Carol had telephoned the New Patriotic American
Siecherheitsdienstschutzstaffl Administration, some
weeks ago, to ask whether either of us were on their
anti-Constitutional ‘no fly list’ and after they
kept her on hold for about an hour (I didn’t ask her
whether Federal Musac, these days, is soul-stirring
marching music) a man came on line to advise her, in
clipped English, that when someone has been put on
this unlawful list, he/she is notified at the time
of departure but isn’t prevented from flying until
‘the next flight.’ I guess that’s the velvet touch
of the Brave New Alleged Government. If we
Americans weren’t all armed I suppose they’d just
disappear you to torture chambers at Guantanamo
instead of giving you this warm consideration at the
airport ticket counter. I remember when only
airliners were hijacked to Cuba.
Since I am officially already on some federal list
‘of 50,000 individuals’ and, so, have been unable to
wire money abroad.for a couple of years, also
because the FBI in Lewiston, Idaho, had told some
people whom we know that ‘Don Croft is Idaho’s
Number One Terrorist,’ I assumed the felonious feds
were going to get ugly about me getting on a
plane. It was apparently the Federal Bureau of
Instigation, after all, who broke into our home and
stole my last, ever, US passport, four years ago
after I got back from Uganda. That trip was my
latest commercial flying experience.
I’m happy to say that we weren’t thusly notified at
the ticket counter, nor did the feds put big, red
‘Xs’ on our boarding passes, as they routinely did
to us, before. In case you didn’t know, the red X
on one’s boarding pass is an indicator for the
Airport Gestapo that the pass holder needs to be
publicly molested. Carol and her daughter, Jenny,
both had those Xs on Carol’s previous flight and
were paraded like felons in front of the other
cowering passengers.
Maybe the feds knew I’d be writing about this
curious official terrorist ploy–who knows?
Surveillance around us, in recent months, has mostly
been discreet; even genteel. We got a sort of ugly
reminder of Federal Watchfulness in the Denver
Airport (‘Satan’s Hub’), though, on our first
stopover on the way from Spokane to Hawaii.
I had gone to the toilet and was in there
awhile. While I was washing my hands I heard
stacatto footsteps, which seemed odd for men’s
shoes, but I didn’t think much about it until, as I
turned to the doorway, an approaching woman in high
heels said, ‘Either you’re in the wrong bathroom or
I am!’
After I recovered from the shock and as I was
walking back to our boarding area I couldn’t wipe a
stupid, big grin off my face. I really tried not
to smile because I could see it was making a lot of
people mad at me. I knew they were mad because they
were glaring at me. Their anger made me realize,
anew, that airports are not happy places.
I couldn’t wait to tell Carol about it so that I
could finally wipe that grin off my face and she,
too, had a little tale to tell.
Shortly before I got back, a federal policeman with
spiffy black uniform, shaved head, scumbag-enitlement
attitude and no insignias on his uniform (she
figures that he hastily removed them before coming
out from under his rock) came looking for me when I
was in the toilet. Whenever either of us drop from
view the feds start to worry, especially in a place
like that, where the New Reich spent twenty billion
dollars building stuff under the airport. Of
course, the usual underground base costs many times
that much but somehow the ‘twenty billion’ figure
got into the press and the original estimate to
build the new Denver Air Teminal was a small
fraction of that amount–remember? Even the Europoid
Depression Babies who had sold their sons as cannon
fodder in Vietnam got alarmed about that.
This federal scumbag glared at Carol as he
approached her but eventually dropped his gaze when
she glared back at him. There was a whole lot of
glaring going on within a few minutes, then, but I
didn’t have an opportunity to glare at anyone, so
maybe I’ll get lucky in Satan’s Airport on the way
back.
What she found in his shiny peanut head was that the
feds were alarmed that I’d dropped from view for
awhile and it was his job to find me. I assume this
gangster had already checked all the stalls in the
Men’s Toilet before he accosted my wife. I wonder
if that federal freak is reading this, assuming he
can read, of course.
Actually; we’d been basking in the new, relatively
less-obtuse active surveillance–it almost feels like
they’re not around these days but maybe they’re just
growing shy in the face of all this waking up among
the populace.
I still get creeped out by the Airport Gestapo,
though. I won’t likely get used to their presence
because it’s like a punch in the face every time I
walk into an airport. Nobody else is getting used to
it, either, obviously, except the Gestapo,
themselves. I never remove my metal because the
Harmonic Protector silences their metal
detectors. That’s pretty cool, at least.
Did you know they make everyone remove shoes when
going through the gauntlet? One more incremental
step of humiliation and intimidation that’s nearly
killed the air travel industry by now. If they’d
pulled this stunt in the 1950s, the Europoid
American Depression Babies would have all said,
‘Thank You, Offizier!’ but, now, as you know, one no
longer says ‘Help! Police!’ when one’s in trouble
but rather, ‘Help! It’s the POLICE!’
I had made up six Eighteens (see materiaetherica.com)
before our departure and we bought a special,
steel-reinforced suitcase for them, assuming the
feds would try to crush them enroute. I cut six
‘armatures’ from 1/8" mahogany ‘doorskin’plywood and
Goop-glued 18 mini-muffin orgonite bits at the
requisite positions. Then I tested whether a
completed unit would sink, which it did, and
then finished the lot.
Carol had made up a bunch of dolphin balls and
mailed them to our hotel in the town of Kailua-Kona
and those arrived safely before we did.
On the first morning we drove to Kaleakakua Bay, a
half hour south of our hotel, and rented a two-seat
kayak from Herman, a Hawaiian guy, then paddled
across the mouth of the Bay, dropping three of the
Eighteens in the deeper water there. The sea was
quite flat that morning and we watched the first one
all the way to the bottom in about 75 feet of very
clear water. I was gratified to see it come to rest
on a bed of sand between a couple of coral heads. I
think these work best when they’re lying flat. I
took my boat GPS along to check water depths and
position. We dropped the other two in much deeper
water.
That’s the bay where Captain Cook was killed in the
late 18th Century, by the way, and has always been
sacred to the Hawaiians. Herman told me that the
old cement pier where he launches the kayaks is the
site of the first pier built on the Big Island.
The spinner dolphin pod who rest in the Bay during
the daytime love to swim with people in the early
morning, before ten o’clock or so. It was almost
ten when we arrived in the kayak at the swimming
area, which is about a thousand feet out from the
rocky beach at the southeast edge of the bay in
about fifty feet of water. Carol stayed on the
boat and I tried my hand at free diving to the
bottom. I used to be able to hold my breath up to
three minutes and to dive down a hundred feet when I
lived in the islands as a teenager but found it
surprisingly difficult to get to the bottom, that
day. Four dolphins briefly swam by, close, when I
was in the water and checked me out. Carol said the
pod was mainly interested in the Eighteens, which
were producing a lot of energy at the mouth of the
bay.
We had sat on the kayak, among the snorkellers, and
watched the flat surface of the bay for about
fifteen minutes but didn’t see any dolphins break
the surface, near or far, until I got in the water.
It’s pretty eery, sometimes, when dolphins often
just show up, nearby, but weren’t seen anywhere,
before. We believe it’s evidence of their ability
to flip in and out of 3D.
Every morning a crowd of people swim with the
pod. The Rockefeller-funded Gaia Nazis had entirely
failed to intimidate people away from the Bay, thank
God. When Carol was there, last time (two years
before) these nazis were going around in expensive
boats in the bay, threatening people with arrest by
the police if they approached dolphins in the
water. Too bad for these nazis that the dolphins
approach people, instead, especially underwater when
people are submerged
Carol, who was paddling in the front position on the
first day, maneuvered the kayak to hide my tosses
of the three 18s because she sensed that the gaia
nazis and/or their federal police cohorts were
spying on us from shore, trying to see where we were
dropping the18s.
On the way back, we had a terrific breakfast at
Aloha Angel Café in the little town of Captain Cook.
The next morning we got there around 8:30AM and swam
out from the beach. This time lots of dolphins came
around and after I dove down with several of them I
suddenly found that it was easy for me to reach the
bottom and even stay down there for a bit. Also,
when I came back up I still didn’t feel any
desperation. It rather felt exhilarating, just like
it did when I was in my youth. This peculiar upward
shift in confidence is one of many signals that one
is being boosted by the energy of nearby
dolphins. Note that it’s not unlike the way simple
orgonite encourages and empowers us and it’s not
hard to see why dolphins and whales love the stuff
so much, too.
I had lost a bunch of weight in the previous year so
I wasn’t bobbing like a cork any more, either. At
the hotel I discovered that I can actually sink in
fresh water, which is an indicator that the ratio of
fat to muscle is now a healthy one. I learned to
scuba dive when I was a teen but never liked having
all that gear on me.
When I was swimming around underneath, I saw a
dolphin swim across Carol’s path, very close to her
face, and partly jump out of the water there,
twice. They like to surprise people,
sometimes. She later told me that this is the
mother of the white dolphin that she photographed on
the previous visit and she just wanted to greet
Carol and let her know that they all appreciate the
18s that we dropped the day before. This dolphin
didn’t have a baby with her this time but on the
previous two visits she did. Carol said the moms
like to show off their babies to the friendlier
swimmers.
Being married to a telepath has a lot of rewards,
including some vicarious appreciation of close
interactions with other sentient species. To a
natural psychic like my gal, of course, all living
things are sentient and so are allegedly inanimate
and even mineral ones, ‘Gaia Hypothesis’
notwithstanding. I don’t think there’s a need to
mystify any of this.
Most people we meet aren’t capable or willing to
have this discussion but everyone who comes close to
dolphins while swimming is profoundly and
wonderfully affected. Carol and I wished that Jeff
McKinley were here with us because when he and I had
the opportunity to swim with dolphins from the boat
in the Gulf of Mexico we didn’t do it.
He told us about a friend of his who was approached
by dolphins when swimming in the Bahamas. The
fellow gave a yellow bandana to a dolphin, then, and
some years later, when swimming in that area again,
a dolphin with a yellow bandana in his mouth swam
over to welcome him back.
There were a score of snorkelers out there with us,
most of whom were apparently German tourists, which
I thought was pretty neat and a good indicator of
effective international networking about the
dolphins in the bay. Herman had openly invited us
to swim with the dolphins, so apparently the gaia
nazis’ vigorous terror campaign didn’t impress the
locals, either. These well-financed brain police
had gotten some alleged laws passed that clearly
indicate that if one swims within fifty yards of a
dolphin one can be arrested by the cops. Presumably,
a professional gaia nazi is supposed to be stationed
in the bay. every morning as they were when Carol
was here previously, to report people to the cops
but apprarently the dolphins, themselves, eventually
made monkeys of these brain police by aggressively
swimming among people. You can bet the local cops
don’t care whether people swim with dolphins
because most of the cops in Hawaii are laid back and
unobtrusive, unlike the eager and expectant New
Armored Jackboots on the mainland
Carol had remotely monitored the energy of the 18s
during the first day and it took several hours for
the vertical beams of orgone from the devices to
connect with the healthy orgone canopy, high above
the island. Since the one Cesco dropped in the
water, some weeks before, instantly shot a blue beam
up to the orgone canopy Carol felt it was obvious
that someone was trying, very hard, to suppress the
energy of the bay. The eighteens have been a
wonderful way for ‘the rest of us’ to discover the
value and significance of Laozu Kelly’s and Cesco’s
glob-trotting ministrations to the earth’s orgone
canopy. I think we’re finally understanding the
significance of all that and I’m glad that the ‘next
level’ tech that these guys are developing are the
fruits of all that labor.
Cesco wants me to wait to talk about the Cescolator,
by the way
Yesterday, Carol said, ‘I wonder how Kelly would
like swimming with these dolphins!’
The helicopter that frantically showed up while we
were with the dolphins on the first day (a half hour
or so after we dropped the 18s–too late, as usual,
to catch gifters in the act) was confirmation that
we had ‘disturbed their disturbance.’ Carol said
that the three unhappy passengers in the chopper,
which hovered all around the edge of the bay for a
few minutes and simply wouldn’t venture out over the
water
, were a CIA boss, a CIA psychic and a Rockefeller-payrolled
gaia nazi
Not long ago, the feds would have swarmed the bay
before we got there. I remember a time when you
couldn’t p!$$ behind a bush without hitting a CIA,
NSA. FBI, Mossadomite, Newage Nazi, KGB and/or
MI5/6 pavement artist–remember those early gifting
sorties in the years when the $#!+bird agencies
apparently thought they had a chance to stop the
growth of this unorganized, grassroot movement?
Somehow the sewer rats had managed to isolate the
west side (Kona Coast) of the island from the
orgone canopy, though Carol’s earlier gifting work
was still keeping the area pleasant. On her first
visit here, three years ago, the energy of the place
was literally dead from the molestations of the
world order, apparently through their extensive
underground facilities here. The evidence that the
beams had connected was seen the next day in the
form of a growing blue hole in the constant white
haze. We had dropped a fourth 18 in a suitable spot
inland from the beach where we had been. That left
two more of the devices to deploy.
We emailed Dr Len
Horowitz,
whom Carol visited each time she came to the
island, but haven’t heard back from him, so Carol
assumes he’s not on the island. The feds had
apparently leaned on the Hawaii Health Department to
shut down his bed and breakfast in Pahoa a couple of
years ago, we learned by visiting the
website. She’ll probably try to call him today
because this morning, when she gets up, we’re going
to the peridot beach and to Kilauea, which are on
the way to his place. The green beach made of
peridot sand is a couple miles of walking from the
road and the volcanic crater also takes some time to
drive around so we won’t take time to swim in the
bay, today.
I do intend to help Carol get familiar with our new
underwater video camera today, though, so that she
can film me swimming with our friends, tomorrow
morning. She prefers not to be filmed, yet. We’ll
fly home the next evening so there will be two more
swims for us in the bay.
A fellow out in the water who told me this was his
seventh visit described how dolphins swim while
sleeping. The spinnner dolphins swim close
together, unlike the bottlenose dolphins, and when
sleeping ones are swimming in a bunch a couple of
awake ones swim along either side of the group and
entrain them to get to the surface to breathe, then
the outriders take their place among the sleepers
and two more take on the guide duty, etc. They
catnap and Carol said they alternately shut down
either half of the brain. I said ‘Like you can drive
the car on trips while you’re out of your body?’ and
she said, ‘Right.’
After posting a mention, yesterday, that we’re in
Hawaii I got an email from a couple of people on
nearby Maui. One was from Peter, who had extensively
gifted Pearl Harbor and many of the death towers on
that island (Oahu) and another was from a fellow I
hadn’t yet met who said that a pod of dolphins are
now swimming regularly with people at a beach by a
hotel in Lahaina which is the main town on Maui. I
asked him for more particulars, which I’ll share
when I get them.
During a shopping excursion near the pier in
Kaiuna-Kona yesterday evening a Hawaiian store clerk
recognized our Harmonic Protectors and when Carol
gave her a card she said, ‘You’re THEM?’
We then ate at Cassandras, which is an old,
real-deal Greek restaurant by the pier. I love
Greek coffee and it’s hard to find places that still
make it so it was mighty nice to find this place.
We watched a dozen or so racing canoes from the
second-floor restaurant, which was open, facing the
bay. These traditional-looking Hawaiian racing
canoes are about forty feet long and paddled by six
or so people, mostly high school boys in this
case. The fastest canoe was coached by a girl, I
noticed. There are international canoe races here
in the summer.
I used to watch similar canoes when I lived in
Tonga in 1984-5, and I remember the cool sailing
canoes, stone money and topless women of the Yap
Archipelago of the Western Pacific when I was there
in the mid-sixties, a few years before Killer
Kissinger destroyed the culture with free money,
free food, free clothes, free electricity & TVs and
round-the-clock American programming on tape:
accelerated cultural decline with soap operas and
Bowling for Dollars in the background really
depressed me when I found out about it.
The Palauans, nearby, resisted all that and the CIA
and MI6 finally gave up trying to rape those islands
after they assassinated a succession of elected
officials in the early 1980s, after blowing up Mt
Pinatubo in the Phillipines. The world odor had
apparently wanted to move the Navy and Air Force
Bases in the Phillipines to Palau, then. I think the
Filipinos were finally getting tired of American
Jingoism and proxy despots. I hope the entire
planet will get sick and tired of this stuff so that
stupid American and Brit uniformed thugs will have
to stop playing at being cops for this parasitic,
corporate world odor.
I spent more time in Palau than on Yap and I’ve
always wanted to go back there. It’s called Republic
of Belau, now. They’re fascnating people with an
open culture and a hunger for information and travel
so I hope somebody will show these resourceful
people what orgonite does
~Don