Saturday, July 17, 2010


Someone asked, “If they can dive into the depths of thrashing North Atlantic and recover a flight data recorder, why have they failed to produce the ones from 9/11?”
Since the “neon-orange-red” flight data recorder is located in the tail section, built to withstand great impact and temperature, it should be recoverable.  In the case of the Pentagon, we need not look for one, but the Pennsylvania crash site should have one for us.  I believe Christopher Bollyn's journalism gleaned from the surrounding woods.  A man who lived there said that it was raining body parts.
Steel beams in the twin towers were rendered into lava by a chemical reaction.  You can see it oozing from the wounded building as people leapt to their deaths to escape the heat.  Thermite and thermate have been written as the compounds used to cut the steel girders by way of intense heat.  A blacksmith shapes white-hot metals similarly, but the heat used here was magnified many times beyond that.  
In the case of the World Trade Towers (1,2 and 7), thermate was used to melt the frames in a precise demolition.  Only Towers One and Two were hit by aircraft which had nothing to do with thermate.  
Since the clean-up crew was able to collect enough scrap metal to build a morale-boosting Navy ship (we are told), they may have been able to locate one or both of the flight data recorders.  This I say because thermate compounds were inside the girders, still chewing on steel on the way down.  Maybe the boxes survived, having been stout and heavy.  
Thermate was applied strategically for demolition purposes, the ignition of which was done in concert.  We all know what happened.  Only a knuckle-dragging, medicated churl would believe the 9/11 Commission Report.  That holds as much water as the schmutz they wrote about John Kennedy.
There is a field in Pennsylvania where they could not bury anything.  This flight data recorder has to exist.  Possibly there are people who saw what happened that were not foolhardy enough to report it.  Were “bombs bursting in air” with a "rocket’s red glare?”  
Did it give proof that our flag was involved?  What pale flag was that?  What colour is treason?  

What might we hear on that flight recorder?  What about the guys at the FAA?  The control towers?  Did somebody hear the pilots' desperate transmissions and do nothing?  Say nothing?  Report nothing?  And they hung Mary Surratt?  
What were those words?  Can you guess?  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.  All systems are on override.  I have no instrument control...”
There are words in a command language that can tell your computer “not to let you do something.”  As a programmer you can write code to disable all kinds of “functionality” for a user.  In the case of today’s commercial airliners, the user is a jet pilot.  He is flying a computer with wings and a tail.
Based on a recent experience, geeks can disable and override just about anything they want on a computer.  That is why the government’s computer security programs are frantic and front-burner.  
The time has come to pressure our government to cough up the flight data recorder for Pennsylvania 9/11.  You know they have it.  And you know that the only reason they have not released what’s on it to the public is because you will hear the truth.  There are few men staring death in the face who speak anything else.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Driveway Checkers

On the morning of 1 July 2010, I happened to be standing by my car, armed with a camera. Sure enough, right on time, here comes the daily driveway checker. A helicopter.

They have to check the driveway because my car is old enough not to have any tracking systems (GPS, OnStar, built-in-the-dash cell phone, etc.). If my car is in the driveway, there is a good chance that I am in the house. They know that I suffer an aversion to bugged vehicles (shark-finned, satellite-monitored, cell tower-triangulated, microphones in the rear-view mirror or BMW's "super-tech" on the steering column -- 007 big time, chalk up another one for German engineering, you get the idea..., etc.).

I think that Sprint Network has informed them how I seldom turn on my ancient cell phone. Today's cell phones are hand-held computers. They inform on you constantly. Like a pocket-spy. All of your text and voice messages are recorded by the network. The GPS provision tracks your every move. The days have arrived where sneaking around behind your wife's back is not something you want to arrange on your cell phone. For virtuous people, this is a boon. The rest of you playaaz can wing it. But if you ever run for public office, you'll be their ideal candidate.

The local police rookies that they have previously assigned to stake-out posts at the entrance/exit to my neighborhood, suffer from telephoto burns. I have close-ups of those guys that my photography professor would be proud of. So that arrangement didn't "fly" very long.

Based on the questions from their investigator, they are concerned about other people with whom I may consort. What concerns them are communications that are not digital, traceable, trackable, recordable or bug-able. Other cars in the driveway would therefore be of interest to them.

They never know where I will go, when or why. My travels and activities concern them. So they have me followed if I go somewhere. And nervously check my driveway every few hours if I don't.

The stage was set for this while my spouse was in Iraq. A federal investigator tried twice to enter my house for a chat. He left his calling card wedged in the door. I called back and opted to answer his questions over the phone. If I don't let Mormon missionaries into the house, why would I let him? Good rule of thumb. So he asked me what mode of communication my spouse and I employed and how often we used it per a given span of time. He asked if I belonged to any social clubs or a church. He wanted to know what my hobbies were.

I mentioned in past entries how if I felt annoyed enough I would start publishing my photographs of these jokers. Here's a Cessna registered to the Department of Justice. Click on the photo. Check the N-Number on: You remember them? They honcho'ed the gassing and burning of all those babies at Waco. Great bunch of folks. Janet Reno lives down here somewhere now in retirement. I should look her up and ask for an interview. I would love to hear her justification for the "justice" served that day. Can't have a loose cannon preaching the Gospel now can we.

On this day, however, (1 July 2010) I noticed how the chopper pilot apparently saw my long lens and fled. Because he burst into speed, arcing counter-clockwise. I panned and the camera nailed him. You gotta love a Nikon. Mr. whirly-bird earned himself top spot. (see first photo above)

But he's in good company. Here you go. Have a look at some of his peerage. This is a chopper registered to the Department of Homeland Security (the American Cheka). They have a little hornet's nest near Homestead Air Force Base and fly up to check on me often. You can see the N-Number without even clicking on the photo. And the little DHS spy in the window?

The government, it appears, has even stricken deals with my neighbors to keep them informed of my travels, routines and activities. Most people have their price. Especially these days. You should see my photo collection of locals and neighbors who follow me around in their cars. Even a mail man. Too bad they didn't learn to drive on mountain roads. They are no match for my pursuit when I decide to chase them with my camera. I have photos of all their license plates. And many of their faces. In a word: busted. I'll publish those later if I get annoyed enough. Stand by...

Surveillance gnats on parade. Here is Monroe County's Jailer on the wing. They have a big prison out on Key West where they stash people. I looked at the rap sheets and was astounded to learn over what trivial charges some of them are rotting in jail. Minor infractions, some of them. Here they are in a windowless dungeon, surrounded by "lifestyles of the rich and famous." Yup. I even get driveway checkers from Key West Sheriff's Office. Note the N-Number near the tail. Click on photo for enlargement.

One day they even sent this thing over. What the heck is it? Only PAXNAVAIR knows for sure. And they ain't talkin'. It has a shark look about it. Referring back to what I said about marine predator design.

Note the snazzy paint on this little prop-job. One day I drove all the way to the Gulf Coast, got out in a hotel parking lot and looked up to a familiar noise. Dam if it wasn't the same plane or his identical twin. I didn't get the N-Number so I can't prove it. But the paint-scheme is flashy and easy to remember. Most of these boring little planes are just white.

I thought I'd do some fact-checking. So I called the chopper dispatch office to where Mr. Top Spot's registration number led me. Her name is Ann-Marie and their office is way up in West Palm Beach. The South Florida Water Management District has every reason to need aircraft. A given. But what was this guy doing flying around my house?

His timing was noteworthy. There was a sinister-looking little aerosol jet going at it hot and heavy over our house at the time. I have taken pictures of him before, spraying his long stream of discharge.

He had the tell-tale white coat. That is so they can hide in the sky. A similar effect is demonstrated on the ventral side of hawks and ospreys. Note the same colour scheme on sharks and other marine predators.

White works equally well at night to blend an owl into the sky, for example, from the perspective of prey on the ground. The same principle applies to a white jet, muted, flying the night spray shift. In previous posts, it is why I called them Boeing night owls.

You will note a tactical kinship between apex predators and war planes. Such aircraft are an expression of Abaddon's perversion. Birds of prey hunt to feed. Fighter planes do not have an ecological niche. They are from hell. Grumman F6F.

This aircraft was the size of a tactical NBCRE-delivery jet. Small. Fast. Swept-wing. They got nervous about him when I called Patuxent River Naval Air Station (Naval Air Systems Command). Not a word. They stay nervous over there these days. That's where the test pilots are who fly the latest war birds. The ones that matter.

* note: NBCRE has been removed from Google's search engine. Web sites that discuss the term have been changed to Oriental-looking fonts that serve as encryption. They don't want you to know what NBCRE means. So I will tell you. NBCRE is a military acronym for "nuclear, biological, chemical, radiological and explosive."

Since he is so small, this jet does not serve for what they spray around here. Last year they dehydrated the monsoon both here and in India. Big tankers. Big job. Maybe he is flying drills for future operations.

I say NBCRE because that's what I would use him for if I was planning the damage. He can easily catapult from carriers. Be somewhere fast and spray nerve gas, blood agents, poison flue dust or a wide variety of disease mists. He could also drop bombs that burst in the air and scatter depleted uranium powder/dust (what "" calls a dirty bomb).

One of these little jets can rain hell from the sky. From his air-shows around here, I have seen demonstrations of his capabilities. He could hit and run before anybody knew what hit them.

Seeing as how they are trying to frame Pakistan for "acts of terrorism," a jet like this could dump his payload anywhere and have it pass for exactly that. Our lying media would scream Pakistan or some other Muslim country in Israel's cross-hairs. Just like they did with 9/11. Then of course the predictable reaction would be more American outrage and anger which only serves to fan the flames of "wars and rumours of wars."

Their express aim in the blame-game. Like their botched attempt to sink the USS LIBERTY in 1967 and blame it on Egypt. Same tack. Same m.o. False flag, America. Wake the flock up.

As for misty pathogens, the parade of CDC's petri dishes is a long one indeed. And you thought they were just about disease control and prevention? Based on my studies of their organisational charts, web sites and manuals -- they also have a dark side. They have apparently absorbed the biological warfare department. The CDC is where those dirty dogs are hiding out. Fort Detrick has earned a stigma, so they had to move their goodies elsewhere. They ought to rename the joint to "Center for Disease Cultivation."

Note: according to military training manuals for corpsmen and medics, 100% of biological warfare is ideally "delivered" via aerosols and kills in six days or less. As a side-note, they wrote, "Biological warfare agents have been delivered by covert injection." (Chapter 1, Section 1-2, Subparagraph e., Treatment of Biological Warfare Agent Casualties Field Manual, Army/Navy/Air Force/Marines, published 17 July 2000). This thing reads like a veritable "how-to." They go into great detail of exactly how this kind of dirt is done.

In a nutshell, the government is nervous. And more nervous still are their wire-pullers. They are frantically trying to bribe their way into a position of control over an angering multitude. One that out-numbers them by the staggering millions. Put yourself in their place. What would you do?

There seems to be a need for disease. And this little jet is just the delivery tool. Let's call it a potential weapon of mass destruction. And your tax dollars at work -- for now. I just read in the news about plans to dip deeper into your retirement savings to fund their war machine. Much like what happened in the past when economies did what ours is doing now (1920's and 1930's).

I noticed how last year what appeared to be cloud dehydration over Pakistan. Since the Nasty Nexus works as a team, this would have served to help India in her campaign to dam-up rivers and withhold water from Pakistan. Part of our government's "disrupt and dismantle" campaign is to wreak all manner of havoc in Pakistan via every dirty trick in their bag (drone bombings, so-called terrorism, power cuts, economic sabotage, withholding water, convenient droughts... then massive flooding during the rainy season. Magnified of course by India opening the "flood" gates to all their dams in Kashmir--strategically built for that purpose). The war colleges have published mega-load white papers on the subject. I of course have read them. And know how they work it. From the "global" news, they appear to be working it now.

I knew they were nervous about this little jet, because they had a P3 Orion making the rounds at the same time. P3 got binked again. Smile for the camera. They sure have us on 24/7 web cam these days. The only place they don't have cameras rolling is during preacher killings, nursing home massacres and Muslim prison torture. How convenient.

The water management district's Anne-Marie firmly told me that all her pilots were accounted for that day and none of them had been in the area that I described. She explained that they all had GPS trackers on them and she could see them on her screen.

Surely the FAA would not post a bogus record. Would they?

When I asked Ann-Marie if some of her choppers were out on loan she firmly told me no. Oh for the unsolved mysteries. How deep and still is the water, Mr. Water Management District? Is it as deep as the records at the FAA? They were nervous enough about them to remove their N-Number Look-Up page for a while and then nervous enough to put it back on their web site. Can we call that waffling?

I know the flying schedule of the aerosol tankers and their surveillance teams. And ask questions like: Why would they need/want surveillance teams? Surveillance for what? Against whom? Why are they concerned about who sees them doing what they do?

This chopper was right on time for the usual daily surveillance fly-by's and buzz-jobs. That's only from my end. What Ann-Marie said supports my thoughts, however. Ones that are swayed by things that have happened in the past. Like the Department of Homeland Security's U.S. Coast Guard chopper spot-lighting our bedroom windows and checking the driveway at two in the morning. Positive I.D. on that one. I was wide awake under a tree in the back yard -- waiting for him. It's not like you couldn't hear him coming. Or see him coming, strobes illuminating danger-orange and white. Then there were the Cessna's circling our house for hours whose numbers registered to the Deptartment of Justice and Monroe County Sheriff's Office. Little things like that.

There is motive for bogus N-Numbers if you are flying DHS surveillance. Government snoop types seek to be covert. The idea is to watch people when they don't know they are being watched. No-name, no-speak, sunglasses and limo tint. A spy is secretive. He uses code words, encryption, feints, ruses and camouflage. Gives a left turn signal and then turns right.

Adding weight to my theory is that after I spoke to Ann-Marie and her media relations person, the driveway checkers went on stand-down. Haven't seen them since. What does it mean?

Note: Blogspot editing software has disabled my link-posting. So you will have to copy/paste addresses into your URL windows. URL is another acronym that means Uniform Resource Locator. More "inside-speak" from another industry who doesn't want you to know what they are talking about. Keep in mind that government and their industrial partners work very hard to make their language difficult for you to understand.

I gottum down. But they are workable. Everybody is.

Ever seen a man at the bitter end of his life? Under glaring fluorescent lights, hooked up to machines? He's in a disparaging gown tied at the back with strings. The medicals who administer to his "end of life" needs are detached, clinical, reptilian. They are a product of his design and steerage. Now he's tasting some of his own medicine. And getting the medical care that he so richly deserves.

You know this man? Among the richest in the world but nobody wants to know him now. They're afraid they might catch what he's got. This mortality for which he could purchase no cure. None of his fair-weather sycophants care to flatter him now. The food-taster has flown the coop. Digestion shut-down days ago. No more worrying about poisoned lobster bisque. No more energy to lord over a world of exploited mill horses. Now it's just you and the Great Wide Open. You ready?

There is nobody I hate. And nobody I'm giving up on. Inside every bad person there is a Scrooge on Christmas Eve. We all hit it sooner or later. Better sooner than later. And better late than never.