By Ray Wilson
Operation Underworld
It didn’t start or end with Operation Underworld. It’s early; a hint of light brightens the battleship grey sky. The village is quiet; its occupants are sleeping blissfully. My hound, excited by the smells permeating the morning air, trots along at a fair pace. As we stroll along the deserted streets, I flick on my head-torch occasionally to avoid tripping over the various street paraphernalia.
The inhabitants of many of our towns all over England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales are fast asleep. Within the walls of cottages adorned with ivy, in our abodes and dwellings, the unbelievers find solace in the absence of beliefs. The church bells remain dormant, long after the lockdowns have gone, their tolls swallowed by the void of disbelief, leaving a vacuum where conviction once stood.
The parishioners, once fervent in their faith, now believe in the Cult of Covid, have families in conflict, have broken with traditions, and now meander through life with vacant stares, their minds stripped of certainties and convictions other than unquestioning belief in the science. That is the intention, but it is not our reality. Soon, it will be getting lighter.
Viral young men in lightweight hoodies—barracked in our hotel—will soon be out on manoeuvrers jogging in small, tight groups—stopping on the village green to work out upper body muscles—doing some intense pushups. Mass migration and the continued flood of refugees and asylum seekers exacerbate the instability of many countries in the West.
Unparalleled levels of migration are causing housing problems, along with the crime, anti-social conduct, and arrogant attitude displayed by many of those claiming asylum. I always say good morning to everyone and try to engage in conversation. I find that few of the newcomers have many words for me; most seem courteous. A long conversation is a rarity.
A friend who lives directly opposite the hotel, which was once popular with holidaymakers en route to more exotic locations, told me: “One of them spat in my daughter’s face; she was out walking the dog in the evening—it wasn’t even late.”
“Did you report it?” I ask.
“I did, but I was made to feel like some far-right racist,” she replies. “With all this war propaganda and talk of conscription, it makes me wonder—you know—will they fight for us or fight against us?”
“It’s a good question, and I don’t know the answer,” I say.
The hotels are full and will not accept any reservation requests for bookings until further notice.
Our children face a future where they will own nothing—never own a home or be able to raise a family—while the government’s Herculean effort to accommodate migrants, which was never enacted to help our homeless, our veterans, or our indigenous people, is rubbing salt deep into the wounds and adding insult to injury.
The next day is Saturday—another big motorcycle project—the first one of the new year.
“There’s condensation all over the rafters,” Rich observes, “we have to sort it out before we start on the fabrication of the sidecar canopy.”
“Let’s ask Steve,” I say to Rich. “He is the expert on glass fibre.”
Steve pulls onto the driveway, his car grounding noisily on the steep slope.
Dad makes his way along the path, walking with a stick in one hand and an empty shopping bag in the other. As Dad approaches, he greets us with a smile.
“Morning, gentlemen,” Steve declares. I notice the stash of blue masks in the centre console.
“Get a metre roll of one and a half-ounce fibre mat; that way you can use it stretched out in the corners. Don’t forget to make sure that you use plasticine in the radiuses, plenty of release agent, and a nice thick gel coat,” Steve explains as he opens the passenger door so dad can get in.
“Got your shopping list?” Rich shouts as he slams the door.
“And some cash,” I add.
“We don’t need any cash now,” Steve replies, “all digital identities and central bank digital currencies—don’t bother mentioning your Hegelian Dialectic Ray; it’s going to happen whatever you say.”
What is a possible problem-reaction solution? A manipulated market crisis was used by the government as a reason to introduce laws to benefit large corporations.
The man who broke the bank of England and possibly everything else:
George Soros, raised during the Nazi occupation of Hungary during World War II, is among the most successful and influential investors in history. He is also recognised for his philanthropy, humanitarian, and political initiatives, as well as his divisive opinions on a variety of subjects. However, arguably his most notable feat, “the trade of the century,” was his involvement in the devaluation of the pound in 1992. It made him £1,000,000,000 in just one day.
I well remember that Black Wednesday had a devastating impact on the British economy and politics in the short term; it caused misery for many working people struggling to make a living through economic contraction, through times of high unemployment, social unrest, and public spending cuts.
In 2015, Viktor Orban, Hungary’s prime minister, accused billionaire George Soros of attempting to flood the country with Middle Eastern migrants. Mr. Soros has appeared in the United States, where online conspiracy theorists and some Republican lawmakers have accused him, without evidence, of sponsoring a caravan of Central American migrants headed for the US border. Asked whether Mr. Soros was financing the caravan, US President Donald Trump said, “I don’t know who, but I wouldn’t be surprised. A lot of people say yes.”
“What would be the point?” My brother Steve asks. “Why would any government, anywhere in the world, enable illegal migration using people-smuggling gangs?”
“Why, that’s a good question,” I reply.
“I can’t believe this has even been mentioned in the papers,” Steve went on to say. “There is no point—what would any government have to gain? It makes no sense—why would a billionaire philanthropist waste money? It’s just another one of your flat earth theories, isn’t it, Ray?”
“I understand your scepticism, Steve,” I respond. “Some think that certain governments might have political or economic interests in destabilising other regions by encouraging illegal migration. Others argue that it could be a way to exploit cheap labour for their own industries.”
“Well, that didn’t go down well, Rich,” I say as Steve drives off.
Dad waves at us both from the car. Our family, always a mix of quaint serenity and reasoned argument, will never return to its glorious pre-Scamdemic days of debate. It rests in a paradoxical state of controlled quietude and volatility. A nihilistic void waiting to be filled by our collective spiritual energy to force change for good.
“We had better get on with listing the materials we are going to need, Ray,” Rich replies.
The list is long, precise, and detailed. We have much work to do. As we gather the materials, I can’t help but feel a sense of urgency and determination. It’s time to bridge the gap between silence and heated arguments and create a space where constructive conversations can flourish once again.
“So are we going to fabricate the mould as Steve suggested?” Rich asks.
After a slight pause, I reply, “I can’t think of a better way—he was right about us—of all people knowing exactly what it’s like.”
“Are you thinking about what he says about us being strangers in a strange land?” Rich asks.
“Yes, sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own land,” I respond.
“We had better think about fabricating this mould, Ray; we all love a challenge—you know, open minds and all that jazz.”
The inconsistency of seemingly random, unconnected events—a police car door left conveniently open to be vandalized—a security guard off on an impromptu lunch break—parliaments security cameras down-television cameras ready to whirl to catch protestors in their moments of glory.
Television cameras ready to roll for certain staged events—not so I remember for the million or more people in London on many of the freedom marches against the lockdowns—the jabs—silencing free speech—if it wasn’t televised—well, it didn’t happen—did it? It did, and we were there to testify to it.
Just Stop Oil protestors were arrested after breaking a glass covering a Velásquez artwork at the National Gallery in London, while others obstructed Whitehall. London police detained six people after the Extinction Rebellion environmental group protested in parliament, causing damage to the speaker’s chair. Four protestors were de-bonded, while two more were detained for climbing scaffolding and glueing themselves to the pavement.
Who finances these escapades? It is notable that serious money would be needed to charter cars and buses and manufacture professional signs. Serious money to enable access to protected areas of capital cities around the world. Serious money to enable certain events—funding news and television coverage—perhaps the cooperation of police and security agencies, especially if statues are to topple or are destined to fall. Who gains from the financing of these staged events? Who gains from promoting certain agendas and silencing others? They love darkness and deal in innuendo, half-truths-concocted stories. They will ruin the lives of whistleblowers using any means necessary—racist taunts, sex, drugs, blackmail, and far, far worse.
Who is lurking in the shadows? How during WW2 did Operation Underworld connect to the Office of Strategic Services, and how did it become an “enterprise” of evil attempting to engulf our world? More than ever, we know this is a spiritual war we are waging against unseen forces. It is a battle for truth, justice, and the preservation of our values. The manipulation and control exerted by these shadowy figures extend beyond mere political or financial gain.
They seek to dismantle the very fabric of our society, sowing division and discord among us. As we uncover the intricate web they have woven, we must remain vigilant and united in our fight against this pervasive darkness. Together, we can expose their malevolent intentions and restore light to our world.
The system is designed to benefit the privileged while silencing the voices of those who dare to question it. It’s a sharp reminder that power and money may manipulate the very foundations of justice, leaving us questioning the integrity of our society.
Do you feel overwhelmed by all the evil of today?
Do you want to help save the world, and especially souls, from corruption?
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Rom 12:21)
With Christ, all things are possible. Take part in Adoration.
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