Raising a Son Who Contains Henry Kissinger’s Mind-Files

by Brice Taylor

[Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from Brice Taylor’s book “Thanks for the Memories.”]

Craig and I used the “scientific method,” the same method we used in the past to insure that the sex of our third child was a boy. And he was. Daniel Robert Ford was born on March 15, 1982 at Los Robles Hospital in California. I was 31 years old.

I have little conscious memory of Danny as a baby. When he was visiting me in the summer of 1996, he looked at me emotionlessly and said, “Mom, I don’t remember anything about my child-hood.” He just stated the fact. What was very apparent to me was that my teenage son had no emotion attached to this statement or even any means to think this thought through to understand what it all might mean.

After I had my children, they always inflicted trauma on me and one or more of my kids (always with my daughter Kelly) before an assigned rendezvous took place. Those experiences were terrifying and horrific, so that my controllers felt very certain I would never gain access to memory of the experiences the trauma was meant to cover.

This time, we were in Catalina and my husband told the kids that we were going to look at a new hotel complex on the island. When we arrived, three men in suits told us to go into a room where there was a single row of chairs lined up against the wall. Passively and robotically, we complied. Kevin our oldest son, who then was nine, was the first in the line-up, then Craig, me, and Kelly, who was seven, and last, at the far end, our youngest, Danny, age 3.

One of the suited men took a razor blade or something similar and started with Kevin and slowly and deliberately ran it over the top of his legs, then onto Craig’s, then mine, Kelly’s and little Danny’s.

All of us were bleeding and traumatized, in a daze, physically frozen, staring straight ahead. I was terrified and panicked, but sat there, helpless to do anything to protect my children, as a result of years of abuse and mind control programming.

Craig could do nothing to defend the children or me. He couldn’t even defend himself. All of us just sat there like zombies with blood trickling off our burning legs. One suited man informed us, “This is just the beginning,” and they took Danny and threw him up against the wall.

With the air knocked out of him and in obvious pain, he crumpled over and crouched up into a small ball, already, at three years old, knowing better than to cry out. They always did something horrific and if the kids or I showed any reaction or retaliation, they would hurt another one of the kids or me even more.

Bob Hope’s Escapades

We owned a large family camper that was fully self-contained. At times we went up into the High Sierras, to visit Mammoth, Sequoia, Tahoe, Reno, Yosemite National Park, Big Bear, and Crestline. We also took the children to Six Flags Magic Mountain and, of course, Disneyland.

Bob Hope showed up in many of these locations. It seemed like he was everywhere. Sometimes Bob would snap his fingers in front of my face or jingle his keys in front of my eyes to get me to respond. He often liked to meet for sex or information exchange in mountain cabins. …He usually spoke in clever little lines and phrases.

What actually occurred often was a rendezvous with Bob or some leader they needed to get information to. Sometimes Reagan was brought out on a little ocean excursion and ended up navigating right to us. I was then transported aboard with him for sex and messages. Sometimes I stayed all night with him on his transport. He said he was very upset with Henry Kissinger for taking so many matters into his own hands. He said he knew a few hours with me would help him snap out of the mood he was in.

NASA    

When Danny was an infant we went for programming together. He was a year old when his inner-space mind files were created in order for him to have a wide range of access points, without the necessity of as much trauma as was necessary back in the days when mine were created. Time had shown our controllers that trauma itself was one cause for the breakdown in slaves. So Danny was exposed to their newer technology, from birth.

Danny and I were both heavily programmed and cross-programmed together. I was there with Danny when he was 3 or 4 years old. It seemed like a school field trip, but the events that unfolded were otherwise. Danny had on a light blue T-shirt. We were sitting with other mothers and children, in the front row of a circular auditorium.

Men in NASA suits, who were dressed like astronauts were all around and one of them came over, lifted Danny up and put him into a chair. “Like the real astronauts sit in!” the man explained. This chair had equipment all around it.

Danny smiled so sweetly across the auditorium at me like he was so proud and so happy to be chosen to sit in the big astronaut chair. There was such anticipated excitement and innocence in his joyful smile. Soon the man instructed him to lean back so his head was properly aligned to fit into a silver band and when Danny was in the proper alignment, I watched the NASA official clamp the back of the silver band to fit snugly around his little forehead.

Danny looked up at the NASA official, eyes wide with innocence and youthful exuberance, and smiled as the man said to Danny, “Hold on for the ride of your life!”

They brought in some sort of glasses (virtual reality?) to rest in front of Danny’s eyes and told him to look into the viewer. Then to my horror, the man standing next to Danny gave a cue to another man and I watched in agony as Danny’s little body jolted.

They must have been giving him electroshock After a time, his little body went limp and he was unconscious. I was dying inside, but knew from many past experiences with his older brother that if I made any attempt to interfere things would only get worse for all of us, especially Danny, so against all maternal protective instinct, I maintained my composure.

Pretty soon the NASA official waved a smelling salt or something in a cotton ball bound with gauze, in front of Danny’s face. He came to abruptly and they released him from the equipment and then from the chair. He was sweating profusely around his forehead and under his nose. As the man helped him out of the chair, Danny looked over at me and several facial expressions quickly washed over him.

At first he looked utterly humiliated and embarrassed, which was soon replaced with a look of utter shame that spread over his entire face and down his little body. He could barely walk over to me and when I stood to help him, the NASA man said, “He’s a big boy, he can do this on his own.”

Soon we were escorted out, put on a shuttle back to the airport and were flown home.  None of this experience was available to my conscious mind until years later when I began the gruelling process of deprogramming. Danny has no memory of this event available to his conscious mind.

Danny’s mind files were filled with data early on and expanded after he was three years old. I drove him to Point Mugu or we were intercepted at the intersection of Kanan and Agoura Road, and got in the car with these men.  They usually drove a dark colored sedan with tinted windows. Whether I drove or not, these men took my son from me at Point Mugu in the morning, and returned him back to me at the car by late afternoon.

Henry Kissinger filled Danny with high-level information, intended to span many years and to be delivered whenever necessary at specific future dates to large crowds of people. Danny had historical files put in, as did I.

At Born Learners Preschool at three to four years of age, Danny started special computer classes that kept him at school long hours, sometimes into the evening. When I asked him if he wanted to stop he always said he loved it, as did his best friend Justin. I believe programmers do more of the training via computer screen now, often using virtual reality. After computer class, I took the two of them to Monarch’s Gymnastics.

I thought I would not be able to bear the pain and grief when I began remembering scenarios of the ways in which I’d been programmed to be a part of my children’s preschool mind control experiences. This is information I’d prefer to withhold as it goes against everything I believe in, but in order for people to understand how this system works, it is necessary for me to share the following.

This event occurred in Danny’s preschool. On occasion, I helped out in the class. I remembered standing with Danny’s teachers who were instructing the children in a game; they all had to take their clothes off, step onto a colored circle and then take turns doing sexual acts to the child next to them.

The games always took place at the same time in the mornings and were centered around colors, music, body movement and hand signals. Hand signals were taught to the children this way and put to music for reinforcement. There was a VCR off to the side of the classroom where an individual child was placed to watch a special pre-selected tape. …

Danny completed computer classes in preschool before he was four years old. During my deprogramming process, I was horrified when I remembered that I continually read him the story of Danny and the Dinosaur. As I re-read the story years later, I found a phrase in the book, which states, “there’s no place to run, no place to hide.”

And here again was example of how I, as his programmed parent, was used to keep my own son’s programming locked tightly in place, reinforcing the programs that were used to keep the parts of his mind that were compartmentalized for our controller’s use, separate from his conscious awareness.

Henry Kissinger has been Danny’s main man. He was the one calling the shots and organized the creation of Danny’s mind files for NASA/military use.

Danny was, and may still be, scheduled for a major position within NASA one day, following in the footsteps of his grandfather Ford and Uncle Lyle Curran. They have him scheduled to become a scientist. I overheard Henry talking to someone about it.

Danny has very specific programming themes that center around all the planets — Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Pluto, Saturn, etc., and I was programmed to tell him often before he went to sleep, “I love you to the moon and much, much, much, much, more than that. A thousand times more than that. A trillion times more than that,” and on and on until we got to the highest number beyond infinity, and Danny knew that number. For some reason I can’t remember it. I never could. Then, he would go to sleep.

Danny and Kelly both had those neon, glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on their ceilings and so did I. Danny has tons of high tech information in his brain. I saw him demonstrated at Point Mugu when they put him in front of a group to demonstrate his capabilities. Henry took Danny to different locations to “display the technology,” showing that a five year old could appear to be genius level, “a computer whiz.”

He had mega memory, displaying the intelligence level of what they termed a “Junior College Student.” Danny was seen as having the intelligence of the future and they said he would blossom in high school, whatever that meant.

They said that, by then, Danny would be fully functional and used by them extensively in international work. Henry talked a lot about Danny and I remember Danny holding onto Henry’s leg one time when he was demonstrating Danny in front of a whole group of people.       [All emphasis added]