Hi, its David again. My wife says I ought to get a proper job. Yet few realise that ‘proper job’ is actually derived from the Sumerian reptillian overlord ‘proprietus jiobescu.’ To get such a ‘proper job’ would be an act of subjugation to the very bloodline that keeps us all in ‘work.’ Mind control is a very subtle thing, we all of us in our ‘democracies’ are kept in a state of wakeful slumberous forgetfulness. For example many now forget my early appearances on chat shows where I said I was Christ reincarnated or my purple jumpsuit
I continue my resistance to our secret masters and their network of STOP symbols placed on every street junction. As I explained in my last piece these symbols are an abbreviation of StOprah the reptillian bloodline that stretches all the way to the 'remember your spirit' Goddess of daytime tv. Further confirmation of the hypnotic quality of the symbol comes from the blood red clolor chosen for its background. This symbolises the reptillian obsession with pure blood. Last week I was tyrelevered out of a tumble drier having once again liberated myself by driving naked through a 'stop'sign, covering my eyes to deflect its hypnotic vibration and careering through the front window of Al's Launderama. No, I will not bow before our alien dictator proprietus jobescu especially when I can hang around Denver airport looking for the secret underground base where thousands of reptillians operate a vast global network of mind control. I have been searching there for two years now and i believe i am onto them. Last Thursday I followed a mysterious figure in a blue jumpsuit. Clearly this was the uniform of the reptillian hive i know to be in the catacombes below the airport.
the devilish figure
I followed the drone through a little door in the Mensroom and through a dim corridor. I saw the figure pass through a door and i followed. The door was marked 'Janitors,' clearly an abbreviation of Janisco of Torsus, the Babylonian reptillian bloodline that stretches through to the Rockerfellers. Inside I found a hive of reptillians whose role must be to protect the undergound base below. I witnessed one of them take ribs from a box, clearly these must be the remains of one of the thousands of children kidnapped from disneyland every year. The 'janitorian' warrior pressed human blood from a bottle on the table onto the carcass and could barely contain the desire for flesh as he tore again and again into the meat. Sickened I turned to see pictures of semi naked humans clustered on the walls, clearly depictions that show the low regard these reptillians have for human beings. Now I am nauseous and turn to go but my eyes catch sight of the crude effigies of humans kept for the reptillian drones amusement. Truly they are crude, just a long pole and a mop of ragged hair. These are the same effigies I have witnessed the drones crashing again and again into dirty water and thrusting angrily onto the dirty floor of the airport concourses. Clearly this demonstrates the hatred of the reptillian for the human. Only the subliminal messages surely hidden within the airport announcements keep the passengers from realising what is going on. I scream. Running away I hear many cries of 'stop', a clear attempt to brainwash the memory out of me by the invocation of their master StOprah.
Next morning my wife is once again on about proper jobs and I dont have the energy to tell my story. Anyhow she is looking at the newspaper and going on about some dork who was chased out of the janitors washroom by two puerto rican immigrant workers at Denver airport the day before so I keep quiet, not bothering to explain its a cover story cooked up by reptillian press barons. Anyway things arent great at home Doris (or Parvathi as she likes to be called now) has taken to a separate room and, if i press my ear to the door, i'm sure I can hear her enjoying a few Truth Vibrations on her own in there.