Disclosure - White Noise ft. AlunaGeorge

The noise to signal ratio is now unmistakable. I've never discussed or even been asked why I believe the Q psychological operation was and is the best and only solution on the table. Now the clamour is unmistakable and it's rising fast. President Trump has chimed in and dropped multiple hints that it's happening or 'habbening' as is used in Anon slang.

There's been false starts over the years. Incorrect readings of the drops. Premature interpretations of external events and repeated dashed hopes, but there's no mistaking it this time. I think this October is going to be the month when normies will be forcibly awoken and nothing will ever be the same again. Then as per Q drop 3387 I anticipate approximately 12 months of revelations/resolutions and solutions I guess. Then some kind of cosmic conclusion... maybe.

I don't hold hatred in my heart if I can. The quicker I can forget any intentional harm directed at me the better I am, especially if I can excise any perps from my life. So I say this to the witches, the child rapists, the covens, the ritual child abusers, the satanists, the adrenochrome chasers, the masons, baphomet worshippers, blood drinkers, servants of moloch and the Luciferians who used to run the show that is now evaporating in the golden dawn of each rising sun.

You are Fucked - That's not directed with any malice. I've got my own shit to sort out now it's at long last habbening. 

You have far more serious  and grave matters to attend to.

Nothing can stop what's coming.

Raffa Guido - Fama

Reality-Check ௹﷼⨌∰ↈ Augmentations

This is a portrayal of schizophrenic degradation over a period of years by a patient drawing cats; I think in the late 1920's. I don't want to get into the why a lot of mental disease is exacerbated by 20th century problem/pill solutions but I think it's a useful benchmark for codifying drifting reality.

I quite like the fire god pussy at the end. Frankly it looks splendid and if that's what cats look like, then I want some of that. Well, rather that than the cheeky catwalk turn and that exposed-in-my face feline arsehole they serve up currently.

I also want to introduce to you something I came across from my subscription to dope nation the other day that I've been holding back for you while I get over  Wittgenstein's mesmerizing come down. Truly he is the peak.

In a way it's 'a' good coincidence, as I specifically want to talk about the effects of morphine, because when I've been screaming so loud at an entire hospital complex, to put me out my pain they jacked me up on 200mg of Pethadine AND 200 mg of morphine (eight times the hourly dose they prefer to administer) that it's only when I saw this picture that I realised what went on through the blinding pain. 

By this I mean that even though it's the most cathartic transfer of schmerz to no pain in my life, I previously had no idea that beneath the sea of doped up tranquility, that what was really going on in the hospital bed festooned with pipes and wires and drips and gastric pipes up my nose was a lotta lotta sedated neurological activity.

OF COURSE NOW I SEE. The mind was merely being deceived. And I think you can view that in these pictures below which frankly are the most dangerous artistic and neurological experiment I have come across to date that the morphine tricked me into thinking the pain had gone away. Here the portrait of Bryan on Morphine that demonstrate otherwise.

And so I claim that the Psilocybin (magic mushroom) below, is ostensibly cheekier, funnier, more dramatic and a little bit bucking bizarre. But as I've done both, I'm allowed to shoot my mouth off about that. 

There's a lot more of the artist Bryan Lewis Saunders doing drugs for us all; that is him, you and I over here. 

Update: I can't find the exact post but Clif High talked about using snow to diminish burnt toes and the pain duration lasting infinitely longer than just dealing with it sans snow.

X

Also the Sun Goddess Osiris the Egyptian version of Babylonian Nimrod. Things go back way further than most appreciate or comprehend.

Not long now. Days and weeks, not months and years. Already on for me in their illegal taxation jurisdiction.

They been around since Nimrod specifically & observe very strict rules. Like the cilice in The Da Vinci Code - Discipline. When the Morgans & Rothschild tricked Astor, Guggenheim & Strauss families into Titanic drowning.

It's accepted. It's respected. They do it to their own** pic.twitter.com/lq7qWe6ber

— CharlesFrlth (@CharlesFrlth) July 13, 2023

The Difference Between Mason & Freemason

...Brother can you spare me a dime

Tates & Greta

When I first saw an Andrew Tate video clip online, I could see he was an affluent and entrepreneurial man. I enjoyed his analysis delivered at 2X normal conversation pace. He's fast, smart and fun. However, his story didn't make sense. Nobody who makes more than a certain amount of crinkle can talk about the things he discusses. Nobody gets a global voice like he has without playing the game. I had no background knowledge of his life, so I left it as I didn't know what his name was back then.

There's a ton of stuff we agree on. It's nice when we don't have to dumb the conversation down about 9/11, fractional reserve, and central banking; fiat currency or even just how power, the occult and the esoteric work together. He's done his homework and that matters. He's a strong mind and is ostensibly disciplined. Abstemious from drugs and alcohol, Andy encourages his young followers to be the same, including for pornography. He believes in encouraging young men (his global audience) to be strong, focused and disciplined which is a message sorely needed in young men, though his schtick is essentially women are property. 

I was surprised to learn, that he's the most Googled (English Language) person on the planet, but there's obvious red flags. I recall him describing how he handled the women who worked for his breakout adult webcam business. It was boastful and completely crass. He moved on to casinos after that and I believe his newest enterprise is an online 'university' for 18-23 year old males who want to be like him.

Andrew's pronunciation flips from American to Cockney with certain words, and it's a small blind spot for him, like when people say 'how very apropos' in order to impress without looking into how to use it. It makes me cringe and for a person who prides themselves on attentiveness. What else is he blind to? There's nothing wrong with picking up an accent when living abroad but two pronunciations at any one time is comedic at best, and a car crash at worst.

I picked up some more details without making much effort. He's a kickboxer, an entrepreneur, a materialist, a cigar smoking supercar collector, recent convert to ersatz Islam and a braggard as is his younger brother Tristan who I only discovered existed when I came across the video above. Tristan is like a double for Andrew. It's good they're close, but most siblings depart from mimicry when looking to discover the world for themselves. It was my first dive into researching the Tates, so I listened and watched them for just under an hour to try and understand why they are always looking to tell people how to be like them.

My instincts were confirmed in the 44th minute and around the 40 second mark (see video above). Andrew asks Tristan "How many cars do we own now, is it 36?". Tristan replies it's "33 cars" and cannot help but grin his face off.

It's an important detail because only seven weeks earlier on October 10 2022 Andrew claimed in this interview he has 28 cars. What sort of strawman gazillionaire remembers on each retelling, exactly how many webcam sex workers he had in his employ, but forgot if he bought a Lamborghini or a McLaren yesterday?

It's as if his story doesn't hang together quite right under the mildest of interrogation.

So the 33 is the revelation of the method. They're on the same team as Greta but different roles, different reporting structures and similar hierarchies. She is the 'Daughter of Light' and the boys are the 'Sons of Darkness' as it were. 

Thems the breaks.

Many will be unfamiliar with the reason for Tristan's ear to ear grin. The people who run things are occultists and so the esoteric, numerology, gematria and ritual, are all areas of expertise (as well as witchcraft). I'm not talking about the porch monkeys that provide cover through the Blue lodges 1st 2nd and 3rd degrees.

I'm talking about the the inner sanctum, of senior 32nd degree brethren, which in Scottish rite and its honorary 33rd degree confer status, requiring 'no extra esoteric initiation(s)', as I apprehend.

Image manipulation is deadly fast these days, but let's suppose Tate is adhering to the universal rules of disclosure and telling us he belongs to, or is owned by the cult.

Imagine if we can, his status and position in life could possibly be nothing to do with him. The optimal way to control an asset is by co-opting them. Sure he's a top martial artist, a first class hustler (yet Haram) and nobody's fool, but it's more than likely that his sponsors would be interested in shaping his business trajectory more than an outsiders like us, could possibly guess.

If they can Astroturf for examples sake, Bill Gates, Zuckerberg and Larry Ellison of Oracle into place through the CIA and their affiliates, a caricature like like the Tate Brothers wouldn't require much planning management.

Back of an envelope stuff for Tavistock.

I'm not saying this is the case, but unexpected actors can open a lot of revenue doors giving Andrew the illusion of being more gifted at wealth creation, than he actually is. He may also be just a cutout for the disaffected global young-males segment, or an asset watching the gravy flow while it can. He's toast if they want to throw him under a bus.

Many will find this hard to digest.

Greta is even more synthetic than Tate.

She's no doubt a victim and also troubling marionette with a One Foundation expense tab (Bono/Gates/Soros-funded), and a coach (handler) Luisa-Marie Neubauer, as well as a social media (programmer) public image handler Adarsh Prathap who wrote the small dick energy reply to Tate, that Greta gained the credit for. They are all there to flog a fake climate-crisis as part of the WEF 4th industrial revolution in lockstep with Agenda 2030 global-depop, and movement-restriction licences ++.

For no particular reason on December 27th, Andrew Tate allegedly tweeted at Greta Thunberg his gas guzzling supercar collection. Look, he's there to lead the disaffected young males market, and she's there to lead the charge for the free-lithium child slavery markets in DRC, and her pithy reply was memorable.

It's a good line. It was fun. It doesn't change that the Tates are knobs, and Greta behaves like a schoolgirl Robocop about to order 20 seconds to comply or she'll unload both barrels in an innocent bystanders face.

Tates and Greta Tintin Eleonora Ernman Thunberg are in my inconsequential opinion, both fanatics and deserve each other. It will be interesting to see what transpires but the whole Pizza/Romania Kabuki theatre was a skit. Do people really think the Romanian authorities cracked the case from the side of a Margherita pizza box? Tate knows what cheese pizza means, and if you don't, a strong constitution is required. 

The choice to know is yours, not mine.

Update: Part-confirmation of my analysis.

OMG Its Lucifer ^5

The Swiss & NHS Operating Theatres

ACT ONE

I was in a lot of pain and started taking Ibuprofen which always works a treat with me but as the days rolled by, then weeks I was taking them every four hours and towards the end they lost all efficacies. I started taking 2 Paracetemol, then 2 hours later 2 Ibuprofen - It is 2022 after all.

Four weeks into that regime and nothing was working and so I found a stashed antibiotic and necked that. It really helped for a couple of hours. A month of putting things off and I finally conceded I'd have to go to the Emergency Treatment Centre at the local hospital. They used to call it the walk-in clinic but if you ever been to one, 8 out of 10 cats have foot injuries, so it needed a rebrand from a somewhat limp name as it were.

So, I tipped-up at the ETC and as usual the waiting room was full of the rejects from Lourdes. I wasn't looking forward to a few hours with more miserable people, one of whom, naturally I considered to be myself. I approached the counter, and as I was wincing a bit I kind of had my spiel ready for the receptionist so there wouldn't be too many questions. I said my piece and she directed me to sit down in the waiting area with the rest of the crippled and maimed.

I'd barely sat down, when a voice came over the Tanoy (is that the right word? maybe 'speaker' so the youngsters can understand) "requesting Mr. Frith to report to Triage".

As I got up, I felt the entire waiting room's eyes outraged at my priority treatment, but they'd all heard my pitch and I asked for no preference, so I lurched forwards looking straight-ahead to keep the guilt concealed, but everybody knew.

Inside I was dealt with by a competent professional who was more worried I'd poisoned myself and ordered me a taxi for tests at Emergency in the General Hospital.

Living as a beach-bum in Asia I'd learned to sort out meds for myself on a shoestring budget as often, the important ones are available over the counter. This entire fuss could have been handled with antibiotics and a codeine prescription. Instead, it ended nearly three days later, and I'm ashamed to say, at considerable unnecessary cost to taxpayers.

ACT TWO

After getting trolleyed in A&E I was warned it would be a long wait. 

It was 6-9 hours punctuated by a 30ish but slight of frame, Indian nurse who came and held my arm.

It was both intimate, in a mammalian sense, perfectly soothing. How much cheaper health care will be when the value of a healing touch returns?

4 or 5 hours into the big wait, I knew I was being toyed with, so I sat up and pulled out the plastic Cannula in my arm. Bad move, blood started spurting everywhere, and so my escape was stymied by mopping the floor first with tissue.

I made it out. Ordered an UBER and sat down for a puff on the pipe.

A couple of security guys came out looking for me.

Are you Charles Frith?

The taxi pulled up, "no that's not my name I replied". 

Another guard turned up so that made it three security guards for an escapee patient. Heavy handed I thought.

I submitted in the end. 

It was out of embarrassment. I was fighting off all three guards in another man's taxi-carriage and means-of-living. So, I got out, and they nearly frogmarched me back to those boosters y'all used to love, but have since gone off... but which they were gagging to squeeze into me (how I handled that is classified).

After A&E I got the royal treatment again. King Charles, while not impressed, mentioned it was notable.

The guards checked me into a first-class Kubrick COVid Ward in white, then red and black. The receptionist had one of those 2001 head-encasing oxygen suits from Space Odyssey, and yeah, I get a bit triggered by Kubrick, but only in an enthusiastic manner as I've laid out many times before, under the Kubrick tag my friend.

I met a 32-year-old on blood thinners.

His life of drumming for a band [and Football career] all over due to the vaccine. He was great, he made an effort to talk to everyone on the VIP ward the systematic service had just misattributed myself into. I tried to be as candid with him as possible, therefore we talked about much more than myocarditis now scrubbed from the NHS website (and Pericarditis too).

On my life the night-ward Dr spent hours trying to get me more permanent relief than painkillers. I never asked for that, but it was a Promethean attempt at leaping bureaucratic hurdles, I heard every call. She protected me, a Muslim woman protecting an unknown Occidental fella, for hour after hour. Tell me there isn't bravery in the world. Even in the heights of Southampton.

It's not easy to reassemble, as warp-speed space and time, and more, play with the senses. As you well know...

I was awoken by a medical Dr/Teacher and his eager student faces. The smell of warm, freshly baked bread is far superior to smelling salts. I was fully engaged, and then heard him diagnosing me as type 3c.

I'd mentioned it to my GPs but none had any expertise, so my cursory research on the subject was dismissed. 

Not through malice, but through ignorance. There's no bitterness. That's a promise. This is now about pragmatism not driving the rear-view mirror

ACT THREE

I was trolleyed through the hospital corridors for what seemed an age in the dead-stillness of the Neon light.

Hushed tones

Sleeping beds

Whispered requests

Procrastination

Security Guards

Redress

My new Homies. I was in the Neurological ward.

None of us awoke at the same time when morning arrived, but the dawn light had risen, and eventually we commenced amiable conversation. 

Two beds with faces and the soles of their feet facing me. One bed curtained off to my immediate right. 

Windows to the left.

Mr Fawley directly opposite was most hospitable and we chatted about our lives while recuperating... from the very stories that had brought us together. We discussed eclipses and the introduction of light and its withdrawal. Eventually we touched on movies and Masterful Matey to the right chipped in that he liked war movies.

I asked him if he knew that Audy Murphy was the most decorated soldier of WWII?

No, he replied. What film was that?

To Hell & Back - 1955

He asked me if I knew the Latin for Mi Casa es su Casa. I said I thought there was a secret-society similar-story of sharing-meals idiom?

We bonded

Later on, he got his cock out for the bed I haven't mentioned.

He put him down in front of me.

It was a brotherly act

I told you we bonded.

The discharge nurse tried spitefully hard to cut my arm off with the replacement Canula before I bailed out. I swallowed the pain and pretended it was nothing. Why give her the satisfaction. Medical professional my arse. More like resident Satanist.

Nevertheless, that afternoon, I was untouchable. I'm not always untouchable, but when I am I can walk across hot coals like the rest of them.

I caught a taxi home carry a fivers worth of codeine, the antibiotics arrived a little late, but they're stored for a rainy day.

(I'll add the Swiss Intel anecdote later/still ongoing)

Manly P. Hall - The Secret Destiny of America & America's Assignment With Destiny

I've always struggled with Manly P. Hall's work in the past. Maybe it's because he's a 33 degree mason or the audio presentations of him on Youtube, which are Quite formal lectures and delivered in Quite a terse manner.

On this occasion though my esoteric and historical knowledge was sufficient to open up this book and turn pages that bloomed. The first hurdle I overcame was it finally sunk in that the Masonic influence of the founding fathers was from a time when senior masons were related to the mystery schools, or the holders of knowledge for a future time. 

These days senior Masons are usually cops or judges giving light sentences to Rotherham and Telford grooming rape-gangs, thereby demonstrating that their infiltration by the Illuminati, as warned by George Washington to William Russell really is complete.

Lop

Anyone with any familiarity of my big gob will know that I've been one of the loudest critics of the Pentagon, and US empire over the last couple of decades. It's so easy to see what the objectives are, and how easily the sheep are herded into pens of bleating unison, where Middle Eastern politics and conflict is portrayed as super complex when the reality is it's super simple and having a backbone is the key problem.

Nevertheless, even in my loudest social media days, I always knew that if America fails, we will all fall, and this book is pretty much about that destiny.

Years ago, I naively ripped former Defence Intelligence Director General Flynn apart in an interview with Mehdi Hasan. In recent years I've been aware of his belief in American Exceptionalism. Well I know I got that wrong, and updated my words on the subject, but Flynn, Trump, Q et al are (imo) right.

The exceptionalism is that without the success of the American project, the world will fall to one or two power-axis players that have a longer history of subjugating their own people, so why would that change if they became the preeminent power?

China for example has a weekly holocaust going on in Xinjiang against the Uighur. The wives are raped in jails, injected with mind bending chemicals and subjected to any number of humiliations and torture, for being Muslims instead of obedient Han Chinese. We don't know so much about this genocide, because Zionist Jews dominate Hollywood, and the news landscape.

There is only one eternal victim in that stale and obnoxious narrative.

America is in a perilous state at the moment. The Democratic party have stolen the election from Trump, and everyone knows it. The only one with any ideas was packing out stadium after stadium after stadium on a daily basis (sometimes as much as five Stadia a day) and his opponent could barely rustle up 50 people at a rally. The fake president is now doing presentations from his home in Delaware with Green Screens implying he's in the Whitehouse. 

There's so much fucked up noise in the background, I can't be energised to list all the warning signals but you might want to ask why Biden hasn't flown on Airforce One yet.

I'm not close enough to have a insight on what is really going on, but by going back to the old books such as The Secret Destiny of America, and armed with the knowledge that Q shared with us, I'm confident we're in for a tumultuous time that will end in vindication.

That's not a popular view in mainstream media circles but scratch at the surface and there are people much closer to the real story who believe as I do.