Warning – Don’t read this true account if you’re squemish.
Popa-Bear took a flattened out soda-can pop-top, stuck it deep into my vagina, pressed down hard with his thumb, and dragged it out with his other hand’s finger, and sliced my vagina from deep inside all the way to my rectum.
He is referred to as Popa-Bear on SC’s show the nation. Popa-Bear is the man who runs the airwaves on at least three television stations, CNN, Fox, and now CBS. This is the man who makes up lies and broadcasts them as news. Many Americans think of him as a god, who can do no wrong and they believe him when he says he’s trying to the expose the injustice of the Democratic Party and any other television station that tries to broadcast the truth as the news. Dick Cheney chuckled when he told me Popa-Bear was the craziest SOB he knows, and Cheney thought Popa-Bear was so delusional he may even believe some of the lies he tells. We all laughed. Of course Cheney used Popa-Bear’s real name; but I won’t here because the post would be erased before it hit the blog.
When the original x-rated short video, ‘The Dream’ (the short sex ‘Art film’ with the big splash in it) was sent out to cult members there was a renewed interest in having sex with me. (Again, I was drugged to think it was a dream and didn’t know anyone was filming it.) At the time only those in Satanic cults were privy to the film. Rita got so many calls that she decided she would hold a rape ritual using me as a sacrifice. In the Conversation in 2003 Rita said she got a bigger turnout than when they use a virgin and she made thousands of dollars that night.
As my memory returns I can remember that night. I remember some discussion as to who would go first and the man who it was decided would go first was John Alexander because he had done so much for the cult. (In the muddled conversation John and I had 2012 he told me it was him. In our conversation in 2012, John told me he considered that sex since he had never had sex with anyone and if he had had sex with anyone he would want that person to be me because he felt I was the only one good enough for him. That’s what he told me. Frightening and odd but true. For any cult members reading this – Rape is not sex! That’s what the Satanic Church teaches, that rape is the same as sex. Women cry rape because a man is forceably putting his penis in them. It’s an act of violence, not love. Since I was tied down, drugged and naked, spread eagle on a table, and there was a line of roughly 80 men waiting to put their penises in me, I would consider that rape.) Popa-Bear was allowed to be second. My husband was third.
Popa-Bear is the prince of his own Satanic Church. He was born into an intergenerational Satanic Church but was not in direct succession to become prince and was overlooked even though he had committed more than the requisite number of murders and rapes. Popa-Bear felt it should be the person with the most evil heart who should become prince. (As an aside, Peter Mickelsen became prince of his Satanic cult for that reason, he was much more evil than Rita’s brother so she had her brother killed and had Peter named prince.) Because of Popa-Bear’s direct influence on world views, and his money and his power, his cult became more respected than Rita’s Church and so he was second in line at the rape ritual. Popa-Bear didn’t like the movie ‘The Dream.’ He insisted women were not supposed like sex and therefore I was an abomination so he wanted to fix it so that I wouldn’t like sex so he gave me, what he thought was Female Genital Mutilation (FGM.) Since Google is part of the cult I would imagine that there are pictures of what he did to me on Google images – FGM. Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) is practiced worldwide by any organized religion that has its roots in Satanism. It is performed as torture and is meant to make women so afraid of sex that they will not have sex, or if they do, they won’t feel anything.
The cult had already developed a fabric that can be seen through from one side and can’t be seen through from another. I had a bag placed over my head so that I couldn’t see through the bag, but the men on line could see me well enough to know that it was me.
When Popa-Bear came up for his turn I could hear the soda-can tab in the palm of his hand because he tapped it on his palm when he went to pick it up with his left hand. I could feel him put it in my vagina, press it down and drag it back out. I could hear the allumium tab hit the ground when he tossed it under the table I was on. Then he stuck his penis in the hole that he had just made and thrust it in as hard as he could as many times as he could while I screamed, “He cut me, he cut me, it hurts! He’s hurting me!” Rita, who was moderating the rape ritual, looked over to see a bloody mess, blood squirting out each time Popa-Bear thrust his penis in me harder. He was saying, “I want this to hurt! You c__t! You wh__e! I want this to hurt!”
Rita shouted for him to stop and when he didn’t she had other men grab him and pull him aside, to which he said, “She’s such a slob, look at her; I wouldn’t be able to come in that disgusting mess anyway. She’s a pig! She bleeds like a stuffed pig!”
“You cut me. You cut me!” I screamed.
“Search him for a knife.” Rita commanded.
Popa-Bear took a step back and chuckled, he opened his arms out by his sides and extended his fingers, “Search me,” he laughed because he was naked.
“Check the floor,” Rita commanded.
“There’s just this,” someone bent down to get the bloody pop-top. It had been hammered out flat and the edges had been filed to razor sharpness.
“That’s it! That’s what he used,” I told them.
“What is it,” many of them asked, since it was covered with blood.
“It’s a pop-top from a soda-can,” I told them.
Someone began wiping the blood off the pop-top and cut himself. Rita asked to see it.
I said, “See? It’s a pop-top from a soda-can, that’s what he cut me with.”
“That’s impossible,” Popa-Bear insisted, “I cut her with my penis. That’s all I have on me. You could never prove that. How does she know it’s a pop-top anyway? How does she know what’s going on? I thought she was drugged?”
“I heard it in the palm of your hand. I heard it as you put it in your other hand. I felt it as you put it inside me. I felt it as you pressed it down with your thumb. I felt it as you cut me. And I heard it when you threw it on the floor underneath me.”
“She can see. She must be able to see. No one can hear things like that.” Popa-Bear refuted.
“I can’t see anything – I heard it. Just as I hear you admitting it now.” I told him.
I heard Popa-Bear tell them that I was bleeding like a stuffed pig because that’s what I was – a pig. I heard Rita tell them to get him out. “Get me out? Me? I’ll have you killed if you try it.” They knew of the thousands of people he’s had killed, so he was allowed to stay.
John Alexander said we have to stop the bleeding. Someone had already placed a bucket on the floor to catch my blood. (The human body only holds a little more than a gallon of blood and I had bled out at least two pints already.) A few people voiced concern that I would die. Poppa-Bear thought that was a great idea, that would stop me from enjoying sex. He wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore, so he ordered my death. A few people said this is a rape ritual not a sacrifice ritual and they overrode Popa-Bear’s request. So John went to work stopping the bleeding with handfuls of styptic powder and then began sewing me up.
I remember the many men on line complaining that they paid to rape me, and this guy, meaning Popa-Bear, stopped all their fun. They wanted a refund and Rita reminded them that it was their dues that they were paying and they would have another chance to rape me once I was healed, and they complained again and most of the men reminded each other that they would be paid up and next month only have to pay for another month. John Alexander said it would take more than a month for this to heal. They asked Peter how long it took for my episiotomies to heal and he didn’t know because he said he didn’t have to pay attention to that because all he had to do was rape me to have sex with me. (What Peter would do is in the morning or in the night when I was sleeping, he’d press my head facedown in the pillow until I passed out and then he would rape me.) So they asked other women how long, and the answer was six weeks to two months. John said it would be at least two months since this was much worse than an episiotomy, so they set another date for another rape ritual in mid-October, two and a half months from that night.
Most of the men who were only there for the rape ritual, left. As John Alexander was busy sewing me up, Popa-Bear explained how he was trying to do FGM on me. They had a name for that ritual, too, and it was explained to him that this was a rape ritual not an FGM ritual. (All organized religions have a different name for the FGM ritual.) He said someone had to do it because according to their Bible women are not supposed to enjoy sex, they were not supposed to have sex at all. For whatever reason, possibly because he just knew what Popa-Bear had done was not FGM, John explained to Popa-Bear that what he had done was not FGM. John explained that the clitoris was cut off for that ritual. Neither Rita nor any of the women still present, nor any of the men knew where the clitoris was. Popa-Bear said he didn’t know since he had never had sex with a woman, “Oh, rape rituals, sure, but never sex,” he said. I could tell by the murmurs in the crowd that they were surprised to hear that. Later, in 2012, I found out that Popa-Bear only likes sex with twelve-year-old boys, and usually, that’s rape as well. He had also raped John Alexander, and other men who John knew about, but didn’t want to share that information with me. When I asked John why he didn’t charge Popa-Bear with rape, he said he couldn’t. I corrected him by saying he didn’t feel he could, but, in fact, he could. He would’ve been killed he told me, and the lawyer would have been killed and the allegation would have been swept under the rug and everyone would forget about it because Popa-Bear is held in such high esteem no one would believe it anyway. At any rate, once the stitches were done, and that area was numb, they had to wake me up enough to tell them where the clitoris was. I told them a woman has to be aroused in order for them to see it. So John coaxed my clitoris out and cut it off and sewed me up again. Then Popa-Bear was satisfied.
I KNOW THIS because one the drugs used on me is the one that can put people in comas. Things that are said and done around people in comas are comprehended and retained as memories. The memories surface later. My memory of that night was erased except for the memory to not have sex for two months. I know this because Popa-Bear talked about his place in line, while he was on line, while he was raping me, after he raped me and while I was being sewn up. And like everyone else in this country I KNOW HIS VOICE.
When Peter got me home he put me in bed and he rolled me over, pressed my head into my pillow, and proceeded to rape me. The pain was so great it woke me up and I screamed, “You stabbed me!” Peter said, “It wasn’t me. I didn’t get my turn. I just wanted my turn! I’m not the one who stabbed you!”
I was bleeding profusely so I got up to call 911 and Peter hit me in the head and knocked me out. I came to as John was finishing sewing me back up. He hypnotized me and told me not to remember this and not to have sex for two months: and he told Peter that went for him, too. Peter complained saying he wanted his turn and asked if he could take his turn now. John said in two months Peter could take as many turns as he wanted, but not until then.
TWO MONTHS later Peter and I had sex for our anniversary and Peter tried to bite the skin that once held my clitoris off. The memory of that wasn’t erased so I began to devise a many step plan to get a divorce.