The agent of magic, part one

The agent of magic, part one

by Jon Rappoport

July 31, 2017

I continue to publish excerpts from my book, The Magic Agent. They can be read as stand-alone pieces or in concert.

The book is a production of multiple realities…presented in part as a detective/spy story with Frank Palmer as the private eye who walks into a case that sprouts branches and layers…

NOTE: IF YOU ARE READING THIS AS AN EMAIL, BECAUSE YOU’RE ON THE EMAIL LIST FOR “OUTSIDE THE REALITY MACHINE,” I’LL BE PUBLISHING THESE LONG EXCERPTS ON MY BLOG OF THE SAME NAME, INSTEAD OF SENDING OUT FREQUENT MASS EMAILS. DEPENDING ON THE LENGTH OF THE EXCERPTS, MASS EMAILS MAY NOT SUPPORT AND DELIVER ALL OF THE CONTENT. SO GO TO THE BLOG TO PICK UP THE LATEST EXCERPTS. THANK YOU.

All excerpts of The Magic Agent are archived on the OUTSIDE THE REALITY MACHINE blog here.


“We brought that up in the hearing, Your Honor.”

“So you did. But it seems to me this is going around the block to prove your point. You’re approaching the question of whether the space-time continuum has been breached, and in order to do so, you’re offering films. It’s tenuous.”

“It’s the best way to discover people’s raw experience of time.”

“I wonder about that.”

I walked out of my apartment. Five in the afternoon. I was on the way to my office. A tall stunning woman was looking in the window of Haslett’s Bookstore two buildings down. She shot me a sideways glance.

I revised my estimate. She was maybe nineteen. A kid.

She was wearing a thin pale-blue cotton dress and a black satin jacket. Her brown hair was in a pageboy. She walked away from me and stopped at the edge of the window and looked inside again, as if she was searching for a book.

I didn’t think she was looking for a book.

I turned and walked in the opposite direction to my office on La Brea.

I sat in the office and read the Times. The Reds had shut out the Dodgers. A local businessman was trying to sue the city because workers had been digging up the street outside his store for a month. Pundits and Congressmen were questioning the troop surge in Iraq. A wealthy old cocker was trying to buy the Times.

I picked up the remote on my desk and clicked on the TV.

My phone rang. I picked it up.

A man’s voice said:

“Mr. Palmer, I need you.”

I knew he was lying. It was careless, unconcealed, and yet he broadcast a desperation that was coming from an entirely different place. It reminded me of a car crash that had been planned to look like an accident.

“What it’s about?” I said.

“I’m jammed up.”

“What happened?”

“A terrible thing.”

“Yeah?”

“My sister. She’s under threat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone wants to hurt her.”

“Right now? This second?”

“He isn’t here, but he could come over.”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“So get out. Is your sister with you?”

“No. She’s at her apartment.”

“Go over and take her out.”

“I want to.”

“You want to? Tell her to get out.”

“I did. But she won’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“She’s scared to move.”

“Does she have a car?”

“Yes. She won’t go.”

“Just go over there and get her.”

“She has the door locked.”

“That’s good.”

“I don’t know if he’ll break in.”

“Why are you talking to me? Get her.”

“I’m scared. Will you get her?”

“No. You do it. I’m busy.”

“What do you mean, busy!”

“I’m watching the College World Series.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Whoever you are, you sound like a phony. You’ll have to do a much better job of acting.”

“I’m not acting!”

“Sure you are. Is this a crank call?”

“Of course not! We’re in danger!”

“Then get up off your ass and take your sister out of her house.”

“I can’t.”

“You have a problem.”

“I’m afraid.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll try to get myself together.”

“That would be a good idea.”

“That’s all you can offer me?”

“At the moment, yes.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“He could kill Marci.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes!”

“I’ve offered you all the advice I have. What’s your name?”

He hung up.

I sat there and watched Oregon State play LSU. I had the impression he had been trying to convince me he was crazy.

A half hour later, the phone rang again. I picked it up.

“Mr. Palmer?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. Perhaps the danger has passed for now.”

“I’m delighted to hear that.”

“I jumped the gun.”

“We all do that sometimes.”

“It was an anxiety attack. That’s what I was experiencing.”

“Well, now you’re better.”

“But the threat is still real.”

“That’s always important to know.”

“Do you find this amusing, Mr. Palmer?”

“To be honest, yes.”

“You’re a nasty bastard. This is a very serious situation.”

“If you say so.”

“I may need you.”

“I don’t work gratis.”

“How much do you charge for your services?”

“I work on a case by case basis. The higher the fee, the more you would have my attention.”

“You’re not sympathetic to people’s needs.”

“Not unless they pay me to be.”

“You don’t care.”

“About anything? That’s a very broad assessment.”

I thought I heard him sniffling.

“Mr. Palmer, I’ve known people like you in my life.”

“I don’t care about your life.”

“Why not?”

“I have no reason to. You’re just somebody who found my phone number. Which is, by the way, unlisted.”

“I know about you.”

“Another vague statement.”

“My anxiety attack is over.”

“You keep score?”

“You’re a fucking prick. I can be a prick, too. I understand the impulse.”

“Duly noted.”

“I ran out of medication.”

“I understand they have drug stores that stay open around the clock.”

“I’m a professional.”

“I’d hate to have rely on your work. By the way, what’s your name?”

He hung up.

I went back to watching the game.

June 5, 2007

“He was supposed to be at his office at Langley the whole time. It was in two or three reports. The investigators interviewed everybody. I mean, that’s where he worked every day. But years later, they found out he had been in Moscow that week. Not Langley, Washington, Chicago, or New York. Moscow. Thousands of miles away. He had friends there. He was vacuuming up information. He was staying in a Dacha. Does this guy Schuster have a shadow? A double?”

Joseph Walsh, to Arthur Meriden, author of Forgotten Legends of the CIA

I was sitting behind my desk. The door to my office opened and a short wide man walked in and set down a gym bag by my file cabinet.

He pointed to a chair at the side of my desk and I nodded. He sat.

His brown eyes were glistening. He was on something. Probably crank.

“Frank Palmer?” he said.

“That’s right.”

“Bill Polowski at the Globe once told me about you.”

“Bill died.”

“Yes.”

“Eight years ago,” I said. “I’m not a reporter anymore.”

“You take cases.”

His voice was rather cultured. Not British. Artsy, especially for a guy who was wearing a red T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and had upper arms developed from lifting major weight. He had a large tattoo, HANK, in brown block letters, on his left forearm.

“Some cases,” I said.

He nodded. “I hear you have no license to practice.”

“None to practice anything.”

He was wearing dirty white flip-flops and no socks.

“That’s all right,” he said. “My name is Ralph Renari. I teach psychology at Santa Monica College.”

“You want me to ghost-write a journal paper?”

He smiled. His teeth were a waxy yellow. “No. I’m fine there. I have something else. It might be a story. I mean story in a loose way.”

“If you want something from me,” I said, “then you’re the client. I give you the information. What you do with it is your business.”

“A snoop.”

“I’m a niche guy,” I said. “I fall between categories.”

Again he smiled. “And you can make a living at this? Whatever it is?”

“My overhead is low.”

He looked around the office. The walls were bare.

I reached down to my little half-fridge, removed two bottles of Dane’s beer, a local brand, screwed off the caps and pushed one across to him. He picked it up and took a swig and set it down. “Cold,” he said.

He leaned back in his chair. “Do you know anything about clinical trials of drugs?”

“What I read in the papers,” I said.

“Well, my sister Marci was a volunteer in one. A new medication for bipolar disease. About a month after the study was completed, there was a beating. One of the volunteers beat his wife. And now Marci thinks that guy might be coming after her.”

“Oh, so you’re the nut job who called me yesterday.”

“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Palmer. I was overwrought. I’m much better now.”

“I can see that. You’ve gotten well. You’re high. Meth?”

He ignored that.

“Really,” he said. “I’m sorry. I went off the deep end for a few hours.”

“You were bullshitting me on the phone.”

“Not on purpose, I assure you.”

“So why does your sister Marci think this unnamed guy might be coming after her?”

“Because he’s crazy. Who knows?”

“On the phone, I had the impression you were crazy.”

“I can be overly dramatic.”

“It wasn’t that. You were consciously trying to bullshit me.”

“I might have come across that way. I was upset. I wasn’t in control of myself.”

“Okay. We’ll let it slide for the moment.”

“Marci’s been receiving phone calls. He says he wants to have sex with her. He won’t take no for answer. He says he’s going to visit her.”

“She knows the calls are coming from him?”

“She recognizes his voice.”

“He leaves messages?”

“No,” Ralph said. “He only makes these threatening statements when she picks up.”

“This crazo,” I said. “Do the cops believe he beat his wife?”

“His wife won’t report him.”

“But your sister Marci knows the man beats his wife.”

“He admitted it to her.”

“And has Marci gone to the cops?”

He shook his head. “They can’t do very much.”

“Where was the drug study done?”

“At Stevens Hospital. The drug company is Allison-Bowles. Their headquarters are in Palm Springs.”

I took a sip of beer.

“I’m a little confused,” I said. “Are you implying that the experimental drug made this guy crazy? Or was he already nuts?”

“Well,” Ralph said, leaning back in his chair. “We don’t know the answer to that. Maybe he was off his rocker before, and the drug made him worse. I assume he was beating his wife before he volunteered for the study.”

He stared at me. “I can pay you three hundred dollars a day. You work on this for us. You fix it.”

“Bill must have given me a good recommendation,” I said.

“He told me you found out who killed one of the route carriers for the Globe. And when you did, the man tried to shoot you. You disarmed him and put him in the hospital.”

“Yeah. And Bill probably told you that’s when I quit the paper.”

“To do this work,” he said. “Bill told me you were can-do. Like Ollie North, but without the diary.”

“My field is nothing like Ollie North’s.”

“Whatever this field is.”

“I exist on referrals.”

He frowned. “Will you do whatever is necessary?”

I assumed he wanted a little dog and pony.

I stood up and walked to the closet, opened it and picked up an old baseball bat that was leaning against a box of books I had never unpacked.

I took the bat over to short fat Ralph, the professor who had powerful upper arms. “In that instance,” I said, “I used this 32 Adirondack to beat the shooter until he fell down and didn’t move anymore.”

He looked at the bat.

“Those are not the instincts of a reporter,” he said.

“Maybe that’s why I quit the job. I prefer more straight-line solutions to problems.”

He nodded and grinned. “You’re an outlaw.”

“Let’s go downstairs and have some lunch,” I said.

He finished the rest of his beer in one long swallow, put it down on the desk, and stood straight up, like a military man reacting to an assignment.

We settled in at Streeder’s, a bar and café. The burgers came quickly, and we drank more beer. Our table was at the back.

“The experimental drug,” Ralph said, “was called Y-103. At first they just assign numbers and letters. When they get close to FDA approval, they cook up an official name.”

He finished his beer, and began wiping the moisture off the glass with a napkin. “I’ve never hired anyone to do this kind of work before. But I’m sure most of your clients are first-timers.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, the usual route for people is through a detective agency.”

“Who was the drug company again?” I said.

“Allison-Bowles.”

“Tell me a little about yourself, Professor.”

“Forty-eight, divorced. My ex lives in Beverly Hills. She owns an art gallery. Her parents have money.”

It was interesting he would start there.

He took a napkin from the metal dispenser and wiped his forehead. “I see hookers, mostly, now. Does that bother you?”

“No,” I said.

“No moral stance on sex?”

“Age of consent. That’s all.”

“There are so many prudes these days. But sexually, they’ll take anything they can get for themselves. They spin it however they have to.”

“Whereas, you’re honest and forthright.”

“I try to be.”

“Keep in mind I’m not a therapist.”

He looked down at his plate.

“Is your sister married?” I said. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

“She’s lived alone for ten years.”

“Why didn’t she come and see me?”

“She’s scared.”

He paid the check. We walked outside to the parking lot. He stopped at a blue Infiniti.

“I should talk to Marci before I decide whether to take this on,” I said. You want me to find this guy and make him go away, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t care how.”

“Mind giving me his name?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Carroll Montgomery. He’s a psychologist.”

“A psychologist. He volunteered to be in a drug study.”

“Yeah.”

Renari handed me his card. I didn’t know professors had cards. He unlocked the door and climbed in. He turned back to me. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Go see a Dr. Kelly at Beth Israel. I’ll call him as soon as I get home. He can fill you in on the clinical trial.”

He drove away.

I wondered how many levels of bullshit he was operating on, or if there was any way of actually finding out. On a scale of one to ten, my intrigue level was at about a three. That’s average for me. Of course, he hadn’t paid me any money yet.

June 6

“There are the infamous photo files. It’s said there is enough blackmail evidence in that secret cache to indict half the membership of the US Congress. While this is, of course, a wild exaggeration…

We could dismiss such speculation as complete nonsense, if it were not for the protracted closed session of the House Intelligence Committee in the spring of 1993. The meeting erupted into a frantic battle. Representative Larry Bernstein accused the CIA counter-intelligence director of waging a private war against the legislative branch. Bernstein waved around a photograph of a sexual act taken at the moment of orgasm, featuring a former Congressman and a prostitute in a Portland, Oregon, hotel room.”

Forgotten Legends of the CIA, Arthur Meriden


power outside the matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Power Outside The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

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From The Magic Agent

From The Magic Agent

by Jon Rappoport

July 29, 2017

This is an excerpt from my book, The Magic Agent.  I present it for two reasons.  One, it concerns a breach in the space-time construct.  And two, it imparts the flavor of a future agency at work, an agency with layers of complexity that functions as a labyrinth.  Is this maze an attempt to confuse the reader?  No.  Although there are elements he may not understand, there is enough “sense” to let him through the door into a future investigation that is underway.  Here it is:

The Tribunal date was set by the court.  February 6, 2052.  No witnesses would be allowed.  The same five people would sit in a suite on the top floor of the Randall Building, in the Wilshire District of Los Angeles.  Gray and Gregory would present their evidence.  The judges would make a ruling.  In what manner they would rule was also predetermined.  They would recommend, to the Attorney General of the United States, and through him to the president, what action, if any, should be taken.  So although numbers one through three were judges, in this case they had been conscripted by the Executive Branch.  They were not precisely an investigative task force.  They certainly were not independent prosecutors.  They were considering one slab of evidence that had been gathered by two lawyers who worked for the US Department of Justice.  And whatever evidence and opinion those lawyers offered, there would be no opposing side.  The Judges would deliberate and have complete control over the outcome.

November 6, 2053

After a number of delays, the Tribunal opened session.

Gregory and Gray sat behind a large table.  Thirty feet in front of them, on a raised platform brought in for the occasion, the three judges now sat in high-backed chairs, and they were now wearing black robes.

Judge One said, “This Tribunal is in session.  The proceedings will be automatically recorded through the auspices of the US Attorney General’s office.”

Gray, in her Captain’s uniform, rose and made a brief opening statement.  She slathered sincerity on like grease.

“Your Honors, we are here to determine whether there has been a breach in the space-time continuum.  This is clearly a question of National Security.  Many explanations have been given for the degeneration of moral values across this land.  Although some of the proposed causes are undoubtedly relevant, it is our task to examine a more comprehensive possibility.  Many Americans have had troubling experiences they cannot explain.  What is the source of those experiences?  Why do citizens suddenly find themselves in a web of mysterious circumstances?  Why are there breaks in the very fabric of their lives?  Why has loyalty to the great traditions faltered?  We will present evidence that impinges on all these questions.  We will present it in great detail, so that you will be equipped to render a decision.  We hope this Tribunal will make a contribution to the re-establishing of order in America.  The fundamental order that once bound us all in a community of shared principle.  On that order we can build, anew, common security, we can extend safety, and we can again develop authentic pride, as shameful behaviors of all descriptions hopefully dissipate and float away on the tides of a forgotten era.”

Gray sat down.

Gregory was surprised she had taken “archetypal Indiana” that far.  He rose.

“Your Honors, our entire presentation will follow a simple direction.  We will offer documents to the court.  Captain Gray and I will introduce each document, and after you view it, if it please the court, we will answer any questions you put to us.”

Judge One nodded.  “Proceed, Mr. Gregory.”

“Your Honors,” Gregory said, “Document One comes in five parts.  First, you will see a conversation that took place in a residence in Georgetown, on the evening of May 27, 2007.  The old 2007.  The participants were employees of the Department of Defense.  This conversation was covertly recorded by the Central Intelligence Agency.  As we explained in the hearing, CIA historians have vetted the recording and attested to its authenticity.”

Judge Two said, “This is the conversation about Project 360.”

“Yes, Your Honor.  Then you will see the subject of Project 360, a man named Frank Palmer.  Remarkably, you will see a section of his life.  From his own point of view.  Following that, we return to a short conversation in Georgetown, because the men in that room have just witnessed the very same section of Palmer’s life.  They react to the experience.  Very strongly.  Then we will see a meeting between one of the Georgetown men and his superior at the Pentagon.  This was also recorded, covertly, by the CIA domestic tracking unit.  Finally, we will view a brief section of Palmer’s life, again from his own point of view, that takes place beyond the scope of Project 360.  It was covertly recorded by TransV Studios, using its proprietary technology.”

Judge Three said, “So somehow this man Palmer’s life was put under two separate microscopes.  360 and TransV.”

“Correct.  It’s a bit more complicated than that, but the threads will become clear to you as you watch the footage.”

“I hope so,” Judge Three said.

“I’m confused,” Judge Two said.  “We are going to watch a piece of a man’s life.  A man who was spied on.  And yet we are actually watching that piece of Palmer’s life from his own point of view.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How in the world is that possible?”

“The technologies employed made it possible.”

“I’m not aware any such technologies exist.”

“Both the Pentagon and TransV state that it does.”

“It’s the same technology?”

“Not exactly, sir.  But the same surveillance result is achieved: experiencing events from the subject’s own point of view.”

“You are basing your case on this?”

“We brought that up in the hearing, Your Honor.”

“So you did.  But it seems to me this is going around the block to prove your point.  You’re approaching the question of whether the space-time continuum has been breached, and in order to do so, you’re offering films.  It’s tenuous.”

“It’s the best way to discover people’s raw experience of time.”

“I wonder about that.”

“If we accept that these technologies are real, then we are on solid ground.”

“Wishing does not make it so, Mr. Gregory.  Both the Pentagon and TransV state their confidence in their own methods, but what else would you expect of them?”

“With all due respect, Your Honor, we settled this question of admissibility at the hearing.”

“I have had further thoughts since then.”

“All we’re asking is that you view this footage.  We are prepared to answer any questions you have afterwards.”

“Yes, Mr. Gregory, but once you get a green light from us, it’s a done deal, so to speak.  We admit, to a degree, that what you are showing us is real.”

“Not at all, sir.  We are certainly willing to take up that question.”

“But not now.”

“We would, of course, prefer to introduce the evidence and then argue its merits.”

“Well, Mr. Gregory, that’s where we are.  I want some further justification before I subject myself to your film.”

“May I ask why, Your Honor?”

“Because I find it unbelievable that a person or group can make a film about another person in the way you describe.  It’s like saying you can turn a camera on me, as I sit here, and come out with a product that shows my moment-by-moment response to, well, reality.  From my own perspective.  That sounds like some sort of invasive mental surgery.”

“I understand the dilemma, sir.  And yet I believe your experience of the film will answer your questions.  It’s rather like reading a review of a movie.  Whatever the critic says, finally the reader has to go into the theater and see it for himself.”

Gray said, “One additional point, Your Honors.  In the hearing, we presented affidavits from several persons who have experienced the TransV and 360 technologies.  They claim they were, in fact, experiencing reality from the point of view depicted by the technology.”

Judge Two said, “Yes.  They claim.  But is that what we have to go on?”

“To a degree, yes,” Gray said.  “The whole area of the subjective is fraught with problems.  I think, however, we’ve established that it is the only doorway into the study of Time and what has happened to it.”

“Well, “ Judge Two said, “if you brought us first-person written accounts from individuals, I think we’d be better off.  Instead, we’re being asked to watch something I find, by definition, to be incomprehensible.”

“Your Honor,” Gray said, “it will take you a few hours to view the first document.  Mr. Gregory and I are certainly not saying we know it is ironclad.  No one is saying that.  We are only asking the court’s indulgence for that brief period of time.”

“And if we decide it’s rubbish?”

“Mr. Gregory and I will then speak to that.”

Judge Two glanced at his colleagues.  They did not meet his eyes.

“Let me bring up another point,” he said.  “In the hearing, you stated, if I remember correctly, that you had stripped the 360 presentation of its emotional impact.  You wanted to spare us suffering.  I assume you’ve also stripped the same emotional impact from the TransV technology.  Explain that, please.”

“Yes, sir,” Gray said.  “People who viewed the full version of 360 experienced radical symptoms.  They went unconscious.  They were terrified.  Not all of them.  Some of them.”

“And you wanted to leave us able to continue to deliberate.”

Gray smiled.  “Yes, sir.”

“But then we would not have the complete experience.”

“Correct.”

“I’ll make a devil’s bargain with you,” Judge Two said.  “I’ll allow this document in as evidence if I can obtain the full effect.”

“Excuse me?”

“I believe I was clear.”

“Sorry, sir. You want to experience the full effect.  On that basis only, you would you permit us to introduce this document.”

“Very good, Captain Gray.”

“Done,” Gray said.

“Well?” Judge Two said, looking at his colleagues.

The two judges and Gregory and Gray realized that, for whatever reason, this was what Judge Two was after.  He was essentially telling his colleagues on the platform that he would make trouble the rest of the way if he couldn’t get what he wanted.

“You have the original version of Document One?” Judge Three said.

“We do,” Gray said.

Judge One sighed.  “Then show it.  Let’s get on with it.  And give us all five parts, without interruption.  We’ll ask our questions at the end.”

The lights dimmed in the room.

“Your Honors,” Gregory said, “This is DOCUMENT ONE.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gregory saw Judge Two smile.  He heard the Judge say, “A movie of someone else’s life from his own point of view.  I’ve never heard of such a thing.  And this, to adjudicate if time has been breached.  We must be crazy.  But life is short.  So let us be stimulated.”

A wild card.  But maybe every person in the room was a wild card.


power outside the matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Power Outside The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

I’m Putin, I’m the US president

I’m Putin, I’m the US president

I am Russia, hear me roar, I sit in the White House

by Jon Rappoport

July 18, 2017

Note: In the following fantasy, I’m quoting an actual NY Times article that reveals an astonishing Clinton-Putin connection via a uranium deal…

I’m anticipating an apocalyptic Congressional hearing, where the truth comes out. Perhaps Maxine Waters is talking, or Nancy Pelosi—you know, people who can no longer control what is coming out of their mouths—

“There is no doubt that Russia colluded with Trump to swing the election to him, so he’s not the real president, Hillary Clinton is the real president (brain short-circuit occurs)…on April 23, 2015, the NY Times ran a story under the headline: Cash Flowed to Clinton Foundation Amid Russian Uranium Deal. I quote the Times: ‘The sale gave the Russians control of one-fifth of all uranium production capacity in the United States’.”

“Trump is the enemy. His people talked with Russians. Russians talked with them (brain short-circuit)…I quote the Times: ‘But the untold story behind that story is one that involves not just the Russian president, but also a former American president [Bill Clinton] and a woman [Hillary Clinton] who would like to be the next one’.”

“Trump is Russian. He worked for the KGB for a decade (brain short-circuit)…I quote the Times: ‘At the heart of the tale are several men, leaders of the Canadian mining industry, who have been major donors to the charitable endeavors of former President Bill Clinton and his family. Members of that group built, financed and eventually sold off to the Russians a company that would become known as Uranium One’.”

“Trump is a cousin of Lenin and Karl Marx. He was a boyhood pal of Stalin (brain short-circuit)…I quote the Times: ‘Frank Giustra…a mining financier, has donated $31.3 million to the foundation run by former President Bill Clinton…Since [US] uranium is considered a strategic asset, with implications for national security, the deal [to sell Uranium One and US uranium to Putin] had to be approved by a committee composed of representatives from a number of United States government agencies. Among the agencies that eventually signed off was the State Department, then headed by Mr. Clinton’s wife, Hillary Rodham Clinton’.”

“Trump helped overthrow the Czar in Russia and establish the center of worldwide Communism (brain short-circuit)…I quote the Times: ‘As the Russians gradually assumed control of Uranium One in three separate transactions from 2009 to 2013, Canadian records show, a flow of cash made its way to the Clinton Foundation. Uranium One’s chairman used his family foundation to make four donations totaling $2.35 million. Those contributions were not publicly disclosed by the Clintons, despite an agreement Mrs. Clinton had struck with the Obama White House to publicly identify all donors. Other people with ties to the company made donations as well’.”

“Trump is from Jupiter. The Jupiterians have a long–standing treaty with Putin. Trump’s father is from Jupiter (brain short-circuit)…I quote from the Times: ‘And shortly after the Russians announced their intention to acquire a majority stake in Uranium One, Mr. Clinton received $500,000 for a Moscow speech from a Russian investment bank with links to the Kremlin that was promoting Uranium One stock’.”

CNN would report this apocalyptic Congressional hearing thusly: “President Trump was exposed as a KGB agent from Jupiter. According to several sources who spoke off the record because they work for federal agencies, a British former MI-6 agent has documents proving Mr. Trump’s birth on Jupiter…”

CNN commentator Chris Cuomo would follow up: “We, the media, can have access to the Trump-Jupiter documents. You, the public, are not permitted to read them. We read them and tell you what they mean. So keep your mouths shut and keep looking at the screen, keep looking at me and I will tell you what these documents mean.”


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Man goes through the reality portal

Man goes through the reality portal

by Jon Rappoport

July 12, 2017

Wilson was not the first they sent, but he got through. It was dark and murky, as he’d been told. It was somewhat grimy in the quality of the atmosphere. It gave the feeling of a tunnel, but he doubted he was bounded. It was a somewhere he had dreamed about when he was a child.

Then he was in a large room with a very high ceiling, and the lights were rather bright. He thought it was a lab. There were several men standing around. They looked educated.

“I’m Warren,” one of the men said, stepping forward. Wilson shook his hand. “I want to show you this,” Warren said, pointing to a large object in a corner that resembled, perhaps, a machine that had been burned in a fire. Its uneven exterior was blackened.

“Now, listen,” Warren said. “What you’re seeing is a representation. It’s a thing in itself, but it’s also symbolic. I can’t explain how. It would take too long. But it’s not an implant, it’s an interface of sorts. It has an attraction for minds. And more important, minds are drawn to it. It’s a problem-making device. That’s all it does. It makes problems of all kinds. Endlessly. You put this thing in your mind and it changes your attitude, shall we say. From that moment on, you work off of a template of one problem after another. It’s a problem mechanism. It has a simulacrum of life in it, but that’s an illusion. We believe that. It almost seems to be a guide. It’s guiding you into a realm of inner space, or it changes your own inner space. It really and actually is an ARCHETYPE. That’s what it is. Get that clear. It’s an archetype of a way of functioning. Archetypes are independent, you could say, but they’re also looking for minds to nourish them. And minds want to be ADDED TO. That’s the best way I can explain this. It’s not absolutely correct, but it’s close enough. This thing is an archetype of great dimensions, giant dimensions—to be more precise, it gives the appearance of being colossal. That’s what people want, something colossal. Do you see? We want to grab hold of something of size. This has a certain majesty about it. Now if this archetype is present in a billion minds, that’s going to change the whole nature of civilization. I hope you can see that. I hope you can understand that. Because that’s what we’re dealing with. Conversely, if those billion people found a way to offload this archetype, everything would change. I hope you can see that, too. This is what we’re doing here. We’re trying to figure out a way to offload this archetype. Imagine it. A human without that archetype. A human liberated from it. Are you following me? You’re not just some human drone and idiot, are you? All right, so the archetype is finite. It has boundaries. It doesn’t go on forever, but it sort of pretends it does. It pretends it’s endless. You have to imagine it as finite. You have to see it as separate from yourself. IF YOU CAN, you begin to glimpse what it would be like if you didn’t have this archetype. You can begin to see how things would be different. Very, very different. If I’m a problem to you right now, then you’re looking for a solution, an answer. And vice versa. Do you understand? Whatever is a problem to you—and most everything is—you’re looking for a solution. What else would you be looking for? But suppose you and I are not problematic IN ANY WAY to each other. Then the situation would be quite different. There would be no situation. We can’t predict what would happen then, but it would be NEW. We would be different. Everything we did or said would be new. The archetype would disintegrate for us. It would go away. You’ve come to a place where we are researching THE GREAT UNLOADING. And the first thing we need to unload is this archetype. Are you with me? Do you want to stay and help us?”

Then Wilson was back where he started, in a bunker under Ft. Quint, with his military handlers. He held up his hand. “Before you ask me any questions,” he said, “I want you to know I scored a big fat blank. I did make it to a place. It was a small forest. I was there alone. I walked for a little while and didn’t see anyone. What was I supposed to see? Do you know? It was pretty boring.”

A colonel stepped forward and said, “That’s all right, son. We’ll prep you and send you again in a few weeks. Every little bit helps. The thing is, we’ve got ourselves a very large problem and we’re using our best people to help us with it. You’re one of the best. So don’t feel bad.”

“What’s the problem?” Wilson said. “You haven’t briefed me on it.”

The colonel nodded. “That’s the thing. We don’t know what it is. We’re trying to find out.”

“How do you know you have a problem if you don’t know what it is?” Wilson said.

The colonel frowned. “That’s another problem we’re working on.”


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Maps of consciousness as a form of mind control

Maps of consciousness as a form of mind control

by Jon Rappoport

July 9, 2017

Let’s start here. There are maybe five people on the planet, if that, who genuinely want to contemplate existence and DO NOTHING ELSE.

Everyone else WANTS TO DO SOMETHING.

Since civilization dawned on Earth, various teachers and groups have been making maps about consciousness and how it works and operates. A thousand groups and a million teachers, and they all have some kind of map of consciousness that supposedly yields up crucial insight.

Let’s cut to the chase. If a person is using one of those maps and finds it helps him DO WHAT HE TRULY WANTS TO DO in his life, GOOD.

Good, assuming he isn’t kidding himself about what he really wants to do.

If he uses a map to sit around and do very little, and he isn’t one of those five people I mentioned at the top, then what good is the map? It may seem incredibly true and marvelous, but so what?

I don’t care what a person believes, and I don’t care whether he changes what he believes on Tuesday and then changes it again or Thursday. If what he believes on Tuesday helps him do what he truly wants to do—for two days—and then what he believes on Thursday helps him do what he truly wants to do until next Tuesday, splendid.

If a person has a different FINAL AND IRREFUTABLE map of consciousness for every day of the week, and they all help him do what he truly wants to do in life, on those days, good for him.

The map doesn’t matter. The inner territory of individual consciousness matters, and in that territory there is a deep desire to do something; TO CREATE SOMETHING.

Each individual is an artist of reality. He wants to invent a reality and make it fact in the world. ACTION.

There are many, many people who have maps and do very little. They’re map makers. Or they’re borrowing other people’s maps and poring over them. None of this contributes to the action of creating what they want to create. So their days are rather quiet and empty. Pointedly ask them whether they’re satisfied, and if they’re honest, they’ll say no.

The investigation of consciousness, the expression of consciousness—all the questions sages and philosophers have been asking and answering forever—are useful to individuals or they’re not. If they’re not, they’re functioning as a form of mind control.

So what? What difference does it make? It makes a difference because, for centuries, religious and spiritual leaders have been using maps to trap followers, not liberate them. Any such map or picture of reality that doesn’t seek to give the individual more freedom, more responsibility, more creative power, more independence, more rational capability seeks to give him less of these things. And in many cases, the “less” amounts to passive acceptance of a picture of reality that puts a person in a peculiar trance, where he does nothing while believing he knows everything.

He knows the picture of reality he has been handed. He never really tests that picture by finding out whether it helps him do what he truly wants to do in his life. THE PICTURE IS A STAND-IN AND A SUBSTITUTE FOR WHAT HE WOULD REALLY WANT TO DO AND CREATE IN HIS LIFE, IF HE KNEW WHAT THAT WAS.

Now we get down to it; various elites have always painted pictures of reality for everyone else. “Here, this is reality. This is all-encompassing reality. The reality and future you might independently create for yourself are irrelevant.”

There is one more kicker. If a person went out and poured all his energy into bringing about the reality and future he truly wanted, he would eventually discover, as a “side effect,” the answers to the most profound questions he has about life and existence. On his own.

Instead of the answers that come by way of the reality map makers.

THAT is the situation.

For the past 35 years, that has been the bottom line of my work, my articles and lectures and books, and especially my Matrix collections: the liberation of the individual on his own terms, not anyone else’s.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

CIA Memories: a fragment of a novel

CIA Memories: a fragment of a novel

by Jon Rappoport

July 6, 2017

This is a fragment of a work-in-progress, a novel titled CIA Memories. I’ve been writing it, on and off, for almost 10 years now. This particular piece involves the creation of an archetype. Here it is:

Waverly. Some people at the Agency thought of him as a go-to guy, a problem solver. The trouble was he could be hard to find. Like a mother a lost child was looking for in a crowded mall. You never knew when he would show up. Or from where.

A few Agency folks thought of him as a twin. When he came around, they said he looked just like them. Hilarious.

My theory and understanding of Waverly is that he is a construct, a very complex one, who arose from numerous meetings and brainstorming sessions and conferences and secret chats.

The obsession to present problems and solve them at the Agency brought Waverly into being, unconsciously, as the problem solver. THEY CREATED HIM.

You could say he was a ghost or a sub-type, but when he walked into your office and sat down across from you and smiled, you were there with him. You didn’t want to be anywhere else. If you were the Night, he was the Day. And vice versa. He was what you didn’t have.

Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? But Waverly is that creature.

I’ve done my own research on this character, and I’ve come to even more extensive conclusions. Waverly is you, the reader. That’s right. You, who are reading this, were brought into being by the CIA. That’s a hard one to accept. I know. You’re Waverly, I’m Waverly, we’re all Waverly. We’re all virtual creatures created by the CIA.

And if we win our war against the Agency, what happens to Waverly? What happens to us? Do we disappear?

I don’t think so. Even though we started out as virtual, we’re not virtual anymore. We’ve grown into our own independent creatures, with will, with freedom, with intelligence, with imagination. We’re becoming more powerful, day by day.

As we become more powerful, the CIA becomes weaker. We are the solution the CIA has been looking for. The grand solution. But when that solution takes over, the problem goes away. The CIA is the problem and the problem generating machine. A SOLUTION DISPENSES WITH THE PROBLEM.

Once upon a time, there was a problem: how could humans get off the Earth? When airplanes were finally invented, the problem went away. It was no longer something people thought about.

On some level, the CIA is aware of the situation. On some level, they know they could go away. So they keep generating problems that need answers, any answers. It doesn’t matter how good or how crazy the solutions are. They have to keep that machine operating. They have to keep finding problems that need resolutions.

We, on the other hand, can create situations that get out ahead of the problems…

The CIA feeds intelligence to key groups and persons inside the government and in corporations. In other words, the Agency feeds problem after problem to the high echelons of control. The CIA is that type of consciousness. It is bent. It’s always been bent. It attracts people who are obsessed with dangerous problems and fantasies. Thus, Waverly came into being. He was a collective, and all of us were sprung from that collective…but now the trend has reversed. We have been separating. Each one of us.

Those who are interested in genuine definitions of sanity and insanity would do well to think about this.


power outside the matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Power Outside The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Your power is coming

Your power is coming

by Jon Rappoport

July 1, 2017

I could ease into this by saying your power stems from the ability to imagine new solutions to problems—and that’s true—but I want to start somewhere else right now.

Your power stems from the ability to conceive of a future that has no end.

And when you do this, of course you’re in that future, because try as you might, you don’t go away into nothing. You don’t end. That may come as a shock, or you may already know this.

ENDLESS is a fantastic thing to contemplate, especially when you apply it to WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING IN LIFE THAT YOU REALLY WANT TO DO.

For example, a writer writes. He writes endlessly. He spins dreams and stories and ideas and…much more than that. He turns reality upside down and inside out and then he comes back to reality and analyzes it down to its core and then the core below that and the core below that…and then he makes up another reality….

And beyond THAT, he writes. Who knows what he’s going to write tomorrow or a year from now or ten thousand years from now? Who know what forms he’s going to invent and un-invent and connect? That’s the fascination. And who knows who’s going to read what he writes….and what that means…

A writer is hanging on thunder and taking up residence in lightning and dispersing silver rain down on the earth in a future age and a past age, he crossing time, he’s waking up to a day in another universe, he’s always himself and he’s a million other things, he’s writing for himself and for nobody and everybody and there is no way to describe exactly who he is writing for…

There is always more to write, so the writer is anchored in THAT and he’s also out on the open sea. Always more, endlessly. Always more to do. If he gets tired of writing in one language he can write in another.

ENDLESS is a concept that is not embraced by society, and that is a good thing. The writer never tried to belong. He never tried to fit himself into a shelf in a room in a house. He is the house. He’s many houses.

Let’s look at ENDLESS from another angle. A person is looking at a painting. He’s sitting there looking at a painting he doesn’t understand. So what does he do? He’s going to be looking at that painting endlessly. So he goes through the many, many changes he goes through to interpret reality, to interpret reality in general. He sees things this way and that way and another way and another way…and eventually he exhausts all the ways he looks at reality, all the provincial ways, and finally he’s out in the open and he’s seeing in a way he never saw before…and THIS is when the exploration really begins…he has shed all the conventional ways of interpreting reality….he’s past that now…he’s past his own culture…he’s past the formal accepted ways of seeing…this is called magic. This is when magic begins to take hold and shake him like a tree. This is when he hears the bell ring and he wakes up. This is not a drug. This is not some teacher walking in the door and spouting great learning from ancient times. This is not a system. This is not believing in something. This is his own experience. I KEEP SAYING THIS AND I’LL KEEP SAYING IT, THE MAGIC COMES WHEN YOU MAKE YOUR OWN INTERPRETATIONS OF YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE. But it doesn’t come right away. It doesn’t come after five minutes. I know some great teachers who have much wisdom and who can’t move past the gate because they think they already know everything they’re going to know, and if they got hold of this thing called ENDLESS they would open the gate and walk through and then they would know all there is to know AGAIN and if they kept walking they would find something brand new and once again they would know everything there is to know and so on and so forth until they would realize…what? It’s hard to say. They would realize that they’re bigger than they thought they were and then they would think about that and see they’re both experiencing and inventing reality and they’re in the map of magic, they’re in the map and outside the map and they’re also making up the map. POWER. And then they would keep on going…


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.