I am on my ninth therapist. It’s not that I’m fickle, I have lived in nine different places. And it’s not as if I am diagnosable, other than occasional anxiety, the odd depression, the normal vagaries of life.
It’s because when I was a kid I would occasionally pluck up courage to ask my father this question:
“What’s that disease mum has, again?”
“Advanced Paranoid Schizophrenia.”
I would try to remember the term, but would forget and a year later ask again. I think at one juncture or another he told me that my mother’s psychiatrist, Dr. Cameron, told him I might develop it and for certain my children would. I don’t why he would tell a twelve year old this; I think it was despair, a blowing off of steam, a reaching for assurance that I was sane. The usual pedagogy of the clan within which I was raised, ceaseless attempts to make one strong.
So the second I realized what “advanced paranoid schizophrenia” meant and had my own money, I checked into a therapist. My purpose? To forestall whatever it was that my mother supposedly had. I found it useful and now, if I want to achieve something, I hire an engineer of the mind to help me make the accomplishment, the life change, the skill I want to master. What’s that Bible verse? “But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good.” If the children of MKUltra”s victims were meant to be weakened, to live fearful lives, modelling the future these ghastly people want for humanity, my history has made me ferocious.
On July 31st, a class action suit brought by the children of Ewan Cameron’s patients was certified. Another case, a direct-action suit by the children, is suing the hospital, the government, and the university under which the hospital operated, for their parents’ unlawful use as human subjects in mind control experiments. The latter suit, in which I am also involved, is much further along in the process, having had all government motions to dismiss refused.
The brainwashing experiments had a formal name, MKUltra, and in Canada it were initiated and funded by the CIA. The Canadian government, the Royal Victoria Hospital and McGill University all clambered on board. They were led in the private sector, of course, by the Rockefeller’s insinuation into Canada’s charitable sector, notably the McConnell Foundation, aggregate barons and owners of course of the evening broadsheet in Montreal. If there were Luciferian child abuse victims in the upper reaches of Canadian society, the McConnell children were certainly among them. Speculation, but they were damaged people in their teens. By turns frightened and contemptuous. Kids who hid.
The ultimate goal being “the complete extirpation of mankind’s inner sense of identity, the tearing out of mankind’s innermost soul, and the placement, in the vacant space, of an artificial, synthetic pseudo-soul.” – Daniel Estulin
The Cameron in question is one of the 20th century’s bad men and my mother fell into his clutches when her first child died a few months after his birth. She had what was then called “a nervous breakdown”, and was checked into the Allan Memorial for two weeks, shocked, drugged into a sleep using insulin coma, then released. For the next nine months she had therapy with Cameron. I have her hospital records, though not those of her therapy. God knows what he was doing then, because she only got worse.
After her fourth child was born – she had three under five – she had an actual reality break. This was not the case with her first admission. I have those records too. I remember her when she came home. Her memory gone, a gentle wispy woman. When my best friend who had visited every day for a year, knocked on the door, she opened it, looked down and said:
“And who are you dear?”
She asked the name of our housekeeper, and who she was.
She forgot our birthdays.
She forgot her childhood. It had been erased. Later in her life she constructed elaborate scrapbooks filled with clippings and old photos, as aide-memoire.
Of her third admission, when she went in during a blizzard and emerged when it was spring, there is nothing. Gone. This is of course the mark of the program, all record of harm destroyed.
Before Ewan Cameron, my mother was an accomplished woman, a mother of three, a college graduate, a Naval Officer and editor and writer for a daily city newspaper. She came out submissive. All that strength of purpose gone.
She did not have “advanced paranoid schizophrenia”. As the other victims, she had a minor-league illness, today treated with rest, talk and judicious drugs. Cameron deliberately over-diagnosed his victims, because the experiments held more validity.
17 MINUTES YOU MUST LISTEN TO AND PASS ON TO YOUR FAMILY & FRIENDS
Video
They said it was just a tool… but what if it’s part of something much darker? In this video, I confront ChatGPT with direct questions about its influence, agenda, and eerie parallels to biblical prophecy. What it reveals will send chills down your spine.
Watch until the end — you won’t believe what it admits
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