Part 4: Thanks For The Memories...All the Way with LBJ...Brain Surgery at UCLA....They Didn't see Me as Human.....

Brice Taylor
Chapter Seven: 

All the way with LBJ 

Lyndon Johnson was a very tall and large man. He had a pocket watch on a chain that he wore in a high pocket in his vest or coat, not in his pants. He wore glasses to read. I remember him sitting at his desk reading on into the night. The rest of the room was dark except for the light on the desk that he was reading by. He liked to wear his hat even when he was inside. He just loved his hat. He told me his hat was a Stetson and that back where he came from it was the best... "Like a Cadillac," he explained. 

His clothes smelled of cologne and his suits were often gray or brown and he often wore boots. He wore big white baggy boxer shorts and they didn't ever look new, as one would think a person in his position would wear. He had a bridge with a few false teeth on it, smoked a cigar at times and other times he puffed on a pipe. 

On this occasion, he kept me in the bed in the darkened hotel room while he sat at the desk to finish up reading his papers. Then he turned off the light and came over to the bed where I was tucked in, wearing a skimpy teddy. It was cold in the room. All Lyndon had on was his boxers and brown socks. He laid his clothes by the table and chairs, and when he walked to the bed he pulled his penis out of the hole in his boxers and pulled my head over to him. He commanded, "Suck," while he pulled my hair to bring me closer to him. He stood, moaning with pleasure and then complained that he was needing to bend over too far so I got up on my knees and finished. He gratified himself in my mouth and liked to watch me swallow. Then LBJ climbed into bed and held me like I was a teddy bear and asked me to rub his back. One time he had me get out of bed to get him a cigar. He wanted me to light it but I wasn't very good at it because I was just a kid. I coughed a lot and nearly choked to death, but I got it to him in bed all lit. I handed him the cigar and he said, "Thank you, little lady." He usually called me that. He didn't want to go to sleep right away and had me turn the TV on for him. He never took his socks off the whole time. 

One time when I was with LBJ he asked me questions about school and seemed to like to hear me talk about it. He also liked for me to wear my black and white saddle shoes. I had very shiny patent leather ones. This was during the time I was still attending Hale Junior High School. Lyndon liked that I was very young. At this time I was around 12 or 13 years old. I was with him quite a few times. 

Another time my father took me to Texas on the flight back from Iowa. That's when LBJ showed me his Cadillac convertible. He kept it parked in a separate garage away from the ranch so it wouldn't get so dirty. "Hell, everything gets coated with dirt on the Ranch," he said. He had on his dress-up cowboy clothes and said that "Lady B" was off at some china convention. He drank beer in the car when we went on a "joy ride," he called it. I sat next to him and gave him a "super-duper," which was complete oral sex gratification. He said, "Be careful, I don't want to get any on the seat." 

I laughed and teasingly said to assure him, "I know. I'm an expert in this area. Remember?" 

"Well you sure do have spunk, I'll say that for you," he replied. LBJ smelled but not like body odor; it was just a strong male smell. He had his arm up over the back of the seat and we only rode for as long as it took to satisfy his sexual urge. Then he took the car back and had me keep my head down so no one could see me. I didn't go inside the ranch and when we got back he said, "This is as far as you go, little lady." I let myself out of the car and slammed the door. "You could have waited for my assistance," he said. 

I laughed and said, "I can do it myself." A suited man escorted me into the back of a black sedan that was waiting under a tree at the front of the ranch and I was taken away.

Another evening as I waited for Lyndon, dressed scantily in a black lacy bra, garter belt, black nylons and red high heels, he declared I was making smoke come out of his ears and that, "it shore  wasn't from his cigar." He wanted me to keep turning around and around and around while he looked at me. "My, my..." he said, licking his lips and as he put his hand to his mouth he continued, "My Lord, what do we have here?" The heavy stench of his cologne and smoke saturated clothes followed him over to me as he told me to bend over the bed with just those garter belts on and he stuck his penis in my bottom and then into my vagina but I had to give him oral sex in between, "to clean it off," he explained. It was disgusting and vile, even under mind control. Then we had intercourse and he liked it when I made noises. He had a cattle prod or some sort of electrical device nearby but didn't use it much. When he pushed the lever it made a crackling sound and what emerged looked like a jolt of yellow fiery-type electricity. He said he didn't have to use it with me much because I was so good.

He asked me if I liked what I did. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Yes," but due to the mind control I was under I was unable to really think about his question. He told me he loved the young ones, "...beautiful little lady." He liked to kiss open mouth but he tasted yucky like cigars. His private parts smelled, too. But then there was the cologne to cover up the smell. He was pretty fat from my perception, but big and tall. Lyndon had a medium to small penis for his big body, but he said he used it well. He wasn't really hairy and the hair on his head was thinning. He used something like Vitalis on what was left of his hair when he combed it. I think maybe that is why he kept his cowboy hat on all the time, even in bed.

I usually slept all night with him because he wanted me to. He slept really close and held on to me. I spent the night and then in the morning I was taken home. When I was in the 10'" grade, I spent the night with him more often - even sometimes on school nights. I didn't go to school until 11:30 a.m. anyway and no one could ever seem to tell I had been gone. Sometimes I missed a full day of school and no one at Hale or Taft High ever said anything to me. Another form of trauma was added when one day after school, I was forced to watch as the men in suits roughed up my junior high school principal.

I was taken to the White House to be with Lyndon. One night he told me all about this lady named Agnes who he loved before Lady B. That's what he called his wife, "Lady B," instead of Lady Bird. He said he never got over Agnes, just couldn't forget her. He said Lady B fit into his future plans and worked out better but that he just really loved Agnes. When he talked about Agnes he had a goofy faraway look on his face. 

Lyndon told me his wife had grown to act old early on in their marriage when something of a maternal nature happened to upset her. He said from then on she wasn't much for sex, so he took care of his needs elsewhere. He told me so much personal stuff that I think he must have forgotten how young I was. A lot of what he told me I didn't really understand. But I listened, apparently to his satisfaction, because one day he complimented me by saying, "You are a very good listener, young lady."

Lyndon also liked for me to cuddle on his lap while he fondled me in an armchair as he watched TV. He usually covered me with a blanket. It made it more secretive and he pretended people were present in the room with us watching but they didn't know what we were doing. Then he would ask me if I liked it.

I would smile and was programmed to say, "of course," or, "do more," or, "you're so big." He loved it all. I wore Unforgettable perfume with him. It was pungent and strong but he liked it. He especially liked sex when I was menstruating - he said it turned him on. He liked to do all sorts of perverted things to me during that time, which I don't feel comfortable sharing here. He also suggested that I do whatever I usually did for the cameras and take charge of our sexual activity. "You're in charge of the whoring, little lady," he would say as he smiled and tipped his hat. That hat was such an important thing to him.

He talked to me a lot and told me all kinds of stories over the time he was President. He liked for me to call him "Prez." He said when I called him Lyndon it made him feel guilty about Lady B so he said to call him Prez and I did as he commanded.

Sometimes he wore those dumb elastic things to hold his socks up like Bob (Hope) did. He looked so ridiculous wearing those dumb socks, his boxers and his hat, while he sat and smoked. He must not have cared what he looked like. The room was always kept pretty dark. He said he was most comfortable like that, but my eyes would adjust to the dark and I could still see how silly he looked. The teen personality programmed to be with him during those times was respectful and performed as her programming dictated, but through her teenage eyes, felt he was just a dork.

I did things that made him laugh. They were really dumb things but he seemed to like them. Like once I pulled my hair over and around and onto my upper lip and scrunched my lip up, pinching the hair under my nose to make it look like a mustache. Silly things made him laugh.

He tested my programmed capabilities. He burned me with a cigar one time, because he said he was told to try it to see what happened. He looked pretty amazed when I took off my clothes, sat down, got into position and told him to go ahead and stick it in, that it wouldn't burn me. So he pressed his cigar to my vagina and it didn't burn me. The pain didn't even register - "it didn't even hurt," is what I told him. That made him turned on and he said, "Little lady, you give me a big boner." He told me there was an endless stream of young ladies who liked his "big boner."

He liked the song that goes, "I'm a long tall Texan, and wear a 10 gallon hat." He also liked Born Free and Burt Bacharach's Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head and Blue, Blue, My World is Blue. He also liked hot dogs and hamburgers, but hot dogs best. And he told me he liked dachshunds, those little wiener dogs. I often felt like a dog with him because he was always patting my head. I joked with him about it and started barking when he patted me. I could really get off-the-wall with him and he seemed to love it. He laughed and laughed like Nixon and Reagan did at the silly things I was programmed to say and do. I don't know if he was aware that I had been programmed with most of the jokes. 

The men in suits usually took me to him at a hotel. They put me in the room to wait for him. I'd say the suits were the Mob, but Secret Service agents waited outside the door once the Prez got there.

Once we were alone I was programmed to say, "Hey Prez, got a big boner for my little pussy today?" He would get all excited and start kissing and licking me. Yuck, it was gross. But it was the saddle shoes that really got him every time. He liked me to wear my school-type clothes and so I did. I was helicoptered from somewhere near Woodland Hills. Usually I was not flown in on a big commercial airline to see Lyndon. I don't know why but it was usually private planes. Then I would sleep with him all night and be flown back to California. There were times when, after I was used, the men in suits would let me out of the car near school and I would have my school clothes on from the day before, and I would just walk to school and go in like nothing had ever happened. 

One time when I was sent to Lyndon, somehow I ended up wearing the St. Christopher metal that my programmed boyfriend Craig had given me for going steady. The men in suits would have normally taken away any personal item of this nature, but for some reason they missed my necklace this time. Johnson examined it and asked me what it was. Unable to think to lie, I told him it was a necklace my boyfriend gave me. Immediately he looked depressed. So I climbed into his lap and told him not to worry that my boyfriend couldn't hold a candle to him and that I was forced to be with my boyfriend, but that I choose to be with him. He smiled, pulled his hat down over his face, and leaned back in his chair ordering, "a blow job a-la-carte." So I performed as commanded. He said most women didn't love it the way I did. 

Lyndon thought Texans were the best and most powerful type of men. I was taken to Texas to be used sexually by the Prez at a cabin or ranch out in the middle of nowhere. It had fences and horses and a wood cabin type house, but there were hardly any trees or greenery, like in California. The cabin was  wood inside and he had a lamp that was made out of a bootleg. He loved it and I teased him about it, "Who's leg ya' got there holding up that light?" On a table there was a picture of Lady B that had been taken at the Ranch. We had sex there on occasion, because, as he explained, it was a place he could go and not be seen or bothered by anyone. The Secret Service could guard him well there since there was nothing else around and no one had any business going there unless they knew LBJ and had been invited. Despite the security there, LBJ often wore a small gun strapped to his leg by his boot. He said he enjoyed carrying it. He waltzed me back to his room, to the bed he shared with his wife. He said, "By sleeping here with you, when I'm f- -king the little lady, you can bet I'll be thinkin' of you."

There were white limos with Johnson. He liked oral sex when we rode in the back. He made the Secret Service agents ride up with the driver instead of in the back with him and he would have them close the tinted window behind the driver. He told them he didn't want to be disturbed because he and the "pretty little lady were going to have a nice quiet chat," which in actuality was a sexual encounter. Usually he was being driven to some location and upon reaching his final destination would debark the limo, leaving me in the back, or I would be kept waiting in the back for more when he returned. He could handle up to three oral sex encounters a day without any problem. He had his pocket watch on a chain in his vest pocket and would check the time to inform me if we were rushed or not. Usually he would say we were rushed which meant I had to work quickly and get him aroused and satisfied rapidly. 

Later, he wanted me to dance cowboy style with him and I tried but wasn't very good. He said, "Don't worry, you know how to do the most important things - you've got what counts." One day he gave me an iris from an arrangement on a hotel table. He bowed and did a little dance as he held it out to me. It was really out of character for him.

At the end of "the Prez's" administration, I was also filled with more mind file information. I was taken to different offices in DC to be imprinted with more top secret, classified data by a female administrator.

LBJ also told me that the White House was a very lonely place to live and that he really wasn't very happy there. He said he was most at home in Texas at his ranch. Occasionally he had meetings there and other men were present. I had to give oral sex to many of them. I was usually there for one overnight and then driven back to town by limo, then flown home. Before I was put on the plane to California, the men in suits always took me for a coke and french fries at McDonald's. This was part of my programming to believe I was at McDonald's in California, so I wouldn't remember where I really was. The fries and coke were delicious since my programming required that I was food deprived before and during the time of my use. Then the men put me on the plane with the suggestion to sleep and forget. Because of our programming my mom never noticed I was gone and neither did I ... not until 1991 ... over twenty-five years later. 

"This, too, is apart of "The Truth that will set you free. " -- John 8:32 

Chapter Eight: 

Brain Surgery at UCLA took 

away my Father’s Free Will 

Bethesda, Maryland

In my early teens, one of the places I was taken to was a hospital in Bethesda, Maryland. Two men in suits met me at the airport, drove me there and waited while a nurse helped me out of the car and took me into the emergency room. I was doubled over in pain, having trouble walking because the men in suits had just slugged me in the stomach. They told the old grey haired nurse in the pink uniform with the little white apron, that I had appendicitis and to take me immediately into the emergency room. I don't know why but the men put a blond curly wig on me. I had on blue jeans, tennis shoes and a T-shirt.

I was terrified and couldn't help myself. The nurse took me in and waved me through all the paper work. Two doctors, clad in full surgical garb met me at a door to emergency surgery. They told the nurse they'd take over from there and laid me directly on an operating table and put a mask over my face and a needle in my arm. I had needles put in my arms all the time so that wasn't anything new, but it hurt. They told me they weren't who they appeared to be and then they put me to sleep with some sort of anesthetic, but parts of me from inside watched and knew exactly what was happening. There was great fear that they would really cut me open and take out my appendix when I didn't need it taken out. But instead, they put electrodes on my forehead, temples and head, and headphones on my ears that delivered one sound to one ear and another sound to the other. Then they varied the sound volume, quickly bringing the volume up so loud that it was excruciatingly painful. I felt like I would go crazy. They kept delivering electroshock to my head. Then they inserted something into my vagina and shocked me vaginally, then shocked my head, and they kept that routine up for what seemed like eternity. I could smell the alcohol and could feel when they put a cold scissors-like thing up my nose. It tickled and itched. Then a doctor said, "It's in place."

Everything inside of me felt psychedelic from the drugs they gave me. There were lots of colors and flashes of light that caused a very unreal feeling. I don't know how long I laid there. Eventually, they called for a nurse and told her to help me back out to the car. They said that I checked out fine, that I must have just eaten something that made me sick. The nurse put my arm around her neck and helped me outside. I had trouble walking but managed and she delivered me back to the two men in suits.

They, in turn, brought me to a darkened room all alone for awhile and then hooked me up to some of their own equipment. I sat in a chair while they put a band around my head and wrists, and shocked me while I listened to something they played through headphones on my ears. I couldn't understand the words I heard, as they were all mixed up and it made me nuts to try to understand. Then they unhooked me and said it was time to go home. I was put onto a military helicopter with two rotors, one at the front and one at the back and transferred to another plane that didn't have regular seats like a commercial airplane. There were just a few seats on either side and all sorts of straps and equipment on the floor. I laid on the floor during the whole flight.

My mother picked me up at the airport and I slept in the back seat of our Cadillac all the way home. She put me to bed and I could hardly move. I was in lots of pain and was nauseated, sick, and exhausted for the next two days. I couldn't eat or get out of bed. I just slept it all off in a hazy, drugged sleep. Mom just thought I had the flu again.

There were lots of times I was taken to places for programming. They had all sorts of schemes to get me to the programming sites - even getting me to pull my car over to the side of the road, after I learned to drive. I remember how one man told me to get out of the car, while another man pulled my hood up before taking me away in an ambulance to Westlake Hospital. Then they flew me from there to wherever they wanted me to go. 

I remembered an incident where I was on an operating table and I saw a whole roomful of women like me who were also laying on gurneys with white sheets over them, and we were all linked up together through a single wire. There were mirrors all around and while I was deprogramming I realized that these other women were all parts of me; they all looked like me but had different lives and different jobs. That's what my programmers told me in order to create and enforce my multiple personalities. 

Sometimes there were groups of doctors or scientists watching from chairs in a circular arena that extended upward. In this setting the doctors made presentations on their findings in order to display the research and show their progress so they could get additional funding or permission to do more mind research into areas they wanted to explore. The stage where I was being tested and displayed to the doctors in long white lab coats was low and as I looked up there were rows of ascending circular chairs in the arena from where they watched. Sometimes while I laid on the gurney, they would shine lights into my eyes and tape them open so I couldn't avoid the lights. They blinded me with one color for a long time, like white, and then added in another color like red or green. It was painful, so I escaped like I had been trained from birth to do, into mental dissociation so I couldn't feel the pain. Often they paired electroshock with the bright lights and music or word phrases. At appropriate times, they displayed a picture of Craig onto a holder in front of me while I sat in a chair that spun around and around. They played love songs while they spun me and when I came to a stop, I would see the picture of Craig and feel relieved. They told me Craig was my lifeline and to sever a connection with him was equal to death. Later on in my life, they did that sort of programming with my children's pictures.

My Father Has Brain Surgery

UCLA Neuropsychiatric Institute 1967

The summer of my 16th year, our family physician, Dr. Stoddard referred my father for brain surgery to UCLA Neuropsychiatric Institute. Dr. Robert Rand was the Neurosurgeon who performed the operation. My father never had a chance. Suited men came to visit and monitor us at crucial times. They were always watching and they gave him shots in his thighs and then asked him questions over and over, and told him what to do with me. Very scary and frightening events happened there to keep me further under control. I can only imagine what they did to my father's brain. The day before his scheduled surgery, a nurse came into his room while the whole family was visiting before surgery. He held out a box and explained very matter-of-factly that the hair in the box was my father's, just shaved from his head, and in the event that he didn't make it through the surgery they were keeping his hair to put back on his head in his casket. These insinuations, coupled with the ritual abuse I had previously endured, were enough to further dissociate me. There were other horrifying events performed to frighten me into further dissociation, creating even more control.

My mother and I were told to wait in the hospital lobby until they came to tell us the surgery was over. They called a code name for me over the loudspeaker and responding to the call, I walked up to my father's hospital room. A doctor in a white coat met me in the room and said he wanted me to enter the surgery room and watch. As I entered, I saw my father with his head cut open, with tubes in him everywhere; in his head, in his nose, in his arm, and they told me that my father would no longer hold authority over me. Now he was totally under their control and, now they would be in total control of me. Then they strapped me into the bed next to him and gave me some sort of gas through a mask they put over my nose and mouth. They told me to turn my head so I could watch everything they did to him that day - they took my real father away from me and the doctor said that they would be in charge of everything that happened to me and all my progeny from then on. I didn't know what that meant, but I knew it was bad. They performed some sort of surgery on me, too. They inserted something under my nail bed and later they told me they moved it somewhere else and I would find places on my body with skin flaps where I figured they had put them in. They tested and experimented with implant after  implant on me. With some implants they were trying to see if they could totally control me from a distance.

Later when my mother came to look for me, she found me sitting in my father's room bent over with my head down to my knees, while a nurse standing by me explained, "She fainted, that's all. She'll be all right." My father made it through surgery and was placed in intensive care.

Soon after, my controllers told me my father had died in the surgery, that all I had to do was remember how he looked with his eyes closed to realize he was dead. They told me that my 'real' family would take over now and that I needed to understand that it was really best that way. And, although everything outwardly appeared to remain the same, nothing ever was again. The life essence of my father was totally gone; he was not in control of himself any longer. My brother Rick took over the family business and I began traveling more, internationally.

Months after my father's release from the hospital, he came into my room and sat down on the floor next to my bed while I was studying. Upset and very emotional, which was very unusual for my father, he said, "Honey, big things are happening and I've lost control of you." Tears were streaming down my strong father's face. I didn't know how to react. My macho father never cried. I couldn't think to question him or to wonder just what it was he was trying to tell me. So I let it go, along with hundreds of other questions and thoughts that any normal, unprogrammed daughter would have thought to ask. 

Institute Of Higher Learning

Sometime later, I was taken to a hospital in Montreal. My controllers called it an "Institute of Higher Learning," but instead of higher learning, I was put in a hospital gown and kept drugged and in restraints. A very important French personality inside of me was created and enhanced there. If I didn't cooperate they put me into a padded cubicle in the dark until I "came to my senses" and began behaving properly. I'd seen over the years just what they had done to my father and I couldn't take anymore. I had nothing to lose by not cooperating. From one of his personalities that was 'in the know' and before brain surgery took his free will away, my father told me, "You don't have to do anything they say honey, they want to take your mind." Years later as I retrieved pieces of my memory that allowed me to see the bigger picture, I remembered numerous occasions when my father laid in programs to help me exit my abuse. He even gave me suggestions to heal and bring my personalities together. I've often wondered if this was a more significant contribution to my successful healing than I could ever imagine.

"All that is now hidden will someday come to light!" -- The Living Bible.

Chapter Nine: 

They didn’t see me as Human 

Sweet Sixteen

Bob Hope was one of the first high-powered men Craig 'delivered' me to. This, of course, was by no means my first meeting with Bob, but it was a test for Craig and the first time my young 'handler' would use the programmed skills he learned to take me to my assignment. For my 16th birthday present in 1967, Craig surprised me with a trip, by train, to the San Diego Zoo for the day. Consciously we were programmed to be committed to a non-sexual relationship, waiting for our projected wedding date to consummate our marriage. At least that is why we thought we were only spending the day, and not the night in San Diego. Due to our programming, neither of us had any conscious awareness that anything other than that was occurring.

We boarded the train, and after a while Craig delivered me to a private car where Bob Hope, Senator Alan Cranston, and a couple of other men were waiting. Craig left me with them and then robotically left the room. I had sex with each of them as the others watched. They were all old men, even in those days. 

Later, Bob said he had a little job for me to do and the next thing I knew I was in a big office with wooden floors and a desk with an American flag beside it. When Bob introduced me, I shook hands with the man behind the desk. He impressed me then as an important man, like the President, but he wasn't. Bob left me alone with him. The man asked me all kinds of questions and I told him that I had been insurance company bonded as a requirement of my Christmas employment in a jewelry store. He seemed to like that. He also wanted to check out my body. Following his instructions, I removed my clothes and he 'checked' me all over by feeling. He put his hand behind my neck and pulled me over to him and began kissing me.

This dark-haired executive was much younger than Bob. He turned me around facing away from him and I could hear the noise of the zipper as he unzipped his pants. He pushed me over at the waist and began having sex with me from behind. He explained that he was checking the fit. I didn't know what that meant but was very embarrassed, as evidenced by my red cheeks. He commented on how he liked it when I blushed. He said it meant that I was naive and innocent, and explained he liked them that way. When he was through 'questioning' me, he opened the door and went and got Bob. He told Bob that I'd be fine, that he was very pleased, and went to his drawer, took out a folder, and wrote out a check. He carefully put the folder away, handed Bob the check and said, "Here's a check for the cause." I didn't know what that meant either but they shook hands and both seemed pleased. 

When we left in the limo, I couldn't see where we were going, because Bob pushed my head down on a man's lap for me to perform oral sex. The rest of the day was a blur. I didn't know where my boyfriend Craig went or if I would ever see him again. I was exhausted when we finally got 'home' and that night I 'slept away' all memories of this experience just like I had been programmed to do.

During my teen years, I remember Craig and I would lie around my backyard pool for hours, swimming, talking and playing. At the time, that was all I consciously remembered. But, when I woke up to reality years later and began recalling what fully happened, I remembered Craig holding a small brown bottle with a dropper in it. He put some of the clear liquid from the bottle onto a piece of celery and peanut butter and gave it to me to eat. After I did, everything kept moving, like a movie, except each frame was moving in a fractured, uneven, hazed way. It was hard for me to even walk to the pool. I bent over, my stomach cramping and everything was spinning. I wasn't suppose to notice that he had given it to me, but I did, and later I remembered other times. 

Happy Daze
By the time I entered William Taft High School in Woodland Hills, my life began to change even more dramatically. Due to the mind control I was under, I constantly had a smile plastered on my face whether I was happy or not. The ritual abuse became minimal during this time, done only on occasions that were required to maintain my mind control. Through a vast array of the latest in human programming technologies, I was well on my way to becoming a total and completely compliant, efficient and multi-tasked robot.

Looking back now, high school felt like one big blur to me. I remember having only one close friend at a time, and knowing that I was "popular" but never feeling that way. Instead I felt ugly, stupid, awkward, shy and set apart from the other kids at school that were my age. I was made part of the Student Council so that I would have a public school image. Often my picture was posted on walls to announce upcoming events, or to announce contests I was entered into. My presence leading and organizing certain school functions served to allow many of the students to know who I was; yet very few students really knew me or were close to me. A whole strategy was devised to keep me popular in the eyes of my schoolmates and most of the faculty by making me a continual face or body by plastering pictures of me all over the school; yet, I was not in attendance on a very regular basis. Henry said it was for my protection, so others would feel below me and many wouldn't even approach me as if I was a celebrity, and I was instructed to "act" that way also. I was known in school, without ever really "knowing" anybody because of the projected image that was publicly created for me. I felt isolated and alone, in a daze, like I really didn't exist.

I was programmed to act snooty and too good for people, to remain very aloof. Yet I was deeply locked into my own inner world, constantly mentally working to keep all data filed correctly in all the areas Henry created. I was so inwardly focused that I had a very hard time in the physical world, hence the reason my mother did everything for me at home. Henry told me to spend all my time tending to the mental files. And while my mother did all the domestic chores, I did as Henry commanded, often floating on a raft in our backyard swimming pool, sorting mind files all the while in a trance state. I had many mental exercises Henry assigned for me to perform at home. The system he created and used during my 16th to 22nd years was extensive and required mental work to keep organized, cleaned and neat. Henry said it took mental muscle to keep the files in complete order.

I was elected Vice President and then President of the Girl's League Association at school, and was part of the Student Government. I was voted 'Princess' at the prom, was paraded in a convertible at a football game and had my picture pasted all over the school for fashion shows and contests I was in. But, I never felt like I belonged; I just felt like a robot, living in a complete fog, and looking back that is exactly what I was.

As Girl's League President, I was in charge of a fashion show that was called "Tivoli Gardens," a foreign affair that was so named in order to scramble a lot of the international work I was doing with Henry abroad. They even used times I was supposedly buying flowers in downtown Los Angeles at the flower mart as a scramble. My mother reluctantly accompanied me on the stage at the fashion show to introduce the models. She was so shy and embarrassed but she did it for me because I asked her to. Henry had already taught me to see the audience in totality as one person I was comfortable speaking with and to begin my speech as if the two of us were alone. And I was instructed to wear my speaking dress to give me confidence and poise. Armored with these inner crutches, I could speak with no hesitancy, no shyness, and no apparent problem at all.

I also spoke publicly for Henry at other occasions where he would load me up and book me a time slot on stage. Sometimes it was a debate between fellow robots on political issues but I wasn't trained  like they were - I was trained only to deliver. Many others were adroit at debating, but I wasn't. So I'd go up on stage, deliver my pre-programmed speech, everyone would clap and later Henry would say I did a great job. But I had to have on my speaking dress, and no matter what I was really wearing, it became "my speaking dress." If he was present, Henry commented before I went on, "My, you look lovely in your speaking dress," and then my speech would be internally engaged and I'd be ready to deliver. I performed in these ways for many "show your latest technology in robots" shows. After I passed those, I got to move on to more diplomatic matters.

Henry used me to warm up groups that his constituency was going to speak to and I often wore several different disguises and always looked different. Henry was the puppeteer and I was his puppet and at anytime he wished, he could pull my strings and make me change into a different puppet, with a different face with which to meet the public. And like Mr. Potatohead, he could order what kind of face he wanted me to put on. "Squint your eyes a bit, curl up the ends of your mouth, flair your nostrils, pull your jaw forward"...all sorts of different facial mannerisms and contortions that I was programmed to perform, combined with wigs, glasses, body padding, hats, etc. It was all quite effective as I played my role creating different faces to present to the public. Not many people know about this technology yet and Henry said we had a definite edge on the others. He said that it was always important for us to strive to reach greater and greater knowledge and awareness, to stay ahead of the pack in being the first, the best, and the brightest in our latest endeavors. He was constantly experimenting with me and adding things like archival information and classified documents, in order to have the latest information to draw from.

Henry said, "You're the leader of the pack in this diplomatic endeavor and as such we will continue to update your system in order to insure that you stay "the leader of the pack." In a hypnotic session, he said to me, "Each and every time you hear the song, "Leader of the Pack," on the radio, you will think of the motorcycle bikers only and will remain in the dark otherwise." The word "dark" was internally linked in my system to all sorts of ritual horrors and terrors, thereby plunging this information that was subliminally linked to it deeply into the recesses of my subconscious mind. I could not consciously retrieve it; yet it ruled my actions. In this way the ritual tortures that I had endured as a child and as a young adult at my church were linked to these other memories. They tied the ritual trauma to these memories by saying, "If you begin to recall such and such, you will immediately recall the ritual, and they would go into great detail to remind me of the tortures that happened at those rituals. They used the ritual tortures on and off at strategic, necessary times to either bring to the forefront an old group of personalities, or to create a new group. A traumatic ritual could effectively create a whole new group of alternate personalities, since it was such an extensive trauma. Henry often spoke to his colleagues on this subject, advising them when and where to use trauma. Henry consulted with other men who needed guidance as to how to create and maintain a robot or group of them, as in Bob Hope's case.

Bob had a whole group within me, eight personalities at one time, but Henry advised him to cut it down to four because he said he couldn't effectively maintain that many until the level of technology rose, allowing for more of the programming and maintenance to be performed by machine rather than by man. Henry said my prototype was not new but was highly expanded and more technical and he was building on an older model of a sex robot and mind computer prototype, combining them within me in hopes of expanding technologies and coming up with a more versatile workable model. He actually viewed me as a machine.

Dr. Olmstead, our principal, gave me orders in his office. When he did I would go into robotic receiving mode and record all the data he gave me. I transferred what was appropriate to my blue inner calendar and filed the rest of the information into the suggested files for use at the correct time. My Student Government (Student Council) teacher, Saul Rowen, would drive me, to catch a plane or, more often, to a helicopter port where I was then transported to a government approved shuttle plane to  Washington, DC or New York. Usually I was taken to Nixon for sex and to straighten out his often dour attitude and then to Henry and the research team for further instruction.

Back home Dr. Stoddard prescribed a continuous supply of the antibiotic Tetracycline. He said I had to take the medication so I would not have pimples. I never was able to question this at the time, could not think to, but realized later on, as I healed and integrated, that I never suffered from any type of acne and must have been given this antibiotic to insure I did not infect the government leaders with any "social diseases." He also prescribed mood elevators and mild tranquilizers for me during times when I was extremely depressed as a teenager. These helped to keep me "happy." During the times I was being used by others, they utilized personalities that were cheerful and energetic, so my moods were never a problem. Dr. Stoddard also gave my father shots of testosterone to boost his sexual desire. 

Looking back, my high school years had a very unreal feeling to them. I didn't eat much in those days, in obeisance with programming, and was very thin like the popular model of the time, Twiggy. I had programs in place that guaranteed that my physical body would maintain a perfect size 6, or less, and usually in those days I wore a size 2 or 4. If I ate very much I became nauseated and could eat no more. When I went for a few days without eating while I was on assignment, my stomach shrank and so it was difficult to eat much, plus I would often be very sick and shaking from the high voltage I was subjected to. My mother often got into my twin bed next to me and held and rubbed me to get my body to calm down. She also kept saying, "You're home honey, you're home." My body often convulsed and I had dry heaves but after I slept I was usually better. 

Rocketdyne/Rockwell International
Ken Golliher was a nuclear physicist and a Mason who was respected as 'the brains' behind a lot of scientific plans or inventions while employed at Rocketdyne in the Woodland Hills area. He worked with Ellsworth Ford, Craig's father, who was plant engineer, and Mary, the women I've previously mentioned, our neighbor who for many years was my 'second mother.' Ken's daughter Shelly was a member of the young women's Masonic organization, Job's Daughters, and attended the same school as Craig. Through their friendship I came to know her.

But it wasn't until some twenty-five years later that I began remembering Ken Golliher, adorned with a white lab coat, white hard hat and goggles, waving me through the security guard at the front guard gate at Rocketdyne. From his lab coat pocket hung a plastic badge with his picture and other information on it. I don't know what he told them to gain entrance for me, maybe that I was his daughter or something. Anyway, they let me through the security gate driving my family's old '57 Chevy. I must have been around sixteen years old.

Once inside the building, Ken showed me the monkeys in a cage and one monkey was sitting in a chair with its little head screwed into a metal framework that wrapped around his skull. Ken told me it didn't hurt the monkey at all. Before I knew it, I was strapped into a chair, with electrodes positioned on my head. They told me that I was strapped in so I wouldn't move around. Ken was an excellent photographer and before me was a slide screen. At first I was shown slides of nature scenes like flowers with bees on them and then they began flashing technical slides with pictures of moon landings, instrumentation information, satellite diagrams, craft designs, mathematical equations and all sorts of technical information. There were slides of page after page of numbers, formulas and diagrams of assembly information for certain projects. One picture was of a mechanical chair that a robot--I mean astronaut--could maneuver around on the moon. It's possible that some of the astronauts are human robots, because I saw the formulas for programming them so they could be controlled from earth and scientists would never have to rely on the astronauts human emotions' or human errors in thinking. I saw a whole set of plans for training and conditioning an astronaut. 

The United States actually sent many more people and animals onto the moon and to other planets than they let be known to the American public. They were experimenting with all types of life forces on the moon and didn't announce many of their experiments, or findings. The ones that were made public were strictly to control the feelings and beliefs of the American people. Unscrupulous scientists sent "indigents" as they called them, to the moon and other planets, and they usually didn't return ...or if they did they tested them to see what killed them. So great was the desire to explore other planets to beat the Russians, or to quench the curiosity of some totally left brain scientists, that they didn't care who they killed or hurt to get the desired results.

They were doing initial research and used mind-controlled slaves to explore the possibility that humans could live in outer space - on space stations and other planets. This was done in preparation for the elite families to have a place to go should the need arise. Even back in the late 60's they had tracking stations on the moon that were highly sophisticated, and used to measure many things. Somehow they were even able to monitor the 'feelings' of a population. They monitored the earth from the moon much more than they monitored the other planets. This monitoring system was set in place to control a society--to control their feelings and thought patterns. They rationalized these actions explaining that in this way they would be able to create a society free of crime and violence, but that is because people won't be able to think for themselves. Their plans are for a society of mind controlled robots. I saw them perform studies on hamsters and rats where they totally controlled them by these means. Now they can do it with human beings and create any situation on the globe they want to peace, chaos, violence, whatever they want and then they can go in with their invisible frequency warfare and publicly visible police force and take control. In this way people could lose all the freedom they once had. It is already happening. Without knowing it, people are loosing freedom over their own thoughts and emotions and will become controlled instead by technologies that they could never even have imagined, let alone thought possible. It is a sick, twisted, and sinister scheme of global mind control. (See Nick Begich's book, Angels Don't Play This HAARP.)

Back then, Rocketdyne had a test site in the Santa Suzanna Mountains, a missile range firing plant where the scientists had the privilege of quickly testing their inventions on the spot without having to wait for them to be sent to other firing locations. The scientists liked that instant gratification. They could see how their blueprints worked right away. So they had a total loop from blueprints, to manufacturing and then to launch - and it was more than mere missiles they were firing off.

Ken got me into the facility over and over in my teens, to hook me up to equipment that bypassed my conscious mind to record in my "top secret mind files" information about their ideas which needed to be passed on to alternate sites or the Department of Defense. They were all secretly inter-connected with a huge web of criminals on the inside and at the top who operated without the knowledge of the public. 

Army Base Programming
More programming took place on an army base where I was escorted past some men in army uniform to an underground facility that we arrived at by walking down a steep flight of stairs to a large cement and grey metal-walled warehouse. I was taken past a room with desks and computers to a room behind where the programming equipment was kept. They put me inside large cylindrical machines where I either laid or sat while they did all sorts of things to me. One time they put me in a decompression chamber where I felt like I was getting squeezed to death and then they put in some gas that made me laugh and feel weightless. They hooked wires and electrodes to my head and limbs and 104 they used loud sounds intermittently with soft sounds, then blasted the loud sounds again during which time an army officer in a brown uniform delivered word phrases to me that were inaudible to my conscious mind because of the other loud sounds I was being subjected to. They put me through a series of machines ...ones that spun me, rolling me tumbling head over heals, for long periods of time. Then they laid me on a table and shined bright lights in my eyes and loud sounds again in my ears. At the same time, the officer yelled at me. I was so confused and out of it that another officer tried to calm me down on the table so I could dress and leave. I was escorted out into an awaiting limo. I did notice that we were in an area that looked like the California desert.

I watched and recorded in my mind files, much like a court reporter, while the American doctors in coats mapped my forehead and face and hooked me up to electrodes. There were other people in the room sitting like zombies all with their heads mapped out. We all have numbers that follow us no matter what research projects we were assigned to. They were studying our brains in a variety of different contexts, in all different environments, with different stimulation. They were also studying genetic effects, cultural effects, nutritional effects, every effect of environment and genes on a person's brain function, their life function, their longevity, their functionality and productivity. They monitored (by the electrodes) and registered and mapped lots of data that was imputed on brain function. This also furthered their understanding of how humans would do on other planets and space stations. The movie Coma (1978) was later used as a screen memory (to scramble this abuse), but the experiments were reality. Some data was taken much later on at Pepperdine University in Malibu, where I attended as a college student in 1985-87, and some at international locations; one, a big huge room with dark marble floors in England. 

Back At Winnetka Tech
Jokingly, people referred to my high school as "Winnetka Tech," and in essence that was an amazingly appropriate title for a high school that had an inner group of teachers and faculty whose agenda it was to create "enhanced minds." The high school was a factory of "young adults," as Henry Kissinger called us. In junior high Henry began creating my friend Candy's mind files, but said she was too robotic. Henry said I was a natural and ran smoothly with no rough edges. Then there was Helen, the student who was Girl's President before I was and there was also a male student, whose name I can't remember. Henry worked on them all but I was chosen above all of them because I appeared so natural and All-American, while the others he viewed as too ethnic or too robotical. Henry said he could still use them all at different tasks, but I was the most versatile and would fit into most situations. One of the women astronauts also graduated from Taft High School.

At other times in high school I was driven on those small 'special' Los Angeles School District buses - the kind they used for kids with special needs - to the Van Nuys Airport, or to LAX, or to different heliports on top of buildings in Los Angeles. During the late 60's I was taken out of school often and bused to different places for all sorts of different things; sexually servicing important businessmen or politicians, or meeting Nixon at some place on the beach in California, or meeting Reagan at the Motion Picture Country Hospital, or meeting Bob and his friends somewhere. There were lots of important businessmen in Southern California, Northern California, Sacramento, Santa Barbara, Ojai, San Francisco, San Luis Obispo, Santa Cruz, Carmel, etc., that I was delivered to for sex and to deliver Council messages. Suits, suits, and more suits! I never knew where I was going and the driver of the bus was usually a different person each time. One time the driver was a lady who said she came all the way from the inner city to drive me. She said, "You don't look handicapped to me." I didn't respond, couldn't think to, instead I just walked off the bus and into the courthouse where I was to sexually service and pass a message to some circuit judge. Often I would get out of the special bus and later another special bus would pick me up and I would be taken back to Taft High School. I didn't spend a lot of time in class, but my teachers didn't say anything when I didn't turn in my homework. I don't know why, but they didn't. 

There were times in high school that I was dismissed from classes for an entire week and spent the time traveling internationally with Nixon and Kissinger. While I traveled at times with Nixon, I was programmed to carry Henry's strategic plan for Nixon to tap into, whenever he needed to refresh himself with Henry's plan. I often stayed in hotel rooms, or waited in nearby rooms or the lobby, appearing to be a regular person. Nixon would access me, before, during, or after a meeting, always leaving the sex for much later on. But I was at Nixon's fingertips, armed and loaded with all the possible input and data any one man could ever want. That's how Henry described this when I accompanied Nixon to China, USSR, the Far East, Vietnam talks, etc., always disguised as someone else in order to serve Henry's interests. 

So, in addition to my secret life during my so-called studies at Taft High School, I was flown all over the country and internationally, serving those individuals Kissinger set me up with. I was having routine sex with the health and government teacher, Mr. Saul Rowen, who later became the owner of Cali Camp, an exclusive children's camp in Southern California. Some days when I was at school, during lunchtime, I was filmed pornographically by my brother and others in the photo lab at Taft. And I was having sex, all the while unknown to my conscious personality, with members of the business community, and earned myself the D.A.R. award for service, from the Woodland Hills Rotary Club, upon graduation. 

Rockefeller and Kissinger 

Confer on My Future

Uncle Rocky was my corporate sponsor and was in Henry's office one day when Henry turned to me and said, "My dear, don't you have something to say to Mr. Rockefeller, here?"

"Yes, Sir!" I exclaimed all bubbly and excited. I took his hand and said exactly as Henry had preprogrammed me, "Mr. Rockefeller, I would like to ask you if you would sponsor my further education?" 

"Of course," he said, "I would be most delighted to be a part of your future growth and contribution to mankind." Standing, he went on, "For me to finance your education means that you are now part of my family and any young lady as bright as you are should call me Uncle Rocky," and he shook my hand. Now I knew that he was part of my real family that Uncle Charlie (Charles Lilley Horn) had spoken of. 

My reliability had been tested for several years and I seemed to "graduate" to a higher level of use. What could be higher level than the President of the United States? In my experience, the Council, and certain international individuals like the Rockefellers, was a higher level, standing head and shoulders above the government and United States politicians.

With this 'honor' bestowed upon me, it took just three days for this highest level of programming to be accomplished. I'm not sure where I was taken but the walls in the room I was taken into were white like in a hospital. There was a flat silver metal band that was fitted to the top of my head with adjoining circular outer bars that haloed around it. They coupled that with finger connectors joined to wires that delivered electroshock to my fingers and toes. They sent electroshock first to both of my smallest appendages; my little fingers and toes. Then they simultaneously sent electroshock to my next finger and toe, and continued in succession until all paired appendages had been included. At the same time they delivered the electroshock, they shined different colors of the red spectrum, which went through blue to purple, while they were flashing the light. Next they did the yellow spectrum paired with a different set of fingers and toes. They completed the whole 'rainbow spectrum' using each finger/toe paired in sequence. I overheard them mention something about creating a perfect coordination between not only left and right brain motor symmetry but actual motor functioning, paired with brain wave patterning so that, "the android robot appears perfectly normal and human." I had to sit in this electric chair for what seemed like hours while they did all this to me.

It was also during this time period that I was introduced to Ronald Reagan.

"Faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ." -- Romans 10: 17 

next
Introduced to Governor Ronald Reagan  

FAIR USE NOTICE

This site contains copyrighted material the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. As a journalist, I am making such material available in my efforts to advance understanding of artistic, cultural, historic, religious and political issues. I believe this constitutes a 'fair use' of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law.

In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, the material on this site is distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for research and educational purposes. Copyrighted material can be removed on the request of the owner.