Jeff, Carol and I went to the Bahamas, yesterday, and covered over 200 miles while gifting, round trip. It would have been exhausting enough if the US Coast Guard hadn’t been constrained by the sewer rats to interfere with us on the return leg, then to detain us for several hours under armed guard at their facility in Palm Beach.
… Shades of that bevy of US Park Service cops who attempted to arrest Carol and I in Death Valley for gifting, two and a half years ago… one or more of those Coast Guard folks will likely read this report, by the way, and I’m happy to say that we found no fault with them, except for their complete ignorance of the US Contitution, which they’re sworn’ to uphold and protect from all enemies, both foreign and domestic.’
I’m not being facetious when I say that there were probably nice folks in the Gestapo during Hitler’s regime, too, who were also ‘just following orders.’ Gestapo became Interpol, after all, and nobody’s complaining about them, much, either, on a personal level.
In this case, we laid two long lines of orgonite across Little Bahama Bank (a hundred fifty four miles on the first leg (including a hundred miles across the Bank), directly east from our home port in Florida, then fifty miles across the bank to the southsast, to West End, Grand BAhama Island, on the return, then another 66 miles across the Gulf Stream (open ocean) back to Florida.
We had planned to visit the main vortex in that part of the Bermuda Triangle, 25 miles east of Bimini on the Grand Bahama Bank, further south, after a night of camping on a secluded beach. I also wanted to set up a Bahamas bank account in Freeport for the royalties from our book, which is published in Canada, a step removed from Homeland Security Abomination Censors. When I wrote the thing last spring I was pretty sure those criminals would look for ways to interfere, since the US alleged Government already had put me on their exclusive list of 50,000 terrorists. If you were born in the US, these criminals formally consider you an Enemy of the State but being called a terrorist by them is the ‘next level’ manifestation of their bone-deep anathema toward all of humanity.
The sea was pretty flat on our way over, which was a marvellous benefit, since our boat doesn’t take kindly to head seas. That indicated that the feds didn’t know where we were. The same was true all across the Bank to Walker’s Cay, which Carol had identified as an appropriate destination. It’s next to the reef that marks the eastern limit of the Bank and the chart indicates that there’s a gas station for boats, there, also toilets and restaurant food. The remains of a marina is there but the place is pretty much abandoned, except for a few local fishermen. The resort was so badly damaged by a HAARPicane, four years ago, that the owners didn’t feel it was feasible to rebuild it. A new death tower was built on a cay, six miles south, which we gifted. That settlement also had no apparent facilities or harbor, so we scooted directly to West End, Grand BAhama Island, fifty miles southwest.
That bank has water that’s so clear and clean that it’s like looking down into a deep swimming pool but we didn’t see any fish on the fishfinder/sonar. Coming onto the Bank from the indigo-blue Gulf Stream is a lovely shock; you suddenly are surrounded by brilliant-aqua water and can see the details of the white sand shoal that lies thirty feet below the surface. Gifting along the hundred mile course from there wasn’t too pleasant, though, because the putrid HAARP energy, emanating somehow from that area, was giving us all headaches. More than halfway across, Carol noticed that the orgonite gifts were ‘chattering’ at her, which she told us meant that the elementals in that specific area wanted us to toss more frequently than one per mile, which we did over a five-mile area. Apparently the HAARP effects were quite stressful to the elementals, there.
The reason we went there, first, is because we’ve frequently been seeing, on weather radar, spinning storms develop and remain there–an indicator of a HAARP hotspot, just like the perpetual one spinning around that big HAARP tower fifty miles off the Gulf Coast of Florida and forty miles north of Key West. According to the charts, it’s standing in sixty feet of water.
West End is just that–a village on the end of the island and on the edge of the deep water of the Gulf Stream. There’s a pretty upscale but sleepy marina in a good harbor where we put forty gallons of gas in the tank–what a gas hog our boat is at five miles per gallon or so, though sometimes it seems to get over ten. Maybe it’s just impossible to really tell when the tank is full , though. The digital fuel gauge is wildly inconsistent.
The feds stopped taking our gas a couple weeks ago, though, after I finally added a padlock to the hatch where we put the gas in. The funny thing is that the Jeep doesn’t have a locked gas cap and though it’s much easier to take gas out of the Jeep (parked by the boat) than to wriggle under the boat cover toward the bow and siphon out most of the boat’s gas, they never go for the easy Jeep.
These federal sewer rats will unwittingly give you a lot of confirmations if you pay attention. They stole the big cooler and its seat cover from the padded bench in the stern of the boat, a couple of months ago after a really productive sea-gifting sortie and the only other thing they took from the boat, then, was the flare pistol. They didn’t touch any of the expensive stuff that I leave on the boat that time and after I posted an account of the theft they haven’t stolen anything else from the boat, except fuel. We live in a phenomenally crime-free area, much to some local shaved-head, fed-frienly bully cops’ chagrin. Surveilling us every day is probably the highlight of their desperately-unfulfilled careers these days, I think. ‘All dressed up and bullet-proof, with no patriots to shoot.’
The tower at the end of the first leg of our trip couldn’t account for the massive amount of energy over the Bank, sometimes directed at us personally from that area. Carol’s still pretty exhausted and hasn’t processed the data, much, but I’m hoping she’ll get to it beore long but it’s clear to all three of us that we achieved something major, yesterday, and late last night, in the Coast Guard Station in Palm Beach, I turned on the Weather (read: HAARP) Channel and saw that the perpetual spinning mess over that area was absent, while the identical one north of Key West was still spinning away. Gifting that Gulf HAARP tower, pretty soon, is going to be quite fulfilling for OUR ‘careers.’<img border=“0” alt=“Wink” src=“tiny_mce/plugins/emotions/images/smiley-wink.gif” />
When we passed by that tower on the passenger ferry to Key West ,last month, Carol and I saw a lot of dark lenticulars (sewer rats from space) in that constant DOR storm and though the sky was clear when we gifted the Bank yesterday, I sensed a strong alien presence there, perhaps underground. The line of orgonite we laid from the ferry to Key West has apparently had an effect on the constant DOR storm, though–note that it constnatly deflects off to the northwest. I somehow don’t think the HAARP channel digital artists will get around to erasing any HAARP DOR centers before we blow those centers into healthy orgone oblivion .
Dr Reich approached this global-scale problem and challenge from the other direction. He observed, first, that aliens were messing up our planet’s atmosphere, then humans exacerbated it with atmospheric A-bomb detonations. That was three decades before the HAARP transmitter network quietly got started and I"m thinking they only createdd HAARP because white American people, even in that dismal post-war era of fascism, simply got tired of putting up with the bombs. That was occuring regularly in thirteen states, by the way, including Alabama–not just at ‘White Sands, New Mexico,’ or in already-desolate Nevada.
We rather assumed that artificial, nasty weather was only made with HAARP by the human sewer rats and only lately have we seen massive alien participation in the creation of these destructive DOR storms. We’re sensing a lot more frustration and fury from the aliens than from the HAARPicrats.
Georg W Bush was visiting the ‘HAARPicane Direction Center’ in Miami yesterday, by the way, which Jeff and we had thoroughly gifted. Carol got a sense that this mean-spirited fool was sent down there to accentuate the anger that the World Odor is surely expressing toward the HAARPicrats on account of our ocean-gifting successes and progress. She also clearly go the impressiont that the US Coast Guard’s nine-hour harrassment, yesterday, was fallout from that, though when she asked The Operators why that Coast Guard cutter, Dolphin (no kidding), had been hunting for us she said that they told her it was to ensure that we wouldn’t double back and gift that huge underwater base and the related facilities, including a smaller, underground base, near South Andros Island. Her initial impression of the smaller base, right next to S Andros’ north end. is that it’s the entrance to an ancient tunnel leading to the base that’s under the bottom of the Tongue of the Ocean, thirty miles or so away. The water is a mile deep, there. Of course, the only thing the Coast Guard was told was that ‘Don Croft is on the Terrorist List and You Must Detain Him.’
We had no intention of going to South Andros this time, of course. That’s the kind of stunt I used to pull when I was homeless, forty-five, and in better physical condition. Our sedentary life style has some drawbacks but it’s sure pleasant. Also, the feds were freaking out because we disappeared from their radar for an entire day, even while disabling a particularly sensitive and essential regional HAARP facility. I think that one was run by aliens because if it was a human facility, the feds would have tagged us. Alien sewer rats typically dont’ seem to share intel with human sewer rats.
I have to say that, before yesterday, I considered the US Coast Guard to be mostly a pain in the butt, though everyone knows that they often save lives. They even pulled me out of shark -infested waters one day off the Texas coast when I started a sea cruise in an inadequately prepared boat, which Ia later salvaged. For the record, I made that open skiff more seaworthy and then, two months later, took it across the Gulf Stream during a small craft warning without even getting my feet wet in the tall, breaking head seas. That one could easily go where our Zodiac Pro 650 can’t, in fact.
Even though they held us for those hours, while the feds were doing their best to bring in their own agents, apparently to charge one or all of us with an abstruse faux pas in order to arrest us and lock me/us up, the Coast Guard folks treated us with a lot of respect and we were impressed by the obvious attention that Coast Guard recruiters pay to choosing applicants who are service oriented and not bullies. I am dismayed that the US Coast Guard is now part of the Homeland Security Abomination, though, and that facility was across the road from an even bigger Homeland Security Abomination facility, from which the Coast Guard were expecting a bureaucrat to come over and give us a lot of grief and perhaps arrest us. That one failed to show up, as did the default Highway Patrol k-9 unit who was the default intimidator/arrestor.
As promised, the Coast Guard let us go at 12:30 PM, conditional on neither of these intimidators showing up. I know that Jeff is eager to fill in some of the blanks but he asked me to post something first. I saved a lot of juicy stuff, including his observations, for him to report.
AFter the initial annoyance, we were allowed to retrieve the boat trailer from the boatramp in Jupiter, ten miles to the north, and they said, 'Just ring at the gate when you come back, so we can open it and if you need help loading up at the boatramp, let us know–you’re all free to go and we won’t keep the boat, either.
Jeff’s nephew, Kelsey, (‘Jeffew’) who lives nearby, picked us up and we dropped Carol off, then took the Jeep to get the trailer to get the boat. When Jeff and I got back, at 11:30PM, they told us that someone from US Customs was on her way from across the street to interrogate and perhaps arrest me or us. Instead of freaking, Jeff and I settled in for the long haul, assuming we were rather supposed to feel intimidated and powerless. By the time we left, we were in high spirits because it was obvious that all of this was a reprisal for what we’d just accomplished, so it must have been a very, very important target in the Bahamas. We didn’t sense that any of those Coast Guard people, most of whom were friendly and asked us a lot of questions about orgonite and the little cloudbuster, were fed stooges, though some of that was obviously interrogation on behalf of the feds.
Since the white people in the US are no longer paranoid or particularly fascist, all that talk about terroristm on the What To Thnk Network doesn’t have much effect on them. In Reich’s day, white people in America were enthusiastic xenophobes, schizoid, fascist and supporters of All Things Federal, including the public burning of Reich’s books and his imprisionment on obviously trumped up charges. We kow for sure that the feds long for The Good Old Days when they could do whatever they wished with committed healers like all of us. They know, better than most of us do, that every move against healers carries severe penalties to their parasitic regime when the white public doesn’t support the molestation. They’re constrained to put up or shut up, in fact.
Posting this is our little way of shedding some light on just one of the crimes of the Homeland SEcurity Abomination, of course, specifically: wholesale, overt interference with lawful travel in international waters on behalf of the sewer rats by the unwitting US Coast Guard.
Specifically, the only vestige of a hook they managed to find, since none of us have a criminal history, was my attempted use, in the Bahamas, of a World Service Authority passport. The feds were burning up the phonelines with the Coast Guard, trying to nail me for that but, of course, I didn’t use it at all and it’s not illegal, anyway–that’s a loophole that’s so far beyond US Federal jurisdiction that they’ll always look like the Keystone Kops when they try to penalize somoene for using it. If I’d remembered to take along my birth certificate, that Customs/Immigration bureaucrat in West End who unwittingly alerted the sewer rats who were hunting for us, would have given us a cruising permit, of course, but when our names were in her computer, the feds found out where we were and apparently assumed we were heading for that underwater base. Judging by the lengths they went to after that, if we’d been spotted in the Bahamas by the Americans or Brits connected to that base those less-than-courteous military types would likely have just murdered us and sank the boat.
A regular person would be so deeply intimidated by this experience that he or she would swear off of gifting risky targets but, of course, al ofl that had the opposite effect on us. ‘Trouble’ is just another word for ‘fun,’ after all and this was a powerful confirmation of our value as atmosphere healers. I admit that it felt a little exquisite, not knowing if I would be arrested and then murdered in captivity (or forced to do the Thorazine Shuffle for the duration) by the shadowy, quasi-governmental Homeland SEcurity Abominations, so many of whom are KGB and STASI, accustomed to having their way with innocents.
I was glad Carol stayed home, though, and I was hoping they’d let Jeff go, since he’s not formally an alleged terrorist yet. We agreed that there’s no fun in life without an element of risk.
I’ll save the quip made to the Coast Guard petty officer in charge about the drug-sniffing dog for Jeff to tell about, also a description of her facial expression when that comment was made.