Evidence of the deep, transformational power of Independent Being
Public officials change sides…

This column is one of the several one-page ‘interlodes’ included in my novel, The Truman Prophecy, set to reach the Amazon bookstore—unless ‘banned’ by some executive there [for exposing criminal conspiracies of state (like the book Nobody Died at Sandy Hook)]— on or about February 8th of this year. — bw

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What she didn’t tell Mr. Sally was that she had reached a personal breaking point with this Homeland Security business. Ana had come on board in 2012 with a mixture of hero-worship and strange desire for the then-secretary of DHS, Janet Napolitano. They were close to the same age.

Ana identified with Nappy’s pluck, becoming attorney general (top state law enforcement henchperson) then governor (top state mob boss) of Arizona and inserting herself as she did, at the highest level, into the male-dominated world of America-(.AND. for chrissakes, Israel!)-Über-Alles state security. Lord knows the Divine Ms. N. didn’t get to the top of her profession of beating the peons into submission by sleeping her way there. Moreover, Ana deeply admired Janet for standing tall against those ugly rumors of same-sex orientation.

Janet’s dictum: “If I’m Gay Big Sister, make the most of it!”

Ana also warmed to Janet’s statements that anyone who criticized or made fun of the Department should be subject to prosecution for, well, “aiding and abetting terrorism,” as Ana recalled. [Though as far as Ana could determine, no statute for such a crime was ever forthcoming.]

Ana—after a lifetime of being diminished by anyone who got too close to her—so identified with what heroine Janet had likewise appeared to have gone thru. Ana even had met Janet—be still, my heart—once, at a state dinner, with all the high muckety-mucks moving around … “she had me at hello…” or was that jello?

But enough romantic reverie…

This whole business emerging from the Truman Prophecy had caused Ana to reevaluate her life. For one thing, that doggone Spiritual Magic Move the Prophet had thrown in there—probably at the last minute—had tempted Ana into a trial. She applied the five steps of SM2 one night a month ago when she was having trouble sleeping. Bingo. She found her Deep Quiet, stayed there for a transcendant eternity of a few minutes, then fell into the most restoring sleep she’d ever experienced.

“Whoa! I don’t know what this guy is selling, but I’m buying!” she felt.

One thing led to another, more magic move sessions. She started breathing better, her health improved, she lost weight, she even stopped going into convulsions when Everett forgot her triple-lattes in the morning. Instead of ‘Monkey Brain from the Dark Side’ controlling ‘her,’ ‘she’ was learning to wag her mind. And the more she came in charge, she saw in a heartbeat that the Prophecy was right and needed to be fulfilled. Whoops!

Like a 1980s Russian gymast in New York, Ana was going to defect.

The icing on the cake for her decision came her encounters with Dr. Balph Bufort and Colonel Trenton Farquardt. Psychos and Sleazos and Bears, OH MY. These guys were certifiable! And the Janet Napolitanos and Analyst Smiths of the world were merely polite-society enablers and conduits to a Medieval fantasy, multidenominational Hell of concentration camps, torture chambers, and mainstream news 24/7.

Ana would leverage her position to aid the Independents’ cause.