Kerth is gone

My dear friend of 50 years and fellow warrior Kerth Barker has passed away.

A child rights activist, a witness and a survivor of some of the most horrific nazi science and satanic evil ever inflicted on a child by the transnational corporo-governmental-intelligence-satanic complex.   He went through hell and came out the other side, and then dared to write about and expose them, an act of courage for which he ultimately gave his life.

I won’t get into the details, he wrote seven books about it which you can find on amazon (until they remove them anyway).   He escaped his formal induction into a satanic cult by sticking his foot into a lawnmower shortly before he was due for the “marriage of the beast” ceremony.   He avoided lethal consequences  by a fortunate circumstance involving giving a rare book to his satanic overlord.   But he was not to be free of them.   After he began publishing his memoirs, we  believe he was ambushed by a “hit squad” of young people at a shopping mall where he made frequent visits.   He found a small puncture wound on his arm afterward.   He thought it might be an insect sting.  The nose bleed (the first sign of the cancer) started about a week later.

Around the time of the mower incident, when we were in our mid-teens, I was in his bedroom and noticed a drawing of someone tied down to a table with blood draining out and someone standing over  the body with a knife.  I asked him about it and he tried to explain.   You have to understand I was just a typical american teenager studying science in high school and here’s my best friend talking about human sacrifice and devil worship.  I thought he was either joking or too high or just crazy.   It made no sense to me at all.   I only remembered the event recently, that’s how irrelevant it seemed to me at the time, but of course to him it must have been a terrible blow.   He was all alone.   That’s the kind of skinner-box prison these monsters can build around a young person’s life.

A few months ago before he became bed ridden he told Patricia and I some things that didn’t make it into his last book because he hadn’t remembered until then.   MK-Ultra is about trauma, dissociation and memory fragmentation after all.  Recalling it was totally retraumatizing to him.

The fabians worked for the government.   They were MK-ultra researchers who had gotten disillusioned with the project and felt guilty about what they had done to Kerth (they wrote the instructions which the satanists followed in his programming).   He didn’t find out until the day they suicided, apparently under orders of whoever was above them.   They must have angered someone and I guess they had kids that were threatened or something.   The fabians “suburban home” turned out to be in a secluded military base made to look like a suburban neighborhood somewhere outside st louis.   The house was just camouflage for, and an access point to a huge underground warehouse, far bigger than the  footprint of the house itself.   He never saw the whole thing, but there were many rows of filing cabinets, and an operating room with blood drains and refrigerators nearby containing human body parts in jars.   One of them contained the head of Kerth’s identical infant twin, who he never knew existed.   They must have been born while the mother was under sedation.   They were an experiment.

Kerth was given a guided tour of all this by Old Jack, who had also become disillusioned and turned out to be an air force lieutenant who was saluted by guards at the entrance to the base.   Kerth had passed the entrance many times blindfolded, but he recognized the sounds and the curves.

Needless to say he could barely speak of all this.

Around 2am shortly before he died, he was dreaming or in a coma, I’m not sure which.   I heard him exclaim loudly and distinctly: “Oh!  So much Love!”   Those were his last words.

Amazing Grace.


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