Elvis Gave Up Rock N’ Roll for the Gospel: The Art of Psychodrama
First Act: The Disappearing Trick
READERS SEND me bizarre researching tips all the time. Had they not, I suppose articles like this would not be possible. For example, I was sitting here staring at the swamp water outside my window, just minding my own business, probably sipping on coffee. It may have been thundering too, and I seem to recall two alligators fighting over an insignificant island of water lilies and long grass. That’s about when my friend Shawn sent me an ominous message which simply read: BOB JOYCE.
I decided to take that rabbit hole, which brings us up to our present whereabouts. The faked death of Elvis Presley.
Also, Bob Joyce is Elvis.
One of these days, I half expect to receive a link to some clip from the channel 9 evening news in Ann Arbor or Albuquerque or some obscure college town. The segment I’m imagining is pulled from a surviving VHS recording during the sleepy hours of 2002, when post September 11 propaganda went into hyper overdrive and our Slave Masters needed the cognitive dissonance to really dig in. It devotes an entire minute to detailing some old fat man who looks exactly like Santa Claus. But on second glance, Jim Morrison. Come to think of it, everything about him screams The Doors leading man Jim Morrison. Only he goes now by two first names, Fred Todd or Cory Roger—or if the CIA was feeling especially frisky, Morris Jim. Understand, the segment isn’t about Jim Morrison Fred Todd. It’s only about the popularity of poetry reading night at Fact and Fiction, an independent bookstore only a block or two from the University. But as the story unfolds, we hear the store owner talk about Fred Todd’s obsession with poetry. He’s been coming in to poetry reading night every Wednesday for ten years, never missing a beat, and everyone who works in the book store knows it. We hear a lyric or two from Fred Todd’s work. It involves an Indian and a snake deity. He delivers the line like a spiritual shaman. We further learn that he’s obsessed with singing songs from The Doors and, come to think of it, they’re the only songs he knows.
Mm-hmm, Jim Morrison lives.
Sure, Fred Todd and the channel 9 evening news entire segment is only a figment of my imagination, but hang with me here, because there’s a point to this. Need I remind you that this is precisely what the CIA would do. In fact, we have every reason to expect them to haul out Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain and David Bowie and Michael Jackson and every other fake celebrity death. They only care to invest in their own projects, and Jim Morrison was a child of Langley. Morrison’s straight up Mk-Ultra. And worse, he was pimped out by his father. If you’re still hung up on the fact that I invented a scenario whereas an old fuddy-duddy recorded the channel 9 evening news in 2002 right after the latest episode of Jeopardy, then you’re failing to recognize the reality of the ongoing psyop. It’s spooks who not only ran the independent bookstore, they’re also responsible for releasing it onto The YouTube fifteen years later. For all we know, the book store never actually existed and the segment failed to run. Also, that Jim Morrison poster you hung up over your bed as an emblem of your free thinking was purchased at your local shopping mall because spooks ensured a poster stand would sell their products (Freddy Mercury, Elvis Presley, Tupac Shakur, Marilyn Monroe, Prince) halfway between the glorified bra boutique and the food court.
In past articles, I have already pointed out to you that John Lennon is still alive in the person of Lennon impersonator Mark Staycer, made known to us only because Staycer played the part of Lennon impersonator Noel Snow in the CIA sponsored Beatles movie Let Him Be. For a change of pace, I then theorized that the long digesting Paul Is Dead conspiracy derived from purposefully and masterfully placed subliminal messaging intended to show us that wizard Paul did die in 1966, but only symbolically, to re-emerge with the split psyche of Joseph Campbell, aka Billy Shears. In other words, Campbell and Shears are McCartney, just as Snow is Staycer and Staycer is Lennon.
The Art of Psychodrama
YOU’RE PROBABLY wondering why I’ve included the picture of a young freckle-faced woman, presently being hauled off by suits while seeming to appear in some sort of hypnotic state. If your guess is that she’s a naughty Elvis Presley fan, having rushed the stage to yank his scarf before the King chanced to lather it in the sweat of his brow, then you are wrong. Sometimes you can only milk a tit so much, and when it comes to the CIA, this is one of those instances.
The woman’s name is Lynette Fromme, but in the 1960’s, almost everyone knew her as Squeaky. On September 5, 1975, one of the last free members of the Manson family attempted to assassinate President Gerald Ford in Sacramento, California. I say attempted because, although Squeaky stood a little more than an arm’s length from Ford and pointed a M1911 pistol at him, she had not chambered a round, and the gun did not so much as fire. How an incompetent child with probably little to no firearm experience was able to wiggle her way up to the president, we are not told. When she finally came to, Squeaky was probably like: “What the hell am I doing here?” if you get my drift. Ford needed a little added spice to his campaign for gun control, and a CIA slave did just enough to keep the Manchurian Candidate narrative alive at the conspirator’s water cooler without taking a sledgehammer to everyone’s cognitive dissonance and expose the entire Manson narrative as another Langley home production.
After Ford’s painfully obvious fake assassination attempt, you’d think the CIA would tone the rhetoric down just a bit. Nope. America elected a Hollywood actor. Our leading man took a .22 Long Rifle bullet to his left underarm. We were never shown a bullet wound, and Reagan, 70 years-old at the time, miraculously recovered with a collapsed lung. But the psychodrama worked. The entire objective to the movie The Manchurian Candidate, where a captured soldier was, unknown to himself, turned into an assassin, was not merely to effect a political assassination. It was intended to end civil freedoms with the willing compliance of a cowed nation. Oh, and John Hinckley Jr.’s obsession with child prostitute Jodie Foster in the Martin Scorsese movie Taxi Driver was a nice touch—a CIA project inspired by another CIA project. They would go on to rub it in our faces by having Jodi Foster get brutally raped in the 1988 movie, The Accused. Foster’s continued nudity would be easier to spot—over an entire swath of films—than an actual photograph of Earth from space.
Just so we’re clear, the present subject is Mk-Ultra mind control, and I’m already rambling. Split psyches. Social engineering. Slavery. We’re dealing with magic. Real magic. Our Slave Masters will employ them to entertain us, but also to carry the narrative along, hence Lee Harvey Oswald and John Hinckley Jr., Charles Manson, and a young freckle-faced woman named Squeaky. In all cases, former and latter, they’re manipulating our emotions, molding us into the image of the New World Order. And when it comes to the traumatic deaths of countless Mk-Ultra’s, it would do us well to recognize the world is a stage and what we’re witnessing is a psycho-dramatic spin on the disappearing act. If the stage performance has taught us anything, it’s that people want to be fooled. Rather than spoiling the cost of admission by wanting to know how the slight of hand was preformed, they simply prefer believing, and being wowed by the illusion. Though the present whereabouts of CIA projects Kurt Cobain or Jim Morrison may be unknown, the point to this is that no disappearing act is complete without its retrieval.
The kid from the Arnold Schwarzenegger comedy Kindergarten Cop ended up at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, on June 17, 2015, having become the person we know now as mass shooter Dylann Roof. Yes, that’s a double dosage of “n” in Dylan. Somebody down at Langley was feeling frisky. If you don’t believe Hollywood parents would pimp their children out, then look no further than Brooke Shields. In 1975, she posed for the CIA run Playboy magazine as a ten year old. To this very day, child star actor Macaulay Culkin screams Mk-Ultra through his ongoing fetish with bunny ears. Need I remind you that Rear Admiral George Stephen Morrison pimped his own son out in the person of Doors front man Jim Morrison?
It would do you well to recognize that this is yet another entry in my Mk-Ultra celebrity death hoax series. I don’t care to be repetitive. Therefore, you can read my paper on Jim “The Lizard King” Morrison here. Gulf of Tonkin Hoax. Also, John Lennon. And Paul McCartney.
If you don’t know how the spook community manipulates our day-to-day perception of reality, then I highly suggest you read the following papers: Jackson Pollock. Andy Warhol. Shel Silverstein. The hippies. Woodstock. Pinocchio. George Floyd. Walt Disney. Ghislaine Maxwell. Donald Trump. The Boy Scouts of America. Winnie the Pooh. Anne Frank. Tom Cruise. Steven Spielberg. Hollywood.
Kapeesh? Let’s continue then.
You’ll probably remember with crystal clarity where you were and what you were doing the very moment you first heard of the September 11 psychodrama. Very few however will recall how the U.S. Corporate Government urged us over and over again in the months following, like a school bell always ringing in our ear, to spend, spend, spend. Just open up your wallet and spend something. Also, sing patriotic hymns about god and country, salute a flag, and eat Chick-fil-A. It’s the patriotic thing to do.
Roughly translated: “If you’ve maxed out your credit cards, take a loan and spend it.”
I was sitting here with a mostly blank page and a pencil lodged between my teeth, thinking about the faked assassination of John Lennon, the faked attempt on President Ford, the faked death of Michael Jackson and Elvis, and then finally the false flag attack of September 11… watching the Twin Towers repeatedly evaporate into dust on the television screen. Millions of middle-easterners were murdered in its aftermath and hardly anyone in America batted an eye. Has it been nearly 20 years already? Psychodramas are a magical stage performance which originate with the Mystery Religions. People can learn or be programmed to forget when properly traumatized. They are furthermore easily controlled by their handlers whenever association or memory of the trauma arises. Yes, I’m still hung up on the Mk-Ultra program.
In 1950, CIA director Allan Dulles approved Project Bluebird, which would later become Project Artichoke, and finally Mk-Ultra, with the following stated objectives:
- To discover a means of conditioning personnel to prevent unauthorized extraction of information from them by known means.
- To investigate the possibility of control of an individual by application of special interrogation techniques.
- To investigate memory enhancement.
- To establish defensive means for preventing hostile control of agency personnel.
I thought about the history of mind control, first through the use of drugs on the individual, but mostly the social engineering of all people through the use of television and the media. As previously mentioned, the ultimate point of these psycho-dramatic exercises, or rather, the intended spell, is to castrate society and make them compliant to tyranny (Cough. COVID-1984. Cough.) Sorry, I had something lodged in my throat.
And then it occurred to me.
My parents were ministry poor for the majority of my life and never spent money on anything. We grew up in a parsonage. But some of you know that already. Then they totally remodeled their home the following year after September 11. We’re talking new kitchen, new furniture. They spent money they didn’t have, and even took a loan out on the house to do it. Sure, my mother had wanted to remodel their house prior to 9/11, but that’s a technicality. The point is, she did it because the government told her to. A few miles away, my wife’s parents did the exact same thing. Their house had already been paid for decades earlier by my wife’s grandmother, but they went into deep debt taking out a loan, not only to refurnish the entire place, but knock out walls and add a jacuzzi. It was already paid for. They handed back ownership over to the banks.
I stood up and walked into the other room, where my wife was presently working, and I said: “Do you remember both of our parents refinancing their homes after September 11?”
Sarah shrugged: “Yeah. Just about everyone took loans out on their home after September 11.”
And I was like, “Exactly.”
The art of the psychodrama.
Second Act: The Curtain Closes on Elvis Presley
FROM EVERYTHING I’ve so far read, Elvis Presley fans tend to rightly conclude that Colonel Tom Parker was Presley’s handler. This much is almost undoubtedly true. Stories of how guys like Johnny Cash simply entered Sun Studios, recorded a song, and won a contract are all bunk. Mythology intended to manipulate us into perusing the American dream, thereby believing the potential for the god within. Their persistence, however, that Presley used the FBI to enter the witness protection program in order to escape The Colonel only makes sense in a Hollywood film production. In reality, the witness protection program is set up as a slight of hand for the psyop. Mm-hmm, the disappearing act. The entire 1986 crew of the exploded Challenger shuttle proves this point. Challenger. Also, Titanic crisis actors. Elvis Presley didn’t need shelter from the mob. If the government employed Elvis’ services for the purposes of espionage, taking on drug dealers and the hippies and the Black Panther party, it was only required course of the Mk-Ultra program. The CIA runs the drug war and they created the hippie. Try not to let cognitive dissonance win the day.
With Project Monarch, a mind-control program designed within Mk-Ultra, the CIA can split the psyche. In fact, they can create multiple split psyches. A handler can open up the safe box combination to the mind of his slave, tell him to go to one destination and do something, only to be told by his second handler to return to the first. The Mk-Ultra victim will never have a clue that his split psyche has murdered someone. Anytime their handler so chooses, he can kill one of them off. Remember John Lennon Mark Staycer emerging from Mark David Chapman’s gun beside Lennon’s handler, Yoko Ono? Then let’s talk about the death of Elvis Presley.
On the night of August 15, 1977, Elvis Presley visited the dentist. He and girlfriend Ginger Alden returned to Graceland sometime around midnight. Within hours, the pain from his temporary crown had set in. Elvis called his doctor, George Nichopoulos, aka “Dr. Nick,” to request more pain killers. Dr. Nick complied. Enablers surrounded him. Family drove to Baptist Memorial hospital to retrieve his prescription. Around 4am, Elvis woke up first cousin Billy Smith and his wife, Jo, for a lively game of racquetball. Within moments he hit himself with his own racquet and bruised his leg. The game was called off. By 4:30, Elvis was seated behind a piano. He sang a gospel hymn or two. By 5am, Elvis decided to turn in for the night with Ginger. He popped some pills, thanks to his enablers. At 7am, still unable to sleep, he ingested a second pack of pills. At 8am, he requested a third packet.
Around 9:30 on the morning of the 16, Elvis Presley sat upon the toilet.
“Don’t fall asleep in there,” Ginger said.
“Okay, I won’t,” Elvis replied.
Ginger then went back to sleep.
At 1:30 p.m., Ginger woke up to an empty bed. Knocking on the bathroom door produced no reply. When she opened up, the King was as good as dead. Baptist Memorial Hospital pronounced him as such some two hours later, at 3:30 pm.
At 8:00 p.m. that same day, medical examiner Dr. Jerry Francisco took control as spokesperson for the selected autopsy team, despite only witnessing the procedure. He announced that Presley’s cause of death was a cardiac arrhythmia due to undetermined heartbeat. Heart failure. Dr. Muirhead and the other members of the autopsy team were stunned. The hospital had come to no such conclusion.
Less than 24-hours would pass from his pronounced death to the opening of the casket. Approximately 20.5 hours. In that time an autopsy was given and a body was embalmed. His death certificate claimed him at 170 lbs rather than 250. Sixteen white Cadillac limousines were ordered. They managed to fly in a specially designed casket weighing 900 lbs, complete with 500 red roses sown into the casket blanket. His upcoming tour was canceled, despite the fact that Elvis hadn’t ordered any new jump suits. Vernon Presley made calls to fan club presidents asking that they and their members not attend. Even his closest friends were asked not to attend. Meanwhile, his personal Bible, pictures of his mother, and jewelry were reported missing. Also, his Lloyd’s of Condon life insurance policy was never cashed, though the King had already withdrawn a million from his personal checking account on the month prior. And yet, despite being an Army veteran, everyone managed a funeral but forgot to drape him in an American flag.
I am assuming this rare and sad looking photo was taken within the first two weeks after his death. I otherwise fail to see why these two young women would show up simply to mourn for Presley’s mother, and also be photographed doing it. Elvis did not remain buried there long, because in August of 1977 there was apparently a botched attempt to steal Elvis’ remains from the crypt, or so we’re told. The exact motive for this has never been revealed. The remains of both Elvis Presley and his mother were then moved to Graceland, where Elvis would be positioned between his father and grandfather, despite wanting to be laid next to his mother. Elvis Aron Presley’s middle name was furthermore misspelled on the Tombstone. Aaron with a double dosage of “a“. Reminds me of Dylann Roof. Nice touch. You may also notice the acronym “IHS” on the cross, directly above Elvis’ original crypt. It means “Jesus Savior of Mankind.” The term IHS derives from the order of Jesuits. Interesting.
But getting back to that autopsy report. The DNA obtained from the autopsy headed up by medical examiner Dr. Jerry Francisco failed to match Presley’s tissue sample taken from a 1975 biopsy. What this should immediately tell you is that the body the inspected in 1977 was not the same Elvis Presley from 1975. Not by accident.
We’re dealing with the disappearing act—the slight of hand. Spooks want you to tighten your eyelids and think about the abnormalities, but only for a passing moment. Actually, decades worth of passing moments. Rather than wrestling with them, they want you to push those irregularities and feelings deeper down into your subconscious so as to accept the official narrative. And yet they literally lay the bread crumbs out for you, so as to give you the illusion of choice. They want you to know that somebody out there concludes the death of Elvis Presley is a cover up, and also that they’re crazy for believing it. The irony here is that the intelligence community is feeding everyone, and I stress everyone on both sides, their Intel. For all I know, the botched attempt to steal Elvis’ body was a ghost from Langley.
The National Enquirer paid cousin Bobby Mann something like $78,000 for the now famous photo of Elvis lying in his 900 lb coffin. He captured the waxy looking figure with a Minox camera. I decided to dig into Enquirer, and this is what I discovered. Generoso Paul Pope Jr., pictured above with Mann’s photograph, acquired the Enquirer in 1952 for $75,000. Oh, and another thing. Pope worked for the CIA’s psychological warfare unit in 1950. But that’s probably none of my business. More specifically, Pope had ties to Mussolini. We’re furthermore told that he left the CIA, having already abandoned fascist Italy to work for the CIA, to start the National Enquirer with a loan from mob boss Frank Costello. Do me a favor, read that last line again and tell me if that makes any sense. There’s a headline for you. “Guy abandons fascism for the CIA and then leaves the CIA to take a loan from the mafia.” Our official narrative is one big brain fart. Satire. Speaking of which, Pope’s work as a spook incredible journalism expanded to Weekly World News in 1979. Over the following two decades, there would seemingly be no end to the ELVIS IS ALIVE headlines.
Elvis drives a big rig and goes by the name Bubba King. Elvis drinks milkshakes at Bob’s Big Boy at 2am, because there’s no other time in the day when he can go anywhere in his jump-suit without getting jumped. Elvis tells Lisa Marie: “Divorce Michael.” Elvis breaks leg in motorcycle crash. Elvis dead at 58. Elvis’ twin brother still alive! (EDIT: take a mental note of the twin.) Psychic gets in touch with aliens and learns that Elvis is safely vacationing on Planet Zlurgroin, having aged only ten hours, via Einsteinium equations, whereas decades have gone by in Earth time.
You only know about Elvis sightings because spooks like Pope have been writing the columns. They’ve been gas-lighting you. “He’s alive and you’re being lied to by your government” but “you’re probably psychologically imbalanced for putting any mind to it,” because only mortals and trailer trash who can’t deal with the tragic end of god-men think like that.
But as I was saying, I did some digging on Generoso Paul Pope Jr., the Enquirer guy. Turns out, Roy Cohn was Pope’s closest childhood friend. Small world. If you’re not familiar with Roy Cohn, then you should be. Cohn was Donald Trump’s mentor and infamous fix-it man. The above picture is Cohn with a baby-faced Trump, who is clearly being groomed into the very secret societies from which he rules the world today. Cohn and Pope however were far more than childhood friends. Pope’s father, Generoso Pope Sr., acted as a mentor to Cohn.
It was Cohn who wrote of Pope Sr., “…Gene’s father had more to do with my incipient political career than any other single person.”
Pause and think about that. Cohn became a household name for his persecution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, soviet spies, and later as Chief Counsel to Senator McCarthy during the televised communist scare of 1954. None of this would be possible without Pope Sr. The fact that Cohn would defend the mafia in later years, as well as the CIA side-project, Studio 54, and even help to push his protege towards the American presidency (that is, after getting Reagan elected) should tell you everything you need to know about Pope Jr.’s ties to Mussolini, the CIA, the mafia, journalism, and cutting edge satire. It’s all satire. We’re only given the illusion of choice. We can pick and choose our side of the narrative, and we can take an eraser to the dots, but in the end, they’re all connected.
The National Enquirer was sold to a Cohen.
You might be wondering why I’ve included pictures of two American presidents, Kennedy and Carter. We are back on the subject of Elvis Presley again, and as it turns out, the King is related somewhat directly to a couple of American presidents. Before telling you which of the two, I just wanted you to see Kennedy and Carter side-by-side. Consider their physical similarities and then contrast their popularity among democrats. The first ushered in Camelot while the second took a wrecking ball to the illusion. And they look… so similar. That is all for now.
Of the two, Elvis is only directly related to Jimmy Carter. They’re sixth-cousins once removed through Presley’s sixth great-grandfather, Valentine Pressler. But he’s also directly related to another American president, and that would be Abraham Lincoln. They have a common ancestor in a certain Isaiah Harrison, who migrated to America and then died in Virginia in 1738. You can find him on WikiTree here. I keep using the choice words directly related, because as we all hopefully know by now, all American presidents derive from the same family tree. And Lincoln’s assassination, as we hopefully all know by now, was another psycho-dramatic exercise and a hoax.
When Presley died, President Carter, his sixth-cousin once removed, told the nation: “Elvis Presley’s death deprives our country of a part of itself.”
Spooks. They’re all related.
Encore: The Emergence of Bob Joyce
“When the old man is dead, you don’t dig up something that’s dead. You leave it buried.”Bob Joyce
BOB JOYCE is a recent newcomer to the world stage. As the pastor of Household of Faith in Benton, Arkansas, he’s 85 years-old, and only arrived sometime in 2011. The earliest video I can find derives from the “JOHN COOK bobjoyceorg” YouTube channel, and is dated to April 3, 2011. The content provider, whom I can only presume is Cook, and who appears to be exclusively linked to Bob Joyce, joined on June 24, 2008. Right away you might be telling yourself Langley held off until the last possible minute on this one. I mean, what if the King had died in 2010? Need I remind you that we only know about Joyce because the spook communities are making it painfully obvious to us. They’re practically screaming at us, BOB JOYCE IS ELVIS! Meaning, had Joyce died a decade or two earlier, say 1999, they likely still had two decades worth of a posthumous psyop to unravel. What has Elvis Presley been up to for 35 years prior to Bob Joyce’s arrival? We are not told.
Just so we’re clear, I am convinced Bob Joyce is the one and only Elvis Presley. There have been many potential Elvis’, thanks in great part to Generoso Paul Pope Jr., but none like Bob Joyce. He looks like Elvis. He talks like Elvis. He sings like Elvis. He sings songs sung by Elvis. He postures himself like Elvis while doing it. He’s obsessed with Elvis. Same ears. Same teeth. Same fingers. Same veins. Same chicken pox scars. Same shoe size. Notice the blood wound on the same place in his hand, pictured above. And he’s also determined to convince you that he’s not Elvis. Though on closer inspection, he may or may not be convinced himself.
I’ve poured through his sermons, and I’m certainly not the only one. YouTube channels like “Elvis is Bob Joyce,” and I suggest you visit it, are devoted to them.
Consider the following quips:
“I’m not going to concern myself with what I was and what I had before. Forget about Elvis. I want to see Jesus.”
“I used to move with my legs a lot, but now I just move with my arms and shoulders. I’m getting too old to move my legs, amen?”
“The old man must die, so that the new man must live.”
His sermons are obsessed with transformation; new life; new identity; a third person change of clothes; caterpillar becoming the butterfly. Although personal comparisons are made of himself and Elvis, Joyce often talks about himself in the third person.
“After seeing Jesus, immediately he left his money… all the people standing in line… He left his life behind.”
And then there’s this one. First person.
“I gave Him my life. He’s not going to take anything less than that. I gave Him my house. I gave Him my car. I gave Him my family. I gave Him my money. I have Him my land. I gave Him my cattle. I gave Him my dog and my cat. I gave Him everything I’ve got.”
If you’re trying to tell me Bob Joyce was simply trying to escape his life as the King and needed a clean break, then showing up 200 miles down the road from Graceland seems like a strange way of showing it. The above video was pulled from the “Elvis is Bob Joyce” YouTube channel. It’s titled: “Bob Joyce At Home – Graceland,” and there’s a couple of things worthy of your notice. Bob Joyce isn’t simply hanging around Graceland; he’s given the royal treatment. Sure, they’ll clear out Stonehenge for President Barack Obama (Stonehenge is another hoax, by the way. Stonehenge.), but asking Graceland to close down for a private experience with a small time pastor from Arkansas is unlikely by any stretch of the imagination.
Here’s what it all comes down to. If I held off on publishing this paper (serious writers block), it’s only because I’ve been asking myself the following question.
Does Bob Joyce know he’s Elvis?
Either Bob Joyce denies being Elvis and he’s a terrible liar or he’s simply a split psyche and hasn’t a clue. All he can do is be obsessed with Elvis and act precisely as Elvis would while his handlers play along. A handful of the people clapping their hands and shouting Amen! in his audience are probably in on it. I’m also convinced that Langley wants me to take the bait. I only know about Bob Joyce because spooks dangle the King like a juicy carrot.
Perhaps there’s a third option.
Not all of Elvis died on the morning of August 16, 1977 and a small voice within his subconscious remembers.
Or perhaps this is all just another dream psyop within a dream psyop. You tell me.
Post Script: He Had a Twin
HOW MANY of you know that Elvis had a twin brother?
On January 8, 1935, Elvis Aron Presley was born only 35 minutes after his identical counterpart. Jesse Garon Presley was stillborn. That’s what they tell us, at any rate. Those who are familiar with the life and career of Elvis Presley will undoubtedly recall the double image—two Elvis’ on the same screen; twice the King for the price of one admission—plays a part in his legacy. Kissin’ Cousins. You can think of it like this. Making Presley’s twin brother a groundskeeper on Graceland is precisely what their handlers would do.
Noel