The misogynist masculine is only the aggressive part of the Divine Feminine.
The vampiric masculine “mad scientists” separated themselves out. It is THEY who came from WOMBman (not she from he). Now, they need to get back into the Mother, because SHE IS the antidote for their failed scientific experiments to become greater than the WOMBman, who grows bones inside her own body and brings them forth in Life.
These mutations cannot hold temperance energy without “consuming” the Mother essence. They NEED these sacrifices in order to hold themselves in check. They hypersexxualize everything because they harvest the energy of their victims to hold themselves in temperance. They must harvest the “antidote” from those who are original, organic, beings who were not modified, who are Source connected, who have gifts from those connections, so they can pretend they belong to them, infiltrate those regions, those realms.
It appears that only those who took on the genetics of animals have been affected adversely. Who knows what they’ve been injecting into people. Atrazine, which changes the gender in frogs, is in humanities water supply. Hyper sexxualized, hyper driven by pain or suffering energy, they went dark, thinking they could simply consume all that is life, that carries light.
Whack jobs calling themselves scientists and leaders. It’s a mad, mad world.
Thirty-one-year-old Eleanor Hartwell dies at Connecticut psychiatric hospital on June 12, 1930, from hyperthermia after being locked in fever cabinet heated to 106 degrees for three hours as treatment for “melancholia” that psychiatrist Dr. Wagner believed required inducing artificial fever to “shock brain into normal function.” Eleanor was institutionalized eight months ago after postpartum depression following stillbirth—grieving, unable to function, husband committed her for psychiatric treatment. Wagner diagnosed melancholia requiring aggressive intervention, prescribed fever cabinet therapy—new experimental treatment using heated box to induce high fever, theory being extreme temperature would reset brain chemistry.
Eleanor is stripped naked, locked in wooden cabinet with only head exposed, cabinet interior heated to 106 degrees by steam pipes, body temperature rises to dangerous levels while Wagner monitors believing fever will cure depression. Eleanor begs for release after thirty minutes—cabinet is unbearable, she’s burning, can’t breathe hot air. Wagner refuses—protocol requires three hours at target temperature, early termination compromises treatment, Eleanor’s discomfort is necessary for therapeutic benefit.
Eleanor spends three hours experiencing life-threatening hyperthermia while Wagner documents her responses, records vital signs, watches her die from heat exposure he’s inducing for psychiatric treatment.
This tintype from 1930 shows Eleanor two hours into treatment, age thirty-one, locked in fever cabinet with face showing extreme distress. Only her head is visible protruding from wooden box—face is bright red, dripping sweat, eyes unfocused from heat exposure. Thermometer shows cabinet interior at 106 degrees, Eleanor’s body temperature is 105.8 degrees—approaching fatal hyperthermia. Dr. Wagner stands beside cabinet taking notes—recording Eleanor’s responses, documenting treatment progress, observing patient’s deterioration as experimental data. Behind him, other psychiatrists observe—learning fever cabinet technique, discussing Eleanor’s symptoms, considering adopting treatment for their own institutions. Eleanor has been in cabinet for two hours, has one hour remaining, is experiencing dangerous hyperthermia Wagner believes will cure her melancholia. Cabinet is locked, Eleanor can’t escape, must endure full three hours regardless of physical damage. Wagner calculates she can survive temperature for treatment duration, considers her suffering necessary cost of psychiatric cure. Eleanor is dying from induced fever Wagner calls medicine, experiencing heat torture psychiatrist calls healing.
Eleanor dies at 3:47 PM—body temperature reaches 107.2 degrees, organs fail from hyperthermia, dies while still locked in fever cabinet Wagner heated to cure her depression. Wagner documents death as “treatment complication,” notes fever induced successfully but patient couldn’t tolerate therapeutic temperature, recommends reducing duration for future treatments. Hospital reports Eleanor died from complications of melancholia, doesn’t mention she was killed by experimental fever treatment, tells husband psychiatric condition proved fatal despite aggressive intervention.
Eleanor’s body shows heat damage—internal organs cooked from hyperthermia, brain damage from elevated temperature, evidence she died from being heated to 106 degrees for three hours.
Wagner faces no consequences—fever cabinet therapy was experimental but accepted psychiatric treatment, Eleanor’s death was treatment risk not malpractice, psychiatric innovation requires accepting patient casualties. Wagner continues using fever cabinet on other patients, reduces treatment to two hours, continues believing induced hyperthermia cures mental illness, kills additional patients before fever therapy is eventually abandoned in 1940s.
Eleanor’s husband discovered truth in 1965 through hospital records—found photographs, treatment notes, evidence Eleanor was heated to death treating postpartum depression. Testimony from nurse who witnessed treatment: “Eleanor Hartwell died from fever cabinet treatment at Connecticut hospital in 1930. She was 31, had postpartum depression after stillbirth. Dr. Wagner said melancholia required fever therapy. Locked Eleanor in wooden cabinet, heated interior to 106 degrees. Kept her there 3 hours. Eleanor begged for release after 30 minutes. Wagner refused, said full treatment was necessary. I watched her dying from heat. Body temperature reached 107.2 degrees.
Organs failed. She died locked in cabinet. Wagner called it treatment complication. Hospital told husband psychiatric condition proved fatal.
Eleanor died from being heated to 106 degrees treating depression that didn’t require killing her with hyperthermia. That photograph shows Eleanor locked in fever cabinet. Shows Dr. Wagner monitoring. Shows patient dying from psychiatric treatment. That’s how asylums treated depression in 1930. Heated patients until organs failed.”
Richard Jenne was the last known person killed in the T4 Program. Richard was the son of Freida Jenne and lived a short and painful life. He was born on March 10, 1941 in Germany. He was born with an intellectual disability. In late 1944, Richard’s mother was advised to send him Kaufbeuren-Irsee Mental Institution. She did not know what would happen there.
Richard was treated horribly in the facility, as were all disabled children there. Nazi ideology believed that people with disabilities did not deserve life- they believed them to be unworthy and “useless eaters”. They were treated as such.
Little Richard, who was described as a “feebleminded idiot” was only three years old when he was sent to the institution. During his time there, he was subjected to starvation to weaken his body. One can only imagine how hungry the poor little boy must have been, not understanding where his mother was or why he was in this horrible place.
In April of 1945, American forces captured the town. The Americans did not know of the atrocities that happened in the institution for at least five more weeks. The “nurses” of the hospital continued to operate.
On May 29, 1945, Richard Jenne was murdered by lethal injection in his hospital bed by Sister Wörle. She had previously killed 211 minors in the hospital. Richard was only four years old. He is often considered the last victim of the Holocaust and is the last known victim of the T4 program.
During a recent speech, Erica Kirk made an unusual wording choice while speaking about her husband.
Just prior to the remark, her iPad shut off due to a dead battery, leaving her without prepared remarks. She then continued speaking from memory rather than reading from a script.
Shortly after, she said: “Once my husband was assassinated…”
In standard English usage, “once” is typically used to indicate sequence or anticipation… something expected to occur before the next event happens.
Examples of common anticipation-based usage:
“Once you finish dinner, you can have dessert.”
“Once the meeting ends, we’ll talk.”
“Once the paperwork is approved, the process moves forward.”
“Once he arrives, we’ll begin.”
By contrast, unexpected or traumatic events are normally described using “when” or “after.”
This is why churches, temples, synagogues and any place of worship needs clear, comprehensive and effective abuse prevention policies-both for how it handles disclosures of abuse by its members or discovery of abuse by its leaders.
Much like schools, these organizations need to have accountability measures and its members must be the ones who demand transparency of those policies.
Otherwise abuse continues to be done in secrecy, abusers are protected and institutions are shielded from consequences for violating their duty of care.
Children deserve us having these difficult conversations so they can be protected.
I almost let a teenage girl freeze to death on Thanksgiving Eve because of a stupid sign I hung on my own wall.
NO LOITERING. NO SLEEPING. NO PETS.
I run a 24-hour laundromat in Chicago—where winter doesn’t show mercy, and if you show too much, your business turns into a free hostel. I’ve learned the hard way that if I let one person nap on a folding table, by sunrise I’ve got a whole encampment of them.
Rules keep the doors open.
Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
Last Wednesday, the wind was doing that sideways snow thing, the kind that slaps your face even when you’re indoors. I was in the back, grumbling about mopping floors instead of being home with my wife’s turkey, when the door chimed.
A girl walked in. Seventeen, maybe. Thin as a coat hanger. Hoodie soaked. Sneakers squishing with each step.
And beside her?
A monster.
At least, that’s what I thought.
A massive gray Pitbull mix. Scarred. Shivering. Built like he could bench-press a sedan. The type of dog people avoid by crossing an entire street.
“No dogs,” I barked, tapping the No Pets sign like a judge swinging a gavel.
She winced. “Please… just ten minutes. The shelter’s full. I just need my toes to stop hurting.”
The dog—Tank—pressed his whole body against her leg, as if trying to fuse himself into her for warmth.
“Fifteen minutes,” I muttered. “He makes one sound, I’m calling the cops.”
They retreated to the coldest corner. I retreated to the security monitor, looking for any excuse to kick them out.
Then I watched her pull out a handful of coins—pennies, nickels, a dime that looked like it had survived the Great Chicago Fire. She counted them over and over until she could afford a pack of those terrible orange peanut-butter crackers.
She sat on the floor, opened the pack…
and didn’t take a single bite.
She broke a cracker and held it out to Tank.
“Eat, buddy.”
Tank sniffed it. His ribs showed. He needed food desperately. But he pushed it back toward her.
She insisted. He refused.
And in that moment, on a grainy black-and-white screen, I watched a starving dog protect the only person he loved by refusing to let her go hungry.
My throat tightened.
Then things got worse.
Mike—the drunk regular who occasionally slept behind a dryer—stumbled over, reeking of whiskey.
“Got a dollar, sweetheart?” he slurred.
Tank stood up—not snarling, not attacking. Just planting himself like a shield between the girl and the man.
A living, breathing wall.
Mike reached toward her shoulder.
Tank growled—a low, seismic warning that said, Touch her and you’ll wish you hadn’t.
The girl wrapped her arms around Tank’s neck and begged, “Don’t hurt him, please! He’s just scared!”
That was the moment my rules stopped mattering.
I grabbed the baseball bat, marched over, and pointed it—not at the dog, but at Mike.
“Out. Now.”
He left so fast he forgot his bottle.
I locked the door. Flipped the sign to CLOSED. The girl looked up at me with terrified eyes, bracing for the moment I’d kick her out into the blizzard.
But I just walked to the back, grabbed the Tupperware my wife had packed—thick turkey slices, mashed potatoes, gravy—and set it in front of them.
“The dryer in this corner overheats,” I lied. “I need someone to sit here tonight and make sure it doesn’t catch fire. Job comes with dinner.”
She stared at the food like it was a dream she was afraid to touch.
“Sir?” she whispered, voice cracking.
“Eat,” I said. “Both of you.”
Tank waited—actually waited—until she swallowed her first bite before he took one for himself.
The toughest thing in that room wasn’t my bat. It was a half-frozen Pitbull who’d rather starve than let his girl go hungry.
That night changed me.
We spend so much time judging people by what they wear, where they sleep, or what they have in their pockets. We judge dogs by the size of their jaws and the scars on their skin.
But loyalty doesn’t live in appearances.
Compassion doesn’t come with a price tag.
And sometimes the best guardian angel you’ll ever meet arrives covered in frost, with a teenager on one side and a trembling Pitbull on the other.
If I’d followed my own rules, I would’ve shut the door on both.
Instead, I learned this:
Family isn’t always blood.
Protection doesn’t always look gentle.
And the biggest hearts often beat inside the bodies we’ve been trained to fear.
So next time someone walks into your life looking rough, tired, or “dangerous”…
maybe look twice.
You might be staring at the purest form of love you’ll ever see.
What these crooks and criminals posing as men and law enforcement have done against humanity is heinous, and unforgivable. The Most High God, Creator and Family, are delivering to them and everyone the deeds of their own hands. They have destroyed themselves.
A Nigerian tribal king, King Emere Godwin Bebe Okpabi, and communities like Ogale are suing Shell in the UK for oil spills, alleging a history of severe pollution that has destroyed livelihoods and the environment. The communities claim Shell’s operations have caused widespread environmental degradation, leading to a lack of clean water and damage to farmlands and rivers. Shell argues it is not responsible for most spills, which it attributes to third-party criminality like oil theft, but the UK High Court has allowed the case against Shell to proceed, acknowledging that Shell may be liable for pollution that has not been cleaned up.
The lawsuit
Plaintiffs: The Ogale and Bille communities, represented by King Emere Godwin Bebe Okpabi, filed the lawsuit in the UK, arguing that the Nigerian legal system was not a viable option for receiving justice.
Allegations: The communities claim Shell’s operations have caused decades of severe pollution, rendering their land, water, and livelihoods unusable.
Shell’s defense: Shell maintains that the vast majority of spills are caused by criminal activity, such as illegal oil refining and sabotage. It argues that it should not be held liable for the actions of third parties.
Legal and environmental context
UK court decision: A UK judge ruled that Shell can be sued in England for the pollution, finding that a new legal claim could arise each day the oil remains uncleaned, despite the “five-year limitation period” on legal claims.
Environmental impact: The pollution has led to widespread contamination, including an estimated 8cm layer of oil on drinking water in some areas, making it undrinkable. The pollution has also devastated fishing and farmlands, destroying habitats and causing severe economic hardship. Previous settlements: In a 2009 settlement related to a different case, Shell paid $15.5 million to resolve claims of human rights abuses against the Ogoni people, though it maintained the payment was a humanitarian gesture and not an admission of guilt.
Trial dates: A trial to address the remaining issues is scheduled to begin in March 2027.
Epstein has been mentioned quite a bit lately. The Most High God, Divine Masculine, Upper Echelon, Supreme Justice … they’re quite pissed about them doing “scientists experiments” on the Divine Feminine being funneled through these spaces. They were our healers. Caught in a trap … used as birthing people for “intelligent animals”.
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