In the information war, changing the narrative is paramount. In the wee hours, Donald Trump tweeted he tested positive for a so called virus that has been properly isolated. It sent shock waves through the world held hostage to the narrative. A previous narrative was fired upon us that President Trump had tax issues and his capital losses showed him to be hundreds of millions in debt with little hope of surviving the financial storm. His adversaries allege he is using the presidency to stay afloat financially.
This move entrenches the scamdemic and gives power to the mask Nazi’s to use the president as a shining example. However, nothing will happen to him. He will sit in ‘isolation’ from his plague for 14 days and emerge from a so called virus with a 99.7% recovery rate after a test noted for a 50% false positive rate.
If we follow the money, we will see there was most likely a whole lot of short selling going on. In the Bush 43 era, a term called scarrorism was all the rage. Whenever the headlines and narrative had to be captured Osama Bin Laden magically appeared. The narrative immediately changed. Another tool was domestic scarrorism unrelated to him in the form of the mass shooting event.
I saw the issue early in the Bush years akin to Rocky and Bullwinkle the children’s cartoon show. Hey Rocky watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat. In GW’s attempt Osama Bin Laden appeared. Now Osama Bug Laden is the object of mass mind control and terror. The president pulled him out of the hat, and the scamdemic is given new life and the conditions of repression given more impetus.
The president will give a life infusing boost to the life altering and destroying injections planned in the near future to be dispersed to his people and the world by militaries under threat of punishment as the mark of the beast system unfolds. There can be little room for doubt that the president is a functionary of the so-called deep state as a deeply embedded asset to lure, cajole and ultimately force humanity into its virtual prison.
There is a power that has mastery of this dimensional plane. It is described in the Jewish Orthodox Bible as Adam HaChadash. It’s mission is to slay the original Adam. It is my contention, our version of mankind has already been conquered. Boris Johnson made that entirely clear at his speech at the UN last year.
Max Igan and I put up a noble form of resistance to the pogrom yesterday in our hemispheric union broadcast on Power Hour Nation. This narrative forms a massive counter thrust. However, as the control grid tightens, escape will be impossible. People will be snared and it will be obvious that our leaders were complicit in the operation.
Operation Warp Speed will be exposed as the capture and subjugation of our species not the salvation of it. We may survive as isolated groups of troglodytes. President Trump has surrendered us into the mark of the beast system while alleging to be an American patriot in the great psychological mind control game. It is check not checkmate yet. However, your mind is only free to ponder fear and uncertainty in this narrative until the injection is ready to achieve checkmate. You may now resume your usual mind control program.
GRAVEDIGGER: Faith, if he be not rotten before he die—as we have many pocky corses nowadays that will scarce hold the laying in— he will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last you nine year.
HAMLET: Why he more than another?
GRAVEDIGGER: Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade that he will keep out water a great while, and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. (indicates a skull) Here’s a skull now. This skull has lain in the earth three-and-twenty years.
HAMLET: Whose was it?
GRAVEDIGGER: A whoreson mad fellow’s it was. Whose do you think it was?
HAMLET: Nay, I know not.
GRAVEDIGGER: A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! He poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick’s skull, the king’s jester.
GRAVEDIGGER: E’en that.
HAMLET: Let me see. (takes the skull) Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times, and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. —Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now to mock your own grinning? Quite chapfallen? Now get you to my lady’s chamber and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come. Make her laugh at that.—Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.
HORATIO: What’s that, my lord?
HAMLET: Dost thou think Alexander looked o’ this fashion i’ th’ earth?
HORATIO: E’en so.
HAMLET: And smelt so? Pah! (puts down the skull)
HAMLET ACT 5 SCENCE 1