Don’t you hate it when a writer keeps putting themselves in their own stories? They make themselves all powerful, all knowing, all seeing, suave cool-guy James Bond types. I’m looking at you Ian Fleming. Except Ian Fleming actually was a spy, and actually did know more than a little about the things he wrote about. I, too, know more than a little about the things I will write about here. I’m going to be up front with you. This is a story about me. This is a story about my life. This is a story about the world we actually live in. You don’t have to believe it, and in fact, you probably shouldn’t. You should probably close the book right now, turn off the kindle, close the browser window. You probably should, but you won’t. You won’t because curiosity is a powerful thing. You need to hear what I am going to tell you. This is a process that has been long in the making since the foundations of the Earth itself.
Meet Jack. Jack is me, or some pseudo-me that I have created in order to tell this modern fairytale to you. Jack Rosenkreutz was a blessed son to a loving mother and a powerfully imposing father. Jack’s father Carl worked in Special Access Programs for the American Government. He was a brilliant aeronautical engineer with Lockheed-Martin. He worked on reconnaisance satellites for the NRO, the National Reconnaisance Office, one of the least well known of the secret intelligence agencies of the US Government. Jack remembers his childhood fondly, despite all the memories of military intelligence men in Air Force and Naval uniforms coming on to the property in a small town in rural Nevada County, California. Despite the helicopters and the lockdown that came when daddy brought home a little too much of the truth.
“What do they want?” little Jack asked, huddled beneath the kitchen table with his mother, Dawn, and his sister Emily. The sound of the helicopters was deafening. The dogs barked helplessly, their little chests beating with anxiety.
“They’re coming to take your daddy away for a little while, Jack,” cooed Dawn in a soothing way, despite her grief-stricken appearance, “He’ll be back sometime soon. They just have to test him and find out if he’s lying about…anything.”
“Are they going to hurt him?” asked little Emily.
“No one is going to hurt your Dad. He just has to go away for a little while.”
“But why?”
“DON’T ASK ME! I’m the last one to know, god forbid his wife should have any part in his decisions. It’s all TOP SECRET! It’s bullshit.”
Jack and Emily looked at eachother, shocked to hear their mother speak in such a tone. They were unused to violent outbursts. For the most part, their home life was quiet and well-maintained. They lived a quiet life in a rural community. Jack and Emily went to school every day, waiting for the bus by the big naval anchor at the end of the street. It was a normal childhood, except when it was not.
Jack believed in Aliens. Jack believed in Ghosts. Jack believed in Gnomes and Faeries. In the forest, he would see the old trolls stumbling through the green mountain misery that grew all over the hillside. The moss on the trees was transformed from greenery to a kind of living fairy dust. Jack’s head became heavy and thick with the pollen and pheremones of the trees. Fairies would dance across the walls, through the dust in the sun beams. Gnomes would steal kitchen utensils and return them the next day on the doorstep with hastily scribbled apologies. These things were all real, at least in Jack’s mind, and the mind is a powerful thing.
Jack became known for his sensational storytelling. His family would sit around the old wood stove and laugh as he regaled them with tales of fairies and goblins and ghosts, kings and kingdoms long past. Jack’s imagination was a powerful thing, capable of conjuring many mysteries in to existence at any time. He loved to roam and play in the lands of his imagination. He would build his Lego kingdoms and cardboard thrones. He would make himself emperor of humanity, a benevolent dictator who would be kind and generous and would care for the poor and weak. He would feed the hungry and clothe the naked. He would heal all wounds of the past wars of human strife and suffering.
Jack became a monarch in his own mind. An emperor destined to rule, like Marcus Aurelius whose Meditations he read at night before going to sleep. A gift from his loving grandfather. It would shock you to know how young this man Jack was at this time. He was hardly out of kindergarten. Yet he was unique, deep down, because he learned a powerful lesson early in his life: you can learn from the mistakes of others, before you make them yourself.
Carl and Dawn would fight sometimes. They would yell and scream and turn red and blue. Carl would threaten to kill himself, and Dawn would tell him to just do it already. Then they would tumble down together in to the bedsheets in a throbbing mass of emotional outpouring, thrusting and seeking and guiding and reaching for the answers in the physical that could not be found in argument. This particular time the argument had been regarding a young girl that Carl had been seeing on the side. She was youthful and gorgeous and desperate for the attention of an older man. Carl was a lonely man, because of his work. He found in young Lilith solace.
Yes, Carl had his family. He had Dawn, Emily, and Jack. He had his house and his dogs and cats. He even had a huge radio tower behind his home so he could talk to people on ham radio. Another cure for loneliness. Why was Carl so lonely, with all of this, you might ask yourselves. It is because Carl knew a great secret. This secret would change human society in a profound way that no one could have foreseen. This was the secret of the hidden identity of mankind, and our place in the Cosmos. This was a secret kept expressly by the power of the Galactic Convention of Earth in 1956.
It’s a hard thing to have to tell you this, but your life is a lie. Your world is a lie. Your civilization is a lie. It is a fabrication of the Powers That Be so that you would not revolt, so that you would not destroy yourselves. Upon the detonation of the atom bomb at the end of World War II, a great signal was sent off through the Cosmos. Humanity is trying to kill itself! Intervention was deemed necessary, and even brutal force would be used if necessary to keep humanity from destroying our garden world and ourselves. Luckily, we didn’t require the brutality.
Humans are easy to please. Give them rich food, heady drink, and powerful orgasms, and they will be your friend forever. The extraterrestrials knew this, and so we see the blossoming of our media in the latter half of the 20th century on in to the 21st. Internet pornography is a control mechanism. Netflix, Hulu, amazon prime. They’re all control mechanisms. They control you, the consumer, so that you are productive and happy and harmless. This is so we can keep our eyes on the hand the magician wants us to see, while his other hand works around the back, and you get:
Flowers. Flowers for everyone! Flowers for the universe. Let all the universe be filled with the gems and jewels and treasures of all the 10,000 chiliocosms. The Wheel of Dharma turns, and humanity occupies but a small place upon its faces. We are not a civilization grown from the ground up by random evolutionary chance, but one created and implanted on the ovum of the Earth by powers far greater than ourselves. The civilizations that put us here have been around for billions of years. Billions. Imagine that. They are so far in advance of us, spiritually, technologically, culturally, that we can’t even imagine. Yet, they lift us up. Why?
Procreation. We are their offspring. We are the Children of God. Who is God? God is the all-consciousness of that great galactic empire that spawned us. There sits an emperor on a throne in the celestial throne room orbiting around the twin stars of Sirius, called Kolob in the Semitic tongues meaning “Dog.” Dog God get it? It’s a funny joke. God likes jokes. Anyway, from that throne He governs the universe. Sound hard to believe? Sure. You don’t need to believe it. It isn’t important whether you believe or not. What is important is that you understand that the world you live in is a construction of a higher power, that He loves us and cares for us, and that our well-being as human beings is his never-ending goal.
So you see why the atomic bomb worried them so. That’s when they took the power back. Remember the Roswell crash? 1947. Ever wonder where fiber optic technology came from? According to Carl, we have Heavenly Father to thank for the gift of the crashed saucer at Roswell. The Alien Reproduction Vehicles, made by Lockheed-Martin, the US military, and dear Carl, now comprise more than 90% of the actual shadow military complex. Guess you didn’t think we had a star fleet, did ya, kid?
Well, it gets better. Or worse. Depends how you want to see it.