Thank you for informing me about your “Itt Consultancy” service. I hope that you will help me in much the same way that you have helped many other ‘truthers’. For many years I’ve had few people to truly confide in, as I’m often deeply misunderstood by those who don’t know me very well at all. Sometimes I think about giving up on my life as a “Scientist”, to become a Rap Artist instead – just so that I may say to those who like to stereotype me: “If you don’t know me; don’t judge me!” – as 2Pac often said. I can really rap you know:
I’m a doctor, doing what I can. Gonna fix everything, till the appearance of man. Yo, Yo, see me, I’m livin’ just to toil. I’ll be back, but I’ll be comin’ as a royal! This is rock ‘n’ roll!
That’s an awfully hot coffee pot, should I drop it on Donald Trump? Probably not… Donald’s a bitch and he’s orange! [I must be losin’ it, ‘cause nothin’ rhymes with orange!] You better lose it to the music, and never let it go, you got just one chance to flow, so know what you’ve gotta know, ‘cause opportunity comes just once in a life-time!
Alas, my fate is one of a Scientist. Because I’m a woman, many don’t think I’ve got the brains or stamina for scientific study – so I often have to go to large group multimedia presentations wearing a scientist’s long white coat – which I absolutely hate wearing because ‘white’ isn’t really my favourite colour! I’m definitely a Scientist because I’m a keen proponent of the “scientific method”, and (let’s face it) nobody can be worse as a ‘scientist’ than the Israeli Mister “I am the Universe” Dr. Robert Lanza. He should just go back to impersonating his freaky Sandy Hooker infamous cloned Lanza relatives. Some say I’m a supporter of Israel because I’m Jewish, but why would I have ‘beef’ with, or hate on Dr. Lanza if I were indeed pro-Israeli? It just doesn’t make any logical sense at all. And talking about logic: I really ‘hate’ it when Dr. Jim Fetzer comes on radio just to interrogate me with his so-called ‘logic’. The last time I was on radio with him, he tried to get me to consider “suspicious people” as part of my ‘evidence’ gathering for 9/11 Truth. He kept saying that we needed to establish “who did it and why”. That’s absurd logic! As what could be more compelling as solid EVIDENCE than all the wonderful photographs that are in my book “Where Did The Towers Go”? That book basically explains EVERYTHING – other than that pesky little thing called “Directed Energy Weapons” – DEWs. How can we possibly know the “who and why” of things if we don’t know what Itt is (sorry I meant ‘it’- DEWs I mean)?
Admittedly, we don’t know exactly what these DEWs are, or where they came from, but what we do know for sure, is that they sure in hell do exist – because they’re in my frickin’ book, that’s why! I’ve got the Real Deal, the real Slim Shady, the Low-down of the Show-down, the real conclusive proof of DEWs for sure – whatever they may happen to be! As why else would we have such anomalies as “toasted cars”, freaky hurricanes and surviving gravity defying fire-fighters? Sometimes when I show video evidence of the surviving fire-fighters, cynical people (like the Tavistock Presstitute’s sock puppet Simon Shack) suddenly jump up to say how they’re all just “crises actors” pretending. One surviving fire-fighter – who says he was 33 years of age at the time, and who is pictured with fire helmet numbered ‘6669’ – is even considered to be a Freemason for some odd reason – just because of the occult numbers ‘33’ and ‘666’. It seems some ‘truthers’ have a hard time with my “dustification” evidence (not theory!), as they question why the fire-fighters were not dustified too during the sudden freefall collapse of the buildings. All I can say to that question is: “miracles DO happen!” So just believe – more so than you would in Justin bloody Believer-Beaver!
Now I’m going to tell you a little secret of mine. A secret that I haven’t revealed to anybody ever before! It’s now time for me to free my soul and express my true inner feelings. My secret is that I’ve always had a deep crush on Dr. Jim Fetzer. There, I’ve finally said it – hot flushes go away, come back another day! I get really, really shy, bashful and awkward whenever I’m around him. Sometimes, when he acts all manly and logical, I’m left totally speechless. I justify my awkward silence (i.e. to any radio host interviewing us) by pretending to be offended by his manly logical fierce persona. I pretend that I’m scared because “he threatens me” and thus makes me quiver from head to toe – shiver me timbers! But that’s not really true at all. I’m just deeply and madly in love with him and nobody knows about it but me, and now, I suppose, you too.
I first knew that I was madly in love with Jim Fetzer, the day he first invited me to his house to meet his wife. In his manly presence, just the smell of his aftershave alone would make me swoon with romantic nostalgia. I was really embarrassed because I thought his wife might suspect something. And so, in my awkwardness, I hastily told Jim’s wife to hold my two pussy cats, and then I immediately threw them on her! I didn’t mean to appear arrogant or rude by pushing my cats in her face, because that was just a spontaneous impulsive reaction to conceal my true feelings for Jim. I know it was a really awkward thing to do, and I know Jim Fetzer still wonders about that incident to this very day – because I heard him complaining about it recently on radio. Sometimes when Jim is ‘interrogating’ me ‘live’ on radio with his husky manliness, I have to constrain myself from blurting out in joyous song: “I’m your mysterious Directed Energy Weapon! Arrest me! Get up stand tall, put your back up against the wall, my love is dangerous, this is a bust! Drop your weapons, you’d better come clean, I’ve got you covered, I’ll catch if you fall for me, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m not that kind, you’re not going nowhere ‘til you have a change of mind.”
I’ve never known a man to age so gracefully with such flawlessly smooth facial skin, that most women can only dream of having. I really am in total awe of Jim Fetzer – with his smooth hairless and wrinkle-free facial skin to die for – made even more wonderful considering he’s supposed to be a battle-hardened military man. I bet even Cushy Kushner (Donald Trump’s baby-faced paper bitch drama queen) is even jealous of him – as no amount of Trump money can ever buy that kind of natural beauty. Jim’s got the look, he must’ve took, a whole hour just to make up his face. Did I say an hour? My face is red! I stand corrected. ‘cause he’s got that natural beauty unaffected! Now I know how those royal women (who once tried to seduce Prophet Joseph all those many years ago) must have felt. Such flawless beauty is unprecedented in a man of such military stature as Dr. Jim Fetzer. With a bit more hair on his big bald head, he could almost be perfect… sorry, wait a minute, he IS perfect!
How can I ever let my true feeling be known to Dr. Jim Fetzer when he is a married man? I’m an old-fashioned kind of gal and believe in romantic ‘true’ love. Perhaps if Jim Fetzer converts to Islam, I might consider being his second wife in a “halal” sort of way. Another secret of mine is that I’m considering reverting to Islam, as it was Muslim scholars who first invented the concept of the “scientific method” – Professor Jim Al-Kalili once explained this on one of his BBC T.V. programmes. I tried to save the Muslim Ummah by telling the truth about 9/11 from a strictly evidence-based perspective, but people don’t like hard evidence as it scares them too much. They’d much rather settle for the comfort of wild speculation, or wallow in petty racial-political hatreds. If my DEWs don’t exist, then why would people in California now be pointing out the strange blue “laser beams” coming from the sky? Such beams were openly seen and filmed starting all those so-called ‘wild’ fires. DEWs are obviously being used with HAARP technology to modify our weather and cause huge storms, hurricanes, and wildfires – seemingly outta nowhere!
As an aside, I’m afraid Gordon Duff may have a secret crush on me. Recently, he secretly endorsed my DEW evidence on the phone to a few of my colleagues – as documented by my friend Abraham Hafiz Rodriguez. But I will never accept Duff as a romantic lover, as my heart belongs to Dr. Jim Fetzer only. Until I can learn to overcome my girlish crush on Jim, I will always avoid Jim’s company and pretend to ‘hate’ him – just so that he never suspects anything. It’s a bit like being in a real-life “Pride and Prejudice” romantic Jane Austin novel that begins: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a wealthy logical professor is in need of a Wonder Woman with two pussies.” But I never wanted to be a lonely old hag Wonder Woman cat lady – like some kind of Wicked Witch of the West on steroids! But fate is a cruel thing indeed. Talking about the Wicked Witch of the West, I had a horrible dream about her the other day. My dream went something like this:
I was asleep in a rocking chair at Jim Fetzer’s house – like a beautiful Sleeping Beauty dreaming and longing for my Prince Charming to come and rescue me from my Ivory Tower – with his manly military warrior strong tower-climbing arms – like a smooth-skinned hairless white version of King Kong seeking his beloved Beauty. Then I suddenly woke up and noticed Jim Fetzer was hiding behind the door spying on me. Pretending not to see him, I then tried to seduce him by reading softly (to the two pussies sitting on my lap at the time) the fairy-tale story “Sleeping Beauty”. I read aloud in a deep seductive voice: “…and then Sleeping Beauty said: “Who is that tall handsome man? That brave, strong, muscular, Uncle Fester-like manly-man? That silky-smooth hairless bald man?” …” I must’ve then sparked some romantic feelings in Jim because he suddenly ran away shouting: “She’s driving me wild!” Unfortunately, his wife overheard him and shouted back, “Who?!” Jim then stupidly replied: “Judy!!” His wife then came storming into my room like some deranged demonic entity, grabbing my two pussies. I yelled at her, “Nooooo! Not me pet pussies!! Anything but them!” But it was too late. In a split second she’d cruelly swung them out of the window, as far as the eye could see. I could feel the
utter rage build up inside of me, and (just like that Storm character from the “X-Men” movie) I summoned the mighty powers of Hurricane Erin to my rescue. Jim’s house was then blown far, far away, until it landed on the Wicked Witch of the East (aka Osama Bin Ladin). I was suddenly in the merry ole land of Oz and welcomed by the Good Witch. But then the Wicked Witch of the West abruptly appeared and demanded that I surrender to her my ruby slippers. The ruby slippers were glittery ruby-red because they were made from Red Rose Nebula star dust – that had once exploded from a powerful star 3,000 light years away from Earth. My ruby slippers were the only thing (in the whole entire Universe) powerful enough to destroy any Directed Energy Weapon invented by the Wicked Witch of the West.
The Good Witch advised that I should follow the “Yellow Brick Road” to the mysterious Wizard of Oz, and under no circumstance allow the Wicked Witch to take my ruby slippers. As I walked up the Yellow Brick Road, I met some very strange characters indeed. First there was a Tin Man – who happened to be none other than Dennis Cimino. He said he was a “Tin Man” because he had spent so many years as a U.S. military pilot, that he’d practically become “one and the same” with his fighter-jet’s aluminium-tin metal. Then there came the Straw Man (aka Tony Rooke), and then finally the handsome King of the Forest – a lion-like character named Jim Fetzer. Each wanted to accompany me (with my two pussy cats sitting in a picnic basket) to see the Wizard of Oz.
Suddenly, we all felt very sleepy because we were in a field full of poppies – most likely the sort the military-industrial complex often brings from war-torn places like Afghanistan – just to fund their never-ending wars against the Wicked Witch of the East – who is now fish food anyway. I fell fast asleep and was then kidnapped by the Wicked Witch’s flying monkeys – who happened to be dressed like American native red Indians for some odd reason. I was then taken to the witch’s castle guarded by her military men chanting; “We all love the old one”. The witch demanded that I hand over the ruby slippers, and threatened to throw my two pussy cats out of the tower window if I refused. I immediately then tried to take my slippers off to give to her. But then the witch suddenly cackled: “No, you fool! These things have got to be done delicately, as otherwise you break the spell!” The witch then tried to get me to remove my slippers by way of mind control. She pretended to be a misunderstood ‘good’ freedom-fighter witch – someone who was saving the American Native Indians from the racist author of the original “The Wizard of Oz” novel. The novel’s author allegedly endorsed the genocide of all Native American Indians in all of his news articles.
The witch then continually sang the musical “Wicked” song entitled “For Good” with lyrics: “… I’ve heard it said, that people come into our lives for a reason, teaching us something we must know, if we let them, and we help them in return, well I don’t know if that ‘something’ might be true, but I know that I am, who I am today, because I knew you… like a beautiful fresh-faced Fetzer lovin’ a Dr. Judy Wood, who can say if I’ve been changed for the better (I do believe that I’ve been changed for the better), because I knew you, I’ve been changed for good!”
Unfortunately, the witch’s psyop mind-control just didn’t work on me – not least because she had the worst screechy singing voice ever, with smelly witch breath too! She then had no other choice but to run off enraged in a cloud of green smelly smoke – presumably to figure out a way of removing my ruby slippers from my feet without breaking “the spell” – whatever that was! Luckily, my friends (Tin Man, Straw Man and Lion Man) came just in time to rescue me. We then resumed our journey to the Wizard of Oz – on the long and treacherous Yellow Brick Road.
We finally arrived at the Wizard’s Emerald Kingdom, with the sound of the witch’s voice echoing in the midnight air saying: “…I’ll get you my pretty and your little pussies too!” We then fearfully made our way to see the “Great and Powerful” Wizard of Oz, with great hope in our hearts. I had hoped to find my way back home. Then the Tin Man would get his new heart. The Straw Man would get a brand new brain, and the Lion Man would finally regain his courage.
Unfortunately, this sorry tale didn’t have a happy ending – as was perhaps intended by the racist writer of the original “Wizard of Oz” novel. In my dream version of the story, my pussy cats pulled the curtain (from the proverbial “man behind the curtain”) to reveal the Wizard of Oz was none other than Gordon Duff!! Then my so-called travelling ‘friends’ started acting all pussy-like complaining to him: “How could you!! How could you! We trusted you!!…” The Lion Man (aka Jim Fetzer) said to Gordon Duff: “How can I now possibly hold my head up high now with our “nuke theory” in the ‘truther’ community – now that I know who you truly are? You’re such a phoney! I bet your name isn’t even Gordon Duff. I bet it’s really just some pussified name like Bob Foote, or something more duffy-daft than that! Woe is me, woe is me. A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse… a nuke theory, a nuke theory, my kingdom for a nuke theory – that doesn’t stink of Duff’s psyop V.T. presstitution! All Duff ever does is film George Soros with Maryland Spankers all day long behind a curtain, with all their perverse elitist “Eyes Wide Shut” smoke ‘n’ mirrors sex magick rituals – that would even embarrass the satanic Aleister Crowley and his infamous Beatles music band!
Then Dennis Cimino wailed at the Wizard: “You were like a god to me! The great and powerful Wizard of Oz!! I studied your every move… but that was before I found out about movie tricks. I’m absolutely gutted!! I bet you even worked for mass-murdering evil corporations like DuPont and Monsanto, whilst sucking up to the infamously evil Nazi sympathiser George Soros, whilst also openly boasting about shooting innocent Vietnamese in the Vietnam War! Hell no!! How can I ever live with myself knowing now what I know about you – these are “known knows” that even Donald Rumsfeld would shrink in horror at – so much so that our collective cognitive dissonance instantly turns them into “known unknowns”! And to think what I did to make you out to be some sort of people’s ‘hero’ – by writing endless articles for you on “Veterans today”. Shiver me timbers! I’m going to walk the plank now and make sure my tin metal rusts for good – by diving into the deep blue sea – because I’ve always been caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, but now (at long last), I choose the sea! I’ll baptize in ocean waves like a Merman until I atone for all my unspeakable sins. So goodbye me ole hearties! We’ve all become Pirates of the Constitution now! This ain’t just some innocent “Human Nature” freak show – for us to all just sit and wonder why something like this could ever happen to us – to US!! So don’t bother me now with your idiotic “who, how and why” questions. This is totally alien to the very fabric of our collective human existence – plain and simple! Savvy!!
Then Tony Rooke yelled in horror at Duff the Wizard: “How could you Duff?!! How could you!! I imagined you to be my amigo. We were like The Three Amigos: You, me and Dr. Richard Gage, but then (like a spoilt little paper-bitch brat) you go and spoil everything!! Even more so than when your little paper-bitch Ian Greenhalgh infamously gave the game away – by openly revealing the CIA fraud behind your little “nuke theory” – as none other than Putin’s paper-bitch Edward Snowden feeding you disinformation! I’ll see your sorry ass in court – a British Court at that – because I’ve got a Sixth Sense now and I see dead people – and what could be more legally dead than the British court legal justice system! You scum-sucking pigs! You sons of a motherless goat!! I don’t need your stupid Duffster brain now, or even a frickin’ British Bullshit Corporation T.V. licence for that matter! I’d much rather stick with the one brain-cell I’ve already got – even if it means sucking up to cowardly cops, or fire-fighters – with their tight pants on, all day long, forever and ever!! Gordon, you’re a fake and a phoney and I wish I’d never laid eyes on you!! Gordy can’t you see, I’m in misery, love has flown all alone, I sit and wonder why, why, why, oh why, you left me, Oh Gordy! Gordy, my Duffster, you hurt me real bad, you know it’s true… I can’t go on now; knowing what I know now about you…
In contrast to my ‘truther’ peers overly dramatic reaction, I (Dr. Judy Wood) reacted to the knowledge that Gordon Duff was indeed “The Wizard of Oz” with bored resignation. I did what I usually do in Duff’s presence – I yelled: “Stay away from me you lazy-eyed freak! You’re like Dr. Evil chasing after his cloned son for a hug. You suddenly disappear and then come back, after all these years, pretending to be a “truther”. I hate you!! You’re like the diet coke of trutherism – one calorie – not ‘truther’ enough! You’re quasi-truther! The margarine of ‘truther’. The “mini-me” of trutherism. As infinitesimally minuscule as the fleas on a sea-monkey’s back – totally irrelevant and more extinct now than ever before – like a baby bird-brained reptilian T-Rex trying to evolve back to life in some Jurassic Park freak’s GMO laboratory! So repeat after me: “There’s no place like home…There’s no place like home….”
Then there was a sudden unexpected twist to the tale of my strange dream. Christopher Bollyn suddenly comes crashing through the window in a big hot air balloon, and lands the balloon right on top of Gordon Duff! Squashing him flat as a pancake – much like how the Wicked Witch of the East had been flattened by Jim’s house falling from Hurricane Erin storm’s tornado. We all then bowed in absolute adoration at the man who would be king – Christopher Bollyn, of all people! – The Mister “I’ve got a love-hate relationship with Mossad Israeli women” type of guy – you know the sort. He only pretends to ‘hate’ them with his anti-Israel 9/11 theory whenever it suits him to do so – just so that he can get them into his temporary marriage bed! We, nevertheless, thanked Christopher for destroying the creepy fake Duffster Wizard of Oz, and for indeed being the one and only true king and “solver” of all ungodly puzzles. Thus, he was crowned as the only man who had well and truly “solved” 9/11 – just as he’d foretold all along – as proclaimed within all of his best-selling books entitled “The Man Who Solved 9/11” . So now (with all the spineless wormy-wizard “carry-on up your cowardly yellow brick road” malarkey going on), who else could have finally ‘solved’ the Crime of the Millennium but Chris Bollyn? All by his little lonesome ‘egoless’ self of course – as the Master of the Universe, and the true owner and rightful heir of the magical Ruby Slippers!
…And that was the end of my freaky dream, or should I say nightmare! But I digress – so back now to reality – where was I again, oh yeah: I secretly fancy Dr. Jim Fetzer, and that creepy Gordon Duff guy wants to steal me D.E.W evidence, with all me lucky charm black pussies. He’s always after me lucky-charms! And 9/11 was an inside job…and Ace Baker is a hairy monster, and Alex Jones is an Islamophobic illuminati Game Card “Agent-in-place”… and false-flags are now here, there and everywhere – with lions, tigers and bears, oh my! With GMOs, Chem-trails, and DEWs, oh my! And… and…and [altogether now]: “Live from New York; it’s Saturday Night!!”
I’m going now with Tony Rooke to boogie ‘n’ sing (at “The World’s End” British pub – with its prim ‘n’ proper – stiff-upper-lip – revolutionary table-cloth-wearing warriors). To sing that classic all-time cop and fire-fighter’s favourite song – first made famous on “Saturday Night Live” by Will Ferrell and friends, entitled: “I’ve Got My Tight Pants On”. Followed by that hot-rock song – as sung wickedly by our very own U.S. “Cable Guy” Jim Carrey, entitled: “Don’t You Want Somebody To Love”, which goes something like this: “When your ‘truth’ is found to be lies, And of all of the hope in you dies, Don’t you want somebody to love, Don’t you need somebody to love, Wouldn’t you want somebody to love, You better find somebody to love…”
Thank you Itt (whoever you are) for taking the time to listen to me. That’s all a person ever really needs in this sad ‘n’ lonely cruel ole life – just someone to take the time to listen for a change – instead of being all opinionated with a head full of stupid “theories” – unlike my purely EVIDENCE-based book: “Where Did The Towers Go?”. Most people wouldn’t know that little thing called “evidence” if it came and hit them on the friggin’ head – like a frickin’ house falling on top of them in the frickin’ Hurricane Erin wind! So hear me now sing:
…I don’t care if I sing off key, I found myself in my melody, I sing for love, I sing for me, I shout it out like a bird set free!
…This is It! Here I stand; I’m the light of the world. I feel grand, What is love…
…What is love? Jimmy don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more, What is love?
…Love makes the world go round. Don’t judge a man ‘til you’ve been standing in his shoes, You know we’re all so quick to look away, It’s an easy thing to do, You know that what I say is true… There’s hunger everywhere, We’ve got to take a stand, Reach out for someone’s hand, Love makes the world go round…
…Jimmy, Jimmy, I really loved you Jimmy. You’re much too wild for this town, There’s not much here that’s gonna hold you down, You’ve gotta lotta style, it should take you far. Take you further than my back yard. Jimmy! I really loved you, loved you, Jimmy! Shal-lal-a-la-laaaah!
…‘cause you’ve got style, That’s what all the girls say, Satin silky-skin with luxuries so fine, All your psyops are custom-made in London, But I’ve got something that you’d really like – Gonna dress you up in my ‘Evidence’ – all over your theory! Oh yeah! I love you boy! All over your “theory”!
… You met your match when you met me, Oh Jimmy! What can I do to ever make you see, You’ve been wasting all your time with V.T., What works for you, don’t work for me [not even your stupid unscientific nuke THEORY!] …It doesn’t matter if you win or lose, it’s how you play the game, so get into the groove, I’ve got the EVIDENCE baby, you’ve got devotion, If we get together we’d be causing a commotion. Causing a commotion! The love you save may be your own, I can’t help this feeling that I feel when I stand next to you…
…It doesn’t matter who you are, it’s what you DO that takes you far, and if at first you don’t succeed, here’s some advice that you should need: You get up again over and over, You get up again over and over, Hurry up now, hurry up …
Thank you and goodnight!
Dr. Judy Wood
p.s. There’s nothing “new” under our fake ‘sun’ with its phoney NASA sun simulator – so in case I don’t see ya: Good Afternoon, Good Evening and Goodnight!