AMERICAN REALITY CHECK: Excerpts from "TRANCE Formation of America"
When the true history of our time is finally
written, individuals like Cathy O'Brien and Mark
Phillips will be remembered as real American heroes.
Because of their astounding courage, undaunted
determination and focused desire for justice and for
the truth to be told, America, eventually, will never
be the same. Great things are in the winds. A mighty
revolution of world view, theology and repentance of
heart is approaching. A return to the Lawful roots of
the nation of Jacob is in the offing. Whether it be
20, 30 or 50 years from now, a test of fire will
temper the remnant and resurrect America as the
Phoenix. Christ Jesus will become the land's only
Potentate. The Kingdom WILL be made manifest.
In the meantime, books like "TRANCE Formation of
America" will go a long way in the awakening of the
sheep. This ground-breaking, hard-hitting and
spotlight searing book unveils the satanic network in
all its evil hideousness. The mere fact that O'Brien
and Phillips have never even been indicted for
slander, defamation of character or answered with
denials speaks volumes and is strong persuasion that
their incredible and nauseating story is indeed true.
It is HIGHLY recommended that, if the reader has a
strong enough constitution, a copy of this book, along
with their video, be procurred from
TRANCE-FORMATION.com, or by sending 29.95, including
postage, for their book to Trance-Formation, P.O. Box
950, Yoakum, Texas 77995, and carefully reviewed.
Research the facts, photos and documentation. Be
shocked. Be sickened. Then, tell others and spread the
The following passages are from the well referenced
and documented, 1995, book "TRANCE Formation of:
America- The True Story of a CIA Mind Control Slave":
by Cathy O'Brien with Mark Phillips, the twelfth:
printing. Visit TRANCE-FORMATION.com, soon. WARNING:
the following contains sexually explicit desriptions.:
A-HUNTING WE WILL GO
On December 4, 1986, I turned 29 years old. Usually
mind-controlled slaves were discarded, "thrown from
the Freedom train", at 30; but I argued with Houston
when he told me my government abusers only had one
year left to "use me up". I had had no conscious
awareness of the passing of time, and believed I was
still only 24. Regardless of what I believed, my
abusers did their best to "use me up" physically and
psychologically before even a month had passed.
I was in Washington, D.C. on a routine trip, which
included being prostituted to President Reagan. "Uncle
Ronnie's" cheeks were flushed from excitement and
cognac as he told me, "I always take two weeks off for
Christmas to go back to California." Reagan
interrupted himself to break into an old Hollywood
style song and dance, "California here I come..." The
White House, he claimed, had always been confining to
him, and he appeared genuinely excited about his
upcoming trip. "I look forward to this trip every year
because I get to see old friends. Oh, I still work
while I'm there- the President's work is never done-
but at least I'm there. It's about time you see where
I call home." Then, quoting from the Wizard of Oz, he
said, "'There's no place like home.' And you're about
to see why. Say it with me, 'There's no place like
home. There's no place like home'."
Blue-white light seemingly exploded in my brain,
like being hit with deadly low voltage AC electric
current. Reagan was "setting the stage" for an
attempted mind scrambling time slip, to be reactivated
at an upcoming meeting I would have with him in Bel
The motor home was packed to the walls, and the
walls were packed with cocaine as Houston (Alex
Houston), Kelly, and I departed on our long drive to
California. Houston had planned several "tourist
stops" along the way that proved as nightmarish as the
California ordeal itself.
In Las Vegas, Nevada, Houston kept Kelly and me busy
prostituting us to everyone he knew that was "in the
know" and in attendance at the Country Music
Association's annual convention. Weary of being sent
from room to room, I was back in the lobby literally
trying to catch my breath when I saw Michael Dante. He
was dressed in an expensive, light grey silk suit and
dark glasses, looking more like a Fed than a mobster,
leaning on a post, waiting for me. "Our love" he
professed over the phone for mind conditioning
purposes was certainly not apparent now. "You're
late", he growled as looked at his watch. He ordered
me into the Ladies' Room to activate programming by
having me "lose myself" in the infinity mirrors that
lined the walls. With my mind set like he wanted, he
then used and directed me in commercial pornography.
Later, he did the same with Kelly.
At the Grand Canyon, Houston traumatized Kelly and
me in preparation for upcoming events in California.
While hiking down the canyon, Houston attempted to
anchor hypnotically all of the trip's events behind
the death and insanity programming to which he was
subjecting us. When we stopped for a late afternoon
lunch in the Canyon, Kelly collapsed in a state of
shock, unable to eat. Houston was pleased because he
"got to eat it all himself". I was, as usual,
undergoing the food and water deprivation. I was so
thirsty, I could not think to eat. Kelly's condition
magnified my own terrified state, and I did all I
could to keep Houston from supposedly pushing her over
the edge. I carried her for hours all the way out of
the canyon, without pausing to rest. In my own mind I
wanted to believe I was actually able to protect her.
The fact was, Houston was wearing me down physically
to ensure that I could not protect her at our next
destination: Lake/Mount Shasta, California.
George Bush was highly active in both the Lampe,
Missouri and Shasta, California retreat compounds.
Just like Lampe, Shasta's cover was country music.
According to everyone I knew, singer and songwriter
Merle Haggard supposedly ran the show at Lake Shasta,
diverting any and all attention from the nearby Mount
Shasta compound. Shasta was the largest, covert
mind-control slave camp of which I am aware. Hidden in
the wooded hills, military fencing corrals an enormous
fleet of unmarked, black helicopters and more
mind-controlled, military robots than I saw in all of
Haiti. This covert military operation served its own
agenda, not America's. I was told and overheard that
it was a base for the future Multi-Jurisdictional
Police Force; for enforcing order and law in the New
World Order. In the center of the high security
compound, was another well-guarded military-fenced
area that was regarded as a "Camp David" of sorts for
those running our country. George Bush and Dick Cheney
shared an office there, and claimed the outer
perimeter woods as their own hunting grounds where
they played "A Most Dangerous Game". Predicated on
conversations I overheard between the two, it was this
world police military background that earned Dick
Cheney his cabinet appointment as Secretary of Defense
(1) with the Bush Administration. (1)[ Dick Cheney has
no official U.S. military history to justify his
position as our nation's former Defense Secretary
under President George Bush. ]
Houston stayed at Haggard's Lake Shasta resort while
Kelly and I were helicoptered to Mount Shasta for our
scheduled meeting with Bush and Cheney. The helicopter
pilot directed our attention to the military fencing
surrounding the outer perimeter of the compound.
Rarely did pilots ever speak to either of us, but this
one smiled wickedly as he told us we would need to
know the outer limits for A Most Dangerous Game.
As soon as we arrived at Bush and Cheney's inner
sanctum, I noticed George Bush, Jr. was with them. It
was my experience that Jr. stood by his father and
covered his backside whenever Bush would become
incapacitated from drugs or required criminal backup.
It appeared that Jr. was there to serve both purposes
while his father and Cheney enjoyed their
Hyper from drugs, Cheney and Bush were eager to hunt
their human prey in "A Most Dangerous Game". They
greeted me with the rules of the game, ordered me to
strip naked despite the cold December winds, and told
me in Oz cryptic to "beware of the lions and tigers
and bears". Kelly's life became the stakes, as usual,
which resurrected my natural and exaggerated
programmed maternal instincts. Tears silently ran down
my cheeks as Bush told me, "If we catch you, Kelly's
mine. So run, run as fast as you can. I'll get you and
your little girl, too, because I can, I can, I can.
And I will."
Cheney, daring me to respond, asked, "Any
I said, "There's no place to run because there's a
fence- the kind I can't get over. I saw it."
Rather than physically assault me, Cheney laughed at
my sense of "no where to run, no where to hide" and
explained that a bear had torn a hole in the fence
somewhere, and all I had to do is find it. He lowered
his rifle to my head and said, "Let the games begin.
Wearing only my tennis shoes, I ran through the
trees as fast and as far as I could, which wasn't very
far at all. Bush was using his bird dog to track me,
the same one that had recently been used with me in
bestiality filming as a "Byrd-dog" joke on my owner,
Robert C. Byrd. When caught, Cheney held his gun to my
head again as he stood over me, looking warm in his
sheepskin coat. Bush ordered me to take the dog
sexually while they watched, then he and Cheney
ushered me back to their cabin.
I pulled on my clothes and sat in the office part of
the cabin awaiting instructions. I had no idea where
Kelly was, nor do I in retrospect. Bush and Cheney
were still in their hunting clothes when the
programming session began. Bush said, "You and I are
about to embark on A Most Dangerous Game of diplomatic
relations. This is my game. You will follow my rules.
I will have the distinct advantage of hunting you with
my Eye in the Sky (satellite). I'll watch every move
you make. As long as you play the game by my rules and
make no mistakes, you live. One mistake and I'll get
you, my pretty, and your little girl, too. You die,
and Kelly will have to play with me. I prefer it that
way. Then it will be her Most Dangerous Game. The
cards are stacked in my favor because, well, it is my
game! Are you game?"
There was no choice. I responded as conditioned,
"Yes, Sir! I'm game." The parallels to The Most
Dangerous Game that had just occured in the woods were
deliberate and intended to make retrieval of memory
"impossible" due to cryrtoamnesia scrambling.
"Good. Then let the games begin. Listen carefully to
your instructions. You have no room for error." Cheney
flipped his "game timer"- an hourglass. Bush
continued, "This game is called the King and Eye, and
here's the deal. You will be establishing stronger
diplomatic relations according to order between
Mexico, the U.S., and the Middle East. Your role will
require a change of face at each new place. I'll chart
your course, define your role, and pull your strings.
You'll speak my words when I pull your strings. There
is no room for error."
Cheney was half lying across the plain, military
style desk in an apparent drug stupor as Bush talked.
Still wearing his hunting coat and hat, Cheney aimed
his gun at me from the desk and threatened, "Or
a-hunting we will go." Bush finished Cheney's threat
by singing, "We'll catch a fox and put her in a box
and lower her in a hole."
Bush looked at Cheney and burst out laughing. The
sight of him dressed in his hunting clothes with a
huge bore, double-barreled shotgun to his shoulder
inspired Bush to tell him he "looked like Elmer Fudd".
Cheney, imitating the cartoon character, said,
"Where is that waskily wabbit?"
Operation The King and Eye would involve Reagan's #1
envoy Philip Habib (who cryptically played the Alice
In Wonderland role of the White Rabbit with slaves
such as myself)and Saudi Arabian King Fahd. So when
Bush referred to the two as "Elmer Fahd and the
Waskily Wabbit", he and Cheney laughed until they
cried. Since both were already high from drugs anyway,
they had a great deal of difficulty maintaining their
composure long enough to complete my programming.
It was late evening when Bush and Cheney finished
programming me with numerous messages pertaining to
the immediate opening of the Juarez, Mexican border to
free (drug and slave) trade. They took me downstairs
to the living quarters of the western cedar and
redwood structure where Kelly soon joined us. George
Bush, Jr. deposited my obviously traumatized and
withdrawn child at the door. Referring to The Most
Dangerous Game she told me in a quiet, defeated and
sad voice, "I was caught same as you."
In retrospect, I do not know if she was actually
hunted (I can only hope she was not). Regardless, this
reinforced the fact that I had been caught and
therefore was "responsible" (when in fact I was not)
for everything that happened to Kelly from that point
The decor of the residence area reflected Cheney's
primitive, rustic, western preference. Like his "ultra
secret" Pentagon Bunkhouse, use of leather was in
abundance. The main room was small, but appeared
larger due to an infinity mirror on one wall. The room
was decorated in mirror fashion with one side looking
like the other. Centered between two facing black
leather sofas was a coffee table littered with drugs
and paraphernalia. Bush and Cheney were sitting in
matching black leather recliners angled towards the
large stone fireplace where a fire was blazing,
illuminating and heating the room.
Heroin, Bush's drug of choice, was in abundance and
Cheney joined him in using it. The smorgasbord of
drugs laid out supposedly included opium, cocaine and
Wonderland Wafers (MDMHA-XTC aka ecstasy), which
indicated to me they intended to celebrate their
vacation with abandon. I had seen Cheney stumbling
drunk before, but this was the only time I saw him use
heroin and give it to me. Kelly, too, was subjected to
Bush attempted to sell Cheney on the idea of
pedophilia through graphic descriptions of having sex
with Kelly. Both were already sexually aroused from
drugs and anticipation. Cheney demonstrated to Bush
why he did not have sex with kids by exposing himself
to Kelly and saying, "Come here." Upon seeing Cheney's
unusually large penis, Kelly reeled back in horror and
cried, "No!" which made them both laugh. Bush asked
Cheney for his liquid cocaine atomizer as he got up to
take Kelly to the bedroom. When Cheney remarked how
benevolent it was of Bush to numb her with it before
sex, Bush replied, "The hell it is. It's for me." He
described his excited state in typical vulgar terms
and explained that he wanted to spray cocaine on his
penis to last longer.
Cheney said, "I thought it was for the kid."
Bush explained, "Half the fun is having them
squirm." He took Kelly's hand and led her off to the
Cheney told me that since I was "responsible" for
Bush's assault on my daughter by being caught in A
Most Dangerous Game, I would "burn" (in hell). He
burned my inner thigh with the fireplace poker, and
threatened to throw Kelly in the fire. He hypnotically
enhanced his description of her burning to traumatize
me deeply. As he sexually brutalized me, I heard
Kelly's whimpers coming from the bedroom. As her cries
grew louder, Cheney turned on classical music to drown
out her cries for help.
At 4:00 am, as ordered, Bush Jr. (and his helicopter
pilot) came to retrieve Kelly and me. We were flown
(by helicopter) back to the Lake Shasta area where
Houston and the motor home awaited us. Bush's assault
of Kelly proved to be a mind shattering experience for
me, and physically devastating to Kelly. She was in
dire need of medical attention and was unable even to
move. Houston threatened to stop the motor home in the
Yosemite area and throw me from a steep cliff if I
didn't settle down. His threats and commands could not
control my hysteria, as much of his control
programming had inadvertently shattered. Fearful he
would lose both his "money-makers", Houston permitted
me to telephone Kelly's doctor and begin administering
medicines. As for me, he arranged for assistance in
picking up the pieces in order that I complete my
primary purpose in traveling to California, i.e., meet
with Mexican President Miguel de la Madrid and
finalize plans to open the Juarez border.
NEW WORLD ORDERS
There was "no time to lose" in bringing me
around to a functioning level. I knew I had work to
do. Although I was to be "used up" by my 30th
birthday, I do not believe it was Bush and Cheney's
intention to expedite the process so quickly.
Apparently it was their incompetence due to
over-indulgence of drugs and subsequent abuse of Kelly
in my presence that destroyed parts of my
maternal-based programming. Regardless of their
"excuse", Houston drove us to San Francisco,
California where Temple of Set (Satan) founder U.S.
Army Lt. Col. Aquino made some emergency "repairs".
I was not taken to a hospital or a mental
institution, but to a brain/mind research and
development lab on the U.S. Army Reservation at
Presidio. There are many facilities such as this one
across the country at various CIA, military, and NASA
compounds where hyper-advanced government knowledge is
put to the test, developed and modified. Those I met
who had expertly learned the scientific mechanics of
the brain in conjunction with the ins and outs of the
mind used their gained secret knowledge to manipulate
and/or control others. The only thing Mark Phillips,
Byrd, and Aquino had in common was the belief that
"secret knowledge equals power." (1) (1)[ Mark
Phillips explained to me that, by revealing their
"secrets" their power would diminish. "Good always
prevails through positive application, whereas the bad
guys are hindered and slowed in their criminal
endeavors through having to cover-up their negative
actions with lies to support lies. This inevitably
allows the truth to emerge," Mark said. ] Byrd
explained to me that New World Order "powers were
strengthened" by allowing the mental health community
only partial and/or deliberate misinformation through
their organization lobby, The American Psychiatric
Association (APA), concerning treatment modalities for
severe dissociative disorders being created through
mind control! Perpetrators believed that withholding
knowledge and the proliferation of deliberate
misinformation allowed them control over their
secrets, and subsequently over humanity. They may be
correct if no one can or will react to the information
presented in this book.
Intended or not, I overheard a conversation
pertaining to death and the mind between Aquino and a
lab assistant as I lay on a cold, metal table in a
deep hypnotic state. Aquino was saying that I had come
close to death numerous times which "increased my
ability to enter other (mind) dimensions en route to
death." I had listened to Aquino talk at length about
such concepts before, as though he were trying to
convince himself of some interdimensional time travel
theory. "Whether in principle or in theory, the
results are the same," he claimed. "The concept of
time is abstract in itself." Hypnotic talk of
past-present-future set my mind in a spin that, when
combined with Alice In Wonderland/NASA mirror world
concepts, created an illusion of timeless dimensions.
I now know that the only "dimensions" I experienced
were elaborate memory compartmentalizations of real,
earthly events by real, earthly criminals, and
certainly not by aliens, Satan or demons.
After moving me from the table to an elaborate box,
Aquino then shifted my mind to another area of my
brain, claiming to have taken me into another
dimension by way of "death's door". This was
accomplished while I was subjected to sensory
deprivation combined with hypnotic and harmonic
reprogramming. The seemingly coffin-like structure was
transformed in my mind to a crematorium, where I
endured the sense of increasing heat while "I slowly
burned" through hypnotic suggestion. Aquino then
"pulled me through death's door" and into another
dimension "void of time". Parts of my programming were
"recreated for the RECREATION of world leaders", i.e.,
U.S. President Reagan, Mexican President de la Madrid,
and Saudi Arabian King Fahd.
In my next recollection of awareness, Houston,
Kelly, and I were in Hollywood, where Houston claimed
the motor home "broke down"- an over used attempted
memory scramble. He sent me down the street to
telephone Michael Dante, who lived nearby in Beverly
Hills. Dante was expecting Kelly and me to join him in
his Beverly Hills mansion for several days as had been
previously arranged by our handler, Alex Houston.
Kelly and I waited at the phone booth as instructed
until Dante arrived to pick us up in his midnight blue
Ferrari. As soon as I sat down, Dante said, "I got
something for you, Baby. Give me your arm." Heroin was
a common "vice" he shared with Bush, and he shot me up
with the drug right in front of Kelly.
Later that evening at his house, Dante told me that
he refused to "handle damaged goods", and that he
would not be my next handler as previously planned.
Not only was I "not fit to live with" him, but I was
not "fit to live" at all. I am not certain what he
meant to accomplish by these threats, but I know in
retrospect that this was not his decision to make.
Besides, I never perceived existence with him and his
professed "love" as a "future" anyway. Instead, he
said he would go along with the original plan long
enough to "aquire Kelly".
The next day, hours before I was to meet with de la
Madrid, L.A. Dodgers baseball team manager Tommy
LaSorda, George Bush, Jr., and star pitcher of Jr.'s
Texas Rangers, Nolan Ryan (who was also a banker) were
at Dante's house working out details of money
laundering and bank transactions for the imminent
opening of the Juarez border cocaine, heroin, and
white slavery route. The common bond of covert
criminal activity overrode any professional baseball
conflicts between them. All three were in town to be
in attendance at various gatherings and parties of
Reagan's, who would be arriving in a matter of days.
And all three appeared to have an understanding of my
function as Reagan's "Presidential Model" mind-control
Dante was gathering the necessary clothes and props
for the evening rendezvous with de la Madrid. LaSorda,
Nolan Ryan, and Jr. were standing in the entrance way
of Dante's house attempting to activate my "Baseball
Mind Computer" programmed personality fragment that
had inadvertently been shattered by Bush and Cheney's
traumas at Shasta. Dante told them, "She knows more
about baseball than you and Tommy (LaSorda) put
together. Go ahead and ask her something. Anything."
Much to LaSorda's amusement, Nolan Ryan asked, "How
many times does Fernando Valenzuela (Dodger pitcher)
touch his hat if he's going to throw a screwy (screw
ball)? I could not respond, although I had once known
more statistical data than would ever be in print.
Jr. hollered, "Hey, Dante. What's with your baseball
computer here, huh? Are we supposed to say a magic
"I don't know", Dante responded. "Could be the
drugs. Her sex is working fine, though. Give it a
Jr. declined, saying, "No thanks. The Baseball
Computer sucks enough. Listen, we'll see you later."
Jr. had never shown any interest in me sexually. Like
his father, he had only shown sexual interest in
Kelly, who had been away with him most of the day. As
he turned to leave, he stroked me under the chin and
cryptically said, "Have a Ball tonight".
LaSorda, who had not been on his Ultra Slim
Fast-sponsored diet yet, said, "Speaking of balls,
mine could use a little attention here." He unzipped
Dante told me, "We gotta get dressed. Three
minutes." Three minutes was a trigger for me to
perform a specific, oral sex act. I knelt on the floor
and pushed up LaSorda's enormous belly, resting it on
my head as I groped for his penis as ordered. Dante's
two Great Danes came in as Jr. and Nolan Ryan left. I
had been forced to participate in a bestiality film
with these sex-trained dogs earlier that day, and I
had to fight them off as I sexually gratified LaSorda
before getting ready for "the Ball".
End of "TRANCE" quotes.
Go to trance-formation.com, learn what you can and
then fire this info far and wide. Help make the cracks
in their news media dam leak more and more. The
darkness cannot withstand The Light. Christian Victory
is inevitable, help speed it along. Satan's time is
nearing its end. YHVH's Day is nearing its Dawn. Stand
YOUR DONATION = OUR SURVIVAL!
Please contribute today - buy our books - and spread the word to all your friends!
* * * Back to the Home Page of John "Birdman" Bryant, the World's Most Controversial Author * * *