together by Freemasonry and its many forms, Bolshevism and its Fascist twin, the Muslim Brotherhood, Zionism, Christian Evangelicalism, Frankism, Luciferianism…

The child trafficking cults are very real.  Between  2015 and 2017, VT personnel, working with US and Italian authorities and the Keshe Foundation established solid ties between American “elites,” MEGA/MAGA, including 5 SCOTUS members and the Dutch and Belgian ‘black nobility.’

The network ran kids from Africa, the Balkans, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq into Masonic brothels of the UK, Netherlands and Germany. The US had its own partner networks.

All of this was done with help from several intelligence agencies, Mossad, DHS, MI 6 but others stood firm against them.

Partnered with the worst of them, police from the UK, Belgium, Germany, Netherlands but not France, not Italy, not Spain and not the FBI.

The same ratlines that run kids run weapons and terrorists as well, using consulates like Milan and elsewhere.  Europe has internal sea lanes across the Baltic and Mediterranean, Albania to Italy being the biggest, huge ferries loaded with trucks.  They go everywhere and organized crime controls the ports, like Bari and Ancona.

VT was on the ground there with CT groups.  So much of the daily work is done by Mehran Keshe.

With 73 million votes, an unimaginable number and over 50% majority, there will be no way the election will go to Trump, not and have America survive in any form people recognize.  States will simply leave, first a few then everyone.

Nobody wants to ride a train over a washed away bridge.

Pennsylvania will go Biden, really has as the unreported count is going that way and the more votes, the bigger the margin.  Georgia same.

Let’s begin with COVID.  Ignoring COVID isn’t saving the kids from missed games and holidays.  We did that long ago.  Since 9/11, we have been raising kids in a fledgling banana republic tyranny that has destroyed their futures and poisoned every day the live.

We try to protect them but with 68 million Americans, half parents, mentally unfit…

This didn’t start with 9/11.  Nixon almost beat Kennedy and that was a pure race, Nixon was evil and John Kennedy an angel sent to live among us.  Lying Zionist media can’t change the truth for those of us who were alive and awake then.

There are bright spots.  Bush 41 turned out to have a soul.  John McCain, who lived a controversial life, one VT followed, died a hero.

People can change. In Washington they are few, so very few.

VT took on projects.

• Teach the stupid Russians not to play with things they don’t understand
• Destroy the ADL and AIPAC
• Expose the Kosher Nostra
• Shine a light on America’s vast occult underworld
• Save the Syrian people
• and remain untouchable

To accomplish this, we set up our own ‘mad monk’ cult.  We employed intelligence gathering capabilities the Gulf States hired us to build, spent a billion dollars on, and turned it to the cause of humanity.

We ran our own SETI project, looking for intelligent life on earth. The hardest thing has been to survive knowing what we know, holding back anger at the sea of injustice drowning everyone.

In the process, we have all become better people, a trial by fire that burned so much of our own stupidity and arrogance away. We learned we were much more like the enemy than we knew.

So much arrogance and fear.  Several at VT sabotaged lives as part of ‘the chosen.’  It was fear of our own weakness.  I began to find myself becoming addicted to the fawning admiration of DC powerbrokers.  It wasn’t hard to see the gleaming rows of teeth behind the smiles, lesser men who would be Masters of the Universe.

Running away was so much easier.

What is a ‘Master of the Universe?’

As years have gone on, being a ‘chosen one’ doesn’t stop cancer or the American disease eating away the lives of those we care about.  As gang leader at Adamas, I remember our gatherings, sometimes with the rich and famous who pay the bills and put their names on the board and directorships but at other times the core of spies and real warriors, not the bearded jokes we see today.

It was my job to turn everything into a vacation and to build a family where I didn’t have to be the smartest guy in the room.  This may be my skill.

If you are lucky enough to live long enough, perhaps not lucky at all, things will hit you like a truck.  Find the times in your life when you felt real joy.

When was the last time you played baseball or really played at all?

I think back to the 80s.  I had come to an impasse with my employer over certain policies (ethnic cleansing).  This sent me back home to Michigan, driving 30 feet of truck with my Volvo trailered behind, a run of about 1400 miles.

I had two passengers, my 4 year old and his hamster.  In a couple of weeks he will have been dead for 14 years, the kid.  I can still go back to that trip, the breakdown in Louisville and how everything was fun as long as ‘dad’ was there.

I was probably happy most of the time in Vietnam.  Jim Dean loves this photo.

The world I hoped would come about never did.  The people we were supposed to become, for most never happened.  So many died inside.  There were lessons there for those who had their eyes open.  Death is an advisor, if he isn’t coming for you, anything is possible.  If he is, you turn and face him, the way of the real warrior.

I remember getting stuck in Durham, north of Manchester.  We had flown in from Dublin and I predicted my skills would handle such things as food and shelter, not taking to account a certain sports contest that would fill every spare room for miles.

We pulled into a pub on the north end of town and I went up to the bar and asked advice.  This put a bar tender on the phone for half an hour.  Carol had picked out a couple of overstuffed chairs near a fireplace.  Yes, it was cold and raining, I left that part out.

During that half hour, I met everyone there and drinks were poured down me.  We got a room in a hotel 30 miles away, a big win.  We ordered dinner and wished we could take this place and its people with us.

This was the America that doesn’t exist now, maybe never did.  For those who would learn about Britain, catch the reruns of Heartbeat on Prime or its sister series, The Royal.

When I think about “America first,” I think of my friends there and in Ireland and Scotland, particularly Robbie, who was such a wonderful host last summer…when it was also cold and rainy. (Scotland)

There are no countries, only people.

We have no duty, we are here to care for each other and to build a future for our children, the human ones, and others as well.

Putting the Pieces Together, an Intel Drop