Join Date: Jan 2007
Location: North Africa.
Ok, here's chapter 3.
They pull our strings, make our food, sell us clothes, build our houses, make our chemicals, poison our world wage our wars, all in our name. They formulate chemical cocktails which they give to children to make them loopy and hyperactive, they devise violent entertainments of all kinds to reduce us to the level of blood lovers brooding on shotgun wounds and flamethrowers, they edit and write our books, newspaper and movies, taking care to remove the truth and substitute it for lies. One thing’s for sure they’re not writing this one.
It’s so hard to escape their clutches and one never knows when one’s working for them. Chances are whatever you’re doing you’re working for them.
Make no mistake, this is ‘their’ world. Everything in it is there because they’ve put it there. They brew our beer that poisons our streets decorating them with vomit and violence while telling us that we’re not allowed to smoke marijuana, they tease us with visions of semi naked women, driving our benign desires to an acrid frenzy, sexualising everything in the whole world to make a buck, they give life and they take it away.
They have instituted a fake twilight life where most of us live through our TV’s in a virtual fantasy. They make us work, they make us buy, we work, buy, on and on until we one day die. We do it all at their bidding, no wonder they act like God, albeit the old testament version of God, when they have so many souls caught in their thrall dancing to their tunes.
It was several years later from the time of my introduction to the awareness of Masonic techniques and their use in training programmes of various kinds, and their involvement in the world of TEFL teaching, that I myself was finally made a formal offer to join them, albeit an insinuating and suggestive offer. It was a job interview to a far eastern country for a teaching job.
It is said that the secret services (which I later found to be entwined with masonry when I arrived in Japan) recruit not with a word but with a look. The look is a peering penetrating stare as if they are trying to look inside you, I received the stare and just smiled back, this is it seemed was the correct response as I was later told I had got the job. At the end of the interview I was also told that when I return back to the UK in the summer I could visit my friends, but by then I’ll have ‘something better than friends.’ It was clear to me then that I was being recruited not just for as job but also to enter freemasonry.
The first thing I considered about my ‘mentor’ when I arrived in Japan, was that he seemed somehow ill. Like terminally ill. He was a thin grey man who never seemed to sleep. I would watch him teach English to children and though he bounded about with seeming energy and enthusiasm, however his smile never seemed to reach his eyes , he seemed to force the ‘happy’ expression onto his face and this made me wonder. Was he a well man? What was the burden he was shouldering to make him have to fake his way through life?
Things started off strange and grew inevitably to stranger. The strange recruitment system of the Illuminati freemasons meant that I was never solicited directly to join the freemasons, just hints and allusions in a constant stream. For example the man would roll up the trouser on his left leg frequently for no apparent reason, he would ask me ‘if I knew who I was?’ and he would have these strange imaginary phonecalls where he would be in the next room talking to someone, rather strangely, about me.
He would never explicitly talk about me but he would allude to things he must have somehow found out about me, but then decontextualise them so it would appear random and more startling, in these phone calls he would loudly refer to himself as Mr Mason. The odd thing about these Masonic people who have reached a certain level of initiation is that they seem able somehow to read minds or at least use some very very accurate system based on uncanny synchronicity.
For example in my mind I would wonder ‘what did he just say?’ and strangely in the next room he would repeat it. I found that if he said something which I didn’t catch he would repeat himself, in his imaginary conversation next door. It was an unusual coincidence to say the least. This was the first time I noticed this and on subsequent occasions have observed that some people are very definitely capable of reading minds.
The most unusual of these confirmations came in Egypt when I met a Nile delta farmer who provided tomatoes and various salad vegetables to Sainsbury’s supermarket. He seemed very well off and wore a suit, to say he was a farmer is probably over-stretching his role in the whole affair of growing vegetables but the fact is he was the smooth faced affluent fluent English speaker who made all the deals and got all the money.
He owned the farm and since he said he was providing for Sainsbury’s it must have been rather a large farm. Without remembering the specifics about the particular conversation I came to the startling discovery as we chatted that he always seemed to say exactly what I was thinking, it was unusual because our backgrounds had been vastly different, different countries and cultures yet somehow he would say what was in my mind and a second later he would gush it out, he would actually say what I was thinking. Almost like a party trick or something.
I felt peculiar as is sometimes the case during intense periods of metaphysical flux so I did what I always did in these situations, entered a Zen state, I advise everybody in the world to learn to acquire the Zen state, it instantly provides a safe ledge over the maelstrom of a turbulent reality, when the world itself dissolves into madness and chaos and you feel the tendrils grasping towards you, hack them off with pure silence peace and stillness.
Nothing matters apart from the stillness silence and the peace of the primeval void. It’s the voice of nature. Harmonious in its perfection.
When I stilled my thoughts and literally had nothing going on inside my head he suddenly fell quiet and shrugged. Until this point he had been carrying on machine gun fire of conversation lifted directly from my thoughts, suddenly he was still. He kind of looked at me as if beaten and shrugged. He said nothing more and left shortly after. Sounds weird, make of it what you will, I just want to let you that there are things, people and situations which are much weirder than most of us are used to.
Anyway, back to Tokyo. Things came to a head when a lady came in, and, under the cover of being a prospective new student, questioned me quite seriously about whether I wanted to join the secret services and become a spy.
All the while I had this nagging insecurity playing in the back of my mind like a computer subroutine. I had reached a point in my life; for so long it seemed I had been moving hither and thither frantically crossing continents and breaching frontiers, seeing new sights with tired eyes, receiving hospitality and giving it in good measure, before it occurred to me that despite my travelling and my collection of sights and souvenirs, I wasn’t actually going anywhere. In a world where money can make a woman sleep with a man she doesn’t even know, or a man to cheat his own brother over their mother’s will, I discerned that I was ill equipped to actually keep mind and body together, in short I was skint and unknown, and it bothered me. I used to get these life panics from time time.
The last time it happened to me I had just bought a single ticket from Madrid to Paris, and had paid a premium for the dubious pleasure of watching Pocahontas on the video screen just above my head. I had quite a job in Spain because it was a slave factory and I’d wound up skint and worried about the fact that I was skint again. Sooner or later it seemed to me, I would have to start taking responsibility for my life, I wasn’t young anymore, I couldn’t live a carefree existence counting on the rewards of youth, and the spectre of an infirm and impoverished old age loomed, but I was more haunted by the idea that I might in some way fail life.
That the fruits and pleasures of life might be denied me, that I might be one of the losers buried in the seething underclass, my education and turn of mind denying me the simple folk pleasures such as football on a Saturday afternoon, soaps and walking the dog, this life wasn’t for me, I reached above my station and tasted fine wines, foreign travel, hell I spoke perfect French for God’s sake! I was a ponce! A clever ponce. But one without a bean. My fingers reached blindly onto high shelves were I took down books which contained the knowledge I was seeking but the more knowledge I accumulated the further away the real world of money and mortgages seemed until it was gone from my horizon. There’s something about knowing too much, learning too much, like the Pulp song Misshapes which I always loved:
“We weren’t supposed to be, we learned too much at school now we can’t help but see that the future that you’ve got mapped out is nothing much to shout about.”
I should say that life failed me, the dreams of childhood had stayed with me through my early twenties like buoyant balloons full of hot air, some of them had been bobbing along with me and now looked distinctly tired and deflated, such as Air Pilot! What the hell was that doing there? A relic from a fourteen year old’s Top Gun fantasy. Oddly enough there was one fantasy left, one which remained intact and still existed within the realms of feasibility: secret agent. Since being a child I had harboured a wish to be James Bond 007, to enjoy casual international travel, to lurk under and over the radar of everyday life, to be as hero, to be strong, to be....special.
Ok, it all seems pretty naive looking back, but while in Japan I was offered the post I had always dreamed of, or at least a ‘way in’. Trouble is the whole James Bond fantasy took a tumble when I actually met the brave new generation of secret agents. It seemed that the main duty of a ‘spy’ in Tokyo was not to save the world and cause heroic explosions, but instead to sit at tables in ex pats pubs and bars with other ex pats, and watch what they’re doing.
Quite what they were looking for I do not know but there is something unmistakably craven and contaminated about someone who literally, spies on other people. Perhaps if the people they were spying on were dangerous or a threat to world peace but they weren’t, the spies just spied for the hell of it. They were spying on nothing but people like you and me hanging out in bars. But they weren’t even that good at it because you could tell they were watching you and half of you wanted to go up to them and say ‘the fuck you looking at pal?’ but the rest of you couldn’t be bothered. Then I expect they went back and reported it all. Just sitting, watching, while pretending not to.
I don’t know about you but when I go to a pub I like to enjoy myself, these guys didn’t seem to be allowed.
They seemed grave, unhappy, and uncomfortable, there really is no word however to describe the feeling one gets from meeting a spy, a kind of pity mingled with contempt. Pity at their condition, contempt that they willingly signed themselves up for it. I expect they too wanted to be just like James Bond one day.
Spies and operative come in all shapes sizes and colours. The most intriguing but no less pitiably lost group of soul slaves concern the Filipino child minders, or at least those operatives who work under the cover of being child minders. I shared a house in a quiet area of Tokyo called Hiro, I lived just around the corner from the Solavakian embassy in a three storied house. I don’t recall the number of the house but strangely the Japanese landlord seemed to think it was ‘33’, it wasn’t however, it was 27 or something more banal, but when people mention the number 33 it should alert you that you may be dealing with masons. We went into the house and met one of the Filipino tenants, the room was on the third floor and was reached by a door on the second floor and a private staircase, the door leading up was next to the bathroom and as the landlord unlocked the door the Filipino lady said she didn’t know the room was there. Odd I thought, it seemed clear enough that there was a door, fairly close to the bathroom door, the landlord made something of this and said, as he unlocked the door, that it was ‘a secret room’.
Often you find masons trying to evoke mystery and mysticism at the slightest and most tenuous opportunity. From the very first meeting with these people I thought they were daft, and despite all of the extraordinary and unsuspected abilities of these Filippino women with their strong national tradition of witchcraft and magic, I left the house five months later with my initial first impression intact. I maintain to this day that essentially the masons are stupid. They simply do not have the awareness to see what a paltry and embarrassing life they live.
Admittedly, some of them are downright dangerous and evil, as we shall see later, but it is necessary that in order to be endangered by masons, one must first be subservient and cowed by them, a trick I have never learned as it not the dog that walks the man but it is the man who walks the dog, and these masons, by surrendering their free will to the orders of their hierarchy have lost their human birthright as sovereign beings, they become something else, something slightly lower on the evolutionary scale of things.
And so unwittingly I had stumbled upon a strange kind of Masonic Big Brother house. I don’t really know how else to describe it, basically it seems that after leaving the pale bone demon at Christmas time and refusing to join the secret services, I had hoped to move out and move on but it seemed that his ‘people’ were already one step ahead of me and I was back under their microscope. There was a strange cast of characters at this house.
There was Miss Snot, an Irish girl, who was always blowing her nose and creeping about outside my door having imaginary conversations with people about me. I’ve noticed this is a tactic masons like to use, this way they have plausible deniability if you take them to task, they can just turn on you and say ‘are you mentally ill or something, I’m talking to my friend’ because they never said anything directly to me I decided not to say anything directly to them either. I think they got increasingly desperate as they realised that I was neither particularly interested in joining them or even talking to them.
At one point the as I came down from my room I noticed the girl was all dressed in white, white skirt white jumper, she said ‘hold on a minute’ disappeared for a little less than a minute and returned all dressed in black. I knew what they were getting at, like the old Jackson song ‘It don’t matter if you’re black or white’.
I really didn’t see the point of these silly theatrics. Had she suddenly completely changed her clothes to tell me something or was it symbolic or were they merely trying to unbalance my sense of order and sanity? I suspect all of the above are true. The girl had a relatively minor role to play compared to the Filipino’s involvement in my ‘training’.
In the free Tokyo ex pat newspapers and magazines one often finds advertisements and notices which raise many questions in themselves. If you go there now and thumb through the classifieds and jobs sections, the chances are you will find offers of employment to Filipino women. One such advert I found said something along the lines of :”wanted, psychically gifted Filipinos for ethical work in Tokyo area...” This raises two main questions immediately. Firstly, are there various agencies who know that psychic powers exist and they can use them for some purpose. Secondly if it is necessary for them to make the distinction that the work offered is ‘ethical’ then what else is going on out there behind the scenes involving ‘psychically gifted Filipinos’ which is not ethical?
It seems that I was living with just such a sample, as to whether they were ‘ethical’ or not, I have my doubts. Their cooking certainly was not. They seemed mostly to eat fish head soup and it smelt extremely bad: more like a vile spell being brewed in a cauldron than anything anyone would actually eat. But as to what these Filipino witches actually did in the house during the hours of darkness I am almost reluctant to mention it.
Metaphysical experiences of the kind the masons are involved in are so far removed from most people’s everyday reality as to be the best possible means of defence against people escaping from their clutches and trying to tell other people what it’s like. A picture soon emerges of seeming nonsense, science fiction mixed with fantasy and mental illness.
Anyone who can actually accept and itemise the process of training and eventual involvement in Illuminated freemasonry and, like me for example, manages to write it down, is finally held to ransom by the incredulity of the reader.
It is up to you dear reader to try to enlargen your sense of reality and what is really possible, in order to accept the veracity of what I am saying. Some people may have even experienced something similar, but have since put it out of their minds for lack of being able to explain what happened to them. There may exist whole episodes of Masonic chicanery, lost in a grey haze at the very back of people’s minds. An unexplainable and uncomfortable mystery which lies there like a pearl growing inside an oyster.
What these witches seemed able to do, and indeed a south African Shaman friend of mine later confirmed this to me that it was something she could also do, was to be able to project their consciousness into somebody else’s mind. Because this kind of thing is seldom mentioned on the 6 o’clock news or in Eastenders, people have no awareness of it so it doesn’t exist. But there has always been throughout culture and society, a suspicion, and the odd documented cases, that something truly extraordinary lies sleeping just beneath the surface of our trivial and materialistic society.
As a child it was Arthur C Clarke’s World of Strange of Powers on TV which allowed me a glimpse of this infinitely more interesting set of possibilities than Sunday roasts and the morning papers. The thing is what we call being alive and conscious is the same thing for everyone. Consciousness is not billions of separate blobs but it is one unified field. Our experience of life and our awareness is within this field. Therefore it only requires the right techniques rituals and initiations for the person’s awareness to remove from a isolated point of view, into seeing the bigger picture and being aware that distance, separateness and individuality, is a kind of illusion or false perspective. In the true perspective we are all one consciousness.
The Filipino witches knew this and with this awareness they acted upon my own mind and consciousness at night in a rather unsettling and unpleasant manner. I realise that there are very few accounts of this process and many of my esteemed readers may be coming to the conclusion that perhaps too much foreign sunshine has baked my brain but I would like to offer the following intriguing volume as corroboration for my experiences. The book is called The Chasm of Fire by Irene Tweedie and documents a woman’s journey to India to study under a Sufi shaman. In the account she details the occurrence of her mentor actually entering her mind at night time and projecting all sorts of unsettling and unpleasant images in her mind. Most of the images are of a sexual nature and Tweedie fails to understand the process and why her mentor is doing such a thing to her. Who knows?
Eventually she comes close to a nervous break down and becomes very lonely and depressed to such an extent that she abandons the training. It’s a strange book, and leaves one with the lingering impression that these so called ‘wise men’ are actually expert torturers of the human psyche.
Suffice it to say I was subjected to similarly unpleasant visions and nightmares for many nights and could actually see the Filipino women in my mind’s eye. They also spoke and shrieked along with the subconscious journey I was being taken on, and the words I actually heard them say coincided with what I was experiencing in my mind. This was all quite a surprise and was fairly stressful. Fortunately for my sanity I had learned some techniques of psychic self defence. The first was to fire arrows at the witches in my mind’s eye and it seemed to have an effect as they would cease their shrieking and mind tricks. However the second method was more satisfactory as it was non aggressive and more ‘ethical’. I had taught myself zen meditation and could close down my mind and cease all mental activity at any time. Very useful if you are starting to lose control of what’s happening in your mind.
There are many people who attribute disordered thoughts or strange discarnate voices speaking to them, as a technological method of attack, but my awareness is that all of these happen as a result of the Masonic and wiccan techniques of hacking consciousness which they have perfected over thousands of years and kept secret mainly by flooding the world with materialism in order to direct most people’s awareness onto a red herring.
From what I have observed of the higher realms of Masonry there is much that is very sinister indeed. The mysteries of initiatic science, the birthright which is kept from the profane, is little short of black magic and is used (again from what I have observed) to create nothing short of a mind controlled international army which at any time can be mobilised to perform any task without consultation of individual conscience and under strict, military style orders.
What better way to control someone’s mind than by actually being there? These people can literally be present in your mind, as you go about your business. This is dark side to the new age goal of ‘oneness’. It all sounds very cosy but oneness with what? What they mean is ‘oneness’ with the hierarchy, every person has their place and position and their psychic orders. You can imagine how complete the slavery must be when one can’t leave the room where the master is giving orders, or stick your fingers in your ears because the master is inside of you forever.
I soon realised that if these people could get inside my head then it would be the death of freedom, individuality, privacy, autonomy, and all the things that we treasure and enjoy. So I made my mind up and flew out of there and came back to the UK. They were getting increasingly desperate though in the last few weeks before I decided to leave and at one point the whole group gathered outside my door and spoke of ‘initiation’, I don’t remember the exact gist of what they said because whenever they would attempt these tiresome theatrics I would turn up my music or stick my fingers in my ears. The secret agent dreams and the riches of success and wealth would just have to go on hold. I would rather be poor and free than a rich slave. Any day.
In retrospect I am extremely glad I never joined the masons, not only to hang on to my individuality, but that, with research, I have uncovered truth behind the disturbing rumours about their variously unpleasant activities. For example the following story appeared on the ICNNorth Wales news website, it has since been removed.
Former Birmingham police officer Raymond Ketland, 66, of Nant y Coed, Glan Conwy, became involved with the girl after noticing sexual activity on Llanddulas beach.
He admitted two charges of sexual activity with a minor, taking indecent photographs of a child and facilitating a child sex offence, and was jailed for two and a half years.
Ketland had become involved partly through a fellow Mason.
Andrew Thomas, prosecuting, said: "He recognised one of them as a fellow member of his Masonic Lodge, who walked up to him and asked 'Do you want to have a bit of fun?' He pointed out a girl who was with them."
Mr Thomas later confirmed Ket-land had refused to divulge the identity of his fellow Mason to investigating officers.
Catholic Bishop Gerard Crane, called as a character witness by Ketland's defence, said his friend was "totally distraught" at what had happened.
Here we have substance to the rumour that the masons run child abuse rings. The reason for their doing so, apart from them being evil and the stuff of the devil himself, is for control. If they can implicate somebody in child abuse and paedophilia, they will have ammunition with which to blackmail that person for the rest of their lives. If this person is powerful or in a position of authority, it provides perfect leverage for the Masonic organisation to operate on society. They used to blackmail homosexuals in a similar manner before it was decriminalised, and the secrets services often try to compromise foreign agents into working for them, in a similar manner, and vice versa. For these people the ends justify the means, and despite them using the most evil and disgusting methods conceivable, for them, it is a means to an end. This proves that all their high talk of morality is so much cobblers designed to lure in naive and fresh faced idealists. Nothing could be further from the truth, the tree must be judged by its fruit and as we shall see, the harvest is a rotten one.
Mannheim soldier’s death has element of Masonic mystery
21 Year Old GI Freemason Killed in Masonic Mystery
GI found dead hours after scheduled secretive rite
Stars and Stripes, European edition
By Steve Mraz
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Courtesy of the Wilder familySpc. Donald Anthony Wilder, 21, was found dead Jan. 8 at Spinelli Barracks in Mannheim, Germany. Questions loom involving the details of Spc. Donald Anthony’s death. An autopsy was inconclusive.
The Masons are a secret society that dubs itself the world’s oldest and largest fraternity. Masons rise in rank by performing degree-work.
MANNHEIM, Germany — Weeks before Spc. Donald Anthony Wilder was found dead in a barracks shower, his parents say, he told them he knew he was going to be beaten.
On Jan. 7, Wilder, 21, was set to become a third-degree Mason with the Prince Hall Masons in Mannheim. A radio communication security controller repairman with the 512th Maintenance Company, Wilder had become active with the Prince Hall Masons in the fall of 2005.
In order to become a third-degree Mason, Wilder knew he would have to endure being beaten on his buttocks with a paddle by fellow Masons.
His plan was to get so drunk for the Jan. 7 ceremony that he wouldn’t feel the pain of the beatings, according to a friend, Spc. Tony d’Ercole. His mother, Diane Wilder, said her son told her that if he got so drunk that he passed out, his fellow Masons would take his blows.
On Jan. 8, just hours after the evening ceremony that took place inside Mannheim American High School at Benjamin Franklin Village, Wilder was found dead in a friend’s shower in the barracks at Spinelli Barracks in Mannheim.
An autopsy performed last month at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center was inconclusive, pending further studies, which are due back next week. Marie Shaw, a Landstuhl spokeswoman, said preliminary findings show Wilder experienced a “sudden, unexpected death.”
He told them about the paddlings he took when he became a first- and second-degree mason last fall: how he would lie in his bed at Spinelli Barracks in Mannheim, icing his body after the paddlings, his mother said.
“He talked about the beatings a lot … and he was very afraid of them,” Diane Wilder said from her home in Seal Rock, Ore. “Prior to the … ceremony, he was throwing up because he was so nervous, that’s what we were told.”
He said the beatings were to show the other Masons just how badly you want to be a member.
“ ‘If you can’t put up with a little discomfort for a little while in order to do some good for people, you don’t want it that much,’ he told us,” she said.
On Christmas, Diane Wilder talked to her son twice. During those conversations, she says, Donald Wilder expressed concern about the paddlings he knew awaited him.
“His plan was to get so drunk that he wouldn’t have to take all the beatings,” Diane Wilder said.
“There was something about it, obviously, we didn’t like,” Diane Wilder said. “It made us nervous. It just didn’t seem right.”
The week before his death, the Wilders talked to their son every other day. On Jan. 5 — three days before he died — Wilder promised his mother he would not go through with the third-degree ceremony, she said.
Donald Wilder would not stay true to his word.
“I think he just decided not to tell us because we disapproved,” Diane Wilder said.
Also on Jan. 5, Wilder went to Murphy’s Law Irish Pub in Mannheim. He met friends that evening, including Maria Testai, a German acquaintance, and d’Ercole, a soldier in Wilder’s unit who served with him in Iraq.
The two soldiers talked for about an hour at the bar, d’Ercole said, and Wilder seemed relaxed. Testai said Wilder told her that he would like to go to a movie with her during the coming weekend.
“I have another friend married to an American,” Testai said. “She told me about the Masons. She told me that they would beat up the people and drink a lot when they have parties. I didn’t like it so I didn’t ask for more.
“He sounded, I don’t know, not really nervous,” Testai said. “He talked a lot. I don’t know if excited is the right word.”
The initiation ceremony took place inside Mannheim American High School. The group initially requested to use the facility on Jan. 6. Because of school rehearsals, the high school was not available, said Dennis Bohannon, public affairs officer for Department of Defense Dependents Schools-Europe.
A key to the school was checked out to the Masons on Jan. 5. The group used the key to enter the facility without authorization on Jan. 7, Bohannon said.
When asked how school officials knew that the Masons were in the facility on Jan. 7, Bohannon said, “someone in the school has personal knowledge.”
Sometime during the morning of Jan. 8, Wilder was found lying unconscious and unresponsive in the shower of a friend’s room at Spinelli Barracks, said Diane Wilder. Medical professionals, military police and the German police were called to the scene.
Shortly after noon, Spc. Donald Anthony Wilder, a 21-year-old veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom, was pronounced dead.
To date, no charges have been preferred against anyone in relation to Wilder’s death. Until further autopsy studies are complete, it is unknown whether Wilder died of alcohol poisoning or something else.
Officially, the command that Wilder’s unit comes under is working with the Army’s Criminal Investigation Command, known as CID, to find out what happened.
“We have multiple, ongoing investigations to ensure that the facts are known and everything that can be done to prevent this from happening to other soldiers,” said Maj. Allen Hing, 21st Theater Support Command public affairs officer.
To protect the integrity of its investigation, CID is not releasing details of the investigation at this time, said Christopher Grey, CID spokesman.
Soldiers are not prohibited from joining such groups as the Masons. D’Ercole estimated about six or seven soldiers in his roughly 250-man unit are Masons.
The incident involving the death of a 21 year old in Mannheim Germany, gets echoed periodically and repeats itself, there is usually a Masonic connection. In the UK, there have been numerous reports in the media of young men dying in similar circumstances, such as the four young soldiers shot dead at Deepcut Barracks in Surrey, the army board brought no charges, is it a coincidence that they are all masons? Here’s another example of unaccountable and sudden deaths while deep within mason territory:
Freemason Shot Dead in a Masonic Ritual
A Freemason was accidentally shot dead in a Masonic ritual in a Lodge in New York state, in March 2004:
Inductee Shot Dead at Long Island Masonic Lodge Rite
A secretive initiation ceremony in the basement of a Long Island Masonic lodge went "tragically wrong" when a member mistakenly pulled out a loaded weapon and fatally shot an inductee in the face, police said Tuesday.
William James, 47, of Medford, N.Y., was pronounced dead at the scene of Monday night’s shooting inside the Southside Masonic Lodge, said Suffolk County Detective Lt. Jack Fitzpatrick.
... Fitzpatrick said the ceremony was designed to create "a state of anxiety" for the inductees. Police also found a guillotine, rat traps, and a wooden board that Fitzpatrick surmised was used in some type of "walking the plank" routine in the basement of the one-story building.
...While officials of the lodge denied that guns play a role in ceremonies, Fitzpatrick said members told police the rite involving a gun with blanks goes back at least 70 years.
Or the truly chilling story of Sarah Paine who was snatched from a street in West Sussex on July 1, 2000. Her body was found 16 days later, ten miles away. A paedophile Roy Whiting was convicted of her abduction and murder, and sentenced to life in prison.
Open and shut? Not quite. Because there's this painting Sarah left behind, displayed in her classroom, which was reproduced in the Sun newspaper four days after her disappearance: a man standing upon a 13-square checkered floor, between columns bearing Sarah's name. He wears what appears to be an apron of 33 studs, and holds an object in his left hand. His right sleeve is also missing. All suggestive of a Masonic ritual.
Last edited by edelweiss pirate; 03-04-2010 at 04:29 PM.