The First Sphere of Influence: Zbigniew Brzezinski and the Family Rothschild
Right now I’m sequestered in an unbelievably comfortable office: a 12-foot-wide custom desk made of sapele I designed and had made; the world’s most comfortable chair, something so ergonomic I could sleep in it; an Apple computer with two big flatscreen monitors; and photos of my wife. To me, this is an ideal work environment, free of noise–unless I crank up Radiohead or Tristeza or Sonic–no clutter, no boss or overlord standing over me, no distractions from the everyday world that’s just outside the walls and doors of our home.
In my own manmade paradise, I should feel blissfully relaxed, happy, and fortunate. But I’m not. My mind–both conscious and subconscious–is racing at the speed of light, sending and receiving hundreds of messages and various inputs from every sector of my brain. I should be curled up with a good book at this hour, nearly 10 pm, but I’m in overdrive, wondering how I’m going to stop The First Sphere of Influence from carrying on.
Simple as that: stop evil from carrying on.
Even now, without aid or backup or any chance of rescue if thugs come for me in my home, I am at peace, one with my surroundings.
In those mad-minute days of security work, I was one with my surroundings, with the air, the warm rain, and the person or persons I was hired to escort and sometimes carry to freedom. I couldn’t see or tell where my hand ended and theirs started, when I grabbed them and dragged them on a forced run through a town or a jungle, fleeing the oppressors who somehow got word of my mission. My strong electric field, I reasoned, deflected the bullets that sometimes flew passed us, always high, thank goodness. Nature and I were one. I couldn’t lose on any level, because even though I had no human support team or backup or the chance of rescue if things went south, nature and all objects and trees and everything I could see was in fluid motion with me, guiding me, sheltering me, protecting me. Again, I was one with . . . everything. I blended in and disappeared, or so I thought. My clients, by virtue of their closeness to me, which was usually hand in hand or arm in arm, also were immune to the senses of our common enemies.
As I think back on those missions thousands of miles from the comfort of my office, then in Santa Barbara, California, paradoxically, I never felt more free, more at ease and peace.
Even now, without aid or backup or any chance of rescue if thugs come for me in my home, I am at peace, one with my surroundings. And with this notion, I do not feel alone. Good thing, too, because I’m going after the greatest threat on the planet, The First Sphere of Influence, which has murdered millions of humans over the past 230 years. This high level of spirituality is my motor. Some people believe in God; I don’t. Some believe in some pagan talisman; I don’t. Some don’t believe in anything at all; I do believe in something greater than I. That something is all of you, those kind souls who read these words that are difficult to swallow. Those decent folk who take the time to write me and tell me about themselves, what they think about the state of our country, and how much they appreciate what some of us are doing to fight tyranny. My spirituality comes from being one with everything, including each of you. I get my strength from knowing you are at least reading this and considering its gravity. I am comforted by your words of encouragement, MK, Fish Man, Javier, Alex, Brian, John, and hundreds of others’ thoughts, ideas, beliefs.
From an impossibly small amount of mass we can get an impossibly large amount of energy. We built the atomic bomb on this notion, and tested it on atolls in the Pacific, wooden huts in the Nevada desert, and on cities in Japan.
What The First Sphere of Influence does not realize is that each of us is capable of unleashing untold power and energy and, when directed and focused just right, can level a city or a mountain.
Dr. Brzezinski and Mssrs. Rothschild bank on our not being able to muster the courage, let alone numbers, to defeat them.
Dr. Brzezinski and Mssrs. Rothschild bank on our not being able to muster the courage, let alone numbers, to defeat them. He laughs at insignificant people like me. Hey, I’m used to being looked at as a zero. Makes it easier to blend into thin air. The arrogance of fascists has played out in violence over the centuries, and that violence has been visited upon them. Like I’ve said before, fascism doesn’t last. Socialism doesn’t last. Communism doesn’t last. Life finds a way to be free. It’s soft-wired into the DNA and RNA of all living things. Try containing a mutant strain of bacteria and what happens? It mutates even further, thus rendering your antibiotic as useless as wet toilet paper. MRSA is a prime example. Ever tried to kill a wood-eating fungus under your house? You’ll always lose. If it doesn’t have dead trees to munch on and reduce to mush, then it goes for the wood frame that holds your house together. It spreads into the walls and floors, up into the roof and under the driveway, until it consumes all the cellulose on your property. Try oppressing a gang of rats that propagate each month and you get a bunch of pissed-off super-rats that invade your home silently and tear it to pieces from the inside out.
Life finds a way to escape the bonds of oppression and, when it does, comes back with a vengeance. It’s called the “rebound effect” and it’s kick-ass to watch.
So how is it that the world’s most prolific con-artists, The First Sphere of Influence, don’t know about basic evolution on this planet?
So how is it that the world’s most prolific con-artists, The First Sphere of Influence, don’t know about basic evolution on this planet? In their own arrogance, they don’t care. Why would they? They’ve ridden roughshod over billions of humans and other life forms for centuries, without significant resistance to stop them completely. When they have been thwarted, they regroup and come back at you from another direction and with a new set of tools. But they’ve yet to be stopped.
In my own arrogance, I think I can stop them. I go to bed at night, dreaming of a special nanovirus that someone gives me. Then someone else flies me over to ZB’s home in McLean, Virginia and to the Rothschild abodes in London and I spray them with this nanovirus that consumes them in minutes. All gone. Someone else then flies me back home and tucks me back into bed, even before my wife awakens.
And then I wake up from my killing reverie and say, “Okay, now what, Dean?”
Good question: now what?
In the coming months, I’ll share with you that what. What I can do. What you can do.
I’m not in this alone, and I thank you for that. . . .
