Here's an in-depth review of a book by a guy who actually rode with several of these groups: http://www.multistalkervictims.org/terstalk.htm#WHOAREWE
It tells a bit about who they are, and what their motivations are.
Now for some true hardcore tinfoil (if one can call foil "hard core")
This morning I was thinking about a ridiculous paranoid tale of a book that I had rejected in the past as being way too improbable and had factual errors. But then I thought to myself, hey - my story is paranoid fantasy to many people, maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge. And also, the book sort of links into my experiences by stating that there's a parallel govt training center in the Mt Shasta area ..... (and a private pleasure ranch owned by Dick Cheney, hunter). The book was written before Cheney became VP, and describes him as a very big player in the parallel govt. Cathy O'Brien was abducted as a child to become a sex slave for the parallel, and was broken down by MK Ultra mind control techniques to become little more than an unquestioning robot for TPTB..... at least that was the idea. She managed to break through the conditioning to think for herself.
The place where it becomes entangled a bit in my own story is where it claims that she was sent to be used by Dick Cheney at a ranch run by the secret govt in the Mt Shasta area, which of course is supplied mainly by helicopters (one might assume black helicopters!). According to Cathy, it turned out that Cheney was less interested in sex than in "hunting" her - turning her out naked into the cold weather and telling her to run for her life. If she found the one opening in the fence she would be allowed to live
Here's a lengthy excerpt from the book concerning Mt Shasta. Remember this took place after the Bush 1 presidency, but BEFORE Bush2:
At the Grand Canyon, Houston traumatized Kelly and me in preparation for.
the upcoming events in California. While hiking down the canyon, Houston
attempted to anchor hypnotically all of the trip’s events behind the death and
insanity programming to which he was subjecting us. When we stopped for a
late afternoon lunch in the Canyon, Kelly collapsed in a state of shock, unable
to eat. Houston was pleased because he “got to eat it all himself”. I was, as
usual, undergoing the food and water deprivation. I was so thirsty, I could not
think to eat. Kelly’s condition magnified my own terrified state, and I did all I
could to keep Houston from supposedly pushing her over the edge. I carried
her for hours all the way out of the canyon, without pausing to rest. In my own
mind I wanted to believe I was actually able to protect her. The fact was,
Houston was wearing me down physically to ensure that I could not protect her
at our next destination: Lake/Mount Shasta, California.
George Bush was highly active in both the Lampe, Missouri and Shasta,
California retreat compounds. Just like Lampe, Shasta’s cover was country
music. According to everyone 1 knew, singer and songwriter Merle Haggard
supposedly ran the show at Lake Shasta, diverting any and all attention from the
nearby Mount Shasta compound. Shasta was the largest, covert mind-control
slave camp of which I am aware. Hidden in the wooded hills, military fencing
corrals an enormous fleet of unmarked, black helicopters and more mindcontrolled,
military robots than I saw in all of Haiti. This covert military
operation served its own agenda, not America’s. I was told and overheard that
it was a base for the future Multi-Jurisdictional Police Force; for enforcing
order and law in the New World Order. In the center of the high security
compound, was another well-guarded military-fenced area that was regarded as
a “Camp David” of sorts for those running our country. George Bush and Dick
Cheney shared an office there, and claimed the outer perimeter woods as their
own hunting ground where they played “A Most Dangerous Game”. Predicated
on conversations I overheard between the two, it was this world police military
background that earned Dick Cheney his cabinet appointment as Secretary of
Defense1 with the Bush Administration.
Houston stayed at Haggard’s Lake Shasta resort while Kelly and 1 were
helicoptered to Mount Shasta for our scheduled meeting with Bush and Cheney.
The helicopter pilot directed our attention to the military fencing surrounding
the outer perimeter of the compound. Rarely did pilots ever speak to either of
us, but this one smiled wickedly as he told us we would need to know the outer
limits for A Most Dangerous Game.
As soon as we arrived at Bush and Cheney’s inner sanctum, I noticed
George Bush, Jr. was with them. It was my experience that Jr. stood by his
father and covered his backside whenever Bush would become incapacitated
from drugs or required criminal backup. It appeared that Jr. was there to serve
both purposes while his father and Cheney enjoyed their work-vacation.
Hyper from drugs, Cheney and Bush were eager to hunt their human prey in
“A Most Dangerous Game”. They greeted me with the rules of the game,
ordered me to strip naked despite the cold December winds, and told me in Oz
cryptic to “beware of the lions and tigers and bears”. Kelly’s life became the
stakes, as usual, which resurrected my natural and exaggerated programmed
maternal instincts. Tears silently ran down my cheeks as Bush told me, “If we
catch you, Kelly’s mine. So run, run as fast as you can. I’ll get you and your
little girl, too, because I can, I can, I can. And I will.”
Cheney, daring me to respond, asked, “Any questions?”
I said, “There’s no place to run because there’s a fence—the kind I can’t get
over. I saw it”
Rather than physically assault me. Cheney laughed at my sense of “no where
to run, no where to hide and explained that a bear had torn a hole in the fence
somewhere, and all I had to do is find it. He lowered his rifle to my head and
said, “Let the games begin. Go.”
Wearing only my tennis shoes, I ran through the trees as fast and as far as I
could, which wasn’t very far at all. Bush was using his bird dog to track me,
the same one that had recently been used with me in bestiality filming as a
“Byrd-dog” joke on my owner, Robert C. Byrd. When caught, Cheney held his
gun to my head again as he stood over me, looking warm in his sheepskin coat.
Bush ordered me to take his dog sexually while they watched, then he and
Cheney ushered me back to their cabin.
I pulled on my clothes and sat in the office part of the cabin awaiting
instructions. I had no idea where Kelly was, nor do I in retrospect. Bush and
Cheney were still in their hunting clothes when the programming session began.
Bush said, “You and I are about to embark on A Most Dangerous Game of
diplomatic relations. This is my game. You will follow my rules. 1 will have
the distinct advantage of hunting you with my Eye in the Sky (satellite). I’ll
watch every move you make. As long as you play the game by my rules and
make no mistakes, you live. One mistake and I’ll get you, my pretty, and your
little girl, too. You die, and Kelly will have to play with me. I prefer it that
way. Then it will be her Most Dangerous Game. The cards are stacked in my
favor because, well, it is my game! Are you game?”
There was no choice. I responded as conditioned, “Yes, Sir! I’m game.”
The parallels to The Most Dangerous Game that had just occurred in the woods
were deliberate and intended to make retrieval of memory “impossible” due to
“Good. Then let the games begin. Listen carefully to your instructions.
You have no room for error.” Cheney flipped his “game timer”—an hourglass.
Bush continued, “This game is called the King and Eye, and here’s the deal.
You will be establishing stronger diplomatic relations according to order
between Mexico, the U.S., and the Middle East. Your role will require a
change of face at each new place. I’ll chart your course, define your role, and
pull your strings. You’ll speak my words when I pull your strings. There is no
room for error,”
Cheney was half lying across the plain, military issue style desk in an
apparent drug stupor as Bush talked. Still wearing his hunting coat and hat,
Cheney aimed his rifle at me from the desk and threatened, “Or a-hunting we
will go.” Bush finished Cheney’s threat by singing, “We’ll catch a fox and put
her in a box and lower her in a hole.”
Bush looked at Cheney and burst out laughing. The sight of him dressed in
his hunting clothes with a huge bore, double-barreled shotgun to his shoulder
inspired Bush to tell him he “looked tike Elmer Fudd”.
Cheney, imitating the cartoon character, said, “Where is that waskily
Operation The King and Eye would involve Reagan’s #1 envoy Philip Habib
(who cryptically played the Alice In Wonderland role of the White Rabbit with
slaves such as myself) and Saudi Arabian King Fahd. So when Bush referred
to the two as “Elmer Fahd and the Waskily Wabbit,” he and Cheney laughed
until they cried. Since both were already high from drugs anyway, they had a
great deal of difficulty maintaining composure long enough to complete my
1Dick Cheney has no official U.S. military history to justify his position as our nation’s
former Defense Secretary under President George Bush.
It was late evening when Bush and Cheney finished programming me with
numerous messages pertaining to the immediate opening of the Juarez, Mexican
border to free (drug and slave) trade. ......... continued at http://itshellwithoutjesus.wordpress.com/2010/10/01/trance-formation-of-america/