Monday, June 27, 2016



Temecula, CA – The following report is meant to be taken as fantastic, because it is. Were it not for the fact that I wrote a memoirs expressing the esoteric side of cannabis, what follows could not be revealed. Note that I said revealed, not good or bad. Much like the trio of upcoming films Dr. Strange, and the new ones from Tom Hanks [Angels & Demons] and the new retro Star Wars, elements of all 3 movies have met at a point like a spear tip in my life as a journalist, activist, and writer. If you remember the briefcase in Pulp Fiction or know the legend of The Holy Grail, well, like Neo, I met The Architect.

Let me first say that this report will only cover two things, as what was experienced is still reverberating, and will be till the end. What's covered this time are these two things. The identity as much as possible, of Deep Throat, and what the Bilderburgs have planned of importance to my readers. Let those who have anointed eyes, read on. Nuff said.

It all started when I got that last riddle, concerning Wilson Pickett and Cawston Ave. Given the last time I ran into DT and the area, I decided to google map it and look for Cawston first. Bingo. Following it along I soon came to Mustang [Wilson Pickett, Mustang Sally], and sur'n shit, there was a park at that intersection. I mapped out my bus route and later caught the 79 for what I thought would be more of the same as our meetings had gone. Boy, was I wrong.

I had done my homework on the name of the park so I felt prepared to ask some questions I was curious about, the first being, 'why was this park named after someone who never lived in the area? What was the significance of that? Who did it?

As I stepped off the bus, I looked over at the distant bench and covered area. There wasn't anyone much and so I figured to settle in, but before I could start, a flash of car lights down the block caught my eye. I looked over. It seemed our meeting wasn't going to be in the park after all. I walked over feeling a little uneasy, but remembering what they say in Hollywood. Besides, it's what you do to get the story.

“Get in the back.”

I opened the back door behind the driver and got into the back seat.

“You're an asshole.”

“Well, it's nice to see you again, too.”

“Do you know what you did? Because of you I lost a bet. I don't lose bets.”

“You lost because of me?”

“Measure E lost.”

“Really? That's not what I saw that last time I read anything in the locals. When did this happen?”

“Trust me, it happened. I'm a lot more inside than whatever you read. So are you. Anyway, I'll tell you along the way, cause I got a bet for you. Buckle up.”

The car pulled away from the curb.

“See the small covered box over on the floor [opposite to where I was in back seat and covered with a rug]?”


“The group I am a part of are responsible for more than just erecting granite tombstones, my friend. We don't just plan for the world or run the world either, we keep the world's secrets. There are things that people wouldn't understand.”


“I'm going to drive for awhile and then I'm going to stop, get out of the car and be gone for 20 minutes. Call it a bathroom break. While I'm gone, you can look at what's under the rug. I'm betting you won't.”

“What is it, or do I have to guess?”

“No, no, and I would tell you if I knew, really, cause I like you. But I have never seem whatever it is inside that crate. I do have the key for it though. That I will put here on the console for you when we get to where I'm going.”

“What's the catch? I didn't come in on last night's cabbage wagon.”

“Do you really know why we went into Iraq?”

“For the oil and because Saddam was going to start using his own currency?”

“For the relics.”


“Yes, the relics. They got the ones they were looking for from the Museums and now ISIL is taking care of the rest.”

“Why relics?”

“Do you know why ISIL is destroying all the relics they come across?”

“They have this belief that they are idols, or at least being used that way by other Muslims.”

“I'm going to say 3 words to you and then this conversation changes to matters at hand. Ancient alien technology.”


“Bu,but. Under the rug is why I said you were an asshole. I didn't believe that you [and the Calendar] could sway that many voters. My overconfidence made me place a bet with a transportation clerk intern. Now I have to transport this, the thing, to a new location. I asked myself, who should I share my good fortune with. Ahh, the person who brought it to me, that's who.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“No, no, you don't understand. I'm about to do you a favor, sort of. You want to know what's really going on. You know a lot but you don't know it all. I'm offering you a chance to know it all. Everything.

“OK, now I'm curious. What is in the box, or supposed to be?”

“It's an ancient relic, rumored to give the viewer the 'keys to the universe' or reveal the most hidden truths. Oh, and this looks like where I want to pull in. I'm going to pull over there away from the rest of the cars under that tree for some shade for you. Also if I come back and find you incinerated I don't want a bunch of nosy folks gawking.”


He turned around.

“The office scuttlebutt was this relic will reveal its secrets only to those who are worthy, in some mumbo jumbo fashion, or at least that is what this intern told me. I'm going to be gone, oh, and one more thing, the ones that don't meet the criteria? Well, it's the last thing they see.

You're either that guy, out of my hair, or out of my life by walking away. I'm going to the bathroom and get a hot coffee. There's a bus stop not far from here. Remember, 20 minutes. Maybe see you around, like a doughnut.”

I looked at the key as he walked out of sight. It was ornate, old and heavy. I pulled out my vape pen and took a rip. Blew out the slight amount of vapor, then took another one. The head change hit and I thought about what I was going to do, or more, what I felt about what I was going to do. I was anxious but there was no fear or dread. I thought about everybody I knew and how my life had seen so many instances of magic, or what I called magic because many of these experiences seemingly had nothing to do with religion. I took one more vape, put the key into the lock and turned. The crate opened. I lifted the lid and there was something like an ancient chest about the width and length but not depth of a briefcase. I turned its handle and felt some mechanism release, then the lid popped up just a bit. A glow could be seen inside. Fuck it, I said to myself.

Obviously, from the opening, you know that I survived and learned some secrets. Trying to describe what happened would be fruitless since an esoteric experience is both felt and absorbed. Perhaps the closet way to explain ancient alien tech is to compare it to smart gun technology, except it was been programmed for you long ago. Being A.I. the tech recognizes you, like R2D2. Unlike R2D2, you don't just see a picture, you see wisdom and knowledge combined. You meet The Architect in your mind. Though time seemed to stop, when I closed the box and put the rug back over it, I had a minute to spare and I got out of the car. I didn't wonder about having a minute to spare. In fact, I no longer wondered about anything.

End of Part 1. Next, The Plan And The Net

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