Did Geraldo Rivera Make Me a Criminal?

By Jack Heart 

By the middle of the eighties Reaganomics had already thoroughly infected the country and with it came crack cocaine for the nation’s urban poor and working class. With my upscale landscape business I made more money than most catering to the whims of the few who prospered from Reagan’s Voodoo economics but my friends for the most part with the exception of John were the “poor and infamous,” as Phil liked to call himself. 

Earlier in that decade that saw the American dream die at the hands of the globalist elites my foreman for my landscaping business had been a Black guy named Steve Husbands. We were up at a place in Amityville that was called The Block. At the time it was probably the worst area in the country. The Five Percent Nation of Islam was just taking hold and they had laid claim to the pool hall on the northern corner as their clubhouse. Crack had not yet been invented but these were the same fledgling “gangstas” that would go on to become the Supreme team of Rap folklore. If you take the express from Jamaica to Amityville it’s about a twenty minute ride on the Long Island Rail Road. There were more people from Jamaica than from Amityville hanging around the dilapidated store fronts that comprised the Block and there were always hundreds of people milling around at all hours of the day and night.

At the time Steve was making over a thousand dollars cash a week working for me and in Black culture back then that entitled him to the finest girl. Her name was Candy. And believe me she was. One of the Five Percenters was upset that Steve had taken his Candy and wanted some pay back. Now Steve’s brother Michael was a renowned martial artist whom Chuck Norris refused to fight and Steve himself was a nationally ranked hundred and sixty pound wrestler so it wasn’t much of a fight. Steve proceeded to beat him like the proverbial red headed step child and I sat in the cab of my 1700 International laughing but it soon turned deadly serious. The rest of the Five Percenters came swarming out of the pool hall and engaged the outnumbered Rasta’s who had been cheering Steve on since he was Jamaican. 

Predictably in the wild melee that ensued I lost it. The next thing I remember was Steve driving my truck as I was making a perfect shot with my 300 Savage rifle, skipping a six inch chunk of black top right into the back of a fleeing Five Percenter. The whole corner of the pool hall was collapsed. It turned out that I had sent the big flatbed wheel hopping in its lowest reverse gear right through the front window. Then I went home and got the rifle and had Steve drive while I took pot shots at their feet as they scurried for cover. I remembered none of it. Needless to say I had serious anger management issues…

The police force was not yet a paramilitary unit and since my truck had my name and telephone number prominently displayed on both sides I attributed their lack of retribution as a display of their gratitude to me for doing their dirty work for them. That pool hall would remain boarded up till the Block was finally torn down decades later, a reinforced monument to the Mr. Hyde who lived inside me. Eric welded my tail lift back together and nobody from the Black side of town would ever fuck with me again. This was to be my undoing when later I would develop a crack problem. 
A few years later I started frequenting a house just south of the Block occupied by a brother and sister; Jonathan and Renee, about the same age as me. Jonathan and Renee were poor and black. The Block was now featuring the largest chunk of freebase that could be had in the NY area for the smallest amount of money. Twenty dollars would buy more than a gram of rock. If you took it to Lafayette and Hunts Point in the Bronx you could make a quick hundred dollars. I knew plenty of guys who were. It seemed like freebase had been legalized at the Block. The police were almost completely absent and the surrounding neighborhood lay in ruins. Those that remained untouched by the madness never left the safety of their own homes. My whole construction crew would smoke at Jonathon’s house and we would leave jobs undone for days while I crashed out there. It got so my mother who was a prominent landscape designer and my business partner was afraid to get paid for fear that she would have to pay me. 

One day Renee, a couple of miscellaneous Black guys and I were indulging in our depraved habit in the back bedroom. ‘Rasta Joe’ burst through the door with a shotgun. I threw Renee on the bed behind me. I looked in his eyes and saw he wasn’t going to shoot if I did not force the issue. After all I had been on his side five years ago at the pool hall. Besides rushing a shotgun at anything less than a few inches is suicide. Rasta Joe backed out of the room snarling at Renee to tell her brother “somebody’s got to pay.” Gradually I got to know everybody in the neighborhood even Rasta Joe who was a nice guy when he wasn’t leveling a shotgun at you. 

Pi and his family lived in a two story home with a finished basement right across the street from Jonathans. There were two brand new cars in the driveway and the home was immaculately furnished. Everybody in the neighborhood knew the family had nice things. Pi was retired but he had worked hard all his life to acquire those things and his wife still did as a registered nurse. Eventually the whole family would succumb to crack addiction with his wife holding out the longest until one day her car stopped leaving for work in the morning. I will never forget the day Pi and I were in the basement when he started bellowing up the stairs at his son “what did you do with daddy’s pipe?” 
I was partying one day with Pi’s nephew; Andre, in a room he rented in Pi’s house. Andre was a really tough Black guy about the same age as me. He looked at me and suddenly got introspective. He said “I know you ain’t no cop but I’ll tell you this. Somebody’s watching you. Some Nigger from the city was hot on Renee and he was really jealous of you. Crackheads told me he was laying for you outside in the bushes with a gun. Somebody jumped him and knocked him out, threw him in a car. Nobody’s seen that Nigger since.” I never even asked Andre whether the guy who jumped my would-be assailant was Black or White. I just figured I got lucky. The guy had already done someone dirty and payback came at an opportune time for me. 

When I was 14 years old I had been in a work program where urban kids were given summer jobs by the state cleaning out local parks. Kenny’s brother and I were the only White kids in that program. Kenny was my best friend at the time and his stepfather had used his position as the Bay Constable to pull some strings and get Kenny’s brother, his biological son, and I in there. I became close friends with a girl in the program named Tracy Bowen. We had remained friends all through high school and she had even signed my favorite pair of blue jeans which considering the kind of juice her brothers wielded in the Black underworld was like a free hallway pass through Black occupied sections of a school notorious for its race riots. 

Tracy’s family had been heavily involved with the local commerce and had burnt the house to the ground one night while cooking shit up. Tracy now lived in a trailer next to the burnt out shell of the house. Her bodyguard Clyde was her constant companion. Clyde looked like a giant black fire hydrant and had a similar personality. Tracy needed a bodyguard because the bottom of the trailer was paved with stacks of twenty dollar bills. I am not exaggerating. There looked to be at least a million in twenty’s strewn carelessly around that trailer at all times. Sometimes I would get high with my childhood friend but it always made me really nervous being around all that cash in that neighborhood. I do not care how tough either Clyde or I were.

Nietzsche’s most famous maxim is “what does not kill me makes me stronger.” Freebase cocaine did not kill me. It became inevitable that I would give it up. When I did kick the habit I was angry. I had sat in a front row seat and watched sorrow and human misery be distributed in a highly addictive and smokable form.

At the time I was naive and blamed the Suffolk County Police Department. I was streetwise enough to know that cocaine could not be sold that cheap, illegally, for a profit. I knew it was coming in at the Chinese restaurant on the south corner of the Block and I thought I knew who was bringing it there. I contacted Geraldo Rivera through one of my mother’s clients; Dr Frank Fields, who was the Science Editor for WABC, the network Rivera was working for at the time. Having grown up in Babylon, the neighborhood adjacent to the Block, Rivera took an immediate interest in the story. After confirming that there was an open air drug market in the middle of suburbia Geraldo set me up with his brother; Craig. In those days they were a team. Craig did all the field work, principally the filming and Geraldo took care of the production and presentation. 

I took Craig into Jonathon and Renee’s house where we placed a duffel bag rigged with a camera in a prominent position on the dresser. One of the Crackheads became fixated with the duffel bag and started asking questions about it and Craig’s abstinence. Craig started stammering an answer that he had to keep an eye on the bag but I put an end to the whole matter by telling the Crackhead that if he was going to smoke and get paranoid he would have to leave. We stayed for hours and when we finally left Craig talked incessantly about all the great footage he had and how none of it would have been possible without me. Craig asked me to go for dinner and drinks but I declined. I was there to do a job not socialize. 

Craig spent days filming the Block and the Chinese restaurant with a film crew hidden in a van in the parking lot of the Social Services center across the street. He was very excited about the footage he had acquired of the police ignoring blatant transactions as they sat in a squad car next to his camera crew across the street. He had also caught some of the mysterious comings and goings at the Chinese restaurant. The restaurant was frequented by two or three middle aged Black men who seemed incapable of dressing without finishing off their ensemble with some off-white raincoats they had purchased from central casting of the Pink Panther. One of them had a large birthmark on his face that made it impossible for him to go unnoticed. We figured the raincoats had to be from a precinct in the city which had worked a deal out with Suffolk County PD. 

Both Craig and Geraldo seemed to think we had the story of the year. Geraldo said that this would be a one hour special but when the show finally aired it was less than fifteen minutes and used none of the footage I had got them and never even mentioned the Block. I was told by Geraldo that’s just the way the TV news business is. The studio made the final decision on what would be aired. 
The next time I saw Geraldo it was on TV as I watched along with the rest of America and he failed to produce the ‘hidden treasure of Al Capone.’ He made a fool out of himself and the station which had relentlessly promoted the one hour special before it aired. By then I was already charged with second degree assault on a police officer. My life would never be the same again. I remember how much I enjoyed watching Geraldo tarnish his career forever on national TV. At the time I did not know that he had been fired from his job at ABC over his criticism for their refusal to air investigative journalism that was critical of the government. I just knew that I needed to get my teeth capped. 

When the show had not aired I had not been disappointed. I picked at least half of my labor up from the Block every morning and I enjoyed living in Suffolk County where I still did some work, even though most of my jobs were in Nassau County. I continued living my life as if nothing had happened because nothing had. I pulled into the Block one day and I was stopped by Suffolk County PD. Two cops about thirty five years old each got out of the squad car and I got out of my International truck. 
The two of them belligerently asked what I was doing there and one climbed into my truck and started fumbling around. I really had no answer for them. I was there every day frequently mingling in the crowd. It was as if I had showed up for work and was suddenly asked what I was doing there. One of them began poking me with his nightstick. He poked me quite a few times before I decided to disarm him, wrenching the club from his grip and tossing it away. His partner came around behind me and grabbed me in a chokehold with his nightstick. I grabbed the club and used his grip on it to whirl him over my back at the same time dislodging the stick and taking possession of it, which I dutifully tossed away. 

I was well aware that they could shoot me. All the while more cops and people were arriving. The crowd was becoming openly hostile witnessing the police assault one of the few reliable employers in the area. They had to be forcibly restrained by the arriving cops. Suddenly a guy comes running out of the crowd and starts throwing powder puff punch’s at me. It was none other than birthmark still wearing his Pink Panther raincoat. 

I brushed him aside and looked around. I thought about letting Mr. Hyde loose but I knew it could only end in my death so I let them handcuff me. The two cops I had disarmed took me in their squad car and as we pulled out of the parking lot the passenger cop said take the long way and with that turned around and proceeded to knock almost every one of my front teeth out. He struck me viscously as many times as he could and with as much force as he could generate with the nightstick within the cramped quarters of the squad car. 

Every time he smashed me in the face I would sneer fuck you and spit blood and teeth at him. When we finally did arrive at the station house I figured the Commanding Officer would want to know how my face got like that but instead I was taken into his office and the door was shut behind us. He mocked me as the beating continued all night we me hand cuffed to his desk and hidden from view of the other cops. 

The three of them were all laughing at me with the Commanding Officer saying “you’re supposed to be such a tough guy. I never seen no tough guys cry before.” I don’t know why but I just blurted out “someday somebody’s going to break into your house and beat your son the same way you’re beating me.” I saw his face drop and his ruddy red complexion go pale. He looked like a suddenly staggered prize fighter. Weeks later he would make repeated teary calls to my mother asking how I had known. It turned out that was exactly what had happened years ago. Four men in ski masks had broken into his home and beat his son into a coma. He was now a vegetable. I heard he quit the force shortly after my beating. By then he was a mental case. 

I was bailed out the next day. When the case went in front of the Grand Jury I chose to testify. By now my regular lawyer; Sidney Chase, had been disbarred for accepting stolen merchandise for his services. Chase had sued the Amityville Police for me and won twenty-five thousand dollars. He had sued a lot of other cops during the course of his career. I guess they got tired of him and set him up; at least that’s what I heard. He was steering all his clients to a legal lightweight named Bruce Torino. I believe it was under Bruce’s advice that I did not mention Geraldo Rivera at the Grand Jury hearing. In retrospect Bruce was probably Sidney’s brother-in-law. 

The two cops showed up looking only slightly less gay than Don Johnson in Miami Vice. Charlie Bartle, the one that had done most of the clubbing, was even wearing Topsiders with no socks along with some kind of theatrical plastic caste. Many of the people in the grand jury were Black and made it obvious that they did not believe either the cops or the heavy hitter District Attorney who was assigned to prosecute me. They were deadlocked for hours which I was told is very rare at a Grand Jury hearing. But she did finally get the indictment. I would end up with a felony conviction that virtually assured the strangeness that would follow in my life. 

The Reagan administration was perhaps the most corrupt in American history. Gary Webb chronicled the drug dealing in his 1996 expose book; Dark Alliance. The CIA was trading guns for cocaine with the contras in Nicaragua and bringing the coke into America for distribution as crack cocaine in America’s cities. In response to Webb’s book Reagan’s successor Bush senior appointed an Inspector General to the CIA. The newly minted Inspector General Frederick Hitz issued two reports in 1998 containing devastating admissions about the CIA’s knowledge and protection of contras known to be active in the cocaine trade. In Volume Two, published on Oct. 8, 1998 Hitz identified more than 50 contras and contra-related entities implicated in the drug trade. He also detailed how the Reagan administration had protected these drug operations and frustrated federal investigations throughout the 1980s. The reports were ignored by the media in favor of the by now President Bill Clinton’s sex life. Webb ended up committing suicide by shooting himself twice in the head. 

It had never made sense to me that a police department, even ones as well heeled as SCPD or NYPD could shut a reporter of Geraldo Rivera’s stature up. At the time he was the biggest thing on television. Only after reading Webb’s book around the turn of the twenty-first century did I realize what exactly had happened to me. I would run into birthmark again when I became head of security at the Café Royale, New York’s swankiest strip club, shortly after reading the book. He liked groping the girls and handing them 100 dollar bills. He even had the nerve to say hello to me. I thought about shooting him in the birthmark but instead I stashed the Devil and my 357 magnum in my shirt…  

Jack Heart 2018

My book is  


Buy it NOW! 


Those Who Would Arouse Leviathan: Memoir of an awakening god Paperback – January 5, 2021



  1. Here is what the evangelicals say where I go to church

    They say we live by the spirit

    As many say lord guide me

    If one is still how can he receive guidance

    To move is how the spirit works

    As you move he moves with you

    I would say this just move

    Off the couch

    See where he is

    Gospel I see

    Poetry deniability


  2. I am of course with Duff as he laid it out course Fox republicans are old and will be dead soon and if I can help them along a little I am all in.

    Well then I have a pension and social security and fuck you if you disagree

    Thrift savings to boot

    A payed off house and anything I can do to end you sooner

    Stroke heart desease for you as I piss you off as a bard

    Am all in

    Poetry deniability


  3. My, my, we've lost that lyrical touch all of a sudden, what what?
    But not if I hoof you a good one in the nutsack first, old man.

    A. was right: you seem hopelessly lost in the Bi-Partisan paradigm, indeed. Good luck with that.


  4. Well Ali go fuck your self course in the Democratic Party there is a group that takes no corporate money and has candidates that have rased millions of ma and pa money as in person I would as jack says knock your teeth out…


  5. Riiiiiiiight, Nine; vote Democrat and save the country….because they don't fiddle with kids and suck cock.

    Whatever you say, Ali.


  6. 'we can cross space, without moving a muscle'

    Oh, yes, Jack,,,watched Dune, and read the whole series, many times. Highly recommended for those of us who still like to turn a page and learn something,,,


  7. All you gotta do is watch Dune George, they were fantasizing when they made that though. I don't think they had any idea of the consequences of awakening the Sleeper…

  8. Well this was my way of saying Reagan just about destroyed America, but in his defense, he was a confirmed coward who dodged WW II and later ratted out all his friends in the Communist party to save his own skin, he had already been shot once. He wasn't coming back for more. I'm with you and even more so, someone starts giving me that FOX spin on Reagan i am very liable to knock all their teeth out, above is their reason if they want to know when they wake up…

  9. For your republican readers jack from Mr Duff:

    "Stories laden with truth are never easy. Twice during our most recent tenure on this painful rock, the US has been saved, temporarily at least, by men of grace, wit and heart. Their names were William Clinton and Barack Obama.

    Clinton took office after a 12-year moral hiatus – Reagan spending America into bankruptcy, de-industrialization, a nation overrun with low wage illegals, the most corrupt (officially) administration in America’s history until Trump."

    Republicans are domestic enemies as I am 5'10" 180 lbs well muscled in my early sixties can work a punching bag quite well and fuck you if you disagree.


  10. cray-cray isn't even the half of it, Tara. What stretches our imaginations is kid's stuff for those in the know. And remember: pretty much everything you've been conditioned to believe (you, me, everybody) since childhood is just not how 'it' really 'is' at all.

    Check out Counterpart; and an earlier gem, 'Fringe', for a quick glimpse at what's REALLY going on. Thing is though: you have to watch every episode and listen to every piece of dialogue carefully,,,,,they really do give you the full picture as Duff has eluded to already.

    May you live in interesting times.


  11. The stuff in cursive down was only for you guys Tara, I gotta do something a little different for the general public, the masks are off on Patreon, if you finance this then you are part of the team, i don't hold out from my team mates. Here, proper decorum will be observed, let them find out for themselves…

  12. Excellent! McDuff the Crimedog is on fire! Are we going to see the latest Patreon piece on VT? Or has that ship sailed? Come on Mr. Duff give the people what they want. We want Heart. I’m still the self appointed president of the Jack Heart fan club. See ya in Valhalla babe.

  13. Got one of the TRUELY good ones from Gordon Duff, as Dylan would say every word glows like burning coal…

    "When looking for heroes, a dangerous thing, be is Castro or Assad or Putin, simply know that we only know what we are told and what we are told is what, in almost every case, profits those who control what we are told.

    The cash is there, the muscle is there, controlling “fake everything” is a minor effort, a Hollywood production, “years in the making,” or a “well-oiled machine.”

    Nothing is true, not one word of religion, of news, they even lie about physics and calculus." – Gordon Duff


  14. Transdimensional colonization, exactly George, wrote a little about it on Patreon, everyone's so angry, ohh…

    Names will be confined to Patreon, because by the act of paying me, which mind you nobody else does, I am obligated to my Patrons to tell them exactly what I know. And those of you who don't like that, anytime my friends, anytime…

    What we are going to be figuring out on here, in public, is exactly how long this has been going on, I think your all gonna be shocked, I was…

  15. OMGoddess, George! For reals? Somebody else please weigh in on this transdimensional colonization deal. That’s just cray cray but I believe it. Thanks for sharing that. I think it takes guts to comment like that. Now I’m trying to wrap my pea brain around the new piece on patreon. Don’t miss it everybody.

  16. and that's the tech they demonstrated for the Norwegian rubes with camera phones, Jack. Now imagine what kind of shit they REALLY get up to.
    Transdimensional colonisation, anybody? Now we can go AND come back at leisure.
    But you'll never see that trick on YouTube. Ever.

    (cluck! cluck! cluck!)


  17. Yes I’ve seen that video. I wonder if that’s an in through the out door situation. What gives? Are they exits or gateways into this hologram reality construct? If it’s a gateway what’s coming in? Chicken farmers perhaps? Then again as they say in real estate location, location, location. And this location seems to be on the wrong side of the tracts.

  18. I don’t know if it’s real or not. There’s a lot of hinky crap on the internet but it looks real. I tried to find an English version of the video on YouTube but I didn’t see one.

  19. We have already been at War for 4 years now Nine, I know the Djinn are at our side but I just don’t see anyone else. Lots of people still think they can straddle a fence that no longer even exists. We have 46 donors on Patreon and others who use the US mail, which mind you let me take this opportunity to thank Heretic drummer. Thank you my good Heretic. Other than that we got an overcrowded funeral pyre to which we have just added Orages brother. I’d call the rest of you cowards but that would be redundant and besides I never state the obvious. You all seem to know about non linear warfare but ain’t any of you learned about asymmetrical warfare yet. Now we do the Norse and we got a surprise for all of you. Lynch has warned you, now we will show you…

  20. My Hitler pal is all depressed as ole nine had to deliver a pep talk!

    The war has come home to American shores as our own dear federal intel agencies can wage info war against us.

    As they read this as I will tell you mother fuckers you shall pay a price!

    It's on the net and uncle "G" has discussed this repeatedly!

    First rule of info war is get off the net.

    Go to church, play golf, cycle, anything as long as with real people as my favorite Democrat who was a tough mother fucker once said "all politics is local" as the war has come home and our enemies are doomed!

    I have got old and prefer a fight to a piss soaked bed in some God fosaken nursing home any way!

    Me thinks our Jack might agree…


  21. Coca Mama is only symbolic. I was constantly observing a translucent violet circle about three feet in diameter that was continuously appearing in front me, like a mirror image.
    All the psychic circuit banks of my brain interfaced and any thing I was thinking, received an answer.
    All the klever kikels that own this country were still dreaming on how to invent the contras and sandinistas in 1974, while tripping hard, high on the finest Andean cocaine, all paid for at our expense, right?

  22. Wasn’t the Genie a Djinn? Maybe on your ‘Coca Mama’ you were seeing a Djinn who shapeshifted. And no Nine, not all of us are cowards.

  23. I don’t know Nine. The regulars on here are conspicuously absent but it’s pretty chatty over there on Patreon. Who knows? I’m enthralled by this story.

  24. Stan,
    I don’t get it. Is this for real? What do the tall whites have to do with his book? I’m not being facetious. I really want to know. You’ve seen them? I think I saw one once but he had dark hair and really strange blue eyes. Maybe the hair was dyed. It was in a restaurant and he had a gang of people around him who were decidedly odd. When he walked out one of them said, “God has left the building.” I saw a robot once too working at a pharmacy. I’ve seen strange stuff in the sky too. I guess it’s ok to make these comments now. It seems like the cat’s got most of the other commentor’s tongues.

  25. As stated, there was a pattern of confrontations with our personnel, in which panic led to injury and death of our soldiers. These beings are all well-armed, and they can and do kill, sometimes at the tiniest provocation. They react and move much more rapidly than humans can, so if they decide you have threatened them, you may be cut down and bleeding out without having even been warned.
    Every Tall White adult carries a pencil-like weapon that can be set to stun, kill, immobilize, or “hypnotize” humans. It can also administer severe pain, and they frequently use it to discipline people who act in ways that annoy, frighten, or endanger them. The weapon’s actions and effects are accomplished by varying the frequency of focused microwaves to interact with specific ions in the human body.
    Although their technology is quite beyond ours at this time, evidence suggests that by other and less tangible measures – “wisdom”, “intelligence”, “moral stature” – they might be quite comparable to ourselves.
    Among the interesting matching characteristics of the Tall Whites and the Imdugud:
    Very tall humanoid “Nordic” with white skin
    Often have blue eyes
    Emit barking or whistling sounds


  26. However, loyalty says this

    as one would die for his friend

    we need a General as the war has come home

    do i have to point it out as 22 of our finest men take their lives upon our own shores every day Jack and I will quote Dylan "the enemy I see wears a cloke of decency"

    the truth has come home…

    Psy opps one oh one…


  27. Well Jack I am surrounded by women like that and blessed yet I have a daughter who has found that good men are in short supply as is it me or is there something in the water?

    She wonders too!


  28. I agree 100% with the Golden Rule Geoff; do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It’s a problem I’ve always had with Crowley. He doesn’t accept the Golden Rule. I do. But, and this is a big but because it relegates Christianity to another apathetic oriental fantasy. If someone should slap you on the side of the cheek while you are following that rule it is your duty as a child of the Gods to smite them down, verily. Vengeance is the duty of Man to uphold a lawful world in which to live in, it is the only thing, or fear of it, that keeps certain villainous entities in line…

  29. You know Tara you have something most women born of women don’t have; loyalty and commitment. You remind me of someone. There are a million and one reasons that book is flagged but the thing is I don’t recognize any referees in this game; this is street ball. There are no referees in this game. You know what they can do with their flag. I’m gonna do it for them. Just stand by as you have been doing. I appreciate it. The CIA couldn’t have pedaled their poison in SCPD’s first precinct without the approval of the commanding officer, he got his. Justice doesn’t recognize past, present and future:
    “It’s all connected”
    “What is, is. What was, was.”
    “All there is is now.”
    – FROST, MARK. SECRET HISTORY OF TWIN PEAKS. S.l.: PAN , 2017. Print. page 147; sayings attributed to Carl Rodd, owner of Fat Trout Trailer Park, in the Twin Peaks Post.

  30. Its old news, first thing I ever wrote. Just trying to keep you all amused Sand piper while I study the Norse. The Yggdrasil was never in my repertoire before, only the Sepher Yetsirah. But from where I sit the latter has abused the former; now I’m taking it upon myself, with Orages assistance, to level the playing field…

  31. Well Nine I thought that at first about handlers and that entire MK Ultra internet style urban legend but the current circumstances have borne out something entirely different. I never was any good at taking orders or even suggestions; I hardly fit the profile of your garden variety Mind Manipulator style Manchurian Candidate. Now I know why. As Orage likes to say; the Genies out of the bottle…

  32. That’s horrible. I hate cops. I thought the book had a flag on it because of the Babylon Working but I guess in light of this it’s more than that. I wonder if you still of the mind that you will never self publish? I’m broke too so I can’t afford to buy the chapters on Patreon right now. I like what I’ve read so far though.

  33. Thanks Nine. And just for the record, I have never been opposed to the just use of violence. That's why I uploaded that combatives vid. It's Jack's status as Warrior-Poet Extraordinaire that has won my undying loyalty in a world of milque-toast heroes and bland mediocrity.

  34. Fight or flight programmed into us by our controllers as dear Jack they triggered you and you can not remember what they did to you as I was a lab rat for one of our agencies as how did I survive?

    Well, living well is revenge…

    Just a thought to pass the time


  35. Well Jack I became an enforcer for the people I used to work for as violence was rare but the threat of it daily quite real.

    I told those I was in charge of that this is not a fucking democracy but rarely used force to get the job done as I always got my way not a selfish way but a way to move the organization forward!

    It is best to live in peace as I follow him..


  36. Btw, our dear Geoff's breathing techniques have been quite helpful in dealing with anger course at times Dr. Hyde should come out!

    However, if one should miss speak it's always possible to make things right. When one has honor one must be loyal to ones friends !

    Course, what would I know…


  37. Thank you nine, this is something even my closest friends never knew about me. In the circles I ran in you didn’t go around talking about your attempts to fight crime with Geraldo Rivera and comp. And yea the book should have been an instant best seller. I never expected it to turn out like this. When I wrote it my biggest worry was that I would say the wrong thing and it would put me or John away for the rest of our lives but now he’s dead and I’m still broke…

  38. No Stan, he's the real deal as guy's like Jack Heart are who they make movies about and now I am getting pissed off all over again!

    Jack is a talented writer who could do screenplays and whatnot and instead is blackballed!

    Any one honest and you know who shall screw you…

    Great work Jack Heart!


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