My dog Butter is mostly an Australian Shepherd. Years ago, I was visiting a farm in Tennessee. It was getting late and he broke free from the property. He ran up a hillside at least a mile away and began to gather cows in the setting sun. He gathered five of them and corralled them back down to the barn. He had transformed into this strange strategic wonder dog of nipping and yelping. He was fearless under their stomping hooves as he placed each one inside the fence. He returned when he was finished to sit by my feet. The whole time this was happening I was commanding him to stop. He would not listen. Butter was not my dog anymore. He was an alter. The cows and the sunset had triggered him. I have had this dog my whole life. I assure you he has not been to cow school. We say these abilities are bred into the genes, but science does not claim to understand the exact mechanism. Genes hold a variety of programs locked inside a morphic resonance. Things like hereditary mannerisms, a spider’s web, a corralling sheep dog, or even a ritual murder are all examples of programs. In every case, the bloodline is the hard drive.
A mind control alter is essentially an algorithm that runs through the nervous system. We are all born with alter programming. Like a spider’s web, certain skills are recalled, not learned. These skills are ancient the trauma programming of our ancestors and are hard-coded into our epigenetics. Alter programs are installed through the cycles of trauma and survival. Evolution itself is an intense, yet slow form of trauma programming.
How do you make an alter? You induce trauma. You keep inducing this until the automaton emerges to the surface. This is the essence of trauma programming. To preserve a trauma program hereditarily you use a transmittable bloodline. The Rhesus (Rh-Negative) blood type is the best-reported vessel for hereditary preservation. Royal blood is programmed blood that’s been passed down for centuries. Real historical figures like Vlad the Impaler were programmed as alters with cannibalism. It made their family bloodline ruthless and successful. Powerful families raised there programmed psychopathic killers to protect their legacy. This behavior emerged as a form of elite survival. Our nations are still ruled by these same alter families because of this trauma programming. An alter is a zombie under an ancient spell of energy, frequency, and vibration.
There are thirteen Dark Mothers. Gloria Vanderbilt is one of them. She knew eleven by name and only seven in person. She dreams often about her Dark Sisters. There is always a big circle in a wide open cavern. All of them are pregnant together in a ritual. They are pushing out their offerings in unison. Gloria is on all fours like an animal. She is clawing at her silk ritual drop cloth. Her ass is as high in the air as she can place it. She is presenting herself to the circle. She is birthing her offering for the Queen of Darkness. All of the Dark Mothers are contracting in unison. Giant drums of taunt human skin are pounding in the background. Gloria wants to know who is at the center. She turns to behold the face of the Queen of Darkness only to find herself awake in her bed. She always woke up at this part. Gloria was horizontal and defeated. She asked herself again why she could not see this dream through.
Gloria did not know she was an alter. She knew she had these dreams but she considered herself a deeply spiritual artist. She had all the money in the world to convince her she was gifted. Her family were the chosen. She believed her purpose was to share her artistic vision of pattern and form. She was a trendsetter. Gloria never considered ritualistically killing one of her children. Just like my dog Butter, she had been programmed a long time ago. All she needed was to hear the trigger and she would run the trauma program known as Dark Mother.
Gloria could not rest her mind comfortably anywhere inside a solid patch of color. Any form of stillness or serenity drove her mad with rabies. Every surface of her life had to be splintered and minced with pattern. She found the darting of her eyes to be soothing. Gloria’s DNA was vibrating from centuries of programmed trauma. She was a cauldron of madness fueled by the trappings of dynasty and dopamine.
The Satanic ritual murder of Carter Vanderbilt Cooper began one afternoon while he was napping. Gloria turned to page 25 of her The New Yorker Magazine and read her trauma program trigger. It was a single sentence from a story called White Angel. She instantly stopped all of her jittering as her mind went still over the story. It was July 22nd, Mary Magdalene feast day. Her pupils had dilated into black sunken saucers. She started her program and transformed into a methodical spider. Gloria folded a finger inside the magazine and told herself she must share it with Carter. He had come home to mourn the recent loss of a girlfriend. Gloria found Carter on the bed in his older brother’s room. “I’d like to read to you for a bit” she said, as she sat calmly beside him. Carter noticed something different about his mother but she interrupted him saying, “You’ll feel better.” She opened the magazine and began reading the story of the White Angel.
Carter had heard this same story as a boy. He did not remember it though. Not yet. It was a story of two brothers, a voyeuristic sex act between them, a dose of L.S.D., and it ends with one of them bleeding to death after bursting through a plate glass window. Carter listened to his Dark Mother read him his trigger. Carter’s pupils also dilated as his biology spun up his alter. He became compelled to take himself out the window. Carter rushed over to their 14th story balcony and straddled himself over the railing. He turned to his mother and shouted, “Fuck You! … Will I ever feel again?” Carter let go and fell to his death. The ritual of the Dark Mother was over. The program had ended.
Gloria didn’t register his fall. Nor did she look over the edge to try and face it. She had already picked up a phone and was dialing. She caught herself and hung up quickly. She just stood there, in the same room as what just happened. The calmness of her alter was still leaving her body. The splintered banshee had returned again to haunt her visions. She decided it was time to redecorate. She shook her head abruptly to reset. She dialed the building lobby again, inconvenienced by the wait for an answer. Her fingers were trembling. She would be feeling the weight of her son’s death soon. But only in tiny confetti pieces.
Gloria Vanderbilt is a bloodline alter. Her entire life was made to run this trauma program. When we say, “These people are stupid,” alters really don’t know what they do. They are born fractured. Like a drone woken up long enough to service the hive till slaughter. To serve the family, each of them must be empty inside. Satan is a vacuous machine, not a consciousness. The Dark Mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, has reinforced her bloodline’s programming with another generation of trauma. She still doesn’t know what really happened.
Go to Part 1, Trauma Programming.