Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution, Part XIV

She almost made it safely back from her long flight from Georgetown University where Gen Slats Grobnik, the leader of the Second American Revolution was gathering important trinkets to break the Jesuit curse on the world.

By Greg Anthony

Molly the pigeon opened her little eyes and uttered these very important words before falling back into a coma.

“Slats in shackles. Jesuits put him in chains!” whispered our sweet, trusty carrier pigeon.

As her eyes closed, I could not help but think how her tiny little wings were the only way left to transport highly top secret information in this police state called the Chinese United States of America (CUSA).

Eyes roll every time Molly speaks. But everybody knows pigeons talk in Kansas so what’s the big deal.

Get over it. Molly speaks. The pandemic is fake. And Jesuits worship Lucifer.

Those crafty, diabolical Jesuits. They got him. I knew it.

I knew it would come to this, saying to myself over and over again as I tucked Molly in under the sheets, hoping one day she would fly again.

She had been in a coma for over a week, ever since slamming into the wall of the replica Colosseum where I have been holed up going on a month, waiting for Slats.

She almost made it safely back from her long flight from Georgetown University where Gen. Slats Grobnik, the leader of the Second American Revolution, was gathering important trinkets to break the Jesuit curse on the world.

The curse now causing staged race riots, fake virus pandemics, isolation, lock downs, masks, financial chaos, business shutdowns and basically a whole lot of unnecessary shit!

This boiled down to one hell of a whopper of a Jesuit curse and now it had Americans like I already said looking like masked zombies, walking the streets with nowhere to go in some kind of worldwide lock down.

Things sure have changed, changed fast. That was the curious thing about this curse. It was how quickly, how fast the world fell under the Jesuit spell.

And now my plans to meet Slats in Rome changed fast too. I was to meet Slats in Rome to gather more trinkets to break the curse but now what? What now?

Molly was down for the count. Slats was in the gulag somewhere and I needed a drink.

What was I going to do? I needed to think and think fast.

It was late, almost midnight my mind was shot, wandering like someone jumping from town to town and on the run from someone or something.

My plan would have to wait till the morning.

So I cracked open an Old Style, stretching out on the sofa and thinking back to when Slats was first talking about building this Colosseum in a Kansas cornfield.

What a story! I needed to write it down.  I needed the world to know when Slats first told me about the Coliseum. People needed to know the history behind it before they shut down the internet. Yes, they were going to shut it down any minute, any second. So I wrote the following before falling into a deep sleep.

Slats Grobnik Is Back Updating His Progress on Building His Roman Colosseum In A Kansas Corn Field

Calling it his ‘Field of Dreams’, Slats can’t wait until he drags New World Order leaders into the Colosseum as gladiators. Here is the story about how a simple farmer is making Slats’ dream come true.

The one and only true patriot, Slats Grobnik, finished a glass of his favorite white wine while clicking the tube off after his beloved Chicago Bears Sunday earned a birth in the NFC Championship game next week against the New Orleans Saints.

“This New World Order crap gets on my nerves sometimes. No one has been fighting Vatican corruption and insane Satanists embedded in our highest religious and political offices more than me, but sometimes its nice to act like things are normal, drink a good glass of wine and watch my Bears win a playoff game for a change,” said Slats, taking last Sunday off from his arduous task of rebuilding the Roman Coliseum in his a Kansas cornfield, calling it his own Field of Dreams.

“I’ll get to the latest on the Coliseum and, by the way, you are the only news publication covering this historic event. I hope I can finish it before the world blows up. But did you know they put Bush on 60 Minutes after the football game. What a bunch of BS and Americans are still buying it. Wait till he is in my Coliseum fighting for his life as one of the New World Order gladiators putting on a show for the American people! Just wait.

“You know, I used to drink good wine, good white. But now I can’t afford it anymore and have to pretend this white wine out of a box, you know the boxes of five liters for $12 bucks, tastes good. I guess it will do. I guess it will have to do.

“I just wanted everybody to know that I am almost finished with the replica Coliseum and it should be ready soon for business, the business of putting the New World Order members in the Vatican and others around the world in the ring as gladiators while the common men fill the seats, watching them fight for their lives. Maybe we will throw a few bears or lions in the ring to eat the bones clean, but I personally can’t wait to see Bush and Cheney fight it out and Condi and Hillary matched up for a fight to the death!”

For people unaware of the legend of Slats, a man famous in the Old Town district of Chicago and especially in Sam’s Tavern for his outspoken oratory and freedom-fighting message, he has been targeted by the fascists running this country, having spent a considerable period of time in a Denver Gulag.

After being drugged and abducted by undercover agents from Sam’s Tavern for calling Bush a “Satan worshiping freak of nature,” Slats was hauled off to the Denver Gulag, which to the best of his recollection was located in an underground hole beneath the Denver International Airport.

“I was lucky to get out with my life,” recalled Slats, saying he was probably used as a “test monkey” for the upcoming detention of millions of Americans when “the you know what hits the fan in the next couple of years.”

Upon his release, he retreated to his comfortable Chicago home, but then embarked on a Don Quixote type adventure to enlighten Americans about the coming of the New World Order and the eventual destruction of a free America.

An experienced horseman, Slats left in his old Winnebago motor home but was fully prepared to finish the journey on a proud steed if by chance his money ran out due to the high cost of fuel.

His story is most unusual in a place like America, a place where much of the population have become complacent coach potatoes content to wait out the upcoming New World upheaval behind a bag of potato chips and a can of beer.

But despite rampant apathy, five months after he left his Chicago bungalow Slats is still determined to wake up the tired masses even though his latest stop in the Kansas cornfield came as a completely unexpected surprise.

“I was going to set up a loud speaker on my motor home when I stopped in this small Kansas town,” recalled Slats. “I was going to speak out about 9/11, the phony war on terror And much, much more.

“That evening I went into one of those country diners for a bite to eat. When I asked for a glass of wine, the waitress looked at me like I was from a different planet. I settled on a beer and asked if she believed we were under attack by Bin Laden and the Muslims.”

“You’re damn straight we are, sir,” said the waitress, who looked like if I disagreed, she would have dumped a hot pot of coffee on my head.

“What makes you so sure,” asked Slats.

“I’m sure just because I’m sure.”

“I’ll have two eggs over easy. You serve breakfast all night?”

“Yes we do, sir. I’m sure we do.”

As the waitress walked away, Slats thought how he was living in another world, thinking how in the world would it ever be possible to discuss anything semi-intelligent with people so brainwashed like the waitress.

So, instead of getting in a huge argument, he decided to eat his eggs in peace, thinking: “Maybe I’ll just go home and watch football. This journey is going to be impossible.”

But just before Slats slipped into a complete depression, leading to a heavy night behind the bottle, an old farmer sat next tom him at the counter, saying: “I heard what you said about the phony war on terror and Bin Laden and I believe you are right,” said the farmer.

“You do?” said Slats as his spirits were suddenly lifted.

“Yes, I do. And I also believe the Vatican is behind the whole thing and all of our officials are fronting for the Rome and leading our country to hell.”

“I agree.”

“So what are you going to do about besides talking?”

Slats thought long and hard about the farmer said and before he could open up his big Chicago mouth, the farmer said: “Finish your beer and then take a drive with me and I will tell you what you need to do.”

“You’re not an agent, are you?” said Slats who was still a little gun shy from his last experience with the Bush thugs at Sam’s Tavern.

“No. Why, do I look like one?”

“Ah, I guess not. But what do they look like. Maybe you are undercover.”

The farmer laughed, looking Slats straight in the eye.

“You’ll know an agent, son, when you see one. Just look into his evil eyes and ask to shake his hand. If his hand is hot as a devil’s oven and his eyes cold as ice, you know you rant into to one of them.”

So Slats hopped into the farmer’s truck and they headed out to his 450 acre dairy farm. As they drove, the farmer began quoting scholars and outlining the New World Order plan of America as if he had inside information.

“How do you know so much? asked Slats.

“I was a Jesuit priest and left the order after learning the hierarchy and the Jesuit General, Fr. Pete Hans Kolvenbach, are evil devil worshipers. It all slides downhill from Rome, but Americans have been brainwashed. Most of the media won’t talk about the story because they are bought and paid off. And, well, the politicians are a lost cause, all sell-outs and traitors.”

“So, how can we defeat them?”

“We can’t. They will defeat themselves. But I guess in the meantime we can lead them to their demise with a little bit of luck, a little American ingenuity and a few good people.”

“How do we do that?”

“They will eventually self-destruct because their lies are catching up to them .We are talking about hundreds of years of lies finally coming to an end.

“When?”

“As soon as you don’t follow them anymore and revolt.”

“Like the last American Revolution?” “Not really. That was based on lies, too. This will be the revolution of the good hearts and minds fighting the evil ones. The battle lines will be clearly drawn and then it is up to good men to get off of their butts and fight back. But, in the meantime, what is your name, by the way?”

“Slats.”

“That’s a funny name. Where did you get it?”

“It’s a Chicago name. Got it in the streets.”

“Well, Slats, in the meantime, there is something we can do to fight the New World Order.”

“What?”

“You and me can build the Roman Coliseum, an exact replica, and then when the time is right we can bring Bush and the rest of the Vatican boys to fight as gladiators in front of the American people. It would be justice served and it sure would draw a crowd.”

So that was how Slats got started on his Coliseum project, his Field of Dreams, being built in a Kansas cornfield.

“I am about half finished now and it is taking good shape thanks to the farmer and his bulldozing equipment, his Coliseum building specs and his never-ending will and determination to fight and defeat the Vatican-led New World Order,” said Slats, who promised to finish the project and continually check-in with readers on progress being made.

Editor’s Note: Catch Part XV of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as  Greg has to change plans and somehow rescue Slats from a Jesuit gulag. Greg was originally going to be off to meet Slats in Rome to gather more trinkets to break the Jesuit curse, but that would have to wait. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournal.wordpress.com

The replica Colosseum is a super-structure built on the direction of master builder Slats Grobnik over the last two decades. His intention was to entertain the masses as the Vatican/Jesuit NWO cabal would be in the ring fighting as gladiators to get a taste of their own medicine.

Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution, Part XIII

The Jesuits are sorcerers, anybody that knows anything about anything knows that. They know how to turn black into white, turn minds into mush, change good people into mongrels, democracies into cesspools of fascist hate.

By Greg Anthony

This dreaded Jesuit curse on America needs to be broken, needs to be broken now.

I kept repeating that over and over again until my head started spinning, giving up all hope there was any chance for sanity in this new Jesuit Covert 19 world..

What was I thinking, stupid, stupid, stupid?

That someone, even someone as adept in the Jesuit occult practices as Gen. Slats Grobnik, had a chance in hell of doing something the smartest minds in the world for the past 500 years couldn’t do.

The Jesuits are sorcerers, anybody that knows anything about anything knows that. They know how to turn black into white, turn minds into mush, change good people into mongrels, democracies into cesspools of fascist hate.

 

And this time they whipped up a whopper of a secret concoction, spreading it from sea to shining sea, leaving most every man, women and child blind, deaf and dumb to their secret plan to destroy America.

How in the name of God’s green flat earth could they do it?

This was one of a million questions haunting me as I waited ever so patiently, despite knocking down a whole bunch of Old Style beers every day for the last two weeks, waiting for Molly the pigeon to return from her long flight from Georgetown University back to this replica Roman Colosseum in a Kansas cornfield.

I have been holed up here at the Colosseum headquarters of the Second American Revolution for what seemed like a lifetime, waiting for Molly’s return and word from Slats about what he confiscated from Georgetown.

All I knew was Molly was two weeks late in returning with some vital curse-breaking trinkets as well as handing me my orders to meet Slats in Rome, our second stop in our attempt to break the evil Jesuit curse.

Since I was abducted four months ago for joining with Slats, America has gone to hell in a hand basket. The curse is strong, the Covid 19 occult spell has spread across the land like a wildfire, leaving a wasteland of masked zombies locked in their homes or walking aimlessly on empty streets with no place to go.

The whole Covid thing has been a nightmare; everybody in the world knows it but just shows the real power of the rulers of evil. With one flick of their occult magic wand, they shut down the world.

How nice, how sweet.

But the curse and the joke is on you, the complacent American people who willingly will walk to the vaccination slaughter house for something that really does not exist and as simple as a common cold!

No work. No money. Business shut downs. No baseball. No bars and restaurants. Suicides up. Criminals crawling the streets, rioting, looting just because they can in the name of many cockamamie reasons like systemic racism, MAGA, Black Lives Matter, Antifa to name a few.

None of them are real, all these revolutions orchestrated, controlled by the very rulers of world evil who created the phony Covid pandemic that created the problem in the first place.

If you fall for it, join in, the Jesuits got you by the nuts!

So the only thing to do, the only rational decision is to break their curse and join the only revolution not under the Jesuit spell which just happens to be Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution.

Break the curse, I shouted like a madman locked away for decades in a dungeon filled with rats even though I was quite comfortable in my beautiful suite here at the Colosseum.

I had been researching Jesuit sorcery for years and for those with doubts here is a portion of a book I was reading about Jesuit trickery in order to lay some credence to Slats’ Second American Revolution simply based on breaking curses, not rioting, war or rebellion in the normal sense.

As I read, knowing our trusty carrier pigeon, Molly, is not far away, these words were taken from  H. P. Blavatsky Theosophical Articles, Vol. III and a manuscript called ISIS Unveiled:

It is curious to observe how persistently the [Jesuit] Order has assailed everything like Occultism from the earliest times, and Theosophy since the foundation of its last Society, which is ours. The Moors and the Jews of Spain felt the weight of the oppressive hand of Obscurantism no less than did the Kabalists and Alchemists of the Middle Ages. One would think Esoteric philosophy and especially the Occult Arts, or Magic, were an abomination to these good holy fathers? And so indeed they would have the world believe. But when one studies history and the works of their own authors published with the imprimatur of the Order, what does one find? That the Jesuits have practiced not only Occultism, but BLACK MAGIC in its worst form, Mesmerism or HYPNOTISM is a prominent factor in Occultism. It is magic. The Jesuits were acquainted with and practiced it ages before Mesmer and Charcot.]more than any other body of men; and that to it they owe in large measure their power and influence!

To refresh the memory of our readers and all those whom it may concern, a short summary of the doings and actings of our good friends may be once more attempted. For those who are inclined to laugh, and deny the subterranean and truly infernal means used by “Ignatius’ black militia,” we may state facts.

In “Isis Unveiled” it was said of this holy Fraternity that–

“though established only in 1535 to 1540–in 1555 there was already a general outcry raised against them.” And now once more–

“That crafty, learned, conscienceless, terrible soul of Jesuitism, within the body of Romanism, is slowly but surely possessing itself of the whole prestige and spiritual power that clings to it. . . . Throughout antiquity, where, in what land, can we find anything like this Order or anything even approaching it? . . . The cry of an outraged public morality was raised against it from its very birth. Barely fifteen years had elapsed after the bull approving its constitution was promulgated, when its pmembers began to be driven away from one place to the other. Portugal and the Low Countries got rid of them, in 1578; France in 1594; Venice in 1606; Naples in 1622. From St. Petersburg they were expelled in 1815, and from all Russia in 1820.”

 

As can be seen, our crafty Jesuit evil doers have been casting occult spells for centuries with intentions of world domination through treachery and deception.

Now they use high tech, media, their minions and sorcerers in the White House, the medical community, and others embedded in every important function of society to do their dirty work.

But never fear, Grobnik is here and the curse will be broken. That is a promise.

Freedom is on the horizon and, by God as I look out the window, so is Molly!

Molly is flying back not far away.

And on her little wings she carries the heavy burden, the hopes and dreams of all humanity.

She is bringing with her the way, the light and the first of many trinkets needed to break the dreaded evil Jesuit curse.

But wait!

She looks unsteady, wobbling in the air and nose diving like a little jet out of control. I can see blood dripping from her beak and her tiny claws. Or are they feet?

Come on Molly, come on girl you can do it!

Don’t give up, I yelled, trying to desperately guide her to safety from the window with my hands waving.

It is gonna be close but by the grace of whatever God is listening, I know she can make it.

I just know she can make it!

Editor’s Note: Catch Part XIV of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Molly the pigeon in distress is desperately trying to return to Greg with some necessary items from Georgetown U to break the Jesuit curse on America. If Molly can make it with further directions, Greg will then be off to meet Slats in Rome, leaving from his location at the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within, an enemy bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournal.wordpress.com

The replica Colosseum is a super-structure built on the direction of master builder Slats Grobnik over the last two decades. His intention was to entertain the masses as the Vatican/Jesuit NWO cabal would be in the ring fighting as gladiators to get a taste of their own medicine.

 

Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution, Part XII

Despite this call to arms of Give Me Baseball or Give Me Death of this quite curse-breaking revolution, the Rulers of Evil will have millions upon millions of passengers who will climb aboard their satanic train ride to hell willingly. Americans without objection will go to the vaccination slaughter house like the obedient workers they are.

By Greg Anthony

The satanists have moved in for the kill and there is no denying it.

This Covert 1984 Plandemic is fraught with Luciferian/Satanic references and HR 6666 is a good place to start.

The Rulers of Evil are not hiding their affiliation. It is out in broad daylight for all to see. But for a people too blind and locked in an occult spell, it matters little. There is no resistance, no protest, no nothing. The evil doers know this so it is full steam ahead on a fast train ride to hell.

But one thing for damn sure I’m not buying a ticket to ride. I’m sitting tight here at the replica Roman Colosseum, hitching my wagon to Gen. Slats Grobnik and his Second American Revolution.

It is the only way out of this mess. No riots like in Minneapolis. No fighting. No million man protests. No falling for the Jesuit Hegelian Dialectic Jesuit plan, pitting Left against Right. No playing their game of order out of chaos or divide and conquer.

This revolution had a simple plan to break the long standing Jesuit curse on America, breaking it in to a million pieces. And that was what Slats was doing as we speak, gathering the first of many trinkets from the first of four important stops at Georgetown University.

I was patiently waiting for orders to meet him at our next stop in Rome and since I had some time on my hands, thought I’d do a little research into these satanic references connected to Covert 1984.

Like I said, I am not getting on this Jesuit train ride to hell. I’m not complying to the mask, the stay at home orders, the testing, tracing and tracking.

No sir, not me.

But to my longtime adversary who I owe my reason writing and living, you guys connected to the Vatican/Jesuit led NWO need not worry in the slightest.

Despite this call to arms of Give Me Baseball or Give Me Death to this quite curse-breaking revolution, the Rulers of Evil will have millions upon millions of passengers who will willingly climb aboard their satanic train ride to hell.

Americans without objection will go to the vaccination slaughter house like the obedient workers they are.

And knowing this, these evil rulers no longer even need to hide their satanic black robes. HR 6666 is the first step to the slaughter house and it is called the Trace, Test, Reach and Contact Everyone Act, which is moving through the House right now.

It authorizes the Department of Health and Human Services guided by the CDC to give out $100 Billion this year alone–and more if needed–to pay various local hospitals, health clinics, universities, high schools, and non-profit organization including churches, and any other entity determined eligible, to hire locals to track down and identify people who might have “the virus”.

What virus? We really don’t know if viruses exist. But there are 100,000 Corona deaths in America, almost the highest in the world. How can that be? we know it can’t be because the numbers don’t make sense and everything is counted as a corona death!

To make things easy, I explained it well three or four months ago when I said rather sarcastically that a man was walking down the street and was hit in the head and died from a 300 pound falling pig. Cause of death, Corona Virus.

That explains it all. Skew the numbers, get the media parroting nonsense and it’s Katie by the door! One thing, though, how is that by the CDC’s own weekly death numbers compiled for the last three years actually shows there are 2 percent less deaths this year than last?

Funny how those simple things get in the way and, when looked at that way, doesn’t sound much like a pandemic, does it?

From the get go, this world lock down in the guise of a pandemic was orchestrated to create fear, control and total domination. In the end, this corona sun ritual will make Jesuit Fr. Stalin, Catholic loyalist Hitler and all the Inquisition Popes look like the Mouseketeers at Disneyland.

I have been on this Jesuit satanic trail for a long time ever since covering the Vatican Bank Scandal during the 1980’s in Rome, warning people left and right that all roads lead to Jesuit headquarters at Borgo Santo Spirito, 4, 00193 Roma RM, Italy.

But it never matters.

Only a tiny few listened, most shrugged a shoulder casting a blind eye, saying it couldn’t be so.

And now, here we are, facing a 1984 draconian nightmare that only  a precious few knew was coming.

However, the absurdity of a world lock down over an orchestrated invisible pandemic has now brought millions of skeptics to the shocking reality that it could be true. It could be true that there really is a Vatican/Jesuit led NWO bent on controlling your mind, body and soul before it’s all over.

But back to this absurd lock down and the Nazi tracking, tracing and testing coming to every doorstep sooner rather than later.

The question has been asked why the House of Representatives chose 6666 on the recent nationwide tracing, tracing and testing legislation? The answer is simple: They are satanic, doing the bidding of their true Rulers of Evil in Rome.

Of course, there are many more satanic clues hidden in this corona virus death ritual. In a recent article by George Mackenie entitled Satanic References in the Corona Virus Scandemic he points out the following. Although quite detailed, it is well worth reading:

The conclusion is inescapable: The entire coronavirus scenario is not just a hoax and scam, it is the blatant emergence of evil into our world. So when Democrats and progressive do-gooders–and anyone else–proclaim their virtue in trying to keep us “safe”, in eagerness to help the elderly and the “immune compromised” and “the most vulnerable”, let’s help them understand they are colluding with evil. Any cooperation with the entire coronavirus phenomenon is cooperation with evil. We must reject it wholesale.

The following is my most compelling point that the entire coronavirus scamdemic is truly evil. I recently followed some links from the latest Children’s Health Defense article, from RFK Jr’s site. The timeline showed in January Chinese researchers had identified the genomic sequence of the “novel” COVID-19. Now I was interested, because I have been hearing excellent analysts such as from Jon RappaportOur Interesting Times and David Icke saying there is no “novel” coronavirus, it’s all a made up scam. So here was a path to finding out. I clicked through a couple sites, and followed a footnote which showed the submission the Chinese researchers–along with one Westerner, E C Holmes–had made to Shanghai Public Health Clinical Center & School of Public Health, Fudan University, Shanghai, China. From there it was listed at the National Center for Biotechnology Information, part of the US NIH, a database known as GenBank where such genetic sequencing identification for organisms is archived. That’s where  I found it.

I scrolled down the page, noting many preliminary details, such as the names of the authors (all Chinese except Holmes E C), the fact that the research was published in the prestigious and popular—-but founded in corruption and  manipulation of science–journal Nature, and more details. Then I came to the genetic sequence. It is a looong listing of variations of the letters A, C, G, T. Remembering basic science, these are called ‘base pairs’, and they represent the amino acids Adenine, Cytosine, Guanine and Thymine. The listing is presented as groupings of 10, with gaps between, 6 groupings per line, and line after line going down the page. I didn’t count them up. With hundreds? of lines, the sequence is hugely long.

As I was scrolling down casually, disinterested in these groupings of letters except to verify that yes, researchers had in fact identified a “novel” coronavirus, I suddenly remembered something. Over a month ago, Joseph Atwill had said on one of the Powers and Principalities podcasts he does with Tim Kelly that the final genomic sequence of this “virus” ended with 33 A’s. He and Tim chuckled, part astonished, part knowing, since they see through to the evil at the core. At first upon hearing this, I was astonished and outraged, but then skeptical. In talking with my friend, who also listens to Kelly/Atwill, he was excited to tell me about it. When I scoffed and said that sounds like propaganda, he laughed and seemed to agree. I had dismissed it since then. 

Now I was interested. I swiftly scrolled down past all the lines of letters and found the very end of the sequence. It was the very end of the page as well. And there, on the second to last line, the final grouping of 10 letters were all A’s. On the next line, two more groupings of 10 were all A’s. And completing the sequence, 3 more A’s. 33 A’s in a row, completing the genomic sequence of the “novel” coronavirus, known as COVID-19, as identified by Communist Chinese–and E C Holmes–researchers.

To confirm, I scanned back up through the sequence. Nowhere did I see more than four of the same letters in a row together in the sequence.

Now let’s be clear what this means. Rappaport, Atwill/Kelly, Icke and a few others are right: There is no “novel” coronavirus. Not only is the genome sequence as submitted by the Chinese researchers and their colleague E C Holmes a fraud. It is evil! It’s all a Satanic joke! 33 is a Freemasonic signal number. The Freemasons are said to have 33 levels of membership, with only Jews and a very few special Gentiles achieving the pinnacle of Satanic initiation to the top of the hierarchy. Many analysts have noted the subtle display of the number 33, or 3 alone, in Hollywood movies and other media. The 2011 movie Contagion, which depicts our current dilemma almost exactly, is particularly flagrant in displaying 3 and 33. Other numerology is also signaled, such as 11, but 33 has emerged as the primary Satanic symbolism lurking in our public consciousness, implanted by the Luciferian overlords. And they are signaling again to us with their phony genomic sequence, ending in 33 A’s.

I double-checked and was fascinated to see that the January 17 posting of the genome sequence was a “replacement” of an earlier one posted on January 14 to the Department of Zoonoses, National Institute of Communicable Disease Control and Prevention, Chinese Center for Disease Control and Prevention, Beijing. I went to that posting and saw that Holmes E C was not among the authors, only Chinese authors. The end of that genome sequence displayed no 33 A’s, only the usual random sequence of letters. But this posting was also a “replacement” of an earlier one, on January 12. It too had only Chinese authors and no sequence of A’s at the end. It too was submitted originally to the Chinese CDC in Beijing .

With each “replacement”, the title changed:

January 12 – Wuhan Seafood Market Coronavirus Isolate…

January 14 – Wuhan Seafood Market Pneumonia Virus Isolate…

January 17 – Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome Coronavirus 2 Isolate…

Why did they switch the 1/17 submission from the Chinese CDC in Beijing to the University in Shanghai? Why the change in titles, finally settling on the second most popular name after the otherwise ubiquitous COVID-19, SARS-Cov2? Who is E C Holmes?

E C Holmes and the Cornoa Conversion to Evil

Edward C Holmes is an evolutionary biologist and virologist currently a Professor at the University of Sydney in Australia. In 2012 he became a National Health and Medical Research Council Fellow. Funding for Holmes’ work has come from:  Royal Society, the UK Biotechnology and Biological Sciences Research Council, Canadian Natural Sciences and Engineering Research CouncilRhodes TrustWellcome Trust, United States National Institutes of HealthNational Science Foundation, Australian Research Council, and Australian National Health and Medical Research Council.

Of these, the Royal Society stands out as an epicenter of world evil. “The Royal Society is the oldest and most respected scientific society in the world…” It formed in 1660. “…the Royal Society founders were the first scientists and the last of the sorcerers.” Most of the founders were Freemasons, including Christopher Wren, Isaac Newton, and King Charles II.

This is not the place to present the history of the Royal Society, but let us look at the role it is playing today in the Coronavirus Scamdemic. Of course, “Fellows of the Royal Society and people that we fund are contributing to the UK and global effort to tackle Coronavirus COVID-19.” All the standard war propaganda is presented, the quest for a miracle vaccine, control of the narrative and suppression of dissent, and attempts to drive the prediction panic through control of computer modeling. This last control point is essential, as I showed the role of computer modeling in previous articles about Bill Gates. The Royal Society developed Rapid Assistance in Modeling the Pandemic (RAMP), and got 1800 offers to “help” on its initial “call for volunteers”. The goal of RAMP is “to enhance modelling capacity in time to create a clearer understanding of different exit strategies from the current lockdown.” They hope “RAMP will allow more robust and comprehensive predictions than would otherwise be possible.” Count on it, the numbers will be apocalyptic.

Should we have any doubt of Royal Society affiliations, it has given out Microsoft, Esso (oil company) and Glaxo-Smith-Klein awards, among others.

The Royal Society convenes the G-Science Academies every year since 2005, bringing together the science academies of the “G7 nations, (USA, UK, Canada, France, Germany, Italy and Japan), Russia (G8) and other nations.” This year they released “The Critical Need For International Cooperation During COVID-19 Pandemic“, emphasizing “URGENCY OF INTERNATIONAL COOPERATION” (caps original). This is one way the cult of World Controllers at the Royal Society coordinate the international scam. 

The Royal Society is active in making Artificial Intelligence acceptable to global populations. It has modules and papers on “AI, Society and Social Good”, “You and AI”, “AI Narratives” and others. Its cutesy cartoon video called “What Is Artificial Intelligence” explains for the lay person and children, and includes “assisting unhappy motorists” in challenging parking tickets using an app. The blessings of AI.

E C Holmes was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 2017. His picture featured on his Wikipedia page was taken at his admissions day to the Royal Society. Holmes’ research into virus evolution and how they can jump species is very supportive of the current theory being used to lock down the world. His particular focus in the past on such lucrative diseases as Hepatitis C, influenza and HIV makes him quite valuable to the international medical profiteers. He also makes predictions for what new diseases will afflict humanity in the future and how they will spread. He helps indoctrinate future “virus hunters” with textbooks he has authored, and mentors impressionable younger researchers to keep their focus on viruses and ignore other health factors. Likely Holmes has never read “Virus Mania: How the Medical Industry Continually Invents Epidemics, Making Billion-Dollar Profits At Our Expense“, because he’s one of the inventors. On March 17th  of this year,  in a sub-journal of the science psy-ops journal Nature known as Nature Medicine, five authors published a scientific article titled “The Proximal Origin of SARS-Cov-2“. It’s purpose was to reject the growing suspicion and evidence that “the virus” was bio-engineered. Using scientistic language too complex for anyone but an evolutionary virologist, the conclusion became clear: “(There) is strong evidence that SARS-CoV-2 is not the product of purposeful manipulation.” “…we do not believe that any type of laboratory-based scenario is plausible.”

Anong the five authors? E C Holmes.

This paper’s elaborate and detailed analysis of the COVID-19 genomic sequence contained no explanation nor even mention of the extraordinary 33 A’s that complete the sequence. This is strong evidence that the genome sequence listing in the NCIG is the product of purposeful manipulation. A highly likely conclusion is that Holmes tacked on the 33 A’s as commanded by his Satanic masters behind the Royal Society to convey their Luciferian hoodwink, the hidden joke. The fact that the Royal Society was founded by Freemasons, and that the number 33 is paramount in Freemasonic numerology, supports this conclusion.

Editor’s Note: Catch Part XIII of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Greg has been waiting for more than three weeks for Slats to grab some necessary items from Georgetown U to break the Jesuit curse on America. Things have changed and, once Molly the carrier pigeon returns with further directions, Greg will then be off to meet Slats in Rome, leaving from his location at the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within, an enemy bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournal.wordpress.com

The replica Colosseum is a super-structure built on the direction of master builder Slats Grobnik over the last two decades. His intention was to entertain the masses as the Vatican/Jesuit NWO cabal would be in the ring fighting as gladiators to get a taste of their own medicine.

Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution,Part XI

Go ahead bring on another stay at home order, another day with a mask, tell me I can’t go bowling, ride a horse or go skinny dippin’. I don’t care one bit because in my world tonight it is the 9th inning of Game 7 of the 2016 World Series and, in just about one out, the Cubs are going to win it all for the first time in over 100 years. 

By Greg Anthony

The days of wine and roses are over. Say goodbye to the good ole’ days, the days when men where men and women where women.

It’s all upside down, inside out and backwards now.

Holy shit, it really is! But not me.

No sir, not this Polish Jew from Chicago. I’ve got it all handled. Made in the shade. Slippin’ and slidin’. Shakin’ and bakin’. I’m standin’ right side up, head out of the sand and the hell with that Vatican/Jesuit led New World Order.

Taking the time to smell the roses and nobody’s telling me otherwise, at least for today.

Today is different. It’s a whole new dawn and crack open another Old Style out of the fridge, I said to myself turning the remote to pause.

Go ahead bring on another stay at home order, another day with a mask, tell me I can’t go bowling, ride a horse or go skinny dippin’.

I ain’t listening.Never heard the word Covid 19. Don’t even know what it is.

Is it a bird. Is it a plane. Is it super man virus that gives you the sniffles.

Hell if I know and, frankly, I don’t give a shit.

I don’t care one bit because in my world tonight it is the 9th inning of Game 7 of the 2016 World Series and, in just about one out, the Cubs are going to win it all for the first time in over 100 years.

And I have stayed true to form like the old days when I used to drink a beer an inning in the right field bleachers at Wrigley.

Those were the days. But didn’t do too bad tonight. Drank seven cold ones in 9 innings and not bad for an old fart, not bad.

Never get tired of watching the Cubs win it all, played it five straight nights and never gets old. Have to admit after about the 8th inning things got a little tipsy as I mixed in a shot or two of whiskey, pretending I was back in Sam’s Tavern on the North side of Chicago when I first met Slats and we downed a few and talked like crazy loons about how the elite bastards were screwing us little guys.

 

Those were the days. But fast forward to today and, boy, have we come a long way, traveling that proverbial crooked road to hell and back so many times.

Here I was for the last three weeks in the belly of the replica Roman Colosseum that Slats built in this Kansas cornfield.

And there was Slats going undercover in Georgetown University, collecting trinkets to break the awful Jesuit curse put on America so things could finally get back to normal after this stupid Covid 19 was foisted on the world by those damn Rulers of Evil.

Slats was now Gen. Slats Grobnik leader of the Second American Revolution and I was waiting patiently for the return of our messenger, Molly the pigeon. Our trusted messenger was carrying my orders to meet Slats in Rome, our second of four stops to collect items necessary to break the Jesuit curse put on America long before 1776.

Too loaded and tired to think anymore, I fell into a deep sleep, one of those fall on the couch sleeps with your clothes still on and a half filled beer on the coffee table.

When I awoke it was still dark, my head hurt like hell and I forced down some hot coffee, wondering where the Sam Hill I had been all night.

It had to be a dream but I wasn’t  talking dreams anymore.

This was real. The Colosseum was real and I looked at the Emperor’s box out the window to make sure.

No more dreams. There was no time. It had to be now or never.

The fight. The revolution. The  breaking of the curse. It had to happen now or the entire world would be plunged into a pit of snakes and demons.

I had banked everything on Gen. Grobnik and his call to arms “give me baseball or give me death’.

Why not? What was left? A world gone to hell in a hand basket was left,  a Covert 1984 world where these rulers of evil wanted to control your mind, body and soul.

Not over my dead body, I said trying to get rid of my headache and sipping down more coffee.

As they say, there is a time and season for everything and this was the time to say enough is enough. It was the first time I really felt I would rather die than live like this, live like a rat in a cage.

I looked out the window and saw a flock of birds in the distance, hoping one was Molly.

It was almost overwhelming to think that on her tiny wings rested the final hope for humanity and, with that heavy burden, she was also bringing a flicker of light where there was darkness, hope where there was despair and bringing the multitudes one step closer from being out from under this whopper of a Jesuit occult spell.

Editor’s Note: Catch Part XII of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Greg has been waiting for more than three weeks for Slats to grab some necessary items from Georgetown U to break the Jesuit curse on America. Things have changed and, once Molly the carrier pigeon returns with further directions, Greg will then be off to meet Slats in Rome, leaving from his location at the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within, an enemy bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournal.wordpress.com

 

 

 

Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution, Part X

Who else could have constructed a massive, gargantuan Roman Colosseum without even the CIA knowing about it? Who else could have finally figured out the ways and the means to finally break the Jesuit Occult Spell foisted on America long before 1776? 

By Greg Anthony

The days and nights passed quickly since Molly the pigeon left for Georgetown U on the behest of Gen. Slats Grobnik, leader of the Second American Revolution.

Her mission was to rendezvous with Slats by the statue of Albert Pike in Washington D.C., grab some items he collected to break the Jesuit Curse on America and then high tale it back here to the replica Roman Colosseum hidden in a Kansas cornfield where I had been holed up now going on two weeks.

The original fighting patriots of the First American Revolution used couriers on horse back. Gen. Grobnik preferred pigeons, flying low under the radar.

This was his genius, making all think he was weak, half nuts and ridiculous, rendering himself and his revolution virtually invisible to the  enemy.

Who else could have constructed a massive, gargantuan Roman Colosseum without even the CIA knowing about it? Who else could have finally figured out the ways and the means to finally break the Jesuit Occult Spell foisted on America long before 1776?

All his soldiers knew he was a mastermind, the best since sliced bread.

And all his soldiers called Gen. Grobnik the modern day equivalent of George Washington.

But, come to think of it, they knew deep down he was even better.

He was not a Freemason in an apron. He was definitely not a closet Catholic like George or a secret society member and, he most assuredly, didn’t carry any other hidden agenda in his back pocket like Washington.

No, he was the real deal, the real enchilada.

Gen. Grobnik would never have built our Capitol on sacred Catholic ground in D.C. or never have let the occult architects design the whole city like a secret demonic worshiping playground dedicated to the occult gods.

In fact, Grobnik vowed to expose all this nonsense, expose the bitter truth about the hidden agenda behind America’s foundation as well as ridding the country of the occult 555 foot obelisk masquerading as the Freedom Statue behind the White House.

Grobnik was the real deal. His motives true. His convictions solid as a rock and his dedication to toppling the Vatican/Jesuit led New World Order’s intentions of destroying America second to none.

He even promised to remodel the US House of Representatives Chamber, ridding us of the two Roman Fascist symbols behind the Speaker’s podium.

There was a whole lot more on Gen. Grobnik’s agenda to give America a clean bill of health, including but not limited to banishing Dr. Dracula Fauci and his merry band of White House sorcerers and wiping clean the use of the words Covid 19 from the American vocabulary.

Then there was the dismantling of the Chem Trail program, the 5G towers, NASA, the Antarctica Treaty and much, much more. Silently, he wanted to rid the schools of all globes decorating classrooms but that could wait for another day.

There were more important things than the arguing Flat Earth vs.Globe right now.

First things first!

There was a country to take back, a world to save.

And believe it or not it all rested on the tiny little wings of Molly the pigeon being able to fly back to safety here at the replica Roman Colosseum with the first items taken from Georgetown U to break the evil Jesuit Curse.

Could it really be done?  I thought as I peaked out the window, seeing the surveillance drones flying above.

It seemed impossible, against all the laws of God, nature and man. This was a curse, a whopper of a curse, far bigger than any man had ever broken before, dating all the way  back farther than even the Knights Templars.

With all man’s technology and high fangled machines, to think the future of humanity rested on Molly’s tiny little wings was mind boggling.

Could Molly even make it back from D.C. with the first of the many trinkets needed to break the curse?

Could she out maneuver, out smart and outwit the greatest US Air Force known to man to get back safe?

Well, I thought with a glimmer of hope, if the three Arabs with box cutters did it, maybe she had a chance?

So I waited patiently by the window, keeping a candle lit so Molly could make a safe landing on the window sill.

Cracking open an Old Style beer, I turned on the 2016 Cubs World Series win in Game 7 and surmised if the “lovable losers” could break the curse of the Billy Goat after over 100 years of not winning a World Series so could Slats break the evil Jesuit Curse.

“Give me baseball or give me death” was the call to arms of the Second American Revolution and Slats picked it for good reason and good luck.

If the Cubs could do it, so could we, so could we!

Editor’s Note: Catch Part XI of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Greg has been waiting for more than two weeks for Slats to grab some necessary items from Georgetown U to break the Jesuit curse on America. Things have changed and, once Molly the carrier pigeon returns with further directions, Greg will then be off to meet Slats in Rome, leaving from his location at the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within, an enemy bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournal.wordpress.com

 

Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution, Part IX

My eyes were closing. The blackness. The blood. Little children sacrificed on the altar. Every time this comes back, my mind is twisted like somebody is tightening a vice to my head.

By Greg Anthony

The message came special delivery courtesy of Molly the pigeon.

How she got it out of her little claw or was it a foot and flicked it from her tiny beak into my hand was truly amazing.

Who needs Amazon drones when there is Molly?

Molly was my only means of communication from my location in the replica Roman Colosseum hidden on private property in a Kansas cornfield.

I had been waiting here more than a week for the return of Gen. Slats Grobnik, the leader of the Second American Revolution.

Molly insisted on some ice cold water and chips to quench her thirst and appetite after her long journey.

She pointed to the Doritos and I obliged, thinking she is quite a particular bird but  deserved it and more.

As I readied the blue lamp and special magnified reading glasses in order to read the coded message from the General, my mind wondered off to some deep and dark place yet to be identified by any living man.

It had been an exhausting month, lucky to be alive was the first thing that popped in my mind. Abducted by the cartel, interrogated and then a harrowing escape all for just writing about the Second American Revolution and the Covert 19 Jesuit hoax!

But I had been in tighter spots, thinking back to the time I was trapped in the Vatican catacombs when I was trying to get pictures off a tip I got from an informant about the child sacrificing satanic ceremonies.

The informant said they took place once a month on a Wednesday night after the Pope’s speech from the window overlooking the multitude gathered in Vatican Square.

I got out of the catacomb’s mess after I knocked out a Swiss Guard with a left hook, walking right out of the place with a big spear in my hand undetected.

My eyes were closing. The blackness. The blood. Little children sacrificed on the altar. Every time this comes back, my mind is twisted like somebody is tightening a vice to my head.

It is hard to imagine The Order, as they are called, could be involved in such abominations but they are. We have to live with it but thinking about it is the hardest part.

Molly must have sensed my pain, jumping on my shoulder and whispering in my ear, ”Read the damn note. I flew a long way. It’s from Slats and it’s important stuff.”

Now the secret is out! Pigeons do talk in Kansas if you listen hard enough.

Clearing my mind and taking Molly’s thoughtful advice, I carefully opened the message from Gen. Grobnik. I was hoping to meet him today but this would have to do.

Dear Greg,

By the time you read this, I will be undercover, dressed in black as a Jesuit inside the belly of the beast at Georgetown University. 

As we know the enemy has locked down the nation with a phony invisible enemy. They must be stopped. I received your message about your free at last dream and the Jesuit curse placed on this beautiful land. 

You are quite correct in your assumptions and we are of like mind in looking for the way to once and for all break this curse. 

Do you remember the movie classic Bell, Book and Candle starring film great, Jack Lemon? I hope that is his correct spelling and for the life of me can’t remember the female actress but think it was Kim Novak.

To make a long story short, we need a number of special items to put in a special concoction in order to have a chance to break this curse. It’s a powerful whopper of a curse but it can be done if we act quickly and smartly.

Our first stop is Georgetown. After conferring with several Curse Breakers in New Orleans we need a number of things from Georgetown which, after collecting, must be placed in a hermetically sealed bag.

Referring to the Curse Breaker’s instruction, which by the way I paid a handsome sum for, there are four destinations we have to go to in order to collect each and every item.

I will handle getting the needed items here at Georgetown, one being a lock of hair of Fr. Luigi Franconi, the director of this Covert 19 Reality TV show they are putting on every day to huge ratings.

There are too many others to go into but I expect it should take a week or so, maybe sooner. If they should catch me and slice my head off, I have left instructions with Molly on how you are to proceed. I think by now you realize Molly speaks but in case not just ask her.

However, I am confident I will get in and out of here without being identified as the leader of the Second American Revolution. 

One last thing, our second stop after Georgetown is the Vatican as well as Jesuit headquarters in Rome. I will need your help on this one since you lived in Rome for seven years.

Be of good mind and spirits as I know if we act quickly and follow these specific directions, we can break this evil Jesuit curse.

Once I finish collecting the necessary items from Georgetown, your flight instructions will be given to you and we will meet in Rome.

When you finish reading, send Molly back to Georgetown and have her meet my by the big statue of Albert Pike. She will know where it is as she needs to bring back  some important items necessary to break the curse. 

Give Me Baseball or Give Me Death, signed Slats Grobnik

Molly heard me reading out loud and was already off and flying east over another cornfield, heading to the enemies stronghold at Georgetown U.

All of this was happening so fast. It was too much to grasp. Two months ago America was normal. Now The Great Depression was looming, a dictatorship and World War III on the horizon. More plandemics. A Jesuit curse to be broken.

All this in the hands of two Crazy Chicagoans of Polish descent.

My grandmother hated Hitler and Russia, refused to watch Khrushchev on TV  so I guess it was right we do the job if not for the American people but for a little needed revenge and to show the Jesuits they were getting off scot free for all those Polish jokes!

Can’t think one more second about all this so I turned on a rerun of an old Cubs double header when Ernie Banks played, put a 12 pack of Old Style on ice and vowed to drink a beer an inning just like I did when I was a kid sitting in the right field bleachers at Wrigley Field.

What a thought! Baseball again. No Covid Insanity. A cold Old Style freezing my hand.

It wasn’t Wrigley, only a rerun but when Ernie hit one onto Waveland Ave. and Jack Brickhouse shouted out Hey! Hey! I chugged that first beer down so fast it was just like the old days, just like the old days, just like the old days when fans actually could go to a ballgame!

Editor’s Note: Catch Part X of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Greg just waits for Slats to grab some necessary items from Georgetown U to break the Jesuit curse on America. Things have changed and Greg will then be off to meet Slats in Rome, leaving from his location at the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within, an enemy bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournal.wordpress.com

Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution, Part VIII

It’s Only a Dream, the Curse Is Broken

By Greg Anthony

It was over, finally over.

The madness ended without a shot being fired.

The Vatican Jesuit led NWO cabal were loading their ships, packing their evil bags  and getting out of Dodge.

As quickly as their Covert 19 false flag staged plandemic had locked down America with the snap of Pontifex Maximus’ finger, it was the Rulers of Evil who were now social distancing themselves from the victorious patriots.

The rag tag, peasant forces of Gen. Slats Grobnik Second American Revolution toppled the biggest elite cabal in the history of the world as easy as blowing out a candle.

The underdogs had won. Hollywood, now called Grobnikville, was already making a movie.

And, while locked away in chains, a large number of the ruling elite hostages, including many Jesuit spies working in the media and most all walks of life, had already signed contract agreements to appear as gladiators in the replica Roman Colosseum built by the mastermind leader of the revolution, Gen. Slats Grobnik.

How did he do it, pundits and talking heads throughout the world were shaking their heads and asking in utter shock and amazement.

Good old America was now opened for business and the rest of the world followed its lead.

The umpire at Wrigley Field shouted, “Play Ball”! The revolutionary slogan, “Give Me Baseball or Give Me Death” had proved effective.

Everything was back to normal except for one big change. Well, a lot of big changes!

There was an empty Capitol Building, White House and Supreme Court. No lobbyists, no politics as usual at all.

All the Governor mansions where cleaned out and emptied.

Georgetown University and its School of Foreign Service had been abandoned.

In fact, all the Catholic, Jesuit, and infiltrated American Protestant churches and schools were emptied out, waiting to be filled with freedom of thought and religion once again.

Some Christian Bible believers called it a miracle of all miracles, praising God’s divine hand for intervening just in the nick of time.

Others were looking for a more earthly, natural cause, trying to pinpoint the straw that finally broke the Jesuit New World Order’s back.

Was it the genius of Slats Grobnik. Was it pure luck or a slip up by the Jesuit high command who underestimated this rag tag army.

Did they forget to use the Sun Tzu art of war tactics they so aptly deployed for centuries while fomenting world war after world war and revolution after revolution.

Or was it simply like Slats Grobnik stated “the curse had been broken”  when he took over the FOX News air waves, sending Rupert Murdock and his merry band of Knights of Malta packing on a cargo ship set sail for Nowhere Land.

The whole world was watching listening with bated breath as the General sat behind King Trump’s White House desk for his first public announcement to a weary America ready to get back to important things like shaking hands, kissing in public, taking off the idiotic masks, swimming at the beach, playing golf and having dinner at Grandma’s house without the Covert 19 stay at home orders being in place.

“The Satanic Occult curse has been lifted,” said Slats with a most serious look on his face while the rest of the world remained puzzled. “As of this moment you are free to think again, free to speak openly again and, most importantly, freed of this evil Jesuit curse that has been cast upon this great land since even before 1776.

“Those who are responsible for this evil spell have been confined like we have been confined for months. Once the curse was broken, a brightly covered Vatican flag appeared magically on all their foreheads so they where easy to test, track and trace like they were doing to us for all those months.

“A complete list of these Jesuit shills will be listed in every town square across the country as we can now say the entire dirty swamp has been finally drained to coin a phrase from King Trump, who we sadly report can be seen with a Vatican flag shining from his forehead.

“In keeping with the privileges bestowed on Kings who have been toppled from their authority, we have allowed “The Donald” not the Duck to be held on house arrest in his Trump Tower penthouse mansion until he can be safely transported to the replica Colosseum I built where he has already agreed to perform as one of our gladiators.

“My fellow Americans, with this curse broken and the Rulers of Evil banished from this land forever, it should be a completely different America, one that now finally makes some kind of logical sense especially considering this invisible Covert 19 hoax they foisted upon us.

“One last thing before I fill in all the details at a later date. Dr. Dracula Fauci has escaped and we think he is headed for Rome or on a slow boat to China. He should not be hard to spot as he is smaller than the average jockey and resembles the devil. But remember he is a man hungry for blood so be careful and watch out.

“Good night my fellow Americans, God bless you, and God bless America.”

My trusty messenger, Molly the pigeon, was pecking and scratching at the window sill as I opened my eyes from a deep sleep.

The curse! The revolution! Jesuits banished from the land!

How could it be, but sadly with tears running down my face and my body covered in sweat,  it be only a dream!

I curled up again on the couch and covered my head with the pillow as Molly would not shut up.

My spirits were lifted as I thought It’s only a dream but maybe it’s a good dream, a dream that will someday come true.

It came true for Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. And it can come true for me too, I thought as I sat up quickly, springing to my feet in my hideaway in the replica Colosseum in the Kansas cornfield as I awaited Gen. Grobnik’s return.

I quickly wrote a message to give Molly.

It was for Slats who was supposed to meet me here two days ago.

“Slats,” I wrote in very small letters so Molly could fit the message in her tiny claw or was it a foot.

“I had a dream, a dream like Martin Luther King. It was a dream where you figured out the curse and how to break it. Is it true. How can it be broken.

“ If so, free at last, thank God we are free at last!”

Molly was truly excited to get flying again as I tucked away the message in her tiny little claw or was it a foot.

“Give it to Slats, Molly. Go ahead girl, the future of the whole world rests on your tiny little wings.”

I watched Molly fly north over the Kansas cornfields and I knew deep in my heart one more day of this lock down may kill us all. We had to act fast.

The curse needed to be broken now or I knew it was curtains for all of us.

Fly Molly, fly. Get Slats back here! We need to break that curse. We need to break that damn curse!

Editor’s Note: Catch Part IX of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Greg just had a dream the Jesuit Curse on America was finally broken. He is still waiting for Slats Grobnik to return for their face to face meeting at the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within, an enemy bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournal.wordpress.com

Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution, Part VII

Millions of Americans were being held captive in their homes by an invisible enemy and I was thinking about The Three Stooges? 

By Greg Anthony, Part VII

There it was. A magnificent structure.

Finally, my eyes were fixed, transfixed on what for years only my dreams brought to life.

The replica Roman Colosseum in that Kansas corn field.

What beauty. What elegance. It looks like it could touch the clouds.

The Roman arches like in Ben Hur.

What a careful design. What intricate occult chiseled writings. Done tastefully, I thought, done without the slightest intention of offending feminists.

But it definitely looked, smelled masculine, no place for a woman to do battle.

It was herculean in size, shape and structure built to honor the androgynous gods. just like in the old days of Caesar Augustus, Charleton Heston and then, I laughed out loud, saying to the corn rows:

“Didn’t the Three Stooges play gladiators in chariots in one of their old sitcom TV shows?”

Of course, they did. Why did I even ask? I think Moe hit Curly over the head with a hammer in the end?

As I sat down in the fields of corn looking at the 8th Wonder of the World, I saw the Stooges dressed as gladiators but could not even remember what one of those other seven wonders actually were.

Snap out of it. Don’t fall into an occult trance now. Don’t blow the whole day away. I was here for a purpose, something of paramount importance.

Millions of Americans were being held captive in their homes by an invisible enemy and I was thinking about The Stooges?

Unacceptable.

So I stood tall, pretending to pull out my sword, talking to my invisible steed like Don Quixote as I walked down the very nicely laid cobble stone road to what looked like in the distance, the entrance gate to the Colosseum.

Along the way there were many signs intended to direct the patrons. One said in bright red colors:

“The gladiator events may get bloody.” Others read: “Children under 18 not allowed.”

“All gladiators have been verified through the Citizen Surveillance Organization (CSO) as card carrying members of the dreaded Vatican/Jesuit led NWO Gang.” “Fighting to the Death are the Rules.” “Only Emperor Slats Grobnik can  grant a pardon.” “There is a jumbo tron scoreboard for action packed instant replays.”

There were many more but It was a nice touch.

Slats had thought of everything, and I couldn’t help but notice a lot of parking, maybe for a 100,000 cars, which kind of reminded me of Dodger Stadium when fans were allowed at baseball games.

When I reached the entry gate, drawn spears blocked my path.They were carried  by what looked like two members of the old Roman Praetorian Guard.

“Who goes there? Who seeks to pass through these gates?”

“I Sir, Greg Anthony of Mexico, of The Investigative Journal. I am here on direct orders from Gen. Slats Grobnik.”

“Your Papers?”

I looked puzzled patting my pockets like I had nothing, thinking Slats thinks of everything, doesn’t he.

“We will inquire, Sir Anthony.”

I expected them to pull out their cellphones and call Slats but instead they lodged a note in a pigeon’s claw or is a foot, letting him fly loose over the corn field.

“No cellphones here. Too dangerous. easily tracked,” one of the guards explained.

As I waited for the bird to return, the guards allowed me to look at some of the intricate writing on the great wall of the Colosseum.

This is Master Mason work, I thought, touching what looked like the many cross-like insignias stretched in a long row. a closer inspection told me they were the signature of the head deity of Babylonian mythology, Annu..

“Hey, is this Annu?” The guards stood silent like statues, figuring they were trained like the Swiss Guards at the Vatican.

This Slats Grobnik was as sly as a fox, I surmised.

He crafted the Babylonian Annu signature all the way around the walls of Colosseum just like they are displayed on so many of our U.S. and State government buildings like the ones on the US Supreme Court building in DC.

Why would the Supreme Court be identified by the Babylonian god, Annu? Doesn’t make sense considering we swear on a Christian Bible!

But Slats knew, of course.

The sly fox was telling those with eyes to see, brains to think and the courage to fight against the rulers of evil who actually put those Babylonian Annu insignias on the Supreme Court building.

For those interested, the Babylonian myth of Marduk begins with the god, Annu, looking down on the land in chaos, overrun by monstrous serpents. It’s kind of like looking down on the land in chaos today since the invisible Covert 19 invisible enemy arrived.

It is necessary to remind those interested that this Marduk and Annu myth resembles almost to a tee the biblical story of Cain and Abel as well.

For starters, in the myth, Annu wants Marduk, who was the first born son of the moon goddess Ea, to clean up the land, kill the serpents. Marduk agrees only on one condition. The condition was that he become first among the gods, his words having the force and decree of Annu.

Annu agrees, vesting him with the power and insignia – Annu’s signature – declaring with this that Marduk now possessed the power and authority of the gods. This is kind of what the Pope, President and other world leaders all think they are today, thinking we are just like Babylonian gods!

Back to the myth. Marduk with this newly given supreme power then wore this Annu signature like the badge of a top police officer, identifying him truly as a god among mortal men.

In fact, this ordination or mark of power has by design lasted through fifty centuries,the Babylonian nations never without it as are the nations today, all carrying the same signature or mark of the gods on many or their buildings just like in the Marduk myth.

For example, it is found on the flag of Great Britain, being called the iron cross and said to signify the union of St. Andrew’s Scottish cross and St. George’s English cross.

That seems to be a cover, I thought.

Annu’s cross is also found on many U.S. government buildings, especially adorning courthouses like the Supreme Court.

What’s the story there? I have to ask.

Looking for it elsewhere, the Annu cross can also be found engraved in the pavement surrounding the Obelisk in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican  where millions have stood to receive Papal blessings.

Why there if they profess to be Christian? Why adorn the square in honor of Babylonian gods?

Slats had the answer, saying something like:

“I know the Pope and Jesuits hide behind Jesus and Christianity and, for starters the U.S. government and Vatican worship false gods while deep down thinking they have the force and decree to rule over the peasants of the world like Babylonian gods of the past.”

It was sly, in your face trick putting the Annu signature on the Colosseum but I liked it.

About that time, the pigeon came flying back with a message in his claw or is a foot?

The guards waved me over and handed me the written message. It was from Slats.

“Szymanski,” calling me by my real surname, “The guards will escort you to the Green Room or tunnel like the one you write about so often between Georgetown Jesuit University and the White House.

“Your articles gave me the idea to construct such a meeting room as it feels like home since we have been electronically bugging that place for so many years. I promised never to give away our secret but that mechanical fly on the wall idea was so ingenious that it went unnoticed even by the top CIA bug detectors.

“The room or tunnel has a fully equipped bedroom, bath and kitchen for your convenience being the exact replica of the one at Jesuit Georgetown that was used when heads of state who did not cooperate were drugged, tortured and compromised by ladies of the night.

“In the room there are refreshments and a case of your favorite Old Style Beer. Don’t drink it all in one night like you did at your old fraternity college parties. The guards will bring in your meals, there is a surround TV if you want to watch Netflix or the news and really all the conveniences just like at your home in Mexico.

“During the day, don’t worry stay at home orders are not adhered to, the guards will show you around this magnificent Colosseum at your leisure. All I ask is no photos or cellphones. If you need to send me an urgent message, we have Molly the pigeon at your disposal.

“As I know you trained race horses and now have 5 or 7 of your own dogs, there are a number of malamutes running around the grounds to keep you company as well as a great white horse to ride. The white stallion is trained to dance while pulling a chariot like the one you went on when you lived in Rome with that famous horse trainer from Ben Hur, who had been relegated to performing at Toga parties for drunken Americans at the Hotel Hilton in Rome.

“One last thing as I have an important meeting scheduled with one of our other generals in what I call the Upper Midwest Revolutionary Sector..

“You will find the remotes on the coffee table and a leather bound notebook saying the Protocols of the Second American Revolution. It is about 325 pages of reading material to get you up to speed on the progress and strategies to divide and conquer the Vatican/Jesuit led NWO before it controls the entire planet. Excuse me, I know you call it a flat plane.

“We have solid intel that there will be a break in the action coming soon during this  obvious Covert 19 worldwide plandemic takeover. Eventually it is going viral again   for two or maybe three more years. This might be the right time to strike before their forces lock it all down too tight to ever have a chance of recovery

“So enjoy, read the material and I will return in several days for our long awaited meeting. How long has it been since we threw back a beer an inning sitting in the right field bleachers at Wrigley. I don’t recall much of the score or who the Cubs played but it was a double header, as I recall, so that was a lot of beer.

“That reminds me. This is not Chicago or America when there is no drinking at baseball games, no fans. Unacceptable. I must shout out from the hinterlands ‘Give me Baseball or Give Me Death!’

“Yours in War and Peace, Gen Slats Grobnik.”

I was quickly led by the guards to the replica Georgetown Green Room Tunnel. It was everything and more than Slats said it was, including being debugged and soundproof.

Cracking open a cold Old Style, I flicked on Game 7 of the 2016 Cub World Series win, getting angrier every inning knowing I cannot go to Wrigley this year.

Give Me Baseball or Give Me Death, I said to myself as I looked at the leather bound strategies of the upcoming revolution, all 300 pages sitting on the coffee table just like Slats said.

He thinks of everything, Grobnik does. He thinks of everything!

Editor’s Note: Catch Part VIII of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Greg is waiting for Slats Grobnik to return for their face to face meeting at the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within, an enemy bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournal.wordpress.com

 

 

Gen, Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution, Part VI

Pursued by a drone and a  small doctor with a large needle, Greg escapes by the hair of his chinny, chin,  chin, making his way to the replica Roman Colosseum in a Kansas corn field and a meeting with Gen. Slats Grobnik, supreme allied commander of the Second American Revolution

By Greg Anthony

A large drone with an ambulance siren screaming hovered over the rooftop. A life line was lowered with a small man about 13 inches tall hanging on the end of it.

It looked like he was holding a long syringe and a thermometer to take my temperature. But I couldn’t be sure.

The little man was hanging outside my window like a puppet on a string, looking like the Pillsbury dough boy, the one in all those TV commercials.

Dough Boy had MD embroidered in black on his white coat and he was definitely a small mechanical man, not a little mouse or something

“I am the Covid 19 doctor making a house call especially for you, Mr. Anthony. Now open the window, roll up your sleeve and let me give you this nice little shot.”

How’d they get him to talk, I was thinking.

“Aren’t you going to take my temperature first? I am as healthy as an Ox.”

“Doesn’t matter. No symptoms, no temperature. Everybody has the Covid 19. Now roll up your sleeve.”

He appeared angry, resting his little feet on the window sill. How could such a small robot carry such a big needle, I said to myself not wanting to hurt his feelings. He may have been looking for a heart like the Lion, Scarecrow or Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz. I couldn’t remember which one.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”  I had to figure out something. They were not going to poison me now.

The Dough Boy nodded Okay, smiling with his hand outstretched just like in the commercials. He then went limp like they shut off his motor.

This was my only chance, my last chance to getaway.

How ingenuous to use a Pillsbury Dough Boy, I thought, walking through the house and noticing a double barrel shotgun hanging on the wall in the living room.

The farmer said this this was safe house. He was dead wrong.

This was my third night here in this guest house out by the utility shed in the farmer’s sprawling 1,000 acre dairy farm, not far the Kansas corn field where Gen Slats Grobnik of the Second American Revolution built his replica Roman Colosseum.

That was my destination after being abducted 12 days ago, flown from Mexico to Kansas on a cartel private jet, interrogated for fomenting revolution but finally escaping by the hair of my chinny, chin chin.

I gotta out of that hotel where I was held prisoner through the bathroom window after getting my three Mexican cartel abductors drunk on tequila.

And if you recall, I left the locked box they wanted me to give to Grobnik on the nightstand, knowing it was a time bomb or maybe a chemical biological agent that would kill us both. I knew it was something bad and didn’t want to take any chances.

So now  I was only miles from Gen. Grobnik and the Colosseum but they were hot on my tail, nabbed by a drone with a Pillsbury Dough Boy. This would be a most embarrassing way to die, worse than getting hit by a 300 pound pig falling from a rooftop.

Think fast. No time for second thoughts so I took the shotgun off the wall, loaded it with two 12 gauge cartridges  and walked back to the window.

The Dough Boy was still hanging there, limp. I hid the gun under the window.

“Okay, ready to get shot, I mean, I’m ready for the Covid 19 vaccination.”

The Dough Boy came to life like a magic man as soon as I said “vaccination”, like he was MK Ultra programmed or something.

“Will it hurt? Then will you leave, Doctor?” I said nervously touching the rifle beneath the window, getting it ready if needed.

I slowly opened the window  while he was readying the needle. He was quite good at it. Who needs human doctors anymore? I thought.

“Now roll down your sleeve It won’t hurt,”  the Dough Boy demanded.

I got real, real close to the window but, instead of rolling up my sleeve, I grabbed the rifle, pointed it straight and right between his little eyes.

“Don’t shoot, please don’t shoot,” he yelled, dropping the needle, thank God.

It is amazing what goes through one’s mind in matter of a split second even when pointing a loaded gun at a mechanical 13 inch robot.

I can’t hurt the Pillsbury Dough Boy, I thought as he looked look up and yelled to the drone “Pull up the rope, pull it up before he shoots”!

It happened so fast I really don’t have a clear recollection of what went down.

But, thinking back, how I cut the Dough Boy’s lifeline, him falling to the ground unhurt and, at  the same time, shooting down that stupid drone, is anybody’s guess but quite a miracle.

Before hightailing it out of there, I looked down to say  bye to the Dough Boy, who was smiling and looking peaceful lying on the grass just like in the TV commercials.

How could anybody not like the Pillsbury Dough Boy?

With that thought, I made my way running like a Greyhound to the dirt road. Peeking back, the farmer’s Golden Retriever was in hot pursuit, the drone dangling from his mouth, and me thinking, “Drop it, boy, drop it or you may get the Covid Virus”!

Editor’s Note: Catch Part VII of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Greg looks for safe haven from the run in with the Dough Boy, drone and the Covid Gestapo out to kill him and destroy the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within, an enemy bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournl.wordpress.com

Gen. Slats Grobnik’s second American Revolution, Part V

Dead men tell no tales. Dead men don’t upset the apple cart. Dead men don’t contradict the Jesuits and dead men don’t question the mainstream Covid Virus story. 

By Greg Anthony

It was either now or never, thinking the only way out was through the bathroom window.

Gustavo, my trusty cartel body guard, was out like a light on the hotel sofa. He had too much tequila and the other two thugs holding me against my will were three sheets to the wind in the room next door.

Right after the Covid Boss, I called him the Decision Maker, gave me my marching orders last night, I knew it was curtains

He sounded reasonable but it didn’t matter. His body language told me I was a dead man.

Dead men tell no tales. Dead men don’t upset the apple cart. Dead men don’t contradict the Jesuits and dead men don’t question the mainstream Covid Virus story.

I did all those things in spades so the only thing left was to make a run for it while my drunken abductors were asleep at the wheel.

I looked at the locked box on the night stand. They gave it to me six days ago to give to Gen. Slats Grobnik of the Second American Revolution. My destination tomorrow was to go to the replica Roman Colosseum, give Grobnik the box, wait for instructions how to open it and then Sayonara Charlie!

I knew is it was a fancy bomb. Do they think I’m stupid? They think we’re all stupid, useless eaters and dumb as a door nail.

And maybe they are right?

Why would 30 trillion people lock themselves away without a peep when our owners snapped their fingers, telling us we can’t go outside and play because we might catch a cough and a cold?

Good question. No time now for answers..

I hopped on the toilet, took a roll of toilet paper just in case and flopped out the bathroom window.

 

Boy, did I run. I don’t think I ran that fast since my college football days when I played tailback for WIU.

I dodged three homeless people and two garbage cans in the alley, the football tucked in my arm just like I scored the winning touchdown my junior year against Central Michigan.

Damn, it was cold that day. But I would give anything to be back there.

I kept running, dodging, hopping over beer and whiskey bottles. Those were the days, back in the day playing football when America was free, rent was cheap and jobs were a dime a dozen.

Not any more, I thought, as I ran out of gas, winded.

I must have run for what seemed like an hour. Wichita was like a dead zone. No one on the streets save the homeless, military armored vehicles and a few drug dealers.

In fact, there were hundreds of homeless sleeping in cardboard boxes, makeshift tents and some just lying in gutters. I thought if the homeless can go out, why can’t we? They’re all snoring, don’t appear to be sick. What’s the big deal?

Out of breadth, I parked myself in an alleyway under a staircase to get my bearings.  I had to get to Grobnik while talking to myself I blurted out “the Colosseum, where the hell is it”?

“Got a smoke?”

The voice came from behind the dumpster across the alley. Then I saw a man with a Cub hat peep his head out.

“Did I hear you say Colosseum?” he said

I walked closer as he stretched his hand out for a smoke. I gave him the bottle of tequila I took from the hotel room instead.

Colosseum, yeah, I’m looking for it.”

“You came to the right place, buddy. I’ll take you there, don’t you worry.”

I thought the guy was playing me for a fool, looking for an easy mark to get my wallet and then scram.

But when he said “Gen. Slats Grobnik,” I changed my tune.

“I’m a member of his Second Revolutionary Army, 1st Brigade Infantry and out getting recruits by night like Paul Revere. Got thirty good homeless men ready to go. All they need is a meal. My name is Sergeant Maxmillion Bonafart, like Napoleon but with an F.”

“How’d you know Grobnik,” I asked.

“Everybody knows the loon, but he is not so loony now. He built that Colosseum from the ground up. It’s a big story around here, most people think it is a soccer stadium like Field of Dreams and can’t tell you how many times they wanted to put him in the loony bin. But now he’s a damned hero. He’s the General!”

“Can you take me to him? I swear I’m not the Covid Gestapo.  I could see he was looking sideways and thinking maybe I was a spy so I talked fast.

“The name is Anthony, Greg Anthony of the Investigative Journal, the Greatest Show on Earth. I’m on every day on First Amendment Radio and CRN National Radio on Friday nights.”

“Never heard of you. Wait one minute.”

He took out a cell phone and made a call.

“Okay, you’re good. One of my boys said he is getting a lot of good laughs from your Covert 19 commentary. I can take you Grobnik. Let’s go.”

We shared the bottle of tequila, making our way out of town. It was still dark as he we headed down a dirt road between the cornfields.

“This is where I let you go,” said Sergeant Max, adding we would see each other again on the battlefield. “You’re joining the Army, right? They have a senior’s brigade, don’t fret.”

“Yes, joining, of course,” thinking senior brigade my ass.

“Just go to the first farmhouse on the left and give the farmer this medallion. He will know what to do with you.”

Max handed me a gold medallion. It said Slats Second Revolution. Give this token to your local gun dealer and get a free double barrel and a couple boxes of buckshot.

Holding the medallion tightly, I looked at the safe house, thinking one step closer to the Colosseum or was it nothing but a trap?

Too tired to care one way or the other and all out of ideas, I knocked on the farm house door as the rooster crowed announcing my arrival.

 

Editor’s Note: Catch Part VI of Gen. Slats Grobnik’s Second American Revolution as Greg looks for safe haven from the Covid Gestapo out to kill him and destroy the replica Roman Colosseum, headquarters for the freedom fighters trying to rescue America from the enemy within bent on turning the world into a one world order hellhole. Catch all Greg’s radio shows and stories at greganthonysjournl.wordpress.com