Epigraph.
I'm not really talking about fairy tales. Even as a child, I didn't really like Star Wars. And "Morozko".
I love all sorts of conspiracies, the world behind the scenes, the power of money and planetary government, behind banking structures.
But sometimes, you come across something that you can't believe your eyes.
Many do so in order not to shake the stable picture of the logical and material world. They, even when they come face to face with the incomprehensible, reassure themselves with explanations. All sorts of substitutions are used, from playing of shadows, to accusing witnesses of incompetence or rigging. If all this is not enough, then their brain simply crosses it out of consciousness. Forgot - so it was not.
It's like with childhood psychological trauma. Seeing that memories are destabilizing the mental state, the brain decides to turn off the stimulus. Ask any psychologist. Sometimes it takes months to get a person to remember an event and prove that it was not a dream. True, then it takes years for a person to learn to live with it.
I will not tell the whole reptilian theory now. She, damn it, is wider than "War and Peace", Tolstoy would have been envious and out of grief forced his wife to rewrite all her works, by hand four more times.
In a nutshell, for those who are not in the know:
Promotional video:
The Reptilians were honest as they said and did - they flew away.
Here the descendants are waiting, getting together and arranging mass in anticipation of the imminent return of the geologists. There are a lot of monkeys. It is no longer possible to manage them openly, as God's anointed ones. Therefore, they huddled together by interests and by the amount of correct blood. No, not Jewish - reptilian.
We have to disguise ourselves so as not to let go of the power. Coming up with democracies, elections, religious movements, free markets and other smokescreens.
Freemasons, Illuminati, Club of Rome, Bilderberg, Rothschilds, Rockefellers, Windsors, Habsburgs, and they are countless, and their name is legion.
Behind all this are 13 main families and a couple of hundred close ones. All secret knowledge is in their hands. All magical symbols, all rituals of power and 9 hearts transplanted to Rockefeller. They rule all religions, patriarchs, Dalai Lamas and popes. The Vatican, in general, is their alma mater. (Daddy is the main serpent).
Each time, reading such a hand shade to the phone to call the author's doctor. There is clearly intoxication of the brain. Maybe from a bust of hallucinogens, maybe from congenital weakness of mental nerons. Well, what kind of reptilians, really?
And that's when you burst your way over human fantasy and stupidity. After decomposition, neuroses and complexes, from which such nonsense arise in the inflamed brains of schizophrenic losers, you see this …
Vatican. Hall of receptions named after Paul VI.
You look at the picture. You are silent for a couple of minutes, then you pull yourself together and think, “Yes, okay! What kind of joke? Focused with their telephoto focus. Do you think people will behave?"
And you, right away, BOOM !, from several sides. BOOM, BOOM!
On the left is the Pope's Swiss guard. On the right, the view is closer to the scene.
And then you already understand that it's not about focus and not even Photoshop. You still cheer yourself up with the phrases “It can't be. These are not teeth over there on the stage, but just columns. And stained glass windows on the left, never eyes!"
And right in the head, pictures jump.
And they tell you; "Want more?". You nod silently.
Outside view.
It is vague to you, it reminds you of something, but you are afraid to admit to yourself. Almost with your hands you drive away the obsessive images and all, watched, Discovery Channel programs. But your strength is running out and now you give up.
It's a damn snake head. Blunt, snake head. Blunt because it is not pointed.
The whole night is spent in terrible nightmares, you wake up in sweat and run to read the encyclopedia.
Snakes have two main types of structure of the muzzle-head (as by the way, and crocodiles, so Gena the crocodile, he is an alligator). The form used by the Vatican belongs to venomous snakes.
In the morning, the first thing you do is wake up and look under the bed to see if a tangle of vipers hiss there, then you run to your computer and start frantically looking for information. In theory, you should have done it yesterday, but you lost consciousness from fear and only the help of friends helped you to get to bed.
You frantically open the Vatican website and look for the truth, in the hope that yesterday you were tricked. There is, of course, no hint of a snake. You calm down and realize that you just went over everything yesterday and took everything too emotionally. Your intellect helps explain the situation to your body.
The phenomenon is called - Pareidolia, rather it is even a syndrome. It is natural for a person to look for his own kind, so his brain is looking for all sorts of correspondences in the clouds that look like people, then animals, in the bends of rocks or even in drawings on wallpaper.
When you are armed with the sword of science, not a single obscurantism will stay in a healthy head for a long time, you think … and suddenly your gaze stops at the photographs of the construction of the “snake hall”.
The construction was completed in 1971. Then on the throne sat Pope Paul the Sixth, after whom the hall was later named. Dad was probably gorgeous. He especially loved children. So much so that he did not react to the letter of Reverend Fitzgerald, which contained facts, warnings and calls for action against the Vatican pedophiles. Dad pretended to be illiterate and continued to love children.
Even photographs of the construction show the scaly decoration, the peculiar shape of the scene with symbols of deadly fangs disguised as columns and windows in the natural shape of a reptile's eye.
Stained glass looks like a snake's eye more than the snake's eye itself. Interestingly, reptilians are divided into species, races and nationalities?
You understand that this can no longer be a foreshortening or a fantasy … During construction, no one chooses the foreshortenings. You look further, peer into details and suddenly your attention is attracted by a strange shadow behind the Pope's back.
The Pope looks even more toothy from the stage! And the fact that he speaks from the mouth of the snake is so symbolic that there is nowhere to go. The eye continues to observe.
Something creepy hangs over the Pope and prepares to devour him. You feel cold inside, but you cannot help.
When I saw it for the first time, I generally thought that I had combined Dad and the scenery from the filming of Nightmares on Elm Street in Photoshop.
Why doesn't anyone save the Pope? Can't they see? Dad! Turn around!
You literally scream at the monitor screen.
No, well, something infernal! After that, how not to think about the impure thoughts of the Vatican and friendship with all sorts of villains? In the hall, by the way, there is not a single crucifix or just a cross.
Don't you understand why Daddy isn't running anywhere? Why is everyone calm? Where does such composure come from? (reptiles, cold-blooded animals - approx.anunaki)
Dad is about to be dragged into hell! Where are the Swiss guards in the end. Cheese and chocolate gobbled up?
And then on the next page you are informed that behind the Pope's back is a sculpture - the Resurrection of Jesus.
Normal reaction to such a sculpture. Even a reptilian would agree.
Yes Yes. This is not a gateway to hell, not the arrival of Lucifer or hordes of souls locked in the body of Freddy Kluger. This is how the Vatican sees the savior. Do you have a feeling that believers and their Pope are praying to slightly different Gods?
The sculpture is called The Resurrection, La Resurrezione, and was designed by Pericle Fazzini. The inspiration came from the idea of Christ ascending to heaven after a nuclear explosion.
The author has an explanation of how such an idea came to him. It's a pity that he doesn't say what substance he used before.
It seems that the sculptor did not stop using during the story. The words "came to mind" should be understood literally as "coming from the substance."
I will not even post the photoshoots that fill the Internet, because the similarity of the “atomic Christ” with a slightly different comrade is already visible. From the same tale, but a little from another chapter.
Here. You don't even need to show everything. The head is enough. Same curves, one face. And in this form, Lucifer, I don't even know who he comes to. He needs souls, not wet pants.
But even this, straight as a stick, sent to Hell, behind the Pope's back, the matter does not end. Look and do not say that reptilians, only in the minds of madmen. They are also in the heads of the statues.
Uh-uh. No, we can still assume that this is not the head of a snake. I see the head of a brontosaurus here. What? Are dinosaurs reptiles too? Oh, yes - lizards. Sorry then.
On this reptilian head we will finish. You as you want, and I, something tensed. Sorry, I have to leave you. Business! See you soon!
Further narration comes from the third person. The camera follows the author
NAT. NIGHT. BIG CITY STREETS
The author of the note walks through the city at night. Holds a sheet of paper in front of him. Reads on the go. Mumbling.
NAT. NIGHT. A HILL WITH WHICH THE WHOLE CITY IS SEEN.
The Author appears. First the head, then the shoulders, then the whole body.
Pulls out a piece of paper with handwritten text. He was already beginning to read, but suddenly he realizes, pulls out a kippah and hats and side-locks from his pocket. Puts on. Then he hangs around his neck in turn, chains with a Magendavid, a cross, a Masonic compass, a swastika. The badge "Honorary Worker of the Medical Industry of the USSR" with the symbol of a snake and a bowl is attached to his jacket.
Clearing his throat, he loudly declares, looking into the darkness of heaven:
AUTHOR
Disclaimer! To whom it may concern. Lec mi spik from may hart in english. May I speak Russian? I didn't have time to translate.
Looks up interrogatively.
An asterisk appears in the sky through the clouds for a second, then it is again covered by a cloud. The author nods in satisfaction, taking this as a signal of approval.
AUTHOR
(loudly as at a rally)
- My dear Anunnaki, reptilians, masters of life and Darth Vader. I swear I didn't know! Forgive the fool. It was all monkey blood that covered my eyes for these years. In fact, I always felt that I was with you, even if I did not show it outwardly! Judge for yourself! As a child, I did not like to tie shoelaces - a direct allegory of the struggle for the life of reptiles and the unwillingness to tie snakes in a knot. On the Rikki-Tiki-Tavi disc, I painted over a mongoose with a pencil - so he was disgusted with me in my fight with cobras. When I was on vacation in warm places in the summer, I saw a snake, then assessing the situation, shouting loudly, I ran as fast as I could to my mother. Thus, he averted the danger from the reptile and took the vile people aside.
These and many other events show well that even at an unconscious young age, I subconsciously gravitated towards a bright one.
As I get older, to this day, I say this with pride, my favorite pastime in the evenings is playing with the one-eyed snake. I pay great attention to her, for a reason, but in order to bring my God-awful monkey gut closer to the sublime reptilian.
I hope this will help you to make a positive decision regarding my candidacy and save my life after your arrival. As I heard on TV, your descendants are very unhappy that our tribe has multiplied, and they no longer hide the fact that humanity needs to be reduced to an acceptable size in the Universe.
I hope for your understanding. I don't take up a lot of space, unpretentious, efficient. I'm learning to climb trees.
(after a pause)
Rahat-Lokum, Shalom, the Great Buddha-Reptilian.
Leaves into the night, to the song "Fly up the blue nights" holding a palm to his temple in a pioneer salute.
NAT. NIGHT DESCENT HILL
The author carefully descends the ladder. Looks carefully at his feet.
Suddenly, screams loudly and jumps to the side. A gecko sits on the road (5-6 cm)
On the face of the author a grimace of horror.
In a second, he seems to remember something, pulls a smile on himself and screams at the sky.
AUTHOR
Sorry. This has never happened to me!