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#Post#: 33210--------------------------------------------------
The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:11 am
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TOP SECRET
CONTROLLED PROGRAM INFORMATION --ACCESS LIST D
ENCODED GLYPHSCRIPT ONLY
THIS REPORT CANNOT BE PUT INTO ANY OTHER MEDIA FORM WITHOUT
CENTRAL ACCESS PERMISSION.
SCI/SCIF-POTOMAC
SCI/SCIF-PARKHAM
SCI/SCIF-CHEYENNE
SUMMARY REPORT 20220722
ARCHON DIRECTORATE
20220722-1425 1015GMT—BUNKER JOINT BASE ANDREWS
[1-1]GENERAL PROGRAM SECURITY STATUS IS UNCHANGED. PROGRAM
SECURITY HAS BEEN DETERMINED BY INTERNAL AFFAIRS TO BE SOUND.
EXTERNAL AFFAIRS REPORTS CONGRESSIONAL, WHITE HOUSE AND
JUDICIARY SECURITY ARE AT CONDITION GREEN.
[1-2]GIVEN THAT FORMER PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP IS STILL A
SECURITY THREAT TO THE COUNTRY AND TO ESTABLISHED CONSTITUTIONAL
GOVERNMENT, THE DECISION REMAINS IN PLACE THAT THE MIND LOCK
SHALL NOT BE REMOVED FROM HIM AND FROM THOSE OTHER FORMER
ADMINISTRATION OFFICIALS STILL IDENTIFIED ON THE WATCH LIST AS A
THREAT TO PROGRAM SECURITY (SEE ATTACHMENT FILE ONE).
[2-1]GROUP MIND POTOMAC CONFIRMS THAT THE MIND LOCK EMPLACED ON
FORMER PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP BY PSION ADRIAN STEMPLE REMAINS
SOUND. GROUP MIND POTOMAC (GMP) CONFIRMS THAT ITS SEALS ARE
INTACT AND THAT ITS FUNCTIONING DIAGNOSTICS ARE WITHIN
PARAMETERS.
THE LUCIDITY TEMPLATE ENABLING THE FORMER PRESIDENT TO MORE
RATIONALLY INTERACT WITH PSION ADRIAN STEMPLE IS NOW NO LONGER
USEFUL FOR PROGRAM SECURITY SINCE INTERACTIONS BETWEEN THE
FORMER PRESIDENT TRUMP AND PSION ADRIAN STEMPLE WILL CEASE AS OF
NOVEMBER 2022.
[2-2]THE ARCHON DIRECTORATE HAS DETERMINED THAT THIS LUCIDITY
TEMPLATE MUST BE REMOVED FROM THE MIND LOCK ALLOWING THE
PRESIDENT’S EXISTENT DETERIORATION TO NATURALLY PROCEED AT ITS
NORMAL PACE (SEE ATTACHMENT FILE TWO).
[2-3]THEREFORE, THE ARCHON DIRECTORATE, IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE
IKORRCENI PREFECTURE, MANDATES AND DIRECTS THAT PSION ADRIAN
STEMPLE REMOVE THE LUCIDITY TEMPLATE FROM THE FORMER PRESIDENT’S
MIND AT THE FIRST CONVENIENT OPPORTUNITY. THIS OPERATION IS TO
BE DIRECTED BY SECRET SERVICE SUPERVISOR, INVESTIGATIVE
PROTECTION OFFICER, MICHAEL COLLINS, AS SOON AS THE FINAL PLAN
IS APPROVED.
[2-4]THE DIRECTORATE HAS DETERMINED THAT PSION ADRIAN STEMPLE
BE PERMITTED TO CARRY WITHIN HIS PSIONIC PARA-DIMENSIONAL KARG
TEMPLATE, A PREFECT ANALOG THAT CAN SUPPRESS THE ANTI-PSIONIC
FIELD AROUND THE PRESIDENT. THE DIRECTORATE HAS ALSO DETERMINED
THAT MR. STEMPLE MAY ONLY UTILIZE THE ANALOG TO CAVITATE THE
PROTECTIVE ANTI-PSIONIC FIELD WITHIN THE PROXIMITY OF THE FORMER
PRESIDENT TO REMOVE THE LUCIDITY TEMPLATE FROM THE PRESIDENT’S
MIND. DURING THIS OPERATION, THE OUTWARD SHELL OF THE
ANTI-PSIONIC FIELD IS TO REMAIN EMPLACED TO PRESERVE THE
CLANDESTINITY OF THIS OPERATIONAL CAVITATION FROM ANY FREEHOLD
MENTALISTS WHO MAY HAPPEN TO BE PRESENT IN THE VICINITY OF PALM
BEACH. (SEE ATTACHMENT FILE THREE).
[3-1]EVALUATION-TEAM EAST’S MAIN EVALUATION OF THE
EX-PRESIDENT’S MENTAL STATE IS UNCHANGED. EVAL-TE HAS
DETERMINED THAT THE EX-PRESIDENT IS CONTINUING TO SUFFER MENTAL
DETERIORATION WITHIN TWO PREDOMINATE FORMS: 1) THE FORM OF
EPISODIC AND PROGRESSIVE MILD DEMENTIA, WHICH INTERFERES WITH
HIS DAILY ACTIVITIES. CONFIRMED CONTINUING SIGNIFICANT
BEHAVIORAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE FORMER PRESIDENT INCLUDE
IMPRESSIONISTIC THINKING, PROBLEMS IN CONCENTRATION AND FOCUSED
ATTENTION, A DECLINE IN DISCURSIVE THINKING, AN AVOIDANCE OF
READING, WHICH INCLUDES IMPORTANT LEGAL BRIEFS AND PERSONAL
PAPERS, AND AN INABILITY TO MAKE IMPORTANT DECISIONS CONCERNING
COMPLEX MATTERS. 2) THE FORM OF LONGSTANDING, LIFELONG
PATHOLOGICAL NARCISSISM THAT COMPELS HIM TO NEGLECT AND/OR TO
SUBVERT COMMONLY HELD MORAL NORMS, THE LAW, AND THE DUTIES OF
HIS CURRENT STATION AND FORMER OFFICE. REFERENCE FOR THIS ARE
FOUND IN THE LAST GIVEN REPORTS SUPPLIED BY LIASONS FBI/CSS AND
JCS/CSSE (SEE ATTACHMENT FILE FOUR).
[4]FBI/CSS AND JCS/CSSE REPORT NO INFORMATION SUPPLIED REGARDING
CURRENT JUDICIAL INVESTIGATIONS AND OTHER MATTERS CONCERNING THE
FORMER PRESIDENT, ESPECIALLY CLASSIFIED DOCUMENTATION RETRIEVED
FROM VARIOUS TRUMP PROPERTIES. DESPITE THIS, AT THIS TIME,
DEPARTMENTAL ORDERS HAVE BEEN ISSUED AND THE SECURITY LEVEL IS
ENCODED YELLOW. GIVEN THE CONTINUED POSSIBLITY THAT THE FORMER
PRESIDENT MAY HAVE BEEN COMPROMISED BY CRIMINAL ENTITIES AND/OR
FOREIGN GOVERNMENTS AND MAY NOT BE HIS OWN MASTER, THE EMPLACED
PROCEDURAL ACTIONS FOR SECURITY IN THE EVENT OF A MAJOR HOSTILE
PENETRATION OF GOVERNMENT ARE STILL CONSIDERED ACTIVE (SEE
ATTACHMENT FILE FIVE).
ATTACHMENTS:
FILE ONE: CURRENT PROGRAM SECURITY 20220222
FILE TWO: CURRENT MENTAL LOCK STATUS OF FPOTUS
FILE THREE: MEETING PARAMETERS BETWEEN FPOTUS AND IKORCENI
STEMPLE
FILE FOUR: CURRENT MENTAL OF FPOTUS
FILE FIVE: CURRENT STATUS RELEVANT JUDICIAL
INVESTIGATIONS/SECURITY REQUIREMENTS
GYPHSIGNATURES DIRECTORATE RECORDED BELOW
SECRETARY, FIRST ARCHON 19660318-SN227
DIRECTORATE CONFIRMS FINAL SUMMARY REPORT W/ATTACHMENTS
20220722-1425 1015GMT—BUNKER JOINT BASE ANDREWS
CONTROLLED PROGRAM INFORMATION - - ACCESS LIST D
TOP SECRET
Newport, Oregon & Mar a Lago, Florida
Late October 2022
Mack Stemple had always enjoyed Newport, Oregon. His visit this
morning was much the same for many years. He had enjoyed his
morning breakfast of razorback clams with fried eggs, hash
browns and toast, at Aunt Macey’s Eatery, on SW Bay Boulevard, a
popular local restaurant that looked out over the anchorage, and
bay, of this sleepy coastal Oregon town. Because of his ability
to teleport, he had known many fine places and their restaurants
over the years.
It was going to be a fine morning along the coast, he thought,
as he stepped out onto the boulevard into the early morning
light after it had stopped raining and the air was cool. The
fog had blown out to sea and the temperatures were still in the
middle 40s. He could see from the few people on the boulevard
that they were comfortable in the morning chill, wearing their
hooded, wool-lined windbreakers. Soon that would change when
the winter rains would come. Then the coastal people would be
switching over to warmer hooded jackets and raincoats.
Mack Stemple walked down the boulevard, enjoying the fresh sea
air. As he walked along, he occasionally stopped and window
shopped the various shops and stores that were along the
boulevard. As he did so, he thought back upon the memories of
his past.
He was thankful for his psionic abilities. With teleportation,
he was well-traveled. With telepathy, he could listen to many
people’s thoughts and experience their memories. One could gain
a certain wisdom in that, he thought. Pausing in his walk, he
faintly sensed the sounds, the brain pulses of many people in
his immediate area. Making the usual, precautionary area scan,
he expanded his psionic awareness out to about 1600 meters,
about a mile. In his mind, he could faintly sense the outline
of the maze of buildings that stretched inland from the
boulevard, as well as of the ships and docks of the harbor. He
could hear the sound of most of the brain pulses in that area.
Many times, because of his scans, he had escaped the dangers
that were found in many places he had visited.
Mack had spent a lifetime living in a way largely hidden from
ordinary people. He was once ordinary himself, a normal young
boy. His elementary school days were very much like his
classmates. He had the usual joys and hurts. To his surprise
he began to change during his junior high school years. He
first began to develop various telepathic gifts that provided to
him both pleasant and unpleasant advantages over his classmates.
Soon other psionic gifts followed.
He remembered those autumn days of long ago when he was
approached by strangers, who were also psionics, various Star
People elders, who knew what he was going through, and who would
help him in his adjustment to his new powers. They would teach
him many things. They would tell him that he would live, very
likely, for a thousand years. They advised that at the twilight
of a normal human life span, he would turn his interests
outward, and would finally leave Earth, going off into the
marvel and mystery of the Star People’s far flung stellar
civilization.
As he walked along the boulevard, he realized that those days
had come. He was now in that human twilight. His parents were
dead and also his wife, Callie, who died several decades ago in
a car accident. She was a woman to be grieved. A shrewd,
independent, educated, coastal Washington state woman, Callie,
her curious full name, Calanthe Poulain, was many things, an
intriguing, even a highly erotic, woman. She was short, five
feet five inches tall, small pert breasts, boyish hips and
figure. Unlike her friends, she was a daring woman, wearing
halter tops and short cutoff denim shorts, despite the cool
weather that was found along the Washington coast. Her short,
blond hair was invariably in the form of a page boy haircut.
Until Mack had met Callie, he wasn’t conscious of the fact that
there was more than one form of that kind of haircut. Mack
rarely delved into his eidetic memory. As he remembered, some
page boy styles were longer, others were shorter, and Mack had
loved them all. This hairstyle was a style she had chosen when
she was young, and it suited her well. Callie was an
enthusiastic swimmer. While young, she could be found swimming
at local municipal pools, marveling the boys by her formidable
athletic skills, her enthusiasm, and an atypical fine body
muscle tone that made other, more beautiful women, envious.
Mack reflected that Callie sometimes had the youthful pretty
girl’s awkwardness in the presence of truly beautiful women.
Callie weathered that awkwardness well. She had that advantage
that pretty girls eventually knew. She understood that an
erotic, pretty woman could many times, be much more interesting
to men than many beautiful woman. Men were generally less
intimidated by a pretty, compared to a beautiful, woman. To
Mack, smitten by her charms, she was not merely pretty, she was
beautiful, mystery to him. She was a psi-blank and Mack
couldn’t read her mind. He loved every moment of his life with
her and was heart-broken for years after her death. It was a
somber day when he had scattered her ashes from a helicopter off
the shores of Whidbey Island, a place which they had both loved.
Then there were the others that had died. His good friends in
New York, Preston and Sheryl Callendar were now dead. They both
died last month, their deaths only several weeks from each
other. Mack had attended their funeral on Long Island, in the
presence of their sons, their wives, and their children. He was
pleased that that family had drawn close, which was uncommon
from what Mack had known about the wealthy. He knew that he was
always welcome among the Callendars. Tome, one of his psionic
colleagues, was a friend of one of their sons.
Mack’s mind ranged over the others in his past. His first
junior high school girlfriend, Kaitlyn, he hadn’t seen in
decades. He had lost her to another boy, whom she loved and
later married. Kaitlyn was not like Callie. She was a
genuinely beautiful woman, having long, lustrous black hair and
luminous eyes. She was a mysterious, dour girl, having an
unhappiness that Mack could not understand. Like Callie, she
was also a psi-blank and Mack could never directly know her
thoughts. Though he had lost her, it was good that she had
married his competitor in love, a boy who proved to be a much
better man than he was. Through him, she had many children and
grandchildren. As far as Mack knew, she was now a joyfully,
fulfilled woman, and he wished the best for her and her family.
Mack reflected that most of his other classmates from his
academic years were dead or ailing in rest homes. Most of the
relationships that he had known among the normals were gone.
Much of the world that he had grown up and lived in was, in many
ways, gone. For Mack, the 1960s and 70s were the times he most
identified with.
Nowadays, he felt himself out of place, not being a part of
society, of the world, as he formerly had been. It was as he
had thought. His twilight days had come and he would need to go
off-planet as well. He had spent his last Earth year
off-planet, in another world with a Pleistocene biosphere,
called Lantos 5. Mack felt the desire of returning there, to
Lantosmere, the floating city in the sky of that world.
Compared to the pristine nature of Lantos 5, an entire planetary
preserve, never to be settled or developed, Earth had lost its
luster.
As he walked along, Mack reflected back again upon his security.
The ability to do an area scan made a great difference to his
security. He thought about the maze of buildings that were
within his scan area and the ways he could escape if he was
pursued for some reason. He briefly focused his attention on
that and figured his escape routes from where he was walking.
This was something he was trained to do, habitually, since his
teenage years, after he had acquired many of his powers.
There was little to fear in Newport for people such as him.
Most people were psi-open norms, people that had minds that
psionics could enter into easily and learn their inmost
thoughts, generally without a hint of detection. These minds
could be psionically attacked and represented no danger. There
were others, the psi-blanks, those who had been gifted with
anti-psi minds that a psionic ordinarily could not enter into.
Attempting to use a psionic attack discipline at or around these
people would cause that psi-blank mind to project an anti-psi
damper field some fifty feet or fifteen meters around them.
These persons, if armed with weapons, or had martial arts
training, could be very dangerous. But Mack was prepared to
deal with these people if the need arose.
#Post#: 33211--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:13 am
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Many people, if they know what Mack was, would fear him. Mack
was also someone rare among psionics. He was a Controller. He
had the ability to control the minds of the psi-open around him.
It was a power that Mack had not necessarily wanted, and he
used it rarely. Among the Star People, this skill was heavily
regulated, and he faced an Examen from a Censor every month to
investigate how he had used this special skill. Mack never
wanted to be a Controller. He had always wanted to be a Healer,
but, as it is with life, life serves out many differing,
contrary things. As it is with many, we all go through life,
wanting certain things, and are many times frustrated in our
wants.
Mack did use his psionics on behalf of various secret American
governmental agencies as he was sanctioned by the Star People.
For decades he functioned as a clandestine agent. His most
important activity was when he had used his skill as a
Controller in January, 2017, when he put a mind lock upon the
newly elected American President, Donald Trump. The immediate
cause for doing so was because the the American government
determined that the President was mentally unstable and,
frankly, pathological, with no real, fundamental loyalty to the
country.
Trump was a psi-blank, and given how his mind was resistant to
psionics, it could only be accessed with a psionic construct
called an analog module. And so it was decided, in early 2017
by the leaders of the AAP, the American Anti-Psi Program, the
Archon Directorate, that they needed the help of their potential
adversaries, the Star People, using an analog, to put mental
controls upon the new President. This, the AAP decided, was
needed to prevent any possible disclosure of the existence of
psionics, a fearful result that could lead to serious social and
political consequences in human society. Mack reflected that it
was, operationally, the most unusual mind lock that he had put
upon the president. It was accomplished when he was no longer
in the humanoid form. He was in the pod form when it happened.
He had shape-shifted into the form of a sphere the size of a
child’s marble. This was the most radical of psionic abilities
apart from teleportation. The Star People were shape-shifters,
and the pod form was the most radical of those shapes.
Mack reflected upon the many benefits of the pod form, the
ability of the Star People to shape shift down from the humanoid
form into the form of a sphere, usually around 3 inches or 7.6
centimeters, or even smaller, 1 inch or 2.5 centimeters. In the
sphere form, one could sleep or function in an imagined virtual
reality created by one’s own mind. The virtual reality was, for
most psionics, in the form of a small, comfortably furnished
room with windows and closets. The virtual reality mode
permitted the display of the visual area outside of where the
pod form was located. It meant for a kind of radical camping
life-style for psionics. Mack, many times, had rested for the
night by putting his pod form down at a secluded favorite beach
or island along the Pacific or Atlantic coasts, or onto mountain
ridges secluded from human society. Mack particularly loved
various massif sites in the Bob Marshall Wilderness or in
Glacier Park. In his teenage years, he had loved Knife Blade
Ridge and Greathouse Peak in the Snowy Mountains. These sites
allowed for some spectacular views of the countryside in that
virtual reality. If he was with friends, at the same location,
and if they were telepathically linked together, they could
share the same virtual reality and have a convivial time
together in a shared, common virtual room.
In that virtual setting, one could recharge one’s psionic powers
through the background electromagnetic energy that coursed
through the world. A psionic could also revert back to the
humanoid form physically changed or merely dressed differently
from what he entered into it. The virtual reality allowed one
to change one’s appearance in the real world. Since Mack’s
entire wardrobe was available to him in the virtual reality he
frequently changed clothes, and his pocket litter, on coming
back. In the pod form, he could also fly.
It was a wonderful ability, to be able to fly at one’s will.
When Mack was in his early 20s, he acquired this ability, and,
if he couldn’t teleport to a certain location since he hadn’t
been there before, and put the site into his eidetic memory, and
if he didn’t want to do a telepathic astral projection, he could
travel there by pod flight. All psionic pods could fly at a
certain point in psionic development. Eventually, everyone in
the pod form could attain supersonic flight, even spaceflight.
Like teleportation, it was something that had radically changed
his life.
Mack came out of his thoughts as he walked along the boulevard.
That was five years ago. He crossed the boulevard and went up
to a bench next to the shore overlooking the bay. He was
grateful for the warmth of the sun and the bracing cool air. As
he sat down, he was pleased to watch the harbor seals leaping
and cavorting in the harbor, feeding on the swarms of fish he
sensed telepathically. In the distance, he could also see
pelicans further out in the bay, also feeding. He enjoyed the
fresh, bracing air in the morning quiet.
The quiet was welcome. He let the silence come over him and his
thoughts receded into the background as he enjoyed the vista
before him. He watched the seagulls as they passed above and
before him, occasionally diving into the water, snatching up
prey, their cries breaking briefly the silence of the moment.
Mack watched the luminous rills of water, reflecting the bright
morning light, moved across the bay and seemed kind of hypnotic
movement that was comforting to his eyes. There was little
traffic on the road behind him.
Flight was a great joy for him, Mack reflected. It was a
fascinating moment in his life when he emplaced the mind lock on
the former president. Mack rarely used the pod form for flight
in the busy skies of Earth. Very few of the Star People did so,
for most were not comfortable with flying on a planetary surface
that had a lot of aircraft, though the aircraft were of little
danger to them. It was no problem for Mack, when he was flying
at a subsonic speed in that form, when he emplaced the mind lock
onto Donald Trump, when the newly-elected President was flying
from Washington DC to his home in Florida. Mack remembered that
the President was eating a hamburger at the time. No one had
seen the faint disturbance in the air that Mack’s pod form made
in its flight to Air Force One.
Mack was pleased how it was accomplished. The President’s
plane, Air Force One, was flying south at 35,000 feet. The
President was guarded by two Air Force F-15s that were flying
parallel behind and above the presidential plane by several
thousand feet. It was sometimes said that Trump was annoyed
that his fighter escort didn’t fly alongside Air Force One so
that he could see them.
Mack, flying at Mach 3 in stealth mode, encountered the
Presidential plane and its two escorts above Raleigh, North
Carolina. While he was in stealth mode, he was very hard to see
since his disturbance in the air was minimal. He was
undetectable by radar. If he wasn’t in stealth mode, he would
have been detected immediately and classed as some kind of
missile that had come out of nowhere.
Mack swooped down from 51,000 feet between the two fighters
flying at 47,000 feet. Mack then went behind and then
underneath Air Force One. He flew up to the front of the bottom
of the plane where, in his cabin, the President was eating his
hamburger and fries. When Group Mind Potomac, as part of the
Secret Service, dropped its anti-psi damper field, Mack locked
onto the President’s mind. When he sensed America’s most
powerful group mind, Group Mind Potomac following his
consciousness, Mack entered Trump’s mind and emplaced the mind
lock, putting in the lucidity feature. After Group Mind Potomac
confirmed that the seals to the mind lock were sound and
unbroken, Mack broke away from the plane formation and abruptly
teleported to walk again in his favorite haunts around Pike’s
Market in Seattle. He was later happy to learn that the mind
lock was functioning in the manner desired by those in authority
who wanted it.
As he sat on the bench, overlooking the bay at Newport, enjoying
the wind and sea air, Mack wondered if he should go to a quiet
place behind a building along the boulevard and drop down into
the pod form to change clothes to be more comfortably dressed
when he teleported to Florida. The air would be hot and muggy
there. Usually the winds would be warm blowing inland from off
the Atlantic. Palm Beach was usually a comfortable place, being
an island, and, of course, Mar a Lago itself would be
comfortably air-conditioned.
He had been to Mar a Lago a number of times before, and it was
annoying to coming near to Trump again, even if he was needed to
remove the lucidity template of Trump’s mind lock. Why not
leave the template in place? The lucidity template enabled
Trump to think more clearly only when Mack was in his presence.
And Mack’s coming into Trump’s presence was very rare.
The lucidity template created a biostasis that protected Trump’s
brain biologically in that it slowed the rate of his mental
deterioration. But Trump’s mind was deteriorating anyway. If
Mack stayed away, Trump’s mind would continue to deteriorate.
Perhaps the Archon Directorate wanted Trump to mentally decline
faster. Removing the template’s biostasis could certainly cause
a more rapid deterioration. Perhaps that’s what the Archons
actually wanted. If this was so, Mack wondered if this was
advisable.
Mack had to wonder, should the mind lock have ever happened? It
would not have happened unless the Archon Directorate had been
so demanding for it. Given the precarious nature of having
America, a planetary superpower, led by an unstable, inadequate
man, and other, calculating, unscrupulous men, the Star People
ultimately decided that the American Anti-Psi Program had to be
supported in this. And so it came to be that the President’s
mind, along with the others, had to be locked down for global
anti-psionic security.
Ordinarily, psionics would be unable to enter the mind of a
psi-blank, but Mack was given permission to use a military grade
Prefect analog module, something usually used off-planet, to
augment his own psionic abilities. This enabled him to
overpower Trump’s anti-psi defenses, even the advanced anti-psi
damper fields that the AAP could employ to defend the United
States. Mack felt that the whole situation was strange, very
strange. Potential adversaries were helping each other keep
secret the existence of psionics from the rest of human society.
No doubt, it had been quietly argued among the Archons of the
AAP, the nature and intensity of the mind lock, and the level of
control that was desirable.
There were actually two forms of intensity in mind control; they
were called, respectively, heavy and light. Heavy mind control
involves the heavy-handed control over a person’s mind, usually
calling for the person controlled, into doing things that
violated the controlled persons goals and values. These
compulsions could involve extreme things such as murder, theft,
suicide, et cetera. Given that the mind control command matrix
for these compulsions are put into a person’s subconscious,
these strong compulsions, if they exist for a long time, can
cause a mental disintegration for the person so affected. The
compulsions, futilely warred against, shut out the ability of a
person to live normally. Heavy mind control, though, does not
permit a long life. Light mind control is different, which
involves minor compulsions, not involving personal values dear
to the person affected. These compulsions cause little harm to
the affected, controlled person. This is the form of mental
control or mind lock that was decided upon for Trump. Trump
would have a mind lock that would allow minimal light mind
control but would achieve the desired result for American
security. Mack wondered what he would have done if the Archon
Directorate had demanded a heavy mind control of some type that
meant the rapid mental destruction of the President.
Mack reflected how much his psionic gifts had changed him, some
for the good and some bad. Sometimes his psionic gifts were a
cause of a certain alienation from human existence. It had
helped him to live after a dark, bitter childhood. He had
suffered child abuse from his father. That was how it was with
much of human experience. There is the good and the bad, the
distance and relation between beings and things. We are never
immediately connected to what is around us. How do we make the
things that exist in our lives, fit as they ought?
How do things fit? Mack wondered. This was that anguish on how
normals fare in their experience of war. Mack had experienced
war in Vietnam during the Tet Offensive, and so he came to that
pain as well. Soldiers, upon deployment, see many strange sites
and alien societies that cause great wonder. Then there are the
wonder of modern weapons and their destructiveness. Then there
are the horrors of war. One finds out that one may be imbued
with power, even great power, but one still finds oneself very
small in the immensity of the universe.
He sat in silence and thought of the people that he had known
over the years and how that most of them were now dead. He
thought of the faces of the young girls and the women. He
thought of the faces of the murderers he helped to arrest, or
even to kill. There had been a lot of joy and pain in this
world. That was the way it was with psionics, even those many
that were now off-planet, small in the immensity of the
universe. Even in an interstellar civilization, everyone is
part and parcel of the rest of humanity. Life is a great
mystery.
Mack sat in the sun and silence. He let the silence deepen
around him, enjoying the cold wind and warm sun until it was to
go to Mar a Lago and beyond.
When the time came, Mack looked down at his hooded, lined
windbreaker. He decided that before he’d go, he would need to
change. He would remove and put his jacket into karg storage.
He got up and walked back across the boulevard and went into an
area behind one of the shops where he was hidden from view. He
then focused on the teleport site in West Palm Beach, Florida.
As it mentally came into focus, his chosen site was an underpass
of Interstate 95, on Mercer Avenue. He sensed that the
temperature there was in the upper 70s. The air was moderate
and a light breeze was blowing. Mack focused more deeply and
was soon able to mentally peer out from the teleport site, which
was next to a concrete column which would visually conceal his
teleport arrival. Telepathically, he looked up the length of
concrete columns one way; and then down the other. He didn’t
see anyone. The underpass was empty of people.
Now he decided upon doing a limited passive telepathic scan, to
a quarter of a mile or around 400 meters from his chosen
teleportal site in West Palm Beach. He faintly sensed the faint
outline of the buildings that extended out from his site in the
underpass. He sensed the brain pulses of the people that were
in the area. He then sensed the radio traffic. He listened in
on the usual police chatter that didn’t involve Mercer Avenue.
A fire department was more interesting. Briefly, Mack listened
to radio chatter involving an emergency situation concerning a
fire to the east of the site in West Palm Beach. He focused
again on the brain pulses of the people within the scan area.
He sensed nothing unusual. Most likely, the people he was to
meet, the Secret Service, would have their agents immediately
outside his scan area at the agreed rendezvous site, which was
close to a mile away towards the east. They would possibly be
able to sense him when he arrived by teleportation. That, of
course, was part of the plan.
His presence would be detected fairly soon after his arrival.
The Secret Service cowls knew the sound of his brain pulse.
They would be powerful. One of their number would be linked to
Group Mind Potomac which was located back in Washington DC.
This group mind could have, possibly, as much as thirty minds
linked together, making it the most powerful group mind
controlled by the AAP in the United States.
Mack decided to proceed. He took off his windbreaker and gave
another long look at Newport and the distant harbor. Would he
ever return here? He draped it over his left arm and teleported
the windbreaker into one of his kargs, or personal
paradimensional storage bays. With his hands and arms free, for
a moment he felt the cold air of Newport harbor and then,
smiling, he teleported.
#Post#: 33212--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:15 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Having arrived at West Palm Beach, Mack found himself standing
in the shade next to a column under the underpass beneath the
very busy Interstate U.S. Highway 95, next to Mercer Avenue,
which went through the underpass below that busy Interstate.
Not unexpectedly, the hot and humid air, pungent with the odor
of automobiles and tropical vegetation hit him immediately, very
different from the clear, crisp, clean cold ocean air of
Newport, Oregon. Mack had expected this. He had been here
before, recalling having used this teleport site several times
before, coming to Florida. He had found and mentally saved this
site when he was looking for teleport locations during an astral
projection in the 1980s.
Mack didn’t immediately sense the light, cool telepathic touch
of a mentalist passively scanning his area. He had expected it
since he was within five miles of Trump’s Mar a Lago. This
meant that he had arrived undetected. He departed his ingress
point next to the column and walked northeast, walking along the
railroad tracks and to one of the Stub Canals until he came to
Boyd Street. Crossing the railroad tracks, he walked along the
canal and crossed the remains of the old Boyd Street Bridge, now
covered with grass, and now closed to everything except
pedestrian traffic. He was momentarily struck by the fetid odor
of the canal. Going onto Charles Street, he headed east,
walking briskly, passing a small church, observing many of the
people in this residential area out tending gardens and lawns,
something that had to be done year-round in Florida. At this
point he withdrew his surface thoughts behind a screen or façade
of fabricated surface thoughts meant to deceive any telepath who
should happen to start listening to his thoughts. The thoughts
were that of an old man out on a late morning walk, and his many
pleasures fishing for catfish in northern Florida. They were
meant to be boring and to cause a telepath to quickly lose
interest in him. It’s worked many times before, thought Mack.
As he came to Parker Avenue, he heading south, reducing his
walking pace as he approached the rendezvous site. After
several minutes, after reaching Upland Road, he sensed the faint
touch of another telepathic mind. He was now being scanned.
The telepath wasn’t too far away. The source of the telepathy
was at the agreed rendezvous site, a parking lot three blocks
away on Belvedere Avenue. Soon another mind came into contact
with his mind. Behind this mind, Mack sensed other minds, the
American government’s most feared group mind, Group Mind
Potomac. This had to be Deputy U.S. Marshal Devin, whom Mack
was advised, was serving as the actuary of Group Mind Potomac,
whose members were in Washington D.C. The group mind listened
briefly to Mack’s thought façade and Mack sensed a fleeting
mistrust of the façade. If Mack was a fugitive from their
custody, this mistrust would indicate that it was time for Mack
to soon deploy a smoke canister and teleport away to safety
before a psi-damper field would be deployed around him. But
since he was expected at the rendezvous, he continued walking.
The government minds remained trained on him, listening to the
fabricated old man’s memories of fishing catfish, and of the
meals he’s had, the Cajun seasonings, then other images of
memories of the women the old man knew, thoughts of their
nakedness and spirit of independence. Mack was quite proud of
this façade. He had spent several hours preparing it, as he had
with several dozen other facades, a skill needed for psionics to
survive in more hostile areas. Soon Mack could see several men
standing on the sidewalk at Belvedere Avenue. One of them was
watching him with a pair of binoculars. Mack, at this point,
dropped the façade but kept his thoughts shielded behind a white
noise screen usually the sound heard by psionics when the
focused on psi-blanks and other persons with various mental
conditions. One of the meeting conditions that Mack was
permitted was to keep his mind shielded, until needed, while he
was in the presence of cowls, government mentalists. Since
everyone was now in line of sight, they’d be able to keep their
telepathy covert, tunneling the telepathy in a specific
direction, in a line of sight orientation.
Hello, Mack. I advise site condition is Code Green. It was
Devin and his telepathy was crisp and clear. The code indicated
that the group mind had scanned the site for several hours and
had not detected any mentalist activity in the area by freehold
mentalists, those capable of telepathy but who hadn’t been
drafted into government service. Some of them could be lurking
around the wealthy of Palm Beach and West Palm Beach areas.
Mack could also sense the confidence and the pleasure behind the
group mind. Mack was also aware of something else. The cowls
had a definite power advantage over him, something which was
usually the other way around.
U.S. Marshal James Devin, a man greatly respected by Mack, was a
typical, athletic mentalist, 5’9”, in his 30s, light yellow polo
shirt, brown pants, light gray windbreaker. He’d been in the
USMS for seven years, working very quietly in the AAP. He will
be the cowl to monitor Mack in entering Trump’s mind. He would
also be the actuary of Group Mind Potomac, America’s largest and
most powerful group mind which was back in Washington D.C. Mack
knew that Devin respected and trusted him, but since Mack, a
full psionic, soon to be able to be rated for interstellar
service, Devin would be wary of Mack’s power.
As he came closer into view, more within line of sight telepathy
which cannot be overheard by other telepaths, Mack responded,
Hello, Devin. Hello, Group Mind Potomac. After a few minutes
and brisk walking, Mack finally arrived at Belvedere Avenue and
approached the men at the parking lot. At this point telepathic
silence would be maintained.
In front of him, was Marshal James Devin. He could see that
James was little changed in the last three years. James had
dark hair, broad shoulders, and a no-nonsense look about him.
Mack could sense behind the screened mind of James the patina of
a multiplicity of other minds. He sensed the sheer power of
that group mind. Next to him was a tall, thin man, gray haired
man, Michael Collins, the Secret Service supervisor, an aprator,
a man who could mentally suppress psionic activity to a distance
of 150 meters around him. Mack had met Michael before. The
third man, supposedly a Secret Service man, named Brooks, was
also a cowl. Mack suspected that he was not mentally linked
into Group Mind Potomac. This, no doubt, was because he was to
serve as an observer to what Mack and Group Mind Potomac were
going to do at Mar a Lago.
He looked again at the leader of this team, Michael Collins,
tall, at 6’2”, in his 50s, thin, but not as wiry as Devin,
wearing a light gray summer suit with matching lighter gray
tie. He’s been in the Secret Service, Presidential Detail, for
almost 20 years He had served under Presidents George W. Bush,
Barack Obama, and lastly, under Donald Trump. That he had
survived continuous employment under Trump was a wonder, given
that Trump had done his best to undermine the integrity and
inner security of the Secret Service. Collins was a man who did
not suffer fools gladly, a man who would not to mince his words.
No doubt he had crossed Trump over the years and gotten away
with it. Collins said what he thought, to anyone if it was a
matter he felt the matter important. He considered Trump’s
character and actions disgraceful, debasing both to himself and
his office. It was remarkable that Trump hadn’t fired him.
Agent Sam Brooks, who stood next to the Secret Service car, was
another mentalist, skilled in telepathy, was a man that Mack
knew slightly. He was a bald-headed man, stockier, supposedly
hardened by martial arts. He was in his thirties. In his face
and manner he looked like a hard man. He would monitor Mack and
Group Mind Potomac as they entered the former President’s mind.
After shaking hands with these men, they went to the Secret
Service car for the trip to Mar a Lago. After they got in,
Collins reviewed the ground rules to the visit to Mar a Lago.
These rules were to be followed without exception. Collins
empathized the obvious, “We’re under the strictest security.
Our car has been swept by electronic and telepathic means. From
this point on, your cell phone should be turned off.”
“I don’t have one,” said Mack. He did have a burn phone in a
karg in his personal paradimensional storage. It was not
accessible in this universe.
Collins continued. “While at Mar a Lago, we’re not to say
anything that will reveal anything about the AAP. In future
years, our conversations on video will be lip read by
historians.”
Mack nodded at that. All of the men knew that this was already
occurring with historical films and video. The men lapsed into
silence as Agent Brooks started the car and soon had it going
towards Mar a Lago.
Mack reflected on the pretextual basis of their presence at Mar
a Lago, which involved an incident when Mack was physically
assaulted at Mar a Lago by Trump’s bodyguard, Milo Doubek, in
2018. The plan was very simple. After their arrival, they
would walk down the same sidewalk where Mack was assaulted by
Milo Doubek. At that point, Mack would be asked some questions
concerning that assault. In his briefing at the Prefecture of
the Star People, he was warned that they could possibly be
observed by the former President from the windows of his office.
It could be possible that Trump may want to directly see Mack
again, though Mack has caused the former President aggravation,
and had no desire to see him. This was not operationally
necessary or to be sought. Their operational task was to remain
distant and complete it, a quick in and out.
After the brief questioning under Trump’s window, they would
enter Mar a Lago itself and transit the building to enter onto
the courtyard plaza that overlooked the swimming pool between
the buildings to the north. At that place, at one of the
tables, the men would sit and have a drink. Mack and Group Mind
Potomac through Devin, would psionically invade Trump’s mind and
removed the lucidity template of the mind lock. Mack would
cavitate through the psi-damper screen which surrounded much of
Mar a Lago, with Group Mind Potomac following, monitoring
everything that he would do. When the penetration of Trump’s
mind had been completed, and the lucidity feature from Trump’s
mind had been removed, the AAP would then drop the psi-damper
screen. The psi-damper screen would remain up during the
penetration of Trump’s mind to preserve clandestinity. If there
was a stray non-governmental mentalist somewhere close in West
Palm Beach, or in Palm Beach itself, the team would remain
undetected in their telepathic activity towards the President.
After this, the team would depart Mar a Lago. The Secret
Service would reduce its anti-psi contingent. All psi-damper
screens around the former president would be withdrawn and Trump
would, unknowingly, be left defended only by the natural
anti-psi defense that is inherent in his own mind. After that,
Mack would have a luncheon with the team at a restaurant in West
Palm Beach before his teleportive egression.
The men remained silent for the remainder of their trip to Mar a
Lago. Mack wondered how Trump was coping with the seizure of
all the government documents he had stolen when he had left
office. From what he’d heard on the news, over a hundred of the
documents were highly classified. He wondered how many were
copied and sold, and now in the hands of the Russians or other
countries. Mar a Lago was a security nightmare. Trump cared
little about security other than immediately about his person.
Mack psionically listened in on the police and emergency bands
and the occasional phone calls coming from wealthy persons in
large limousines that occasionally passed by. The conversations
were desultory, nothing of interest, except for the young woman
in the convertible after they had crossed Bingham Island. She
was highly creative and artful in her love talk to a friend in
West Palm Beach.
Soon Mar a Lago, the creation of socialite Marjorie Merriweather
Post, came into view, and it was as grand as Mack remembered it.
From the car, the men could see the white walls and the
distinctive tan clay roof tiles for which it is well known. Its
adapted Hispano-Moresque style was, to Mack’s knowledge, unique
in its scale in Palm Beach. The rare Doria stone from Genoa,
used for its white wall facing was noteworthy. The
Mediterranean-style villa had a two story family structure,
whose first floor, Mack and the security men knew from prior
experience. The ocean façade of the house was largely
rectangular and Mack was familiar with that as well. He and his
friend, Preston Callendar several decades ago, had also walked
along its west side, along the crescent shaped line of cloisters
that faced towards Lake Worth. He, Preston and his wife were a
lot younger back then.
When the Secret Service car passed the security checkpoint at
Mar a Lago, they parked very close to where they had parked when
Mack was brought to the mansion back in 2018. As they walked up
the sidewalk, Collins asked Mack the usual questions about
Doubek and the assault that Mack had suffered in front of the
windows of Trump’s office. Mack answered the questions, and
emphasized how he avoided striking Doubek prior to grappling him
and throwing him to the ground. None of the men looked towards
Trump’s office windows.
When the agreed questions were answered, the men entered the Mar
a Lago mansion by the private entrance at the end of the
sidewalk. Passing down a corridor, whose ceiling was graced
with scrolled motifs of gold, they came upon an ornate, gilded
room, and going through several large tall mahogany double
doors, they proceeded down another corridor and exited the
building again into a delightful shaded, tree-lined plaza that
overlooking the fountain and the swimming pool to the west.
There were various tables, some of which were occupied by Club
members and the usual people seeking patronage from Mr. Trump.
As they sat down at one of the tables, Mack could see from the
clientele that Trump was still working the public for money and
influence. It was obvious that some of the people were not club
members but outsiders seeking favors from the former president.
At this point the men heard a plane flying overhead as it was
going for a landing at the airport in West Palm Beach. No doubt
the overflights were annoying Trump who had forbidden them
during his Presidency.
As they enjoyed the beauty of the plaza, Mack reflected that
Trump, and some 30 officials of his Administration, had to be
put under a mind lock, which prevented them disclosing the fact
that psionics were present in human society, a security breach
that loomed largely in the minds of the leaders of the AAP.
This concern of the AAP was atypical. Who could imagine until
Trump that a President and his Administration couldn’t be
trusted with national secrets of the highest order? It was a
great pity.
The mind lock worked very simply. It was meant to prevent the
person controlled from having any interest or make any inquiry
regarding psionics in general and the AAP in particular. During
the four years of his Administration, the mind locks on Trump
and on his officials worked as they were supposed to. There was
no security breach of the AAP by the Administration.
The mind lock did not confer, ordinarily any benefit for the
person’s mind that had been so locked. That meant that Trump,
cunning in many ways but intellectually lazy, remained
vulnerable to his chronic poor judgement, and his other, unhappy
mental deficiencies. But mental control presupposed a certain
mental clarity. Trump had to be communicated with and his mind
needed to be lucid during select personal interactions. In this
case, a lucidity feature had to be built into the mind lock so
that Trump could be mentally clearer in the presence of Mack.
This feature enhanced Trump’s mind, particularly the frontal
lobes and hippocampi in his brain. This would increase his
ability to reason and remember, in effect returning Trump’s mind
to what it had been like in the late 1970s and early 1980s. It
had worked fairly well during the time of the Trump
Administration. But now that Administration was voted out of
office, the utility of the mind lock had diminished.
Most likely, Trump was getting some minor headaches because of
his mind lock. Trump had a lot of headaches for other reasons,
the legacy of a lifetime of bad conduct. Also, because of his
poor health, brought about by his age, his bad diet, and a lack
of healthful exercise, the former President was suffering from a
gradual, perceptible increase of dementia. At a certain point,
the President lucidity would eventually, be fatefully
compromised, in which even his native cunning would not help him
escape.
Mack, and the others, sat quietly and enjoyed the shade of the
trees around the plaza. Following their operational brief, they
remained silent or made minimal conversation. Mack watched the
birds flitting through the trees and shrubs around the
courtyard, cardinals, buntings, and yellowthroats. He listened
to their calls and the color of them as they flitted through the
branches.
Soon the men were greeted by a white coated steward who asked if
they were there to see the President. Mack replied according to
the operational brief, “Maybe. I’m here to see Mr. Trump if I
can. I don’t have an appointment.” The steward frowned at
this, because casual visitors to Mar a Lago were highly unlikely
to see the former President. He also knew that the other men
were Secret Service agents and were forbidden the use of club
facilities.
“I’m a former acquaintance of Mr. Trump, and these men were
interviewing me,” said Mack apologetically. “I am having these
men here as my guests.”
The steward face lightened up at that and took the men’s order
of drinks, whiskey and water for Mack, vodka and ginger ale for
Devin, and a small glass of cognac for Collins. Brooks, the
designated driver, ordered a coke.
The men were then approached by a man whom they all recognized
as a former Presidential aide named Grover Hardisty. Apparently
a watcher had singled them out. “Do you men have an appointment
to see the President?” the aide asked. In Mar a Lago, Trump was
still considered the President of the United States.
Mack answered according to the operational brief. “I don’t have
an appointment,” he said, “but I’d like to see him. I’ve known
him for many years.” Per the briefing, it was deemed likely
that Trump would not want to see him. Mack had caused him
aggravation.
Hardisty frowned at Mack’s request. No doubt that he’s heard
many claims of friendship or acquaintance with Trump from many
callers over the years. He asked for Mack’s name, and wrote it
down on a notepad. He said he would check with the President,
but he said that it was doubtful that Trump would see him. Mack
said that he understood that.
As the aide departed the white-coated steward returned with the
ordered drinks and Mack watched as Devin payed the tab. This
expense, Mack noted, would come out of the operational funds
that were hidden within the USMS.
As Collins gave the signal, making a closed fist of his right
hand and opening it, Mack and Devin proceeded with the
telepathic entry into Trump’s mind.
#Post#: 33213--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:17 am
---------------------------------------------------------
He watched as Devin took out his cell phone and set it on the
table in front of them. With Mack and Collins silently watching
Devin set the timer function. According to the brief, Devin
lightly tapped his finger once to the table indicating he was
ready. Devin looked at another Secret Service agent that was
standing at the edge of the courtyard and nodded. That man
nodded as well. Mack sensed that he was the man in charge of the
psi-damper field surrounding most of Mar a Lago.
Mack closed his eyes and began the cavitation of the anti-psi
damper field around them all. As he shielded his own mind, he
could sense the emotional excitement of Devin and Group Mind
Potomac. At that moment, Mack sensed Devin’s movement starting
the stop watch on his phone and the closing of his eyes. As
their minds touched, Mack sensed briefly the many minds of
others, thousands of miles away inside and outside Washington
DC. At that point, Mack, Devin and the Group Mind began their
cautionary mental shielding, something that would give
themselves privacy, and would aid in the penetration of Trump’s
mind.
As the cavitation got larger, Mack focused his mind outward,
sensing fleetingly the courtyard with its trees, its people, and
the birds that flitted among the branches of the trees. He
sensed Devin’s mind closely joining him, monitoring him. And
behind Devin’s mind, Mack again briefly, through the shielding,
the other minds, of Group Mind Potomac. Then that perception
was gone, now safe behind the shielding.
Mack focused to the buildings south from where he was sitting.
As he cavitated through the psi-damper field, he sensed the
faint outline of walls and corridors, towards that part of Mar a
Lago where the Trump family lived. He telepathically reached
further into the building. He sensed a number of other minds
and the faint outlines of their bodies as they walked down
various corridors. Soon Mack was telepathically at the office
where Trump would be located. He could sense the faint outlines
of the office’s furniture, chairs, desk, wall paintings,
carpeting and windows. As he cavitated more deeply into the
psi-damper field into Trump’s office, he heard Trump’s
distinctive brain pulse sounding at the end of the room.
Mack focused more deeply. He and Devin soon sensed the bodily
telemetry of Trump. The telemetry indicated that Trump was
sitting at his desk, that he was hunched over the desk with his
head in his hands. When Mack, Devin, and Group Mind Potomac
reached Trump’s mind, the men felt the cascade of Trump’s rage
and grief wash over them. As Mack focused more intently on the
former President’s mind, they soon heard the stream of thoughts
running through Trump’s mind. They were thoughts and anger
about the last election. Then Mack began telepathic
visualizations of Trump’s brain in the electromagnetic sphere.
It began as a faint visualization but soon became more distinct.
They first saw a dull, gray shimmering sheet of light
surrounding Trump’s brain, the telepathic shield that was part
of the mind lock and was designed to prevent further psionic
tampering of Trump’s brain. As Mack focused on the shielding at
the front of Trump’s brain, several telepathic glyphs, called
seals, appeared in the visualization, seemingly attached to that
shimmering light. Each seal, notated in the Blackfoot language
was dated January 2017, and was brighter than the dull gray
light surrounding Trump’s brain. These seals were the outer
telepathic lock and access point to Trump’s brain and enabled
telepathic minds and group minds the ability to confirm that
these locks remained active with its seals unbroken. They also
permitted diagnostics of Trump’s brain.
Mack telepathically opened his specified portion of the
telepathic seal that granted him entry. After that, Devin and
Group Mind Potomac opened their side of the telepathic seal
granting them entry. Then Mack and the telepaths entered
Trump’s brain area. Behind that light, they saw through the
telepathic visualization the darker outward structure of Trump’s
brain and heard the sound of Trump’s distinctive brain pulse as
Trump’s neural pattern was synapsing.
Underneath the outer structure of Trump’s brain, the men could
see the neural pattern that went through Trump’s brain. This
visualization, as part of the mind lock, was represented as thin
filaments of light that followed the neurons throughout Trump’s
brain. It was a thick web of telepathic light. Mack and Group
Mind Potomac circumnavigated the surface structure of Trump’s
brain before probing into that web of light. Outwardly, the
brain appeared normal for a man of Trump’s age and health. For
elderly men, such as Trump, there would be the usual
disturbances of the brain caused by age, ill-health, or
injuries. These disturbances would cause changes in a brain’s
neural pattern.
Mack focused more deeply and took the scan under the surface
structures of Trumps brain, passing folds of neural tissue and
complex patterns of arteries, veins and nerves and briefly
inspected how the filaments of telepathic light coursed through
Trump’s tissue. Then they came to the center of Trump’s brain,
to the former President’s pair of hippocampi and amygdala found
on both hemispheres of his brain. Mack focused his scan on the
volume and activity of these organs. It was what he had
expected. Trump’s hippocampi were smaller, and his amygdalae
were larger than normal. The hippocampi, shaped as sea horses,
were involved primarily with declarative or short term memory.
Trump was notorious about his problems involving memory, both
short-term and long term. The amygdalae, which rested at the
end of the hippocampi, were involved with inputting and
processing emotion. That they were larger than normal was also
a physical sign of Trump’s past life. Trump had suffered
serious child abuse. When he was young, he had lived in fear.
The emotional neglect and abuse he suffered from his
narcissistic parents had caused him unutterable grief.
Mack focused on the neural structure. The telepathic
visualization indicated a dull color of red appearing in the
neural structure. This color coding related to the mind lock
that Mack had placed on Trump in 2017, a mind lock that
inhibited Trump from investigating the American Anti-Psi Program
or AAP. Mack left this feature of the mind lock untouched.
Mack focused more deeply. A duller, darker red color coding
along the neural structure appeared. This was located primarily
at the right dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. This had to do
with the lucidity feature of the mind lock. The telepaths could
see that these telepathic threads of light extended from the
cortex down to the hippocampi in both hemispheres and into the
other areas of Trump’s brain. Mack hesitated briefly about
shutting down this part of mind lock. The mind lock had
augmented and improved the lucidity of Trump’s brain, enabling
more effective human interaction with others but only when Mack
was in present. Mack wondered for a moment, if, perhaps,
Trump’s brain could be improved. At this moment, Mack regretted
briefly that he was a Controller, and not a Healer. Mack
abruptly dropped the mental command prompts in Trump’s brain for
the lucidity. The duller, darker red telepathic threads of
light faded away. Trump was now still under the mind lock, but
the help for his lucidity contained in the template in the mind
lock was now gone. Group Mind Potomac then gave telepathic
queries to the telepathic command matrix of the mind lock to
confirm the change in the command list and the removal of the
lucidity feature.
Mack focused more intentionally on the neural structure. He
watched as that structure of Trump’s brain seemed to deteriorate
before his telepathic gaze. The lucidity feature of the mind
lock had its biological advantages. It was a form of biostasis,
a telekinetic augmentation to the brain that prevented
biological aging and deterioration to all parts where the
biostasis reached. Mack watched as the biological functioning of
the neural pattern in many areas faded. In some areas, it even
disappeared. Mack thought, Trump’s going to have more problems
in thinking and memory. His conduct would become even more
irrational and antisocial.
Mack withdrew from the visualization of Trump’s brain and
briefly focused onto Trump’s consciousness, his surface
thoughts, sensing the anger and despair in the stream of
thoughts. After that, Mack, Devin, and Group Mind Potomac
plunged more deeply into Trump’s mind. They briefly listened to
Trump’s subconscious thoughts, filled with turmoil of thoughts
of anger, grief and revenge. After that they delved briefly
into Trump’s morphic memories. They went quickly through that
jumble of memories where Trump had imagined his past, his
grandiose depictions of himself and how he related to others.
The telepaths marveled at how many of these memories seethed of
anger and grievance. To no surprise to Mack and to Group Mind
Potomac, they discovered Trump had unconsciously morphed many of
his unsavory, well-known historical acts into memories where he
glorified himself or considered himself to be the undeserved
victim of others. Probing deeper into Trump’s mind, they came
to Trump’s eidetic memories. The telepaths discovered that Trump
had few of them. Most of these forgotten memories shaped Trump
into the man he was. They were vivid, painful memories of his
childhood trauma. The anger and fear of these memories were
almost overpowering. As with most people, Trump had no access
to eidetic memories.
Mack hesitated briefly, and Devin and Group Mind Potomac waited.
Below these memories was Trump’s collective unconscious.
Looking at this part of Trump’s unconsciousness was part of
their brief, but it did involve danger. The collective
unconscious was the place where the monsters dwelt, a place in
the mind, which, when it erupts into consciousness, destroys
individuals, societies, and peoples. Mack, and then Group Mind
Potomac, plunged into this forbidding region. In their
visualization, they found themselves standing on a flat surface
in utter darkness. Mack immediately recognized it as the abyss
spoken about in Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Buddhist
religious literature. They sensed that they were being watched
by reptilian, man-eating creatures in the darkness. Then the
telepaths began to see terrifying images of the demonic that has
existed for centuries throughout human history. They couldn’t
see any beings of light, nothing countering the darkness that
surrounded Trump. In a sense, the telepaths concluded, that
Trump has always been possessed by the demonic.
Mack, Devin, and Group Mind Potomac came out of that depth of
Trump’s mind, returning to the outer visualization of Trump’s
brain. They paused for a moment and enjoyed a collective sigh
of telepathic relief. It was too bad, thought Mack, that Trump
was influenced by the demonic and shunned connection to the
divine. He allowed this unshielded thought to go to Group Mind
Potomac. He sensed an agreement coming from the group mind.
Mack and Group Mind Potomac came out of the remaining layers of
visualizations until they were at the surface visualization of
Trump’s brain. The telepaths then moved to the outside of the
mind lock’s protective telepathic shielding of light and power
that enwrapped Trump’s brain. Mack then closed his portion of
the telepathic screen. His telepathic act also created a glyph
in Blackfoot on the screen that annotated a new date of October
2022. Devin and Group Mind Potomac then closed their side of
the telepathic shield which created their telepathic glyph and
dated it. At this point the updating of Trump’s mind lock was
now completed and the shielding was secured.
Mack and Devin came out of their mind scan. Devin looked at the
stop watch on his smart phone and stopped it. Devin smiled and
showed it to Mack. They had been in and out of Trump’s mind in
only 9 seconds, a quiet demonstration of the enormous power of
psionics and group minds.
“We’re done here,” said Devin softly. Collins nodded.
The men sipped on their drinks and Mack listened quietly as
Devin and Collins spoke of the community events occurring in
Palm Beach and West Palm Beach. Mack found the time enjoyable.
The heat and shade of Palm Beach now felt good to him, far
different from the cold of Newport, Oregon, but he missed the
autumnal weather to be found in Oregon. He would miss the
brisk, bracing sea air. It was too bad that he wouldn’t be
returning to Newport.
As the men finished their drinks, Collins quietly said that it
was time to go. Mack nodded in agreement. The men silently got
up and left the plaza passing through the building to get to the
parking lot and their car on the south side of Mar a Lago. They
went down the ornate corridors quickly and exited the building
at Trump’s main entrance. Walking down the sidewalk towards the
parking lot, Mack heard the hurried footsteps of a man coming
from behind them. Turning, Mack, and the other men, could see
Trump’s aide, Hardisty approaching them.
“The President will see you now, Mr. Stemple.” the aide said.
Mack looked at Collins, who nodded his assent, his face
disliking the idea but permitting Mack to see the former
President. The meeting would have some value. It would be
something interesting to see. Trump would be less lucid
compared to his other meetings. Despite this, Mack realized
that it was highly unlikely that anybody in higher authority
wanted Mack and Trump to ever meet again.
With Brooks remaining by the car, Mack, Devin and Collins
followed Hardisty inside and through the ornate doors that led
into that part of Mar a Lago where Trump kept as his personal
residence. Mack noted the same richly appointed corridor that
he had went down previously in July 2018. It had been unchanged
in the last four years. Passing several Secret Service agents
guarding Trump’s large office door, Mack entered Trump’s office.
He sensed that Collins, Devin and several other Secret Service
men remaining behind, outside the office, at the corridor
doorway, discreetly watching him.
#Post#: 33214--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:20 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Entering Trump’s office, he found the ex-President sitting at
his desk next to the window. Usually quite careful in his
appearance, Trump was disheveled, his face haggard, his eyes
tired and swollen. He did not immediately acknowledge Mack’s
presence. He did not even look at Mack. Instead of greeting
him, he reclined back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Had he been crying or raging? Mack watched as Trump remained
reclined in his chair with his eyes closed. The aide, Hardisty,
quietly announced Mack’s presence. Trump then opened his eyes
and scrutinized Mack. Mack sensed in those eyes an abyss of
pain and of anger. Mack silently watched Hardesty leave to go to
a side door where several he and other aides stood and watched.
He observed that several of those aides had open notebooks and
were taking notes.
Trump didn’t say anything to him and so Mack looked over the
room. He had been here before. This office, where Trump did
his business, was different from another, more grandiose office,
where Trump ordinarily greeted his influential visitors. Mack
had never been to that office. He wasn’t important enough.
This office, shaded from the morning sun, was a kind of refuge
for Trump, and a place to meet other, lesser known persons. It
was a good office, as offices tend to go. It had the usual
large portrait of Donald Trump on one office wall.
Interestingly, on another wall, a large wall plaque with the
seal of the President of the United States was also present.
Mack turned and looked at Trump as he sat down in one of the
chairs behind him. He said, “Last time I saw you, Mr. Trump,
when we were at Restaurante Courbet, you were at the top of your
world, at the summit of your power. The world was at your feet.
What happened?”
Trump’s eyes were dull with fatigue. “That’s a foolish question
and you know it.” He said. “I was betrayed, cheated, and chased
out of office in a way not ever seen before in politics. I won
the election. That’s the truth.” Trump’s voice was tired as
well.
He continued. “Trump’s always been a winner. Trump’s won it by
a landslide, by 8 million votes, and the other side knows it.
Trump was treated worse than any other President in history,
despite the fact that Trump’s been the greatest American
President since Abraham Lincoln. The deep state and the fake
news media were out to get Trump and these traitors did their
best to destroy him. They cheated Trump out of what was
rightfully his, the Presidency. If the truth be told, I’m still
the President.
Trump breathed in a bushel of air. “I railed against the
election results,” he said. “I warned the people, the ****
people. For some reason, Trump, a man ever ready to tell the
truth, wasn’t believed, wasn’t trusted by too many **** ****
people.
“I entered lawsuit after lawsuit in the courts but they wouldn’t
give me any justice. Imagine that! The courts betrayed me in
some 60 **** lawsuits. They said I didn’t have any proof, ****
them! All the things that Trump’s done for the courts, getting
these justices onto the courts, and they wouldn’t do anything
for him. They’ve betrayed Trump for their precious law,
conspiring against the law and order president. They’re all
traitors working for the deep state!”
Trump paused, closed his eyes and was silent for a moment. Then
he said again, more softly, “Imagine the enormity of it all.
They’ve betrayed the greatest! Trump was the greatest American
President that’s ever lived. Trump brought peace and prosperity
to so many people and then this happens, the stab in the back!”
“Perhaps, Mr. Trump, you’ve gotten onto a lot of peoples’
nerves,” said Mack. “Many people tend to think of you as just
another spath.”
“A what?”
“A narcissist.”
Trump glared at Mack. “Don’t get smart with me, Stemple!” he
bellowed. “You’re nothing but a **** nobody, a little worm that
can be squashed at any time! Trump towers over you like a
mountain! You’re nothing but a worm on the **** pavement, ready
to be stepped on! Imagine the arrogance of that! People
calling me a narcissist, some kind of nut! What kind of fool
says that? Everyone who’s honest knows that I’m a stable
genius!”
As Mack calmly met his glare, Trump continued, “I’m tired of all
of the mud people: the ****, the Jews, the greasers, the
liberals, the ****, messing with the American people, feeding
them nonsense and fouling them with their filth. I’m tired of
the deep state. When it comes down to it, the liberals, the
****, the ****, and the greasers aren’t citizens as far as
Trump’s concerned. Trump knows what’s best for the American
people.
“It’s like I’ve always said, Trump’s the one who knows more than
most. Trump knows more about things, many things, than the
generals, the admirals, the diplomats, other politicians and the
economists combined. Trump’s always been well-endowed in
everything, something that’s been the envy of many. I hate the
envious, choke artists who can’t be winners. I hate all forms
of weakness.”
Trump paused and fixed his eyes at Mack. “Why are so many
people so afraid of a leader who’s strong? Why don’t they
admire strength when they see it? Don’t they know what a good
thing that they had in Trump?
“It was through those damned Dominion voting machines and the
**** routers, the Italian satellites, the secret vote counts in
Germany and Italy, the **** smart Chinese thermostats, that I
had lost the election. The deep state did its best to destroy
me.”
“That’s hard to imagine,” said Mack.
Trump went on. “Trump’s a law-and-order president despite the
**** courts working against him. They don’t support any ****
truth or justice. They didn’t investigate the **** routers and
thermostats that were hacked, that changed the votes in many
states. They let me be betrayed by all the stupid choke artists
that are the filthy vermin of our country.”
Trump sank into silence. When Mack didn’t continue, Trump said,
“I’m still President, you know. Biden wasn’t truly elected.
The election was a sham, a disgrace to honest citizens. Trump
won by a landslide, by more than 8 million **** votes. “
Trump lapsed into silence. He looked searchingly at Mack for a
long moment. Then he said, “Did you destroy my Presidency,
Stemple? I know that you’re dangerous. I know that you could
have done it during the January 6 business. I've heard way too
much about **** Mack the Knife, all those wild stories about
you.
He glared at Mack, and said, furiously, "It's been reported that
you've been seen lurking in and around the Willard Hotel back
then. At the present time, I'm missing some seven aides that
were hired back then. They can't be found and their truck and
two hired cars are gone. It's like those men had stepped off
the face of the earth. I think that it’s **** possible that
you’ve been helping the **** deep state all along. I think
that, somehow, you have something to do with these missing men."
Trump paused. Then he said, "Maybe you're the one who's
involved in their disappearance. I still think that it's likely
that you've killed my friends, Leonard Malcolm and Parker
Simonsen, despite what you’ve said concerning them.”
Mack shook his head and said, “The Royal Canadian Mounted Police
officially declared that Leonard Malcolm died of exposure in a
roadside ditch outside of Ft. McCloud, Alberta. Parker Simonsen
died as a suicide when the FBI and police, with a warrant for
his arrest, came to his home. He stuck a revolver barrel into
his mouth and blew his head off as they entered his office.”
Trump glared at Mack, apparently unconvinced. “I’ve learned
from Stivers, and some of my other aides, Stemple, that you’re
the best field man around, that you’re fully capable of setting
traps that could destroy your enemies, no matter how powerful
they are.”
Mack smiled faintly. “It’s not that way, Mr. Trump. I’m
overrated.”
“I don’t believe that you’re just another man,” snapped Trump.
“I’ve heard too many stories saying you’re highly dangerous.”
“I’m overrated,” said Mack.
“I wonder about that. I wonder how it is that you’re so
invisible to people. When I was President, my aides could ****
learn very little about you. I’ve heard the talk, but it’s only
just that, talk.”
“Why should you wonder, Mr. Trump? I’m only a little worm,
remember? Worms just bury themselves into the woodwork. I’m in
that woodwork. You’re out in the open.”
Trump paid him no attention. He continued, “Then there was the
case of my former bodyguard, Milo Doubek. He died at the hands
of the police, but I still wonder about that. Did you, somehow,
Stemple, trap Doubek into having the police kill him? Why did
he turn his gun onto the police?”
Mack answered, “I’ve heard from the police accounts, Mr. Trump,
that Doubek carried his pistol in his hand openly in public, and
when confronted about it, said he had been betrayed by the “old
man”, that is to say, his boss. It was at that point he turned
his gun towards the police. It causes me to ask the question,
did you, his last boss, betray him, Mr. Trump?”
Trump’s eyes flashed in greater anger at that. “I didn’t betray
anyone, Stemple! That’s simple idiocy! You’ve **** betrayed
me, Stemple! Somehow you did so! You demanded that I call the
police for a minor nosebleed. Imagine the nerve of that! You
making **** demands on me, the President of the United States!”
Mack said, “Agent Jenkins was seriously injured in July 2018 and
had to receive detailed medical treatment. From what I’ve
heard, he was put on medical leave for several months. So much
for it being a simple nosebleed.”
“No,” said Trump. “A nosebleed is no ground for having an agent
put on leave. The Secret Service, like too many of the other
traitors, are just a **** bunch of pansies.”
“Agent Jenkins’ doctors would disagree with you.”
“Well **** the doctors! I still think that Doubek’s death has
something **** wrong with it.”
“Something wrong about it is right,” said Mack. “Why was Doubek,
walking down Claxton Street with a drawn pistol in his hand, in
an area near where I was staying in Lake Worth? Was that a
coincidence, Mr. Trump? Or was it rather the case of you and
Doubek were actually trying to murder me?”
Trump scowled at that.
Mack continued. “Was Doubek’s assault upon me after the assault
upon Agent Jenkins, and his later following me, with a drawn
pistol, part of a contemplated murder attempt? Was it some kind
of experiment in political murder that you two were
experimenting in 2018? Were you two men planning more murders
in 2019 and 2020?”
“You’re a light-weight!” snapped Trump. “You’re a worm, not a
man. You’re not worth the trouble, dead or alive. But I still
can’t stop thinking of Malcolm and Simonsen. You’re a killer,
Stemple. You’re sheer poison around wealthy people, the salt of
the Earth. Death seems to follow you. I still think that
you’ve killed those friends of mine.”
“Those are delusions,” said Mack.
Trump glared at Mack, and then sighed. He slumped back in his
chair and closed his eyes.
His rages apparently exhaust him, Mack thought. He’d apparently
had an angry morning.
#Post#: 33215--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:22 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Mack let the quiet settle in for a moment and then he changed
the subject. “When I was at the White House, Mr. Trump, I saw
that you had only your father’s picture on the Oval Office desk,
and there were no other family pictures.”
Trump opened his eyes and looked at Mack. “That’s right
Stemple. I’m a chip off the old block. I like to think how
much farther I’ve gone in life compared to my father. I am a
man much greater than he was. In fact, my father was nothing
compared to me.”
“I can’t disagree with that. But the shadows of the past seem
to always darken the present. Our fathers were dark figures.
They wanted us to be killers, to use their language. Isn’t that
something we have in common, the shared nothingness of bad
fathers? Couldn’t it be said that your father murdered your
brother Fred?”
Trump looked at Mack for a long moment, and then said,
“Everybody gets what they deserve.”
“But the grief of those days still linger. Did you or your
brother deserve what you got?”
Trump glared at Mack. “My family was as normal as any other
family.”
“And so, Mr. Trump, it was all sunny, delightful family bliss?”
Trump glared at Mack. “Yes, it was delightful!” He snapped.
“As you know, I’ve had the same delightful family experience,
the same type of father. It was all joy amid the tears. I
suspect that that’s the reason you’ve put up with me for so
long.”
Some of the anger went out of Trump’s eyes. But the
defensiveness remained. “Our family got along okay, Stemple.
It toughened us up in the end.”
“And our fathers smiled upon us, Mr. Trump.”
“Yes, they did, I think. And they certainly got away with
murder over the years. My father laughed at all the **** he got
away with. He got away with a lot, like I have, and will.”
“Is that why you’re laughing now? Is that why we can both laugh
now?”
“I get away with a lot, Stemple, much like my father. I have a
lot of laughter. I can **** on whomever I will.”
“You’re overjoyed.”
“You’re wrong, Stemple. I’m way on top of the world. I’m outta
sight. My father would have never believed that his son became
President of the United States. He didn’t think that much of
me.”
“Why did it have to happen that were we both destroyed in our
youth? We both found no victory in that.”
“I wasn’t destroyed. I toughened up and fought when I could. I
was a man who went from strength to strength.”
“So it was, Mr. Trump, the power of positive thinking, of
growing in strength through joy.”
Trump didn’t reply, his tired, angry eyes fixed on Mack.
Mack continued. “But why did we both have to cry as much as we
did when we were very young? Why did we have to be so afraid in
all those years of joy?”
Trump smiled grimly. “What tears and what fears could we have
had in all that family bliss?”
Mack smiled again faintly. “I can clearly see that we’ve had a
lot of the same joy in all that family bliss.”
“People get what they deserve.” Trump’s smile disappeared.
“You’re up to your old tricks, Stemple. You’re trying to play
again with my head.”
“I’m a player, Mr. Trump. I think you know it. It’s much like
golf. We both know that you love the game and like to wield the
club.”
“That’s a fact, Stemple.”
“And we’ve both clubbed and were clubbed in our youth.”
“That’s the way it was.”
“At least our clubs were exclusive,” said Mack.
Trump smiled grimly. “People have to be special to get into
those clubs.”
“I agree, Mr. Trump. You have to have the bruises. You have to
have the high marks and the low marks.”
“That’s the way it is. It’s a tough place to measure up to,
Stemple.”
“Did we both measure up?”
“I did, Stemple. Look at where I’m at now.”
“Yes, and I’m the worm. But was it worth the cost?”
Trump remained silent.
Mack continued. “When it came to the club, I preferred to duck
out. I like to be seen but little seen.”
“You’re invisible, Stemple. No one can see you. You hide like
a worm in the woodwork. You have a different kind of cunning
from me.”
“I didn’t like how my father hit me.”
“Mine hit me, Stemple, but with his words. Powerful things,
those words and the feelings behind them.”
“I agree, Mr. Trump. They killed your brother.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
Trump sighed. “It isn’t fair, Stemple. You’re invisible and
I’m out in the open. You seemingly haven’t aged at all since
the 1980s. Your hair is slightly grayer, but you move and act
like a younger man. Life just isn’t fair.”
“But our fathers told us that life’s unfair.”
“It is, Stemple, and everyone’s an enemy. Our fathers showed us
that.”
“But it doesn’t have to be that way. Friendship is possible.”
“But in the end, no friendship ever lasts. That’s a fact.”
“But isn’t it a fact that we love and are loved by many people,
making friendship possible?”
“Perhaps, Stemple, but we’re also players in a rough game, and
I’m the best there is.”
“Perhaps you could have been more like me, Mr. Trump. Perhaps
you could have been less visible, but that’s the problem with
the club. The club may be exclusive, but you’ve got to get away
from it. The club rules may catch up with you. The world is
closing in on you.”
“My father wouldn’t have ever permitted that, Stemple. He would
have insisted on me following the club’s rules. He would’ve
wanted me to walk in front of the crowd, to be the chief, the
leader over all others.”
“So he really said he loved you and wanted you to succeed?”
“He did, Stemple. I’m the best there is, a chip off the old
man’s block.”
“But the tears of grief we shed in the past remain.”
“Life has its bad moments. There’s got to be a lot of tears.”
“And so, Mr. Trump, we must be thrashed by the club, and the
club rules.”
“Everyone gets hurt, Stemple, but one can duck the club. I’ve
managed to do it for years playing the game.”
“And so, in the end, you’re like me, Mr. Trump. You’re never
seen. You’ve never shown your true self.”
Trump smiled. “That’s the way it is and how it should be. I’m
never seen. Do you believe me?”
“I do, Mr. Trump.”
“I’m in everybody’s sight, Stemple, but I’m outta sight. When
you’re outta sight, you’re outta mind, especially to those
thinking about destroying you. They don’t know me and they hate
it when I’m outta sight and outta reach.”
“But we all get touched sometime.”
“But I don’t want to be touched.”
“But we all do crave to be touched, Mr. Trump.”
“I want things, all things, to be on my own terms.”
“But that rarely happens.”
“I hate you, Stemple.”
“Do I remind you of yourself, Mr. Trump? Of a road you didn’t
travel?”
“You don’t, Stemple. I love myself, my achievements, instead of
doing what you do, hiding away like a contemptible worm.”
“Our fathers did not love us. They didn’t even love
themselves.”
“Well, Stemple, bully for them.”
“They were bullies then, weren’t they?”
“That’s the way it’s got to be. Better to have the club instead
of not having it. One can thrash things with the club.”
“Then, perhaps one should be invisible.”
“I’m invisible, ain’t I, Stemple? Who knows who I am, really?
Though I’m out in the open, I’m hidden like you.”
“You’re hidden, I agree, but being out in the open makes you a
target.”
“It makes it better for wielding a club and thrashing things.”
“The world is closing in on you, Mr. Trump.”
“I’ll strike out if I can, Stemple, unlike you, hiding in the
woodwork.”
“You may not succeed.”
“I will. I hate enough and I’m willing to do what needs to be
done to succeed.”
“Why strive with all that hatred, Mr. Trump? Why not choose the
happiness of love?”
“I’m not buying into that ****, Stemple. I’m giving the world
all the love that the world gave me back in return.”
“That’s a hard sell, Mr. Trump. Our fathers gave us their all.”
“My father was that to me, Stemple. I received the full force
of that love. I won’t risk myself for that kind of love
anymore.”
“Our fathers failed us, I agree, but life is a risk and love is
a risk. Besides, you’ve done a lot of risky things over the
years.”
“I know the risks, Stemple. And as you know, I’m good at the
game.”
“But what if the world finally makes you play by its own rules
and takes away your club?”
“Life’s like golf, Stemple. The rules aren’t very strict with a
player who knows how to game the system.”
“Sometimes you can’t play that game, Mr. Trump. Eventually,
others may want to force you to play a different game.”
“Well, bully for them.”
“Maybe they’ll come after you with bigger clubs.”
“I’m the best there is, Stemple. I know I can’t be beat. I’ve
already beaten the best.”
“Our fathers didn’t think so about us.”
“Our fathers were contemptible, but they knew the winning
strategy. They knew that everyone else is dirt. In the end,
everyone is dirt, and everyone’s part of the mud people.”
“I thought, Mr. Trump that you said that it was the mud people
who robbed you of the Presidency?”
“They did. But I didn’t know what to do at the time. I wasn’t
angry enough like our fathers. I didn’t step on them hard
enough.”
“But can you step enough on the mud people, Mr. Trump? Mud’s
like water. It doesn’t break like a twig, but merely reforms
around the step. Sometimes the mud traps the foot stepping into
it.”
Trump glared at Mack. “You’re a worm, Stemple, one of the mud
people.”
“But aren’t we the same mud of what our fathers wanted us to be,
Mr. Trump?”
“Maybe for you, that’s the case. For me, I became my own man, a
person not like my father.”
“Maybe that’s why your father hated you, a chip off the old
block.”
“I don’t mind receiving hatred from anyone.”
#Post#: 33216--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:24 am
---------------------------------------------------------
“So all that hatred was not important?”
Trump sighed. “People get what they deserve,” he muttered.
Mack looked at him in silence, and said, “I came here, Mr.
Trump, at the request of the Secret Service supervisor, Mr.
Michael Collins, who had me clarify some issues regarding the
Doubek assault both upon me and Agent Jenkins back in 2018. It
was for that reason you’ve seen me again outside your office
windows today. That’s why I’m here and why I wanted to see you
one last time.
“I came to say goodbye. After today, like you’ve said, I’m a
worm, and now, this worm going further into the woodwork. I’m
going to ground and I won’t be found, either by you or by
anyone. The apartment and the mailing address in Fort Benton,
Montana have already been closed down. The US Marshal Service
that administers Witness Protection Program, and serves as my
liaison service, will not know where I am. Of course, they’ve
never actually known where I have been living for many years
anyway.
“I’ll be leaving Montana and no one in that state will know
where I’ve gone. If you really need to contact me, the only
person that will serve as a contact will be Nolan Tarp, formerly
of Laramie, Wyoming. You won’t be able to directly contact him
either, but if you have one of your people post a general
community message on the Wyoming Craigslist asking for the
services of a provost actuary, he may respond with a telephone
call to the number your people list. The recognition sign that
he will offer your people will be the word ‘Cordova’. The
recognition parole your people will need to give him in return
will be the word ‘Barksdale’. Anyone calling, inquiring about
what a provost actuary is or does, is not going to be him. He
may not necessarily respond to your attempts to contact him. If
he’s interested, you can expect that he will demand a stiff
payment for his information and for his other services. He will
initially require your people to make multiple cash payments by
means of a dead drop. He will be expensive. He will also set
the protocol for any face to face meetings. I would stress to
your people to never anger him. He has the power of retribution
and he will have backup.”
“I’ve heard about Tarp from some of my aides. I’ve heard he’s a
great field man,” Trump said. “I’ve heard that he’s a cold,
hard man.”
“He is.”
Trump sighed again. “Why in hell are you are so young looking?
We’re both about the same age, in our 70s. I’m looking and
feeling like an old man. You look like you’re still in your
late 30s or early 40s.” Trump moaned. “It just isn’t fair.
You’re in obvious good health; much like we were in the 90s.
I’m old and feeling my age and yet, you’re standing before me
lookin’ and movin’ around as if you’re young and in the prime of
life. It just isn’t fair.”
Mack smiled. “It’s all due to plain living and high thinking.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Stemple! Remember who I am? Trump’s
the big man here. From what you’re telling me, Tarp might be
bigger than you, a real stand-up guy, possibly a better field
man than you are.”
“You’re probably right,” said Mack. “And he’s also a killer
from what I hear.” And Mack thought silently to himself, and he
has an antipathy towards you.
Trump paused and looked mournfully at the seal of the President
of the United States on one of his walls. Mack could see the
anger rising again in his eyes.
“Perhaps I should hire him. Now is the time for blood! Now is
the time to punish the deep state! I’m done being soft with
people! People have had it too easy with me. Now is the time
to smash some heads!” Trump leaned back in his chair and closed
his eyes. Then he said, "What wealthy people need in this
country are their own enforcers for order in the nation, even
their own private armies. With that they can protect and
enforce their rights." He lapsed into silence.
These are the utterances of treason, thought Mack. He
contemplated taking his leave at this point.
Then Trump sighed and said again, “It just isn’t fair. I won
the **** **** election by a landslide. Trump’s the greatest
American President that ever lived. He’s too much loved by too
many **** people for that to have occurred.
“Even Pence turned traitor, that **** coward. On January 6th,
he went to the Senate and certified the election. He should
have been hung by my people when they stormed the Capitol. If
he had refused to certify that fake 2020 election, like he was
supposed to, and had it turned over to the House of
Representatives, I would have been voted in and would’ve
remained President. That’s the trouble with all these
Christians like Pence, no backbone, all bleating sheep with
their **** consciences! It’s too much the golden rule this and
the golden rule that! Don’t they know that they who have the
gold rules? They’re all sheep, **** mud people loving the ****
mud people, especially in the presence of the **** deep state.
The sheep need to be kicked and kicked again! They need to have
their consciences beaten out of them! It’s time for blood and
struggle, and men must become wolves again!”
Mack interrupted him. “I hear, Mr. Trump, that Pence didn’t
trust the Secret Service agents guarding him. I think that he
heard the people shouting ‘hang Mike Pence’ and didn’t like that
as well.”
“Well, bully for Mike Pence. If he had left like he was
supposed to, that damned election certification would not have
taken place!” snapped Trump, who leaned back in his chair again
and closed his eyes. He was quiet for a moment. Then he
muttered, “People who think they can go their own way and betray
Trump and all good patriots, ought to be put to death. I should
have been President for life. It was all these **** traitors
who prevented that from happening.”
Mack had heard enough. “It’s the time for me to go, Mr. Trump.”
Mack wondered how Trump’s associates and aides were able to put
up with his malice.
Trump opened his eyes. They were very tired. “Before you go,
have you tried the food here, Stemple?”
“I have, back in the 90s, with Preston Callendar, when we came
to visit you during ‘the Season’.”
“Was it good?”
“It was. I also enjoyed your hors d’oeuvres the last time I was
here.”
“That’s really the case, Stemple. What Trump offers is always
good. Trump’s a good man, a strong man, though these facts are
not recognized by many. Trump is a great man, one of the
greatest that’s ever lived. It’s too bad that so many have
refused to acknowledge Trump’s greatness.
“You know, Trump’s one of the world’s richest men. He’s
entitled to respect and power. But Trump never seems to get
what he deserves. I’m tired Stemple, tired of it all, tired of
all the lesser men speaking out of turn, not knowing those who
are rightfully their masters.
“I’m tired of the American people, the stupid sheep, yearning
for a master and never finding one, throwing patriots like Trump
down into the gutter like a gum wrapper or something. There are
too many mud people, the ****, the liberals, the greasers, the
Jews, the **** having the talk of freedom and failing to see the
need for a strong man. My people don’t believe in any kind of
freedom apart from Trump.
“Perhaps I’m another **** **** Christ, according to the modern
prophets who support me, a better Christ than the ones who came
before me. Perhaps all those who oppose me are demon inspired.
Perhaps we need a new religion in this country, one that
recognizes me for who I truly am.”
Trump sighed. “Perhaps I should have entered professional golf.
Did you know that I was one of the greatest players of the
game? I should have gone professional. That’s what I should
have done. If I had done that, I’d be doing something that I
love and would not have had to deal with the fake media and all
these **** mud people. I sure hate all the **** that has been
dished out to me, all about the routers, the thermostats, the
**** Italian satellites, and the stolen election.”
Mack smiled faintly at that. “If you had taken up golf, then
you wouldn’t need to steal. That was quite an embarrassment
having the government seize back those classified documents that
you stored here.”
“I declassified those documents, Stemple. I also own them.
They were a record of my administration and they’re rightfully
mine. To hell with any law that says otherwise. To hell with
the public, and all those bleating sheep, who complain about the
**** national security. If I want something, I can damn well
take it. I have the authority since I’m rightfully the
President.
“Trump won the election and has always been a great winner.
Trump went farther than my father in affairs, much farther that
he ever dreamed. Everyone must concede that Trump is a great
man. People have blamed me for the insurrection on January 6.
Those were my people and I love them. I don’t understand why
people don’t understand the work of patriots. I didn’t have
anything to do with the January 6th insurrection. Those
patriots acted out their anger because of conviction, anger that
the election had been stolen from them and that the courts
weren’t doing anything about it.
“If the **** sheep bleat for law and order, to hell with them!
To hell with law and order! Why should patriots, supporting
Trump, give any respect to a rigged system? Pence that ****
rat, was disloyal to me! If he hadn’t certified the election,
it would have been decided in Congress and I would have remained
President! Pence’s a **** rat, a disgrace!
“I should have been with my people on their march to the Capitol
on January 6th, but it was not to be! My cowardly aides
manhandled me into the limo and back to the White House.
Imagine that! Trump should’ve stormed into the House and Senate
with his supporters. If the police resisted, Trump could’ve
commanded them to stop. And if they didn’t stop, he would have
ordered them killed. As far as I’m concerned, only I and my
people count! And if the truth be told, at bottom, even they
don’t count! Only I alone count! Only my will counts!”
Trump stopped, exhausted. His face was red and covered with
sweat.
#Post#: 33217--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:26 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Mack watched as shadows seem to darken in the room. Outside,
the lawn and sidewalks were under the shade of clouds. A storm
was probably blowing in from the coast.
After a moment of silence, Mack said quietly, “What you’re
saying is to be expected from what we went through. This is the
same dark shadow, standing behind both of our fathers who also
thought that they, and their will alone, counted.”
Trump didn’t immediately reply. Eventually with weary eyes, he
muttered, “It’s like I’ve always said, everyone gets what they
deserve in the end. That was the way it was with my father. He
took the heat, and gave the heat, and didn’t care what other
people thought.”
“And that’s the way it’s going to be with you,” Mack replied.
“Like I’ve said, I’m a chip off the old block. It’s the same
with you, Stemple, and don’t try to say otherwise. We’re both
made of the same dust and chips, the same damned mud of our
fathers.”
“I agree. In a certain way, our fathers still rule us even from
their graves. And that includes all the inevitable enablers of
that darkness which came after them.”
Trump nodded. “Yeah, that’s how it was for me. There were the
professionals who had supported my father, who helped him make
his money. I’ve learned a lot from them and really did
appreciate what they’ve done over the years. Then there were
the toadies who sponged off of the Trumps back then, and still
try to do so. They’re contemptible. Then there are those ****
**** others, the damned crimpers who made our lives hell. They
included those **** **** shrinks, the blackleg doctors, who
enabled all that fatherly love in my teenage years.”
Mack nodded. “I’ve experienced similar doctors like that in my
school years, Mr. Trump. I’ve experienced their inhumanity. I
gave them little cooperation when they refused to reveal
themselves to me. They remained in the shadows and wouldn’t
allow me the right of refusal to their treatment and control.
I’m sure you didn’t like them pouring cold water onto all your
youthful dreams. ”
Trump agreed. “That’s true. I really hated those crimpers."
He said. "I still do. As far as I’m concerned, no **** ****
shrink is going to shrink my greatness.”
“But, Mr. Trump, in order to be happy, we’ll ultimately have to
forgive our fathers and their doctors what they’ve done to us.
I know this is a hard saying, but like you’ve said, we’ve had to
become hardened and this forgiveness should be part of our
hardness.”
“I’ve already done that, Stemple. Can’t you see it? I’m loaded
with forgiveness, but I’m not going to stop thinking of what
those crimpers really are. My father was a little man who
needed crimpers around him. In a way, if the truth be told, my
father was a chip off the block of who I am. My father was only
chips and dust compared to me.”
Mack smiled faintly. “Speaking of chips off the old block,
isn’t it true, Mr. Trump, that you hate me because I’ve failed
to become a chip off the block, whereas you had? And isn’t
being a chip off the block a failure, because you’ve failed to
become what you should’ve been in the first place?”
Trump glared at him. “That’s a bunch of nonsense and you know
it, Stemple." He said. "I’m nothing like my father. I’m a very
great man, the best there is. I’m far ahead of what my father
accomplished. He’s nothing, compared to me. As for those
doctors, in the end, what my father finally said about them is
true: ‘what they say doesn’t pass the smell test’. Even my
father backed away from them. He showed them what an NDA meant.
“What we got from those doctors, Stemple, was a lot of the bait
and stick all around. But one has to fight them. And we
learned the great truth. The winners stick it out. The losers
can’t.”
“I could agree, Mr. Trump, that what we got was years of bait
and stick aplenty.”
Trump wasn't finished. “Yes, and we had to kiss the stick, to
become the cold killers our fathers wanted us to be, Stemple.
If people are angry about us, they should’ve realized that we’re
only doing what our fathers taught us. That’s what I became.
I’m only what my father wanted me to be. I really respected my
father.”
“Perhaps you did respect him in a certain way, Mr. Trump. I do
find troubling your expression of kissing the stick. Isn’t it
true that the doctor’s bait and stick only meant in the end the
same thing, a stick?”
“That’s true, Stemple. At a certain point, the bait and stick
became one for us." Trump sighed and said, sadly, "It was at
that point that I knew that the bait or stick meant nothing at
all. The only thing that meant was the stick, the control over
others. I didn’t want to let them control me. As far as I
could see, they didn’t follow any rules or morality. They
didn’t acknowledge my humanity.”
Mack nodded at that. “I’ve experienced that same inhumanity,
Mr. Trump. But I’d say it’s not simply a matter of control in
battling our fathers and their doctors. It’s fundamentally a
battle for freedom and human dignity.”
Trump looked at Mack for a long moment and then said, “That’s
missing the point of it all, Stemple. They didn’t care at all
about our freedom or dignity. Let me repeat that. Freedom is
nothing without having the power to control others, to stop them
from thwarting one’s will. They didn’t give a damn about us.
They weren’t concerned about our emotions, our rage. They were
only the paid tools of our fathers and they were going to have
us conform to their will. It’s like I said, there are no rules
or morality fighting those people, or anyone else when it comes
to it. They have no truth since they’ve always bending their
truth towards the control they’re seeking. Speaking of myself,
they’ve shown me that nothing is real and that everything’s a
fraud.”
After a moment, Mack could hear a jet plane flying overhead,
coming into a landing at the airport in West Palm Beach,
something that the President had forbidden when he was at Mar a
Lago during his presidency. Trump had lapsed into silence.
Mack thought that it was time to go.
“Damned airplanes,” the ex-President muttered. “I’m the winner.
I’ve always won the battles I fought. You can’t deny that. I
can’t be touched by anyone. No one is ever going to hold me
accountable for anything. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the ****
Teflon Don, the **** forty-fifth President of the United States.
I won that election, and Biden wasn’t ever truly elected. The
election was a sham, a disgrace to all honest patriots. Trump
won by a landslide. Trump won by more than 8 million votes.
Trump glared at him. “You’re more like me than you want to
admit, Stemple. You’re much like my former bodyguard, Milo
Doubek. At bottom, we’re all killers. I’ve heard the stories
about you as being ‘Mack the Knife”. You’re known as a master
of the balisong and I’ve heard that you could kill a man with a
folded balisong, without the blade being flicked out.”
“I am skilled in stick fighting, if that’s what you mean, Mr.
Trump. The folded balisong is actually a mercy. Someone
confronting you doesn’t have to die by the blade. That person
can be killed or disabled by a stick.”
“That’s the problem with you, Stemple. You’re always holding
back. You’re not going out for the blood, the kill, like you
should be doing. That’s a grave weakness. You’re always
lurking in the shadows and not living out in the open.”
“Knives and sticks are for ambush killers, Mr. Trump. That’s
part of living in the shadows. That’s a part of our world, a
part of who we are. Our fathers and their doctors lived in the
shadows and were highly skilled in their ambushes as well.”
“I haven’t thought of it that way, Stemple. They gave us the
bait, the stick and even the blade. Their words, I think,
became a matter of life and death for us, and they ultimately
chose death for us, a living death.” Trump rubbed his sad,
tired eyes and looked at Mack and smiled weakly.
The two men heard another airplane pass over Mar a Lago, going
in for a landing at the airport in West Palm Beach. Trump's
weak smile began to fade.
Mack was getting tired of this conversation. It was time to
draw it to a close. They would never reconcile since, for
Trump, words no longer had any meaning. He said, “I can agree
that the doctors didn’t care about us. In the end, they were
indifferent to our emotional and professional development. But
that was who they were. Early on, we had to admit that they
were hirelings, enablers of our fathers, and that dictated how
they behaved. They were also narcissists.
“Do you know why we’re ultimately different, Mr. Trump? Why,
unlike you, I never became a chip off the old block? At twelve
years of age, I fell in love with a girl and was touched by the
eternal. I was able to grasp onto the possibility of love, of
intimacy. That is what divides us, the possibility of love.
Though I eventually lost the girl, I grabbed onto the eternal
and held onto it.”
Trump glared at him. “That’s the same **** stupidity on your
part, Stemple, talking about religion, that pitiful disease of
weak people, of choke artists, and mud people. Don’t talk to me
about that. I don’t want to hear it. I live in the light of
day and not in the shadows, like you do. I’ve enjoyed my wealth
and power and I don’t cower away hidden from people. I’m loved
by millions and have been intimate with many women. I have my
own strength and I shall overcome all opposition.”
“That sounds like your father talking.”
“That’s the truth, Stemple, though you don’t want to admit it.”
Mack tried another conversational tack. “You said that nothing
is real, that everything’s a fraud. When we were both young, we
both lied, sometimes on a big scale. We lied a lot, to our shame
and to the shame of others. We had to lie because lies were
sometimes a necessary survival skill because of the abuse we
suffered. After all, we suffered from childhood post traumatic
stress disorder. Of course, it didn’t work for us. It certainly
didn’t work for me. I found that love makes all things
possible, even if that love is eventually thwarted or not
reciprocated. I’ve found that we are sustained by love and it
brings us out of the hollowness of our lives. Love enriches us.
If you can give yourself to love, you can give up the fraud,
and all those defenses that you use to separate yourself from
love and happiness.”
Trump glared at him. “At bottom, nothing is real, Stemple, not
even **** love. Why open yourself up to being hurt again? Love
is just another crimping of the mind. Look at what happened to
us. I see things as they are. I use words to disclose and
conceal who I am. By words, I can create and recreate myself.
By words I become god-like.
“I don’t hide like a worm in the shadows, like you do. I remain
in the sunlight, out in the open, ready to take on all comers.
I’m still hidden though. Nobody sees me, like you’ve said.
People only see and know what I allow them to see and know.
That is power, true power. The tongue is a great force by those
who know how to speak, when it’s backed by wealth. That’s why I
am the way I am. I don’t always tell the supposed truth. I
tell my own truth, and my words are my strength, not weakness.
“Why do RINOs make a fuss about the truth? They’ve been lying
to the public for decades, long before I came along. Why should
their truth be more important than my truth? My truth is my
own, and it’s who I am. My truth’s more important to me than
theirs. My truth, backed by wealth and power, must win out in
the end.”
Mack shook his head. “That’s the impasse between us.”
“You’re a worm, Stemple, a **** worm. You never stand up for
yourself, don’t you? You always hold back, never going in for
the kill. You talk just like a worm. In the end, you don’t
have any **** self-respect.”
“I’m just not that kind of stand-up guy,” said Mack, smiling.
“Because of my past, I seek to avoid trouble. I admit I’m
always guarded in my dealing with people, especially those in
authority. I will honor my own humanity and not respect any
authority that would diminish that humanity. Why should I
strive for the acclaim of others like you do? I like fading
into the woodwork. And as we’ve both agreed, you’re out in the
open.”
Trump softened his glare at Mack. He sighed and said, “Living
in the shadows isn’t a sign of self-respect, Stemple. It’s
highly subversive. I can sense your disrespect for those who
have power. Everything’s based on respect. Only an idiot or an
ass can’t see that.
“Life’s based on respect. It’s all about the golden rule: he
who has the gold rules. You ought to respect your betters.
We’re the golden people who rule this country and especially the
government. You have to accept that. You, and people like you,
don’t count in the scheme of things.”
Mack smiled at that. It was time to do the man a jag, testing
his supposed superior vocabulary. “Though, unlike me, you have
weakness and age in your body, Mr. Trump, you have a certain
kind of majesty. Your thrasonical manner does point to a
lambent, bubaline majesty that towers above us all. You hold
onto the horns of power much like the monarchs of old, as they
themselves held onto their power, arrayed in all their splendor,
as in those ancient days long past. Though, nowadays, many
would say that they find you agrestic, your majesty makes even
those skeptical of you to pause and to wonder. Though you are
hebetudinous and incogitant to many, many others find you highly
aestival despite your other gnathonic followers.”
Trump didn’t see the jag, that he’d been insulted in the
supposed flattery. He smiled broadly at Mack and said, “Ain’t
that the truth, Stemple. That’s what I would say myself and I
always have the best words.”
“The truth matters, Mr. Trump. Words matter in the end, even
like the simple braying of the cattle in the field matters.”
“No, Stemple, the truth doesn’t matter. Neither do words.
People should take life in stride, as it is, as they find it.
People shouldn’t be angry with me. I only tell things as they
are.”
Mack looked at Trump sadly and shook his head. He said, “Most
people would disagree with you, Mr. Trump. Our fathers never
gave us the words and the truth we wanted to hear, though we
needed them. At a certain point, the words that we received
hurt us badly.”
Trump smiled grimly at Mack. “They only showed us the hard
things in life, that there is no such thing as God, or love, or
friendship, something I’ve already told you. In the end, it’s
like I said. There aren’t any friends, only enemies. Why do
you and so many others draw away from that simple truth?”
“Then, indeed, your supposed friends are your enemies.”
“I hate you.”
“I know that, Mr. Trump.”
“I’ve always hated you. I’m always naked before you.”
“We’re both naked in a manner of speaking. We’ve been cut from
the same cloth, the same fabric of existence. And that fabric
is very threadbare.”
“Despite all that, Stemple, nobody needs to feel sorry about me.
I don’t need any man’s pity. I think another man’s pity is
contemptible. I follow my own rules and morality and I spit on
any man I want to. I don’t think I have to say I’m sorry to
anyone, for anything I’ve ever said or done. Great men don't
have to. Through many struggles, I've made my bones over the
years, and, in any dispute, I know that made guys are always in
the right even when they're wrong. Nobody ever said that they
were sorry to me. Nobody’s ever apologized to me. Certainly
the crimpers, the blackleg doctors didn’t, and why should they?
I am the strongest man, the greatest man, a man of awesome
power. I’ve had the power and I’ve enjoyed that glory of power
over others. And if I have my way and that power again, I’ll
have my enemies pay with their wealth and blood!”
“So, in the end, it’s about wealth and blood, Mr. Trump? Wasn’t
that our fathers’ view of things? Why don’t we consider again
their words and how they had affected us both? Aren’t we
living the living death they planned for us?”
“You just don’t get it, Stemple. Words don’t mean anything,
anything at all.” Trump sighed, his eyes bloodshot and weary.
“Why should they?” He sank back in his chair and was silent,
except for his troubled, tired eyes.
Mack didn’t respond to that. At this point, what can one say?
As the silence began to deepen, Trump looked at Mack with his
tired eyes and said, “It’s too late for the both of us.”
The two men looked into each other eyes for a long moment. Then
Trump wearily laid his head back in his chair and closed his
eyes.
Mack stared at the silent man. “And we shall both go to our
respective dooms, Mr. Trump. I’m sorry in however I have
offended you.” Trump did not immediately respond.
As Mack got up from the chair, he heard Trump softly say, "Only
worms apologize, Stemple. Why aren't you the kind of worm like
all my followers?"
Mack left the darkened room into the hallway, where he joined
Collins and Devin. Following Collins, going down the hallway,
they went back into the brightness of the outside. Walking
across the white cement pavement, they returned to the Secret
Service vehicle, where the driver Brooks waited. As they were
getting into the car, Mack wondered how Mar a Lago, a place of
majesty and beauty, could have so much evil and unhappiness
within it.
Soon their car went out of the parking lot, onto the road. As
they arrived at the exit, Mack watched as they were waved
through the exit by the friendly guards. Mack was thankful for
having finally left the place. He didn’t look back.
#Post#: 33218--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Last Farewell At Mar a Lago
By: HOLLAND Date: March 12, 2023, 11:29 am
---------------------------------------------------------
They went to dine at a seafood restaurant by the water in West
Palm Beach, a restaurant known for its seafood and by its fine
carpeting, amber colored oak walls and tables. Mack was
familiar with the seafood to be found in Florida.
Mack enjoyed eating the many kinds of deep sea fish that often
graced many Floridian tables. Mack was also skeptical of the
local oysters, much preferring the oysters to be found in the
Northern states such as Maine, Washington and Alaska. He was
assured by Collins that he wouldn’t be disappointed with the
cuisine of this restaurant. He wasn’t. The men went for a
specialty offered by this establishment, oyster pie. They dined
on dinner salads and slices of oyster pie topped with a thin
crust coated with parmesan cheese and thinly grated shallots and
garlic.
At one point of the dinner, Collins asked Mack a question in the
usual coded language, since they were in a moderately filled
restaurant and there was a chance of being overheard. “In the
last sense,” Collins asked, “would you consider your interviews
with AUTARCH a war of words?” AUTARCH was the informal code
word for Trump within the AAP.
Mack could think of more unflattering code words for the man.
“I suppose so,” Mack replied. “The man was always challenged
people with his words.”
Devin intruded. “Who would you say that won in your
conversations?” he asked.
“I suppose it would be in the eye of the beholder, Devin. Many
would say that AUTARCH had won all his conversations with me
since I couldn’t persuade him to change his ways or his
policies.”
“You spoke with him, Mack, in a manner that many people would
have dreamed to speak to him if they had the opportunity to do
so,” said Collins. “I suppose that you had the best chance, of
any, in changing his opinions.”
“I suppose so,” said Mack. “I wanted him to acknowledge what
he’s experienced in life. I wanted him to acknowledge the grief
he’s experienced and what grief he’s visiting upon others.”
“AUTARCH wouldn’t ever acknowledge his own grief,” said Collins.
“He seeks to shut himself off from all of the hurt he’s
experienced. By his words, he closes himself off from others.”
“Regrettably, that may be the case.” said Mack.
“I think that he’s beyond words. Perhaps, he’s never listened
to anyone.” said Devin. “Perhaps, like all the others, you’ve
allowed him to verbally escape, letting him win his
conversations like all the others who’ve talked to him over his
lifetime.”
“Perhaps,” said Mack. “The man always needs an escape.
Certainly, on one level, AUTARCH must always be, in his own
eyes, the winner.”
“Then he won your war of words,” said Devin, “and your
conversations with him were, in the end, pointless.”
“I would disagree,” said Mack. “It had to be ventured. That
man is a lost soul, and a lost soul has need for those rare,
frank words that should be spoken, even if those words are to be
rejected.”
“He’s a lost soul,” agreed Collins. “Perhaps, in the end, you
didn’t win. But it doesn’t matter whether you’ve won or lost.
The words of many of his supporters will cover his false words
with their own false words, and the tragedy will go on.”
“It will go on for a long time,” agreed Mack. “But it cannot
last. Liars eventually burn themselves out.”
“I hope that that is so,” said Collins. “I'm impressed how
you've spoken to Trump out of the commonality of a harsh
childhood.”
Mack nodded. “I think that’s why AUTARCH had put up with me.
We’ve suffered much at the hands of narcissists. We’re much the
same, like two old derelicts living on the streets. We’re both
beggars in the end. The only difference between us is that he’s
a better panhandler than me, and the alleys and cardboard boxes
he sleeps in are a bit bigger.”
“One thing is clear,” said Devin. “AUTARCH has won all his
critical battles. I think that he’ll eventually escape
punishment for his crimes. I think we’ve failed in dealing with
him.”
“He won’t escape who he is,” said Mack. “Narcissists in old age
descend into a living hell which they spent a lifetime creating.
After he’s lost his health in old age, he’ll be lonely and
angry, at war with his doctors, nurses, and their aides. He’ll
know that his family, who will visit him from time to time, will
not truly love him. It will only be their inheritances that
will bond them to him, and to each other. As his money is
frittered away, even they will leave him. He will hate and be
hated by many. Nobody will please him. His memories will haunt
him. Behind all that vainglory, he’ll know himself for who he
is, a hollow man, and it will gnaw at him. He will die a
bitter, dejected man.”
“He’s then little more, in the end, a derelict, sleeping in a
cardboard box in an alley somewhere,” said Devin.
“Precisely,” said Mack.
Collins gently brought the conversation back to other subjects.
Mack didn’t participate much in those discussions, except for
talking about some fly fishing in Montana and Idaho. From what
he heard of fishing from Devin, Devin had done a lot of fly
fishing in Pennsylvania. They spoke about how their wives
prepared baking and pan-frying trout. The conversation went
well with the food.
Later, Collins, Devin and Brooks, drove Mack to a secluded park
in West Palm Beach. The men walked to a place among some hedges
and trees to a place where Mack would be concealed from view and
from where he could teleport unseen by the public. Only these
men would be privileged to witness his teleportation, something
that was rarely done.
Along the way, Devin asked, “Is it true that you’ve walked on
the Moon, then on Mars, and later Europa and Pluto, with Prisca
Lovec, in the humanoid exoform available to the Star People?”
“We have done so,” said Mack.
“Some derelict life you live,” said Devin smiling, “some
cardboard box.”
“All human life is more limited than you think, Devin. We are
all faint particles in the immensity of the universe. In the
end, we’re all derelicts in existence, I think.”
Mack and the men paused and watched, in silence, the blossomed
bushes gently swaying in the breeze. It was a moment of beauty,
in the stillness, in the color of the bright sunlight. Mack
reflected, that what Devin, Collins, and Brooks didn’t know, was
that Mack wouldn’t be returning to another part of the Earth’s
planetary surface. He would leave the universe as they knew it
and teleport directly into the paradimension where the Star
People live.
He would teleport to the Solargate, the great paradimensional
biodome of the Star People, and would find himself standing on
one of the portal plates in the forum located there. He would
then gaze upon the great gas giant Saturn and the glory of its
rings as it could be seen through the dome’s massive firmament.
Shortly after that, he would see his longtime girlfriend,
Prisca, coming towards him through the crowded forum. She will
have been waiting for him for a long time. It would be good to
look into her brown eyes and to embrace her. It would be good
returning home.
He would miss living in America. He had loved and served his
country for a long time, but now the war for its existence was
being handed down to other generations of humans and psionics.
Mack wished them well. He reflected that without love and
trust, without community, no nation can continue to exist. And
that was true of the American nation.
Mack softly said goodbye to the three men standing under the
shades of the trees in front of him. They replied their
goodbyes back to him. Mack mentally concentrated upon the act
of a deep space teleportation. He visualized standing at his
place on one of the Solargate’s portal plate’s familiar to him.
He felt time and space change all around him, and then he was
gone.
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CONTROLLED PROGRAM INFORMATION --ACCESS LIST D
ENCODED GLYPHSCRIPT ONLY
THIS REPORT CANNOT BE PUT INTO ANY OTHER MEDIA FORM WITHOUT
CENTRAL ACCESS PERMISSION.
SCI/SCIF-POTOMAC
SCI/SCIF-PARKHAM
SCI/SCIF-CHEYENNE
SUMMARY REPORT 20221107
ARCHON DIRECTORATE
20221107-0255 0900GMT—BUNKER JOINT BASE ANDREWS
[1]GENERAL PROGRAM SECURITY STATUS IS UNCHANGED. PROGRAM
SECURITY HAS BEEN DETERMINED BY INTERNAL AFFAIRS TO BE SOUND.
(SEE ATTACHMENT FILE ONE).
[2-1]GROUP MIND POTOMAC CONFIRMS THAT THE MIND LOCK EMPLACED ON
PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP BY PSION ADRIAN STEMPLE REMAINS SOUND.
GROUP MIND POTOMAC CONFIRMS BY ITS MOST RECENT EXAMINATION THAT
ITS SEALS ARE INTACT AND THAT ITS FUNCTIONING DIAGNOSTICS ARE
WITHIN PARAMETERS.
[2-2]EVALUATION-TEAM EAST’S MAIN EVALUATION OF THE PRESIDENT’S
MENTAL STATE REMAINS UNCHANGED. REFERENCE FOR THIS IS FOUND IN
THE REPORTS SUPPLIED BY LIASONS FBI/CSS AND JCS/CSSE (SEE
ATTACHMENT FILE TWO).
[3-1]THE OPERATION TO REMOVE THE LUCIDITY TEMPLATE OF THE FORMER
PRESIDENT’S MIND LOCK HAS BEEN COMPLETED. ARCHON DIRECTORATE
HAS DETERMINED THAT PSION ADRIAN STEMPLE COMPLETED THIS
OPERATION SUCCESSFULLY AS MONITORED BY GROUP MIND POTOMAC. THE
PSI-SUPPRESSION FIELD WAS CAVITATED TO PRODUCE THIS RESULT. THE
ACTUARY OF GROUP MIND POTOMAC WAS U.S. DEPUTY MARSHAL JAMES
DEVIN; THE OPERATIONAL HEAD OF THIS OPERATION WAS SECRET SERVICE
SUPERVISOR, MICHAEL COLLINS.
[3-2]THE PSI-SUPRESSION FIELD WAS REMOVED FROM THE VICINITY OF
THE FORMER PRESIDENT AS OF 1100 HRS, 20221022. EVAL-TE HAD
DETERMINED THAT THE PRESIDENT’S ANTI-PSI MIND SHALL BE
SUFFICIENT TO PROTECT HIM IN THE FUTURE. IT HAS BEEN DETERMINED
THAT TRUMP, IN HIS MENTAL DETERIORATION, WILL CONTINUE TO REMAIN
A DANGER TO NATIONAL SECURITY GIVEN HIS PROBABLE ACCESS TO
UNRECOVERED CLASSIFIED DOCUMENTATION AND TO HIS LACK OF LOYALTY
TO THE CONSTITUTION. UPON THE ADVICE OF THE IG, AN APRATOR AND
A COWL WILL STILL REMAIN ASSIGNED TO HIS SECURITY DETAIL (SEE
ATTACHMENT FILE THREE).
[4]FBI/CSS AND JCS/CSSE REPORT NO INFORMATION SUPPLIED REGARDING
JUDICIAL INVESTIGATIONS CONCERNING THE PRESIDENT. THE MIND
LOCKS THAT REMAIN EMPLACED UPON THE NINE OTHER GOVERNMENT
OFFICIALS ARE STILL FUNCTIONING ACCORDING TO PARAMETERS AND
THEIR SEALS ARE INTACT. THE REMAINING ELEMENTS OF OPERATION
PLAN ANVIL ARE NOW CANCELLED. THE SECURITY LEVEL IS STILL
ENCODED RED PER INTERNAL SECURITY GIVEN THE ONGOING CRIMINAL
CONSPIRACY INVOLVING THE 2020 ELECTION AND THE INSURRECTION OF
JANUARY 6. (SEE ATTACHMENT FILE FOUR).
ATTACHMENTS:
FILE ONE: CURRENT PROGRAM SECURITY 20220407
FILE TWO: CURRENT MENTAL LOCK STATUS/MENTAL STATUS OF FORMER
POTUS
FILE THREE: MAR A LAGO OPERATIONAL STATUS BRIEF
FILE FOUR: CURRENT STATUS RELEVANT JUDICIAL
INVESTIGATIONS/SECURITY REQUIREMENTS
GYPHSIGNATURES DIRECTORATE RECORDED BELOW
SECRETARY, FIRST ARCHON 19660318-SN227
DIRECTORATE CONFIRMS FINAL SUMMARY REPORT W/ATTACHMENTS
20221718-0321 17250GMT—BUNKER JOINT BASE ANDREWS
CONTROLLED PROGRAM INFORMATION - - ACCESS LIST D
ENCODED GLYPHSCRIPT ONLY
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¬-----------------------------------
CONTROLLED PROGRAM INFORMATION --ACCESS LIST H
ENCODED GLYPHSCRIPT ONLY
TOP SECRET
THIS REPORT CANNOT BE PUT INTO ANY OTHER MEDIA FORM WITHOUT
ARCHON ACCESS PERMISSION.
SCI/SCIF-POTOMAC
SCI/SCIF-PARKHAM
SCI/SCIF-CHEYENNE
ARCHON REPORT 20230417
ARCHON DIRECTORATE
20230417 1730GMT—BUNKER JOINT BASE ANDREWS
[1]ARCHON DIRECTORATE HAS BEEN ADVISED THROUGH THE IKORRCENI
PREFECTURE THAT PSION ADRIAN MACHEATH STEMPLE IS NOW OFF-SYSTEM
AND SHALL NO LONGER BE EMPLOYED FOR FIELD WORK WITHIN THE UNITED
STATES OR IN ANY OTHER COUNTRY ON-PLANET. HIS NEW ASSIGNMENT
INVOLVES STRICTLY INTERSTELLAR ADMINISTRATION. IT IS UNLIKELY
THAT HE SHALL EVER RETURN TO THE UNITED STATES.
[2]PSION VIGIL STEMPLE HAS BEEN ASSIGNED TO THE PREFECTURE OF
PLANET LANTOS 5, FOR THE NEXT TWO YEARS. KNOWN INFORMATION
ABOUT THIS PLANET IS THAT IT HAS A PLEISTOCENE BIOSPHERE AND
THAT IS LACKING ANY ORIGINAL HUMANOID SAPIENTIAL SPECIES. THIS
INFORMATION WAS PROVIDED BY PREFECTURE CONTACT, PSION MARK
EAGLECLAW, IN THE LAST IKORRCENI MEETING (12-2022) CONCERNING
STAR SYSTEMS OF INTEREST TO HUMANITY.
[3]PSION VIGIL STEMPLE WITH HIS COMPANION, PRISCA LOVEC, HAD
VECTORED TO THAT STAR SYSTEM 4 MARCH 2023. PSION MARK EAGLECLAW
ADVISES THAT, PER HIS ASSIGNMENT DUTIES, HE SHALL CONDUCT, AS
NEEDED, PATROL AND CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIONS. HIS PRIMARY DUTY
STATION WILL BE ON LANTOSMERE, THE CITY FLOATING IN THE SKY OF
THAT PLANET, AND IN THE LANTOSGATE, THE PARADIMENSIONAL BIODOME
THAT IS ASSOCIATED WITH THIS INTERSTELLAR JURISDICTION (CALLED
THE LANTOS GATESTATA). HE MAY ALSO DO DEEP SPACE PATROL WORK
WITHIN THAT JURISDICTION, IN A THREE PERSON STARSHIP. IT HAS
BEEN DISCLOSED THAT VIGIL STEMPLE IS NOT YET RATED FOR
INVESTIGATIVE WORK WITH THE IKORRCENI STARFLEET AND WILL NOT YET
BE ASSIGNED TO THIS TYPE OF DUTY. THIS INFORMATION WAS PROVIDED
BY PERMISSION OF PREFECT AKKO KRYKR SALIC.
[4]PREFECT SALIC ADVISES THAT PSION WARWICK DAVID COTA WILL
REMAIN AVAILABLE FOR THE MAINTENANCE OR REMOVAL OF ALL REMAINING
ACTIVE MIND LOCKS THAT HAVE BEEN EMPLACED ON AMERICAN CITIZENS
AS HAVE BEEN SANCTIONED BY THE AAP FOR PROGRAM SECURITY.
GYPHSIGNATURES DIRECTORATE RECORDED BELOW
FIRST ARCHON 19660318
SECOND ARCHON 19880211
THIRD ARCHON 19870104
FOURTH ARCHON 19991023
FIFTH ARCHON 19940523
20230417 10:22 GMT—BUNKER JOINT BASE ANDREWS
CONTROLLED PROGRAM INFORMATION - - ACCESS LIST H
TOP SECRET
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