Saturday, September 14, 2013

Wild Elephants Gather Inexplicably, Mourn Death of Elephant Whisperer". For Two Days the Herds Loitered at Anthonys Rural Compound..




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Wild Elephants Gather Inexplicably, Mourn Death of Elephant Whisperer". For Two Days the Herds Loitered at Anthonys Rural Compound..




Author and legendary conservationist Lawrence Anthony died March 2.

His family spoke of a solemn procession of Elephants that defies human explanation.





"RECLAIM OUR ONENESS"






For 12 hours, two herds of wild South African elephants slowly made their way through the Zululand bush until they reached the house of late author Lawrence Anthony, the conservationist who saved their lives.The formerly violent, rogue elephants, destined to be shot a few years ago as pests, were rescued and rehabilitated by Anthony, who had grown up in the bush and was known as the “Elephant Whisperer.”



For two days the herds loitered at Anthony’s rural compound on the vast Thula Thula game reserve in the South African KwaZulu – to say good-bye to the man they loved. But how did they know he had died? Known for his unique ability to calm traumatized elephants, Anthony had become a legend. He is the author of three books, Babylon Ark, detailing his efforts to rescue the animals at Baghdad Zoo during the Iraqi war, the forthcoming The Last Rhinos, and his bestselling The Elephant Whisperer.



There are two elephant herds at Thula Thula. According to his son Dylan, both arrived at the Anthony family compound shortly after Anthony’s death.“They had not visited the house for a year and a half and it must have taken them about 12 hours to make the journey,” Dylan is quoted in various local news accounts. “The first herd arrived on Sunday and the second herd, a day later. They all hung around for about two days before making their way back into the bush.”Elephants have long been known to mourn their dead. In India, baby elephants often are raised with a boy who will be their lifelong “mahout.” The pair develop legendary bonds – and it is not uncommon for one to waste away without a will to live after the death of the other.





A line of elephants approaching the Anthony house, but these are wild elephants in the 21st century, not some Rudyard Kipling novel.The first herd to arrive at Thula Thula several years ago were violent. They hated humans. Anthony found himself fighting a desperate battle for their survival and their trust, which he detailed in The Elephant Whisperer:“It was 4:45 a.m. and I was standing in front of Nana, an enraged wild elephant, pleading with her in desperation. Both our lives depended on it. The only thing separating us was an 8,000-volt electric fence that she was preparing to flatten and make her escape.“Nana, the matriarch of her herd, tensed her enormous frame and flared her ears.“’Don’t do it, Nana,’ I said, as calmly as I could. She stood there, motionless but tense. The rest of the herd froze.“’This is your home now,’ I continued. ‘Please don’t do it, girl.’I felt her eyes boring into me.





Anthony, Nana and calf “’They’ll kill you all if you break out. This is your home now. You have no need to run any more.’“Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation struck me,” Anthony writes. “Here I was in pitch darkness, talking to a wild female elephant with a baby, the most dangerous possible combination, as if we were having a friendly chat. But I meant every word. ‘You will all die if you go. Stay here. I will be here with you and it’s a good place.’“She took another step forward. I could see her tense up again, preparing to snap the electric wire and be out, the rest of the herd smashing after her in a flash.“I was in their path, and would only have seconds to scramble out of their way and climb the nearest tree. I wondered if I would be fast enough to avoid being trampled. Possibly not.“Then something happened between Nana and me, some tiny spark of recognition, flaring for the briefest of moments. Then it was gone. Nana turned and melted into the bush. The rest of the herd followed. I couldn’t explain what had happened between us, but it gave me the

first glimmer of hope since the elephants had first thundered into my life.”



Elephants gathering at the Anthony home It had all started several weeks earlier with a phone call from an elephant welfare organization. Would Anthony be interested in adopting a problem herd of wild elephants? They lived on a game reserve 600 miles away and were “troublesome,” recalled Anthony.“They had a tendency to break out of reserves and the owners wanted to get rid of them fast. If we didn’t take them, they would be shot.“The woman explained, ‘The matriarch is an amazing escape artist and has worked out how to break through electric fences. She just twists the wire around her tusks until it snaps, or takes the pain and smashes through.’“’Why me?’ I asked.“’I’ve heard you have a way with animals. You’re right for them. Or maybe they’re right for you.’”What followed was heart-breaking. One of the females and her baby were shot and killed in the round-up, trying to evade capture.





The French version of “The Elephant Whisperer”“When they arrived, they were thumping the inside of the trailer like a gigantic drum. We sedated them with a pole-sized syringe, and once they had calmed down, the door slid open and the matriarch emerged, followed by her baby bull, three females and an 11-year-old bull.”Last off was the 15-year-old son of the dead mother. “He stared at us,” writes Anthony, “flared his ears and with a trumpet of rage, charged, pulling up just short of the fence in front of us.“His mother and baby sister had been shot before his eyes, and here he was, just a teenager, defending his herd. David, my head ranger, named him Mnumzane, which in Zulu means ‘Sir.’ We christened the matriarch Nana, and the second female-in-command, the most feisty, Frankie, after my wife.“We had erected a giant enclosure within the reserve to keep them safe until they became calm enough to move out into the reserve proper.“Nana gathered her clan, loped up to the fence and stretched out her trunk, touching the electric wires. The 8,000-volt charge sent a jolt shuddering through her bulk. She backed off. Then, with her family in tow, she strode the entire perimeter of the enclosure, pointing her trunk at the wire to check for vibrations from the electric current.



“As I went to bed that night, I noticed the elephants lining up along the fence, facing out towards their former home. It looked ominous. I was woken several hours later by one of the reserve’s rangers, shouting, ‘The elephants have gone! They’ve broken out!’ The two adult elephants had worked as a team to fell a tree, smashing it onto the electric fence and then charging out of the enclosure.

“I scrambled together a search party and we raced to the border of the game reserve, but we were too late. The fence was down and the animals had broken out.

“They had somehow found the generator that powered the electric fence around the reserve. After trampling it like a tin can, they had pulled the concrete-embedded fence posts out of the ground like matchsticks, and headed north.”

The reserve staff chased them – but had competition.

“We met a group of locals carrying large caliber rifles, who claimed the elephants were ‘fair game’ now. On our radios we heard the wildlife authorities were issuing elephant rifles to staff. It was now a simple race against time.”

Anthony managed to get the herd back onto Thula Thula property, but problems had just begun:



“Their bid for freedom had, if anything, increased their resentment at being kept in captivity. Nana watched my every move, hostility seeping from every pore, her family behind her. There was no doubt that sooner or later they were going to make another break for freedom.

“Then, in a flash, came the answer. I would live with the herd. To save their lives, I would stay with them, feed them, talk to them. But, most importantly, be with them day and night. We all had to get to know each other.”

It worked, as the book describes in detail, notes the London Daily Mail newspaper.

Anthony was later offered another troubled elephant – one that was all alone because the rest of her herd had been shot or sold, and which feared humans. He had to start the process all over again.

And as his reputation spread, more “troublesome” elephants were brought to Thula Thula.





So, how after Anthony’s death, did the reserve’s elephants — grazing miles away in distant parts of the park — know?

“A good man died suddenly,” says Rabbi Leila Gal Berner, Ph.D., “and from miles and miles away, two herds of elephants, sensing that they had lost a beloved human friend, moved in a solemn, almost ‘funereal’ procession to make a call on the bereaved family at the deceased man’s home.”



“If there ever were a time, when we can truly sense the wondrous ‘interconnectedness of all beings,’ it is when we reflect on the elephants of Thula Thula. A man’s heart’s stops, and hundreds of elephants’ hearts are grieving. This man’s oh-so-abundantly loving heart offered healing to these elephants, and now, they came to pay loving homage to their friend.”



His sons say that their father was a remarkable man who lived his life to the fullest and never looked back on any choices he made.



He leaves behind his wife Francoise, his two sons, Dylan and Jason, and two grandsons, Ethan and Brogan.



Lawrence will be missed by all. 











Priests in White Coats Kill a Baby of the State! -by Jon Rappoport




Priests in white coats kill a baby of the State



-a short story-



 



by Jon Rappoport



September 14, 2013



www.nomorefakenews.com



 



I'm writing this on June 24, 2036.



 



Right now I have the dubious status of being the most wanted man in America. Number one on the FBI's list.



 



Let them try to find me. I'm buried deep.



 



You all know the sensational story of Baby Joe and the Serenity Hospital in Tenafly, New Jersey. That is, you know what the press is reporting non-stop.



 



I'm here to correct the story. I'm here to talk to all the sleeping citizens in their homes and the bureaucrats and the police and the doctors and the lunatics in Congress and the parents who are taking orders from the State and the reporters who are selling themselves out every day of their lives and following the party line and the teachers who are trying to sound like doctors and the killers at the FDA and the DHS robots...



 



Here is what really happened at the hospital.



 



On June 1, at three in afternoon, after the mother of Joe had been in labor for an hour or so, the doctor gave her a shot and let her float. Then he delivered Joe, who started crying. A nurse calmed him down. They put Joe on his mother's belly and she reached for him and took him in her arms.



 



A new doctor walked into the room and held up a syringe and said he was going to give Joe a shot. The Hepatitis B vaccine.



 



There was no argument, contrary to what the Times wrote. The mother said, "I only have sex with my husband, and I'm not an IV drug user." Those were her words.



 



She said this because the Hepatitis B vaccine is supposed to prevent Hepatitis, which comes through sexual transmission and IV drug use.



 



The doctor said, "It's mandatory. Your baby has to have the vaccine. And I can already see he has a problem. His head is lolling a little. His eyes are unfocused."



 



This was a lie. The baby's eyes were closed. His head wasn't lolling, it was cradled in his mother's arms.



 



The mother did not then sit up in bed. She didn't threaten a lawsuit. She didn't argue. She just said, "No vaccine." Again, the Times was wrong.



 



The doctor said, "I can't release the baby from the hospital until he has the shot. If you won't give your permission, I'll have to notify Child Services. They'll send someone over. You don't want that."



 



He stepped over to the mother and bent down and looked at the baby. He said to the mother, "You and the baby are in our care. We have to do what's best for both of you."



 



She said, "Joe is mine." She didn't tell the doctor not to touch Joe. The Times misreported that, too.



 



The doctor said, "You're covered under national insurance. The rules say we decide what's best for the baby. If you refuse treatment, you can be deleted from the program. You'll be uninsured."



 



Once more, the mother said, "No vaccine."



 



The doctor said, "I'll have to call Child Services, and they'll bring the police with them."



 



Now, the mother sat up in bed. She tried to shake off the effects of the pain killer. She said, "The government doesn't own my baby."



 



The doctor said, "No, but we control its medical treatment. You have to go along with this. And if you refuse, then the State does take custody of the baby. Then the State decides everything that happens to the baby."



 



The mother said, "They can't own my boy."



 



A nurse standing next to the doctor said, "They can. They will. And a judge will back that up."



 



I was standing in the room. That's how I know everything that was being said.



 



And I acted on it.



 



I said to the doctor, "Back away."



 



He looked at me. He said to his nurse, "Call security."



 



She took out her cell and pressed a button.



 



The doctor said to me, "You realize this baby has to come to the hospital every three months for the next six years, for checkups? I'll be here. If I say he's depressed, I'll put him on an anti-psychotic, or any drug I choose. If I say he has ADHD, I'll give him some kind of amphetamine. I'm the one who decides."



 



I walked over to the doctor and grabbed him by the throat.



 



I didn't punch him. I didn't try to strangle him. I just put him under control for the moment. I said, "Don't move."



 



He didn't move.



 



Then I kneed him hard in the groin. He yelled and I let go of his throat. He doubled over and fell on the floor.



 



There was a second nurse in the room. She laughed and said, "Damn!"



 



So this was the situation. The mother was still holding Joe. She was looking at me. Her expression, understandably, was one of shock. The baby was all right. He wasn't crying. He was lying with his head on his mother's chest.



 



The second doctor, who had delivered Joe, backed up against the wall. He was afraid. The nurse who'd signaled for security bent down to help the doctor who was on the floor. The nurse who laughed stood near the bed and just smiled.



 



The nurse who was bending down helping the doctor on the floor looked up at me and said, "You're going to the psych ward."



 



"No I'm not," I said.



 



"You're a terrorist," she said.



 



I didn't bother to reply to that.



 



The nurse who was smiling took a step toward me. She said, "By the time this baby is four years old, he's going to have sixty shots. The vaccines have poison in them. Aluminum, mercury, formaldehyde, foreign genes. I'm not going to do this anymore."



 



She didn't say, as the Times reported, that she was going to help me get out of the hospital. She didn't say, "I'm a rebel." I know she's in the hospital psyche ward, as I write this. I'm sure they've drugged her.



 



Then, before I realized what was happening, the nurse who was helping the doctor on the floor, picked up the syringe, walked over to Joe and injected him with the vaccine. It happened fast. The baby screamed.



 



I walked out of the room. I made it to the elevator before security arrived. I got off in the lobby and was in the street when I heard alarm bells ringing.



 



I caught a taxi and rode a few miles north in the city. Then I took a subway east and...that's all you need to know about my escape route.



 



The press has reported that Joe died because I attacked him. The mother was taken into "protective custody," so we won't be hearing from her.



 



I'm now wanted for murder. The press is stating I'm an investigator for a "militia-style" anti-vaccine group called Stop Injection.



 



DHS has labeled me a domestic terrorist. If I'm caught, I could spend the rest of my life in prison. The vice-president of the United States has said I should be shot if I resist arrest.



 



This tells you how hard the government is protecting the pharmaceutical industry. Now that vaccines are mandated for every child by federal law, we're a nation under the gun and the needle.



 



The government will do whatever it takes to inject poison into children. They don't care about the truth. They're covering up the actual rates of injury and death from vaccinations. They're labeling these injuries with various disease names.



 



They're even using tax dollars to fund research into finding the germs that "cause" these diseases, when they know it's the vaccines.



 



The sun may be shining where you are, and it may be a beautiful day, but we're all living in a concentration camp, where doctors inject poison into every child.



 



If you believe what I'm saying is true, the government and its media allies will call you a primitive savage or a religious nut. That's how they keep the population under control.



 



There is no way out of this except by active resistance.



 



I have files with me. Every week or so, I'll be releasing portions of them. Evidence that the State has been lying to you about vaccines. Evidence that the human damage and destruction is much, much greater than you imagine.



 



The government has banned many independent reports and books about vaccines and taken them out of circulation.



 



I see there are rumors about whether I'm still in the country or have fled to another nation and secretly applied for political asylum. Let me set the record straight. In this world, as it exists now, no nation would grant me protection.



 



I could steal secrets about US war plans or about surveillance of private citizens or rigged elections, and I'd be able to live in some distant place and avoid extradition. But when it comes to titanic medical crimes, there is no safe haven.



 



You should visit a kindergarten or elementary school at your earliest convenience. Notice the burgeoning enrollments in special ed units. Many of these children have suffered vaccine damage, as well as the toxic effects of psychiatric drugs and "ordinary" medicines.



 



Even in conventional normal classes, schools have vastly simplified lesson-plans, because the children can't handle the usual material. They, too, many of them, are dealing with neurological damage.



 



The state-sanctioned daily "periods of silence" for meditation are now longer. This is an attempt to avoid the burden of trying to teach physically compromised children how to read, write, and do arithmetic. The "social interaction studies" are gaining as well. Sitting, talking, sharing---this postpones the moment when the teacher actually has to embark on substantive instruction.



 



Everything possible is being done to prevent an individual child from having to stand on his own merit---and reveal his educational deficiencies.



 



Last year's outbreak of pertussis among thousands of children in Indiana? The State suppressed a report revealing upwards of 80% of those children had been vaccinated against pertussis---the real cause of the outbreak was the vaccine.



 



A hundred thousand people in Southern India suddenly developed paralysis last summer, as health workers were injected 14 million residents with the Gates-Buffet polio vaccine. This, too, was shut out of the press.



 



There is much, much more.



 



I only ask that you examine the information I'll be releasing shortly. Then you can make up your own minds.



 



My files are divided into four sections:



 



unpublished drug-company studies that document maiming and death in an extraordinary number of children who were given vaccines in clinical trials;



 



company and FDA data analyzing intended and unintended toxic ingredients in several dozen vaccines;



 



unpublished government statistics on outbreaks and epidemics caused by vaccines;



 



drug-company memos documenting over 50 refusals to carry out studies comparing the health of vaccinated and unvaccinated children.



 



The holocaust is here. It has been here for some time.



 



Now, in June of 2036, the President has just announced he is calling on DHS to make sure mandatory vaccination is enforced to the fullest. This means you'll be seeing agents in your cities and towns. In your schools.



 



In addition to that, a combined CDC/World Health Organization "crisis group" is moving into 30 major cities to monitor vaccination sites and guarantee they are adequately staffed.



 



There remain three questions. How did Joe die in the hospital? How did I obtain all these secret files? Who am I?



 



I came by the files through a government whistleblower you've never heard of. He was researching this subject for a book on his own. He gave up and passed his work to me. I took it because I wanted to learn the truth and the facts.



 



I have some medical training. I have a license as a physician's assistant. I obtained a job at Serenity Hospital so I could investigate reports of extreme vaccine damage there. I belong to no group.



 



The Times articles were correct on one point. Joe's body was cremated within two hours of his death. There can only be one reason for that. Hospital officials wanted to avoid a coroner's investigation that would show the Hepatitis B vaccine killed him.



 



He was a healthy baby. I was in the room. I saw that.



 



Who are the real terrorists here?



 



As a child, I incurred damage as a result of vaccines and medical drugs. You probably did, too, because all Americans are forcibly enrolled in the national health insurance plan at birth.



 



This is a system that extends from cradle to grave. That's the whole point. Imagine a long, long line of millions and millions of people trudging through life, receiving 40 or 50 diagnoses of diseases and disorders as they go. With each drug prescription, they develop new symptoms, and these symptoms are then called diseases, requiring more toxic treatments.



 



It's controlled life in half-light, and it moves inexorably toward the cemetery.



 



Is a population like this even going to be able to think about the political condition in which they find themselves?



 



There was a turning point in the first decade of the 21st century. The Congress, under tremendous pressure, without considering that they were supposed to represent the people, passed into law the skeleton of the present government health insurance plan.



 



It was hailed as a humanitarian victory.



 



But people in power knew what it really was. And they didn't care.



 



People above them in the food chain not only knew what it was, they insisted on it. They intended to use this heinous system as an instrument of control.



 



And now, in 2036, here we are.



 



Essentially, the country is on lockdown. We live in a medical police state.



 



It's called good science. It's called greatest good for the greatest number. It's called enlightened democracy.



 



Perhaps you read about the recent death of the oldest serving US Senator, Nancy Reid. One of the architects of the original vote that brought national healthcare into being, she died at a California rest home, when she leaped from the balcony of her 19th floor suite.



 



For the last years of her life, she was living in a psychotic state, having been driven mad by a cocktail of psychiatric drugs that cause motor brain damage and several rounds of "preventive" chemotherapy, which did, in fact, prevent the cells of her body from reproducing.



 



One more casualty in the war that never ends.



 



The United States is party to an international treaty that forbids the use of chemical weapons. What I'm describing in this message...I wish I could go back into the past and alert the people of, say, 2013, who were watching their government debate a proposed attack on a country called Syria, based on a charge that the president of that country deployed chemical weapons on his people.



 



The debate took place at the time when the US medical system was killing, at minimum, 225,000 Americans every year, like clockwork, with its medicines.



 



What kind of ignorance and brainwashing did it take, then, to make the people of the United States overlook the fact that this was sustained chemical warfare at home, on themselves.



 



Legal, praised, heralded chemical warfare.



Delivered by needles, by pills.



 



Every hour of every day.



 



Jon Rappoport



The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. 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 www.nomorefakenews.com



 



Jon Rappoport



The author of an explosive collection, THE MATRIX REVEALED, and the New EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. 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 www.nomorefakenews.com




 




www.insolutions.info  


qjrconsulting@gmail.com

www.nomorefakenews.com 
  


 




Posted with Permission





Leda,

Yes.  you have my okay.


best, jon



On Sat, Sep 14, 2013 at 10:29 AM, Leda937 <Leda937@****.com> wrote:

May I have permission to repost your stories? I will not change them and source your page.



Respectfully,

Leda


 



 









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