Chapter ONE

"A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never return to its old dimensions." - Oliver Wendell Holmes

I sometimes think loneliness and depression redirect our destiny. It changes the course of our existence and causes us to travel down an unknown path. We start to find consolation in destruction, or peace in someone else’s suffering. We sometimes try to find the meaning behind chaos, and fortitude among followers and like minded thinkers. These searches change destiny and direct us to enlightenment from the most uncommon of places.

Yet enlightenment has its price, for nothing is free and nothing is without consequence. Becoming enlightened…exposure and acceptance of the TRUTH, the reality, the horrible possibilities...is very much like taking the "wrong" pill as Neo did in The Matrix.

Conspiracy can only be described as a pull on your senses from an unseen string, directing you to sources of information you never knew existed. Finding that one topic, that one shred of interest is all it takes. From here you fall, spiraling down the abyss of information, traveling in a direction that can only go one way. This is how it starts, and this is how it ends. Once you know in your heart that everything you were taught to believe is a facade, your eyes become permanently open, to the point of discomfort. There no longer exists moisture to rinse the scum off...it just itches and burns; begging you to do something, ANYTHING for relief. But there is no relief. I find there is no more innocence to watching television, reading the newspaper or listening to political debates. When you accept the possibility of conspiracy, you then see conspiracy in everything.

Conspiracies exist because of the strong element of possibility. Conspiracies are not for the follower, or the person that trusts or wants to trust. Conspiracies are for the free thinkers, the radical minds of those unwilling to conform simply because they’re told to, the ones who seek deeper meaning and purpose in the chaos that surrounds them.

As deeply buried among the millions of other places like it, places that feed the insatiable appetite of doom seekers, this one stood out, unique and enthralling as anything else my life has ever experienced. By accident, I discovered this home away from home, a refuge from my suicidal delusions and sometimes overwhelming depression. It’s a place where I wasn’t alone in how I felt, and in some cases, my existence shined a little brighter among my peers.

It started innocently enough. My usual morning coffee, glances through the newspaper, followed by the mundane routine of opening up the office for another lost 8 hours. The terror attacks of 9/11 were two years ago, though I remember that day as if it were happening again, right before my eyes. I recalled in silent awe how beautifully perfectly those two towers fell; questioning even now the logic of what I had witnessed. There aired no false reports at that time, what we saw on our TV screens was what was happening. The shock of witnessing the deaths of people when there should’ve been early morning cartoons was distracting, to say the least. My thoughts shifted to fate. I watched with incredible respect, those few individuals who chose for themselves the way they wanted to die; dying as soldiers of their own destiny and not as helpless victims. It was liberating to see how some of those people openly accepted their fate, almost embracing it, their last moments alive. I wondered then if they knew, waking up that morning, that they would die. I wondered if anyone knew what that day would entail.

In the days following those attacks, I too raised my American flag up high, shaking my fists in anger at the enemy I’m told to hate. This was the day I saw my political birth. I believed the reports, the information slowly and meticulously being provided, yet still ignoring the endless ramblings of renegades blatantly questioning what they were told.

On this day, two years later, sitting at my desk with a hot cup of coffee awaiting my first sip, I stared at my computer screen, once again reflecting back on those falling towers. Had anyone else made the comparisons I did? Those towers fell in the exact same manner as hundreds of other professionally demolished buildings had fallen. The work I had to would take at most an hour or so of my time, so I decided to utilize the highly publicized highway of information, and find some truth.

I typed in the search “WTC Towers”, which gifted me, as expected, with over a million hits of pictures, stories and links all endlessly leading me in the opposite direction. To narrow my search, I typed next, “9/11 WTC.” More images, only this time of the towers burning, the planes impacting and debris scattering everywhere. Quickly scanning through the different links, looking for keywords that would draw my attention, I repeatedly saw the word “conspiracy” used.

I’ve never been interested in conspiracy. The closest exposure I’d ever had was the Mel Gibson movie about that very subject. But it made sense. Is it possible that the destruction of those towers was planned? I thought back to my history classes in college, and how many thought Pearl Harbor’s infamous attack was known in advance or maybe even planned in an effort to get us involved in the war. Casually I compared the kamikaze attacks on our battleships to the aircraft attacks in New York and Washington DC. I typed in the search window “9/11 Conspiracy”, and was not disappointed at the influx of information pouring onto my screen. It became obvious at this point, just how many people felt exactly as I did regarding those towers. I clicked and read link after link, finding evidence upon evidence from various sources. There were postings from steel workers, airline personnel, witnesses, analysts, scientists, FBI informants. The list went on and on, all sharing their unique opinions and assessments in their field of expertise. The more I read, the more it became obvious that this was no accident.

Then I clicked on IT. This website was home to an eclectic group of diverse individuals who all shared one common element of distrust. The name of the website was not appealing to me at all. God Like Premiere? I was NOT a religious person and did NOT want to be inundated with bible talk from another false “know it all” telling me this event on 9/11 was prophesied. I’m not really sure why I clicked on that link, but I did. It was not at all what I expected. It was a forum. I quickly skimmed through the list of topics being discussed, and was enthralled by one particular post from a person calling himself Aussie Bloke. Like the first taste of heroin to a drug addict, his post had me instantly hooked.

His thread stayed at the top of the listings, with pages and pages of opinionated contributions. I clicked on the link and was taken aback by the language and awful spelling Aussie Bloke was using. But his message was loud. He spoke of being a scientist, an astronomer to be exact, working out of Australia. He claimed to be exposing a conspiracy of secrecy about impending doom. Apparently our demise will come not at the hand of God, massive biological outbreak or nuclear explosion, but at the discretion of an impact from space. Three to be exact. Needless to say I was very entertained. I was highly disbelieving, but entertained nonetheless, so much so that it distracted me from my initial agenda regarding the 9/11 conspiracy. This distraction, I would later appreciate, was necessary and incredibly educational.

The more pages I read, comparing the opinions of those who believed with those who didn’t, complemented by the efforts of Aussie Bloke to be more credible, I found myself falling victim to the maps he linked showing the time, date and impact sites, customized with a NASA emblem to add more credibility. I became gullibly afraid and excited at the same time. This was to be my painful induction into the world of GLP. As the dates came and went without incident, I found myself disappointed. I had so hoped a change of this magnitude would take place; that I would die in this fantastic manner and gracefully float in time/space as a spirit free from stress and heartache. I became calloused. I learned the hard way that GLP was a playground for creative thinkers, or pot stirrers as some had called them. Aussie Bloke was by far the most impressive poster of this genre. Even though I found myself disappointed at such a fizzled conclusion to his invested creativity, I was also addicted to the feeling of excitement that potential doom gave me. I wanted more, and GLP did not disappoint me.

I was fed doom after doom, quenching my desire for ultimate global destruction with scenarios ranging from secret disclosures of suitcase nuke attacks from a former call girl whose political customers liked to talk, the super volcano of Yellowstone getting ready to blow, annihilating everything and everyone in a 100 sq mile radius, to the Avian Flu being intentionally manufactured as a tool for population control supported and even funded by the Pharmaceutical companies. Yet, as distracting as these discussions were, the most interesting threads and bits of information were the ones regarding 9/11. The more I became conditioned and less enthusiastic about global destruction, the more adamant I became in exposing to myself the government secrets surrounding that fateful day.

Now, you may be wondering why I mentioned this website, which has now been long discontinued. This is where my story began. I was baptized there, ordained as an official conspiracy theorist and acclimated to the bullshit one must sift through to find the truth. GLP, above all else, was a wonderful site for information. GLP was an open forum, not just to those in the USA, but globally. We learned how differently an event is reported from one nation to another, each media source sharing only the information they want their citizens to know. When you have this much access to what’s being reported you can start to see the truth behind the smokescreen of lies our own media feeds us. I not only learned about hoaxes, doom, and 9/11 theories, but also about the Quran, Muslim ideals, Islamic connections, Al Qaeda, Bin Laden, and most importantly, indisputable facts that supported my original reasons for taking on this quest for information, and how frighteningly connected were all these subjects.

GLP was home to computer geniuses, scientists, school teachers, theologians, thespians, authors, mathematicians, astronomers, astrologers, housewives, spouses, lovers, homosexuals, pagans, Christians, you name it, GLP was host to it. This diverse group of various experiences and references was the most important tool in finding the truth. It was also the perfect example of how diversity causes conflict. Strongly opinionated individuals were also the most easily offended. I learned that sometimes it’s an individual’s reaction that tells you more than the words they typed for all to see. These amazing individuals and their personal experiences were my biggest tools for truth. They had access to links, videos, phone recordings, images, etc. of “truth” than anyone else I knew. There were a few members who frequented this site as regularly as I did that exposed me to more 9/11 truth then my own conspiracy filled fantasies could fathom. Because GLP was an open haven for free thinkers and unrestricted expression it was heavily monitored by certain individuals hired to intentionally debunk or distract us from information we weren’t supposed to know. Aussie Bloke, as it was later discovered, was exactly that, an intentionally created character meant to pull our attention away from the few enlightening 9/11 threads being posted until those threads could be deleted without notice.

You have to ask yourself at this point, do you really want to know the truth? Knowing the truth is a burden and once you carry this burden you then take on a certain responsibility. You can never go back.