Human or Alien – who can you trust?

As I have said before I have been a UFO/ Paranormal researcher for 50 years. In those 50 years I had encountered some pretty scary stuff, including my experience with a few alien and Cryptid beings. But here we are in a world where the human condition is getting worse very much by the minute.

Wow, presidential politics is at an all-time low, number of wars around the world around the world at an all-time –high, strange new emerging diseases, man driven climate change, and out of control human population growth. The wealth gaps between groups and between countries, is the greatest in the last 100 years. Now very recently something I warned about 10 years ago is coming true, our reliance on the Internet could drive us to a Mad Max scenario. Human hackers could shut the world down and it could be any minute. Not to mention madmen with their fingers on the nukes. It’s a sad state of affairs for our species.

Now what about the Aliens and the Cryptids, both groups if they truly wanted to could end our existence in a quick minute. I believe the Cryptids – such as Sasquatch and Dogman just want to be left alone. The aliens say the Pleadians and the Greys have an agenda for sure, but with us humans especially our leaders and wannabee leaders, generally being extremely distrustful and sick for power, and with no consideration for human life, looking at Alien group is a viable option. I believe it is time to seriously engage these alien groups we have been fearful of. For man is driving itself down a very dark path, a path of no return.

The question is, what would we have to give up to save our species? They have been abducting people for a very long time and the question is, is their agenda going down a brighter path for the human race? We have to continue our quest to make real serious contact with these beings and look at all options if we want to survive the next 100 years because the cards truly stacked against us.

Sleep tight – mediate , mediate and carefully open up, step forward to meet the Ones who have the ability and power to save our species and maybe we are worthy of their trust, at least the ones among us that care.

Mike Wiz

My Life Manifesto — Sandy Penny

SandyPennyMy Life Manifesto
by Sandy Penny, 2-2-2015

I never wanted to compete with others, only with myself. Even as a child, I wanted to create cooperation, not competition. Growing up with nine brothers and sisters was competition enough. I wanted to learn something new every day, and I have. I have always strived to be better at the things I choose to do, to improve processes, to innovate, to organize. I have always endeavored to leave a job better than I found it. I subscribed to the old adage, if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well. I intend each day to ask myself if I’m living from love or fear, and to always choose love.

I hope, when I leave this world, that I have had a positive impact on those I’ve known, and that I have done as little harm as is humanly possible. I intend, every day, as Ghandi advised, to be the love I want to see in the world, to treat others with kindness, compassion and respect. I intend to leave every person with whom I interact feeling better than when we met, without attachment and expectations. If one person has been helped by me, if I have lifted anyone’s suffering, made anyone smile, then I have lived a life worth living. And, for myself, I want only to be the highest and best expression my soul intends for my earthly life, knowing that when I leave this world, I feel complete with each and every sacred relationship I forged, and every relationship is sacred.

I commit to using and fulfilling the purpose of each chakra, each energy center within me, to express the colors of the rainbow that is me. I open myself to the golden connection that is my crown chakra, that I may bring more spirit into matter. I connect with the source of all light and open my inner and outer vision that I may see myself, others, my life, and the world clearly and through the love that manifests all creation. I connect with the source of all words and align my voice with the voice of love and joy. I align my mind with the universal consciousness that I may raise my thoughts to higher realms and transcend all negativity of the human consciousness, that I may think in more creative ways, that I may inspire higher thinking through all that I touch, that I may express right thought, right speech and right action for each and every situation I encounter, that I may share wisdom when needed. I clarify and align my feelings and emotions with unconditional love that I may create sacred partnerships throughout my life, knowing that all relationships are sacred and deserve love and compassion. I align and restore my physical body to the perfection in which it was created that I may walk this earth, strong and healthy, and follow my own path on my own journey of spirit flowing into matter and matter returning to spirit, a conduit of love, light, joy and completion.

As I awoke this morning, these thoughts were running through me, and I wanted to write them down, to remind myself that this is my life creed, and that I intend to live it fully, and I am. I am a spark of infinite love emanating from the unlimited stream of love divine. I am a bubbling spring of joy and wisdom to quench the thirst of all who drink it in. As I intend, so shall it be, for intention inspires action, and action creates and manifests. I am creator, manifestor and the artist of my own life.

Divine love, through me, blesses and multiplies all the good I am, all the good I have, and all the good I share. And so it is, and I am grateful.

Posted by Sandy Penny at 12:32 PM

Todd Michael Visits The NM UFO/ Paranormal Forum – Is it all True Series #273

Interdimensional_worlds_500Todd

This March the Forum here in Albuquerque hosted a wonderful speaker named Todd Michael. Personally, I feel he did some of the best tying together of the worlds of UFOs, paranormal, and the human race. He had an interesting style of presentation–comforting and peaceful, and his talk resonated with me and many others.

In 2005, Todd had a spiritual awakening that started as a homeless vision quest in Malibu, CA, when he had no money and just a car to sleep in. He began having conversations and relationships with other beings. His encounters became encounters of the close kind. These were life-changing experiences. Todd developed his 8 senses – 4 more than most people believe exists. He developed the ability to shift-shape. He has become an amazing manifester. He believes you have to ask to receive and that includes alien contact. According to Todd, there are many of them out there that want to meet us. There were times when he had 3 to 5 visits per week.

Todd talked about breaking the patterns of our present life to experience a different happier world. Along with that, he spoke of the year 2016, which he said was going to be a year of great profound change. Todd discussed his experiences with a great Bigfoot researcher named Kewaunee. He talked about how a Bigfoot touched him through his tent on Kewaunee’s property in Washington. Then there was the Ancient One encounter he witnessed, the most unique Bigfoot–like being.

Todd demonstrated something quite special that he has never had a bad experience with any of the non-human beings. And finally his story about when he shape-shifted into a whale to help rescue the two stranded whales in Sacramento River in California tugged at your heart.

Sleep Tight – From Todd – (Use with caution): So-Lin-so-La-Ra –say three times with LOVE and they will come.
MWiz.

The Al Bielek Meeting and the Jump Room– Is it all True Series #270

About 5 years ago, I was sitting in the living room across from a guy named Al Bielek. Yes, the Al Bielek, the guy they call the “walking encyclopedia”. And he was that. Al and his stepbrother, Duncan Cameron, were part of the Philadelphia Experiment and the even stranger reality called the Montauk Project. Al would answer any question under the sun and stars, including but limited to, is there or was there life on Mars. Well that question, which I did ask, started us on the journey through and around the world of Jump Rooms.

At that point I had never heard of Jump Rooms, thought it was just crazy talk. But Al was very convincing that the US Military had obtained the technology from off of a crashed alien ship. Our government had reversed engineered the room; it was a room that looked more like an elevator. And like an elevator it took you from point A to point B, but A to B was across million of miles in the matter of minutes. He explained the probes we sent in the past to Mars were sent just to set up a Jump Room on Mars as you need one on both ends of the transport. The US had been working on the project for over 70 years, since any reverse engineering project is a slow tedious process. Also rumored is that some of the original work was done with the help of the Nazis who would come ashore from their subs at Montauk Point and enter Camp Hero.

Camp hero also housed the famous time machine that Al Bielek’s stepbrother Duncan would travel in, so the story goes. One of the most amazing things Al said about the Jump Rooms was that human mind- consciousness ended up being the power behind the Jump Rooms, and the structures called Jump Rooms were places to sort of mediate your way through space. Al also said something like Jump Rooms were targeting locations to send and receive the conscious impulse. Wow—crazy talk (?)

Sleep Tight, your mind will and can transport you; it is a powerful vehicle.
MWiz.

Why Personal Contact is Right for 2013 – Is it all True Series # 267

This is our year, 2013, to make our personal contact with some group of interdimensional beings. It’s our year because the earth as we know it is changing rapidly before our eyes and the vast majority doesn’t realize what they see. The future will change in every way. As I have said in past postings the horse is out of the barn with the rest of the animals and the barn just burned to the ground. The bottom line is there is no fixing our climate disaster, we can only prepare.

Once you personally come to grips with that concept, (and please do your own research) you will be ready to make contact. In reality, fear is the only thing that keeps from making contact with these beings.
So if you can come to peace with our not-so-happy future, which probably includes total or near extinction of the human race by or before 2100, then and only then will you be ready for your personal contact with them. You will be at peace and fearless and accepting of what is to come.

I believe they (non humans) have known for many years that man would finally destroy himself, through all the vices humans had at their disposal. I also believe the beings probably could have forced us to stop our destruction several hundred years ago, but earth is a big classroom; we’re here to try to learn how to peacefully co-exist with them and the vehicle we ride through space. As we will all realize shortly, we all failed the class. But the hope will be that we take from this failure some wisdom and on our next adventure, get a little closer to the truth, and do a lot better on New Earth.

If you sit in fearless peace they will come; they are not like angels or demons. They are nothing we have ever perceived. They have always been in our minds and our hearts, waiting for this day. And our lack of fear will allow us to pass into their world, until our New Earth is ready for our return.

Sleep tight – dream hard, the challenges going forward will be great, but our ending / new beginning will be bright.
MWiz

I didn't know him – but he was worth knowing— Steve Job's sister and her eulogy to him — There is a Connection— .

A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs
By MONA SIMPSON from the New York Times

I grew up as an only child, with a single mother. Because we were poor and because I knew my father had emigrated from Syria, I imagined he looked like Omar Sharif. I hoped he would be rich and kind and would come into our lives (and our not yet furnished apartment) and help us. Later, after I’d met my father, I tried to believe he’d changed his number and left no forwarding address because he was an idealistic revolutionary, plotting a new world for the Arab people.
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Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.

By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.

When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.

We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.

I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.

I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.

Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.

I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.

Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.

That’s incredibly simple, but true.

He was the opposite of absent-minded.

He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.

When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.

He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.

Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.

For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.

He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.

His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”

Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.

He was willing to be misunderstood.

Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.
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Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”

I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”

When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.

None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.

His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.

Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With just the right, recently snipped, herb.

Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.

When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”

When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.

They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.

This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.

And he did.

Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.

Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.

Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?

He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.

With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.

He treasured happiness.Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.
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Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.

Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.

I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.

Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.

“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.

He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.

I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.

Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.

One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.

I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.

He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”

Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.

For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.

By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.

None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.

We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.

I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.

What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.

Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.

He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”

“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”

When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.

Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.

Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.

His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.

This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.

He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.

Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.

He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.

This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.

He seemed to be climbing.

But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.

Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.

Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.

Steve’s final words were:

OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.

Inter-Cranial Communication – did it do our Roswell Being in? –Is it all true series # 199

I must first give credit for the title of this piece to my friend, Hank Worbetz, and his recent book, “Reflections of a UFO Investigator.” Of course the Roswell story had a million beginnings and endings and a huge diverse middle. No story has ever had more crazy and amazing theories.

So one of the stories goes that the one entity that survived the crash didn’t survive the human encounter. And here is the story in brief. An army interrogation team was assigned to work on the Alien and get as much intel as possible. But one problem was that this alien didn’t communicate in a verbal manner. He was a telepath and a powerful glamourer (like in the Vampire stories). The security guards noticed the being bending their psyches when they were within a short distance. As Hank said in his book, the interrogators were infected by the powerful cognitive contagion that was making the intel team subservient to the agenda of the entity. And remember the surviving entity probably knew full well we had shot them down with a new radar beam weapon.

So the entity’s agenda was probably not a good one towards us. Still we had murdered some of his buddies. I know I am thinking and talking like a human and these Grey types are far from human. So at the very least he/she/it wasn’t happy to have its journey interrupted. Hank goes further to say our interrogators were originally trying to get intel on their Antarctic Base. Well the intel team didn’t get the goods on the down under base. But sadly the people on the interrogation team were scarred forever. Which is the same reaction that abductees have being close to an Alien being; it changes you forever. But I am not sure it’s for good or bad. But I fully believe time will tell as some event could trigger these Experiencers into some kind of action.

Well the story ends with the military security guards killing the being. It’s remains are probably at Wright–Patterson AFB in a big jar, for the pleasure of a select few military personnel to see. And I many years ago talked to someone who saw the jar.

Sleep Tight – for tomorrow there will be another story/theory about Roswell, but remember dead alien beings tell no stories

MWiz

Our Cherished Worldview and Why It Holds Us Back- Is It all True Series #186

It holds us back from being, that is, being the new human. A primarily right-brained being, a gentler, questioning being, a being capable of massive amounts of love. Just the amount of unconditional love from one of these new humans will counter 1,000 negative beings of the old model type. So if my math is correct, we need only about seven million of these new humans to change the other 7 billion people that inhabit the earth. So this means one tenth of 1% of the world population can change it all.

I believe the timeframe for this change will be less than 6 months. Our cherished worldview will be shattered. The reign of human tyranny will end. Human beings will finally understand that working with the natural world is the only way we will survive. Just truly recognizing that fact will forever change us. Our report card will be graded on how many species of living things are not dying off.

The catalyst of this new being will be the appearance of our far future self. This will trigger a chain reaction in our inner mind, the reaction is just waiting for the signal and it is coming sooner than most think. The precursor may be symbols, tuning us for the change such as 1111 and powerful visuals such as Crop Circles.

And please don’t think of our future selves as a God or Gods, even though we can do it all; we are all creators. The New Human will harness the total force of the quantum field and use it to shape and form everything around him. The New human being will regain their past place in the Galactic Community – as the kind ones with the full emotional bodies. The tide of Human transformation is upon us. Take a very deep breath and mentally prepare for the journey. Our present worldview is the chains that keep us from being who we were meant to be – a fearless living creature whose only purpose is to create unconditional LOVE.

Sleep Tight, with no fear our new self is nearly here.

MWiz

Have Humans Been Created From a Future Us? Is it all True Series #185

There is a reason why the inter-dimensional beings will save us in the end. This reason is complex. First, we provide an unlimited pool of emotional energy, which they love to bathe in. We are unlike 99% of all beings that exist in our galaxy. I believe there are a few thousand planets nearly identical to ours. But in the scheme of things and the pure math, we are truly a minority species type. So that alone makes us a bit special.

There was a time, in the very distant past, millions and millions of years ago, when our type of planets existed. But for the most part we destroyed ourselves. Yes, there probably were some major natural disasters that took some of the planets down, asteroids, comet collisions, star radiation and polar shifts. Nothing much humans could do, and the higher non-human intelligent beings believed in a hands-off policy.

But this hands-off policy changed, and I am not sure yet why. About one million years ago (a nice round number) someone in the universe said the humans must be saved.
For they are our past and we cannot ignore their historic importance. So if you get it, we are them from their past. We live in their old third-dimensional realm, their realm of their past. So about 350 thousand years ago, we were placed first on Mars, but it only took 100 thousand years for humans to destroy that planet, so our creator modified this other planet, which we call Earth and some of the remaining humans were bought from Mars. So modern man has been around here for about 250 thousand years. We were doing all right except something went terribly wrong the last 200 years, (another posting to explain that).

So how will they save us? Well, through a massive re-education program, or as I like to call it –cosmic mind control or mind alternation . We are becoming a different being; so different that in 50 years we will not know ourselves as we were. We will only look back and wonder who were those beings, and where did they go, for they don’t exist anymore, the Neanderthal of our time. The time has come to save ourselves from ourselves with a little help from our future selves.

Sleep Tight – the Earth waits in wonder of the New Human – we will be here– soon.

MWiz.