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You will find some conflicting views from some of these authors. You will also find that all the authors are deeply concerned about the future of America. What they write is their own opinion, just as what I write is my own.


Monday, January 20, 2025

International Public Notice: "The" Inauguration

 By Anna Von Reitz

Today, Donald Trump has been "inaugurated". 

We hear this strange word and take it for granted.  We shouldn't. 

The meaning of "inauguration" comes from the Roman Church and involves the "consecration" of a prelate or priest or other officer of the Church in his office.  Any legal meaning or extension of this practice to describe coronations and the entry of corporation Presidents into office, is euphemistic and derived--- but in this case, there is no need to assume a legal or euphemistic meaning. 

Franklin Delano Roosevelt was the most forthcoming of the "Presidents" about the nature of his "inauguration" as "President of the United States" as he directly mentioned its nature as a consecration in his First Inaugural Address --- right along with his mention of clearinghouse certificates. 

The vast majority of Americans have never been told and never understood on their own, that the inauguration of a President of the United States is a private affair and that the addresses that these men make upon their inauguration are aimed at and for the Federal Civil Service --- not the American Public.  

An inauguration, therefore, is an odd blend of public disclosure of a private event, and an opportunity to address the Municipal citizenry that the new President is taking command of. 

We have pointed out the impossibility of Donald Trump's assumption of any office in the defunct United States, Inc., the fraud involved in all the various entities calling themselves "United States", the impossibility of Trump claiming to be President of The United States -- the country, and also the lack of standing of all the British Territorial "Republics" at all levels that have been ginned up by U.S. Citizens.

So what are we to think about the "Inauguration" that has just taken place?  What "United States" is Donald Trump the President of?  Has someone created an unincorporated business calling itself the United States?  If so, who would have the right to do this and use it to promote such a ruse on the Federal Civil Service and the people of this country?  

Maybe, at the end of the day, it was too much to deal with and too tight on the timeline, and someone somewhere just said, "We'll ask forgiveness at a later date." 

Even though forgiveness is not the issue, honesty and lawful operation is the issue.  Building on stone rather than sand is the issue. 

There were other truly funky aspects to this inauguration today, too. 

Donald Trump didn't place his right hand on a Bible as any part of the ceremony.  Nor his left. 

The office of President of the United States is an air jurisdiction office, so it comes replete with elements of magick; a President aligned with Satan takes his Oath with his left hand on the Bible, signifying "the left-hand way"; a President aligned with the Good Lord takes his Oath with his right hand on the Bible, signifying "the right hand way" ---- basically, he chooses to practice Black Magic, or White Magic, but in no case does a "President of the United States" ever take office without reference to the Bible.  

Donald Trump just did.  

Perhaps he is an Atheist, despite his references to God and the Bible, but as all matters of the Air Jurisdiction depend on belief, he would be barred from any traditional or known office of  "President of the United States", if that were so. 

Once again, we are all left adrift in La-La-Land, with the British Territorials trying to pull a fast one, and everyone else in the world left shaking their heads.  What do they think they are doing?  

More fraud just creates more fraud.  

When Hiram Grant renamed himself "Ulysses S Grant" and thereby became "US Grant", referring to the "grant of United States property" he intended to make to the England Company under the False Pretense that he conquered our land in a war that was actually a Mercenary Conflict that our States of the Union didn't even participate in --- he thought nobody would notice.  

Hiram Grant was right about that for a long, long time, but, in the end, we did notice. We caught onto the fraud.  That then exploded everything he did and everything "the England Company" has done with our property ever since. 

Their illegal occupation of our country speaks for itself, and unfortunately, so do Mr. Trump's actions.  He and his bosses at SERCO and Westminster are still weaving and dodging and trying to evade the consequences of their earlier fraud by sponsoring another. 

They could have just talked to us.  They could have been upright and ended the fraud.  They could have sought to redeem their lawful standing as men and laid down their mercenary garb, but they didn't. 

There are other things about this inauguration that certainly ought to give everyone pause to think.  Where were the flags? 

Not a single flag to be seen.

There's a reason for that. 

After the Great Fraud began in earnest with Abraham Lincoln's appointment of a Rump Territorial Congress, the British Territorial U.S. Army was acting as a private mercenary force.  That happened in 1861. 

By the time they came to the Battle of Little Big Horn in 1876, they had been abusing our flag to indulge in unauthorized, non-contractual mercenary conduct for fifteen years. 

The Lakota War Chief took back our battered Title IV Flag captured from General George Armstrong Custer's Seventh Cavalry, and the Lakota kept it, Father to Son, for over a hundred and sixty years, waiting to return it to the rightful owners.  

So we are now in possession of all our flags and our seals, including the much-abused Title IV Flag, and the rest of the world is recognizing what happened to our country and to many other countries in the western world. 

We've been usurped and impersonated by our own employees, who have abused their positions of trust and liberally violated their service contracts under the direction of foreign commercial and municipal interests. 

Our country has been wrongly blamed for the violent crime spree our misinformed and misdirected employees have been on at the behest of the British Governments and the Holy Roman Empire ever since 1861.  

Our only actual contracts with these Principals are well-known and published as The Constitution of the United States of America and The Constitution of the United States, respectively.   Our States have not ratified any Amendments to either contract since the 12th Amendment, with the possible exception of the 13th Amendment abolishing slavery -- which is still being researched. 

Everything after that including the infamous 14th Amendment was all a Do-It-Yourself administrative hack job and fraud upon the American Public.   

Their contracts require them to protect and defend this country, but there is no mention of them having delegated authority to offensively attack any other country.  

As in so many other instances, they gratuitously redefined the meaning of "defend" to include offensive actions far from our shores, and have been on a mercenary crime spree of war racketeering and privateering at our expense ever since. 

Let it stand for the record that our sons and daughters were never told that they were signing up to be foreign mercenaries in the British equivalent of a French Foreign Legion when they agreed to serve in "the United States Military".  

The criminal empire that has been built on our backs is now crumbling.  The truth is severing the bones from the sinews of the Beast, and yet, somehow, Mr. Trump is attempting to keep the lid on all of this?  

If he actually means to do anything good for this country and make it stick, Mr. Trump has to come clean.  He has to come home to the land and soil.  Britain and the Roman Hierarchy need to make amends and make a clean breast of all of this --- and as the actual law requires, return all our assets, unharmed. 

The same is true of all the other countries they've illegally occupied, commandeered, and plundered under False Pretenses.
 
The use of our Title IV Flag for display at private ceremonies transferring administrative control over the Federal Civil Service is not stipulated under any constitutional agreement.  That's why you didn't see any of our flags, Title IV or otherwise, at today's inauguration. 

The arrangement that allows the British Territorial "President" to command the Holy Roman Empire's citizenry staffing the Federal Civil Service, is an extension of the venerable collusion between the Popes and the British Monarchs, assigning the British Crown to act as Overseers of the Commonwealth and Territories. 

This transfer of command functions between two foreign service contractors has nothing to do with us and nothing to do with our service contracts with either one of them, so why should our flags be on display at such an event?  They shouldn't.  For the first time in many, many years, they weren't. 

This absence of flags is, ironically, a good sign.  It signals the slow process of making our Federal Subcontractors come back within the confines of their contracts and honor their good faith service obligations. 

Issued by: 
Anna Maria Riezinger -- Fiduciary
The United States of America
In care of: Box 520994
Big Lake, Alaska 99652

January 20th 2025

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See this article and over 5200 others on Anna's website here: www.annavonreitz.com

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International Public Notice: The Seal of Time

 By Anna Von Reitz

Now you know that time does not exist. 

This has been proven mathematically many times, but each time the mathematicians come forward they are killed or blackmailed or threatened into silence.

Now that you know that "now" is the Alpha and Omega, and know that an immortal seal was placed upon this moment called "now" as a home and inheritance for all of you forever, give thanks. 

Thank the Creator. Love the Creator. Observe the Creation and learn from it.  Love it, but do not worship it.  Be amazed by what you learn and open your heart and ask to learn more. 

Long ago, the Kings of Normandy realized this truth about time—- that only one moment exists. 

That's why it's their seal, the bright Star of Venus, with its five points and it's upward pointing spire, that reminds us of this sacred moment on Earth and in our hearts.  Now is our eternal home. 

The Roman Church has told you to live a good life of endless work and sacrifice; and, wait for your reward in Heaven.  Yet, as there is no time, there is no waiting, either.  It's all here, right now. 

All that stands between you and Heaven right now, is a lie. 

There is no death.  You have never been dead and never will be dead. You need not fear the loss of your physical body, any more than you fear the changing of the seasons.  Those you love are always with you. 

Always.  

The Roman Church has told you to suffer and give and sacrifice everything for God, but God has no need of your sacrifice.  He only tells you your purpose as caretakers of the Earth and of the animals and each other, because acting as caretakers will make you happy and fulfilled. 

That is the divine mission and purpose you were given and you will never be truly happy until you accept its challenges.  Accept this mission and grow, in happiness and fulfillment.  Let your joy fill the Earth. 

So now you know your true purpose and you know that time does not exist. 

You also need to know that you are the true and only value, because you give value to everything else. 

Money, land, houses, yachts, all the bells and whistles of this entire world have no value without you and no value compared to you. 

So how stupid is it, to kill each other as if there was something more to be gained?  We already have it all. 

Just standing here, flat-footed, together, we have it all— and far more than we know. 

It has been said that perfect love casts out all fear.  So let your love be perfect.  Let gratitude cast out anger and selfishness and greed.  

Many of you suffer from feeling alone.  The Evil Ones have done all they could to denigrate our relationships, destroy our marriages, undermine our families, disrupt our communities and overthrow our laws and ethics and government.  Even poison our pets and farm animals. 

They failed. 

Remember that wherever you are, whatever color you are, whatever religion you accept, you are  part of the Family of Man, and you are loved and you always will be. 

You are not alone, though you may languish in the deepest dungeon hole, and even though you walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

The Roman Church has taught men to kill for Christ. 

Yet we all have cause to know that we cannot overcome evil by creating more evil.  Yeshuah, by his words and deeds, has shown us this is true. 

Those who live by the sword not only die by the sword, they give birth to endless wars and grudges and hardening of hearts. 

We can only conquer evil by living with greater love.

In the same way, we can't overcome lies by telling lies ourselves.  Our lives and words must embody truth, so that we discern the lies that lay like so many traps and snares all around us.  

Embrace these truths and let them wash through you, clearing your mind, and cleansing your heart today. 

Let go of the past that has already ceased to exist;  tell your body to forget its injuries and start fresh. 

Every autumn reminds us of how beautiful letting go is, so let go.  Let go of vengeance and regret, pain and anger and fear—- let go of it.  Let go of all self-pity and resentment.  These are the stale emotions of other experiences lingering and spoiling what you could otherwise embrace today, so let these misplaced energies go.  

The past is past; make a bonfire.  

Write down the names of false friends and faithless lovers, bullies and brow-beaters, and bigots, write out the pain of your greatest failures and embarrassments and losses and toss them into the flames. 

That is done and over. 

Let today, this moment, be brand new. Accept the whole gift that is given to you. 

Every spring reminds us of how blessed we are.  So, think of spring. Smell the rain and the Earth.  See the carpet of flowers.  Hear the birds. 

Stand in this perfect moment that is yours forever, with all your loved ones gathered near in heart. 

The Roman Church has taught us to rely upon our minds and not trust our hearts; even the scriptures have been changed, so that we forget the source of miracles. 

So that we stop searching for the Truth. 

So that we waste our lives grinding away like slaves in someone else's nightmare. 

"So oftentimes it happens, that we live our lives in chains, and never even know we have the keys." 

The Roman Church has taught us that we need their intercession, that the sacraments belong to them, yet nothing has ever or will ever stand between us and the Living God who gifted us with consciousness and breath and all else that we need on this journey. 

This day, you have been visited by immortal kings, from age to age the same; the truths that these pages contain, they gained—- and now pass on to you. 

Yeshuah never spoke of any Churches.  He never called himself "Christ".  He never held anyone else to the Law that he fulfilled.  

He came to set you free, yet everywhere we look, the Sons and Daughters, Sisters and Brothers, remain in pain, crippled, put to hard labor, confused, listening to gurus who have nothing to say, drowning their sorrows with drugs and alcohol and every kind of vice and sin, still searching for The Way. 

The Way is in your heart. It's in these words you are reading today.  Awaken! Rise up!  

Our Creator is with us now, to make all things new and fulfill his word—- to bring those who are ruining the Earth to ruin, to bring justice to the unjust, and peace to the rest of us. 

Make it so, in your constant vision. Imagine your own heaven.  Imagine abundance and peace for everyone all over the Earth. 

Make haste, then, to love one another; let your minds dwell on all things that are beautiful and faithful and true.  Smile for your day is dawning.  Wisely husband all that is yours and be grateful for it. Seek no special advantage for yourselves.  

And have no fear. 

Like the American Bison, we plunge straight into the storm and feel no need to outrun it. 

Issued by:
Anna Maria Riezinger — Fiduciary
The United States of America
In care of: Box 520994
Big Lake, Alaska 99652 

January 20th 2025

----------------------------

See this article and over 5200 others on Anna's website here: www.annavonreitz.com

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Wielding the Mop and the Bucket

 By Anna Von Reitz

Obviously, Granna and Mark Twain are of the same opinion; rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. 

I look worn out because at 68 I am working harder than most 30 year-olds ever will.  That's all.  

So let me give you some insight into the Federation.  Most of the senior members are truly senior.  Literally.  At 68, I am among the youngest of the leadership cadre.  Most are at least 80.  Some are over 90.  I'm just a kid to them.  They kindly indulge me. 

Over the last several years, we have developed a much younger Federation crew, who will replace us gradually and naturally.  They are mostly young men between the ages of 30 and 50, and when I had a couple minutes to think about the group as a whole, I suddenly realized that they are mostly veterans, mostly a-political, well-educated, have I.Q.s above 180, cover a range of skills, but when you meet them, they present no conceivable group consciousness or appearance. 

We've got black and we've got white, we've got Asian and Chinese and Hispanic --- and everything in between.  We are the Melting Pot. When they are all milling around together, they look like an odd mix of college students, DEA agents, hobos, mad scientists, bikers, even a couple artists, which pleases Jim no end. 

He has suffered his absence from the arts and crafts scene rather bitterly and enjoys talking shop when he can. 

Still, having these young people involved is a happy kick in our pants and a breath of fresh air and a rush of testosterone for the Oldsters still charged with guiding the Ship of State and keeping it off any reef or shoal that appears in the shallow water we are treading through now.  

As Bubba, one of our more senior Seniors said last week, "We avoid all the same mistakes, we just do it slower now."  He winced.  

The ice storms have left driveways and parking lots encased in thick glass-like ice.  There are no supplies of ice melter sufficient to deal with this.  Ironically, shipments are held up because the ice melter normally routes through Los Angeles, which is still burning. 

Fire and ice, both, thousands of miles apart, but somehow still connected. 

Picture a dozen very elderly chihuahuas on a smooth waxed floor.... very, very slowly and cautiously picking their way forward.... 

You can now picture the Ministers of your Federation going to work. 

Now, picture me with a 25 pound bag of Kosher Salt, left over from pickling season, squinting into the dawnlight, tossing handfuls of the white crystals onto the gleaming sheet ice. 

Sometimes knowing the truth is a very painful thing, without taking any spills on the ice. Several of us have endured both this week, but no broken bones, one sprain, and lots of wounded dignity. 

Even the crime rate is down.  The burglars are slipping and sliding like everyone else. 

Bubba turned up his favorite song, "Pressure" on the stereo.... "It's the terror of knowing what this world is about..."   We all faced that terror to get here.  We all lost some good friends on the way.  

Some candles are lit, we drink our morning coffee in silence before booting up for the day.  

Each one in our own way thinks about why we are here, spending our last golden days like this.  We don't think of ourselves as heroes, but there is something heroic about it all, to see these men and women, most of them from the Vietnam Era, still here for their country. 

With our heating pads and our ice packs, our bruises, our might-have-beens, our moments of regret, and our moments just shaking our heads, but we are still here, nonetheless.  

I walk from one room full of octogenarians into the next room full of forty-somethings and note how the atmosphere changes and how I, being somewhat in the middle of the pack, blend without blending with both groups.  I wonder--- where's my peer group?  Did we all drop out?  

Seems like the 60-70 age group is Missing in Action, but then I realize how many of us have died early, how many inherited grandchildren to raise, and how many of my old friends still seem slightly stupefied, as if they just can't believe how bad the situation really is.  

Our country, and most of the world, has been defrauded.  We've been played by criminals.  Big time. It's different for the Octogenarians; they saw enough graft and violence in their youth to piece it all together and face it.  For them, once they saw the Great Fraud, they knew what to think, jaws set, chins out. 

My own generation is the one suffering the most cognitive dissonance.  Oh, no, this can't be true.  Please, let me bury my head in the sand again.  This is too awful!  What about my 401K?  

Then, strangely, as if they are the next harmonic link, there are the forty-somethings, who, like the Octogenarians, square up, look the 
Great Fraud in the eye, and spit. No need to tell them how corrupt the institutions are.  No need to tell them about politicians. They all understand about Funny Money and the banking cartels. 

It was the forty-somethings that came up with the word "de-banking" to describe the practice of denying individual people and competing businesses access to bank services as a punishment and as a means of crippling their ability to live and thrive apart from the criminal Colossus. 

They understand that this is what happens when private money replaces public money. 

No need to explain it to them, and no tips needed about navigating the ice, either. 

One of them straps on ice cleats used for hiking on glaciers.  The others sit down on my old toboggan sled and get pulled across the treacherous ice, slick as you please, right to the door.    

The forty-somethings have a different way of solving problems: more communal, more creative, and more fun.  

They may lack the wild and sturdy individualism of their grandparents' generation.  One wonders if they will have the courage to "Go Full Chihuahua" and pick their own way across the ice when their time comes, but by then, they may have their own custom-made hoverboards.

The matrix does compensate for us, changing and adjusting as we go.  

"It's minus 23 in Bismarck, North Dakota!"

"Not everything is relative," Bubba chuckles, "but that sounds about average for Bismarck in January." 

Some of us watch "My Lunch Break" over lunch. Others are busy with their personal business, making appointments and phone calls. Some wander into the Open Room, where they can smell fresh flowers and enjoy the green growing plants that oxygenate and clean the air in the office spaces.  

"I thought you were nuts," Bubba tells me confidentially. 

Devote a whole room to plants and candles and water fountains and fish aquariums?   A space devoid of books, papers, computers and file folders?  

"I thought it was a waste of space," he says, as he settles deeper into a large and comfy overstuffed chair.  

He will fall asleep there and someone will have to come rouse him up after lunch. It's not just the candles or the gas fireplace.  It's the  gentle breeze, the warm, humid atmosphere so different from the Arctic winds outside. 

"Damned women," Bubba mumbles, half-asleep with a smile on his face. I shake my head.  I envy his ability to fall asleep for a twenty minute "power nap".  

These elderly men and women are all Aces.  They deserve all the pampering and good food and care we can give. They'd deserve that even if they didn't work an average of sixty hours a week.  

I stop a moment, looking at Bubba, stretched out like a cat in a warm room, softly snoring. I think about his Distinguished Flying Crosses, his herd of rescued horses and his Black Labrador, Snuffy, who will greet him when he gets home.  I think about his wife, Maureen, the daughter of Irish immigrants, who died of stomach cancer four years ago.  His daughter, Tura, will come pick him up at the end of the day, and take him out to dinner, then take him home up a dark and winding mountain road.   

Yes, I love them all, both kith and kin, but it wasn't always that way. 
Bubba and I don't always see eye to eye.  He fought me tooth and claw on the "wasted space" of the Open Room, and that's just one example. His rough-riding go-for-broke attitude was just so uncompromising and tough, there wasn't any room for him as a man, not the least little bit of care for Bubba. 

One day I snuck up from the side and grabbed his elbow, pulling him into the Open Room. He looked startled and followed along, not wanting to make a scene.  I asked him to sit down in what he has since dubbed, "The Chair of Seduction", and I said, "There--- is that so bad?" 

He's a big man, and it's a big overstuffed comfy chair in front of a fireplace, a far cry from all the office chairs we are forever sitting on and the blue light computer screens we are staring at all day long.  He blinked. 

"You work all day long, Bubba.  If everyone else didn't stop, you wouldn't even stop for lunch. When do you do anything --- I mean, anything --- to take care of you?"  He blinked again.

"Do me a favor," I said. "Just sit there and do nothing for five minutes."  

So I walked away and he planted his butt for five minutes.  

The next day, I asked him for ten minutes.  Within a week, he was going to the Open Room all by himself, taking deep drinks from the water fountain, watching the fish, catching a few winks. 

It wasn't silly after all.  It was a little something for Bubba, the man, in the midst of all the work and "pile up".  

I never thought he'd take a foot bath.  Not in a hundred years.  I would have bet on it, but one day, there he was, with one of the people he hardly ever spoke to, a Japanese doctor, deep in conversation. 

And the Doc was expertly, gently, carefully, soaking and massaging Bubba's feet.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I just looked away. 

Another step toward caring for Bubba, the man. 

Lately, Bubba is learning how to massage his dog, learning about Acupressure, and taking more time for himself in the Open Room.  Some days, he stays late and his daughter meets him there and they just rest and relax and talk about life in the indoor garden atmosphere. 

Wasted space? 

Little by little, everyone has learned the gentle, simple restorative power of the Open Room.  The smell of flowers.  The deliciousness of pure water.  The sound of fountains.  The life of the ever-changing aquariums.  The warmth of the fireplace on a cold day. The comforting embrace of an overstuffed chair.  

We have to find the ways and make the spaces to take care of ourselves and each other. Sometimes Bubba just kicks back and stares into space and I wonder if he is thinking deep thoughts or thinking nothing at all.  

Not that it matters to me, either way.  It's his time for himself. 

"So what else can I do for you?" he quips. "I can plant my butt for twenty minutes, if you want." 

"Just don't sprout any flowers," I tell him.  

He'll be ninety years old this summer.