My wife Elizabeth and I had already made reservations at our favorite hotel in Santa Fe for an intimate Thanksgiving, also our 7th anniversary as a couple, when tragic news of the Club Q shooting reached us. It was the second mass shooting that week.
Since we’d be passing Colorado Springs on our way to Santa Fe we decided to make a stop to pay our respects to Club Q’s fallen. As we left the freeway and headed up Colorado Springs’ main drag, Academy Boulevard, experiencing what has to be one of the largest run of fast food joints and strip malls in ‘Merica, I said to Elizabeth we had to be prepared for possibility of a drive-by shooter. Elizabeth agreed we should not be deterred by fear.
Soon we spotted the temporary roadside memorial that has appeared in front of the strip mall that Q is part of on its backside. After circling the block for parking we pulled into the neighboring Walgreen’s lot. Walking the 100 years to the tragic site we joined about 30 people gathered in the little slice of road space delineated by a concrete barricade. On this day before Thanksgiving sadness hung in the air like nothing we’ve ever experienced but it was balanced by a deep feeling of so much love and respect for the five young LGBTQ people whose lives were cut short by hate and gun violence.
As someone who has reached his seventies and loved life, the good with the bad, I wept at the thought of these young people’s lives snuffed out by an angry stranger drunk on MAGA lies of Q of another and far dark sort. All for what? Trump?
Despite an angry white driver revving his grotesquely oversized white Ford pickup truck noisy motor as he waited at the light in protest to the show of love for the Q fallen, I said a meditation that humanity find a way out of all this maze of unbridled hate for anyone not conforming to outmoded religious prejudices that have lost their way in modern times.
I found Elizabeth talking in the crowd to a middle aged man and a woman from the Billy Graham institute. They seemed both out of place in their mission to spread the “good word”. Despite my reservations, I hugged them as a confirmation to my meditation and Elizabeth and I continued onto Santa Fe for our Thanksgiving. A Thanksgiving the fallen in the Club Q mass shooting were tragically deprived of.
All this fresh sorrow over the Club Q mass shooting took place less thanone year after a horrific Denver mass shooting took away a family friend. Alicia was head of Denver group called Sol Tribe. She operated a tatoo parlor just one-small-storefront-away her dear friend and business neighbor of my wife’s niece, Erika Righter. Alicia was one of four people killed by another rabid White Supremacist in a case that also garnered national media attention without a change to gun laws.
Here’s Erika’s recent op-ed in Westword where she discusses why we have to be much more careful to whom we donate money to after mass shootings and other tragedy’s if we want our contributions to reach the victims and the extended circle of traumatized survivors.
It’s with great pleasure I present a post from a woman I am honored to call my wife and partner in all things. As a 14-year veteran of U.S. Army’s military intelligence and special operations, Elizabeth speaks out about the Russian and GOP psyop we are fighting with an authority seldom found on the web. She served during Operations Urgent Fury, the invasion of Panama, Just Cause, Uphold Democracy, Desert Storm and Desert Shield. Elizabeth also served three years as a Chaplain’s assistant to the National Guard during the war in Afghanistan, the War On Terror and Operation Iraqi Freedom.
Lies of the Christian Patriarchy – By Elizabeth England
When I hear all lives matter in response to black lives matter it’s like telling me all houses matter and refusing to help my black friend put out his house on fire, because he’s not white. Black lives have been attacked since wicked Christian men kidnapped their African ancestors from their homes, sailed them a thousand miles away in chains, and sold them to wicked Christian slave owners. The racists say this is a white Christian nation. Their Bible provides guidance on how to treat slaves and does not condemn slavery as an abomination.
For centuries, white Christians have forced their religion on subjugated populations, ensuring they are under the thumbs of the powerful Christian God with slavery intact and the Bible revered by the enslaved. Imagine when famous Christian explorers like Columbus showed up to the indigenous peoples and forced acceptance of Christianity on pain of death. Or when the Catholic church used their religious schools on reservations to select human subjects for barbaric medical research. Jesus didn’t speak out against slavery. When you ask a racist white Christian what would Jesus do, well, it doesn’t include ending institutionalized ways to suppress and enslave others through legal and economic systems. They truly believe it’s their ‘right’ to suppress and enslave others and the bible gives it the seal of approval.
That’s embedded in the system so subtlely. And if, like the ‘born-again’ Christians say, you confess Jesus as your Lord and Savior, you really don’t have to worry about sin because Jesus died on the cross to remove the ‘wages of sin,’ or death, promising you everlasting forgiveness and life in heaven (not here but after you die. Always wondered about why you have to die to experience heaven?) So ‘if’ slavery is a sin, and if you’re ‘born again,’ you still have the free pass to heaven even if you are a predator upon other human beings.
The church has become the protector of child molesters and other monumentally wicked leaders across the world. It makes me cringe when I hear my white friends say, ‘But me, I’m not racist and don’t all lives matter?’ The wicked precepts that have shaped our culture are invisible to most whites. And now with the Trump cult they have their hero who supports racism and sexism, or the ‘status quo.’ But the not so subtle system of cultural and economic enslavement isn’t there only for African Americans and immigrants.
Most women recall when they figured out, probably as a child, that their lives would be different than boys in so many dangerous, minimizing and challenging ways. Can you imagine—mothers have been having ‘the talk’ with their daughters for thousands of years? And mothers have looked the other way for thousands of years ‘to save lives.’ The alternative of demanding change would come with too high a price: her life. Females must be careful because they are often targets of discrimination and violence. Every woman knows she will be challenged personally with (the same primitive consciousness as racism that sees their) discrimination of women as the right of a man and in some cases this will be brutal. And don’t get me started on how our culture treats children, homeless, mentally ill and the vulnerable. So you’re going to fight for this system, the American way, that divides up the vulnerable?
The layers of discrimination begin:white supremacist, in this shit show, you have to hold on tight to you’re only advantage: being white in a racist country. Being poor, female and white is ‘better’ than being black. Huh? And if you’re a white male, you’ve got a golden ticket. If you’re a black or brown woman, well, my heart cries for the discrimination you must survive. And then we get to children…who lose all around in this system. No wonder our streets are filled with young people who’ve figured out they really don’t want this legacy.
So let’s get real. Do you think your rights are safe in this system? No one’s rights will be safe until we protect and care for everyone. But you’ll ask, how do we pay for that? Don’t ask me that when a couple of dozen people hoard more wealth than the other 330 million of us and we keep bailing big business out from their self-destructive and predatory practices, keep giving them the advantage of our tax laws while they do things that hurt our people, hurt the country. Maybe you’ll tell me the stock market shows the economy is great. Great for who? The banks, big pharma, stockbrokerages and insurance companies? Really? Economic layers of discrimination are embedded at every level to keep everyone in line. Our system even targets vulnerable populations. Our founders were slaveowners. Yup, the bible–racist and sexist and pro-slavery. And the nation’s founders–racist, sexist and wealthy through the labors of slaves. That’s the mindset of colonialism that we live in and that some of our politicians are clinging to.
When I served in the military I didn’t get all this. I was so idealistic and patriotic and I joined because I wanted to ‘walk my talk’ for democracy and the ‘’American dream.’ The richness and darkness of that experience served to awaken me to racism and sexism and corporate greed. After a decade and a half in the military it was obvious we were the blood and muscle behind so much greed, suppression and senseless violence on foreign soil, on women and children, all accepted ascollateral damage of our ‘pro-democracy policy.’ A big lie to cover the theft of natural resources and cultural treasures of non-white peoples. Trump is a symptom of our country’s worst nature, an abomination to the ideals that led me to love the country and take my oath to the Constitution: to defend it against enemies foreign and domestic. By his actions I see Trump as a threat to the Constitution. He’s certainly a threat to American military service members with his affinity to despots like Putin, Xi, Kim Jong-Il, Prince Mohammad bin Salman, Erdogan…
I pray to see our country working toward perfecting the union aspired to in the Constitution and rising above the inhumanity of its founders, many of whom, like Franklin and (sort of) Washington were troubled by slavery and its conflict with the un-Christian ideals of the Constitution. Thank goodness the founders stepped beyond their religious dogma and gave us universally righteous philosophies in the Constitution securing it as one of greatest documents ever written. My soul is crying for patriots and citizens to abolish racism, sexism, suppression, discrimination and economic enslavement of the people. I’m praying we are inspired in America to hold to our Constitution to create the change we need for a golden age.
Understand, there is a battle for our minds on social media. The Russian intelligence masters are experts at the ‘long game,’ and they are elated at the hyperspeed of their success in America using our fabulous creation of social media against us to speed their long-range goal of destabilizing our country. They are using psychological operations (psyops) to change the leadership of our country with weapons-grade propaganda. And they know who to target using Facebook data. Look it up. It’s a BIG part of foreign intelligence operations now. And greedy, unethical businesses (like Zuckerberg’s, Trump’s and Bezos’), politicians like McConnell, and greedy corporate lobbyists will piggy back on the manufactured chaos for their own benefit. It’s hard not to be a pawn, isn’t it?
My hope in writing this is to help others discern the psychological operations, a long-standing and secretive military specialty. Open-minded, suspicious, fearful, born-again Christian, spiritual, yoga fan, raw/organic foodies, non-GMOers, anti-vaxers, ET and disclosure, flat earthers, the list goes on of the interest groups and people targeted by psyop propaganda using social media ads. Q is a psyop that targets me and many of my friends. Trump is a useful asset to Russian intelligence, whether it’s purposeful or ignorant, controlled through money or sex or maybe just his admiration of despotism. Here’s a classic psyop method: flood the public with conflicting info to create confusion about the truth and repeat useful lies until they are accepted as truth. Sound familiar? That’s Trumps daily job. Say something outrageous, trot out your staff to deny or defend it, then deny again, claim it was a joke or some other smokescreen to ensure people will fight about what’s true and who to believe.
I urge you to take control of the battle for your mind. Remove the blinders to racism, sexism and the psyops trying to convince you they aren’t real. Trump is the hero of white, Christian racists who value poverty, racism and sexism to maintain the status quo and their power. They take more profits than they’d need for a hundred lifetimes and leave the rest of us without even our fair share of the fruits of our labors.
The pandemic is real. Racism is real. Sexism is real. It’s time to get real and take back your mind and our country. We are blessed to have inspiring and heroic examples of fearlessness from young women in our time. The world needs the balance of strong people, especially empowered women, to bring collaboration, compassion and care to communities and nations. Let’s see all women and children raised up and cared for as precious. Let’s see children treasured and nurtured into great people. Let’s stand up for our black American brothers and sisters, end their torture and say because Black Lives Matter in our America. Let’s stand up for our first people, end their torture and say Native Lives Matter in our America. Let’s stand up for our LGBTQ brothers and sisters and say LGBTQ Lives Matter in America. Let us be judged by the content of our character, not our appearance, sex, or preferences. Let it be.
Happy 9.9.19, Surface Dwellers! After some coaxing, because it’s tricky to channel and write, Ken’s agreed to let me be your ghost writer today, literally.
My name when I walked the earth was Robin Williams. I was just a regular Joe from Chicago who, due to an intense funny bone, made a fortune and flew in the same private jet skies as the richest a-holes wrecking the planet.
POP QUIZ: What number am I thinking about between 121212 and 121214?
If you guessed 121213 you’re ready to learn lesson 3 of how to travel faster than the speed of light. On the other hand if you didn’t guess 121213 you suck at math like me. In any case, if you haven’t done so as yet, please read part one and two first if you know what’s good for you.
All aboard the Williams Express! Let’s begin.
I, the being FKA Robin Williams, am hovering in wispy spirit form over a beautiful coral reef off the big island of Hawaii. Now, if you traveled from the sun to this reef at the speed of light it would take you 8 minutes and 17 seconds to reach me. But in reading the proceeding sentence it took you only a few seconds to make the journey in your mind’s eye.
Thought is indeed faster than the speed of light. Ken’s taught you that nugget already. But as you see my spirit floating above the Pacific surf and… Tada!… you also see that thought is more potent than the speed of light for imagineering new realities.
After my brief but beautiful afterlives these past, weird and wonderful as it gets, five years, first as a blue whale, then as a blue dolphin and last as a killer whale, I’ve finally chosen my next reincarnation. Hint it’s a part I played in my life on earth. Don’t skip ahead. That’s cheating, naughty readers.
Very cool of Ken to let me hang out in his big heart for a few weeks while I make up my spirit mind. And now to be able hang out with all of you readers here on the DreamShield blog my coolest visitation ever. The internet is a truly amazing gift for forging new conscious connections. But it’s force that’s being abused by some greedy people. Yeah, I’m looking at you Zuckerberg.
To those in the house reading the first direct blog by your ghost host with most today and wondering how I can fit comfortably into Ken’s heart space, hear my voice in your mind’s ear, imitating Albert Einstein, as I did in the movie AI “In spirit form, you zee, vee humans don’t take up too much space. Zere’s a kingdom in each heart and a lot of space on zee quantum subatomic level.”
Now hear me slip in John Wayne’s voice, “So, ya see pard, there’s plenty of room in your hearts to have spirit folk share adventures if you want them. Ya ha.”
One day earlier this week, while Ken and Elizabeth hike to a swim in the creek at Red Rock state park, I invite some of my ocean friends to swim along in Ken’s auric field. All with his permission of course.
Some sea tourists come from my 2014-2017 blue whale pod. Some come from the krill we ate, “Urp!” Pardon me. Some come from my 2017-2018 blue dolphin pod and the wide variety of fish we ate, yum. Some come from the octopi clan. Last come my 2018-2019 pod of killer whales. All we killer whales were killed when global warming coaxed us into swimming too far north and the Arctic ice closed behind us. Whales don’t make good pancakes.
So there I am a couple of days ago hiking along with Ken in the red rocks of Sedona, suspended inside an aquatic menagerie that only Ken can see. Suspended in miniature in the fresh Sedona morning air, swimming about Ken’s auric field in a 9 foot spherical radius.
Always low key about his psychic gifts because of an Irish Grandmother who warned little Ken he’d end up in the looney bin if he shared his visions, Ken speaks to my aquatic band of sea tourist telepathically.
He relays our wonder at the wonders of the surface world in real time to his love Elizabeth. She has the jitters because she’s going to marry Ken on 9.19.19 and his amplified psychic powers since the Lion’s gate are a bit unnerving.
So Ken keeps it cool reporting to Elizabeth on my turning him into a human Carnival Cruise while he happily swims in the cold fresh water creek. We sea tourist spin between the creek and the air in Ken’s energy field, telepathically shouting, “Wee!”
Most of my sea pals have never incarnated on the surface of Gaia. So their little flippers are all a flutter by of all things Sedona’s dry red dirt along the banks of the creek. Huh. I thought it would be trees my sea mates would be amazed by. But the minerals and dryness of the red dirt are like nothing their little sea eyes have ever beheld. The rich red soil sparkles in the sun like tiny diamonds and rubies. Land. Dry land.
Anyways, a funny thing happens to me in the sacred Oak Creek where the Hopi and other tribes once thrived. A nurse shark swim up to me in the next door water molecule . The dapper looking shark speaks in a thick Jersey accent, “Name’s Jerry. Nice of of you to take me and your sea clan to visit your old surface world, Robin.”
“My pleasure, Jerry. — Hey, man, sorry I ate you when I was a killer whale.” I add sheepishly.
“No sweat. Killer’s gotta kill. Hey, I should know! — Word from your arctic pod is you’re kinda stuck about what you next life should be?” says Jerry, flashing three rows of nurse shark teeth.
“Lemmie help. Tell me about your last three incarnations,” says Jerry the nurse shark earnestly.
“What are you a shark or a shrink, Jerry?”
“What’s a shrink?” asks the puzzled nurse shark.
“Long human story. Let’s just say I had a school of shrinks in my last life as Robin Fucking Williams.”
My pale reflection stares back at me on Jerry big eye. Huh. Between lives I look like I did at about age 27. Back when I played Mork on a thing called ABC. So my work as the joie de vivre energy of Robin Williams is not yet done I guess.
Either that or Ken, a gifted writer that came to the Hollywood game too late in life to strike it rich, lucky him, is simply imagining me the way his Grandma Agnes warned. What’s it really fucking matter if some of Ken’s, perhaps, fantasy of who I was in life makes you think and smile, dear reader?
Anyways, it’s super kind of Ken to put me up in his heart while I pick out my next life. I try to be as quiet a heart-guest as I can be. But, hey, I am freaking Robin Williams! Quiet was never my thing! “Nanu! Nanu!” I shout to the sea tourist guests. And they shout it back in unison, “Nanuuu!”
After some hemming and hawing I finally tell Jerry the nurse shark the harrowing and sometime hilarious adventures of my last three sea lives, which you can read for yourself here on The Robin Williams Visitations. He gives me a knowing shark eye wink and says, “Robby, never done it myself, but I hear life as a starfish is cool as it gets.”
“What’s so cool about being a starfish?” I ask casually, sounding a blue blood snob shopping for a condo in Hong Kong and and not my next incarnation.
Jerry takes me under a flipper and coaches me like the sea rookie I am, “Take it from a nurse shark brother, the starfish are a freaking yuge mass consciousness that travels the multi-universes. Starfish is a dream lifetime.”
“How’d you hear about the interstellar starfish good life?” I ask Jerry.
“Starfish are my favorite food. One starfish begged for his life told me all about it. That is it if I’d not eat him,” says Jerry punctuating his starfish story with a whip of his shark tail.
“A fair exchange then,” I say squirming out from under Jerry’s sandpaper-like flipper.
” Yeah. But hadda eat the starfish anyways. Sharks will be sharks!”
My ghostly face glows white. Jerry belly laughs at my shocked look (guess I’m still funny even as a ghost) and swims off into the sun above the dazzling Oak Creek that Ken and Elizabeth splash in with their adorable pooch Lincoln.
Cut to earlier tonight: Ken’s love Elizabeth asks him to Google how long a starfish live, But Ken forgot to check before I took over the blog for him. Wait a sec. — Cool. Just searched it and starfish live a lot longer than I thought. 35 years! See that? Both, you dear reader and I, learned something new tonight.
This morning as Ken crosses from the dream world, where he nightly works on reenforcing the protective DreamShield he helped build in 2010 in his Italy awakening to the OHOM (Open Heart Open Mind) consciousness, I say, “Bro, I’ve picked my next life.”
“What this time?” Ken says snuggling up the his babe-elicious bride to be.
“I’m gonna be a starfish!” I accidentally shout too loudly in Ken’s mind’s ears.
Ken takes my abundant energy in stride and says in his mind so as not to awaken his sleeping beauty, “Sorry see you go… again. But you’re always welcome back, Robin.”
I sense Ken’s afraid we might never hang again. I really don’t know myself. So I tell a white lie and reassure him,” Course you’ll be able to channel me in for a coffee anytime.”
“Course,” says Ken sensing my white lie. “But why a starfish? Do they even have a brain?”
“Never had a much of brain while I human. Sure. But not individually. It’s a collective brain thing,” I tell Ken realizing it for the first time myself. “Can’t pass up the chance to blanket the ocean floor in a sacred geometry mesh joined with every starfish on earth.”
I wave goodbye to Ken as I float from his auric field, where I’ve been camping out after an upgrade to Ken’s heart that left me no room. It got too cramped after Ken had a heart opening watching his beautiful Elizabeth, my Mamu blue whale momma on another plane of reality, sing this Ganesh chant.
As I float out the window and into the deep blue Sedona sky Ken does not see me wave bye or does not want to. I rocket off for the coral reef I’ve picked out, faster than the speed of light shouting “Nanu! Nanu!”
As my spirit dives into the Pacific I feel Ken’s sadness at the end of my long visit. The dude has abandonment issues he’s yet to resolve. He will overcome it one day. I see it so clearly, reborn as starfish here beneath a coral reef off the cost of the Big Island.
Let’s test out my new starfish powers. Now,, if you are lucky enough to own a Patrick Flanagan Sensor V medallion, (Sorry we never escape product placement even in the afterlife) with it’s five side pyramids coated in gold, rub your fingers over the pointy fibonacci spiral and close your eyes. It’s cool if you don’t have a Sensor V, no worries, just concentrate on your left hand’s five fingers in your minds eye. See your left hand transform into a starfish as you place your right hand over your heart.
See bright beams of energy shoot out from the ends of your starfish hand. See the grid that joins billions of we starfish into a neural network that spans all the seven seas. Feel the wisdom of a consciousness far older than humanity’s by a power of 100. Feel our anguish over the pollution humanity is dumping to the oceans of Gaia. Oceans that are like blood for we sea creatures and you idiots human too.
Starfish are powerful enough to pull in a comet from space to wipe the surface world clean of humanity’s destruction of the mother earth. But that is forbidden under galactic law. We of the Ocean-Nation’s Starfish clan have watched over humanity since lung fish chose to leave the sea behind and crawl upon the land.
Tonight we invite you, the lucky person that finds this blog, to leave your physical body to travel with we starfish of the stars to any time, dimension, star system or planet you wish.
Have your destination in mind? Okie dokey. See your soul leave your body. Oh and make sure you’ve read part one and two on traveling faster than the speed of light. You need to have a strong tether to reel yourself back in after we journey at blog’s end. We gracefully pass through the clouds, clouds which hold the memories of all life on earth’s past and future lives, in the form of a highly advance bio code held by the water.
For porpoises of this blog I am asking Ken where he’d like to go. Please comment below where our journey took you, dear readers ready to starfish travel.
Ken says, “I dare to dream of a visit the earth 50 years from now and see if our meditations in Antarctica and subsequent meditations I have done with Elizabeth and will do have helped save the earth.”
“OK, Ken. Hang tight to your Sensor V. We are traveling to the year 2069. See the vortex up ahead,” I say as Ken and I fly into the eye of a hurricane.
“There are so many hurricane’s on the earth right now because of global warming, ” worries Ken.
“Yeah. But they are handy vortexes for starfish travel,” I add.
“See, Kenster? You and Elizabeth have been done with your DreamShield Coolest Meditation Ever work on planetary healing for 7 years now. Disease is thing of the past. Age is obsolete. Poverty a distant memory. Thought traveling ETs use the sleek new silver city of Sedona as a primary earth gateway. Scientists have broken the code to use the memory of all life stored in the clouds to restore all extinct species, including the dinosaurs, back to life.”
Ken says in wonder, “Wow, Robin. It all looked so hopeless in 2019. I’d nearly given up. But 50 years from now I can see all is cool!”
“Coolest ever. Hey, wanna to see the space port under construction in the San Fernando village where the Warner Bros. lot used to be, Ken?” I say.
Ken rubs his sleepy eyes and says, “Maybe another time. Good night, my brother Robin. I am so glad for your new life as a starfish and our ever stronger connection. I look forward to reporting more of your adventures.”
And night, dear reader. Robin Williams the Starfish signing off from the coral reef in Hawaii. Oh, that role I played in life thing I mentioned top of the blog? Yep, it’s nice to be star again.
Reel in your spirit tethers. Time to get back in your body! Hope you enjoyed my guest blog. Let me know in the comments and maybe Ken will let me blog directly to you again.
Today, 8/3/19, with some update from 8/6 tossed in, I am still vibrating with the incredible Lion’s Gate energy that came through me the last three nights through the OHOM (Open Heart Open Mind) collective channel while blogging YOUR INVITE TO BREAK THE SPEED OF LIGHT – PART 2. Three nights minus the goddess I love, Elizabeth England, who is visiting family. Miss you, baby.
Now, since 2010 I’ve been channeling a number of spirits and beings — earthly, heavenly and cosmically — after my awakening in yoga hall in Italy. On this blog I re-broadcast the best wisdom from these amazing ET encounters. By far my favorite earthly spirit to channel is Robin Williams. As I write this intro his incredible spirit is sitting here in my office, patiently waiting for his coffee, a wistful smile on his famous face.
Now, about my channeling, since I cannot prove scientifically, yet anyways, that my unexpected connection to spirit is really happening, I always retain a seed of healthy doubt and invite you to do so as well as you read. Real or not, the source is unimportant. It’s the wisdom the process of channeling provides that counts. It gets me out of my head and in touch with my heart.
But to get this channeling started I first need to make a coffee for Robin. The great comedic spirit cannot, of course, drink coffee it in spirit form. Robin just loves to wrap his ghostly hands around a hot mug of java. And I am not the only living person he visits. Here’s the link on a good piece in the Huff Post I found searching “Robin loves coffee”. For the Huffpost writer, Robin’s energy came through a computer. There are other examples out there too. For me I am blessed to hear and see his ghost in the 3D. Be right back after I make a coffee for Robin and I to share.
OK. I am back with a steaming java. Robin’s in a happy mood today. “How’s the coffee, Robin?”
“Yummy in the tummy, that is if I had one anymore,” kids Robin.
“Like the chocolate almond milk I added for a change?”
“Yep. Hardly miss the sugar. Nice energy. Look, normally I love kibitzing, Ken, but can we get to why I am visiting today? ” says Robin, seeming a bit on edge. “We’re not at Coffee Pot restaurant and so I only have your energy to power this visit. We cool?”
“Coolest ever. What’s up, Robin?”
“Let’s talk addiction and how it’s destroying the planet,” says Robin. He gathers his wits, sniffing the coffee on the desk beside me. He’s here in both his new killer whale form and human form for the first time. Usually it’s one or the other.
“Please go on. I’ll keep my yap shut unless something super important occurs to ask you, Robin.”
“As there are no secrets in Hollywood, plus as I made rather light of being a junkie to the legal drug booze in my standup routines ad nauseum, I am famous, or shall I say infamous, for my drug and alcohol escapades during my salad days as a Hollywood superstar. One time I was so strung out on cocaine I did not sleep for 10 days. Never saw it coming that the fame I got conked on the head with in life by God would come back to bite me like a killer shark to a seal. Hmm. So hungry. Where a seal when you freakin’ want one? Anyhow, it was a curse when fame put drugs and booze under my big nose all too often for my feeble self-worth to resist.
Now, after a having had a LOTS, and I mean LOTS, of therapy to get and the to stay sober, way harder than getting sober, I see it all derived from my childhood trauma. Most of it centered around my dear old Pops who never loved me for who I am. Papa dearest meant well, but seemed afraid of the freakish power of my sense of humor. Always so strict you’d think he had 2X4 up his tukis. Yep, as a major corporate stiff Dad never got me or my jokes. It messed me up more than he, or I for that matter, ever knew.
Boo-hoo. Poor me. However, I am not recounting my lousy childhood that made me an adult addict for sympathy. That is not the point of our visitation today, Ken and company. — And thanks ,Kenny Bo Benny, for doing this banana bana bo bana channeling, despite your ever shrinking sense of doubt that I’m real. — No sire, killer shark. I am here to proclaim as a whale of an angel that the tragic way the refugee kids at the border are getting shit on stems directly from America’s deep seated addiction to the darkest high of all, the high of being a racist.
And all of America is racist. Don’t feel superior to the White Supremacist in El Paso that went Mexican hunting in the Wal-mart. Cue my Elmer Fudd imitation of Elmer as a White Supermicist as he breaks the 4th wall, “Hu hu hu, I’m hunting Mexcicans today. Hu hu hu.” Sorry, Elmer. Just clowning to make a point.
You know one of my biggest regrets here in the after life? Not doing enough GOOD MORNING VIETNAM kind of political films. I could have made such a difference. Sure, I’d have made less money. But maybe I would not be on killer whale detail in the Arctic if I’d used my gifts and power.
Sorry to be so f’ing serious here on the usually lighthearted DreamShield blog today. Actually I am not in a good mood, Ken. How could I be in a good mood when I see the frequencies we killer whales and the other races of whale family are broadcasting to help erase addiction on this planet are going unheard by humanity at the moment? I mean, what the fuck?”
Ken here. I am mostly here. Robin or star beings I channel are never allowed to push me aside. Good boundaries are essential. And even though I am tempted to interrupt Robin here with an apology for misreading his mood as good and asking him a clarifying question I keep my mouth shut. He’s more whale spirit than human these days and he wants to get back to the Arctic where his killer whale self has already returned.
But reading my mind anyways, Robin goes on, “I hear you, Ken. Dear people reading this cool blog, my whale self is up in the arctic swimming through open damned seas! I can see through his big eyes. Where’s the fucking ice? My entire killer whale pod is stunned at the totally open seas where they have never been here before. One young killer whale, who shall goes anonymous chimes in, ‘Good riddance to the ice. This is so great for hunting because the seals have no ice to hide in. Dinner is served!’
Pardon me a sec. I am telepathically telling my brother and sister killers whale not to eat every damn seal in sight. “If we killer whales kill all the seals in this open sea there will soon be no mama seals and no more seal pups. Overeat and we let the oil burning culture of humans who caused this open to sea to kill we the killer whale people win. A lose-lose for we the good guys of cosmic proportions. Mother earth wants the killer whales to outlive the humans, who if they do not wise the fuck up and become the stewards of the earth she evolved them to be, will go extinct by their own hoggish hands.
Ah, cool. My whale tribe is listening, eating only the smallest number of seals we need to survive. Natural greed is thankfully not an addiction we killer whales have to contend with like the human tribe I was once a conscious leader of without being conscious of it. kind like that story where a mackrel, a sea lion and dolphin go into sand bar. The sand bar tender says, ‘What’ll it be gents?’ And the sea lion suddenly eats the makrel and the dolphin and says, ‘Burp.”
So how do I get this concept of caring about this world and stopping global warming across to your dense as brick human audience? I know you love my jokes, eveyone, but this ain’t fucking funny. So pardon my text shouting but…
HELLO! THE FUCKING NORTH POLE IS MELTING.
Put that message on a red MAGA cap and suck on it.
All this global warming denial bullshit is due to human addiction to an ignorant 50s era glorified by an old orange mogul with whale-sized daddy issues. An era that never really existed. An era rife with white racism so thick you could cut it with a burning KKK lawn cross. A mind controlled era of fake good ness born of a long dead era of white conquest of the Native Americans. That’s the real cause behind Trump’s ignoring global warming. The cheeseburger loving lard ass knows global warming will kill more people of color than Nazi Germany killed Jews and Poles by a power of 100.
Accept your within you white entitlement, either overt or covert, either active or passive, lies deep sickness at the heart of every citizens’ racism. That addictive entitlement is at the root cause of all the intelligent ignorance behind the denial of global warming caused by human pollution. Stop denying and start doing something about the way you are fucking up the only planet you have. Screw Elon Musk and his mission to Mars. Gamble all your money on solving earth’s global warming.
Trump is dangerous, not because he’s the evil boogey man the liberal media makes him to be, mostly for their own ratings benefit. Witness the kiss ass NTY headline TRUMP URGES UNITY VS RACSIM. #CanceltheNYT. Rather see Trump as he really is. Not a monster. Just an old fart, a duffer who can only put in a few hours of work a day. A bad hair nightmare suffering brain farts due a traumatic childhood he never did the hard work of therapy to overcome. A messed up childhood that makes him long for a racist past where he still seeks daddy and mama resolution. This even though they’ve both been rotting in an over design grave for too long to be reached.
Gone just like I will be one day, Ken and fans. Life goes on even after life. One day maybe I’ll simply forget I was ever Robin Williams the human and maybe start eating too many seals for my new killer whale species’ own good.
Be on constant guard for mind control from the left or right. Stay centered and stay aware of race bating and politics of distraction. At the same time ignore the endless media coverage getting done on it, droning on and on and there-fucking-by encouraging new racists stars to cut loose for the short burst of fame.
Oh, or should I say OY VEY! Keep in mind that Mr. Butter Would Not Melt in His Mouth Obama was no better a president either. He drones people. Made our social media a spy tool. Dug up sacred lands for oil. All because he too was a damaged child himself. And he too was addicted to seek power for the love of the masses with the lip service of hope and change. That cool cat was was just more genteel about it than angry grandpa bumble fuck Trump.
People, you’ve got to stop playing “me versus them” politics and realize you are all in the same lifeboat with each other whilest rich assholes in the Titanic above you sipping on champagne take a whizzes on all your dumb as dirt heads!
Robin’s voice begins to fade and he shouts,”Shit. Outta spirit juice. Bye, Ken and his coolest ever readers. Thanks for the coffee. Whale kisses.”
Please support my new film called SOAP & TOOTHBRUSHES about the plight of the refugee kids. Only 2 weeks or so left on the campaign and we have a long ways to go. Or grab yourself some enlightened tech to raise your wellness for the challenging times ahead at CoolestTechEver.com. The money all ends up in the same place helping to enlighten and entertain a weary world though thought provoking content.
Remember always that racism is hate. And hate is ultimately self defeating. Good will always win over evil. Only through love for each other just as we were born of the many races, all of us sharing the same beautiful blue world, can we make it. Yes we can, can…
Sing it Pointer Sisters.
A sad PS. Today August 6th a tragedy struck Robin’s killer whale pod in the Arctic. Stay tuned to my next in the Robin Williams visitations to hear the sad but uplifting whale of a tale DEATH AT THE NORTH POLE BY HUMAN NARCISSISM.
Elizabeth and I had just gotten back from a successful screening of our new film THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS at the prestigious New Living Expo when I got the psychic hit from the spirit of Robin Williams, currently reincarnated as a killer whale, that he’d like to meet us for coffee at his favorite Sedona hangout the Coffee Pot Restaurant.
Read past Williams blog postst here to understand how the heck Robin ended up a killer of a killer whale, but why you might be asking yourself does Robin like Coffee Pot? The beloved star and comic tells me in his funny George Jessel voice, “Hmm. I guess because maybe it’s Sedona’s closest thing to the classic LA diner and that kinda coffee I was hooked on in life.” Hooked on? A whale hooked on coffee. Yep. Robin’s still funny in the afterlife.
Anyways, after being on the road for a week the last thing Elizabeth wants is to eat out, so she tells me to invite Robin to a home cooked breakfast. Now, Robin does dine in our home with us once and awhile, but this time he tells me to tell Elizabeth, “I get a better signal with the energy of the restaurant’s crowd. And, sorry hon, I like their java better than yours.” Elizabeth chuckles and starts to get dressed for Coffee Pot with Robin, even if it is GMO laden chow.
Coffee Pot does not allow pets. So we tell our little dog to watch the house and make the short 1.5 mile trek. Now, I was a bit a Coffee Pot regular before Elizabeth showed up in my life 3 years ago. It’s the cozy spot for locals and tourists alike where Robin first appeared to me a blue whale fetus in 2015. That was back when I began his segment of the blog THE ROBIN WILLIAMS VISITATIONS that cries out to be a book or screenplay if I can ever find the time. Sure enough, the Coffee Pot host recognizes me says, “You know the drill. Pick a seat,” and hands me a menu.
Elizabeth suggests one of the upper booths that gives us a view of busy place and room for a place at the table for Robin. Soon as the busboy pours the coffee we are joined by Robin in human form. Lately he’s taken to wearing a black tuxedo, white shirt with amazing pearl buttons and playful colored bow tie. Of course Robin can’t pick up the Kokopelli adorned coffee cup , but he gets dreamy look of satisfaction on his face as he wraps his hands around the mug and sniffs the aroma. Elizabeth knows just how Robin likes his coffee with cream and double sugar.
I adore Elizabeth for validating my channeling the great comedian right from the get go of our relationship, as she does with many of the being I channel. Folks, if you’ve had an awakening there’s nothing like being in love with someone else who also has had a wild awakening.
Elizabeth’s awakening story is cool one I will share here soon. While both of us are remarkably alike in how we interact with the cosmic forces, she’s more of channeler of yogic powers and I am more of a self-taught rebel that does not like to follow any single tradition. Maybe my rebellious comedic steak is why Robin has picked me to chronicle some of his sea life adventures.
Elizabeth’s cool question to Robin at Coffee Pot is: What parts of the earth correspond spiritually to the the human body? I realize I’d be writing a long time if I tried to encapsulate Robin’s answers, so I’ve made the video to express the beauty and wisdom of Robin the killer whale. BTW Robin’s told me he likes being called Robin Whaliams these reincarnated days. Enjoy!
During my stay at Malibu’s Great Spirits Ranch, hosting events and running social media for the bulk of 2012, I was blessed to meet many amazing stars of the LA spirit community. One of those LA stars is now my partner in love, biz and life, Elizabeth England. We’ve been living in bliss together now for three years, nestled in a lovely home in Sedona.
As we work round the clock to get the word out about an amazing line of EMF protection devices that literally save lives on our new CoolestTechEver.com e-commerce site, it can be easy to actually forget that magical time. A time when all of us in the yoga and meditation community across the planet were looking forward to the end of the Mayan calendar with hope for a new era in human awareness.
In that heady time, there was lovely woman named Annelise (Annalisa) Balfour who visited the Malibu ranch a few times for GSR events. Her mega-watt smile and contagious positive attitude made her a stand-out from the crowds who visited the 14 acres ranch, perched high above the city of Malibu in the Santa Monica mountains. Annelise was curious about my ET spirit guide Ohom and we had great conversation about the mission of the DreamShield to assist in gently elevating human consciousness through meditation.
Yesterday, amidst all the hype on FB surrounding the mid-term elections, which gratefully succeeded in the Dems taking the house to put some check on 45, I was shocked to learn that sweet Annelise had passed away from breast cancer. It instantly put all the nonsense surrounding Trump and our crazy-making politics into perspective.
Monday, at Ross Pittman’s of ConsciousLifeNews.com’s weekly power of eight meditation event, I asked the group to help Annelise on her journey. Everyone eagerly agreed. As soon as we all closed our eyes and dropped into our heart space I connected to my dear spirit guide Robin Williams; now enjoying an oceanic afterlife as a killer whale, after short reincarnations as a blue whale and a blue dolphin. Robin, who calls himself Nanu these days, volunteered to help in the group meditation.
Robin found Annelise’s spirit wandering the beach in Malibu. When she spotted Robin they connected telepathically and he playfully invited Annelise to swim out and climb aboard his back and hang onto his dorsal fin. Annelise happily accepted Robin’s invitation and soon they were off!
Annelise gleefully clung to Robin the killer whale like a mermaid born for this. Robin dove deep and soared up, flying from from wave to wave. Annelise laughed with carefree joy as the duo glided on the wind and waves.
Now Robin dove deep. Deeper and deeper, down to the bottom of the ocean he raced. At first Annelise worried about air but then chuckled she no longer had the need for mortal breathing. She gasped as up ahead a small portal of golden light opened, a glittering beacon on the dark ocean floor.
Robin told Annelise, “Sorry. Too small for me. This is as far as I can take you, babe. Enjoy your journey to the center for the earth!”
I watched the vision from the Sedona meditation circle with a giddy smile as Annelise’s spirit accepted Nanu’s whale of an invite and dove into the golden portal. Her spirit easily glided though the layers of the earth, gaining in power. Soon she arrived at the planetary core. But instead of hot magma she was amazed the earth’s core swirled in molten gold.
A large golden lever that stuck out from a golden column beckoned to Annelise. Free of mortal hesitation, she pulled the golden lever sharply down. To her joy a wave of golden energy sailed from the earth’s core rocketing out to the surface and kept right on going throughout the solar system and the whole universe.
The vision ended and I shared the story with our Sedona meditation group. Others shared visions too of her powerful presence. And I felt immense gratitude for the abundant health of my love Elizabeth and the mutual support we give each other as we continue to grow and develop as leaders of the conscious community.
Today, America awoke to a renewed Congress, blessed with 100 women of many races and creeds who, to record turnouts, were elected yesterday. Thanks for helping make that happen, Annelise and my coolest ever mediation Sedona pals! Safe journeys on whatever you are up to next on the other side, Annalisa. I have a feeling your part of your work will be helping heal the idiotic divides between the people.
Oh, and I’ll pass your thanks onto spirit guide and killer whale Nanu, AKA Robin Williams.
Since my return from Antartica in 2012, where I filmed 24 quantum intentional meditations to accelerate the shift, I am often asked what I like most about Antarctica. I always say, “Besides the penguins, the fact there’s no EMF radiation.”
Indeed. the purity of the energy field and its powerful magnetics make Antarctica ideal for intentional meditation. Up until now you’d have to travel all the way south to get the same feeling of freedom from EMF. Now, via Tesla scalar waves produced in fibonacci sequences by using a Blushield device you can feel Antarctica’s purity without ever leaving home!
In classic law of attraction form, this amazing new product like came to CME effortlessly.
The ball got rolling when we upgraded our Wifi to 5G. Though we loved the faster speeds we felt wonky bathed in so much EMF. Elizabeth did some research to look for the best EMF protectors. She found then story in Nexus Magazine about an incredible line of EMF protection devices originating out of New Zealand. We got the Teslsa Plug-in, thinking if we liked it we’ve step up to the larger Tesla Gold Series Cube.
We immediately noticed improvements in mood and energy using the Blushield plugin. We weren’t needing as much coffee to face the long hours we put in on the computer everyday. And we sailed through some serious bumps in the road of life more easily.
A few days later we got an email from the BluSheild-USA distributor, Brandon Amalani, who it turns out was fan and supporter of our work where we bring cool tools to the market from greats of spirit science like Patrick Flanagan, Jonathan Goldman, Liz Aplert and James Wanless. Brandon blessed us with the entire line of Blushield for us to study as possible addition to our Cool Tools Page.
Once we added the portable improvement our baseline health accelerated. I experienced greater detox than Elizabeth. My sinuses, I’ve had trouble with since childhood cleared to the point where an old root canal abscessed tooth that had been infecting my sinuses begged the dentist for removal.
Best of all we notice the use of Blushield clears away the mental cobwebs of EMF and we are preforming better meditations.
Well, with results like we’ve both had personally, combined with the great results in research in blood testing and farm testing, it was not a hard to decided to add Blushield to our CoolTools page. And the line is so comprehensive we are building a new website called CoolestTechEver.com. Hard to believe that great URL was out there for us. Good sign.
Here’s a new 17 second promo spot we’ve created to express the wonderful way Blushield’s fibonacci patterned scalar frequencies entrain your body to tune out EMF’s harmful effect.
FROM OUR HOME PAGE
Let’s face it, WiFi and cell phone signals are inescapable in our modern environment. Awake and sleeping, we’re immersed in these invisible waves. Unfortunately much as humanity loves the convenience of wireless electronics, their relentless frequency waves cause disruption to our body’s electromagnetic field at the cellular level. And this continuous cellular stress response has proven to have cumulative negative long term health effects.
Greater mental clarity for meditation, school, work.
Able to spend more time in front of a computer.
Less tired, zapped eyes.
Better Quality Sleep
All these cool benefits will help you create the coolest meditation ever while improving your baseline health. As opposed to passive EMF protection, like stickers and orgonite, Blushield utilizes active EMF protection technology by creating powerful coherent scalar waves to mitigate EMF (electromagnetic fields) at a cellular level. Blushield overrides all ambient EMF fields, including wireless radiation, mimicking nature and relaxing our body’s stress response caused by EMF.
I had one of the coolest dreams of my life last night. A true mission from spirit from a happier post war America not to lose hope during these turbulent times.
It’s 1948 and I’m backstage at a New York theater. Stage hands and great actors of the past busily rush past me. I see, Bob Hope, Shirley Temple, James Cagney, Liz Taylor, Bogart and Frank Sinatra.
Frank smiles at me and says, “You’re on, Ken. Knock ’em dead.”
Enjoy some Sinatra on new tab to score this once in a lifetime inspirational dream that;s really meant for us all.
This all seems strange, in the way dreams always do while still perfectly natural at the same time. I adjust my suit, a weird combination of tux top and my old green flannel pajama bottoms. But I have a problem.
“Frank,” I ask nervously, “I gotta find the can. Mind going on for me? You know, hold ’em over while fund the john? Hate to pee myself onstage!”
“For you, kid? Anything!” Frank says with chuckle as he dives through through curtains to thunderous applause.
I timidly ask Bob Hope as he passes by, “Sorry, Bob. Where’s the can?
“Did a spotlight can fall on your head? Cross your damn legs on get onstage!” Bob says pushing me through the curtains.
The crowd gathered below the stage that’s a balcony on 30 Rock that overlooks Time Square (Hey, it’s a dream!), erupts in applause and laughter as I appear from the curtains in tumble that I raise to my feet. Frank, master of the mic, spins toward me and says with his million watt grin, “Better late than never, ladies and gents, I give Ken Sheetz!”
I do a funny curtsey bow the crowd appreciates and take the mic from Frank as he pats me on the back and says pointing at my hilarious getup, “Half dressed after just climbing out of bed, Kenny?’
I explain, “Like my outfit, Frank? The tux my love Elizabeth made for me is hand sewn. The green plaid pajama bottoms are from our Christmas film, where people give cash to the poor instead of junk we all don’t need!”
A standing ovation interrupts me from the good-looking happy crowd, dressed in classy winter garments, including an abundance of mink coats. I turn to Frank with shrug. “You’re slaying ’em. Go on, kid!”
“Apologies for being late. Had to grab a pee before coming out here to you good people!” The crowd goes wild with laughter. I find myself wondering out loud, “Why the heck do people always love a good pee joke?” When I spot Bob Hope in the wings, doing a face plant.
I point to Hope and joke, “Bob, I swear to God, if I pee myself in front of this fine crowd and 30 million people on TV it’s all your fault!” Putty in my comedic hands the crowd belly laughs uproariously.
Bob strides from the wings, Oscar in hand, comically looking jealous as he hands it to me, “The bridesmaid again! They Academy fails once again to give Best Actor to yours truly! But I gotta hand it to you, Sheetz. Great job!”
Franks’s trying to say something, but the laughter and applause of the crowd is so loud that I can’t hear him. So I step for him and lean the mic to hear Frank say in that amazing voice of his…
“Ken’s flick changed a commercially bastardized holiday back to something Jesus would love on his birthday. Kenny deserves way more than an Oscar, he deserves a freaking Nobel!”
Frank kisses me on both cheeks as Hope chimes in, “Huh, kinda like a Noel Nobel, Frank?” Frank nods as he applauds me. The crowd joins in with yet another wild standing ovation just as the “time to get off the Oscar stage music” starts to play softly.
I realize I better get to the “thank yous” pronto, “I want thank all the new friends I made making this film a hit.” I oddly can’t seem to remember the title of the film I suddenly realize to my horror but press on, “I want thank my old friends director Frank Capra, my co-stars Danny Kaye and Jimmy Cagney who gave this film it’s heart and soul.” I gesture to the crowd to see Elizabeth my love blowing me kisses, “Where we would be in life without friends?”
So many loves of my life in the cool crowd I see are waving at me. I go teary eyed spotting relatives who have passed away. “Most of all I want to thank my buddy Frank Sinatra for believing in me and my work. Peace everyone. Merry Christmas and Happy ’49!”
The echo of the joyous crowd still in my ears, I awake in bed and say to Lincoln our rescue dog, tucked away in his bed in our closet, “Wow. What a great dream, little Lincoln!” Lincoln shoots me a puzzled look and goes back to sleep since it’s only sunrise.
I check my cell phone for one of early morning messages Elizabeth‘s been leaving me each day from the Bahama’s, where she’s about 1/3 through a 5 week kirtan/yoga intensive. But. alas, no message. It takes some of the joy out of the dream as she had a freak head injury just 5 days before she left that’s made the whole thing dicey. But I shake it off the nervousness, still feeling she’s well in the field.
Update, I was right. Elizabeth simply overslept and is off to yoga. Time for a cup of java and Saturday yoga myself with Sedona’s amazing Naomi C. Rose!
I just read Michael Wolff’s FIRE AND FURY tell-all. I give it 4 stars. For me, the biggest moral shocker is Wolff’s claim the president of our country takes pride in seducing other men’s wives.
But just I was finishing the book along came the Stormy Daniels scandal!
Something of a personal and professional confession, I met Stormy Daniels myself in 2006, four years before my 2010 awakening. After three years in Hollywood and not yet producing a hit for my investors, I was desperate to win the good graces of my Chicago backers when along came a top ten ranked line-producer in Hollywood. He had the unlikely idea of making a PG-rated reality show for a mainstream TV audience about the behind the scenes world of Wicked Pictures featuring Stormy’s efforts to become a legit director and invited me to be his producer partner. The chance to work with one of Hollywood’s top producers, a recognized genius, was too tempting so I got on board as a producer and began talks with Wicked Pictures.
Weeks later, I reported to my executive producer that it was clear from my preliminary talks with Stormy and the CEO of Wicked Pictures that these renegade porn pros would never accept the waivers and censoring required to make a clean show out of a dirty business. And, well, I was more than relieved when my report nipped the show I felt dubious about in the bud.
So it felt mighty strange for me to have Stormy be my sixth degree of separation connection to Trump. When I interviewed Stormy in 2006, a strong, sexy and charismatic business woman, I was thankful for the angels watching over me that kept the nature of my connection professional. Whereas, Trump supposedly had sexual relations with Stormy that she described in salacious detail in an IN TOUCH article, effectively making the Trump presidency NC-17 rated.
A fitting end to a tumultuous year one for a man in far over his head morally and intellectually as our shameless president. One has to wonder: How far can the Christian right bend before breaking away from Trump or breaking itself?
To think only one year ago I was in DC with my love and partner Elizabeth England for the inauguration, fearing the worst but hoping for the best for Trump’s presidency. Unfortunately, the worst has happened. Now we set the intention in our meditations for all the darkness coming forth to be converted to light to usher in a golden era of ethics and good conscience in American politics. And the sooner the better.
Already the #1 best-seller on Amazon before its original January 9th 2018 release, FIRE AND FURY, by Michael Wolff, is perhaps destined to be a historic book marking the beginning of the end for the Trump presidency.
The book released January 5th, four days ahead of schedule after Trump sought to block its release yesterday. It sold out in less than 20 minutes after midnight at a DC bookstore where a line of eager politicos waited in the cold to be the first to own FIRE AND FURY.
Why am I so sure Trump is effectively finished as president? Two reasons.
One: Because Wolff had the full access of a Tom Yates level, an author character where art imitates life in HOUSE OF CARDS, to the reality show known as the Trump White House. What’s particularly damning is that the Trump administration players’ quotes that Wolff patiently gathered from Election Night through 2017, most notably profane gems from Steve Bannon, were captured on hundreds of hours of tape.
Two: I admit I am biased and I simply want this nightmare to be over. So I couldbe all wet on this. I was furious election day. I have disliked Trump dating back all the way to the 80s when I was something of a real estate mogul myself, building Oprah’s Harpo and a $162 million skyscraper.
The deepest Bannon barb from the book describes the Trump Tower dumb as dirt meeting between the president’s less than brilliant son Don Jr. and a group of Russians during the 2016 election campaign as “treasonous” and “unpatriotic.” Trump’s reaction to Bannon’s quotes in the book might have looked like this art.
My opinion as a filmmaker that’s covered politics on film for over 20 years is that this tell-all of all tell-all books — compounded with the ever-widening Mueller Russia investigation — makes Trump a dead-as-a-cheeseburger-walking-president.
The history making book also recounts how Ivanka and Jared got drawn into all this by their aspiration for her to be America’s first woman president one day. She’s even quoted making fun of her father’s disaster-waiting-to-happen comb over.
I do want add to my post here after finishing the book that it ends rather weakly. It’s almost two books and the ending reveals Wolff had more access to the toady Bannon than Trump. So what we have is dynamite first half a book, when Bannon was riding high, and Wolff had more access, followed by weaker second half where we see no deeper into Trump than a day looking at the news could give you.
LOOKING DEEPER THAN THE BOOK
“So what does all the Trump insanity and decadence mean on a spirit plane?” I ask my ET spirit guide Ohom. But it’s earthly spirit guide Robin Williams I first tune in on from the Pacific where he is a reincarnated female blue whale, “Told you Trump’s presidency would be hilarious, Kenster!”
Ohom sighs deeply, answering my call for clarity, “Robin is right. Keep a sense of humor about it all, Ken. Trump is symptom of deeper problems in your culture as a whole that his leaving office will not solve.”
I telepathically answer Ohom, “Hard to swallow that when Trump is trying to provoke a war with North Korea to distract the people.”
“Trump has fulfilled his purpose to expose the dumbing down of your country, rampant racism, sexism, a corrupt congress, corporatocracy and more. His work is done even if he still uses your insane legal system to tie up his dismissal until the end of 2020. Meanwhile, fulfill your mission. Keep sending him and he supporters love as you did at his inauguration,” says Ohom, echoing in my mind with that cool reverb effect his inter-dimensional communication creates.
“I’ve been wondering why you sent us to Trump’s swearing in, Ohom, ” I say over the web here and in my mind with no small amount of annoyance, realizing this has been blocking my connection to Ohom of late.
“Same as I always tell you, Ken. When you ask me over and over again. Hold a space of unconditional love in the midst of the field hate and rage. That’s mastery,” says Ohom sounding a bit more testy than I’ve ever heard him.
“Wait. Hate and rage equals ‘Fire and Fury.'” It’s all starting to fit. Sorry to be so dense. Ok, Ohom my new old/friend. I’ll promise to keep holding a space of love that will help bring a peaceful end to Trump’s hopefully short presidency. Um, even though that’s hard as hell at times.”
My past life Hopi self, Laughing Skies, adds with a chuckle, “Hard? Why hard, Ken? Trump is simply a symbol of the dying energy of the old ways that destroyed my people,” sounding quite amused at my difficulty mastering the chaos of the Trump shift.
“You won’t be laughing if a desperate Trump starts a war with Kim Jung Un,” I grump inwardly.
“Ha! Trump and Un are already as dead and one corpse cannot kill another,” says the Hopi shaman I once was.
I decide I am not going to win this debate over Trump and all he represents, so I fully my consciousness return to this sunny January 4th 2018 at my trusty Mac.
Well, dear reader, I don’t take comfort that Zombie stories did not exist in Laughing Skies’ time 1000 years ago here in Sedona where many, besides me, thankfully meditate for peace in these troubled times. But here’s to hoping my guides, cosmic and earthly, are right.