I was shocked to wake up and discover the New York Times had reviewed the release of a extremely low-budget and obscure 9/11 conspiracy film called Unthinkable, closely based on the life and death of Philip Marshall, who was found dead along with his two teenage children, all three with a single bullet to the head.
Marshall had briefly worked in New Orleans with Barry Seal many decades ago, and Barry was one of the most famous spooks of his time, and a man hung out to dry by the CIA after he stopped playing ball and threatened to go rouge. Marshall wrote a book about Barry, then published a book on 9/11. He was continuing to investigate that incident when he abruptly turned up dead. Since Marshall was a pilot, it was easy for him to gather evidence that conflicted with the official story because some of the planes that day were doing maneuvers captured by radar that defied the abilities of the most accomplished pilots, much less anyone with only a few hours of training. Many months after Marshall’s death, I finally got around to ordering a copy of his 9/11 book, The Big Bamboozle, which never made a splash in the press or earned much money. The book had some useful information, but did not break new ground or contain any smoking guns. Obviously, we’ll never know what really happened on 9/11 until the obvious trails into Saudi Arabia and Pakistan are fully investigated, something Congress refused to do, but my initial suspicion was Marshall may have been whacked.
Wayne Madsen flew out to California to investigate this incident and decided it was murder, not suicide as claimed by the local police. Unthinkable is told from Maden’s point-of-view and seems to rely exclusively on his evidence.
So why is the New York Times even the slightest bit interested in this film anyway? Please note Madsen is a frequent guest on the Alex Jones, and Jones is an obvious demagogue spreading paranoia.
The good thing about all this is it basically confirms my suspicion Madsen is still a spook. Of course, he makes no secret of his past work for the NSA, or career in the Navy, the most sinister of all the divisions of the military it seems, or at least the one with the longest documented involvement with organized crime, since it was Naval intelligence that made the deal with Lucky Luciano and later tried to buy off Jim Garrison’s investigation of JFK’s assassination.
I don’t trust whistleblowers on sight because most are manufactured and controlled in some way. Real whistleblowers get whacked, while fakes end up on the cover of Time magazine. This is nothing new and things have been handled in this way for a long time, which is why I call it “a wilderness of mirrors.” But if you want to add another layer of complexity to this situation, paint legitimate suicides as NSA hits. The same thing was basically attempted after Gary Webb committed suicide. Gary had already lost his job, his house, his family. His last possession, his motorcycle, was stolen right before he killed himself. Daniel Hopsicker wrote a great blog on Marshall’s death and does not trust Madsen any more than I do.
So I’ve decided Philip Marshall was bipolar, about to divorce, and in a delusional breakdown when he shot his sleeping kids in the head and turned his gun on himself. The major objections to this were no one in the neighborhood heard any shots that night, but, in fact, the police did test the weapon inside the house and discovered it did not make sufficient noise to alarm anyone in the adjacent homes.
Consequently, you might take this film with a grain of salt, or anything else that stems from the research of Wayne Madsen.
Here’s the trailer:
Petroleum-based candles with lead-tainted wicks could be the most toxic product in your home, yet few seem aware of the dangers. Petroleum wax emits dangerous petrochemicals when burning, and their wicks often contain a small strand of wire to keep the wick straight, and these tiny wires sometimes give off lead. You can identify these because they produce black soot that will line the rim of a pillar.
Since candles play a major role in many ceremonies, it’s inexplicable why so little attention has gone to making them safe for humans. I did ceremonies with candles for around 20 years before I figured out most of them were poison.
My solution was to start making my own candles using the highest-quality sox wax and cotton wicks. I call them medicine candles today, although they have picked up other names including, magic chakra candles and rainbow menorah. The idea popped into my head exactly one year ago and I ended up producing many sets in time for a global 420 ceremony for world peace, a ritual I practice whenever possible, but especially on April 20th at 4:20 PM.
I use seven candles in this ceremony, and all have a different spiritual sigil to represent the unification of all religion. I truly believe these can help focus telepathic energy and also be deployed to help deprogram some of the mind control used to convince people to fight over religion. This hoodwink only exists because war is the greatest generator of profits known to mankind, while, on the other hand, peace typically makes no profits.
My candles are used exclusively by the Pot Illuminati, that elite secret society that performs rituals on major astrological events. The Grand Lodge was established in New York City on the Spring Equinox and also in Amsterdam around the same time. A Lodge will be opening soon in San Diego. If you want to learn more about the organization, you’ll find a manifesto online.
Meanwhile, if you’d just like the join the ceremony and light seven candles for peace in a few weeks on April 20th, I encourage you to make your own. Or order a set from me here:
My latest news story on Abakus….
Originally posted on Abakus:
But the oldest tradition in this vein actually stems from a tech college located in Ames, Iowa, a town of 60,000 that is also on many top-ten best-places-to-live-in-America lists. Iowa State’s VEISHEA, a student-run organization, has coordinated the ceremonies since 1922. The name is an anagram for the school’s original colleges. The “V,” for example, stands for “Veterinary Medicine.”
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But now he’s saying the Waldos didn’t create the ceremony on April 20th? According to him, that was first done many years later by other kids in Marin County, who remain nameless in his extremely limited history of the event.
Funny because Bloom was there at a seminal moment in 420 history, one he has never written about. When he handed me that crude flyer for a 420 ceremony at the top of Mt. Tam, obviously done by some high school kid, I’d just spent all day reading the Rig Veda and realized cannabis was Soma, the central sacrament of the ancient world. When I saw the flyer for the ceremony on Mt. Tam, it was one of the greatest satori moments of my life. You see, I knew Mt. Tam is Mt. Fuji for the Bay Area counterculture of the 1960s. For me, this had to be a sacred message, calling me back to my counterculture roots. And from that day on, I held a daily 420 ceremony in my office or wherever I was, and pursued 420 with a religious fervor that I’m sure Bloom and others found laughable, but for me, it was a way to respect the history of cannabis and spirituality. No one I knew had any concept of 420 at all, not even the most devoted Deadheads like Chef RA and Jack Herer, because they didn’t go to San Rafael High in Marin.
But that flyer handed out at that Dead show in Oakland Bloom found so funny also killed the ceremony at Mt. Tam, which was only three years old. I know because I’ve talked about this with Johnny Fullbuckmoon, son of John Griggs, the real hippie avatar of the 1960s. Johnny was involved with those ceremonies, and that flyer brought the heat down on their event, and park rangers and police conspired to shut it down from that day forth until last year when John revived it.
For many years after that, the only 420 ceremonies going on (outside Marin) were at the Freedom Fighter campground and rallies, the WHEE festivals, and the Cannabis Cups in Amsterdam. At the time, the Freedom Fighters were the largest and fastest growing legalization group with nearly 10,000 members. The Freedom Fighter of the Year was selected by open council at 4:20 PM in Ann Arbor every April (not on 420, but after the annual Hash Bash). The WHEE festival was the largest hempfest of its time, by the way, and drew 300 vendors and over 15,000 attendees. The first WHEE 420 shows featured Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters. I don’t need to tell you about the global impact of the Cannabis Cup, since everyone concedes that’s where all the emerging technologies around cannabis emerged.
Within a few years, 420 was known globally, but only by the marijuana community. Then rallies began to appear on April 20th at 4:20 PM.
The Waldos did many ceremonies on April 20th at 4:20 in the 1970s, although they never attended one at the top of Mt. Tam in the late 1980s. They are the creators of 420 as a code for marijuana, but they are also the creators of the April 20th, 4:20 ceremony. The use of the 420 code was carried by the Grateful Dead vendors, who noticed anything with 420 was popular in Marin County, their winter home, but I doubt any of those items sold outside of Marin initially.
This is a public service notice in the history of providing an accurate account of the true history of 420, something currently clouded with muck.
The Cancer Complex is a scam being worked as a profit center so please don’t donate a penny to any cancer charity this month (April is oral cancer month). It will only go to support overhead and buy tv ads, and support the current industries that build patented treatments sometimes worse than the disease.
Many over the decades have sought to treat cancer with natural plants and nutrition, and although their success rates were worthy of notice, most had their careers destroyed and research marginalized.
Mother Nature makes her own medicine factories, and these are plants rich in terpenoids. Control of these plants has always been essential to dominating the world’s economies. Terpenes are hydrocarbons, which is why when oil was discovered, it was initially bottled and sold as medicine.
Think about it: the reason they call it “New York City Diesel” is because petrochemicals and terpenes are brothers in chemistry. The word stems from the word “turpentine.” But the Oil Cartel ate the world and managed to push plant terpenes out of the picture, replacing most of them with synthetic poison.
The incredible part of this story is the status of cannabis as a terpenoid producer is unrivaled in all the plant kingdom. Some plants may manufacture a few, but cannabis makes as many as 200, most of which remain unidentified. Someday the extraction of cannabis terpenoids is going to be a huge industry.
Meanwhile, if you have cancer, see an oncologist and get yourself tested before you make any decisions, but I’d be eating 60 grams of organic cannabis oil as fast as I could. And since that treatment has been known for a decade now, why don’t I see anyone talking about it on tv or in the major media?
Meanwhile, if you want to donate to a charity doing cancer research, consider Phoenix Tears.
Thousands of years ago, great fire temples dotted the hillsides from India to Iraq, all serving a sacred plant mixed with milk and spices as a sacrament and healing medicine. Isn’t it wonderful they handed down a ritual to us used to aid in the healing process?
Someday modern medicine will wise up to the spiritual aspects of healing, and, in fact, that day seems closer all the time. The reason I know our medical establishment needs a huge overhaul is because of the tremendous resistance to using natural cannabis as medicine, while putting the entire country on synthetic drugs, mostly so corporations could make more profits.
Many years ago, a learned scholar from the East informed me there were actually three sounds in an OM. When he told me that, some of my training in theater popped in my head. I’d taken a course to enhance my speaking abilities, and learned something about the mechanics of speech. The OM may be the only healing ritual that works every time, while carrying zero dogma. It’s only role is telepathic harmonization on a vibration of peace. Allen Ginsberg once used it to protect himself and others during a police riot, and Wavy Gravy used it to drive Charlie Manson from his realm.
The OM starts deep in the belly, in your center of energy, and travels through your chest until it resonates your skull structures. The “mmmm” is held out because it’s ringing your bell. You mostly feel this Y-buzz around your nose. If you’re not vibrating your face at the end, the OM doesn’t work properly, so find that frequency, and once you do, you will feel it instantly.
The beauty of the OM is no one is ever off-tune. There are no bad notes. You may understand the connection between music, math and spirituality, but have you ever known a hymn with no bad notes? Before cannabis spirituality fell under intense persecution, there were probably hundreds of thousands of people in and around those giant fire temples doing OM circles and sharing healing energy. And isn’t it amazing they found a way to pass this ceremony down to us 10,000 years later, even if all the books and texts were tampered with to eradicate the identity of the healing plants they once used to cure almost everything.
Funny how many seem antagonistic to ceremonies. Just mention the word and a shiver goes up their back. They don’t realize ceremonies are a part of their life. Magic and spirituality move through us all naturally, and it doesn’t matter what names you put on anything, everything that ever happened keeps happening over and over.
Ceremonies have purposes, as well as flavors, and you can surf any vibration you want. Most family/tribal ceremonies unify the family/tribe and raise spirits. In order to unify, everyone needs to meditate on a single vibration for some brief instant. In a healthy family, the vibration being channeled is most often love.
Ever notice how the words “I love you” are magic? And how difficult to say sometimes. Sharing love energy is a ceremony. But then sharing anything is a ceremony.
Did you know there’s a love ceremony handed down for over 10,000 years intact, one that carries zero dogma and seeks only to harmonize participants? To outsiders, it may seem strange and can be mistaken for some cult brainwashing tool, but I guarantee this ancient ceremony works as well as any I’ve ever run across.
When your fight/flight response is activated, your emergency energy system turns on, and that jolt of energy has a tendency to overwhelm your brain, resulting in unproductive panic behavior. In that state you can easily freeze, or make the worst decision possible. Mental states are telepathic and create energy waves that can be felt and amplified, which is why panic spreads through a crowd fast as wind-whipped fire.
Fear is the basis of all mind control, and when a sorcerer wants to cast a spell, creating a panic and guiding that vibration wherever he wants is the primary device at his disposal. A scapegoat will be manufactured, tortured in public and then executed, followed by free grog for all. This is the way dark magic has worked for millennium.
Modern media has put most of the population on the edge of fight/flight mode through extreme levels of violence programming. And you won’t find much solace from this vibration in the conspiracy community, where fear levels are tweaked even higher.
Ten thousand years ago, the use of a certain sacramental plant spread like a wild-fire across most of the globe, from Europe to India to China. Enormous temples were built in the honor of this plant. But they weren’t just temples, they were the greatest hospitals and healing centers of their time. The plant was mixed with hot milk and spices and served to treat all afflictions, and became known as the king of healing plants, creator of magic and immortality, the tree of life.
It was the birth of a great age of enlightenment and coincided with the creation of most of our great religions. At the time this plant arrived, all things had long been considered to have spirit energies, and temples were built to countless gods and goddesses, but the message this plant conveyed concerned a Great Spirit that connected All Things.
But some dark sorcerer made the plant that caused the awakening a scapegoat. It was a clever campaign, executed in stages over a great expanse of time. The plant’s ceremonial powers virtually disappeared for 2,000 years, while the spiritual cultures it birthed were corrupted: false priests installed, new dogmas created. All trace of the plant was removed from all texts, a ploy not entirely successful, so deep was this plant woven into the fabric of these cultures.
In the 1880s, the plant’s magic ceremonial powers were rediscovered in New Orleans by African slaves owned by French planters who’d recently escaped the Haitian Revolution. These slaves invited Natives and others to join their ceremonies and soon created the most influential cultural movement of any time. However, no sooner did this movement appear, than governments moved to squash it, using persecution of the plant as the hammer to achieve their goal.
In the 1960s, surfers in California discovered the plant, and it led them on a sacred journey back to the plant’s original origins. When they returned from Afghanistan, they brought the ancient ceremony used at those original healing temples that once dotted the landscape from India to Iran. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, that ceremony is called The OM Circle. It is also the best method for dispelling panic and turning off fight/flight mode. And thus I believe it can also be an important tool to help deprogram the mind control memes being run today. It can also be an great tool to heal PTSD, which can create a near-constant fight/flight mode.
So when people ask me to prescribe 420 ceremonies, I must confess the OM is the greatest harmonization ritual I know, and I think it works through a triangulation of touch, sound and telepathy.
Last year, there was a shooting at the 420 event in Denver. I hope participants shift their mindset from celebrating cannabis, to celebrating peace and the coming end to the drug war. Someday I hope all plants are free.
But wouldn’t it be a wonderful thing to see a hundred thousand voices erupt in an OM in Denver some day?