{"id":119559,"date":"2014-05-10T13:55:42","date_gmt":"2014-05-10T13:55:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jonrappoport.wordpress.com\/?p=6229"},"modified":"2014-05-10T13:55:42","modified_gmt":"2014-05-10T13:55:42","slug":"john-f-kennedy-between-worlds-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/editorials\/john-f-kennedy-between-worlds-2\/","title":{"rendered":"John F Kennedy between worlds"},"content":{"rendered":"

John F Kennedy between worlds<\/span><\/p>\n

by Jon Rappoport<\/span><\/p>\n

May 10, 2014<\/span><\/p>\n

www.nomorefakenews.com<\/a> <\/span><\/p>\n

November 22, 1963. Dallas.<\/p>\n

Confusion. Urgent voices. People running. Screams.<\/p>\n

He heard someone say distinctly, \u201cAfter a life on Earth, things get interesting. The pattern breaks.\u201d <\/p>\n

There was a memory. His mother reading to him the story of Babel Tower, and the Tower crashing, and new clean rivers flowing…<\/p>\n

When he went out all the way, that memory collapsed, and he swept through reefs of reflecting data in an ocean of surveillance.<\/p>\n

He tangled in nets and escaped, only to plunge into other layers where avid machinery was spinning, as if searching for crimes where no crimes were possible.<\/p>\n

He felt velvet hands and suctioned fingers slide along him, and he grew cold in the submarine depths. He began to panic.<\/p>\n

What did the Design want with him? <\/p>\n

And why did it seem to be watching itself? <\/p>\n

Then the Arctic chill passed, and he knew he was free of the structure, and was genuinely dying, and dying was a pleasure he had never known.<\/p>\n

\u201cBetter,\u201d he said, luxuriating in a dark baronial calm, uterine perfection, summer childhood bedroom closet. <\/p>\n

He was suddenly in the cabin of a private jet. He’d been told there would be hallucinations. He saw a team of glass archangels; an ashtray worn yellow from ten thousand cigarettes; a framed photo of Al Capone sitting on the toilet in his Palm Springs suite.<\/p>\n

Identity shattered into pieces. The lights of an enormous city loomed up under him, pulling the fragments down into liquor stores, newspaper racks, dark alleys, hotel rooms.<\/p>\n

A news screen stood out in the black sky. A local anchor, her eyes bright with contempt, relayed the story of a lone gunman who had killed the President of the United States.<\/p>\n

Now a quiet snowstorm in a deserted wood, falling, falling, falling on the hard earth. Relief.<\/p>\n

How many times can I disperse? Kennedy wondered. <\/p>\n

He was back in the cabin of the jet. Burnished lights set high in the cabin walls. <\/p>\n

He thought: \u201cI used to own a suit that cost three thousand dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n

A flight attendant entered his cabin with a vodka rocks. <\/p>\n

She was six feet tall and blonde. That made her a target. <\/p>\n

Wealthy and powerful men would seek her out. <\/p>\n

Her body was sleek. He examined her left leg from wizardly articulated ankle to narrow thigh, through the slit of her sheath skirt. She strode in heels, one foot placed precisely in front of the other. <\/p>\n

She set down the drink on the arm of his chair and looked at her watch. <\/p>\n

\u201cWe can’t have sex now,\u201d she said. \u201cWe’re east of the Rockies.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn’t realize they had a law,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n

\u201cTwo hours from now,\u201d she said, \u201cwe can negotiate a price.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was the President,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n

She pulled a half-sheet out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cStandard,\u201d she said. \u201cRead and sign.\u201d<\/p>\n

It stated: \u201c…I am not attempting to slant facts for political advantage\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

He signed.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust out of curiosity,\u201d he said, \u201chow many layers of protection do you have?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d she said, \u201cthe LA Mayor has a local contract. He supplies police and private soldiers whenever I’m in the city.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHave they ever had to go on attack?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA Belivar prince once tried to have his men kidnap me en route from the airport to my hotel. Blackbirton mercs burned them to the ground on Century Boulevard.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou’re John F Kennedy,\u201d she said. \u201cI know. I’m Carol.\u201d<\/p>\n

She held out her hand. He looked at her long fingers. Her nails were short. No polish. He shook her hand. It was cool. It immediately became warm, as if she could make it happen.<\/p>\n

She sat down next to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe’ve intercepted you en route,\u201d she said. \u201cWe need you to ask you a few questions, for the record.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now, another figure walked into the cabin. Allen Dulles. <\/p>\n

Dark soiled clothes, as if he’d stripped them from a corpse in an alley. Pinched face, sunken cheeks. Rimless spectacles.<\/p>\n

\u201cWatch what you say, Mr. President,\u201d he whispered. \u201cI may have had you killed, but I\u2019m untouchable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kennedy laughed, and Dulles melted away in the laughter, along corridors filled with brightly colored puzzle pieces. <\/p>\n

Carol was sitting there calmly.<\/p>\n

Kennedy realized he had been snapped up in transit. From Earth to\u2026whatever came next. They had netted him.<\/p>\n

He heard a grinding roar from a long way off.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d he said. \u201cI can’t help you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carol frowned. \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSomebody’s coming.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

The roar accelerated. He watched as the plane cabin spiraled down to the size of a dot of blood on a handkerchief.<\/p>\n

The wild sound subsided.<\/p>\n

He was in a boat, a wooden boat, at night, and a man was standing next to him. They were on a lake, moving slowly.<\/p>\n

The man reminded him of a doctor his mother had taken him to when he was 12 years old. He’d fallen off his bike racing down a steep hill, and the doctor told his mother everything would be all right, it was just a mild concussion.<\/p>\n

He looked ahead, and in the distance he saw lights of a shoreline. <\/p>\n

\n

\"power<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

The man said, \u201cHere\u2019s what we want to know. It\u2019s simple. Did you really intend to smash the CIA into a thousand pieces? Were you going to get the US out of Vietnam?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho are you?\u201d Kennedy said. \u201cDo you work for a Congressional committee?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d the old man said. \u201cWe just like to keep the record straight.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was a warm summer night. <\/p>\n

Kennedy looked down through the water and saw sky above a small city in the Midwest. Men dressed in black, holding shields and automatic weapons, were storming a clapboard house. They were shooting.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The old man sighed. \u201cIt\u2019s the future. Police. They picked up surveillance chatter. NSA blankets the whole country. The people in that house were behind on their tax payments. They grow marijuana for medical dispensaries.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kennedy shook his head. \u201cWhat?\u201d <\/p>\n

An elevator door opened. A tall piece of muscle in a dark suit stood against the back wall. He was holding a .38 down at his side. He nodded. Kennedy got in. <\/p>\n

They rode up. The door opened, and two more guards in dark suits stood there. Kennedy stepped out.<\/p>\n

One of the guards frisked Kennedy. The other one backed away and watched.<\/p>\n

They sandwiched JFK and walked together down a curving carpeted hallway to a mesh gate. It slid open and they passed through into a small room. A secretary sat behind a table.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Mr. Kennedy\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

The secretary made a fist and rapped her knuckles once on the table. A guard took an envelope out of his inside jacket pocket and placed it in front of her. She picked it up, looked inside, counted the money, and nodded.<\/p>\n

The two security guards grabbed Kennedy\u2019s arms and guided him across the room to another door. One of them opened it and moved ahead, into an office.<\/p>\n

It was large with no windows. The walls were dull dented metal. The only pieces of furniture were a long white couch and two scarred wooden folding chairs. A bull’s-head man, dressed in a tan suit, sat on the couch. Big chest, big belly, cheap shoes. Weary face. <\/p>\n

He frowned. \u201cMr. Kennedy, I represent the CEO of Planet Earth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe CEO of what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlanet Earth is a kind of company. We aren\u2019t here to explain that situation. We want to know whether you were prepared to smash the CIA into a thousand pieces, and whether you truly intended to get the US out of Vietnam.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd why do you care?\u201d Kennedy said.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause we like to keep accurate history. Our books are, of course, held very privately. But it helps us to know the truth.\u201d <\/p>\n

As Kennedy started to speak, he heard a sound of upper crashing, at long, long distance.<\/p>\n

A slow fall.<\/p>\n

It might take centuries, but it was irreversible.<\/p>\n

And now a dull silent depersonalized giant materialized next to him.<\/p>\n

The giant was watching the world, making sure all non-human factors were in place and spinning, functioning. He was the machine and the architecture of spying. Surveillance. He was the exemplar of no-dream. He was the stand-in for life and death. He was the soldier. The robot. No awareness. No awareness of anything. <\/p>\n

Nobody. Nobody at all. Just a clock on a wall wound up to eat the universe.<\/p>\n

Kennedy heard the long faraway crashing sound again. <\/p>\n

He’d heard that sound as a boy, when his mother read him the story of the Tower of Babel, which he imagined was a great fort holding soldiers.<\/p>\n

The Tower went down, and the endless number of liberated languages made a new world.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Kennedy said. \u201cYes to both of your questions. I would have destroyed the CIA and taken us out of Vietnam. I guess that\u2019s why they took me out.\u201d<\/p>\n

The big man said, \u201cAll right, it\u2019s in the book. You\u2019re free to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

The office and the men were now an old cartoon flaming up and bending and curling and turning gray.<\/p>\n

John Kennedy was sitting in a chair in a library. French doors were open. He stood up and walked out into a summer afternoon.<\/p>\n

He saw a beach.<\/p>\n

A black dog, shaking water from his flanks, ran toward him with a stick in his mouth.<\/p>\n

He laid the stick down at Kennedy\u2019s feet.<\/p>\n

JFK picked up the stick and threw it toward the waves.<\/p>\n

He heard three shots, felt a pain in his head, and then the pain was gone.<\/p>\n

He felt light.<\/p>\n

He walked along the sand.<\/p>\n

After a time, a young man in slacks and T-shirt came up to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Kennedy,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019m from the Visitors Bureau. You can sign on for a new life back on Earth. Of course, there are several Earths. For example, we can send you to one where there was never a CIA or a Vietnam. It\u2019s quite a friendly place. You\u2019ll be born into a fairly sane society.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kennedy stopped walking. \u201cBut,\u201d he said, \u201cI can go back\u2026to the Earth I just left, the one that still has a CIA?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d the young man said. \u201cYou\u2019ll be born in the year 1965.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kennedy nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll take it,\u201d he said. \u201cYou know, I wasn\u2019t that nice a guy. I certainly was no saint. I screwed up a lot. But I did realize a few things when I was in the White House. I\u2019m not interested in trying that route again\u2026but I would like to take another crack at some of the bad guys.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was gone from the beach.<\/p>\n

A short time later, a baby was born at the Massachusetts General Hospital. He came out of his mother with his fists clenched. A nurse said, \u201cHe has an eager little face.\u201d Three words echoed in his mind, words he would remember years later:<\/p>\n

The Warren Commission. <\/p>\n

Jon Rappoport<\/span><\/p>\n

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/span>, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/span>, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/span>, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29<\/span>th<\/span><\/sup> District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at <\/span>www.nomorefakenews.com<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Filed under: Energy & Imagination<\/a> \"\"<\/a> \"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

John F Kennedy between worlds by Jon Rappoport May 10, 2014 www.nomorefakenews.com November 22, 1963. Dallas. Confusion. Urgent voices. People running. Screams. He heard someone say distinctly, “After a life on Earth, things get interesting. The pattern breaks.” There was a memory. His mother reading to him the story of Babel Tower, and the Tower […]\"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1225,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[461],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-119559","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-editorials"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/119559","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1225"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=119559"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/119559\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=119559"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=119559"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/rinf.com\/alt-news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=119559"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}