What Will It Take To Stop The Climate Engineering Madness?
As we stand poised upon the precipice of our own self-destruction, I am consistently astounded by the unwillingness of people to wake up and smell the aerosols. Granted, I was also unaware of our situation until only a few years ago but, once I finally awakened to what was going on in the sky above me, there was no denial and no turning back. Unfortunately, this is not the case for many of the people around me, who I have struggled to awaken to the global climate engineering omnicide that is occurring around us, 24/7. Friends, family, casual acquaintances… most just shake their head and turn away. What will it take to wake them up?
About a decade ago, a wonderful dog came into my life. A stray who showed up in my yard mere days after the loss of my old red heeler, she and her companion arrived in a snowstorm, during the coldest depths of winter, when nighttime temperatures were dipping well below zero, fahrenheit. She was an Australian shepherd and her companion, a bearded collie. After unsuccessfully searching for their owners, we took them permanently into our hearts and named them Rose and Blanche. Rose was the name we gave to the Australian shepherd… a magnificent creature with an amazing intellect and an astoundingly strong will. That strong will had been her saving grace during her time at her previous home, where she had obviously been abused. With only a single remaining eye, and teeth that had been battered out of her muzzle, she was a sight to behold. But, she had a gloriously thick and beautiful coat that was only matched by an inner beauty that gradually and subtly revealed itself. What has this to do with climate engineering you ask? Quite a lot, as it turns out.
Our guess was she had been a show dog turned ranch dog/puppy mill. Perhaps she had been injured by a horse, causing the loss of her status as a show dog, but her enjoyment of being brushed and her stance during grooming, made it obvious that she knew the routine. She had definitely been abused by her previous owner though, as evidenced by her collapse into a nearly catatonic state anytime she thought she was going to be disciplined. She eventually overcame this tendency, as she came to understand she was now surrounded by love and compassion… but it took a while. Aside from her psychological and facial scars, she had an additional, and permanent, injury… her throat/windpipe had been crushed. This, coupled with having only one eye, made it very difficult for her to drink water from a bowl. In the winter, she overcame the problem by eating snow as her primary source of water. She also had difficulty with the warm temperatures inside our home due to her ultra thick coat, so she wanted to be out in the snow as much as possible. She savored winters, and cherished each and every snow pile, right down to the last spring remnants, perching upon them like a queen on her throne.
A few winters ago, I noticed a change in her behavior regarding her cherished snow. Where she once would dash outside to play in it at any opportunity, she now hesitated to go out at all, and became increasingly preoccupied with licking her feet every time she came in from outside. As it turned out, this was the same winter that would manifest the non melting snow phenomenon on YouTube… a sign of chemical ice nucleation. It would not be until a hole in my glove exposed my own skin to the burning brought on by the nucleated snow, that I would realize what was going on with Rose. It was heartbreaking… but it got worse. Rose’s years spent indulging in the snow had taken an invisible toll on her health and, the ramping up of the chemical nucleation that year would turn out to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. As winter turned to spring, and spring to summer, her health continued to decline. She had developed skin lesions that would not heal, was becoming increasingly arthritic and her constant need to drink and pee revealed that her kidneys were beginning to fail. By autumn, I was the last holdout for her and, eventually, succumbed to the pressure from my family members to put her down. Ironically, it was on the day of an anti-geoengineering march, 150 miles away, and I was unable to attend because I chose to spend the day at her side… waiting for the vet to arrive. I simply didn’t have it in me to put a bullet in her head, nor was I willing to allow this once magnificent animal to spend her last moments on a cold metal table inside a frightening room reeking of unsettling aromas. Instead, we spent the day together, outside in a drizzling rain. It was a blessing to me that the veterinarian was a friend who understood my desire to have her leave this Earth while in her favorite spot on the lawn. I still cannot relive those last moments without breaking down, even though this is my second winter without her. She and Blanche, the bearded collie, were inseparable and Blanche has taken the loss as hard as I have, with a noticeable change in her once exuberant personality. Blanche was not nearly so fond of the snow as Rose and has not suffered as many health complications.
But it gets worse.
We are now going to travel back in time… to Idaho in 1973, where I first met a group of fellows who would become very dear friends to me. They were a band of brothers. Not by blood, but by love… and they really were a band, or the remnants of one. Whitewater had been a very successful group on the college circuit in the early 1970’s, playing what would often be described as “acid-bluegrass” and opening for the likes of Fleetwood Mac, John Prine and Leo Kotke. By 1973 artistic differences had distilled the band down to just three members… Al Yates (bass), Paul Smith (mandolin) and Michael Wendling (banjo), all three also played guitar. As is so often the case, even these three eventually drifted apart as a band, but always remained friends and brothers. I too drifted away, all the way back home to California. Some 20+ years later, when life brought me back to Idaho, I would find my three friends still intact and still playing music together, though in a variety of musical incarnations. And, they still loved each other as brothers. I began dating Al, and was welcomed back into the fold as if I had never been away. Al and I have remained together all these years, and it has been my honor to be a part of their family. Again, what has this to do with climate engineering?
A few years ago Al began having health problems… heart trouble (even though he’s a non-smoker) and neuralgia (numbness in his feet and restless leg syndrome). At first I didn’t look for causal factors but, after I became aware of the impacts on health brought about by the climate engineering programs, it was easy to make the connection. What wasn’t easy was convincing Al that climate engineering was real and impacting his health. After three years of exposing him to the data, Al has finally begun to accept the reality of climate engineering but still resists the fact that it is impacting his health.
In the past few years Paul, the mandolin player, has developed severe breathing problems… Paul is also a non-smoker. Lately he has tried spending time with his son, in Seattle, in hopes that the lower elevation would give him more oxygen and improve his breathing. He uses a CPAP device to help him breath at night… which brings us to Michael.
Michael’s health has been in decline for some time now. His home in Jerome, on the Snake River Plain, has exposed him to a much higher density of climate engineering aerosols than we get here in the higher elevations of the Wood River Valley. Al and I would check in on him periodically when in his area, and he and Al spoke on the phone almost daily. Paul also made it a point to check on Michael regularly. During their last phone conversation, in late December, Michael told Al he was having trouble breathing… that he couldn’t seem to get enough air. Al fell and fractured his pelvis shortly after that and, in the interim, didn’t call Michael for about a week. About that same time, Paul, after a visit with Michael, decided to let him use his CPAP unit and would bring it by the next time he made a trip down to Jerome. But it was not to be. Shortly after New Year’s Day we got the call from Paul… Michael had passed on, alone in his apartment.
Remarkably, after all of this and all of the common denominators, I am still having trouble convincing Al about the health repercussions of the climate engineering programs. When I try to draw a correlation for him he usually responds, half jokingly, “did the spray fracture my pelvis?” The last time he said this to me I could not resist asking him why he thought it was OK, at 74, to try running around in a gym, on a hardwood floor with a bunch of guys several years his junior, learning to play pickleball and leading to his injury. I pointed out that the impact of the aerosols, on cognition, possibly did play a role in his bad judgement on that day.
So, what’s it going to take to stop the climate engineering madness? How many cherished loved ones must we lose? How many innocent animals, how many forests, wild lands, lakes and oceans must be decimated before we come to our senses and confront the reality that is beating us all to death every single day? I ask you… HOW MANY?
Please, educate yourself on this topic and share what you learn with anyone who will listen. Whisper it in church, tell your friends at lunch or SHOUT IT FROM THE MOUNTAIN TOPS! Whatever it takes to get the word out… JUST DO IT!!! PLEASE!
In memory of Michael Wendling, and my old gal Rose…
An excellent source of information:
Health Magazine Covers Climate Engineering: “Heavy Metal Contamination And Mass Extinction – What’s The Connection?”
Internationally Known Doctor Addresses Dire Climate Engineering Issue
Physician Addresses Climate Engineering Dangers At Community Workshop