The Man Who Would be King of Cannabis

The house sits near the crest of a dike in a remote section of Holland near the German border. Built around 1880, it’s a grand structure with 15-foot ceilings, elaborately carved moldings and custom stained-glass windows. This is far from your ordinary 19th-century mansion, however, as Nevil, the man who lives here, breeds cannabis and sells the seeds for a living. Instead of wine cellars, this mansion’s basement is filled with indoor grow rooms.

On Thursday, November 6, 1986, Nevil returned from his daily pilgrimage to a nearby post office. It is raining lightly and a cold breeze blows off the Rhine. Although the sun made a brief appearance early in the day, massive, billowing clouds have obliterated it.

As Nevil enters his house, he is assaulted by his watchdog, Elka. He climbs the stairs to his living room, flops on an old couch, and starts opening his mail. “Breeding is a matter of bending nature to your will,” he says while drawing a toke on a joint of Skunk #1. “There’s not a coffeeshop in Holland that can produce better weed than this. But I don’t sell it. I give it away—or I throw it away.”

In a few short years, Nevil has made an incredible transformation from penniless junkie to wealthy entrepreneur. Although he’s an effective and efficient businessman, cannabis is his business, so things are run a bit differently around here. For example, resinous buds of exotic strains are strewn haphazardly about the room, as are large chunks of hash and bags filled with seeds.

Nevil is a displaced Australian of Dutch heritage, and has a quiet, understated sense of humor. He lives in relative seclusion on his estate, breeding marijuana, playing pool, watching videos, waiting patiently for his many cannabis experiments to bear fruit. He has his doubts about the future of the marijuana business in the Netherlands, but these doubts disappear in a whiff of smoke whenever he samples a new, successful hybrid.

“In the beginning I was quite keen for people to come here and visit me, but I found it takes large amounts of my time,” he says. “I have to sit around and smoke with them. Now it has to be someone worthwhile, someone who has a large project in mind. Most American growers are looking for the same thing: strong, overpowering, two-toke indica with huge yields. My number-one seller is Northern Lights.”

After the mail has been sorted and delivered to the in-house accountant, Nevil visits the basement to inspect his prize plants. The doors to four grow rooms are wide open, disclosing the blinding glare of dozens of sodium and halide lights. Powerful exhaust fans circulate the air, and the smell of cannabis is overpowering. Three of the rooms are devoted to young seedlings, while the largest contains 40 flowering females in their spectacular resinous glory.

Nevil placed this classified ad in September 1984 High Times.

It’s no secret that an explosion of indoor marijuana propagation has taken place in America: grow stores are sprouting across the nation and high-wattage grow lights are selling faster than Christmas trees in December. The reason for this sudden interest in indoor growing is no secret either: high-quality marijuana has been nearly impossible to find—unless, of course, one personally knows a grower. But any pot farmer will tell you good equipment does not guarantee a good harvest. The most important element, in fact, is good seeds. And until recently, good seeds have been as rare as a $15 ounce of Colombian Gold.

Thanks to Nevil, however, this sad situation has changed. Every day letters pour into his post office box, containing American dollars wrapped in carbon paper to avoid detection. The money is for seeds. Not ordinary pot seeds, but the best, most potent seeds on the market, seeds that will grow gargantuan buds dripping with resin, seeds that cost between $2 and $5 each.

Nevil’s seed factory is perfectly legal. The Dutch government views Nevil as a legitimate, tax-paying businessman. Seed merchants are held in esteem in Holland, and even though Nevil is something of a small-fry by seed merchant standards, he is a protected national asset nonetheless. In 1985, his company supplied $500,000 worth of seeds to 15,000 American growers. If you smoke high-quality marijuana, chances are good the buds may have been grown with Nevil’s stock.

There is a big difference between growing marijuana and breeding for quality. The best-known example of the long-term effects of breeding are the Cannabis indica plants that arrived in the United States in the ’70s. For hundreds of years indica plants were bred by Afghani farmers for disease resistance, early flowering, large buds and wide leaves. The strain was developed for hash production, but it was also useful for American growers who had difficulty with sativa strains, most of which require longer growing cycles.

Ever since indica arrived in the USA, breeders have been creating hybrids that take advantage of indica’s early flowering and sativa’s bell-like high. The results of these experiments first appeared at secret harvest festivals in California, Oregon and Washington. Then, in the early ’80s, a legendary underground organization called the Sacred Seed Company began distributing these remarkable hybrids. Nevil’s company, The Seed Bank, sells many strains originally developed by the Sacred Seed Company, including the famed Skunk #1, Early Girl and California Orange. More recently, however, some of the most mind-blowing strains have come out of the Pacific Northwest; Northern Lights, University, Big Bud and Hash Plant are adequate proof that Seattle and Portland now hold the breeding crown. Needless to say, Nevil’s Seed Bank obtained cuttings and seeds of all these varieties as well.

Who is Nevil and how did he come to found this amazing company? The man who would be King of Cannabis is the son of Dutch migrants who settled in Perth, Australia in 1954. His father trained telephone technicians, while his mother became a counselor for unwed mothers. They were adventurous, hardworking Catholics, and they raised their six children strictly, sending them to Catholic schools.

“I wasn’t the most malleable child,” admits Nevil. “From an early age I had an aversion to authority. I was the first-born, and I saw myself as a sort of pathbreaker for the rest of the children.”

Despite his rebellious nature, Nevil was intelligent enough to jump two years ahead of his peers, a leap that resulted in his being the smallest in class. “I got beat up a lot,” he admits. “A typical day would start with the teacher calling me up in front of the class to smell my breath. ‘Yep,’ she’d say, ‘You’ve been smoking.’ And I’d get six of the best straight away. And that was just to start the day! Usually a thing like that would put me into a bad mood, so the rest of the day wasn’t much good either. It worked out I got the strap 900 times in one year, the school record.”

Nevil was not your typical juvenile delinquent. At age seven, he began raising parakeets; two years later he joined the Parakeet Society of Western Australia. “My best friend across the road got some parakeets,” he explains, “and I got extremely jealous. After he started breeding I became quite adamant I’d do the same.”

He eventually became friends with one of Australia’s leading parakeet breeders, Bob Graham. “I learned an awful lot from him,” he says. “He was a quadriplegic and he was incredibly intelligent.” Nevil learned Mendel’s laws of breeding and began charting dominant, recessive and intermediate traits for his birds (something he would later do with cannabis plants). “I bought some of Graham’s stock and got immediate results,” he says. “When you breed parakeets, you breed to an ideal. It’s like sculpting with genes.”

When he was 15, Nevil was sent to a state school and forced to repeat his third year of high school. Consequently, he caught up with his classmates in size. “I got into a few fights,” he says with a smile, “just to get back for all the times I’d been beaten up.”

Although discipline at the school was considered harsh, it proved a cakewalk after Catholic school. “The first time I was brought before the headmaster to be punished, he made me hold out my hand and he tapped it twice with a cane,” recalls Nevil. “I thought he was just aiming. I closed my eyes and waited for the real pain, but it never came. I was quite shocked. I thought, ‘Well, now I can do anything I want.’ I ignored the dress code and dressed how I pleased. That didn’t go over well, and I managed to get kicked out within three months.”
He also discovered marijuana.

“I had an American friend who suggested we buy some,” he says. “I remember thinking, ‘Okay, I’m not scared.’ We both pretended we’d done it before, when, in fact, neither of us had. After scoring from someone at school, we went back to a shed outside his house. I volunteered to roll joints, even though I’d never done it before. There were three of us and I rolled three joints, one for each of us,” he laughs. “It seemed logical at the time, still does, actually, even though it was more normal to pass joints. But we didn’t know any better. It was Indonesian weed and we got extremely ripped. I really liked the sense of time distortion—everything happened so slowly.”

There was plenty of high-quality reefer going around Australia, and to insure a steady supply for himself, Nevil made the jump from smoker to dealer in a matter of weeks. Meanwhile, to satisfy his parents, he found a legitimate job.

“As long as I couldn’t be the Pope, my mother wanted me to be a doctor or veterinarian,” he says. “My father didn’t see this as a possibility and just wanted me to get a job. Fortunately, I was offered work as a lab assistant at a local university, which was semi-professional, eh? And I was working, so they were both satisfied.”

Nevil did well at the position. So well, in fact, that he was made acting head of the anatomy lab with responsibility for the operating room, animal room and office. He was given the only set of keys to the drug cabinet and placed in charge of ordering drugs when supplies ran low. For someone interested in sampling illicit chemicals, it seemed like the perfect job.

“Having heard horror stories about cannabis and how bad it was for you, I decided everyone in authority lied about drugs,” says Nevil. “I knew cannabis wasn’t harmful. I concluded the harmful effects of other drugs must be exaggerated as well. I started with barbiturates. I knew many people used them for sleeping tablets. Eventually, I tried morphine. I was quite good at giving injections. There’s something very professional and doctor-like about giving yourself an injection. I had to inject rabbits and mice all the time, and if you can hit a vein in a rabbit’s ear, you can get any human vein. I veined the first time I tried. Morphine made me feel good. I had friends who were already addicted to heroin and they encouraged me. Soon, I had a bag filled with tablets, pills and chemicals of all sorts from the lab.” Unfortunately for Nevil, this situation was not destined to last. Within a few months, he was arrested for drug possession. And it didn’t take long for the police to figure out where the drugs had come from.

The head of the anatomy department suggested Nevil be sent to a treatment center. His parents agreed, and had their son committed to a university psychiatric ward for six weeks. “I wasn’t addicted at the time,” says Nevil. “I used far too large a variety of ingestables to become addicted to any one thing. After I was released I had the option of working part-time at the university—to build up my position again. But I felt the stigma of being a known user. It was a bit unbearable. So I left and started hanging around with people who supplied smack. Even though I started shooting smack, I never sold it. I just sold weed.”

One day Nevil woke up with a terrific backache. His hips and the base of his spine hurt terribly. He went to a doctor and was given some pain pills, which proved useless. The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong. Nevil went home, and the pain still wouldn’t go away.

“Then I realized, ‘Shit, I’m addicted,’ ” he says. “It was quite a substantial shock even though I knew it had to come eventually.” He enrolled in a methadone program, which proved to be an extremely dehumanizing experience. “They made me beg for drugs,” he says. “I didn’t like that. I was scoring weed in Melbourne and shipping it back in huge speakers, telling people I was in a band. I was making what seemed like a huge sum of money—$5,000 a week.”

Unfortunately, Nevil gave a free sample to a girl who was later arrested by the police. The girl identified Nevil as her supplier and a long court case ensued, one that eventually reached the Australian version of the Supreme Court. Throughout the trial, Nevil was enrolled in a methadone program and under psychiatric supervision. “I got the feeling things were coming to a head,” he says. “My drug problem seemed quite insurmountable and the case didn’t look promising. So I flew to Thailand.”

For several weeks Nevil lived in a cheap hotel in Bangkok, shooting heroin until his money ran out. He skipped out on the bill, moved to another hotel and began hawking his valuables to raise money. “I found a taxi driver who would take me to exclusive shops in the city,” he says. “The driver would get a kickback from the store for delivering Europeans to the shop, whether they bought anything or not. After we left, the driver and I would split the kickback.”

However, after they’d visited every shop in Bangkok (and were no longer welcome at any of them), Nevil telephoned his parents and asked for a plane ticket home. Unfortunately, the police had already appeared at his house with a warrant for his arrest. “It didn’t seem prudent to return to Australia,” says Nevil with typical understatement. His parents sent him a ticket to the Netherlands and the address of an uncle living in the countryside.

After Thailand, Nevil’s habit was really out of control. Upon arriving in Holland, he immediately enrolled in a methadone program and discovered he required 24 tablets a day to stay straight. “I handled that for about six months,” he says.

“I was trying to cut down, trying to fit in. I had unemployment benefits, which is enough to survive in Holland. But I was feeling quite lonely.” Six months later, he moved to Tillberg, the center of Holland’s smack scene.

In 1980, Junkie-Union appeared in Holland, a pro-heroin movement protesting police raids and abstinence-oriented therapies.

Obviously, Tillberg was not the sort of environment conducive to kicking heroin. Junkies had taken over the city, converting pubs and hotels into shooting galleries. “My first day in town, I went to a bar called the Lawyer’s Purse,” he says. “Smack was being sold up and down the counter. It was a madhouse. Apparently, the police didn’t—or couldn’t—do anything about it. It went on like that for quite some time. When the police would close one place down, everyone would move to another bar. It was a fairly rough town and I went through a time of hardship. I had no money except welfare. I had a raging habit. I was living in a town known for being tough and criminal. I cost the state large chunks of money as I went through all the available drug rehabilitation programs. After having made numerous failed attempts at stopping, I decided no one could help me. Which is true. No one can help a junkie. He can only help himself. So, I decided to kick heroin on my own. I convinced a doctor to give me ’ludes to sleep and a synthetic opiate, which probably didn’t do anything. I stayed home and suffered for six weeks until I reached the point where I could handle alcohol. Then I started drinking every day, a half-bottle of Scotch in the morning, a half-bottle at night. I used the ’ludes to sleep, so that there was always a certain part of the day blocked out. Eventually, I got sick of hangovers and turned to grass. I decided it was probably the only acceptable drug.”

In 1980, while still trying to kick his habit, Nevil stumbled across a copy of the Marijuana Grower’s Guide by Mel Frank and Ed Rosenthal. “I’d grown some weed in the bush in Australia,” he says. The book helped reawaken Nevil’s interest in genetics. Why not combine his two favorite pursuits, breeding and getting high? Nevil applied for a loan to build an indoor growing chamber for marijuana. Only in Holland could such a request be taken seriously. “The drug program I was enrolled in gave grants to drug addicts to get them started doing something useful,” he explains. “I told them I wanted to grow weed indoors. They weren’t thrilled with the idea, but they gave me the money anyway.” The unit employed eight five-foot fluorescent lights. “There was a vacant lot behind my apartment, and I filled it with weed. I had Nigerian, Colombian and Mexican seeds. The Mexican was the best. I still have the strain. My dwarfs come from it.” Although there wasn’t much demand for homegrown weed in Holland, hash oil was a valuable commodity and could be sold easily. So Nevil became a professional hash-oil maker.

Nevil used petroleum ether, an extremely flamable liquid, for the distillation process. “I was heating it with thermostatically-controlled electric plates,” he says. Unfortunately, Nevil didn’t realize the thermostat on the heater had to be placed in another room because it sparked when turned on. He had a sink with 40 liters of petroleum ether, as well as a can with another 10 liters on the floor. One day he turned on the thermostat and a spark exploded into a flame, which instantly turned the room into a raging fire.

With eyes closed, Nevil ran to the adjoining room and dove out the window, bouncing off a roof and rolling onto a sidewalk. “My first thought after hitting the ground was to save my dope,” he says with a laugh. He ran back inside, grabbed whatever hash oil he could find, and buried it in the backyard. He went back again and collected whatever valuables he could find. “Then I went next door to tell the neighbors,” he says. “They were shocked by my appearance. I didn’t realize my hair was singed, my face was black, my clothes were torn. I was covered with burn blisters.”

Twenty minutes later the police arrived, followed by the fire brigade and an ambulance. At the hospital, the burn specialist told him he was lucky to be in such pain, because it meant the burns weren’t third-degree. He was given a shot of morphine to kill the pain. The next morning, Nevil refused further shots. “I knew I’d turn into a junkie again,” he says.

Despite horror stories from his doctors about being scarred for life, Nevil was released two weeks later with no visible damage. There was one permanent change, however. Nevil decided not to make hash oil anymore.

Since Nevil had been reading High Times, he knew revolutionary new indica strains were appearing in the United States, even though none were available in Holland. If only he could grow weed the Dutch would consider palatable, then he’d be in business and could sell marijuana instead of hash oil. He searched through copies of High Times hoping to find an indica seed supplier. “I looked for hidden meanings in all the ads,” he says. “Of course, it was just fantasy on my part. I knew how difficult it was to get good Nigerian and Indonesian seeds in America, and I wanted to trade with someone.”

Eventually, Nevil realized there was only one way to obtain good seeds, and that was to become a seed merchant himself. He hired a lawyer to investigate the legal implications and discovered it was possible to sell cannabis seeds in the Netherlands. Within a matter of months, he sent his first ad to High Times.

“I expected there were thousands of people just like me, and as soon as they saw the ad, I’d be in business,” recalls Nevil. Business, however, was disappointingly slow for the first few months. Why? Probably because most readers found it hard to believe high-quality seeds could be obtained so easily.

Nevil doesn’t discuss his distribution system, but there is no doubt the seeds were getting through. Most of the money he received went back into improving his seed strains. Nevil went to great expense to obtain seeds, a commitment best illustrated by a secret trip to Mazar-I-Sharif in Afghanistan. According to the Moslem legend, one of Mohammad’s sons died in the city. Consequently, it is a very holy place. It is also known for high-quality hashish. Although hash from the area had been readily available in Holland in the ’70s, the Soviet invasion of the country greatly reduced exports. In 1985, an Afghan refugee told Nevil the fields around Mazar-I-Sharif were being destroyed. “That was all I needed to hear,” says Nevil. “I caught the next plane to Pakistan to save the strain.”

The story of this adventure first appeared in Regardies magazine and was written by former High Times reporter A. Craig Copetas. After being smuggled into a refugee camp near Peshawar while lying on the floor of a car, Nevil made contact with a 30-year-old Muslim fanatic who had a throbbing vein that ran from between his eyes straight up his forehead. The man took a lump of black hash out of his pocket and told Nevil that it had been processed by his uncle, a man known as Mr. Hashish…. Surrounded by four men who were pointing machine guns at him, Nevil set about negotiating with Mr. Hashish, a Mujahedin commander, and finally persuaded him to send a squad of his men 280 miles into Soviet-occupied territory and come back with two kilos of healthy Mazari seeds.

“He thought I was ridiculous because I didn’t want to buy hash or opium,” recalls Nevil. “Nobody had ever come there before to buy seeds, and at first he had no idea what I was talking about. I stood there trying to explain genetics to this tribal hash leader in sign language. When he finally figured out what I wanted, he asked for too much money. I took a zero off his price and gave him ten percent up front. He called me a bandit, but I had the seeds four days later.”

Nevil also went to great lengths to obtain ruderalis seeds, a little-known cannabis strain that grows primarily in Russia. Although some American growers had sold so-called ruderalis strains in the past, Nevil undertook the necessary trip to the Russian-Hungarian border to authenticate the plant.

Ruderalis is not known for spectacular resin content, but it flowers automatically — regardless of photoperiod—which makes it a potentially useful hybrid, especially for outdoor growers. Nevil began crossing ruderalis-indica hybrids with his Mexican dwarfs. The result?

An indoor/outdoor bonsai marijuana tree that matures within two months and never reaches a height over two feet. Such a plant would be difficult to detect from the air and it could take years before the DEA even figured out what it was. (After several years, Nevil abandoned his ruderalis experiments.)

“Since becoming a seed merchant, I’ve directed all my energies and money into finding people with superior strains of cannabis and getting seeds out of them,” says Nevil. “And I can honestly say, I’ve never heard of a strain I wanted that I wasn’t able to get—one way or another. Theoretically, there is someone out there growing better stuff than I am using my seeds. Why? Because tens of thousands of plants are being grown with my stock. Selection from tens of thousands gets phenomenal results, while I can only select from a few hundred. I’m not holding back anything. Any grower in America can experiment with the same stock.”

Epilogue 2023

Intel had been tracking me long before I left for the Netherlands to interview Nevil. The night before I flew back to New York, I was waylaid by Robert Clarke and Sam the Skunkman, who had recently sold seeds to Nevil, including Skunk #1 and Pollyanna. Sam told stories about the harvest festivals in Santa Cruz before CAMP shut down the ceremonies. Skunk #1 was a legendary award winner created by a grower’s collective known as Sacred Seeds. On the plane back, I got the idea of creating the Cannabis Cup, something I began working on as soon as I landed. Nobody was using the word “cannabis” at the time. Even scientists like Dr. Lester Grinspoon preferred the Mexican slang term, marihuana.

Sam began his plot for global domination by partnering with Wernard Bruining, founder of Mellow Yellow, which had started as a squat with a house dealer but had changed names and become a huge operation. Wernard designed the club as a hangout where he and his friends could get stash, and that expanded into a cafe supported by had two huge outdoor greenhouses. Ed Rosenthal wrote about the grows and introduced Sam to Wernard, who quickly became alarmed by the scope of Sam’s plans. Shortly after Wernard ended his partnership with Sam, his two grow ops were both busted, the first cannabis grow ops taken down in Holland’s history.

Cultivators Choice catalogue, 1985.

A few months later, I was back at the Castle collecting samples for the first Cup. Nevil and Ben Dronkers had agreed to participate but Sam kept waffling. He eventually agreed to join the competition days before the event kicked off. The three judges included the photographer (Jeff Vaughan), the new grow writer (Bram Frank), and me.

I dubbed the photographer “Jiffy Schnack” because he couldn’t walk past a street vendor without buying and consuming something. When not snacking, Jiffy could be found holed up in his boatel room, chain-smoking Northern Lights and blasting Metallica on his Walkman headphones.

Jiffy tried chain-smoking Skunk #1, but it gave him a headache. He openly disdained the praise Bram and I bestowed upon the strain for its wonderful flavor. Eventually Jiffy declared his intention to throw the contest to Northern Lights by voting down Skunk #1.

It was the first attempt to rig the Cup, but would not be the last. Sam attached himself to the three of us and eventually got wind of Jiffy’s plot, and began pressuring me to cancel his vote. Since there was no Awards Show nor celebratory dinner (we were on the thinnest of budgets), the Cup would not be publicized until the issue came out in four months. I recall Sam complaining about not being given a real trophy to take home when he arrived to inspect the issue prior to printing. (It wasn’t until the 6th Cup that unique cannabis trophies were created by Robin “The Hammer” Ludwig.)

One moment stuck out while visiting Nevil to pick up his samples for testing. Nevil wanted to inspect the competition, but Sensi Seeds had turned in fresh-picked buds so wet I didn’t see how we could smoke them. Nevil peeled off some buds and blasted them in his microwave. Sitting next to the microwave was a tall jar filled with water with a green deposit on the bottom. Nevil informed me it was his new technique for making hash with water, something possible because the water entering his house was exceedingly cold.

When I returned to the office and began working on the issue for the first Cup, Sam and Rob arrived to deliver a photo of Skunk #1 for the cover. They were giddy with excitement as they wanted to take out a display ad in High Times. In return for $10 cash, they promised to deliver the secret of turning stash into hash (or mold into gold). The ad ran as a trade agreement in exchange for use of a photo of Skunk #1 on the cover. Rob was a comics fan and commissioned Flick to create an illustration. Flick was paid in stash. Rob had initially stayed at my apartment while visiting New York, but had switched to Flick’s smaller abode, possibly because it afforded him a get-high buddy capable of keeping pace with his intake. The more mysterious Sam, however, never made an appearance anywhere in New York outside that one visit to the office.

It took decades before I realized that giddiness may not have been due to the anticipation of making a fortune selling a sheet of paper for $10, but by forging a trail for possible grandfather rights on making water hash. I got a letter from Rob after the ad was published telling me not to run it again as it had served its purpose. The description claimed the final product had the consistency of “chewed bubblegum.”

Sam and Rob often seemed focussed on some distant pot of gold and global domination in cannabis genetics usually seemed part of that vision. I sensed Nevil’s rise in status in the realm of cannabis might be threatening their swagger. Like Tom Forcade, Sam was an outlaw hidden in the shadows, never photographed, and nobody knew his real name, only a string of aliases: Sam the Skunkman, Sam Selezny, Sam Selgnij, Sahdu Sam. Nevil, meanwhile, had played Abbie Hoffman to Sam’s Forcade and seized the glory.

Like many American’s at the time, I paid little attention to hash, being fully satisfied taking a few sips off a flavorful joint, although the Dutch quickly converted me to their art of rolling with filter tips. I served as a judge for the first Cup and instantly knew judging was not my thing. Unlike Jiffy and Flick, I had no love of constant weed and hash smoking and received more satisfaction studying the hidden history of cannabis in religion, an attitude that put me at a social disadvantage among hard-core, hash-smoking afficionados.

I sensed the primary reason for being waylaid by Sam and Rob right after departing Nevil’s was simply so they could prove their head-stash was better than his. Nevil was fine-sifting the finest Haze tops at the time and not all that eager to share his pressed hash with a novice like me. Sam, on the other hand, was doing the same with Skunk #1 and his head-stash was a golden, unpressed power that made a tiny liquid pool in the center when hit with a flame. Nevil’s hash didn’t do that.

Eventually, liquid would not be enough and hash would need to bubble like lava to be considered pure, but that was still a decade away.

Operation Green Merchant

High Times was always a cutthroat environment. When I arrived as a full-timer in 1985, the editorial and art staff had just been sacked right before Christmas. The trustees running the magazine had pulled the annual staff Christmas bonus due to sliding sales. Someone leaked the story to the New York Post and word came down from on high the squealer needed to be exposed and punished. Nobody confessed nobody squealed, so everyone was fired.

The magazine was obviously being busted out and had been in sharp decline for years while the trustees took out millions a year for themselves through cutting budgets, expenses and salaries. There was no editorial budget, as most content was ad trade or given free, especially cultivation information. Aside from cultivation, the content was uninspired with the exception of Dean Latimer’s occasional contributions. But after Larry “Ratso” Sloman resigned, nothing like what Tom had produced or intended appeared until my arrival, mostly just steady promotion of cocaine, heroin and porn. I didn’t have a lot of respect for the people responsible for this transformation, and maybe they sensed it.

Peter Gorman.

Upon arrival I began scouring the files for ignored submissions worth publishing and found several, including one by Peter Gorman, who’d I’d soon hire full-time. He was a natural reporter and once tracked down a leader in Earth First by leaving messages at a sports bar in his general area right before a game involving his college team.

John Holmstrom.

I kicked out the hard drugs and began promoting flowers and fungi. The publisher, however, demanded at least one hard drugs quote remain in every THMQ and the trustees always sided with him and if they didn’t he’d find some other way to torment me in retaliation. I imagine it might have been difficult watching me turn the company around on a dime, since it put his incompetence on display. I began promoting indoor cultivation as the best means for avoiding the black market entirely, and indoor grow articles began appearing in every issue, mostly on closet gardening in small spaces.  The ads for the equipment swiftly followed. John Holmstrom, founder of Punk magazine, was brought in as my executive editor and for a couple of wonderful years we had a blast transforming High Times into a cross between National Lampoon and Covert Action Quarterly.

The parties were legendary, mostly due to the High Times house band, the Soul Assassins. The lead singer, Flick Ford, was my sidekick in those days and had recently designed my groundbreaking book, Art After Midnight. He’d soon become art director of High Times. But it was only after we added an amazing trio of super hotties from the Lower East Side dubbed the Assassinettes that we developed a rabid downtown following. One night Malcolm Forbes pulled up on a Harley to check out our packed show at Continental Divide. That’s how far the buzz had traveled in a few short months. What I didn’t realize, however, was High Times had become the biggest seller at Tower Records on both coasts. There were no celebrations or announcements by the publisher. I knew advertising had skyrocketed, but the business side remained silent about money pouring in from the sudden rise in circulation. Instead, the trustees secretly upped their bonuses and began investing profits into phone sex lines. High Times catered to the sleaziest, bottom-feeding ad base in the industry as the publisher never saw an ad he didn’t like, and the explosion of phone sex advertising convinced him this is where the company needed to invest some money, and the trustees agreed.

Bill Kelly.

One of my goofier ideas was an homage to my favorite deejay Bill Kelly at WFMU who was largely responsible for promoting a garage rock revival in the New York City area. During his show, Kelly would read Ed Anger columns out of the Weekly World News, making fun of Anger’s illogical rightwing rants. I created a column in High Times called “My Amerika by Ed Hassle” supposedly written by a rabid Grateful Dead fan who was lost in tin-foil-hat lunacy. The character was designed as a goof on hippie fascism, something known as “woke culture” today. Hassle was the first anti-woke influencer disguised as a pro-woke influencer. It only took a few months for him to become the most popular columnist in the magazine, surpassing grow guru Ed Rosenthal, although I often wondered how many of his fans were in on the gag and how many swallowed his kool-aid rants. Aside from his monthly column, Hassle soon began appearing in multi-page comicstrips on a wide variety of topics, carving out a sizable presence in the magazine.

The ad that got Hassle whacked.

I’d asked Flick to make Hassle come to life as a cartoon character. I was executive editor at the time and Flick was a freelancer suddenly doing multi-page full-color comics. I suggested he should get some creative rights as he was being paid far below scale, a request that soon provoked Hassle’s removal. Kennedy gave me the bad news in the form of a comedy news release wherein Hassle was victim of a mafia hit. It felt like he was stomping on me and laughing at the same time. Whenever Kennedy made some imperial pronouncement like his killing off of Hassle, it was always non-negotiable. I had no idea at the time he was the real power behind the throne running the company, and not the trustees, two of whom were his puppets. The third (Tom’s mother) would get axed the first time she sided with me on anything. I was sent a letter by Judy instructing me to never to speak nor write her mother ever again. Aside from Tom, the mother was the only honest one in the family.

Around this time, Kennedy was representing the head of the real Italian mafia in the huge Pizza Connection trial. Kennedy was paid a quarter million and his entire defense amounted to putting the capo and a few underlings  on the stand just long enough for them to confirm there was a ban on heroin trafficking within the order. When that defense failed and the client got convicted, Kennedy put out the word it was his last mafia case. He might have been worried about getting a hit on himself.

But after Operation Green Merchant put the corporation in peril, I made a plea to bring back Hassle to save the company by igniting an activist response to DEA harassment on High Times. NORML had initially refused to be associated with the return of the Hash Bash, indicating Kennedy had likely been telling them not to get involved with my antics, but that changed after 10,000 people showed up on the University of Michigan diag.

Kennedy was seldom seen or heard-from, although everyone at the office remained on tippy-toes during his infrequent visits because his temper tantrums were legendary. Right before Hassle was purged, Hassle’s latest comic strip had blown the whistle on the government cover-up of alien spacecraft secretly sucking trichomes off outdoor cannabis plants, something responsible for a national decline in pot potency. Hassle had only managed to uncover this operation after being abducted by UFOs. Although all memories had been wiped by alien doctors, snippets were later recovered through hypnosis. The strip was a parody of the sort of UFO material found in supermarket tabloids, stories I assumed were planted by intelligence agencies to divert the dumbest among us away from any real conspiracies like the JFK assassination or MK/Ultra brainwashing. Even today I believe phony UFO stories are constantly floated by intel to keep people diverted and confused.

High Times catered to the most disreputable ads.

The night before the 15th anniversary party, the publisher was abruptly fired in one of Kennedy’s secretive midnight moves. Had he not been fired, that publisher would have become one of the biggest shareholders since he had purchased Tom’s widow’s shares, allegedly for $50,000. Gabrielle Schang wanted out of the company after Kennedy seized control from her, but that didn’t happen until after she’d fired most of the original staff, cutting down the vested-employee list considerably. Any employees hired after 1990 weren’t going to qualify, so my staff and I were the last ones in. There never was any information about the trust or what we stood to gain when it dissolved. Even after the trust dissolved in 2000, none of the employees were allowed a copy of the articles of incorporation, possibly because one stipulated minority shareholders could never audit the finances.

Much of what Kennedy did was illegal. Lying, cheating and stealing was in his wheelhouse and he ran High Times like an intelligence operation, on a need-to-know basis, while playing people off each other. Many decades later, the reason became clear: Kennedy had stolen the company from the rightful employees and subverted its founder’s mission, which had been to funnel all profit to NORML. But NORML only got some free ads, which cost the company nothing. Millions in profit went straight to Kennedy and Tom’s sister, Judy Baker, except for what the accountants could steal.

Another fact became clear as well. Kennedy had been the secret leader of a terrorist network of avowed Communists who attempted to instigate a violent takeover of the Constitution by planting bombs and distributing weapons and explosives, mostly to blacks either recently returned from Vietnam or released from prison.

The Weather Underground murdered at least three police officers and were involved in the kidnapping of Patti Hearst and subsequent shoot-out between the Symbionese Liberation Army and police. Supplying MK/Ultra psychopaths with automatic weapons had been their prime directive. Like Charlie Manson, who was likely being run by MK/Ultra scientists, the Weather Underground sought to instigate a race war. Even after Timothy Leary outed Kennedy as the leader of the nation’s most-wanted terrorists, Kennedy escaped serious investigation and his terrorist group was lionized afterward by Hollywood while the two primary leaders under Kennedy came out of the cold and waltzed into university gigs with pensions.

On October 26, 1989, agents arrested 119 people while raiding stores in 46 states. Business records and customer lists were carted away by the wheelbarrow. Many of these companies went out-of-business immediately and for the next two years, names and addresses seized would be milked during ongoing raids. Typically, if your address appeared on the list, they’d check your power consumption and if it was deemed excessive, a flyover of your property with an infrared camera would follow.

Operation Green Merchant was well-planned and executed by the DEA and intended to shut down The Seed Bank, High Times, Sinsemilla Tips and most of the indoor grow industry in one fell swoop. The DEA had worked on the plan for over a year infiltrating grow stores with agents posing as medical users who entrapped clueless employees by discussing cannabis as medicine.

By the end of 1991, DEA agents had interrogated hundreds, including scientists at NASA’s horticultural research facilities who had ordered grow equipment, while arresting 1,262 people, dismantling 977 indoor grows, and seizing $17.5 million in assets. Dozens served between 4-to-15-year prison terms, many with mandatory minimums that blocked any sentence reductions.

The first day, two DEA agents showed up at the High Times office to deliver a subpoena on me. I was ordered to hand over all correspondence I’d had with Nevil while making an appearance in New Orleans. I didn’t know it at the time but one of Nevil’s primary remailers in Michigan had turned State’s Evidence and provided names and addresses of all Nevil’s customers he had shipped seeds to.

Ed Hassle to the Rescue

There were serious worries Green Merchant might black swan the company, but it really only killed off most of the advertising. The media for the most part rallied around freedom of the press, and I got invited on national television to expound the virtues of hemp and medical marijuana. At the time, few seemed aware that petrochemical poison was creating immense negative health issues and severely impacting the health of the planet. When I tried to discuss these issues, the commentators thought I was talking about the oil crisis and not an environmental crisis.

I got permission to bring back Hassle, who made a plea for people to join the Freedom Fighters. The idea was to create a wave of protest rallies across the country. Any members who attended a rally (or wrote a letter to an elected representative supporting legalization) got a Freedom Fighter pin. New pins were made annually. All it took to join was a one-time fee of $15.

The Freedom Fighters were asked to participate in improvisational ritual theater by dressing up in Colonial outfits and carrying drums to the rallies. Members were encouraged to seek out news crews covering the rally to discuss what hemp legalization could do for the environment. Instead of stoners smoking weed, rally coverage shifted to people  in tricorn hats talking about how President Washington was a hemp farmer, who once wrote: “Make the most of hemp seed. Sow it everywhere.”

The result caught me by surprise. Thousands of people began sending in $15 and joining the fight for hemp legalization. Suddenly, I had a war chest for activist activities. I produced a documentary on those years, the first of many I’d create at almost no cost to the company. Strangely, the company never attempted to exploit the steady flow of video content, which included feature documentaries, internet TV shows like the Cannabis Castaways (based on just-launched Survivor on CBS), stoner comedy shorts, and multi-camera music videos that were pouring out of my office. I thought I was laying the groundwork for our own cable channel and I was getting meetings with the heads of Comedy Central and Lion’s Gate, so my work was taken seriously by some. The Castaway project became the most popular feature on the website upon launch (even though it was restricted to postage stamp size), but my video was soon quietly junked, after which I was never allowed input to any of the company’s websites ever again.

I decided to kill off Ed Hassle but was having trouble figuring out a way to explain why since he was so popular. I settled on a 1,400 word interview on how the Freedom Fighters had begun as a party, but had morphed into a serious national movement. I’d created numerous independent state chapters and the heads included Jack Herer (who was unknown outside Oregon at the time), Debbie Goldsberry and Rodger Belknap.

Mike Edison wrote a revenge book supposedly a tell-all from inside High Times, but mostly involving Edison’s various bands and firings, highlighted by his addictions to hard drugs and alcohol. The slim chapter on High Times is almost entirely devoted to slagging me off.
Whee! ceremony for world peace.

The Whee! festival had just happened and made a lot of money. Over 15,000 attendees and over 300 vendors. Thanks in part to Edison, the event was killed, although I was able to revive it the following year only because High Times had stiffed the landowner for $5k we owed him and he filed a lawsuit which he agreed to drop only if I came back and did another so he could collect phone numbers on all the vendors. His plan was to continue the festival without High Times or me involved. They massively overpaid the volunteer staff tens of thousands but stiffed the landowner. Why? Because he invited Judy Baker into his house to have a discussion with her without my attendance. I suspected he was a tweaker as a lot of his hangers on certainly were, and I had never been invited into his ramshackle house. Apparently Baker was so disgusted she wanted him punished for having forced her to sit on one of his filthy chairs.

After the Freedom Fighter movement took off and almost everyone thought Ed Hassle was really Ed Rosenthal, it irked me so I decided I would kill off Hassle a second time, even though he represented Flick’s best comic ever. Unwinding the history of the Freedom Fighters was a bit complex and I thought the easiest way would be in the form of an interview. The interview mostly concerned economic and environmental benefits of hemp.
Edison portrayed this interview as an advertisement for myself, implied I put myself on the cover (never did) and went on for pages ridiculing my attempt to create a national peace ceremony that would recognize cannabis as the sacrament of peace culture. He also ridiculed my belief 420 could help legalization and that the code had been created by high school kids in San Rafael. Instead, he claimed I was trying to cast some friends as the originators for my own selfish reasons and nobody knew who really created it.
Mike Edison.

Obviously, Kennedy hit the roof after the interview came out and was still talking about it seven years later, but Kennedy had said nothing to me. It wasn’t until Edison published his revenge book that I realized the interview started Kennedy’s campaign to fire me. Maybe because I threw shade on NORML, who had been blocking rallies and protests because they felt such events were counterproductive. Kennedy didn’t want NORML participating in the Hash Bash initially, and NORML sent a cease and desist to have their name removed from flyers that year. That all changed after the Hash Bash began drawing tens of thousands to Ann Arbor.

Rosenbaum was Angleton’s mouthpiece in the media.

Many years earlier, Ron Rosenbaum had written a 10,000 word interview with Kennedy that positively crawled up his ass and stayed there. Now this was surely an advertisement for Kennedy, who charged $60k to handle cannabis cases, more than twice the going rate, You’d be lucky to see him in court as all cases were handled by his assistant, unless you were super rich, high on the social ladder or a celebrity. In some cases, it was about negotiating a quick plea deal and keeping the retainer.

Shaping and molding public opinion is a multi-generational operation conducted at the highest levels of national security, which secretly manipulates media through strategically placed influencers. For a brief time in the 1960s, an independently-owned counterculture media appeared, and was peppered with intel influencers upon inception. I was 15 when I joined the counterculture revolution and soon created my own newspaper, The Tin Whistle. For this, I was targeted by State Narcotics Agents, who captured my fingerprints and terrorized me with fake charges. Over time, the counterculture media became dominated by intel influencers. Walter Bowart of the East Village Other certainly comes to mind. He thanked MI6 super spook William Stephenson in the forward to his mostly fake expose on MK/Ultra. A lot of journalists who had been investigating CIA links to the JFK assassination suddenly veered into Area 51 and evidence of alien visitations. (Jim Marrs being just one of many.)
Over the decades, I’ve watched the percentage of Americans who believe the CIA assassinated JFK drop precipitously, a result of the media’s disinformation. New Times magazine appeared supposedly as the alternative to the CIA-connected Time-Life complex, but the magazine was created by a former exec. of Time-Life who brought in the son of a Time-Life, Inc. president to edit the magazine, as well as a Yale grad with a pipeline into James Angleton’s office named Rosenbaum to write critical features. Rosenbaum had attached himself to Tom Forcade before High Times was created. He helped cover up Angleton’s role in Mary Meyer’s murder and destruction of her diary. By 1974, the alternative media was almost completely compromised with the notable exception of High Times. But the intel influencers were already positioned in the shadows, ready to take command when the opportunity afforded. Rosenbaum was contributing under his own name and also writing a column on cannabis. In a nod to British intelligence, the columns were credited to “R”.
After Tom’s death Rosenbaum penned a cover story on how pot was “over” and running was the new drug. At the same time, New Times closed down and the staff switched to a magazine called “Runner.”
Slowly, America changed direction from trying to change the world to trying to change themselves. The “Me” generation didn’t emerge spontaneously. It was riding a sled.
Meanwhile, influencers who had been investigating the falsehoods of the Warren Commission switched sides, announcing anything but Oswald alone did it was a deluded conspiracy theory. Intel operative Jerry Rubin traded in his Pancho Villa outfit for Brooks Brothers. Rosenbaum published stories on how Danny Casolaro committed suicide. He also helped cover-up the role of some Yale Boners in JFK’s assassination. Intel’s multi-generational disinfo strategy involves getting their influencers out in front of the pack first so they can better lead the pack off a cliff.
In case you missed what happened down the road: Kennedy squandered millions in a failed attempt to dominate the hemp industry while playing defense against me for decades, refusing to permit me to execute another idea and blocking my content. Meanwhile, I wasn’t allowed to participate in any of his hemp-related schemes, although everything was based on something I’d brought to the company. I’d been trying to raise consciousness, but it became clear all Kennedy wanted was to make more money. When I’d finally had enough and requested a buy-out on my ten percent of the company, he seized my archives and threatened litigation on me. Years later, when the company failed to honor the measly monthly payout, I sued and got my archives and my lawyer’s fees back, along with every cent they still owed me. But it took two years of stonewalling by High Times to get justice..

The Bubblehash Wars

Ed Hassle’s Freedom Fighters started as an attempt at a High Times fan club, but it took off so fast I suddenly had some access to a promotional budget. After I published the interview announcing Hassle was being phased out because the Freedom Fighters had become a become a serious political force, Kennedy began searching for any excuse to fire me. I had also announced my intention to investigate the JFK and MLK assassinations. What many today don’t realize is the hemp movement started as a conspiracy theory in which cannabis had been secretly made illegal everywhere so it wouldn’t compete against plastic and other oil products.
One day a sinister letter arrived addressed to Ed Hassle and postmarked Atlanta, Georgia, containing a threat against President Bush and signed “a freedom fighter.” I knew immediately this was an attempt by someone to set me up. I got hundreds of letters from activists, but none were like this one. The letter was written on heavy stock with a sharpie and seemed the product of a disciplined mind, nothing like the stoner scrawls I got from many activists. The letter also indicated a CC had been sent to NORML. Real activists didn’t CC hand-written correspondence.
In hindsight it’s somewhat obvious Kennedy instigated the letter to destroy the Freedom Fighters. Eventually, I was called into a meeting with the trustees where they demanded I turn the mailing list (the biggest in the movement) over to NORML. Thus ended my access to thousands of volunteers, funds for travel, and the campaign to create pot rallies everywhere quickly ran out of steam, although the established rallies continued to grow without the Freedom Fighters. We had been organizing some of the biggest political events of our time, and although this went ignored by the national media, the plan to get Freedom Fighters wearing tricorns talking about hemp on local TV was successful. After NORML took over, all the street theater ended. After the Secret Service visited the Atlanta focalizer, followed by a break-in to his house a few days later, he resigned, followed by a number of other state leaders. Our last newsletter was Vol. 4/#1, indicating we were in our fourth year when dissolved.
There are two streams of disinfo locked in endless flame wars online, and both slag off Nevil unfairly. I never testified before the Operation Green Merchant grand jury in New Orleans, and neither did Nevil. Nevil never told me Dave Watson dropped a dime on him. What Nevil told me was that Watson was Sam’s real name and he was working with Australian law enforcement to create a genetic database for tracking illegal grow operations for the purpose of enhancing sentencing. Similar to Wernard, Nevil cut off all contact with Watson when he realized the scope of what Watson was doing.
Arjan Roskum was the first to tell me Sam and Watson were the same person.

Later, a Dutch journalist/politician investigated Watson and discovered he held an exclusive government contract to grow cannabis for medical research in Holland. Apparently, Watson also had permission from the DEA. Watson had been busted in Santa Cruz on March 20, 1985, bailed out, and departed for the Netherlands with a suitcase of 250,000 seeds.

A Dutch radio show would continue the research by interviewing a Santa Cruz sheriff who confirmed Watson’s arrest on cannabis charges. I wrote a blog “The Mysterious Mr. Watson” that drew out a lot of these characters, although I had to ban some when flame wars erupted. The original blog comments were lost when High Times threatened a lawsuit regarding my website, although I did retrieve the blog itself through the WayBack Machine. Nevil was well aware the snitch who turned him in was his remailer in Michigan, Ray Anthony Cogo. He provided a link to Cogo’s grand jury testimony.
Ray Cogo.

Cogo responded by claiming Nevil was MI6 and I was CIA and he turned over hundreds of names of seed buyers (even though Nevil instructed him to destroy those records immediately after mailing to protect the customer’s identity) in order to shut down our intel op. Obviously, Cogo bartered those names and addresses as his get-out-jail-free card. Nowhere in his testimony is any mention of MI6 or CIA, and if Cogo’s real motivation was exposing spooks why not go to the press with that story? In fact, Cogo has been offered many times to discuss his testimony with a podcaster and always refuses.

Very little of what you read about this online is unbiased. The pro-Watson sock-puppets and supporters claim Watson was never busted and he is a true hippie at heart whose life was transformed by LSD, and not the ruthless capitalist he really is.
The pro-Cogo camp is very small and peppered only by kooks from intel’s Tin Foil Hat Patrol, as anyone can easily find Cogo’s testimony to the grand jury, but they create just as much noise and confusion as the pro-Watson camp. The first person to expose Watson’s bust in print in America and accuse him of being a government agent was Joe Pietry, who also claims I am a government agent. (File under: get your influencer out in front and run off a cliff.) There never was any evidence Nevil nor I were intel influencers. In fact, I’ve devoted much of my life to exposing real ones inside the counterculture, most notably Kennedy, the lawyer who ran the Weather Underground, stole High Times, threw out the mag’s investigative journalism, and ran that once-esteemed publication into the ground while sucking out all the profit.


Blame it on Bones

Skull and Bones has developed a reputation with some as having a membership that is heavily tilted towards the “Power Elite.” Regarding qualifications for membership, Lanny Davis, writing in the 1968 Yale yearbook, wrote: If the society had a good year, this is what the “ideal” group will consist of:

“A football captain; chairman of the Yale Daily News; a conspicuous radical; a Whiffenpoof (Yale choir); a swimming captain; a notorious drunk with a 94 average; a film-maker; a political columnist; a religious group leader; a chairman of the Lit; a foreigner; a ladies’ man with two motorcycles; an ex-service man; a black, and, if there are enough to go around; a guy nobody else in the group had heard of, ever …”

For much of its history Skull and Bones membership was almost exclusively limited to white Protestant males. Catholics had some success attaining memberships; Jews less so.

Sports was the means by which excluded groups eventually entered Skull and Bones, through its practice of tapping standout athletes. Some star football players were the first Jew (Al Hessberg, class of 1938), and African-American (Levi Jackson, class of 1950, who turned down the invitation).

Yale became coeducational in 1969, yet Skull & Bones remained all-male until 1992. An attempt to tap women for membership by the Bones class of 1971 was opposed by Bones alumni, who dubbed them the “bad club.”

“The issue,”as it came to be called by Bonesmen, was debated for decades. The class of 1991 tapped seven female members for membership in the next year’s class, so alumni changed the locks on the Tomb, and the Boners had to meet at the building of Manuscript Society.

A mail-in vote by members decided 368-320 to permit going co-ed, but a group of alumni led by William F. Buckley obtained a temporary restraining order to block the move. Other alumni, such as John Kerry and R. Inslee Clark, Jr., spoke out in favor of admitting women, and the dispute ended up on The New York Times editorial page. A second vote of alumni in October 1991 agreed to accept the Class of 1992, and the lawsuit was dropped.

One member of the 1991 class wrote to alumni, “Being a part of Bones is often an embarrassment, a source of ridicule and occasionally a good way to lose a friend … Very rarely is the Bones still seen as an honor, and never is it seen to represent the mainstream of Yale.”

When fomenting counterintelligence operations, the initial plans do not stop with the essential deed but stretch far into the future. Influencers and rabbit holes must be created. The clash between influencers will be orchestrated. That is done to divide people into one of two groups, both secretly controlled by counterintelligence. The legends created become “fact” over a few decades, while the real whistleblowers are de-toothed and disappeared.

As the first person to publish a national magazine article on how and why the CIA killed JFK, I became an influencer who needed to be de-toothed and disappeared, which is exactly what happened. Many years ago, a writer from Vice in Brooklyn took me to lunch at Cafe Luxembourg. The editor-in-chief was following my research on JFK and Lincoln assassinations and wanted to do a major expose on my research. Two days later, I was informed the story was off, and that editor had been fired.

When I wrote my first article, I was aware of Bones and their role in the event. Specifically, I knew Bonesman Prescott Bush had misdirected a lot of journalists, as well as at least one film crew. He played a major role in controlling the story from behind the curtain.

My article centered on James Jesus Angleton as primary conspirator, although I assumed he was working with the Dulles and Rockefeller brothers.

I don’t know where I picked it up, but supposedly, Angleton did not pledge to Bones. He would have been class of 1940. But when The Good Shepherd came out about his career, the film made it clear he was a Boner. Now there is no evidence of which society he tapped to, if any. If you have any, please put a link to the evidence, or remain silent.

Angelton was really a Brit at heart, raised in England’s posh schools. He was half Mexican and raised a devout Catholic.

Bones class of 1940 included McGeorge Bundy, who was JFK’s National Security Advisor. He played a key role in getting us into the Vietnam War, something JFK wanted to prevent. His advice to JFK was erratic during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Andrew Orrick was also Bones 1940. He went to Hasting College of Law in San Francisco after graduating, the alma mater of Michael John Kennedy. After running Nixon’s campaign for governor of California, Orrick became administer of the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission. Orrick may have been tapped because he hit the longest home run in Yale baseball history, a record that likely no longer stands.

Towson Hoopes, class of 1944, Under Secretary of the Air Force.

Barry Zorthian, class of 1941, was US press officer in Saigon for 4.5 years, all during the early stages of the war.

John Chafee, class of 1947, Secretary of the Navy.

Charles Whitehouse, class of 1947, ambassador to Laos and Thailand and secret CIA agent.

George Bush was class of 1948. He was running the supply depots used for terror ops inside Cuba. Also a secret CIA agent.

William Sloane Coffin, class of 1949, clergyman and leading anti-war, anti-nuclear activist. Also a secret CIA agent.

John Kerry, founder of Vietnam Vets Against the War, went on to lead the coverup of the Iran-Contra-Cocaine scandal, in which Republicans were able to remove Jimmy Carter, who was pushing renewable energy and world peace. Obviously a secret intelligence operative.

This is just a tiny sampling of the power of Bones, and you can’t ignore the fact they were put in strategic positions on both sides of the war. The possible connection between Angleton, Orrick and Communist lawyer Kennedy (who ran the terrorist Weather Underground network before stealing High Times from the employees and running it into the ground while siphoning profits into his bank account) needs to be examined. It might explain why Kennedy began working to get rid of me right after I published that article about the CIA and Bones killing JFK.

William Morgan’s Murder

In 1826, William Morgan applied to join the Freemason lodge in Batavia, New York, but the application was strangely rejected, possibly because of some recent financial difficulties. As an accepted mason from a distant lodge, Morgan took great umbrage against the Batavia lodge and decided to publish an expose of the society and reveal its secrets. In order to become a mason, Morgan had taken an oath never to reveal the secrets of the order (upon penalty of death). After quickly writing a manuscript, Morgan found a nearby publisher willing to take on the project.

William Morgan.

It’s no secret Masonry played a leading role in our revolution. George Washington was the most influential mason in North America, as well as the wealthiest landowner. Masonry was spread largely through the British military and through the world’s second largest corporation, the British East India Company, whose stock was closely held by the ruling oligarchy of the empire. In the late 1700s, however, the empire was on shaky ground. The East India Company, modeled after (and designed to compete with) the Dutch East India Company, was losing the trade war against the Dutch, who were jousting on the high seas with the British Navy. The British devised a scheme to capture a monopoly in tea away from the Dutch, but that plan backfired and created a huge glut of tea, most of which seemed destined to rot in warehouses. In response, the company got a special exemption from Parliament to ship tea straight to the Colonies for distribution. Even with a small tax, the tea was priced to undersell the smuggled Dutch tea that had greatly undercut the British prices.

There was a masonic lodge in Boston that organized a tea dump that sparked our revolution. What seems odd in hindsight is how this insignificant tax was deployed as a springboard to incite intense hostility against the crown. Wouldn’t it have made more sense just to boycott the English tea rather than destroying it? Strangely, that dumping saved the East India Company a fortune because the insurance company covered the losses. England had the power to crush the Colonial rebellion, but chose not to and soon capitulated after some misguided and poorly planned expeditions. Clearly, England’s attention was on Europe and the East. After the French and Dutch were defeated, the Russians and English engaged in a “great game” to outflank each other through the spread of spies and secret societies, and Masonry played a key role in this game.

The American Revolution was planned and instigated by some of the richest merchants conspiring with the biggest bond holders (bankers), and the purpose was removing English oversight while preserving the economic status quo. Most masonic lodges stayed loyal to the Crown, despite masonry’s celebration of liberty and equality, but the revolt was organized through a handful of rebel lodges. Since there were prominent masons on both sides of the conflict, on Tuesday nights all sides were welcome to gather, even if it was the eve of battle.

But after Morgan announced his book’s imminent publication, the publisher’s printshop mysteriously burned to the ground, and Morgan was railroaded into jail on imaginary charges. The police, judge and jury assembled were all Masons, which created controversy that soon spread like wildfire. Suddenly, some Masons showed up at the jail and bailed Morgan out and he was never seen again.

The outcry over Morgan’s murder created the first third party, the Anti-masonic Party. Meanwhile, citizen investigators began looking into Masonry and discovered another secret society was embedded deeper inside. George Washington had been well aware of the recently-established Illuminati infesting masonry in 1776 and warned of its arrival on our shores in his correspondence. But Washington probably wasn’t aware the Illuminati had been created by Jesuits during a time when a international outcry against Jesuits was sweeping across Europe.

Around this same time, less than 60 miles from where Morgan was murdered, Freemason Joseph Smith announced the discovery of two golden tablets that proved Jesus had visited North America. Upstate New York was undergoing a wave of folk spiritualism, and many fake mediums were claiming magic powers, so Smith didn’t really stick out initially. But having funds and a powerful backer at his disposal helped Smith immensely in building a flock of followers willing to support his vision of an American Zion. Not so strangely, the rituals of Mormonism look a lot like the rituals of Masonry. In a strange twist, Morgan’s widow married Joseph Smith and moved with him to Illinois, where he was murdered by a mob while flashing the masonic sign of distress.

Two other masonic-style lodges soon appeared to quickly exert great national influence, one in New Haven (1832) and the other New York (1843). Both could be suspected as possible Illuminati operations. The New Haven lodge was created by William Russell, cousin to the heir to the North American opium cartel. Russell visited Germany during the summer of his junior year at Yale, and when he returned and discovered Phi Beta Kappa had gone public, created the Order of Skull & Bones, which was soon running Yale. The Boners then moved into strategic positions in finance, education and government.

The New York lodge became known as B’nai B’rith, and was established on the Lower East Side by 12 recently-arrived German Jews. Strangely, these two secret societies would play key roles in the coming Civil War, just as a couple Masonic lodges had played key roles in fomenting the revolution. During the war, the center of American finance moved from Philadelphia to Boston and Wall Street. The war created the Robber Barons, who captured a stranglehold on the economy. A handful of men suddenly owned just about everything and it’s been that way ever since.


The real story behind the founding of the Illuminati

Unfortunately, the Illuminati has become a counterintelligence buzz meme deployed by the CIA’s Tin Foil Hat Patrol to confuse people and divert attention away from some real men standing behind the curtain. Our history books ignore the fact that history is largely the study of secret societies, and the CIA is just one of many, and the history of intelligence is long and bloody.

It all seems to have started with the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, otherwise known as the Templars, who began with nine members in 1129 and the official endorsement of the Catholic church. They grew enormously over the centuries and became the central bank of Europe with standing armies, merchant fleets and fortified castles. The Templars built most of the great cathedrals.

In 1198, another society appeared out of Germany, also recognized by the Pope of Rome, the Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary in Jerusalem, otherwise known as the Teutonic Knights, and they went on to establish the kingdom of Prussia.

After the Templars became the most powerful global corporation, and began making plans to establish their own kingdom in southern France in imitation of the Teutonic Knights, the King of France became greatly alarmed. He devised a plot to move the Papacy to France and then conspired to outlaw the order and seize their assets in one fell swoop, while killing or imprisoning all members on Friday the 13th in 1307. This is why Friday the 13th has magical connotations.

The Templars and Teutonics created initiatory societies with secret rituals and degrees, all under the direction of a grandmaster of the order, typically a position held for life. These magical societies were influenced by the Pythagoreans who had once enjoyed immense popularity before the Catholic Church began persecuting paganism. Pythagoras studied with Zoroastrians, the greatest mathematicians and astronomers, and the Zoroastrians had been influenced by Scythians, and adopted their sacramental and inspirational use of cannabis.

All original knight myths as well as the story of the holy grail and the round table can be traced to the Scythians. King Arthur is an update on Heracles.

After the Templars were roasted alive at the stake, various secret societies flourished all over Europe, and the most powerful one became known as the Freemasons. The oldest-known lodge is in Scotland and traces the order to 1598, although it could have been established as early as 1425. There was much speculation at the time the Templars might have slipped into masonry in order to survive.

In 1534, seven Spanish noblemen with military backgrounds established the Society of Jesus, known as the Jesuits, and this order assumed fantastic power, eclipsing even the mighty Templars, at which point the Jesuits began attracting persecutions all over Europe, starting in Portugal. Paranoia against them became so great eventually the Pope outlawed the order in 1773, and they fled to sanctuary in Russia for a few years while still managing to hold onto many assets through fronting operations.

Two years later, the Equestrian, Secular and Chapterial Order of Saint Joachim was established in Bavaria by 14 German nobles. Some were Catholic, some Lutheran, some Freemasons, some Rosicrucians. Their possible goal was the unification of Germany, which was splintered into 500 separate kingdoms. These knights were dedicated to spreading religious tolerance. It doesn’t take much imagination to realize that tolerance might include letting the Jesuits back into Europe. Germany had been divided between Lutherans and Catholics for centuries, resulting in almost constant warfare, so religious tolerance was a popular concept.

The following year after the appearance of the Joachim knights, the Covenant of Perfectibility was created at a Jesuit-owned university in Bavaria by a professor of Catholic law named Adam Weishaupt, an orphan raised by Jesuits. The name of Weishaupt’s group was eventually changed to Order of the Illuminati. Several Knights of Joachim were founding members, which certainly guaranteed tremendous influence and potential resources.

Weishaupt was a master counterintelligence strategist, and his society was designed as a secret nest inside Freemasonry.

“The great strength of our Order lies in it’s concealment,” wrote Weishaupt, “let it never appear in any place in it’s own name, but always covered by another name, and another occupation. None is fitter than the three lower degrees of Freemasonry, the public is accustomed to it, expects little from it, and therefore takes little notice of it. Next to this, the form of a learned or literary society is best suited to our purpose. By establishing Reading Societies, and subscription libraries, and taking these under our direction, and supplying them through our labours, we may turn the public mind which way we will.”

Weishaupt suggested they secretly enlist the most attractive members of the opposite sex possible into the operation, not as full-fledged members but as secret operatives, what’s known today in spook world as “honey traps.”

Weishaupt sought virtuous and non-virtuous members, and kept those two groups unaware of the other. In fact, most members only knew their handler, and once a person joined, Weishaupt was given details on their background, desires and ambitions, and some were immediately elevated, guaranteeing their lifelong devotion to his order. The Templars, Teutonics, and Jesuits had pioneered the art of counterintelligence, and Weishaupt may have studied them all. But he had no background in ritual, and launched his society prematurely with a plethora of degrees before he had any rituals on paper. He reached out to an experienced mason to invent the rituals.

When some of Weishaupt’s methods were revealed to the public, there was a panic against secret societies in Bavaria and all were outlawed, although the ban was repeated several times, indicating it had a slippery hold on the situation and it’s possible the ban only served to make the group more notorious and more popular, just as it’s possible Weishaupt was a Jesuit front all along. Eventually, Weishaupt announced the dissolution of the order and retired to live near the estate of one of the Joachim Knights.

But after the French revolution, the leading Jesuit in France declared the Jacobins who fomented the revolution had been manipulated by the Illuminati, a charge repeated by a Christian historian in Scotland. In fact, various reading rooms around France had helped foment the revolution, just as Weishaupt had suggested they do.

In more modern times the Knights of Malta and Opus Dei have achieved immense influence, power and wealth inside the Catholic Church, whose mysterious banking operations are kept heavily cloaked.

Antony Sutton

In the 1980s, Antony Sutton would write America’s Secret Establishment, a book that revealed Yale University’s Order of Skull & Bones was likely a chapter of the Illuminati.

There are many secret societies, and many initiatory orders with religious connections and untangling this complex world is the key to opening the curtain on the men pushing the buttons on the Wizard of Oz. Unfortunately, almost everything written on this subject is fabricated as a diversion away from the truth.


1478 — The Spanish Inquisition attacks the last vestiges of Manichaeism that had survived in a quasi-Christian form.

1509 — Inspired by tales of Camelot, Íñigo López de Loyola (Ignatius of Loyola), takes up arms for the Duke of Najera in Spain at age 18; wounded in battle, he studies the lives of the Saints while hospitalized; inspired by Francis of Assisi he develops guided meditation techniques while on pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

1517 — The Reformation begins at the University of Wittenberg, Germany.

1525 — Inquisitor General Alonso Manrique de Lara issues an edict against alumbrados, who believe enlightenment brings a state of impeccability that allows indulgence in sinful acts without staining the soul.

1534 — After graduating from the University of Alcala in his early thirties (where he studied theology and Latin) Ignatius falls in with a group of alumbrados and is called before the Inquisitor General to be grilled on his beliefs.

1539 — Ignatius founds the Society of Jesus (The Jesuits) with six students at the University of Paris, all of whom have military experience; they quickly create schools and send missionaries around the world; and lead retreats that practice group silence, followed by guided group meditations. They become the Catholic Church’s vanguard against the Reformation, but begin to alarm Europe’s oligarchies with the speed with which they dominate trade and economic development, a lot of which stems from profits taken from the New World.

1614 — Three anonymous documents are circulated through Europe reporting on secret powers attained by mystics; they are all written as fake news, but become widely accepted as fact, launching the Protestant-connected Rosicrucian movement which is infested with fake mystics who deploy magic shows to lure high-ranking Freemasons and their wives into their staged seance psyops.

1773 — Bending to royal pressures, the Pope of Rome begins a campaign of suppression against the Jesuits to stem their growing influence.

1776 — The Illuminati is founded by Adam Weishaupt, a professor of canon law at a Jesuit university in Ingolstadt, Germany.

1777 — Weishaupt joins Freemasonry in order to secretly spread his society.

1787 — Illuminati banned four times, some internal correspondence published, bans have little impact other than driving Weishaupt into retirement

1797 — History of Jacobinism by Augustin Barruel accuses Illuminati of fomenting the Reign of Terror as a massive psyop, a book written by the leading Jesuit of France; while Proofs of a Conspiracy by John Robison published in Scotland by a Protestant contains much of the same accusations.

1798 — An Illuminati scare spreads through New England, mostly through Protestant pulpits.

1818 — 20-year-old Mary Shelley writes Frankenstein, set in Ingolstadt; it is intended as an update on Prometheus and draws on the city’s reputation for Illuminist intrigues.

1826 — William Morgan murdered in Batavia, New York, after publishing an expose of Freemasonry.

1830 — Weishaupt dies but not before being reconciled with the Catholic Church, indicating his split with them may have been staged.

1832 — Order of Skull & Bones founded at Yale University after William Huntington Russell visits Germany and joins a college fraternity there during summer school. Skull & Bones rituals will mirror those of the original Illuminati.

1836 — Russell creates a military prep school in New Haven to prepare young men to serve as officers for a coming Civil War.

1837 — Funded by Russell, John Brown devotes himself to the destruction of slavery through violence, and sparks the war Russell was agitating for.

1880 — Prussian police spy Theodor Reuss revives the Illuminati in Munich, but the name of the order is soon changed to Ordo Templi Orientis (OTO).

After the Illuminati were exposed in the late 1770s, and found in possession of all sorts of devious spy tech, the real secrets of the order were shipped to the King of Sweden to protect them. These documents were eventually returned to a Masonic lodge in Bavaria, and were eventually seized by the Nazis, who briefly imprisoned the head of the OTO, and banned all masonic lodges, unless they pledged loyalty to Hitler.

Origins of the Radical Left

Raskin and Barnet

You might think Washington DC think tanks are conservative by nature, but the first one created is decidedly leftist: the Institute for Policy Studies (IPS), founded by former concert pianist Marcus Raskin and Boston lawyer Richard Barnet in 1963.

Strangely, Raskin was an aide to McGeorge Bundy, while Barnet worked for John J. McCloy at the State Department.

You’d be hard-pressed to find two more well-connected members of the oligarchy than Bundy and McCloy. Bundy was the Bonesman offspring of two powerful Boston Brahmin clans who rose to head the CIA-connected Ford Foundation. He was an intelligence officer during WWII and afterwards co-wrote Bonesman Henry Stimson’s autobiography. In 1949, he was appointed secretary of the powerful Council on Foreign Relations and began having private meetings with General Dwight Eisenhower, who would soon be president, and Allen Dulles, who Eisenhower would put in charge of intelligence operations.

These meetings no doubt involved David Rockefeller, who would soon chair a committee to completely reorganize the government. In 1954, Rockefeller was made special assistant on psychological war, and the following year he created the Planning Coordination Group for running covert counterintelligence responses to national security issues.

McCloy and Bundy in private session with LBJ.

McCloy served as head of the World Bank and became a member of the highly sensitive Warren Commission. Before WWII, McCloy was North American attorney for I.G. Farben, largest corporation in Europe, and after the war he was Bonesman Stimson’s aide when Stimson devised the Black Eagle Fund and disappeared billions in Nazi and Japanese stolen gold, which was divvied up into hundreds of secret funds in banks around the world, while dividends and interest used to topple democracies unfavorable to Wall Street interests, while fomenting right and left-wing terror squads to drive the dialectical confrontations.

The US military HQ was set-up inside Farben’s massive complex, which strangely was never bombed during the war, even though it represented the nerve center of Germany’s industrial and chemical operations, perhaps due to the close relations between Farben and Rockefeller’s Standard Oil, companies that did business throughout the war. Farben quickly became Hitler’s biggest corporate booster and financial sponsor, while its in-house intelligence network became the brains behind the SS and Gestapo. In fact, Farben had been the brainchild of John Foster Dulles, Eisenhower’s  Secretary of State, and Dulles helped design the immense complex housing over 200,000 workers.

I find it disturbing the US high command occupied the same offices where Zyclon B was designed, and immediately began transferring 700 Nazi scientists (as well as many sadistic war criminals) into North and South America with new identities, a highly secret project called “Paperclip” that was greatly assisted by the Vatican, whose bank was cut into the action on the Black Eagle Fund through Opus Dei operatives in the Philippines, which is why you’ll find so many Malta Knights at the top of the CIA today, and why Opus Dei commands so much power inside the Vatican Bank. McCloy was put in charge of Germany and swiftly pardoned any Nazis they wanted recruited.

Now what are the odds aides of these immensely powerful insiders (whose families were long-time Republicans) would create a center of energy on radical activity in America? Whenever I find operations like this, I suspect spooks at work.

Funding for IPS came from two sources: Philip Stern, heir to the Sears fortune in Chicago, and banker James Warburg, whose father designed the Federal Reserve, a privately-held banking cartel that rules our money supply and sets interest rates. Warburg’s uncle, Jacob Schiff, financed the Japanese attack on Russia and was partners with Bonesman E.H. Harriman. Schiff’s father was the primary broker for the Rothschilds and the family played a leading role in funding Zionism. These deep connections indicate IPS was no accidental grassroots emanation, but a conscious construction of a system it was designed to attack, which is standard spook operational procedure because if there’s going to be something attacking you, it’s best if you secretly manipulate it so there’s no unintended harm to your bottom line.

I suspect IPS appeared shortly after the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) released the Port Huron Statement because SDS was gathering momentum quickly and threatening a socialist youth revolt. However, by 1969, SDS was shattered by internal divisions fomented by undercover agents, while its center of energy was stolen by a small group of fanatics who supported terror tactics and murder. They called themselves “The Weathermen” after a Bob Dylan song and they were funded by IPS. The Weathermen destroyed the student youth movement by driving it off a cliff.

“I was right there,” says Patti Astor. ” SDS was really gathering steam and poised to become a real force and the Weather Underground blew the whole thing to shit. It was a serious, like almost a body snatching scenario, where one day everything was fine, and the next…people you KNEW were screaming about getting in cells and tons of crazy shit.”

The true leaders of the Weather Underground were Bernadine Dohrn and Bill Ayers. Ayers’ father was immensely wealthy. He was CEO of Commonwealth Edison and sat on many boards, including Sears’, where he likely would have been seated next to IPS sugar daddy Philip Stern.

Peter Weiss.

Dohrn also had a privileged upbringing in Minneapolis and ended up at the Rockefeller-funded University of Chicago Law School, where she became the first student organizer for the communist-infested National Lawyers Guild (NLG). In fact, IPS was run by Yale law school grad Peter Weiss, an Austrian-born lawyer and prominent leader inside NLG, although his wife Cora also seems to have played a prominent role.

Although they deny it today, Dohrn and Ayers were the most blood-thirsty instigators and always ready to up the stakes. Dohrn’s most famous quote came at the “Wargasm” they organized in Flint, Michigan. In reference to the recent murder of Sharon Tate, she announced: “First they killed those pigs, then they ate dinner in the same room with them, then they even shoved a fork into the pig Tate’s stomach! Wild!” In homage to Hitler, she created a three-fingered fork salute. They painted Manson as culture hero and role model.

Leary copped his guru style from John Griggs, founder of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love.

When Timothy Leary was busted in California and jailed for ten years for possessing two joints, President Richard Nixon already considered him the most dangerous man in America. Leary was a brilliant psychologist and designed a personality profile quiz he was forced to take when he checked into prison. The problem with Leary, however, is that he was already blanketed by spooks when he arrived in California. The Weathermen seized on his incarceration as an opportunity to bust Leary out and whisk him to Africa, and they employed the escape as a publicity stunt to enhance their visibility.

Dorhn declares total war on America.

Dohrn wore a button on her blouse: “cunnilingus is cool, fellatio is fun” while showing off massive cleavage. Steve Tappis requested she button up and she responded by pulling out a breast. “You like this tit?” she said. “Take it.”  Eventually, participation in group orgies became compulsory inside the Weather Underground, resulting in widespread genital infections known as “weather crud.” In this regard, they resembled the Process Church of Final Judgment, who also deployed drugs and sex games to reprogram the flock.

On February 12, 1970, two bombs went off in the Berkeley Police station parking lot during a shift change, allegedly to maximize the death count, yet thankfully no officers were killed. But four days later another bomb went off during a shift change at a station in San Francisco, and this one did succeed in murdering an innocent officer.

Isn’t it strange that when Leary was captured and brought back to prison with his sentence greatly enhanced, he caved and told everything he knew about the Weathermen who’d broken him out of jail and whisked him to Africa with a fake passport. Funny, though, nothing ever came of his confession. Not a single arrest nor interrogation. Bizarre, considering the Weathermen are supposed to be the FBI’s number one target.

It gets even stranger because Ayers and Dohrn eventually became tenured professors in Chicago, holding down high-paying gigs at major universities. It’s unfathomable how two terrorists on the most-wanted list could live a life on the lam for over a decade and then emerge in 1980 and serve no jail time. In fact, Dohrn almost immediately got a gig with the most prestigious law firm in Chicago (the same one that hired Obama and Michelle). Most charges against the Weathermen had already been dropped. This is the opposite of what typically happens when cop killers come to court.

The most prominent spokesman for IPS is Noam Chomsky, who is a 9/11 conspiracy denier who faithfully supports the official cover-story. In fact, Chomsky claims the reason he knows 9/11 wasn’t an inside job is because if it had been, the hijackers would have been sheep-dipped as Iraqi and not Saudi. This position makes zero sense and ignores the close personal relationship between the Bonesmen Bush family and the ruling Saudi royal houses. The other primary supporter of the official story in the media is John Foster “Chip” Berlet, who used to oversee a propaganda network funded through the Ford Foundation.

Berlet was also a prominent figure inside the National Lawyers Guild (as well as the CIA-sponsored National Student Association) and Berlet was apparently an undercover FBI informant in Chicago for a time, and he seems to have some sort of relationship with the Mossad because he frequently appears in the media as an expert on their operations.

Berlet’s stockbroker father, Col. George Numa Berlet, Jr., named his son after John Foster Dulles, former Secretary of State and head of the most powerful law firm in America, Sullivan & Cromwell. It was John Foster Dulles who created I.G. Farben by convincing six German corporations to merge, and as bait, Dulles arranged huge loans from Wall Street to seal the deal. Farben was designed largely to mimic operations of Standard Oil, which became a major investor in Farben, joining Max Warburg and the DuPonts. Today, Berlet has become a leader in helping foment a new inquisition, which brands political heretics as lunatics deserving incarceration and forced medication simply for not accepting the official stories on 9/11 and the JFK assassination. He dubbed this imaginary mental disorder as: “conspiracism.”

The IPS works hand-in-glove with the oldest magazine in America, The Nation, run by Katrina vanden Heuvel, who sits on the IPS board and is also a member of the Council on Foreign Relations. Her father William vanden Heuvel was a protege of William Donovan, who headed the Office of Strategic Services, precursor of the CIA. Even more telling, vanden Heuvel was the personal attorney for Bonesman W.A. Harriman.

Maybe you can see the incredible tight-knit relationship between all these characters and why I suspect staged confrontations and propaganda psyops are in play. This is the real world, a spook-infested wilderness of mirrors, where up is down and black is white.

Sugar, opium and cotton

In 1823, Captain Warren Delano, 24, sailed to Canton, China, in search of adventure. Seven years later, Delano was a senior partner at Russell & Company, America’s biggest opium trader, and his descendents would rise straight to the top of North America’s oligarchy. Of course, the lion’s share of the opium trade belonged to the world’s most powerful corporation at that time, the Honorable East India Company (HEIC), chartered by Queen Elizabeth in 1600, the same year Freemasonry appeared as a major force. And yes, those two are linked throughout history, one visible and the other completely invisible.

William Huntington Russell was cousin to the heir of the great Russell opium fortune and educated at Yale University. In fact, he was valedictorian of 1833. While at Yale, Russell spent a summer in Germany, where he was inducted into a Masonic-style society known as “The Order.” When he returned to New Haven, he discovered Phi Beta Kappa was going public, so he launched the secret Skull & Bones society based off the The Order he’d discovered in Germany.

There’s some strong connections between the slave and opium trade because both were considered sleazy and not discussed in polite society, and both reaped profits rivaling King Sugar, and both involved shipping fleets. Soon, thanks to the invention of the cotton gin, King Cotton could sit at the dais alongside the monarchs of opium and sugar. But it’s important to realize cotton and sugar were initially dependent on the African slave trade, so while Southerners were saving money with free labor over the long-term, first they had to buy slaves and three million were transported from Africa to North America, so figure a billion dollars over the course of a few decades, and realize those numbers require multiplication of a factor of 25 to reach commensurate value in our money today, so we are talking potentially $25 billion. The average price of a slave during the Civil War peaked at $800, and considered a good investment since they were expected to produce at least $130,000 in labor over a lifetime. There were 4 million slaves when the war began representing a value of $3.2 billion, or $80 billion today.

Maybe now you realize why eight of the twelve colleges at Yale are named after slave holders, while none named for abolitionists, a sure indication Yale was the Northern college of choice, not just for the Boston Brahmin slave traders, but for the Southern oligarchy as well, and The Tomb a place where both interests might converge.

It’s become standard practice for corporations to mount secret grass-roots movements against themselves. You might think it strange, but it’s actually standard corporate counter-intelligence procedure, not rocket science, and something that’s been going on for centuries, if not longer. So don’t be surprised if the same corporations that profiteered off slavery put up money to fund the abolitionist movement. In 1808, the African slave trade was abruptly officially stopped, thus ending the gravy train on that profit stream, although a black market illegal slave trade flourished for another 50 years, it was subject to confiscation and forfeiture by the British Navy.

In England everyone was paid off. You got money for loss of your slaves and you were compensated for any business losses. And only slaves under the age of 3 were freed immediately, others had to work as indentured servants until they’d paid back their value in labor. The pay-out amounted to the equivalent of over 16 billion pounds in today’s money, or around $26 billion.

Jay Gladstone got $134 million and his son served as Prime Minister four times. If you check the House of Lords, you’ll find a number of family fortunes associated with these payouts, and heirs have been living comfortably off interest ever since, a list that includes the appropriately-named Hoggs as well as the Camerons.

So why didn’t Abraham Lincoln strike the same deal, and avert Civil War by offering to compensate the South in much the same way? Maybe he would have after the war was over, we just don’t know, because Lincoln was assassinated before any final decisions were made on Reconstruction.

We know Lincoln vetoed the plan proposed and championed by Thaddeus Stevens: confiscation of all property owned by the 70,000 richest Southern families, so it could be parceled out to freed blacks and Northerners like himself who’d lost property during the war. I imagine Stevens may have already had his winter-estate plantation selected amongst all the choice options available.

It’s interesting the abolitionist movement came out of Massachusetts. The chief propaganda organ was titled, The Liberator, run by William Loyd Garrison, who was closely associated with the British abolitionist movement. Frederick Douglass became his star contributor and most of the subscriptions were sold to blacks. When Douglass launched his own paper, The North Star, Garrison cruelly cut off all contact. As soon as the war ended, Garrison folded his paper and the abolitionist society it had created, saying their mission was accomplished. In truth, any mission involving justice and equality for Southern blacks was just getting started and it took another hundred years to really start lifting them out of the depths of exploitation, and, in fact, in some places that battle lingers, especially inner-city ghettos where blacks have a much better chance of going to prison than of going to college.

During the Civil War, William Russell served as correspondent for London Times. He was the primary funder and supporter of John Brown, the terrorist who sparked the rush to violence. Prior to that, he’d created an officer’s training school in anticipation of the war.

During the war, the center of gravity on American finance shifted from Philadelphia to Wall Street where it resides today. The railroad, steel and oil robber barons soon eclipsed the old money shipping interests.

The incredible tale of Booth’s bones

The official story of the capture and murder of John Wilkes Booth is so filled with contradictions and inconsistencies it could have been made into an hilarious episode for the Keystone Kops. There are numerous elements in Lincoln’s assassination that defy logic, but few can top the manipulations involving the corpse of the assassin.

One thing I’ve discovered in my research: Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton, who seized all power as soon as Lincoln was murdered, was a master at media manipulation, not to mention he declared martial law and had power to censor the press. His releases became the unquestioned headlines of the day and Stanton and his chief of secret police Lafayette C. Baker were famous for tossing innocents in jail and holding them without charges. Much of what is taken to be gospel in this saga, is really just a carefully contrived script. A good example would be the story of George Atzerodt, who was supposed to assassinate Vice President Andrew Johnson that night, at least according to the official story.

Atzerodt admitting being involved in Booth’s failed attempt to kidnap President Lincoln a month earlier, and later claimed to have only heard about the Lincoln assassination plot on April 15th. The previous day, he’d mysteriously checked into the Kirkwood House, the hotel where the Vice President resided, using his real name and repeatedly inquired about the Vice President’s whereabouts. Since Johnson’s room was accessible from the street and easily penetrated, there was no need for any assassin to show his face at the hotel. The sight of this disreputable-looking and obviously unwashed person having any interest in the Vice President caused significant alarm amongst some of the hotel staff. Immediately after Lincoln was shot, Detective John Lee was sent to the Kirkwood to guard the Vice President, and quickly found out about the mystery man, broke into his room and discovered the bed had never been slept in. Lee also discovered a Colt revolver, three boxes of cartridges, 12-inch bowie knife, brass spur, three handkerchiefs with different monograms, a black coat containing J.W. Booth’s Ontario bank book, and Perrine’s topographical War Map to the southern states.

For a supposed spook, Atzerodt could not have been more transparent as to the identities of himself and his fellow conspirators unless he’d left a written confession of their crimes. Since he was a known drunk, uneducated, and certainly not capable of an assassination of anyone, one wonders what could have been his real motive for checking into that hotel and inquiring about the Vice President, which only alarmed the hotel staff. There was no need for Atzerodt to leave incriminating evidence in his room. Atzerodt would not be located and arrested for five days, but the map and spur seemed an obvious clue he was fleeing south on horseback, almost too obvious. Which is why it’s so suspicious Stanton immediately announced Booth was headed north to Canada and closed all roads leading that direction. Strangely, the road to Maryland was left open.

It seems more likely Booth’s calling card to Johnson and his bank book in the same hotel may have been part of an unsuccessful sheep-dipping operation designed to paint Johnson as the true instigator of the assassination, something that, if successful, would have had a similar impact on removing him as his murder, only less blood on the floor. Mary Surratt would be soon hanged for owning a boarding house frequented by Confederate spooks, something not surprising considering her son was one of Jefferson Davis’ primary couriers. I do believe Atzerodt was supposed to back up Booth or Lewis Powell that night and then escape with them via horseback and help lead them south, but instead he wandered aimlessly about town before fleeing on his own once realizing the President was dead and he was implicated. But then he’d only recently met Booth and been dragged into Booth’s intrigues because he had a rowboat on northern bank of the Potomac, which was needed for the escape. In fact, the loss of this boat caused Booth much consternation. Most likely, Atzerodt was just working for money and being given the absolute minimum of information by super spook Booth.

Major James R. O’Beirne, Provost Marshall of the District of Columbia, the man who’d sent Lee to protect the vice president, quickly led a detail of men south based on the map found at the Kirkwood. O’Beirne was doing an admirable job tracking the assassin, and was first to arrive at Dr. Samuel Mudd’s house. Suspicion fell on Mudd because he’d served two years in the Confederate army, and even though Mudd reported to proper authorities two strangers passed through, one requiring medical attention for a broken leg, after Mudd was shown a picture of Booth and claimed it was not the man he’d treated (which might have been true, since his brother Edwin’s photo was discovered in the War Department files misidentified as John W.), that statement convicted him in the eyes of O’Beirne. Booth hid his mustache with a scarf and was wearing huge stage whiskers glued over his sideburns when he’d arrived at Mudd’s. He’d ridden off of his original path of escape to find a sympathetic doctor he’d hoped would keep quiet, but Mudd filed a report the next day.
There’s no doubt O’Beirne was closing in on Booth, but when he requested to move into Virginia, he was suddenly ordered to remain in Maryland and search only there. Meanwhile, Baker put his cousin in charge of a squad of soldiers, and sent them on the trail O’Beirne had sniffed out. Since $100,000 in reward money was at stake, Baker surely wanted himself and his cousin to collect the lion’s share, but they didn’t.

Here’s a staged photo of Lafayette Baker recreating the moment he tells Luther Baker and Enerton Conger where to find Booth. Since Conger was actually not at this meeting, this photo is no doubt a manipulation of Stanton, who was a master at propaganda. According to the official story, Baker drew a 10-mile diameter circle on a map of Virginia and sent his cousin off to Virginia with a troupe of soldiers. How Baker knew Booth’s precise location is a mystery, but some wild stories were later invented, the final story involved an unidentified black youth who dropped by the War Department to make an anonymous report.

Baker, Conger and a squad of 25 soldiers discovered Booth locked in a tobacco-drying shed. It was night, so a perimeter was placed around the shed at a distance. Only Baker and Conger remained inside that perimeter.
What happened next is a matter of great dispute since the stories of the eyewitnesses shifted several times over the next few days. The first official report claimed Booth was captured and then shot by Boston Corbett while trying to make an escape. When this report did not fly, the story began getting more convoluted each time it was told.

Conger was the first to enter the shed, and claimed initially that Booth shot himself. Baker was second to enter the shed and felt Booth had been shot by Conger, but immediately thought to himself, “if he had, it were better not known.”

Corbett was a mental case who self-castrated himself with a pair of scissors after visiting a prostitute, and then calmly went to dinner before seeking medical attention. A former hatter, everyone assumed mercury fumes had destroyed his mind and Corbett would wind up in a mental institution eventually. No doubt Corbett was told fame and fortune awaited him if he took the credit. Although orders had supposedly been given to take Booth alive, Stanton reacted by saying, “The rebel is dead, the patriot lives,” and Corbett was given $1,653.85 of the reward money.

There were no witnesses to the shooting as the soldiers were all in the dark, and on the perimeter. It’s likely impossible Corbett could have fired the shot, especially since the bullet followed a downward trajectory, as if fired from above at close range. In fact, the placement and trajectory were weirdly similar to the one Booth used to execute Lincoln, almost as if he were being served his own medicine.

But it was after Booth’s death that things got really strange. Luther Baker took the body and two soldiers on ahead before any death certificate or autopsy could be performed. This was done over the objections of Lt. Edward P. Doherty. Soon, Doherty’s two men returned, having been sent back by Baker to deliver some frivolous message. Meanwhile, Baker and the corpse completely vanished.

At 11 PM, Baker finally arrived in Alexandria claiming he’d “gotten lost” and his cousin Lafayette Baker was there to receive the corpse. An unexplained three-hour delay transpired before the body was transferred (in a sloppy and unprofessional manner) onto the ironclad U.S.S. Montauk. Even though some of the conspirators who knew Booth were being held prisoner on that same boat, the only person called to view the body (aside from those in the military) was a hotel clerk. Dr. Frederick May, a military doctor who’d removed a tumor from Booth’s neck, was also shown the body and claimed: “There is no resemblance in that corpse to Booth, nor can I believe it to be him.” No friends nor relatives were notified and May was massaged for a time and eventually changed his story so that the corpse might be Booth and was just too decayed to recognize, especially without his famous mustache.

The corpse then did a second disappearing act, and was removed from the Montauk in the same manner it had arrived aboard, which is to say without orders, documents or papers. “The removal of the body was entirely without my knowledge…This unusual transaction deprived me of opportunity for enclosing the body in a box….as ordered,” complained John D. Montgomery, commandant of the Washington Navy Yard. Lafayette Baker had seized the corpse and held a public display of dumping it into the Potomac wrapped in a horse blanket. Many years later, it would be revealed the body was taken to an old jail on the site of Washington Arsenal, buried in an old gun box. In 1869, President Johnson ordered all the conspirators remains returned to their families, although by that time nothing but bones remained.

Legend in the Booth family is that Booth was not killed, but moved to India, and while some family members would like to have his alleged remains DNA-tested, this has always been blocked and will likely never occur for reasons unknown. But even if a test discovered the bones were not Booth’s, it would mean little because there is no proper chain of custody. The body disappeared twice for long periods of time when anything could have happened.

I have to wonder if the bones of Booth weren’t worth almost as much on the black market as the reward money in some quarters. For example, in 1832, a junior at Yale founded a secret society based on one he’d been introduced into while studying abroad in Germany. Although that society was very Masonic in style, it would eventually become famous for obtaining skulls of famous revolutionaries. Known originally as “The Order,” that society is known today as “Skull & Bones,” and since it was founded by the slave and opium-running families of Boston and New York, I’ll always wonder if Booth’s bones maybe didn’t end up at the Tomb in New Haven. Could such a crook have taken place? Only the Bonesmen know for sure, and they ain’t talkin’.

Why David Icke and Alex Jones are Disinfo Artists

Maybe you’ve noticed the appearance of insane ninja shooters is increasing exponentially, a disturbing trend nowhere so prevalent as in the good old USA? My theory is this unfortunate situation is the result of a perfect storm of three trends: pills for all, violence media for all, and guns for all. With the possible addition of some MK/Ultra-style experiments in mind control.

A sideshow to this problem is the way the Tin Foil Hat Patrol jumps on all current events as being created by sinister forces. The world is filled with coincidences and you can connect dots all day long that don’t really connect, so that’s an easy game to play. The disinfo machine ignores real info and diverts people into rabbit holes leading nowhere while helping brand researchers as kooks who believe in nonsense. That’s the purpose of disinfo, which is really a well-practiced art the FBI and CIA learned from the Nazis and British intelligence.

To give a specific example: When Sandy Hook happened, it was immediately branded by David Icke and Alex Jones, the two biggest disinfo artists in the world, as an example of a government-inspired plot. According to them, more than one shooter was involved. Initially, they claimed the event was orchestrated to pass Obama’s assault weapon ban. But then, a few days later, it turned out there were no assault weapons at Sandy Hook, just four hand guns. So how does that help pass an assault weapon ban? Just another case of reality blowing a giant hole through a pet theory advanced by Icke and Jones.

And please don’t make the mistake of thinking either one of those two dudes actually knows what’s going on in the world and is on the inside of the real power structure. They only understand one thing: paranoia sells. And that’s really the only aspect of conspiracy theory banksters are willing to bankroll. Secret societies will always seek to control dialogue by inventing extremes. Somebody big in England is behind Icke, just like somebody big is behind Jones in the USA. It could even be the same person, although you can see major differences in their approaches. Icke is pushing the “Rothschilds rule the world,” essentially the same course charted by the John Birch Society in the 1960s. Today we know the JBS was set-up inside Freemasonry and was involved in the JFK assassination cover-up. The JBS was created as an extremist group to hype the Cold War and they promoted the idea the Rothschilds were secretly running Russia, as well as the State Department. In reality, the Rothschilds evolved as the court bankers of Europe.

Jones, on the other hand, talks about the elites but avoids discussion of both the Mossad and Opus Dei, two of the more important secret societies helping orchestrate world events. You cannot understand what is happening in the world today without studying the primary secret societies, which includes MI6 and the CIA.

Antony Sutton, one of the few deep political researchers I trust, claimed the Rothschilds control less than ten percent of the world’s wealth, and the majority is in the coffers of old money families of Europe and North America. They were eclipsed by the rise of Rockefeller, who has been eclipsed by the computer/internet revolution. Researching the truth of money is beyond my ability, but I believe anything promoted by the corrupt John Birch Society is far more likely to be a rabbit hole than the actual truth. Yes, in many cases, the man running the bank might be Jewish, but that doesn’t mean Jews own all the money in the bank.

The most important financial secret in the world was the recovery of billions of dollars worth of gold stolen by the Japanese and Nazis during WWII. Once recovered, this treasure was hidden inside the world banking system and that crime seems to have been conducted jointly by Opus Dei and Skull & Bones, neither one of which has Jewish heritage inside the upper ranks of its power structure.

Guide to the Disinfo Matrix

I was on facebook the other day when one of my unknown friends posted a link to a book titled Big Oil by Dean Henderson. It didn’t have a single review on Amazon so I thought it was something new. In the promo material, some person from South America said it deserved the Pulitzer Prize. It was super expensive at $25, but often the most reliable books on deep politics cost money, so I thought I was ordering a real book and bought it without really looking into the author at all.

Unfortunately, when the book arrived yesterday, I quickly discovered it was filled with misinformation and quoted people like David Icke and William Cooper as if they were serious journalists, which they are not. I opened it at random and came to a quote saying Allen Dulles was a member of Skull & Bones, a secret society at Yale, when, in fact, Dulles had gone to Princeton. Soon, I realized Dean Henderson is either a knowing agent of disinfo or a brainwashed stooge of the disinfo matrix (more on that later).

Paul Krassner, the dean of underground journalism, began printing conspiracy research in the 1960s in his national magazine, The Realist, forging a trail few in journalism would ever follow. Pretty soon, researchers were crawling out of the woodwork and sending Paul stories. Even today, when he no longer publishes conspiracy research, these characters are still peppering him with their nutty theories. I know because Paul forwards the wackiest stuff to me, as if to say, “see how crazy your compatriots are?” Many of these people are undoubtedly plants. Of course, the most famous of these characters was Mae Brussell, whose research seemed authentic at first, but pretty soon Paul realized Mae was leading him down a rabbit hole and connecting dots that didn’t really connect, leading him on a wild goose chase to nowhere. That’s when Paul stopped trusting conspiracy researchers [Paul adds: I felt it necessary not to have predisposed perception, to distinguish coincidence from conspiracy, and not let what might be perceived as evidence be tainted by ego or agenda]. After most people get burned after falling in a rabbit hole, it becomes really difficult to get past the noise to the real info that noise is designed to conceal. The game is to sheep-deep all deep political research as crackpot nonsense by flooding the field with crack-pot nonsense. Unfortunately, this game has worked very well for over 50 years now.

I’m too old and too wise to fall for this crapola, although I can’t say the same for a lot of people I meet, who seem to gobble up the latest pronouncements by Icke, Rense, Jones and the rest of the captains of disinfo. Henderson’s book wasn’t just sourced through these dubious characters, though. He also quoted a number of more reliable conspiracy researchers, some of whom have suspicious axes to grind. In this list, I’d include anyone from the Lyndon LaRouche organization, Alex Constantine, and Mike Ruppert. These are probably disinfo agents, but at least they’re journalists who deal with verifiable facts and not baseless rumor and innuendo. The rabbit holes they lead you into (like Ruppert’s “Peak Oil” scam), are more credible than the shapeshifting aliens in Icke’s manifestos, although ultimately, I don’t think these sources can be trusted any more than their obviously crackpot counterparts.

After I got Henderson’s book, I learned he’s a regular on the Icke/Rense/Jones disinfo circuit. He also seems to be an activist in the Green movement. The environmental movement is heavily seeded with agents because the oil companies have to keep in eye on environmentalists to make sure they don’t do anything damaging to their bottom line, which is why they’ve installed an oligarchy insider like Al Gore as their chief lightening rod. It’s a dialectical game, just like almost everything else that goes on inside deep politics.

Once you get past those two levels of disinfo, you get to real journalists with no visible axes to grind, a list that includes Antony Sutton, Gary Webb, Steve Kangas, Daniel Hopsicker, Dick Russell, Alfred McCoy, Danny Casolaro, and Peter Dale Scott. These are the authors you have to read and if I find their names and books in a bibliography, then I know I’m dealing with a serious researcher. The more serious a researcher is, however, the more ignored they will become over time. Deep political research is a great way to “break your rice bowl,” which is how they put it to Antony Sutton when he veered off the designated rails. You can put me in this category too, as I once had a flourishing journalism career, but after I began publishing deep political research in High Times, I soon realized I no longer had a journalism career. My book, The Octopus Conspiracy, got exactly one review when it came out—in a local publication in Woodstock, New York.

Shortly after 9/11, Retired General Mirza Aslam Beg, former chief of staff of the Pakistani Army, said 9/11 was an operation of the American intelligence agencies. Beg also claimed Wikileaks is a tool of psy-war, and not a real whistle-blowing operation, and that Osama bin Laden died in 2009, and that the Seal Team killed a lookalike stand-in. Of course, researchers like me know Beg is probably telling the truth.

Oh, and by the way, I left my review of Big Oil on Amazon. It wasn’t very favorable.

Is Conspiracy Theory the True Road to Enlightenment?

“Enlightenment’s not like ringing a bell. Some days you can stone people with your presence, some days not.” Stephen Gaskin

I used to wonder if all this deep political research I was doing was really worth it. Sometimes, when I’d try to clue my elders into the secret society network that controls real global power, they’d get depressed having to confront all that corruption for the first time.

Then I realized the case on the JFK assassination was closed. All you had to do was read the testimony of mafia figures and Cuban exiles who worked on that CIA project, presumably initiated at the request of the oligarchy, and not by some rouge agents either.

A peaceful calm came over me when I realized I no longer had to stay abreast of all the latest twists and turns. Conspiracy theory is 99% disinfo and 1% honest investigations. More than anything, it involves avoiding rabbit holes, like chemtrails and “we never landed on the moon.” These are the chaff and flares ejected to fool heat-seeking missile researchers.

The latest rabbit hole is 9/11 was a fusion of OTO/Freemasonic black magic rituals designed to penetrate the psyche of the nation.

I’d prefer an analysis of 9/11 based on the Harry Potter franchise, the most valuable media asset in the United Kingdom right now because I think Harry Potter contains more powerful magic than Aleister Crowley at this point.

Every generation shapes its own magic and I don’t subscribe to the theory a black magic cult has been running the world continuously for 2,000 years. Black magic cults are everywhere, usually hidden as white magic cults. LaRouche, Hubbard and Rev. Moon created three of the biggest of our time, but they still don’t approach whatever black magic cult is embedded in the corrupted Pentagon and CIA.

Rule number one: Never talk about the order.

Rule number two: Obey the order.

These societies are designed to hand down power from one generation of the oligarchy to the next and most of the people certainly don’t feel they’re committing any crimes or doing anything other than protecting their family’s interests.

We get a picture of the dark side of these societies by looking at the Sicilian men-of-honor society, whose initial induction ceremony involved black robes with hoods and a human skull with a stiletto driven through it. There were no complex OTO or masonic-style rituals, though. Just a pinprick on the finger, a few drops of blood, and the sacred oath to obey and conceal. Oh, and if you ever broke this vow, you gave the society permission to kill you as your just punishment.

Although we’ve never been inside the Bonesmen’s tomb during their initiation ceremonies, we’ve heard audio tapes from activities in the courtyard, which sound pretty hilarious. Ritual death seems to be involved there as well, just as it is with the masonic societies. I’m not familiar with the Mormon’s version, but given that cult’s rapid penetration of the FBI, I suspect ritual death may be a part of their initiation rites as well.

So why all this continuous reference to Crowley and Pike as if their ideas are actually driving the show? A huge part of disinfo is creating the false enemy.

Someday the corruption inside this network is going to be exposed because someone on the inside is going to make a serious run at exposing the hoodwink. But it will probably be preceded by a fake messiah acting the role of do-gooder.