Bohemian Grove

Richard Nixon (who was a member): "...it is the most faggy goddamn thing you could ever imagine."

From presidents to senators to the captains of industry, the elite are obsessed with the occult. For over 120 years in Sonoma County, Northern California, near Monte Rio, on a 2700 acre redwood grove, world leaders, heads of industry, 2700 members have traveled there to engage in bizarre, ancient, Canaanite, Luciferian, Babylonian, mystery religion rituals. In these rituals they worship Moloch, an 40 ft wooden owl in the famous ceremony "The Cremation of Care." This all for two weeks in July for a "summer, fire festival" by the Bohemian Club. To have world leaders engaging in this ridiculous ritual worship (the so-called mock human sacrifice as part of this ritual), a mostly naked, homosexual romp among powerful men, the Republican elite, including some Democrats, is hard to make much sense of without seeing it within the context of the history of the world's elite as far back as ancient Rome, ancient Egypt and probably before.

The Bohemian Club was founded in 1873 in San Francisco by artists, businessmen and politicians who wanted a place to practice their "Druid rituals" in secret, away from what they considered the backwardness of the Judeo-Christian public mindset that was prevalent in the region at the time. The so-called "Druid rituals" were actually based in Babylonian ceremonies from ancient times.

By 1900 there was a ten to 15 year waiting list. Members included presidents from Howard Taft to Herbert Hoover. Later Dwight Eisenhower was also a member. The membership eventually included Harry Truman, Ronald Reagan, Richard Nixon, George Bush, Sr., Jr., Bill Clinton, Alan Greenspan, Henry Kissinger, William F Buckley, Jr. and many others. Helmut Schmidt, former German chancellor, in his memoirs, went into extensive discussion of the secret establishment running the world to include CFR, the Trilateral Commission and the Bilderberg Group. He spoke of the Bohemian Grove as being among the "most astounding places [he] had ever visited in the US" and how that feeling increased over the years. He talked about hanging out at the Grove with Nelson and David Rockefeller and conversations on steering the fate of the world. He said much of what was discussed there was the corporate-government infrastructure that governs the world.

Richard Nixon said in the Watergate tapes, "The Bohemian Grove, that I attend from time to time--the Easterners and the others come there--but it is the most faggy goddamn thing you could ever imagine, that San Francisco crowd that goes in there, it's just terrible! I mean, I won't shake hands with anybody from San Francisco." Nixon was a member of the club since 1953.

After a feast and sundown, an evening ritual "The Cremation of Care" is performed before a wooden Moloch (the Jewish deity to whom children were sacrificed in ancient times) where an effigy of a baby or small child is burned as a sacrifice. "Je Suis La Fille" is written on a sign with a child skull on it. Men in black and brown robes arrive on a carriage carrying a bound body (presumably of a baby or child). The music of Scottish bagpipes fills the air, if in fact one can call it music, followed by violins. The Bohemian Club cheers and claps to the sacrifice; whether real or enacted, it is unclear.

Then a robed actor on the stage cries out, "The Owl is in His leafy temple. Let all within the Grove be reverent before Him. Lift up your heads, oh ye trees and be ye lifted up ye everlasting spires, for behold: here is Bohemia's shrine and holy are the pillars of this house." Talk about some god awful writing, whoever wrote this tripe.

A gong sounds. "Weaving spiders come not here." The torchbearers in KKK-style cloaks proceed to the alter.

"Hail Bohemians, with the ripple of waters, the song of birds, such music as inspires the sinking soul, do we invite you to Midsummer's joy. The sky above us is blue and sewn with stars. The forest floor is heaped with fragrant grit. The evening's cool kiss is yours. The campfires glow. The birth of rosy fingered dawn. Shake off your sorrows with the city's dust and cast to the winds the cares of life. But memories bring back the well-loved names of gallant friends who knew and loved this grove, dear boon companions of long ago.

"Aye! Let them join us in this ritual! And not a place be empty in our midst. And all his battles to hold in this gray autumn of the world or in the springtime of your heart. Attend our tale. Gather ye forest folk and cast your spell over these mortals! Touch their world-blind eyes with carrion. Open their eyes to fancy. Follow the memories of yesterday and seal the gates of sorrow. It is a dream and yet, not all a dream. Dull Care in all of his works harbored it.

"As vanished Babylon and goodly Tyre, so shall they also vanish. But the wilding rose blows on the broken battlements of Tyre. And moss rends the stones of Babylon. For beauty is eternal and we bow to beauty everlasting. For lasting happiness, we turn to one alone as she surrounds you now. Great Nature, refuge of the weary heart. And only found Her breasts that had been bruised.

"She has cool hands for every fevered brow and dreadful silence for the troubled soul. Her councils are most wise. She healeth well having such ministries as calm and sleep. She is ever faithful. Other friends may fail but seek ye Her in any quiet place smiling. She will rise and give to you Her kiss. So must ye come as children. Little children that believe don't ever doubt her beauty or her faith, nor deem Her tenderness can change or die."

Cue music. And like a bad 1950's sci-fi horror film, the ceremony progresses. "Bohemians and priests, the desperate call of heavy hearts is answered. By the power of your fellowship Dull Care is slain!" Cheering pours in from the crowd.

"His body has been brought yonder to our funeral pyre to the joyous pipings of a funeral march. Our funeral pyre awaits the corpse of care!"

More music, lights dim. A procession of robes with torches marches further in to center stage. Mild laughter emerges from the crowd in parts. A boatman, face painted like a skull, arrives bringing the body up across the water. Music resembling a weaker form of the soundtrack from Bambi carries on.

"Oh, Thou," the dire monologue continues, "Thus ferried across the shadowy tide in all the ancient majesty of death. Dull Care, ardent enemy of beauty, not for Thee the forgiveness of the restful grave. Fire shall have its will of Thee and all the winds make merry with Thy dust! Bring fire!"

More robed morons charge the stage with torches. There is screaming, an explosion and a voice exclaims: "Fools! Fools! Fools! When will ye learn that me ye cannot slay? Year after year ye burn me in this grove lifting your puny shouts of triumph to the stars when again ye turn your faces to the marketplace. Do ye not find me waiting, as of old? Fools! Fools! Fools--to dream ye conquer care!" (This evidently the voice of Satan in this silly pageant.)

The other voice from before chimes in with his two cents, "Say thou mocking spirit, it is not all a dream. We know thou waiteth for us, when this our sylvan holiday has ended. We shall meet Thee and fight Thee as of old and some of us prevail against Thee and some Thou shalt destroy. But this too we know, year after year within this happy grove our fellowship bans Thee for a space.

He jabbers on, "Thine malevolence which would pursue us here has lost its power under these friendly trees. So shall we burn Thee once again this night and with the flames that eat Thine effigy, we shall read the sign Midsummer sets us free!"

The angered spirit replies, "Ye shall burn me once again?"

Screaming follows, then laughter. "Not with these flames," says the spirit, "which hither ye have brought from regions where I reign. Ye fools and priests, I spit upon your fire."

A firework flies down to the fire from one of the trees. Cheers and clapping resume.

"Oh Owl! Prince of all mortal wisdom. Owl of Bohemia we beseech Thee. Grant us Thy council."

More Disney type music with singing, "No fire, no fire, no fire, unless it be kindled in the world where care is nourished on the the hates of men and drive Him from this grove." Very operatic singing, but of course this is not Mozart. Rather more like Day's of Our Lives, if it had scenes of opera.

"One flame alone must light this fire," (repeat line, then:) "A pure, eternal flame." And then after a few repetitions of that line: "At last, within the lamp of fellowship upon the alter of Bohemia."

Main narrator: "Oh, great Owl of Bohemia we thank Thee for Thy adoration!"

Some repetition of some earlier lines about Midsummer granting freedom and fireworks explode round the periphery of the lake.

They call out to the female and male sides of Satan in Moloch worship mixed with Scottish masonic rites is essentially what goes down at the grotesquely campy and overtly homosexual meeting. Care equals conscience in the context used here. It is obvious that this club (which is a natural extension of the Trilateral Commission, CFR, and the Bilderberg Group) has a single agenda of one world government or a "New World Order," based on the reports about it in the press and books, the members who attend, and translations of the rituals involved.

With the destruction the current president has administered to the American national identity one can imagine the chanting at the grove in summers of late: "Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama," as they worship their devil-god, Lucifer-Satan.

More on this cult meeting to come.