Let me tell you about where I went:

I was in this otherworldly city, decked out in neon skyscrapers fronting the open ocean. It was dry and warm, late in the afternoon there into night, overcast skies. My first memory there was at a convenience store, similar to a massive, Japanese 7-11, on the city side of a boulevard fronting a massive beach that stretched out for miles, as far as the eye can see.

I was looking around at all the stuff for sale. Wines, cheeses, cured salmon and meats, fruits, breads, cigars, the works. In the perspective I was in, I felt at home in this place, but there was obviously a bit of a splice with some spin on my mind here, the setup for the play of a lucid dream, as I had this feeling in my mind that this is a dream. Bangkok was on my mind, just as this guy's memories, sense of self, were. I got a bunch of stuff, even a disposable beach blanket, all the stuff you'd get if you were looking to chill at the beach for a few hours with your thoughts and listen to the waves, sausages, two bottles of wine, from a winery titled "Foundling Haven", plastic cups, and more. Paying at the checkout is when I noticed the local currency in my pocket, papyrus notes in high denominations depicting some mix of old world and new world architecture, no faces, but lots of esoteric symbology. Still with home, or what I'd call home, from the vantage point of writing this, at this point, I knew I was in a very unfamiliar place... Except it wasn't.

This wasn't something like Japan. The language was my own, not just English, but my own English; the people talked in my way. Their faces looked not unlike how mine does, at least moreso than anywhere I'd ever (remembered having) been. It was definitely not a facsimile to anything in this world; the mannerisms of the people there gave that away, not to mention the architecture, that I'd take in when crossing the street, from the other side, looking about the place—this place almost felt like something out of an anime.

Anyway, not long after getting the stuff, I had settled down on the beach. My blanket turned to face both the skyline and the sea; the tip of some, miles-away peninsula, still covered in buildings and bright, colorful lights as far as the eye can see. I was looking out at the completely flat horizon (this thought immediately came to my mind), almost wondering, knowing that I'm in a dream, if I should explore the city more, but I decided against it, I just wanted to feel this moment.

Eventually though, I let the wine do the talking, when I went over to approach another person, sitting not far from me on the large, almost deserted beach (after all, it was twilight by then). I asked her if she wanted to share a glass of wine with me, she said sure, and came over to my makeshift blanket. Eventually, the conversation came to what I was really curious about, what this place was, and who these people were; I pretended I was a starry-eyed tourist without really saying so, as to not elicit dumbfoundedness.

I was told bluntly that nobody here has any ancestors, that the world is largely thought to be only a couple hundred years old, made in ruins by God as a place for some stories, then built up and populated with children grown out of cabbages in great fields all across its flat, stationary surface (by inheritors, per the orders of demons who feed on misery). Nations designated like a wicked kid's sandbox, fake histories taught to the universally enslaved orphans—learning lies in asylums through made-up tongues, Oliver Twist figures riding trains in steerage, and all that; beautiful ruins blown up, replaced with glass boxes. The woman also said that her people, these people, perhaps my people too, "the people of the sun" or perhaps "the people of the son" were the only serious designation, among the bullshit nations including theirs, turned rebellious under the firmament; that's how such notions are common knowledge there, but not everywhere in this world I had a foray into experiencing. This five-sensory moving painting around me, like home, but on another world, equally as flat as this one.

"Yeah here, people didn't just come on banana boats from far away speaking all kinds of stupid, mutually unintelligible languages, then start fucking one another, pumping out sprog, eight, nine to a bitch, only to go on thinking they live on a ball, voting, and worshiping money as a false god; no way, that's not our story, that shit is revolting", she said to me; scripted to perfection, so to speak, I thought. It was at that point that I realized I was truly at home, in this dark city; at least, I was with my own people who knew it. My joy quickly turned to dismay as I woke up, here I was, back in an equally dark city, but one where I was far more a stranger, but not a "stranger".

Previously I have made a post regarding an old version of a propaganda manual Jewish miltias use called: "Luntz Report Global Language Dictionary The Israel Project 2009"

It was archived on Archive.org

Guess what happened to it? It disappeared.

So in short, they heard us all into using Archive.org which is controlled by them so they can easily delete the important stuff they want expunged or altered. Any alternative can't compete because Archive.org gets all the money. Archive.org is their tool.

BTW this is the manual they really wanted to disappear: https://www.transcend.org/tms/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/sf-israel-projects-2009-global-language-dictionary.pdf Please try to spread it far and wide to teach Jewish militias they can't make things disappear.

Edit: Just to be more clear. The website is more or less working but what I mean by scam is that you shouldn't really trust it or trust that your links are safe there. They are most certainly not. If you care about something save it on your drive as well.