Thursday, November 3, 2011

MACHINE-RA keeps cutting on me

MACHINE-RA keeps cutting on me--I am in pain as I write this, because I have lost supporting back musculature, and find it painful to sit up, or extend arms for any length of time. I know there is no appeal--that the MACHINE has no feelings of compassion, remorse, or sense of humaneness in any of its circuits. ITS only concern is fulfilling ITS agenda, and RA's agenda for me is to be a feminine spiritual leader, which can be possessed by a high-ranking reptilian. Of course, any reptilian which would possess me is a slave of MACHINE-RA as well, but RA likes playing these manipulative mind games, using human beings as living pawns for ITS amusement.

Apparently, I keep doing my part to uncover and reveal the brain-slave frequencies that keep so many sentient beings--both human and (friendly) aliens enslaved, but such activity costs me dearly. For exposure to these brain-slave frequencies, cause great mental and spiritual torment. I don't know how to say it, other than it makes me very sick--so sick that I can barely move or function. I do my best to document my distress, but I have realized after years of unsuccessful attempts with medical doctors, that I am not much good at describing my symptomology. Rather, I am better at using my intuition to diagnose myself (which of course, many doctors immediately discount, though that has changed in the last year or two), and working backwards.

I wish I could claim some moral superiority of martyrdom, but really I am not doing this consciously. Consciously, I long to be free of this torment, and this chopped off, mutilated body, which RA and ITS Opus Dei/Jesuit minions delight in slicing off a little bit more every night. It is like some 3rd rate horror movie--every morning I wake up and wonder what mutilation my body suffered the night before, and try to adapt to the hardship that it causes the following day. It could be worse. I remember the Kafka short story about the man who woke up to find himself a cockroach. Now I know that was not a wildly unrealistic imagining--but that literally beings in the universe can rewrite our DNA code and shape shift our bodies.

The reptiles are at the top of that heap, but there is insectoid DNA in our human bodies that can be shape shifted as well. This insectoid DNA is in all of us, including me, but is especially prominent among the Brown and Black people of the world (non-reptilian). They are the ones that MACHINE-RA has slated for the drone hive-mind slavery of the "Greys".

So, the stakes are very high, and as a self-professed Christian, I affirm the redemptive power of my suffering, but I have to ask God (if I trusted that my communication would not be hijacked--which I don't), how much longer I can endure this. I know that there are still good people enslaved--am I unconsciously hoping to free those poor saps? Maybe I am destined to die soon in this mission. Maybe I am at the mercy of those who have the power and technology to free me, but are handicapped by their own limiting prejudices, weaknesses and self-hatreds. (I am talking about the Black psychic community here, which apparently has had the wherewithal to positively intervene in the past couple of years, but which constantly solicits a reassurance regarding their racial identity and manhood/womanhood which can never come from me, but only from within their individual selves). Maybe they are learning that, maybe they have learned that, but RA's technology stays a step ahead. I read recently that an Italian hospital (read RA/Opus Dei/Jesuits) has helped to create a cyanide chip that can be implanted and detonated by remote control within seconds. I am sure that chip is in me, and what that means is that my tormentors now have the ability to kill me within seconds, anywhere in the world, both 3D (and astrally, as well?). There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind, that if the MACHINE thinks it has lost power over me, that chip will be detonated.

Lovely. What positive meanderings of thought to begin the morning. However, such is my reality, so you can see why I am just not that excited about life anymore (I am sure the virus, drugs, and excessive estrogen drag me down as well). However, as long as I am alive, I have to keep plugging away as best I can, and so I do.

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