Seeing is Believing?

I love the Internet, you can guarantee that where ever you may search, sure enough you will discover things you never knew existed, never thought possible, and absolutely denied you even had an interest in!

Recently, with more time on my hands, I’ve been reconnecting with my beliefs on many subjects, including the UFO phenomena.I’ve been re-reading about the Betty and Barney Hill case of 1961 as previously lost interview tapes of Betty have been made available on YouTube.

I’ve taken a fresh perspective on the Travis Walton case of 1975 after seeing old footage of the lumberjack talking about the night he was abducted. Naturally, I also reviewed the Rendelsham Forest case through all sorts of nonsense espoused by the Ancient Aliens TV series.

I haven’t really changed my view on the subject, I have smoothed out the corners of my core-beliefs and can see a nice clean edge of sanity appear around the whole ‘aliens among us’ debate.

Betty changed her story as she got older and confessed that her government was still very much in contact with her ’til the day she died.



Travis has refined his experiences to an almost perfect narrative and there is no room for alternatives unless you factor in mental illness, or an illuminati connection!



The Rendlesham Forest crew on the other hand seem to have expanded their tale into some kind of ‘warning to humanity’ message from the stars about the future environmental apocalypse… I am glad I still have a copy of the original News of the World front page from 1980; perhaps it is worth something after all.



While looking at alternative views on what is really happening with ufo/alien abductions I came across something thoroughly unbelievable, completely original, and totally engrossing. On a webpage called Vision and Psychosis.Net there is an explanation of Peripheral Vision Psychosis brought on by Subliminal Distraction.

The author of the research explains with examples and quite convincing arguments that everything from the Virginia Tech Shooter, the Betty and Barney Hill case, to the KONY presidential meltdown, are results of this little recognised, and barely understood psychological/physiological phenomenon.

It is a scary thought to believe that positioning your computer at the wrong angle for example, may cause you to have a ‘psychotic breakdown’ after long periods of regular continued use… It sounds crazy, but the idea is fascinating. I have not studied psychology but I can see how someone might become interested in the subject from reading this research material.

Another revelation that I experienced came by accident when I found a comment about flying orbs seen in the night sky. They could possibly be ‘Linear Illumination Shots’ used by the military in the field to light up a target area before making a decision on what do to. They are flying orbs, similar to distress flares although these are long-life white flares, sitting in the sky, all in a row and slowly moving down to earth until they naturally disintegrate.

In a way, I am a little saddened by the fact that there could be a real practical, observable, tangible, nuts-and-bolts answer to the whole ufo and aliens question… but I am willing to continue searching for the truth, however unsatisfying or disappointing it may be, eventually time will tell.

Next stop: A fresh look at the Beast of Bodmin.

Syria before Mordor - Part 2

Khaled whips out his mobile telephone to proudly show off pictures of his children eating ice-creams, two charming little girls. His wife, he tells us with dejection, wears the Hijab because it is custom. She works as well, teaching school to boys under the age of eleven from their home in the village. He explains that women working out of doors is not allowed.

He drives us around the city, darting about through the monstrous traffic, joining in the rhythmic ebb and flow of vehicles as they amazingly avoid crashing into each other… How they do this is a mystery. We peer through the cab windows in awe as a huge Mercedes truck vies for space next to us on the bustling road while a three-wheeled- lawn-mower-engine contraption attempts to overtake. Khaled announces ‘Syrian Car’!

No one bumps or hits anyone on the road, not that you would notice. A myriad of twenty year old Mercedes dash between Toyotas and Hyundais. We spot a brand-new Land Rover at the neon traffic lights, signals that count down from thirty seconds like a digital clock. Green for Go and red for Stop, like the colours of Aleppo, largely faded by the sun. Car horns beep loudly, people are shouting, pedestrians trying to cross the street. It could be an alternative New York City, with its hundred yellow cabs and “Do you speak any English?” drivers.

The time machine had stopped for a moment as Khaled jumps out at a corner to ask a friend for directions. They say people are the same where ever you go. Perhaps this is true, if people are open, friendly, and willing to help strangers. This was, on the most part, our experience as we recalled our first impressions from earlier in the week.

We laughed about Muhammad and the cigar smoking Syrian Arab who completed our money exchange transaction by swapping Dollars for Syrian Pounds using an empty Kleenex box. We felt like millionaires for a second or two before remembering that one thousand Syrian Pounds are the equivalent of a couple of Euros. But they were more than enough to get us where we wanted to go.

Our destination was The Citadel, one of the oldest medieval fortresses in the world. We headed for the curb-side on foot, bemused we looked in all directions. Mohammad called out to us, “You can walk there, no need for a taxi”. “Really, it’s that close?” We quizzed him from across the street. He pointed east and there it was, just visible over the tower blocks. It’s outer wall towering above a grimy cityscape, a hint of majesty through the haze of the sun. It startled us from a distance, like Fire Mountain (Mount Doom) of The Lord of the Rings fame. It was our goal, our quest. We needed to get there and it didn’t seem all that far away after all.

We began our walk just as the midday sun beat down, ensuring we’d always remember the way next time we ventured east. It was thirty-six degrees in the shade, dry, and the air was filled with a pungent aroma of cinnamon and exhaust fumes. Decomposing fruit, mingled with a waft of the Hookah smoke emanating from coffee shops and doorways of dusty buildings that had seen better days.

This was the thing about Aleppo. You could literally see it, feel it, those ‘better days’. If you looked close enough, rubbed your finger into the dust, you would reveal the layers beneath, hinting at better times.

Once, all of this was new; the rust was gilded, the blues were shining copper, the intricate stone work gleaming, and the dull marble was effervescent. Now it was all covered in a fine layer of yellowish dust, an orangey tone, a hue of brown. To find the bright vibrant colour you had to look underneath, inside the ‘souk’, where artificial light and draft strips away the dirt, and the truth leaps out at you from the covered market stalls hidden beneath the grimy city streets.

An archway beckoned us to venture further inside, the mouth of an endless tunnel, where crowds of people jostled and poked, and some prodded us, as we pushed passed them. A woman mumbled, someone shouted what could have been abuse, a man spat near our feet. We were quickly signalled to turn down a different route in the souk to avoid the butcher carving up the carcass of a sheep.

It was their territory and we were doing what all Westerners have done for centuries, invading theirs. We attempted to purchase their goods and test our haggling skills, and we tried not to show disrespect for their religion, infidels that we were, clueless tourists loving every minute of our ‘adventure’. Stall holders looked at us and turned to each other laughing. What a sight we must have been.

Qatar and the Financial Wiz-Khalifas

This will probably come as no shock to anyone who has read my previous biographical anecdotes. Most of you are quite familiar with how I manage to get myself ‘stuck’ in strange situations, and generally get myself into trouble. I tend to find myself somehow involved in shady companies, with shady bosses, making shady deals, where lots of money changes hands, but I never see any of it, and then something weird happens.

Today I am free. I have broken the chains that kept me shackled to the hedge fund administrator’s desk. Finally I made the decision and absconded from the evil-doers and their financial wizardry. I have walked out from a job that was slowly and meticulously sucking the life source from my being.

No more do I have to force myself to read pseudo-philosophic ramblings of hedge fund manager from hell Ray Dalio, or succumb to a self-inflicted lobotomy reading Barbara Minto’s Pyramid Principle, (two books that were a requirement by law, and which I tried with every excuse possible to avoid reading).

No more will I have to pretend to rejoice with 'the team' when an earthquake occurs, or war breaks out somewhere in the world, or Sarkozy speaks, because it means we are making a profit! Nor do I have to work fifty plus hours a week, and weekends, with no overtime, no bonus, no respect, not even a thank you. I will no longer have to listen to daily character assassinations of myself and my colleagues either. This was my final foray into the corporate world of international finance… I’m exhausted and I’m through with those bastards.

Lies rule our lives, but only if we let them.

The fund that bought me as a slave, sorry, that I worked for, was given one hundred million dollars by Sheikh Hamad Bin-Khalifa Al Thani - a very good friend of the West. The money is his government's pension fund of the people of The State of Qatar. Apparently this is a secret. However, I was never asked to sign a secrecy order and my contract has officially been terminated.

Therefore, I guess I can talk about it now?

Yes, just look at this. Even as I write it I cannot believe I worked for yet another company, whose sole purpose was to gamble money for the unscrupulous Arabs on the international stock market. The profits of which, used to fund war, to pay for weapons, and allow American military to continue to operate their routes through the Middle East. The product being death and destruction - allegedly. Did I just say that? I mean they probably spend it on those fancy hotels that no one can afford to stay in, that have bath taps made of gold.

Yes, indirectly, I worked to further the goals of the elite. Not my goals, for I am sheeple. This entire country (Cyprus) is full of sheeple. It appears we are all working here to further this agenda. My working life, my so-called career in administration, continued to be one big lie it would seem. A sick, sad world indeed.

So now what have I done? Unemployment is at an all time high, the country may very well be dragged down the toilet along with Greece the motherland. I am officially broke, as every penny I ever made has gone to the banks. I may very well lose my home and car too.

While this carries on, I do have one personal achievement that this hypocrite can be proud of. Finally, my writers' workshop group, which I mentor for free on weekends, has published its first book of recent works, called Synthesis. We have each contributed a few pieces of writing, and will sell the book completely for charity, to buy books for a local childrens hospital.

Being able to give something back to community has been invaluable to my own self-esteem which has slowly eroded over the past few months. The constant barrage of negativity received through working for an international hedge fund with the sole purpose of furthering the cause, the NWO…. No wonder I have become ill, I almost died, again. My morals, my thoughts, my dreams, my expression, were all being gradually stripped from me as I became a ‘cog in the machine’ again. No dead babies required this time.
http://thesignificanceofr.blogspot.com/2010/09/look-whos-talking.html

Although I am quite terrified of being unemployed, it is nothing to the plight of my body and soul should I continue to accept my master’s whip. Perhaps I waited too long and allowed my health to deteriorate while I pondered my next move. Better late than never I guess.

I didn't really think about it until last week, that however many degrees of separation there are between me and the Emir of Qatar… the financial Wiz-Khalifa, I don’t need this kind of karma. I’d rather be jobless and alive, than a zombie slave of the elite.

Syria - before it became Mordor - Part 1

I have spent time in Syria and can speak from experience of the place. I’ve met people, talked with them, travelled in the city of Aleppo and to rural areas, seen the diversity of cultures and belief there. I also saw a country woefully in need of some international help for development, to reduce poverty. The previous sanctions have obviously taken their toll on the place. It needs new infrastructure, new technology, investment, and hope for the future.

As I walked around the city I heard ladies dressed in the Hijab, everything covered, hands and faces. But they spoke with perfectly formed British accents. They talked about restaurants and shoes. No sign of extremism. Taxi drivers and waiters always smiled and seemed happy to speak to me, even though the secret police followed me and my travelling companions around the city.

“It’s like getting in a time machine and travelling back thirty years!” proclaimed one member of my group, as we jostled in our taxi seats while our driver Khaled careered over another of the potholes that decorated the narrow road towards the village he was venturing to.

We had met Khaled on the morning of the first day that we arrived in the city. He was the smiling one at reception. ‘Anything you need, ask me’ he told us. We smiled back and repeated ‘thank you thank you’, like the annoying tourists that we were.

We wanted to change currency and Khaled told us that Muhammad his colleague could help us out. Muhammad led us into a tower-block on the opposite side of the street. At first the hallway, with its ivory marbled walls and stairs gave the impression of a modern shopping-mall entrance, as we turned a corner and up a couple more stairs we realised that the entrance was for ‘show’. We were headed to the 5th floor, via the backstairs, the metal-caged lift wore an ‘out of order sign’ and the walls lost their marble, being replaced by some DIY concrete and plaster patches.

We reached the upper echelons and were greeted by a burly cigar smoking Syrian Arab in sand coloured suit, with the stereotypical sweat patch camo design. We got our currency without the bank charges and were ready to spend it!

About 40m kilometres away from the historic bustling Aleppo streets, Khaled drove us along a road that tapered off into a dirt track several times before reappearing intermittently whenever a mud-brick building appeared. We were bumping around that car as if we were on a fairground ride. Fast high-pitched Arabic music played on the radio. It was our soundtrack and we loved it.

After several stops on the way to ask directions, and allow wannabe Formula 1 racing contenders in their Hyundai-Hondas to over-take us, we arrived at the nameless settlement. Fences that were obviously home-made separated the property from the dirt-track. Mud-brick cattle shed and an igloo shaped house with wooden door, a rectangular concrete bungalow complete with veranda two metres to the right of it. A little girl stood and wondered what these strangers wanted, disappearing into the building to tell her parents. Out comes grandmother, she too in wonderment at the visit of these strangers.

Khaled asked the father to show us his farm and the outhouses. He laughed at us as if to say, ‘Mad westerners, it’s just a farm like any other’. He beckoned us to follow him to the field to pick cucumbers, like we had never seen them before. It was quaint and silly, but at the same time it was wonderful to see people living with such simplicity, totally without fear of strangers.

When I watch the news stories and think back to my time in Syria I feel nothing but outrage. I don’t recognise anything I am seeing in those videos, neither the faces, nor the clothes look like the Syrians I recall. I guess it was coming, the inevitable ‘intervention’ of the Americans/UN.

But Syria is not Libya, nor is it Egypt. The so-called ‘activists’ are not home-grown at all. They are imports from the west… those snipers shooting children in the street in broad daylight? Who are these people? I am not there now so I have no idea what is really going on. But one thing is for sure, someone is lying.

Return to the Sync

I’ve always been searching for answers and alternatives to what I have in front of me. I’m perpetually unconvinced with the world, with my existence. Time and again I ask the eternal, ‘Why?’… The answer remains elusive.

Occasionally, I glimpse a fleeting transient light as it speeds across my vision, a nano-second thought, untouchable. A thought about the universe. What is this light that traverses my consciousness, leaving only a shadow trace? I contemplate what it could be.

I watch a program on the box, an actor sneezes as my neighbour arrives at his door, and I hear him sneeze a moment later. I read a magazine and my eyes scan the sentence with ‘green tree’ as a song on the radio in the background echoes the same phrase. I pour a cup of coffee and the Dj says ‘pour yourself a cup of coffee’. I sit in my car at the traffic lights and stare at a billboard with the picture of a fire engine, a fire engine crosses my view. Daily syncs, meaningless yet full of wonder.

As life’s events continue to conspire to destroy my sense of peaceful cluelessness, a realisation begins to manifest. IS the universe trying to communicate with me? ‘Are you talking to me?’ I ask in my best De Niroesque voice.

Throughout the Christmas period and New Year I kept coming across references to Genoa, and to Costa, either the coffee or a person named Costa. I was eating Genoa cake, reading a travel review about Genoa or being given a Genoa cake recipe. I began to wonder why so many people are called Costa and why I found myself constantly sitting in a coffee shop with the same name. I questioned the idea that I might be making a Genoa cake instead of the usual Mocha. Then the Costa Concordia struck rocks off the Genoa coast. That’s a mighty disturbing coincidence I thought.

It may be simply another one of those meaningless syncs that fill-up the day, but still weird none-the-less. The idea that there is any connection between my eating and drinking habits and a disaster off the coast of Italy is quite simply ridiculous. Isn’t it?

This week I was supposed to be trekking around Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, on a work team-building event. Instead I found myself hooked up to a ventilator in a local hospital trying to catch my breath after suffering a life-threatening asthma attack. I haven’t had asthma in ten years and a day before I am due to fly I collapse after a series of unfortunate events.

Finally back at home, I get cosy with my hot-water bottle as I settle to watch a DVD, only to find constant references to the Kuala Lumpur Transport Department. I decide to cook myself something and open the cupboard to spot a Laksa Curry sauce packet which I refuse to open. I can now hear the Universe mumbling something at me.

Perhaps there is a message coming through the ether. That’s not a question, just a statement of possibility. I’ve stopped talking so much now. Being unable to breath helps a lot with this. Now I’ve made a conscious decision to stop asking ‘Why?’ Instead, I am just simply… listening.

Cyprus... Still here!

It's October 18th 2011 and Cyprus is still here, no earthquake destruction, no tsunami, no end-of-the-world... it didn't happen, but this did....


...and this....

...and this....


My apologise to readers, I've been out of touch for a while... too much BS to deal with lately! If anyone is watching the news about what is happening in the Med. and near east region, you may have heard about Turkish threats to invade Cyprus again, if oil and gas drilling continues.

It's obviously a very tricky political game and it's anyones guess what will happen next. What I can tell you is that I have my passport with me at all times, just in case. Sounds mad doesn't it... that's what they said in Beirut and Tripoli and what they said back in 1974. The world is a different place now, but people haven't really changed that much.

Message to Rogerio: Don't blame the ‘crop-circle making inner-earth people or benevolent aliens’ - they can't win every time!

It has just been announced that there are confident estimates of billions of dollars worth of oil and gas off the coast... Soon everyone is gonna want to come to Cyprus (for a piece of the action)... and I'm not sure that's a good thing!

P.S. To the AWESOME Living Tiki of The Age of Volcanoes blog - I salute you!

Apocalypse Elenin or Psy-Op-War - You Choose!

A picture of Cyprus taken by NASA astronauts from ISS, the International Space Station (2010). But what’s this? A rogue Comet ‘Elenin’, influencing earth, and most specifically Cyprus? Have I fallen into yet another dimension?

The Discovery

This morning I discover a Brazilian psychic is claiming to have direct contact with extra-terrestrials discussing the fate of Cyprus? He thinks they may actually be inner-earth inhabitants or descendants of Lemuria. I ask myself again, what’s going on?

I have somehow managed to miss this year’s Avebury crop circle formation referencing Cyprus and the coming destruction. Where have I been?

Yes, we have electricity back, but the country is still in the grip of political and economic crisis. We are now at the mercy of the EU, US, UN, CIA, FBI, IKEA, and any other suitably acronym’d organisation that has enough power to destroy the calm of the collective’s psyche. I must include in my recent discovery, KYP… aka, the Cypriot Secret Service.

As I stared at my computer and replayed the ominous video produced by one Rogério Godoy, of a blog called ‘contatoalienigena’, things began to click. Cyprus is in the midst of a Psy-Op-War–style operation, which started long before the explosion at the naval base, and probably has been in the pipeline for years. How do I know this?

The Significance of… Cyprus

The significance of Cyprus on the world stage is pivotal, though its role is never highlighted. In some circles the island is called ‘America’s Aircraft Carrier’ because of its proximity to all the ‘hot’ zones in the middle-east. You can sail a yacht to Lebanon and just as easily launch a Patriot on Syria, with nothing in your way except for a few sea-gulls or a passenger airliner full of tourists.

Those blogs and sites that talk about mass-population mind-control should research Cyprus. There is a wealth of information demonstrating how the entire country has been manipulated over the years. For such a small country it’s had more than its fair share of tragedy and tribulation.

What else is there to notice about Cyprus? There are a few American and British Air Force Bases scattered around, it’s a route for Extraordinary Rendition flights as well as debriefing for returning soldiers from Afghanistan, it’s an Echelon Station, a HAARP Station, a hot-bed for chemtrails and UFO sightings, and there’s a human-cloning lab apparently.

Even the researchers over at ‘The Atlantis Project’ say that Cyprus is the location of that famed advanced civilization. I kid you not. Just go online, type any of the terms I’ve mentioned into Google and you will see a microcosmic universe of conspiracy open up in front of your eyes!

Let’s get back to the real point for this post.

I know that this sounds like something you couldn’t make up… and I didn’t. Not wanting to send people to this guy Rogério’s Blog (he already has more readers than I do) I will summarise.

Rogerio is a 52 year old psychic blogger from Brazil. His site is usually written in Portuguese, but for some reason the 'aliens' have sent him a message that he should post on the destruction of Cyprus in English (go figure). I contemplated contact with him to confirm his contact with the extra-inter-terrestrials, but then changed my mind (as you do).

Posted on 1st August 2011

“Alien message: Elenin alignment cause earthquake in Cyprus October 17, 2011”

On July 29, 2011, I received a telepathic message from inner earth people or by benevolent aliens, different from the previous messages I received weeks before.
"The message is this:

“Cyprus, CO2, posts in English, Harbor."

Rogerios goes on to explain this message of destruction with scientific information from NASA and his own research (he is working on his pineal gland right now). Perhaps I sound like I am judging him, and perhaps he really is a 52 year old psychic blogger from Brazil, who communicates with aliens, and see’s images of greys stamped on his bathroom carpet (really, he does). You want the link to his YouTube page so you can see it for yourself don't you?

Normally such drivel would only warrant a couple of one-liner jokes on my part. But living in Cyprus now, I’m sensing something more sinister in the works. There is no doubt there appears to be an increase in events of ‘high-strangeness’ here.

A Message to you Rudy

On his blog, Rogerios shows a picture of the British Airforce Base of Akrotiri as the supposed epi-centre of a mega 9.8 quake. I begin to see red flags popping up in the distance.

Last week I received a late-night text from my boss. He was warning all employees to be vigilant because his wife had been given some startling news while visiting Geneva. For obvious reasons I am not able to discuss my current job situation right now, but I can discuss the text. His wife was informed via e-mail, that the UN has issued an advisory to its staff based in Cyprus about ‘increased earthquake activity in the area’.

Earthquakes are a common occurrence around Cyprus so we rarely get anything officially announced. When Rogerios says that he was told by the ‘aliens’ that the destruction will take place on Monday 17th October 2011, I think that something definitely is coming. Whatever it is, it’s not going to be pretty. It may not happen on this date, but the powers-that-be have something in the works for Cyprus…

It’s worth mentioning the really unsettling coincidence that there are rumors of vast reserves of oil and gas located off the coast of Cyprus in its exclusive economic zone. Test drilling is due to begin at the end of September. Cyprus desperately needs to maximise on its natural resources as the energy crisis intensifies. The island has never been more significant than it is right now.

As much as I would like to dismiss Rogerios and his ramblings, I can’t help but believe that, whoever is suddenly opening YouTube accounts and blogging about Cyprus must be doing it for a reason.

Like those crazy embedded-coded messages and symbols that stare us in the face during movies for example. I would like to send my own message out to any ‘crop-circle making inner-earth people or benevolent aliens’ that may be listening…

STOP WHATEVER IT IS YOU ARE F***ING PLANNING TO DO TO CYPRUS - I BESEECH YOU - FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST - OR LUCIFER - OR WHATEVER THE HELL YOU PSYCHO ELITE PARASITE NWO CONTROLLERS HOLD DEAR – DO NOT DESTROY THIS COUNTRY – THERE WILL BE SOME REALLY F***ING BAD MOJO UPON YOU IF YOU CONTINUE!

(You will rarely hear me swear!)



UPDATE

When stories like these begin to appear, you know 'something' is up!

http://www.whatdoesitmean.com/index1518.htm

N.B. Cypress is a Tree - Cyprus is a Country! Although this Sorcha article is full of disinfo and coded freaky BS, there are some interesting links.

http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/147591#.TmjXB0_gVIQ

Could it be those inner-earth people upset about America's Nobel Energy Inc. drilling for oil and Gas beneath the crystal-clear waters of the Med. again?