The Reptiles Could Be Watching You
by Jess Miller
Just after the Gulf War I was at my home, then in London, when the phone rang
and a Canadian fishing guide - who I had never heard of - asked if I had one
of the fishing reels named after his grandfather. I did indeed have one in my
collection, but it was not for sale. However he continued to tell me how
desperate he was to buy it and so I quoted him what I thought was a high
price. Not having the money to be able to purchase it, he then offered to
guide me for a week on British Columbia's Dean River in exchange for the reel.
I had fished the Dean many years previously and a wondrous river and superbly
powerful place it is too, with forested mountains rising from the often
green, glacial river and Grizzly and Black Bears all over the place. Wild and
powerful is how I would describe it and the Steelhead that run the Dean are
some of the finest British Columbia has to offer. Well I was going to visit a
friend in Vancouver anyway and so I agreed to the guide's proposition.
So in time there we were camped in single tents on the banks of the Dean. We
had flown in from Bella Coola to the tiny gravel airstrip and then had a
drive over a really rough track up to where we had decided to camp and began
to fish immediately.
On the second day the guide said to me,
"I want you to meet Dick Cheney."
I was taken aback and looked at him for an explanation.
"You know, Dick Cheney, the ex-U.S. Secretary of Defence." Well I of course
knew who Cheney was, but we were miles into the wilderness of British
Columbia in amongst the bears, so what the hell was this guy on about?
"He's coming in as we go out and I want you to meet him."
That was all that was said, I just shrugged and began to wonder whether the
guide had a full set of marbles. We continued fishing and what with all the
bear activity and releasing spectacular Steelhead back into the Dean, the
Cheney proposition completely left my mind. So the week ended and we arrived
back at the gravel airstrip to find a light plane being unloaded by a couple
of guys and another fellow standing to one side, dressed in a sort of
overcoat, not the type of thing you go into the wilderness of British
Columbia wearing. This man made a beeline for my guide and they turned away
from me and engaged in a seemingly deeply serious and somewhat animated
discussion.
Having been brought up to have manners I moved off two or three metres and
stood patiently waiting until they had finished. Meanwhile the two who were
unloading the plane were not happy about my doing this and one in particular
kept eyeing me until eventually he stopped doing what he was doing and stood
and looked at me. I just smiled, feeling a little awkward and also feeling
that in a moment he was going to start something. His attitude was hostile
and I was beginning to feel that something was really wrong when my guide and
the other man turned to me.
"Oh, and this is Jess Miller from London. Jess Miller, Dick Cheney."
I held out my hand as it dawned on me that it was Cheney and said,
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cheney. You'll be pleased to hear that I've left
you some Steelhead in the river because that's what we Englishmen like to do
for our fellow human beings." I don't know why I said it, it just came out,
but I'm always joking when I'm fishing, that's the way I am.
Cheney was facing me, but never looked me in the eyes, instead he looked
steadfastly at my solar plexus, grunted at my remark and then looked at the
ground at our feet. A few seconds later he walked over to his two companions
and that was my one and only meeting with Dick Cheney ended and I must say I
was glad that it was. I had felt awkward, uncomfortable and uneasy around
him.
I put it out of my mind and we flew out back to Bella Coola.
It stayed out of my mind for the years afterwards as my life turned into a
nightmarish procession of evil people ripping me off and gradually my
finances waned to almost nothing. I was ill quite a lot and homeopathy helped
me greatly. Finally I was poisoned in a murder attempt and the people made
off owing me a large amount of money, which I will never see again. I
survived full blown clinical depression, brought on by the arsenic based
biological agent I had been administered, much to my toxicologist's
amazement, but at least I am alive and happily starting out again from a zero
financial base.
Then, around June 1999, I was told about David Icke and I got hold of some of
his books and read them. I had only heard about him previously around 1990
when he had undergone some sort of revelation and the British Establishment
took him apart on television, about which I remember feeling uncomfortable at
the time. Since then I had heard nothing more of him. I dropped The Biggest
Secret three times whilst reading it and I'm not that clumsy. When Cheney was
mentioned (in a dark light) it all came flooding back to me and I began to
think more and more about what had happened and I remembered a couple of
astonishing things.
When we had been fishing the Dean the guide had told me that when Saddam
Hussein invaded Kuwait, Cheney and his two Navy SEALS had been on the Dean.
Cheney had run the war right from the Dean using a briefcase satellite
communication system whilst they flew him out to Bella Coola, where a US
fighter was waiting to fly him into Washington.
It also dawned on me, with a sickening shock that made me re-examine
everything in even more detail, that when Saddam went into Kuwait and Cheney
was on the Dean, I had been ski-ing at Kelowna in the interior of British
Columbia, just a few hundred miles from the Dean, and I had injured my back
and had sat and watched the first six days of the war on CNN.
I began to realise that I had been close to Cheney at that time as well and
that the guide had inveigled me back to the Dean specifically to meet Cheney.
But why? Why me, a total no nobody? I decided to try and meet David Icke and
ask him.
My first attempt was on a Cape Talk radio programme (South Africa) that was a
disaster, but which I now realise completely benefited David Icke by getting
people who were sitting on the fence about his views about our world to come
down on his side. I called into the programme and put the Cheney meeting to
him, but the idiot interviewer who was doing her best to wreck his getting
his message out, never let him reply, which not only annoyed me but a lot of
other people, thus persuading them to Icke's cause.
As I am not easily stopped from doing things that I set my mind on I went to
David Icke's book signing at the Cape Town Waterfront, where I managed to sit
and talk to him for some ten minutes. He seemed affable and was interested as
soon as I mentioned Cheney. When I told him Cheney had been on the Dean a
previous time, when Saddam went into Kuwait, he immediately said to me,
"Cheney must go to this Dean River to get something, there is some power
there that he needs. Draw me a map of where it is and describe it to me."
I did so and described the awesome mountains rising from the river, creating
a valley that makes its own weather. Then I asked the question he had been
unable to answer on the radio programme,
"My question was, David, can a Reptilian - which you might call a full
Reptilian bloodline - by touching a real human being (which I believe I am)
somehow alter their magnetic/electrical output, which we call our aura, and
in some way make the person easily found and more accessible to lesser
bloodlines who wish to do them harm?"
"Of course they can, they have the ancient knowledge that they've stopped the
rest of us from having," was his immediate reply.
"So that's probably how all these evil people were able to locate me and take
me right down." I said to myself. "But why?"
If you have any personal knowledge about Dick Cheney or about the Dean River
- North of Vancouver then North of Bella Coola - please get in touch with me
in the strictest confidence. I am: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Some eighteen months ago the same guide suddenly tried to get in touch with
me again, but was blocked by a friend of mine. I wonder what he wanted,
because at that time I was almost exiting this world via the depths of
clinical depression.
I have recently met someone who became ill with poisoning after shaking hands
with Bill Clinton and Al Gore. This person has also told me that Kerry
Packer, the Australian media magnate, is a Reptilian. Do you have any input
on this?
Aftermath:
During clinical depression I was suffering from pain in my solar plexus.
Dreadful pain it was and it would not lessen. I lost a huge amount of weight
and couldn't sleep for months. I was cured in part by a genius Chakra healer
who, with no prior knowledge, identified my chest/emotional Chakra as
'missing' and healed me so that today I am complete once more.
Cheney stared at that Chakra and then at the ground, as if concentrating his
mind on something.
Can you help with any input? If so please get in touch with me.
LifeTraveller.
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
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