of this evil force, one that at this time you are unable to be aware of.
As the concert proceeded, Barbra said, 'I am going to light this candle in memory of all those wise and good men whose lives were senselessly and violently snuffed out before their time: Lincoln, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, John Kennedy, Anwar Sadat, Olaf Palmer, men of peace and vision, voices the world so desperately needs now — father figures. I think we've all lost someone whose guidance and wisdom we miss in times of fear and confusion, and this is for them.' After which she sang: 'May the light of this flickering candle, illuminate the night the way your spirit illuminates my soul.' Sounds to me like bits and pieces of reminders of people I watched killed over the years.
Next in her backyard concert, Barbra sang Pa Pa, where the lyrics say, 'Pa Pa can you hear me? …Looking at the skies I seem to see a million eyes which ones are yours?' Again, there is the 'eyes watching you' theme.
Next was, of course, Memories, with the lyrics reminding our subconscious minds: 'Memories like the corners of my mind, misty water-colored memories like the way we were. Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind, smiles we gave to one another for the way we were. Can it be that it was all so simple then or has time rewritten every line, if we had the chance to do it all again, tell me would we, could we? Memories may be beautiful and yet, what's too painful to remember we simply choose to forget. For it's the laughter we remember, whenever we remember the way we were.'
At the end of her concert, in a patriotic quest, Barbra sang America the Beautiful and invited the audience to join with her in song.
During those years, (although at the time I was consciously unaware of my involvement) her therapist and I were often in charge of keeping Barbra stable and balanced. The therapist worked with her psychological state and I worked on her body, doing massage therapy, accupressure, polarity therapy, etc. All this was done to keep Barbra in shape and in line. She was fragile and needed a lot to keep her going.
I was called in often to shore Barbra up, especially in between times when she was out of relationship or having problems with her male friends. Later in her career, she had trouble even having sex with men. When she was alone, she would get scared at night and need someone. As programmed, I'd go over after my children were taken care of or when our maid was there, at which time I was free to go at anytime. I held Barbra and did whatever she seemed to need to get her stabilized.
We walked on the beach a lot, especially after she bought the home away from the Colony nest (the grouping of homes she owned) and people that knew her. She bought a place just a few blocks down the street. It was very clever because if people thought they saw her on the beach, they could assume she was at home, but then she'd disappear into the anonymous home that was purchased in another name to give her the privacy she needed. Then her therapist and I could go to her there unnoticed. She wanted privacy even from her maids, and would arrange for her therapist and I to be with her. If she didn't call on the car phone and tell me, she would walk to the new house and call me from her bedroom. I was instructed to go to the front gate and from a call box tell the maid a coded message to give to her. Barbra usually gave the maid the rest of the day off, explaining she was going to be with friends. Then after the therapist and myself arrived, we would take her to 'the house-house,' as she called it. One night we were called out for a 'Barbra emergency' and when her therapist and I arrived we found Barbra in the closet upstairs at the 'house-house, even before it was carpeted. She couldn't wait. She was all huddled into a little ball and crying with her hair all stringy and hanging in her face. She looked like a little frightened child. She was breaking down often and her controllers couldn't afford for her to break up yet. She was a real mess. She just survived to do what they needed her to do. She sat in my lap and I nurtured her and she showed me her dolls and things. I massaged her and did reflexology, accupressure, polarity, whatever I could do to help her. I did body treatments on her often, usually more than once a week — up to five times a week — and it usually ended up in sex as she initiated it.
Barbra had to be kept together because she had been used to make the connections to some very important people, and especially to the masses. Because she had been so heavily invested in, as a mind control asset, they now had to keep her «maintained» 24 hours a day at times and had to use other slaves to shore her up. Unlike a «normal» person, she could never talk about what she saw and remembered in private (during sleep or upon awakening) without being monitored. Whatever it took or cost was worth it to her controllers because they built her up to a certain targeted audience so completely that her controllers paid exorbitant amounts of money to keep her together, and her fans would pay any amount to see her. Many may themselves be under mind control.
They carefully prepared Barbra to harmonically control crowds. She did, not only with the natural talent she has and the trained harmonics in her voice, but also with the hand signals and word combinations she sang. She is a total robot and is breaking down, but they will spend a fortune to keep her together (like poor Elvis) until she just can't function anymore.
So no expense was spared for her. We organized little tea parties for Barbra based on different themes given to us by my professor in the Master's program. We'd buy items that were just made for Barbra. I would stop at Michael's Party Shop and give them the list of items and the sales people would gather it all up for me. Then I'd go to Barbra, switched to the personality inside of me who was created to be older than me and older than Barbra, the one who was designed to care for the 'Big B,' the 'Queen B,' when she needed it. She was our friend. We hated to see her crumble.
Sometimes the Council gave me different drugs for Barbra. She always got to choose one, but I think they all must have done the same thing, just packaged in different wrappers or capsules. As soon as she would pass out, and that is what she always did, a group of men would come into the house with equipment to work on her. Sometimes it looked like her body came off the couch from the electroshock. It was awful to watch. Then when they took the equipment off of her body, it would be cold and clammy, yet she would have a band of sweat on her face. It was my job, or her therapist's, to get her back on her feet again. Sometimes she would sleep for days afterward. Then I heard them say they had to adjust her, that is, give her more 'sessions.' When she came around we would be soft and kind and gentle to her and
200 eventually she would come out of it. A friend of her therapist helped Barbra, too, on nights she couldn't. It became increasingly difficult to manage getting her put back together. It was a team effort.
I gave her injections, also. I was taught to pinch the skin on the top fatty portion of her arm, then stick the needle in it so I couldn't hurt anything. I was given a syringe to deliver drugs to arms or thighs when and if the need arose, which later became quite often. I had to give Barbra the injections whenever they told me to; otherwise they would have killed us both. I'd seen them do it to others.
Barbra liked for me to sing with her and harmonize. She said it made her feel happy like the good ole' days when she was young. She had on pink bell bottoms and a white tank top. She was really out there, stoned, drunk, or drugged out of her mind.
The massage idea helped keep a slave enslaved and contained because the accupressure points often matched up correctly with programmed touch spots. It worked well. Bodywork eased the stress of the body while locking the mind in program — a great leisurely and heavenly containment idea to further imprison mind control slaves. With rich and famous slaves they said it was easy because they could send them off on endless journeys, trips, workshops, special spas, expos, etc., because these slaves had the money to pursue different avenues that often led them directly back into containment. The Colony is not far from Point Mugu Naval Base (a mind control programming center) and seems to have been in conveniently close proximity for reconditioning purposes. More on Point Mugu later.
They also programmed us to «psychically» deliver messages or directions for slaves to follow, since we all had the belief in psychic gifts, etc. and were so suggestible. To some celebrities (most of them women), while giving them a massage, I would touch certain 'points' on their body while dropping a psychic prediction and they would think I was really gifted when in a few days, my prediction would come true. The higher the level of the slave, the more the controllers were willing to invest financially to make the predicted experience 'come to pass.' Someone of Streisand's stature and programmed investment was worth a 'prediction come true episode' that had class and dignity. This is not to say that I don't believe in psychic reality, because I do, but these psychic realities were created and controlled, by those who sought to create circumstances that were making them lots of money.
I was used with Streisand most often in 1985–1987, during the time I attended Pepperdine University in Malibu. Before 1985, I was sent to her when she needed me in the evenings in Malibu. Craig often drove me out to dinner to accomplish these rendezvous, but after I started at Pepperdine, I would tell him that I had to go back to the campus to study. I often parked in the Pepperdine Library parking lot where I was picked up by the men in
