My father insisted I watch the Walt Disney movie Cinderella with him, paralleling my existence to Cinderella's — "magically trance-forming from a dirty little slave to a beautiful Princess". In typical "reverse psychology" humor, he referred to pornographic photos when singing "Someday my Prince (prints) will come," or by placing literal sexual emphasis on "will come".

My brother, Bill, who was often featured in kiddie porn with me, was not a "chosen one" for Project Monarch (beyond supplying more children to be dedicated in later years). Yet my father figured that "what was good for me would be good for my brother". He took us to see Walt Disney's Pinocchio, explaining that my brother and I were his puppets still in the carving stage. The distortions of reality that these and other Disney theme movies provided when coupled with my father's government trained conscious and subconscious controlling influence, began to further erode our ability to discern fantasy from reality. My brother, now 37, remains psychologically locked into those traumatic childhood years and is obsessed with Disney themes and productions to this day. His house is decorated in Disney memorabilia, he wears Disney clothes, listens to my father's instructions on his Disney telephone, and maintains "When You Wish Upon a Star" as his favorite song, which has locked his children into the same theme.

My father also instructed me to watch Alfred Hitchcock's horrifying movie The Birds with him. This reinforced in my mind the movie's theme that there is "no place to hide from the birds/Byrd".

I was quickly beginning to lose all ability to question anything but my own judgment. It was easy to believe that there was indeed "no place to run, no place to hide," which is a necessary and primary psychological basis for government/military mind control. In later years, "who ya' gonna call?" and Ronald Reagan's quip "you can run, but you can't hide" echoed deep within my mind. After all, even if I could think to seek help, who would help me? The police? The church? My parents? Relative? Politicians? School? There was no one left that would help me, I sensed.

My television programming was then expanded to include the shows that every Project Monarch Mind-Control slave I knew had to watch: I Dream Of Jeannie, The Brady Bunch, Gumby And Pokey, and Bewitched. I could relate to the Genie pleasing her master, who was a Major for the Air Force in I Dream Of Jeannie. This served to confuse the reality of my own experiences with the fantasy of television production. I told all outsiders that my family was "just like the Bradys". Through Gumby And Pokey I was led to believe that I was as flexible as these animated clay performers. Therefore, I was capable of being physically maneuvered into any sexual position. The mirrors depicted a doorways to other dimensions and adventures interlocked with my Catholic conditioning and Alice In Wonderland and Wizard Of Oz theme programming. In Bewitched, it is the normal new door neighbor that is considered crazy rather than the witches. This is another reversal that was applied to my bizarre existence. I was one of the only kids in my school that listened to country music. But then, Senator Byrd fancied himself a country music fiddler and it was "my duty to love what he did", I was ordered to listen to country music or no music at all. Music was my psychological avenue for escape, a dissociative tool. But this, too, was used in setting the stage for my future as a Project Monarch "Presidential Model" mind-controlled slave.

As suggested, I read the Boxcar Children Series over and over again, I empathized with the trials, traumas, and tribulations the children endured while they fended for themselves from their boxcar home along the railroad tracks. My father often made train sounds at me in passing to subconsciously remind me that I was currently "in Train-ing" on the undeterable track of the "Freedom Train."[12] This term, taken from Harriet Tubman's underground railroad for slaves, reversed the meaning of the word «freedom» to confuse one's "one track mind" and instill the belief "I am free to be a slave". This also reinforced my training to stay on track-the plan (track) laid our for me. My father would often quip, "When God passed out brains, you thought he said 'trains' and got in the wrong line". Convicted (capital crime) career criminal, country music entertainer, and CIA operative Merle Haggard often used well documented cryptic language in his songs pertaining to government mind-control slave operations. He released songs including "Freedom Train" and "Over the-Rainbow". My father told me repeatedly that Merle Haggard was my «favorite» singer, and his songs reinforced my programming.

Of course, Senator Byrd remained my «favorite» fiddler as ordered. He played train songs like "Orange Blossom Special" while making train sounds on his fiddle. Sometimes I was his captive audience, bound and gagged, while he played his fiddle. Other times he instructed me to spin round and round like a music box dancer in order to add "new dimensions to our sex".. These new dimensions included more and more physical pain through «kinky» torture.

My father took advantage of his new political connections and advanced himself occupationalIy, manufacturing camshaft auto parts at a local factory. Soon he was promoted to a sales management position due to his connections within the Pentagon Procurement Office and General Services Administration, coupled with what he had learned about double bind hypnotic persuasion. He continued to supplement his income by sexually exploiting us children. This now included brazenly prostituting me to Muskegon Coast Guard officials while on cocaine runs to and from the base. Meanwhile, my father took us all to church every Sunday, and my mother stayed busy having babies to raise in the Project. In true pedophile fashion, he surrounded himself with children by coaching little league sports, chaperoning school and Catechism activities, and becoming involved with the Boy Scouts. All of this made him appear to be a model citizen and "pillar of the community". The illusion was fonned. The: parts of me that knew otherwise had no choice but to remain Silent.

CHAPTER 3

MY FIRST PRESIDENT

Muskegon, Michigan is a coastal tourist attraction, and home of the annual Seaway and Coast Guard festivals which bring people to the town from all over Michigan. VanderJagt remained publicly visible through opportunities such as these. My father often could be seen with Vanderjagt and was photographed at his side white judging festival events like the kiddie parades, sand sculpturing contests, and so on — all of which I entered and won. In later years, my father polished and shined the red paint of his 1966 Ford convertible to chauffeur VanderJagt through the local parades. This only served to reinforce the illusion that my father was a "pillar of the community".

In 1973, Senator Byrd instructed my father to send me to Muskegon Catholic Central High School which was overseen by the director of St. Francis of Assisi Church, Father Lepre. The Catholic church, of course, has its own political structure, with the Pope presiding over all. The strong political ties between the Catholic church and the U.S. Government was overtly evidenced by the much publicized relationship between the President and the Pope during the Reagan Administration. Of course, I had been privy to this political relationship ever since my First Communion-a relationship that the Rite to Remain Silent was intended to cover. My experience with Catholic Central's direct involvement in Project Monarch's physical and psychological conditioning further confirmed the union between the U.S. Government and the Catholic church.

When Senator Byrd changed my school from public to Parochial, he also destroyed through dissociation my school personality. I no longer viewed school as my haven from abuse, as it was controlled by the church and, as I later learned, monitored by a corrupt segment of the C.I.A.