The Mob couldn't begin to compete. In the beginning the Council knew how to work the different factions of the Mob for the Council's benefit and gain. Once the Council attained the strength they needed to get over the hump and into the big money, they outsmarted the Mob with their mind control technology and were then able to control the Mob. It was a game of intellect and the Council won-checkmate!
Joe Kennedy, William Randolph Hearst, J.P. Morgan and others were part of a powerful underground group. They created their own revenue and their own justice, and they knew how to play by the rules to stay alive and in the game, but the rules suddenly changed with the power created by the Council as they utilized the Mob's success and made it their own. People like Jack (JFK) didn't play by the new rules so they got snuffed.
Often when I was sent in to target JFK, I would be loaded with messages from the different mobsters like Uncle Frank (Sinatra). I gave instructions for JFK to do some favor for the Mob or else, he was told, "the small, sweet favors will dry up." JFK scared me because he always laughed and acted like he didn't take the messages with the seriousness I believed they carried. I had seen Uncle Frankie in operation and he had friends, lots of them, who killed people for nothing much at all, and I was afraid that if JFK didn't listen and do as they said that they would kill him, too. But he didn't seem the least bit concerned about them …ever. I took them even more seriously after JFK was killed. Then I knew they weren't joking but were very serious and meant what they said about doing everything they said or be killed.
I heard Uncle Frank talk often about people's positions in the Mob. He talked to lots of Mob buddies in front of me. I was used for dangerous connections and, as far as Frank and Dean Martin were concerned, I knew far too much, so they wanted me to "sleep with the fishes." But Henry wouldn't hear of losing his "personal computer" and threatened serious retaliation if they harmed me. Henry had a new kind of power that the Mob didn't understand at first, until they got burned a few times. Then they understood. But some serious action had to be taken to prove this power, like, as I overheard, "the assassination of a President and his big mouth brother who just wouldn't listen," in order for the Mob — a strong political faction of it — to see where the new power lie, so they would know to back off. By then the banks and newspapers were taken over and reorganized by the Council and their constituents, and HIGH LEVEL TECHNOLOGY took over — something the Mob knew nothing about. It took the wind out of their sails. This was happening during the 60's and early 70's, when I was only a teenager approaching early adulthood, and listening and recording everything I heard per instructions from my boss, Henry Kissinger.
One day in his office, Henry said, "You won't be servicing him (JFK) much longer. The higher ups have some alternate plans for him." At the time I felt he meant death. Henry said, "This will lock you in for life." Later, they used JFK's death on me heavily.
When JFK was killed I was in junior high school and my controllers told me, "If we can take out the President without anyone knowing, who would miss the likes of you?" They told me I was dispensable, easily replaceable, and that no one would ever miss me if I were gone. To give me a clear example the suited man reminded me, "Does your mother even have a clue where you are right now? NO. So who would miss you? Not even your own mother."
In order to insure that I was under program and their total control they continued the ritual torture and trauma. Then they tied the ritual trauma that occurred at home or at the church across the street from my junior high school to songs or hypnotic commands, like "If you try to begin to recall this area of your mind, you will immediately recall this horror scene," which they reminded me of in complete detail, in order to keep me terrified and programmed.
Most people are now familiar with Marilyn Monroe's connection to the Kennedy family and her use with the President. It has been said by insiders that Marilyn was one of the first programmed Presidential models, created under mind control for sex with the President and use in Hollywood connections. While I did not possess the physical beauty that Marilyn Monroe did, I had the mind files and all the right connections to further my controller's interests.
For my assignments, when I wasn't flown out of LAX, I left from Van Nuys Airport, John Wayne Airport, or local helicopter pads that were atop buildings in Los Angeles. My mother took me and picked me up and nursed me back to life if I was hurt or really messed up mentally or psychologically. She would try to make me eat if I couldn't and she put me to bed. I was usually so out of it from the food and sleep deprivation and electroshock done for "National Security purposes" to keep memory of the events safely away from my conscious awareness, that I often couldn't think to bathe, eat or get into bed to sleep. My mom would tell me what to do and the parts of me that participated in these escapades always felt so relieved to be back in my clean bed at home. In my attempt to create some semblance of safety and security I slept against the wall to remind myself I was in my own bed and safe. That was, until my father came into my room at night-then the nightmare started all over again. More than anything in the world I wanted my mother, or someone, to help me-to protect me-to stop the nightmarish experiences. But she never could.
I will do everything in my power to stop these atrocities from happening, so that my daughter, my sons, and any future children born into our family will not have to suffer any longer. I am sure the Mob with their huge capacity for family love and loyalty will understand and pardon this need I have. And to Dr. Kissinger, Bob Hope, UCLA, CIA, NASA, U.S. Department of Defense and all those who participated in my family's high-tech programming, I ask that you honor this request for my family's freedom and safety. I will hold you in prayer, asking God to show you the ramifications of your actions.
"Be ye kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you."
Chapter Seven: All the way with LBJ
Lyndon Johnson was a very tall and large man. He had a pocket watch on a chain that he wore in a high pocket in his vest or coat, not in his pants. He wore glasses to read. I remember him sitting at his desk reading on into the night. The rest of the room was dark except for the light on the desk that he was reading by. He liked to wear his hat even when he was inside. He just loved his hat. He told me his hat was a Stetson and that back where he came from it was the best… "Like a Cadillac," he explained. His clothes smelled of cologne and his suits were often gray or brown and he often wore boots. He wore big white baggy boxer shorts and they didn't ever look new, as one would think a person in his position would wear. He had a bridge with a few false teeth on it, smoked a cigar at times and other times he puffed on a pipe.
On this occasion, he kept me in the bed in the darkened hotel room while he sat at the desk to finish up reading his papers. Then he turned off the light and came over to the bed where I was tucked in, wearing a skimpy teddy. It was cold in the room. All Lyndon had on was his boxers and brown socks. He laid his clothes by the table and chairs, and when he walked to the bed he pulled his penis out of the hole in his boxers and pulled my head over to him. He commanded, "Suck," while he pulled my hair to bring me closer to him. He stood, moaning with pleasure and then complained that he was needing to bend over too far so I got up on my knees and finished. He gratified himself in my mouth and liked to watch me swallow. Then LBJ climbed into bed and held me like I was a teddy bear and asked me to rub his back. One time he had me get out of bed to get him a cigar. He wanted me to light it but I wasn't very good at it because I was just a kid. I coughed a lot and nearly choked to death, but I got it to him in bed all lit. I handed him the cigar and he said, "Thank you, little lady." He usually called me that. He didn't want to go to sleep right away and had me turn the TV on for him. He never took his socks off the whole time.