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Someone Wanted Me To Expose Piers Morgan:
Let’s 1st Understand One Thing
You need to understand what Piers Morgan is before you understand what he does. He is not a journalist. He is not an interviewer. He is not even a personality in the way the public understands personality. He is a placement agent for narrative laundering. His career is a single assignment: to sit in the most visible chair available and cleanse dirty assets with the appearance of scrutiny.
So What Exactly Is His Function?
His tactic is simple, and it works because the audience has been trained to mistake volume for courage. He screams at people. He interrupts. He postures as the indefatigable truth-seeker who asks the “tough questions.” But the spectacle is a magic trick. The real questions never get asked. The screaming is the cover for the script. The confrontation is the alibi.
Nobody gets grilled on a Piers Morgan show unless the grilling serves the network’s interests. And when a protected asset like Zelenskyy sits down, the “tough questions” are written by the same people who wrote Zelenskyy’s talking points.
Why?
Because Piers Morgan has been a controlled asset for decades. His career is a latticework of editor positions at major tabloids, television networks, and media properties, each owned by the financial class he claims to oppose. You do not get handed the editorship of an international tabloid at 29 years old because of talent alone. You get it because you are known to be dependable. You will run the stories you are told to run. You will kill the stories you are told to kill. And you will do it with such performative bluster that nobody notices the pattern.
Morgan’s defense of Zelenskyy is not an act of conscience. It is a scheduled perception operation, executed with all the subtlety of a knee on a neck. The rollout is coordinated interviews highlighting Zelenskyy’s “feelings of betrayal,” his “emotional pain” over American politics, his “lonely fight against corruption.” None of it is journalism. It’s an image reconstruction campaign.
Here’s The Tell:
The framework is always emotional, never forensic. A real interviewer following the money would ask about the DTRA documents. About the biolab records. About the former Ukrainian prosecutor fired for investigating corruption in the energy sector. About the cargo manifests moving through Odesa. About the offshore accounts and shell companies linked to Kyiv’s political class. About the disappearance of billions in Western “aid” into private hands.
A real journalist would ask about the adrenochrome logistics, trafficking corridors, and organ brokerage networks that allegedly moved through Ukrainian territory for years.
Piers Morgan asks none of it. Instead, he asks about feelings. He asks about betrayal. He lets Zelenskyy weep on camera or perform the appearance of it because emotional theater is the smoke screen. The audience responds to the crying, not the cargo.
The performative vulnerability distracts from the forensic reality. And Piers knows what he’s doing. He has spent thirty years learning which emotional buttons to push to keep a conversation from ever becoming dangerous.
What did the London media do during the Epstein disclosures?
They ran the American imports and added nothing. Zero investigative energy on the British side of the network. Zero follow-up on London banking. Zero on properties, tax structures, charity fronts, and art transactions. The British press Morgan’s press treated Epstein as a foreign story with a British prince attached. That omission is not an accident. It’s an editorial decision made by people who knew the trail would lead home.
Morgan’s silence on the British side of the Epstein network is louder than any interruption he’s ever performed on camera. He knows where the bodies are buried metaphorically, and in one case, with a specificity that would make the hair on your neck stand up. The London blackmail economy was built on this kind of shared knowledge: everyone holds everyone’s video, so nobody talks.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
ARIEL 2.0
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Repost from N/a
Signs Of The Times: The 2.0 Anomalies
The Height
The Gait
The Zygomatic Arch
The Weight
The Brow Ridge
Etc.
People nothing is going to be as obvious as physical features that oppose the former facial structure. Barbera Thornhill is a North Carolina-native, Los Angeles business executive, and philanthropist who serves as the U.S. State Department'.
Only If We Are Dealing With Something Nefarious
Thornhill's State Department position gives her cover for regular contact with foreign diplomatic personnel, international organizations, and non-governmental entities that the intelligence community needs to access without flagging standard CIA or DIA channels.
Her Los Angeles business background provides a natural explanation for her travel patterns, communication networks, and professional associations.
Now On To The More Interesting Part
Barbara Thornhill's claimed origin story collapses under basic fieldcraft scrutiny. Her North Carolina roots are a construction, not a memory. The University of North Carolina has no record of her beyond a fabricated alumni entry created in 2017 backdated, seeded into the system to support a cover identity that was being activated.
Multiple sources with access to UNC's internal records confirm the entry lacks the metadata signatures of a genuine graduate record. It was planted.
Her actual origin is not North Carolina. She was recruited out of a different pipeline entirely one that draws from private military contractors, not university alumni associations. Her early career was in logistics and personnel management for a PMC that operated across Africa and the Middle East during the 2000s.
The company she worked for was a cutout for JSOC and CIA joint operations, specializing in moving personnel and materials through channels that couldn't be traced to US government accountability systems.
🔗 NEW OFFICIAL CHANNEL:
t.me/Prolotario_1Real
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⚠️ ARIEL — THE NEXT CHAPTER BEGINS.
The original channel may be gone, but ARIEL is far from over.
We’re building again, moving forward, and preparing what comes next. If you’ve been part of this community, now is the time to reconnect. And if you’re new here, welcome.
🎙 A LIVE SESSION IS COMING SOON.
More updates and details will be shared on the new official channel.
Join us there, stay tuned, and help bring the ARIEL community back together.
🔗 NEW OFFICIAL ARIEL CHANNEL:
t.me/Prolotario_1Real
We’re not starting from nothing. We’re starting again.
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Arizona Is A Prime Hub For Human Trafficking
Police Chief Brian Chapman announced that an internal audit revealed potential misuse of the database by someone within the organization.
City officials stated that an initial review found no evidence that the privacy of any resident or member of the public was compromised.
So Ask Yourself One Thing
Why are the removing an entire system based off a person within the organization but found no evidence of misuse regarding US Citizen privacy?
That Was A Rhetorical Question
The official statement is a glaring contradiction: "Potential misuse by someone within" but "no evidence of public privacy compromised." You don't yank an entire city-wide surveillance grid because one cop looked up his ex-girlfriend's license plate. You yank it because the interconnected cloud network was mapping the Cabal's logistics in real-time, and a local detective almost tripped over a high-value cargo route.
Arizona is Hillary Clinton Playground
Flock’s mesh capability linking HOAs, businesses, and police is the ultimate threat to a decentralized trafficking network. It eliminates the blind spots. If a van moves from a cartel stash house to a private airfield, Flock’s ALPR stitches the entire path together automatically. No human bottleneck, no deleted dashcam footage.
The fix was in. The "internal actor" was likely a compromised asset feeding Flock hit-data to the trafficking network, allowing them to route around the cameras. When internal affairs got too close to the leak, Chapman didn't clean house he burned the house down. Yanking the system restores the blind spots. The cartel gets its corridor back, the local politicians get their kickbacks, and the kids stay in the dark.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
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Arizona Is A Prime Hub For Human Trafficking
Police Chief Brian Chapman announced that an internal audit revealed potential misuse of the database by someone within the organization.
City officials stated that an initial review found no evidence that the privacy of any resident or member of the public was compromised.
So Ask Yourself One Thing
Why are the removing an entire system based off a person within the organization but found no evidence of misuse regarding US Citizen privacy?
That Was A Rhetorical Question
The official statement is a glaring contradiction: "Potential misuse by someone within" but "no evidence of public privacy compromised." You don't yank an entire city-wide surveillance grid because one cop looked up his ex-girlfriend's license plate. You yank it because the interconnected cloud network was mapping the Cabal's logistics in real-time, and a local detective almost tripped over a high-value cargo route.
Arizona is Hillary Clinton Playground
Flock’s mesh capability linking HOAs, businesses, and police is the ultimate threat to a decentralized trafficking network. It eliminates the blind spots. If a van moves from a cartel stash house to a private airfield, Flock’s ALPR stitches the entire path together automatically. No human bottleneck, no deleted dashcam footage.
The fix was in. The "internal actor" was likely a compromised asset feeding Flock hit-data to the trafficking network, allowing them to route around the cameras. When internal affairs got too close to the leak, Chapman didn't clean house he burned the house down. Yanking the system restores the blind spots. The cartel gets its corridor back, the local politicians get their kickbacks, and the kids stay in the dark.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
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Repost from N/a
⚠️ ARIEL IS BACK — OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT ⚠️
My original public channel has been deleted by Telegram.
I believe the removal was an attempt to silence my voice and bury the information I had been sharing. But deleting a channel doesn’t erase the work behind it — and it doesn’t mean the story ends here.
ARIEL IS NOT OVER.
This is my new official public channel. From here, I’ll rebuild what was lost and continue moving forward.
🎙 A LIVE SESSION IS COMING SOON.
I’ll explain what happened, share the information and evidence I have, and address the questions surrounding the removal of my original channel.
If you followed my previous channel, join me here and help bring this community back.
JOIN. SHARE. SPREAD THE WORD.
Forward this post so others can find the new channel too. Every share helps rebuild the community.
One channel is gone. The mission continues.
Welcome back to ARIEL.
🔗 NEW OFFICIAL CHANNEL:
t.me/Prolotario_1Real
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⚠️ IMPORTANT — PLEASE READ AND SHARE
My original public channel has been deleted by Telegram, but I’m continuing on a new official channel.
I’ve published an important announcement there. If you followed my previous channel, please take a moment to read it and help spread the word.
The work continues. Let’s bring the ARIEL community back. 👇
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⚠️ IMPORTANT — PLEASE READ AND SHARE
My original public channel has been deleted by Telegram, but I’m continuing on a new official channel.
I’ve published an important announcement there. If you followed my previous channel, please take a moment to read it and help spread the word.
The work continues. Let’s bring the ARIEL community back. 👇
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These Four Women Are Looking Like Quite The Spectacle Lately
Jenna Ortega
Ariana Grande
Angelina Jolie
Cynthia Erivo
These women are experiencing weight loss that has people questioning their health. And you know the Cabal love their rituals. It is designed to keep vibrations low on this planet. Which are the blood pacts. And This is why many suspect their life force is being given to these rituals which is causing the dramatic weight loss.
This Is Frok An Former Adept At Witchcraft
What I'm seeing in the celebrity weight loss pattern is consistent with long-term nganga feeding contracts. The celebrity doesn't perform the ritual themselves they don't need to. A Tata is contracted, the nganga is established, and the feeding begins. The celebrity experiences the symptoms: wasting, hollowing, chronic fatigue that no medical explanation covers.
This is what I believe is operating behind several of these women. The physical presentation gaunt faces, protruding collarbones, sunken eyes mirrors the wasting described in Palo literature with disturbing precision.
The blood drawn in private sessions and there ARE private sessions, usually during new moon windows feeds the nkisi, which in turn drives the career momentum. But the nkisi is never satisfied. It is structurally insatiable. And the celebrity becomes a long-term feeding source. End Quote.
Ofcourse she had way more to say on this topic. Because Brotha Panic who was a scholar who recently passed broke some of this down during his lectures. But I will cover this more in detail at some point soon.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
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The Werewolf Attack At Yellowstone: From The Perspective Of The Victim
We pulled off the loop road late in the afternoon and took a spur that didn’t even have a proper name on the map. Lodgepole pines closed in on both sides until the sky was just a ragged strip of pale blue. The air already had that high-country bite to it thin, dry, smelling of dust and sun-warmed sap. By the time we found a flat enough patch near a small feeder creek, the sun was sliding behind the ridge and the temperature was dropping fast.
Mike backed the truck in. Jenna and I started on the tent. The usual small talk. Who was cooking. Whether we’d see elk at dusk. Nothing felt off yet. That was the worst part, looking back. How ordinary the first two hours were.
We got the fire going just as the last light died. The flames made a small, nervous circle of orange in a darkness that felt thicker than it should have. Beyond the firelight the trees were just black columns. You couldn’t see ten feet past them. The creek was a thin, constant hiss somewhere to our left. An owl called once, far off. Then the usual night sounds started: insects, a distant rustle, the pop of the fire eating through a knot in the wood.
I remember the exact moment it all stopped.
Not gradually. One second there was the ordinary background noise of a living forest. The next second there was nothing. The insects cut out like someone had thrown a switch. The rustling vanished. Even the creek seemed quieter, like the water itself was trying not to be noticed. The only sounds left were the fire and our own breathing.
Jenna looked at me. I looked at Mike. Nobody spoke. You don’t want to be the first one to say it out loud.
Then we heard the breathing.
It wasn’t close at first. Maybe forty yards. A heavy, wet sound too deep for a deer, too ragged for a bear. Like something with a huge chest was trying to breathe quietly and couldn’t quite manage it. Inhale. A thick, congested pause. Exhale that ended in a short, involuntary grunt. Then a gasp, high and almost human, like whatever it was had too much air and nowhere to put it.
Mike’s hand went to the rifle leaning against his chair. He didn’t pick it up yet. Just rested his fingers on the stock.
The breathing moved. Slow. Circling. Not crashing through brush the way a startled animal would. It was picking its way. Deliberate. Every few steps that same wet gasp.
I could smell it before I saw anything.
Woodsmoke, pine, cold dirt and then something else sliding in underneath. Wet fur. Musk. A faint sour-sweet note, like an animal that had been in the rain for days and hadn’t fully dried. It was strong enough that I tasted it at the back of my throat.
Mike finally clicked on the Maglite.
The beam jumped across trunks, jumped again, then caught two points of light that didn’t belong to any animal I’d ever seen in those mountains.
The eyes were too far apart. Set too high. They didn’t blink. They didn’t dart away from the light the way a coyote’s or a wolf’s would. They just held. Pale, almost amber at the edges, with a dark center that swallowed the beam instead of reflecting it cleanly.
The thing stepped forward into the edge of the light.
Gray fur. Not the clean silver-gray of a timber wolf. This was thicker, coarser, matted in places like it had been sleeping in something damp. The head was the first thing that made my stomach drop. It was wolf-shaped, but oversized too much skull, too much muzzle, the ears set high and slightly too far back. The neck was thick. The chest was broad in a way that looked almost human, like a man’s torso had been stretched and then covered in that heavy gray coat.
Its arms hung wrong.
They were too long. The shoulders sat high, and the forelimbs dropped past where a wolf’s legs should have ended. What should have been paws looked heavier, the fingers (I still don’t have a better word) longer, the nails dark and thick.
It didn’t drop its head or flatten its ears.
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It just stood there on all fours at first, watching us the way you watch something you’re not sure is food or threat or neither.
Then it stood up.
There was no awkward scramble. No moment of unsteadiness. It simply rose. Hind legs straightening, spine unfolding, shoulders rolling back. When it finished it was taller than Mike. Six and a half feet at least. Maybe more. The firelight only reached its lower half; the head and those eyes stayed in the darker space above.
The gasp came again. Closer now. I could see the breath leaving its muzzle in a faint cloud. The sound was wetter up close part growl, part hitch, part something that wanted to be a word and couldn’t quite form.
Jenna’s hand found my wrist. Her fingers were cold and shaking. I could hear her swallowing.
It didn’t come closer. It didn’t retreat. It just watched.
I had the irrational, nauseating thought that it was cataloguing us. Height. Number. Which one of us was armed. Which one of us was smaller.
Mike raised the light a little higher. The beam slid up that barrel chest, across the thick fur at the throat, and stopped on the face. The mouth was closed, but not tightly. I could see the edge of teeth. Not bared. Just… present. Too many of them, too long.
It made another sound. A low grunt that started in its chest and ended in that same short gasp. Then it took one slow step to the side, still upright, and the darkness took most of it again. Only the eyes stayed.
We built the fire up until the heat was uncomfortable on our faces. Nobody suggested getting in the tent. The tent suddenly felt like a paper bag. Mike kept the rifle across his knees. I had mine. Jenna sat between us with her back to the flames so she could see the tree line.
It circled.
You could track it by the breathing and by the occasional snap of a twig that was too heavy for a fox or a raccoon. Twenty minutes, maybe longer. Time got strange. The fire popped and I flinched every time. My mouth was so dry I kept working my tongue against my teeth. I could feel my pulse in my neck, in my hands, behind my eyes.
Every so often the eyes would appear again in a new place along the perimeter. Always at that same height. Always looking in.
It never rushed. It never made the sound an attacking animal makes. That was what got under my skin worse than if it had charged. A charging animal you can understand. This thing was taking its time. Studying the edges of our light. Testing how close it could come before we reacted.
At one point it passed close enough on the uphill side that I heard its feet. Not the light pad of a wolf. A heavier, almost two-beat rhythm, like something that could choose whether to walk on two legs or four and had decided, for the moment, on four. The smell rolled over the camp again wet dog, but underneath it something ranker, older.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the circling stopped.
The breathing faded back into the trees. The ordinary night sounds did not come back. The forest stayed wrong. We sat there until the sky began to pale, none of us willing to be the first to say we should try to sleep.
Dawn in Yellowstone is usually beautiful. That morning it felt like the world was reluctantly turning the lights on.
We were packing the cooler when Mike went still.
“Don’t move,” he said, very quietly.
I followed his gaze up the slope behind camp.
It was sitting in the open.
Not hiding. Not crouched in cover. Sitting on its haunches in a patch of pale grass and scattered deadfall, maybe a hundred yards up, where the first real sunlight was hitting. It was scratching itself. One long arm reaching across that broad chest, claws working through the fur in slow, almost lazy strokes. The motion was so ordinary it made the rest of it worse.
In daylight the size of the head was obscene. The muzzle looked even longer. The ears twitched once, independently. The fur along its back was darker than I’d thought charcoal in the shadow of its own body, fading to that dirty gray on the flanks.
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When it turned its head I saw the chest again: too wide, the muscle underneath the coat shifting in a way that didn’t match any four-legged thing I’d grown up around.
It knew we were looking.
It stopped scratching. Stood. The same smooth unfolding as the night before. Then it dropped back to all fours in one fluid motion that should have looked clumsy and didn’t. Then it stood again. Like a demonstration.
Its mouth opened. Not wide. Just enough. I saw the teeth clearly this time. Yellowish. Long. The gums dark. It wasn’t snarling. The lips pulled back in a controlled, almost careful way, the way a person might show you something they wanted you to remember.
Then it turned and moved up the slope, still visible for another twenty or thirty yards before the trees took it. It didn’t run. It didn’t look back again. It just left, as if it had finished whatever it came to do.
We tore the camp down in silence. I kept expecting to find tracks in the soft dirt near the fire ring. Nothing. No prints. No broken branches at the height that thing’s shoulders had been. No hair caught on bark. The ground looked undisturbed, like the night had never happened.
We didn’t stay for a second night. We didn’t even finish coffee. Jenna sat in the passenger seat with her arms wrapped around herself the whole drive out, staring at the trees like they might still be watching.
I still hear the breathing sometimes. That wet gasp in the dark, close enough that you can feel it in your own chest. And I still see it sitting there in the morning light, scratching, looking at us like we were the strange ones for being afraid.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
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🚩False Flags Inbound: Operative Assessment
When POTUS confirms Iran has activated cells on US soil, he's not warning the public he's forcing the opposition's hand. Activation is expensive. Sleepers burn capital, safe houses, and handler networks the moment they go live. Confirming it publicly does three things at once.
• Freezes the network every Iranian asset now has to assume they're already inside the surveillance perimeter.
• Pre-stages legal justification real-time freeze authority under the new digital rules requires a threat predicate. He just wrote one on national television.
• Splits the Deep State from its Iranian cutouts Langley's old guard and London's finance remnants can weather a congressional hearing. They cannot weather being tied to active Tehran cells probing US financial infrastructure in New York and Chicago.
You don't confirm an activation unless you already have the operational picture names, handlers, safehouses, comms channels. That confirmation means the watch list is fully mapped and the trigger for mass arrests now has its legal predicate.
The Insurrection Act framework and the human trafficking EOs are already on the books, waiting for a domestic national security event to activate. Iran's cells just handed over the justification.
Think About What The Space Force Announced
They are no longer playing defense. They now have offensive weapons.
The announcement of offensive capabilities changes the strategic math completely, and here's the thread nobody's pulling: defensive space assets protect communications. Offensive space assets deny the enemy theirs. Every Cabal contingency plan the offshore data havens, the satellite comms networks, the continuity-of-government escape infrastructure the shadow operators have relied on since 1947 depends on orbital and satellite architecture they assumed could never be touched. That assumption is now dead.
Iran activating sleepers now is a cornered-animal move. Their dollar pipeline through the Baghdad parallel market is days from being cauterized by the redenomination. Their axis patrons just sat down with the US and agreed to let them twist. Activation is what a network does when funding is about to die and the handlers know it burn the assets before they're worthless.
POTUS confirming it publicly means the assets were already doubled. Watch for quiet Federal sweep operations over the next two weeks framed as "counterintelligence activities." That's the machinery engaging.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
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Nightly Reminder
You deserve what you are looking for and it will find you .... This isn't the time to settle for anything less than what you deserve .... Don't let self-doubt convince you to quit ....
If you look back .. you will realise there is a lot you overcame that you thought you won't survive .... You had more strength than you realised ... You are still stronger than your insecurities ... You can go much farther than you feel ... You have done it before .. You can do it again ...
Good Night
Sleep peacefully .. wake up refreshed .. and stay blessed my friends ...
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
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The chaos.
The drama.
The confusion.
Are your cortisol levels back to normal?
Are your blood sugar levels stabilized?
Did you take your antidepressants?
Because some of you have been thrown all over the room.
Did you all not read anything of note that has been posted on this channel?
Did Iraq drop the 3 zeros? No!
Did Iraq finalize their cabinet? No!
Did Iraq open the 2027 budget? No!
Did they release the rate on Forex? No!
Did you exchange your currency at your local bank? No!
So why are you acting as if what you have been seeing in Iraq as the be all & end all of what we are actually in this for?
The Revaluation!
Why are you looking at everything that has occurred as if we have already jumped that final hurdle?
Do you actually think I care about political drama when I got into this investment for monetary results?
You are pulling your hair out over what has always occurred in Iraq when it comes to people losing their s**t because most of them know the gravy train is coming to an end.
None of the people I take seriously are flinching at any shenanigans going on in Iraq. We've all seen this too many times to count.
Here is where the excitement becomes a liability. People hear whispers of new notes, see banks behaving strangely, notice tellers whispering to favored customers, and suddenly every rumor is "confirmation."
There exists a class of people who will declare victory tomorrow morning, then declare it again next Tuesday, then again in six weeks, each time with total conviction, each time with amnesia about the last false alarm.
They are not lying, exactly, they are just prisoners of their own hope, and hope is a terrible analyst. The discipline that separates the informed from the excited is brutally simple: track what is finished, not what is forecast.
Governance finalized, denominations printed and distributed, an international rate actually posted, those are the only milestone markers worth scheduling your emotions around.
Everything you are waiting for comes after what is required of Iraq to post their currency on the Forex.
I am not going to say anything else on this matter until what we know is supposed to occur actual happens. And you already know what that is so please do not ask.
Let Iraq do their job people. They do not need you hovering over their shoulders and breathing down their neck hoping you get a peek at the new rate.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
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🇮🇶 IQD Update: This Is A Nuclear Event For Iraqi Dinar Revaluation
The rollout of the digital Iraqi Dinar across the entire country is not a banking upgrade. It's a tectonic plate shifting. Please understand this one thing people. You cannot revalue a currency when your border revenues are fictional. ASYCUDA makes them real. That's the mechanism.
Iraq just digitized its sovereign currency infrastructure end-to-end. The digital IQD is now live across all provinces. That means every transaction border customs, internal trade, government disbursements, oil settlements can now be tracked, reconciled, and settled on a centralized digital ledger controlled by the Central Bank of Iraq.
Do You Know How Huge This Is?
Ali Falih Alzaidy's confirmation of water, electricity, and SpaceX digital access across Iraq is the infrastructure backbone. You can't run a digital currency system without reliable power and connectivity. The fact that SpaceX satellite internet is providing the redundancy layer tells you this isn't aspirational it's operational. The grid is live. The plumbing works.
Every customs duty is logged, timestamped, and split transparently between Erbil and Baghdad. The revenue hits sovereign accounts, not militia coffers. The IMF and World Bank can verify the books. Foreign investors can trust the numbers. And critically the Central Bank of Iraq now has a defensible, auditable revenue base to justify a currency revaluation.
A lot of people are missing: Iraq just did what the U.S. Federal Reserve has been debating for five years and hasn't done. They digitized the sovereign currency first. That means Iraq is ahead of the United States digital deployment. (Let that sink in.)
The 50-50 split matters because it removes the last political obstacle. The KRG has been fighting Baghdad over budget disputes and border revenue sharing for over a decade. By agreeing to equal split under ASYCUDA, both sides have skin in the game. Neither can sabotage the system without losing their own cut. It's a self-enforcing compliance mechanism built on greed.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
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⚠️ ATTENTION PATRIOTS ⚠️
The old channel has been deleted, but the information, archives and evidence are still being preserved.
A new channel is now PUBLIC, continuing the content about the Deep State, false flags and other information previously shared there.
It will soon become PRIVATE for security reasons, so join while it is still open.
Archive everything. Share this ONLY with those you trust.
The storm is coming. Get ready!
t.me/Ezra_GhostQ
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We Are Going To Demystify The Confusion Around The Zim-Notes Today
One other thing I want to say about the Zimbabwe notes. Bearer instruments are not ordinary currency in the technical sense. A bearer bond, bearer cheque, or bearer note carries an embedded sovereign promise the issuing authority obligates itself to the holder of the instrument, whosoever that holder may be. Demonetization removes the note from active circulation. It does not adjudicate the sovereign obligation underneath.
This is why I tell people to hold them. Because the political climate is changing. And we are moving into a entire new system. These are still solid holdings.
Let Me Tell You Why
The RBZ demonetized the Zimbabwe dollar in 2015, then again carried through a multi-currency framework, and later reintroduced a new Zimbabwe dollar in 2019. At no point during any of these transitions did Zimbabwe file a formal instrument of repudiation with the IMF, the World Bank, or the Bank for International Settlements regarding the bearer obligations embedded in the original note series specifically the 2008 AA series and the 2008-2009 special agro-cheques.
If no international body maintains a registry, then no international body has formally extinguished the obligation either. The note exists in a jurisdictional void not circulating, not adjudicated, not repudiated through any formal multilateral process.
Tell you what since I know this info is a very pressing matter for many. And you want to utilize this and gain a better understanding and maybe even stack more of it.
Don’t miss what’s inside.
👇
ARIEL 2.0
