Cathy O’Brien

Rachel and I agreed to meet in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater in Hollywood.  The Hollywood-Highland complex has abundant parking and Rachel coming from West L.A. and myself, the Valley, it’s a convenient compromise place to meet.  I haven’t told her what the surprise is because I’m disinclined to let my adversaries know any future time and place I might be.  There are reasons why I haven’t ended up like Lee Bowers and other Warren Commission witnesses.  Walking down Hollywood Blvd. in between dodging Superman, Batman, Marilyn Monroe and other celebrity look-alike street performers, I informed Rachel we were going to a lecture by Cathy O’Brien.  Cathy O’Brien claims to be a CIA mind control sex slave (MKULTRA) who escaped after she was no longer of use to CIA.  I had lent my copy of her book, “Transformation in America,” to Rachel and Rachel seemed fascinated.  I mentioned the lecture was being held in a Church and Rachel, being Jewish, I didn’t know if this was going to be a problem.  I asked her if she was going to burn up upon entering the Church.  “You mean like the witch in ‘The Wizard of Oz?’  No.”

We turned left on Highland and the Church about a block away warned evil in all its gothic splendor.  Each few steps I could feel Rachel’s apprehension increasing.  “This isn’t an intervention is it?” she said, partly in jest partly not.  I laughed.  The thought of Rachel being kidnapped by strangers and held for hours being told over and over of Jesus’s love and goodness caused me some mirth.  “No,” I assured her. Besides, if Rachel became a Jew for Jesus who would chastise me for giving money to the homeless or make me pick up change that has fallen from my pocket.  Oh well.  I guess there are reasons why she has money and I don’t.  Not this time, Rachel.  No intervention.

Upon paying our admittance fee and entering the Church, two tables filled with books greeted us.  Rachel and I, being able to read though we live in Los Angeles, gravitate toward books so we looked them over.  One table has Cathy O’Brien’s books, etc., and the other featured a book titled, “CIA Doctors,” which grabbed my attention.  The program had just started so we hurried into the Church proper and sat down in one of the back pews.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rachel taking in the interior of the Church – the impossibly high ceiling, medieval architecture, the large white cross behind the speakers’ platform.  You half expected Thomas Moore or, more appropriate, Jonathan Edwards to come out and scare the hell out of you with one of his fire and brimstone sermons.  Rachel seemed surprised and impressed.  Is that a little bit of awe I see in her eyes?  I realized this was her first time in a Church.  Yes, Rachel.  This is how the Goyim worship their Christ and God. I wondered what the inside of a Synagogue looked like.  Probably a table in the center with an open deck of cards.  “Anyone feel like being taken?  I mean playing a game of cards.”

Another speaker came on and addressed the crowd.  I know her.  Christine Blosdale.  Christine is a producer at the local Pacifica Public Radio Station.  I met her when trying to get on the show to talk about the RFK murder.  I didn’t get on the program but did give her a copy of my book, “JFK vs CIA.”  I excused myself telling Rachel I wanted to look over the books in the lobby but there was another reason.  A stunning young blonde, maybe twenty, was seated in a chair taking proceeds from book and merchandise sales.  I noticed her when entering the Church.  Dripping in beauty, irresistible, with a degree of beauty that leaves men speechless.  I had to have another glance before I died.  Picking up “CIA Doctors” I listened with my big ears to the conversation she was having with a man.  She too was a CIA mind control slave and when she realized what was happening she escaped, contacted Cathy O’Brien and then started working for her.  She could have told me she was from the planet “Dorf” and I would have believed her.  The “Presidential Model,” I could see it.  No man, politician or businessman, priest or cop could resist such beauty coming at him.  Let a few words from her mouth drop in your ears and you are through no matter how strong.  No matter how pure.  Game over.  CIA really knows what it is doing.  But this is not thirty years ago.  The game is still being played.  Obama is in deep shit, I thought.

I re-enter the Church proper and Roseanne Barr is speaking.  I wonder what the actress has to do with MKULTRA or if CIA tried to bring her under control as well.  Good luck with that.  She sure is enthusiastic about Cathy O’Brien and holding the government accountable.  Next came a presentation by Colin Ross, M.D., and author of “CIA Doctors.”  I paid strict attention.  One or more of these doctors programmed Sirhan.

After Cathy gave her speech Rachel and I headed for the lobby and tables.  I wanted to speak to Colin Ross but he was taking his sweet time getting to his table to sign books.  I told Rachel I wanted to say hi to Christine and went back inside to scout her out.  Rachel followed.  She never seems surprised by the people I know.  As Christine came up the aisle I stopped her.  I could tell she recognized the face but couldn’t put together the when or where.

“Mike Calder – JFK vs CIA,” I said, helping her.  She broke into a big grin.  “Oh yeah!  Your book is in my bathroom.”  Nice to know my book is used for distraction by guests in their time of need.

“I’d like to meet Dr. Ross.  Would you introduce us?”

“Sure,” she said.  “Hang out near the book table and I’ll go find him.”

Rachel and I headed back to the lobby with Rachel standing in line to meet Cathy O’Brien and I at Dr. Ross’s table.  I watched as Rachel evaluated Cathy as though she was figuring out a puzzle.  Is Cathy O’Brien real or not?  What tit bit can Rachel pick up that will help her make that determination?  Finally, Colin Ross shows up and begins signing books with Christine next to him.  I wait my turn.  He goes to sign my copy and I wave him off.  “In September I flew to New York and was debriefed by William Pepper, Sirhan Sirhan’s new attorney.  I know he is looking for someone qualified to interview Sirhan in prison.”  Dr. Ross either didn’t hear me or it didn’t register.  Annoyed, I repeated speaking slower and giving the brief version.  “I’m in contact with Sirhan Sirhan.”  Dr. Ross jumped to his feet.  “Sirhan’s new lawyer is looking for someone qualified in dissociative disorders, hypnotism and mind control to interview Sirhan in prison.  Do you know anyone who would be interested?”  Dr. Ross said, “I’m interested.”  I told him I would let Sirhan’s legal team know and if interested they would be in contact.  “Christine knows me,” I added and Christine started telling him about my book, etc.

Rachel and I left, headed back to Highland and Hollywood.  I walked her to valet parking and waited until her Mercedes was brought around.  She hopped in as I waved goodbye, then I proceeded down the escalator where the peons park their cars.  Finding my fading 96 Hyundai accent and checking that I had the ten dollar parking fee, I made my escape heading back to North Hollywood, home of would-be actors and half the population of Michoacan, Mexico.

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