THE BLACKFILE

"TM"

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

[Last updated: 06.27.2012]

Bob Levin  BobLevin.writer@gmail.com  www.BobLevin.org
Former U.S. Intelligence Professional and Blackops Whistleblower standing for the Human Beings

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Robert Dov Levin "Bob", 11918 SE Division Street, Ste 293, Portland, Oregon 97266-1037

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The Jewish Holocaust never ended. It returned to its eugenics roots in America under "Operation Paperclip" along with 1500 Na zi SS war criminals to become the CIA MK-ULTRA Program, the "Manhattan Project" of mind control and "brainwashing" employing involuntary human test animals within the tentacles of 250 black subprojects. The resulting harm sired the four principle components comprising the CIA Torture Paradigm and the erosive formulas for covert and overt acts of PsyOps terrorism and "no touch" invisible physical torture that remains sanctioned against specific and randomly targeted individuals. This matrix for systematic systemic genocide and negat ive eugenics is self-perpetuates by these ongoing black projects that migrate beneath the clandestine mud of evolutionary change to shed their outer shells like Chesapeake Bay bluecrabs to emerge later as newer versions of the same godless atrocities while leaving behind the empty places of their past existences like riddles trapped in mysteries and wrapped in enigmas. - Bob Levin

The story of probably the best scuba diving adventure in my life - Today I was going to edge the lawn, but the sky started raining on my shaved head enough to put it off until later. So back at the machine and passing time surfing cool pictures, suddenly some scuba diving memories surfaced. At age 13 I started scuba diving with not commercially available used SEAL Team gear gifted to me and a few weeks later swam into my first bloated dead body with an eye missing and a blue crab eating the other one; hence the reason why they call the crab's guts the dead man. Blue crabs can swim and usually the first things eaten on a body by crabs are the face and genitals. Didn't know shit from shoeshine about the physics of scuba diving or the compression tables back then, but would dive to a depth where I could still stand the col d and pull the reverse rod on the bottle when I sucked the last breath of air from the main supply. In 76 I was certified for advanced open water by a Master Chief and one of the first saturation divers in the USN...they still had goatees back then. On my 21st birthday I watched my dive partner's jet-fins go out of sight on the way down the mast of a sunken ship and had a series of equipment failures that caused me to disconnect the auto inflate line to my BC vest, the crotch strap came lose, the BC came up and knocked the regulator out of my mouth and pushed up my mask, which caused water to enter my throat and lock same shut in the vertical. Couldn't inhale or exhale and blackness started coming towards the center like death...time to blow and go, one arm around the BC collar and pulled to pin on the bailout bottle and up-up and anyway on an emergency assent. Eight to ten feet later I tilted forward and began to breathe, but not before embolizing. On the surface air never tasted so good, but I knew I was hurt and felt like two sledgehammers had hit my chest. My partner surfaced and I said push me in and head to the re-compression chamber on the sub-tender. The marine on duty looked at two hulks wearing wetsuits driving to the D&S piers, diver emergency was said and I was in the chamber moments later. Down to 60 feet and the pain went away, a calibration for a three hour decompression, a mask with pure 02, and a metal pitcher of gingerale through the airlock and once again I cheated death. Two hours of observation and a steak dinner with the guys and so ended my 21st birthday adventure. BUT...the story I wanted to share based on the odds of this ever happening to a person in the middle of the ocean and four hours out-of-sight of land and while deep diving to a wreck near the Gulf-Stream, it was hot, 80 ft visibility, flat seas, and a blue sky. On the way out spotted dolphins road the bow on a 65 ft dive boat. I hung over the side and patted the side of the boat while a mother dolphin and her baby came close enough for me to touch them with my fingertips. Further out, large and beautiful blue/silver flying fish soared and twisted though the air while seeming very happy. Upon our arrival on the dive site, I suited up by shooting silicon spray in the coldwater wetsuit to pull it on easier while sweating...often there were jokes about squeezing into a small condom, but the cold water below the thermocline was usually a welcome treat on a hot day and we would pull the compressed wetsuit away from our body and suck-in the cooling water. THE EVENT...I was the first in the water and did a back-flip off the side and swam to the descent line. As I looked back towards the stern, coming towards me twenty feet below was the surreal and awe inspiring image of a massive whale shark flanked by three spotted mantas and assorted sucker fish. I watched until they passed under me with the whale shark tilting its head slightly sideways slightly to take a look back at me - I gave a wave hello to the parade. They continued and I kept watching until they swam out of sight. Then drifting in from the deep blue from my right, came a seven feet long thresher or fox shark with a rust stained chin and cold black eyes. It approached like a curious dog sniffing or maybe

looking for a good scratch, but training took over and I still feel bad for kicking it in the side of the nose with the heel of my fin. The shark looked at me and simply moved its head from side to side to either say shame on you or if that's all you've got then you'll lose. The shark slugged off back into the blue abyss. We dove with a short bottom time given the depth and recovered a pelvis bone with barnacles and starfish that we preserves as a centerpiece and conversation piece for a coffee table, but some months later redeposited it on the wreck fearing it was a grave. When we surfaced a small flotilla of Portuguese Man-Of-Wars were floating slowly along the with short tentacles from being beaten-up in the rough seas on their journey. I remember thinking they looked like inflated psychedelic tacos. Back in the boat and heading in we encountered miles and miles of plate jellyfish, the type with the four leaf clovers at their centers. That's the ending to the story of probably the best dive I've ever experienced in my life.

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