BOOK OF RACHEL Pages 285, 86, 87' 88

BOOK OF RACHEL

Extending the tripod near the window and mounting the video camera, he looked through the eyepiece and watched the airport. I used the binoculars to survey all the entrances and exits not used by normal traffic, luckily there was a Black Lear sitting on the tarmac.   

We were there about an hour when Dwaine's phone rang. "Hello," He said. Then, he added "Room 725."

He turned to us. "Our lookouts have arrived."

I still watched as we waited another five minutes for our replacements arrival, knocking on the door. Patty opened itr, letting in two men in their fifties.

They introduced themselves and told us there were a couple more riders traveling around the airport, looking for a flat, straight street with little traffic suitable to use as a runway for the large radio control jet.

We explained what they were looking for, some sort of regular black Lear flight schedule, with Limo's coming and going. We only had to tomorrow late afternoon to make a decision, hoping to destroy the black Lear with the most important Heads of the NWO and the new NOAMER, the Illuminati, the New World Military in their Black Uniforms.  

We left by Sepulveda, heading to Santa Monica to the 10 freeway, taking it to its end at PCH. Then to Topanga Canyon Boulevard, for the drive back to actors house, where Jim and John were.

Word had gotten to them that we were coming so when we arrived, Jim and John were working on the F8 Spymaster inside the trailer. They didn't want to bring it out in case drones were overhead.

We parked beside the trailer and moved into it quickly.

"What are you doing," Dwaine asked?

"Figuring out how to load some explosives," actor said. "Taking a Lear down just by mid air collision is not one hundred percent. We need to explode on contact. That meet your approval, Rachel?"

"Sounds good to me," I responded, a little surprised they asked. If they weren't smiling when he asked me, I might have wondered his meaning.

"We haven't decided if we want to explode on contact, cause that will be hard to set up, or explode by radio control, which will take exact timing, hoping the connection doesn't get garbled."

"I'd vote the radio control," I said.

"That what you want, that's what you’re getting. Your timing was perfect destroying the Limo yesterday, so you’re on the button tomorrow."

John said, "The nose cone comes off, and there's enough room for three sticks of dynamite. It'll have to be a direct hit. Can't really hit it head on. That would be almost impossible."

I mentioned, "It would be nice to see it go down in a ball of flames into the ocean, but I'll take what I can get. If it goes up in flames on the runway and everyone is killed, that would be good enough." 

"We have a runway," John asked?

"Looking for one right now," actor said.

"We'll need about three hundred feet of flat surface. Paved of course."

"From what we saw from the hotel, the only surface smooth enough was the runways."

"No way can we drag this trailer onto the tarmac."

Patty mentioned, "PCH is only five miles away."

"Too far away. This jet only has a RC receiver that covers about a mile."

"That's tight," I said.

"We'll get it done."

"Said like a leader. Keep us positive, Rachel."

Actor said. "Let's go inside, let these guys get it done."

We all agreed and one at a time, followed actor into his house. Actor, myself, Patty, and Dwaine. We went into the little older wooden cabin overgrown by Walnut trees. Actor's wife and the other woman who lived there made us lunch. First time I ate home cooked warm bread in a while.

Time to get back to Dwaine's we left, one at a time riding the dirt paths up to the ridge top and onto the firebreaks which were the easier part of the famous Backbone Trail. 

That was the first time I rode my Harley I stole since it was modified and painted black.

Then another short trail till meeting up with the dead end mini mansion streets of upper Encino. A few turns, and never closer then a half mile apart, they turned onto Dwaine's street.

A half mile more downhill towards Ventura, we pulled into Dwaine's garage.

We had Episode eleven of 'The New Reality' to do in the next five and a half hours to our eight o'clock Digital short Wave broadcast window and Dwaine's is were the Digital Shrot Wave link and editing facilities were.

Someone was waiting inside, let in by Randy the now head of the Wounded Warriors, aware by the security receivers.

He spoke with Dwaine alone for a bit and then he went downstairs with Randy.

Patty and I went to receiving, editing room to see what came in from around the world now that Digital Short Wave was replacing the internet.

That was about the best the Underground could do right now. Distribute what was the last profitable business, manufacturing Digital Short Wave receivers.

For security, we didn't know where the broadcaster was. Only Dwaine knew.

 Dwaine came in to see us, as we began turning on the editing and recording equipment, hooked up to the wind mills. He carried a map book, opening it up looking for something.

 "Okay. We got a location to launch the jet."

"PCH," Patty said?

 "On the end of Sepulveda, by the homes on the original street, before the airport was built. There's a more used newer Sepulveda; this is next to it, in the homes right off the runway."

"Any word from the airport lookouts?"

"A little. They have a schedule when they fly. They can see limos on the tarmac."

"Any videos," I asked? 

"Not yet. They haven't secured a SW broadcaster in the area. Bikes are moving the info now. Takes time."

Patty and I had just started the incoming video clips of different attacks on New World Order some from other parts of the world, and our minds were distracted.

Dwaine finally left, and in a couple hours, the VO to be added later.

We finally changed the start, making it looked more produced, more professional. It started with a short montage of shots taken and sent; since shots are easier then video's to send.  Pictures of War and Riots in Europe, one from America showed aftermath of an assassination of the New World Military personnel in a blocked Limo.  There was Bridge damage. For effect, Patty insisted we include shots of current flood damage, or earthquake damage Japan this time.

Welcome too:

'THE NEW REALITY'

Produced by PRIVATE CONTRIBUTERS

A JIM created show.

Directed by   RACHEL

Edited by     PATTY

The music was haunting, something right off the computer synthesizer.

As the show displayed on the main TV screen, I wrote the dialogue.

Finished with the script, and going live with the Voice Over just before the eight o'clock window, I decided to visit Bill Thomas.   

With a baseball hat and my ponytail under my t-shirt, I moved like a young man walking across Dwaine's large yard to the street, no sidewalks here. Three doors down I walked it Bill Thomas's yard with the single driveway into the street faced garage. 

Angela answered my knock, "Oh Rachel. 'Rachel for President'. Have you seen the signs, dear heart?"

"I've seen the signs with a price on my head."

"Oh my. I haven't seen them."

"They're full page in the LA Times."

"Financed by the Kock Brothers I assume."

All I could do was nod.

"Bill is in his office. I'm sure you want see him."

"I enjoy talking to you."

"Let me put it this way. Bill has something to show you." With that, she led me down the hall to the first room on the right. The door way open, Bill was reading from one of his real old books stacked behind him. 

After I entered, Angela closed the door from the outside.

He swiveled to look, "Rachel. I'm so glad your here. It's time for you to see the truth."

"Well hello to you." I stepped up. "Three years, Incarnates, what else is there?"

He looked at me for a moment. "Angels," he said finally.

I looked at him for moments. "Now you got my attention. I figured I'd see Angels after I die, which  hope I'm along way from."

"I've been wondering what level of incarnate you are. I know now. I was told last night."

"Who told you?"

"Oh, I didn't see who told me, but I saw your face in a halo of light."

"Okay."

"Your nineteen, right?"

I nodded.

"Our current Government trying to reorganize to retain order. The 2016 election is over. Paul Rund is declared president."

"The guy with the rich up his ass."

"The guy promoted by Rove and the Koch brothers."

 "The guys who fly around in the black Lear Jets."

"I suppose."

"Okay, are ready to leave for a couple days?"

"Leave? We can't drive anywhere, soon there will be roadblocks every couple miles."

"We are not driving, and you'll go alone."

"When?"

"Right now. You’ll be gone maybe days."

"Wait a minute. I'm the trigger man tomorrow. They need me."

"Look, your our best hope for the 2020 election. It we all survive the changes."

"Three years?"

"Give or take. All the Northern Glaciers melted, average twelve degrees warmer then average. Europe freezing up. We've had two more Tornado Swarm's in America. Are you ready to go?"

"No. No. Wait, I'm not going to go anywhere until we attack LAX tomorrow afternoon."

"You've been in a lot frontal attacks. More then your far share. We don't know if we can protect you. Your destined to lead a small tribe to survive and flourish past the fall of the NWO."

"What? So that's what it's all about. After this NWO depopulates three quarters of the worlds population, the survivors finally turn on the last of the families, at the every same time we have a polar shift?"

"By 2019, because of your memory what you did in 2016, when the power elite turned on the world, the fight you led will leave you a legend. Not so much if you die tomorrow."

"It's my idea, and I know the trigger timing."

"We can't protect you."

"We?"

"Well, not you. Each attack you do is a game changer for our enemy; they didn't think there would be frontal attacks on their Terminals, and Processing Centers. Blowing up the eighteenth floor at Universal

"Now they got drones over all these targets. You'll be lucky if they don't have drones over the airport. So far, they learn to counter our attacks, but you give them more. You take them by surprise and they become more aware."

That was about my take. There was evidence of drone strikes in the Valley you could tell by the sudden fire. They were getting close, tightening the noose around us all and humanity. There was talk of a drone grid being established over us all by 2018.

"Well, my adoring fans don't know this is it, my last show."

"Tonight?"

"No, that broadcasts at eight, so I have to be there. What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

"Then I got to go back to Dwaine's. We’re doing the voice over one minute before it goes on air."

"And tomorrow? You editing before broadcast?"

"We got lookouts at the airport. They only have a few hours to find a pattern watching the amount of traffic. Limo deliveries. Then set up sometime tomorrow. It might be late afternoon. Broadcast live as they search for survivors at the crash site."

He hesitated for moments.

"Then you’ll be ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"Your taking a little trip. Remember?"

I looked at him for a moment. "And where am I going again?"

In-a-Gada-Da-Vida

About to video myself drumming for my Kickstarter project.
Hope you all enjoy it and fund what you can.

Will direct you to Kickstarter as soon a available.

Thanks
Gary RB

BOOK OF RACHEL November, 2016

BOOK OF RACHEL   Pages 265, 66, 67

From the back of the shelter, I heard, "Careful the stairs are steep. Don't be in a hurry."

I took my time and got to the bottom. There was only one way to go so I went that way. Through two open doors I traversed until stepping into a well light room with vegetables growing in abundance. Bill was on his knees cutting a cucumber from its root, placing it in a basket that held other vegetables, such as tomatoes and peppers.  

“Come on in a give me a hand. Nothing brings you closer to God then working with the land his wisdom created for life to exist.”

I stepped onto the fertile sole and got down on my knees to help. There was broccoli standing almost two feet high with heads almost three feet in diameter.

“Yes, that would be a good place to start. Please cut down one of those broccoli heads and clean it up a tad.”

“Clean it,” I asked, being a novice at vegetable gardening.

“Remove the leaves and place the stem and leaves in tat compost box over to your right.”

We worked in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, he said, “Do you know about Incarnates?”

“I’ve heard the term a couple times since I came here from Washington.”

“Well, girl, I think you might be an Incarnate.”

“Still considering the bigger picture, I asked, “Can Incarnates run for President?”

He looked at me quizzingly. “Lincoln is an Incarnate, so yes."

"Is?"

"Once an Incarnate, always an Incarnate,"

"Okay. So what's my advantage to being an Incarnate?"

"You mean besides a direct link to God?"

"What. Wait, I figured it meant living forever."

"No such luck. Some do, but not all"

"I came here for answers, not to get more confused."

"Welcome to my world."

"Am I invited?"

"To my world," he laughed looking up from the tomato plant? "Looks like you’re in."

"Can you tell me about it?"

Working the garden put me in a tranquil mood, especially after blowing up a limo. So I continued working in the below ground garden while he began to talk. He spoke for an hour, about all kinds of things, like the fact that he had set up these communes across the country in order to teach some of us how to survive in extreme conditions, like not knowing where you are and what is eatable. He used the term Godhead for the first time. I asked about what Godhead was, since I believe that term was used in some sort of Hindu religion. 

He said something about the positive and the negative, the negative being the devil, the positive being all spirited life in the Universe. As more positive spirit on any land, any planet, died, the spirit helped the Universe expand. The devil, the negative spirit, doesn't want the Universe to expand, found ways to infest these lands, or planets, turning good to bad, all positive to eternal negative.

I listened as I cut another broccoli, wondering where he was getting this information.

With a big population, mankind no longer has a central nervous system, thanks to things like beliefs, such as religions.

"Do religions have anything to do with Incarnates," I asked.

"About as much as meteorites have to do with the common cold."

That quieted me.

Anyway, it was time for me to go. I had to help somehow with the tenth installment. It was my idea, the use of drones, even though we used Radio Control Airplanes. If I was going to do the oratory, I had to tell the Underground there was a new way to fight this evil that was proliferating throughout earth, and evil that lay dormant for generations until it saw an opening, the overpopulation of earth. Well, that and the confusion of religions all fighting for dominance. Once Religions develops the theory that a good member of another religion is a dead member the evil becomes dominant.

I asked him what his plans were for me, and he said something about he was starting another commune here in the Inner City and he pegged me to oversee the youth he consigned me for later recolonization. That was it. Even a genius can take only so much before reaching overload.

I left Bill there and kissed Angela at the door and walked back to Dwaine's.

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

I have just started a Kickstarter campain to fund my movie, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, a true story of what happpened to me and my band in the Sping of 1969.

We had been together for years, even though I was a student at Taft, and the rest of the band enrolled at Reseda. We were considered the house band at Reseda, playing at about half of the dances there. In fact, Spring 1970, we were schedualed to play at Reseda's Prom, which got cancelled due to lack of interest.

That performance was going to be 1 year after I was paralyzed in a car crash when a drunk driver ran a stop sign at Woodlake offramp, while I was minding my own business driving on Ventura heading back to my parents house in Calabasas. I was coming home from a practice, we were preparing to play Gazzarries July 8, 1969, two weeks after I graduated from Taft High.

On the night of June 30, 1969, one week after graduating, the accident occured, I was admitted to West Hills Hospital the morning of July 1. When I woke up from the 10 day coma, my band had already played at Gazzarries.

This movie, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, starts in May, 1969 as we decided to, then learned, and played In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida at Reseda Spring Talent Show. I know there are a few of you out there who witness this unique event, and I'd like to interview you for possible use in the movie. What made it memorable was we were given 5 minutes to play, but played the entire 19 minute version, playing 10 minutes into next class. It was a real Glee moment, yet it really happened.

I learned to walk again, and 8 months later, we had a recording contract with Epic Records.
The rest, as they say, is history.


My next book, BOOK OF RACHEL will still be available next month.

See baymenofbelize.com  for other movie specifics.

BOOK OF RACHEL PAGE 174, 75, 76

BOOK OF RACHEL

It was like a Star Tour. Actor pointed out which house belonged to what actor, producer, or sporting great. Most of the names I knew, although older. Seems once you left Hollywood and Beverly Hills, and moved into Hidden Hills, you didn't leave.

We took a left at a T and continued on. We pulled into the driveway of the last house on the road, a mammoth single story that encompassed the entire hill top, catching the interest of two Rottweiler’s laying off in the shade in front of three double garage doors.

Off to the right as I stood before the mansion was some sort of pumping or electrical facilities for the Hidden Hills homeowners. It sat on the hilltop across from the home, and behind, was the New National Guard blockade and drone port on the 101.

The big dogs came over, sniffed us, the one of them barked towards the house.

As the actor went to the front door, it opened, and my jaw dropped. It was Christopher Walkin. Now in his early 70's, he still carried himself with distinction and poise. He looked out the door, and smile broadly.

"Holy crap. What the hell are you doing here. I haven't seen you since 'God's Behaving Badly'. We had some fun there."

"Closed a couple bars. Boy was that director an ass."

Christopher looked at me. "So, what did you bring me," he said?

The actor looked at me. "Bring you? Dude, you will be lucky if you’re alive tomorrow if I left her here. I guess you don't recognize her."

Christopher walked up to me, scratching both his dogs on the way. He looked at me intently from close range. "Do I recognize you? Maybe. Were you an extra on 'God's'?"

Pleased to be this close to one of the most important men in Hollywood, I shook my head slowly.

"What. You were Sharon's stand in."

The actor said, "She does look a little like Miss Stone but no."

I swear I was in heaven.

He kept looking at me. Finally, I had to tell him.

"I'm Public Enemy Number Two."

This time Christopher’s jaw dropped. "Your fucking kidding me. If true, what an honor."

Actor said, "It's true, all right.

He looked like he had been struck with lightning. "Oh my god. You’re the looker in the Tower Bombing. Jesus. Let’s go inside." He signaled us to follow, so we did, right into the nicest house I had ever seen.   

 Actor mentioned, "We don't have long. We have to get back to Topanga before it gets too dark."

 He waited a bit as I walked by, putting his arm around my waist. "Wow," he said. "What the hell is that," he said as he felt my Uzi?

As we entered his house, he walked us to his living room. He remained vey close to me, which, even though gay, I didn't mind at all. Walking with him, I felt so many feelings, and heat. I took of my blue western long sleeve to show my t-shirt and gun.

"Wow. What's your name anyway, beautiful?"

Actor jumped in, "We call her Rambolina."

"Rachel," I said.

"Rachel. Okay." We sat down together on the couch, him right next to me. "So, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Rachel here is organizing an attack on the enemy."

"You? What are you? Nineteen?"

"I just turned eighteen."

"Now wait a fucking minute. You've got men who will do your bidding?"

"Between Rachel and Jim the guy who is filming the 'New Reality', we’d follow them anywhere. We've got an army of Wounded Warriors who basically will follow Rambolia here to their deaths, to stop the mayhem these assholes have down to our government and are doing to the people."

"Rambolina. I like that. I'll get right on the screenplay."

"Let's wait till this story plays out."

"I'd like to hear how it started."

For the next twenty minutes, I told the story with minimal detail, up to the Spaun Ranch gang helping us tomorrow with the Simi freeway drone port, and how we needed help here taking out the 101 port tomorrow.

During my tale, Chris got up and poured us a couple drinks, which I declined, asking for Pepsi only.

"I see. I have a overview of the drone port, I wonder if that is why you're here?"

"I had no idea who you were till we got here. I can't ask anybody as famous as you to put yourself in danger."

 "Do you think they'd care who I was during processing."

"No."

"Then I'm glad you’re here. Come with me." Christopher stood, and helped me to my feet. I was surprised how nimble he was for a man in his early seventies. The actor had to rise on his own. He held my hand as we walked down the hall, into his bedroom. We walked up to the floor to ceiling Anwar, hit a switch and pulled on it. It was balanced very well and moved on its hinge easily, almost by itself.

There was a doorway behind, so Chris reached for and turned the handle, pushed it open, and descended down stairs. Lights went on automatically, being set up with motion sensors.

I followed him, the Actor right behind. We quickly came to a large steel door with a wheel that obviously had to turn to open.

"I had this bomb shelter built here when I had the house remodeled. Check this out."

We walked into a long room, with side rooms that held bunks and kitchen. Other rooms held toilets and storage with plenty of food. There was another entrance to the shelter at the other end, we never found out where it exited.

There was another door that he opened. The light went on, weapons lined the walls. There were distance rifles, many handguns, Uzi's, which he particularly delighted in knowing that is what I was packing, and even a couple 50 calipers. He even had two M 15's with grenade launchers, the only thing we didn't have.

"You’re the first people to see this. All the hoopla concerning gun control after Sandy Hook and Universal City Walk Massacre, well, this would have put me in prison."

"Not anymore."

"No. Not anymore. Not since Washington was nuked and gun control became obsolete."

We were quiet for moments.

"So," I looked in his eyes, close enough to kiss him, "can you help?"

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Leading the attack on Burbank Terminal."

He looked at me for more moments. "You just want me to knock out the drones?"

"At noon tomorrow."

"If you promise to come back, I'll do it. There are others here in Hidden Hills as prepped as I am, and want to see the downfall of the New World Military."

"Sure, I'll come back, but, I'll have to bring someone."

Christopher Walkin looked at the actor for a moment who shrugged. “Who are you bringing?"

The first words I said were not the words Christopher wanted to hear. "My lover."

He frowned.

"Her names Patty and I do believe she would love to meet you."

Christopher smiled broadly at that. He said, “I have a Short Wave link. The next installment starts in minutes. You want to stay and watch?”

“Sure. Might as well, since we’ll never get back in time.”

We entered another room, this one filled with electronics. It looked like a play room, with Wi-Fi set up, a couple computers and a large TV screen, one of the biggest I’ve seen. We sat in front of the TV; Christopher sat next to me, putting his arm around me.

BOOK OF RACHEL

BOOK OF RACHEL   pages 165, 67, 67

NOVEMBER 2016

I pulled my little video camera out again and filmed what we saw.

“You know, if we could destroy those drones, it might help us tomorrow, moving the men around.”

Patty said from the back of the bike, “Hold your horses Rambolina. We can’t even get close. There’s no overgrowth were we can hide. And we don't have our Uniforms."

"If we had some kind of 50 caliper, we could hit them hard from here."

"Look."

A drone came in for a landing on the Simi freeway. It came to a stop and two men came out, pushed it off to the side by the other ten drones.  

"This looks like a drone port." Patty said.

We both heard the horse at the same time. Turning around, I was surprised to see the two horses on the top of the hill behind us, about one hundred yards away.

The sun was behind them, so it was hard to make them out. One of them waved, so we waved back. Turns out it wasn't a wave. It was a beckon. They were beckoning us to head their way. There was a dirt road behind us leading up the hill past where they sat on their horses.

We were well armed; our Uzi's in the back holsters, two extra clips each, so we figured why not. As we head up the dirt road, they turned away and head off. As we crested the hill where they had been, we saw them farther up, so we continued to follow.

They disappeared into a tree line so we followed but now they were in sight. On the Harley, we could keep up even if the galloped, but they were trotting, expecting us to follow.

After a bit, we entered a clearing, and to our surprise, we found ourselves in a Western movie set. It looked abandoned, like it hadn’t been used in years.

There were about twenty people looking on, surprised to see us. Seven of them were women. We relaxed.

The two horsemen were waiting, so we pulled up.

From horseback, one of them said, "Welcome to Spaun Ranch."

Patty said, "So this is Spaun Ranch. We all heard about it, but I never thought I'd see it. I figured they had probably torn it down after the Manson incident," she said as she got off the bike.

I really didn't know what the heck was going on.

"What is this. A famous old Western Town or something," I asked?

"The Mansion Family," Patty asked, as if I was supposed to know what that meant.

I put down the kickstand and got off the Harley.

Patty repeated. "The Manson Family? Charley Manson?"

Buy this time some of the others had come out to see who the newcomers are. A couple of them were armed, but their guns were holstered, so we weren't worried.

There was a main building, a sign over the door saying 'Haberdashery', and to the right was an entire street, with a two story hotel, bar, Hardware, the whole set up. They even had more horses then just the two.

Patty looked at the horse rider who was now walking us to the 'Haberdashery'. "She's from Washington. I guess she hasn't heard of the Manson Family."

 Now I was interested, so some time later I asked her. She told me out the 'Family', being mesmerized by this Charley guy, had gone out and committed a bunch of murders.

Then she told me more about Manson, who still sat in San Quinton, and still received marriage proposals all the time. What a sick society. Maybe thinning the herd wasn't such a bad idea.

After we went inside and met our hosts, all real good people, they asked, "So, what were you guys looking at when we saw you."

"Was that a drone airport?"

"There are a number of drone airfields around here, and there are more drones added every day. We have to stay inside most of the day, and no weapons outside."

"Do you have weapons here," I asked?

He looked at me strangely.

"You have to excuse her. When you have a big stake in the overthrow of this New World Order, you forget your manners."

"Oh, we all have a stake at overthrowing the New World Order," he said. "Most of us here have lost family and friends to the coupe."

"Finally, this thing got interesting," I muttered.

"To answer your question, yes, we have weapons."

"Good. Want to join the Underground?"

"Well, we fashioned ourselves our own underground. Someone has to stop the madness."

"Madness," I said with too much conviction. "How much do you know what's going on? Do you see the reality show, 'The New Reality'?"

"I haven't. A couple here have." He looks at those gathered inside the large room of the 'Haberdashery'. "How many have seen that new reality show?"

Only a couple raised their hands.

"Look, we've talked about it. None of us here believe it."

I looked at Patty, who looked back to me.

"Look," I said, "we have to go soon because we are attacking Burbank and L.A. Terminal's tomorrow morning. We have an army already ready, and they need us. So, let us tell you guys a story."

They all wondered at the magnitude of what I just said, but, what they were about to hear was going to blow their minds.

In fact, over the years, I told this story so many times that's why it was easy to remember and easier to wrote it.

I started near the beginning, just under two months ago, as I entered L.A. County on the train that apparently, according to Patty, went under our present location. Everyone there agreed, since almost all there were West San Fernando natives, telling me the beautiful rocky Chatsworth Hills were their playground while in school. Youth, when cared for by proud parents, weren't aware of the problems surrounding them, like the 2008 beginning of the recession, the GOP plan to ruin the Obama Presidency to ensure they were able to retake control of America, the Sequester, the weather, nuclear threats by some punk kid in North Korea. The list goes on.  

I began with being accosted by Grey Uniformed men in the Subway, my short lived job before being kidnapped to Camp FEMA Barstow, my transfer as a New National Guard to Burbank. To prove my point both Patty and I exposed our Uzi's. I told how Patty and I met. I was just a body to be killed for my Uniform; our love for each other grew out of that situation.

Patty told how she and Jim and the film crew shot the last five installments of 'The New Reality', and of their destruction of Camp FEMA Barstow, especially after we all found out for a fact at the train wreck the Black Boxes were really being used as coffins, the bodies disposed right there in Barstow. Some said "No way," but, Patty had not only seen, see helped film it.

Anyway, we went on and on until we got to where we were now, organizing all the vets, most wounded, who wanted to fight back before it was too late.

We discussed with who we began calling the Spaun Ranch gang how what they could do to help would be to destroy the drone base on the nearby closed Simi Freeway.