Here’s an update from Ben Fulford’s free blog. Take note that while he somewhat praised the Jesuits at the frontlines this is never a complete absolution of the Jesuit Heirarchy.
However, we should be constantly reminded of the the Jesuits’ capacity to manipulate the mind. His connection to Gnostic Illuminatus, Alexander Romanov, who admitted to be part of the “Hidden Hand” that started the French Revolution, among others, should be a red flag.
We must remember that the Gnostic Illuminati sought to remove the bogus Queen of the Corporate United Kingdom in favor of non-Windsor Prince Harry. It turned out that the new Jesuit Pope is implicated to the recent death of Thatcher and impending resignation of the Queen. Are the Gnostic Illuminati and the Society of Jesus one and the same?
Another red flag should be Ben Fulford’s appearance on another Jesuit psyops site, Veteran’s Today.
It is also very useful to consider the latest update of the ITCCS at this time, which implicated the currrent Jesuit Pope to Argentinian Military Junta’s aquisition of Exocet missiles used against the Royal Navy under deceased Margaret Thatcher, to have a better picture of what’s been going on.
Whatever the case may be, we should trust our own capacity to weed out the evils in our society and seek to find, for ourselves, solutions on making life still worth living.
In the final analysis, we are the most powerful entity there is when united. Take some responsibility.
Why we must fight to the death against the fascists
by Ben Fulford
Anybody who is even partially aware knows that a fascist coup d’etat has taken place in the West. History teaches us that if we do not fight this take over to the death, we will be killed anyway. The only people who do not understand this are either part of the fascist regime or else so hopelessly dumbed down and brainwashed they can only be saved when the fascist propaganda machine is turned off. History also teaches us that if the people do become ready to fight to the death, fascists, who are cowardly bullies at heart, surrender almost without resistance.
To understand how and why we must overthrow the criminal regimes of the West, especially the United States, I believe Argentina makes a good case study because the group that took over Argentina is the same one that staged a fascist coup in the US after 911 and staged a slow motion take-over of the EU.
My father was Canadian Ambassador to Argentina during the dirty war and as a result I was a front line witness to those events. Although he was an atheist, he worked with the Catholic Church in a secret battle to save lives there.
The first thing to note is that the Jesuits have been slaughtered en masse several times in Latin America for helping the poor and downtrodden and thus learned to be very careful when dealing with the military wing of the Roman Empire in South America. To get an idea, please watch the movie “The Mission.” The Argentine dirty war, in which 30,000 people were kidnapped, tortured and killed, was just the latest in an ancient history of Roman military slaughter.
When I was there our next door neighbor was kidnapped twice. We had a 24-hour Argentinian special forces guard stationed at our house. One of them showed me his notebook from the police academy; it was filled with instructions on how to make bombs. He said he had been told to set off bombs so the military government could justify their fascist government by blaming it on the “terrorists.” He also said that he and his buddies grabbed leftists, hippies as well as “known criminals or troublemakers” and killed them in order to “make Argentina safe.”
Once, when some of the junta generals were at our house for dinner, my mother asked about the fate of some “leftists” who had recently been arrested. The general (I cannot remember which one) said “torture must not be handled by sadists, it needs to be done rationally and without emotion.”
During a bus trip down to the South of the country, me and a friend talked about things like Carlos Castaneda (of the Don Juan books) and marijuana. The bus was suddenly stopped by military policemen who came into the bus, pointed machine guns at us and dragged us off the bus. If I did not have a Canadian passport saying my father was a diplomat, we would have been tortured and killed. In our case, we were let go after they searched us thoroughly (and took whatever they liked). It turns out the police went after us because the lady sitting in front of us did not like our conversation and informed on us.
There were also cases at the time of things like people getting rid of rival suitors by calling the police and anonymously accusing them of being communists or the like.
My father risked his career to fight these fascists.
Here is a shortened version of the recollections of my father published in a local Ottawa, Canada news site by his colleague Pierre Beemans:
It was in a line-up at the supermarket on Holy Saturday that I learned of the death of Dwight Fulford, some four years ago…the news left me feeling that I had a chance to say goodbye and to remind him of why I held him in such high esteem.
It goes back to 1978, when Dwight was Head of Post in Argentina and I was in Buenos Aires as the working head of the Canadian delegation to one of those endless UN conferences on how to improve the world. As ambassador, Dwight was the formal head of delegation, but he made it clear when I checked in to the embassy that he had lots of other things on his plate and would be happy if he could show up for only the opening and closing sessions. Buenos Aires in 1978 wasn’t the happy place that I had first known in 1962. The generals were in power and the ‘Dirty War’ was in full swing: union leaders, journalists, student radicals, progressive priests, leftwing politicians and just about anyone with the wrong kind of books were being rounded up and questioned — if not jailed, tortured and tossed out of planes over the South Atlantic. A few militant groups, notably the ‘Monteneros’, were trying armed resistance but theirs was a hopeless cause.
Little of this touched the several thousand foreign delegates to the conference as we shuttled between our luxury hotels…Then he touched my arm and said, “Something’s come up at the Embassy. You might want to join me for this.” It seemed that a young woman and her 4-year old son had come into the Embassy early in the afternoon and, after closing hour, were refusing to leave and asking for protection…It seems that she had received two visits from the police asking her for the whereabouts of her husband, known to be a sympathizer of the Monteneros. She had told them that she hadn’t seen him for two years, that he was in hiding somewhere unknown, that she had received neither news nor money from him, and that she wanted nothing to do with him or his politics. The police didn’t believe her and in the second visit they told her that if she didn’t know, she certainly had ways to find out; if she didn’t provide them with an answer in 48 hours, she would be arrested and interrogated more ‘formally’, and she could say good-bye to her child. She and her son had left their house [and went to the embassy] with just the clothes on their backs so as not to arouse suspicion.
I asked Dwight if he believed her story. “Of course,” he replied, “this is happening every day in Argentina. Just the fact of coming here like this makes it impossible for her to return home. Their lives are in danger but they can’t stay here.” Dwight went out to the police guards outside the doors, told them he was locking up for the night, thanked them for their attention and wished them a pleasant night with their families. As soon as they were gone, we took the elevator with the woman and the child down to the basement garage. After the driver checked carefully, we bundled them into the ambassadorial limousine and drove away.
I asked Dwight where he was going to take them. “I don’t know yet,” he said, “and no need for you to know. I’ll figure something out. Good night and have a safe trip home.” Dwight was not a person for long speeches.
I learned some years later when our paths crossed again that he had found a place for them to stay while he made arrangements to get them out of the country. I gather it was worked out through the good offices of the Papal Nuncio. If he had been found out, of course, he would have been ‘ persona non grata-ed’ within hours, probably with an even frostier fate awaiting him on his return to Ottawa.
My father never talked about such things with us and he carried most of such stories to the grave with him. My mother recalls he once got a call from somebody thanking for saving his live and he did not even remember who the person was. The fact is though, he saved somewhere between 7,000 and 15,000 lives during his tenure as Ambassador to Argentina. He also saved large amounts of people from Fidel Castro’s concentration camps in Cuba during the early 1960’s. The only thanks he got from his government was to be taken off the fast track for promotion by the corrupt Prime Minister Brian Mulroney.
It makes me deeply ashamed the current Prime Minister of Canada, Stephen Harper, is cooperating with those same tyrannical forces by allowing the Canadian military to participate in criminal military actions in places like Libya. You can be sure, though the forces of justice will one day catch up with him.
In any case, although my father did what he could in the circumstances he was in, I believe we need to be more pro-active and take the battle to the fascists.
If the US patriotic military wishes to restore the Republic of the United States and fight for justice and human rights, then it is time to act.
Posted at 21:50 | Permalink |
JAKARTA – April 23, 2013: Up front alert – this is not a news bulletin. This does not contain the latest blow-by-blow between Neil Keenan’s team and the late not-so-great OPPT. This is not a cunning stratagem doubling as an engaging dispatch from the front lines (though I’ve gotten rather fond of writing those). You don’t need to read between the lines here to figure out which parts are Michael H. Dunn the choir boy and which parts Neil Keenan the warlord.
This is all choir boy – but it’s about my personal impressions of the warlord.
As perceptive readers will have noted (and as I candidly admitted early on), the “engaging dispatches” of the past two months were written by me, and vetted and improved upon (OK, let’s be honest – brutally toughened by) Mr. Keenan, with indispensable insight and editing suggestions provided by Jean Haines. We are, after all, in a war (in the end-game of it, we believe, with the rewarding work of implementing global humanitarian programs just around the corner, but still for some days yet, yes, in a war), and there is an art to war, as the ancient Chinese strategist Sun Tzu has reminded us. When at war, you do not tell your enemy what you are really doing. Unless, of course, you want him to think you’re lying. Nor do you tell your enemy where you really are. (Do you really think we’ve been in Jakarta all this time? Ha, ha, ha! But, then….maybe we really are in Jakarta! Or maybe we just hired a few dozen Indonesian extras to play the parts of prisoners and their families in a crowded courthouse holding cell, and flew them to the U.S. or some neutral territory so we could fool you all with a phony interview with Nelu Wibawa! Seriously, folks – some people are now proposing this.)
By the way, we’ve moved our base of operations to Hawaii.
For the sweet naïve folks who find all this art of war stuff terribly “3D,” and unworthy of an about-to-be-ascended “lightworker,” I can only say that if that’s your perspective, then the next time you play a game of chess you should immediately move your king into the most vulnerable position possible, to ensure the quickest possible checkmate, thus bringing a swift and merciful end to this brutal simulation of human conflict. And if one of the many good police offers in the world answers your urgent 911 call, entering your home to apprehend a violent thief still on the premises, you really should immediately urge the officer (in keeping with your “5D” principles) to put down his weapon and call out to the violent thief to come meditate with you in your living room, in hopes of resolving this nasty conflict through the appropriate post-2012 method of mutual vibration-raising.
This analogy is apt, folks – the cabal is composed of violent thieves. Violent thieves in suits, for the most part, but still violent thieves. And Keenan is one of the cops answering the call to take them down – do we really want him to be a cross between the Dalai Lama and Mr. Rogers? If he were, he would have been dead early on against the cabal – and a lot more of us would probably be dead by now too.
So, yes, a lot of these dispatches have had the art of war in mind. Back in mid-March, when intelligence came to us from a high source of a credible threat against our team’s safety, I shared in one dispatch a snippet of dialogue from one of our editing sessions, in which Neil corrected my usage of the somewhat Shakespearean phrase “will have their throats cut” to what he informed me was the more plainly understood underworld terminology, “will have their throats slit.” Yes, oh my goodness, mercy me! Mr. Keenan knows the underworld! That terrible man! And he has friends in the CIA! Heavens! How can we trust him? He grew up in Rhode Island and knows “good fellas” – and most of the time he sounds like one! Shun him at once! He is prone to making vulgarity-laced statements about picturesque punishments he would like to see meted out to those who oppose him – or even to those who merely annoy him. Can we really allow such a low-vibrational being to be appointed guardian of the Global Accounts? Surely, such a thuggish fellow must be merely a cabal front man, whose ultimate goal is to return us all to a rebooted financial slave system?
On the other hand (and this is probably news to most), he was also a friend of Pope John Paul II, has a highly developed extra-sensory gift, has been visited by the visible spirits of departed family, been blessed and chosen through Indonesian ceremony by high Elders, and is accompanied at all times by intensely vigilant white-faced guardian devas (who occasionally make themselves visible to him, which kind of freaks him out). And he’s something of an authority on the ancient Thracian ruins of Bulgaria, and the voyages of Christopher Columbus. Also worth noting is that he was one of the best basketball players of his generation in New England, setting numerous records in both high school and college, and playing pro ball in Europe. His skills as a Golden Gloves boxer (29 and 0 in his day) recently came in handy on a street in Europe when he was attacked by knife-wielding assassins (with the help of an Army Ranger buddy whom God placed conveniently at the scene, the thugs ended up on the hospital).
One of my personal favorites among Neil Keenan stories is when George W Bush got on the phone with him, and Neil said, “Oh wait – I think I know you…aren’t you that cheer-leader from Connecticut?”
Dubya went ballistic.
Or when Queen Elizabeth II called Neil regarding an enormous cabal Federal Reserve note she was trying to steal, and Neil said, “Ma’am, you need to understand something. You’re not my queen! I’m Irish!”
And when Neil Keenan organized the epic “500th Anniversary of Christianity in the West” in 1992 in The Dominican Republic, he personally hosted Pope John Paul II, impishly daring to say things to His Holiness that make my still-Catholic hair stand on end, such as, “Hey, Father – stand here, would you please, and face the Caribbean Sea while you’re saying that blessing, ok?”
The Polish pontiff (who by this time knew Keenan was a loose cannon), rolled his eyes, and asked ‘why?’ To which Neil replied that he could then make a fortune by going down to the beach and filling thousands of little bottles with water, since the whole sea was now “holy water personally blessed by the Pope!”
And John Paul replied, “And what if I say ‘no?’”
Keenan didn’t miss a beat. “Well, Father, then I’d have to sell “Pope on a Rope!” “And that is?” asked John Paul. “Well, of course, that’s just little soap figures that look like you, and then we put them on a rope for the bathtub, and people wash their private parts with them!”
As Keenan tells it, the Pontiff laughed long and loud. And afterward, he invited Keenan repeatedly to visit him in Rome, and called him several times at home in later years, just to say ‘hello.’
So Neil Keenan goes through life pretty much laughing, joking, singing, flirting, or fighting – mostly fighting, these days, but walk through a Jakarta shopping mall with him, and it’s mostly joking and flirting. But he’s an equal-opportunity flirt, calling out compliments to about two dozen different pretty shop-girls in a good-sized mall in one thirty-minute stroll. Not a “swordsman” anymore – he just likes seeing them smile.
And when one of the Rothschilds calls us here in Jakarta (as happened last night) to tell us she hopes Jean Haines re-opens the comments on the blog so that this high cabal heiress can share her own Rothschildian thoughts with the world on our latest post, what does Neil do?
Flirts with her, of course…..
But the fighter comes out fast. If we walk out of the mall to get a taxi, and he sees someone cut in line to cheat and grab a cab ahead of others who’ve been waiting, the unfortunate would-be cheater will be immediately subject to the warlord’s wrath, which is uttered with such force and such unconscious assumption of authority, that everyone on the scene just says “whoa!….let’s back off and do what this guy says, OK?”
Kind of like what’s happening with the Global Accounts.
And just what does Mr. Keenan actually say in his righteous anger? Well, I’ll leave the exact words to your imagination, but it usually involves a threat to remove the offender’s head from his body, accompanied by a liberal mix of expletives, while dark scary rays shoot out of his black Celtic eyes.
And believe me, the offender obeys. It’s kind of amazing to watch, time after time. I mostly squirm during these encounters because (let’s face it) I actually am the diplomatic, poetic, peace-making, meditating, lyrical dude who all of Drake’s people think is diluting the ferocity of their beloved mad-man Keenan (not to worry, Drake and Co. – nobody can dilute this guy’s wrath, and every dispatch had his seal of approval….well, except this one, of course).
Or did it? You figure it out….
To be honest, the guy drives me nuts a good portion of the time. His energy almost never quits. His joking almost never quits. His goofy word-plays on our friend Inchul Kim’s various nick-names have been replayed for every taxi-driver and waitress in Jakarta for the last two months (“this is my friend Mr. Yuno – do you know Yuno?…you know?”), and if we get in a cab one more time and Neil tells the guy again to take us to Ethiopia, I think I’ll tear my hair out.
Well, for variety last night he did say “Sardinia,” so I guess I should be grateful for small favors.
These are all just my impressions, of course, and I’ve only known Mr. Keenan for a few months. I’ve only read a few pages in that book, and I’m sure there’s many a private chapter of which I will never hear (and I’m not sure I want to). But I’ve seen him at close quarters day in and day out under high stress for sixty days now, so make of it what you will.
If there’s a dominant impression I should leave you with, it is this: Neil Keenan is a winner. He is a good guy who is determined to take down the cabal. He is smart, and cunning, and brutally tough, and he will not back down. He is fiercely loyal to his friends, and possesses a killer instinct for finishing off an enemy that reminds me of Michael Jordan. He does not quit. He is totally fearless. And he will win.
And so will we all.
Michael Henry Dunn
One of the significant sources of funds for the Cabal is the healthcare industry which registered a whopping $2.7 trillion in 2011, and is projected to soar to $3.6 trillion in 2016, in the US alone. We believe that this is just a conservative figure.
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Levi H, $20
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Russ M, $20
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Joyce D, $10
Chris A, $5
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Linda H, $6
Terry B, $5
Chris A, $1
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Wendell I, $12
Edgar R, $10
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