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Doing Vegas at Fremont Street

see the 8 pointed star, also known as a witches circle. It symbolizes the 8 witches sabbaths that occur every 6 1/2 weeks.
Fremont street in the old west, was the same, then as now. Gambling and soiled doves in the back, rotgut whiskey in the front.
Fremont Street, Las Vegas, NV
by Don Bradley
There is something very, very evil with Fremont Street.
Some will say that it’s just the usual debauchery that is Vegas, no matter where you go on the strip. Others say there is a nuclear accelerator located beneath it, mirroring the one at Stanford University. And yeah, the ongoing construction is not the normal kind you see. Lots of underground stuff being done, covered in huge tents (that’s a first in my experience) so you can’t see what they are building.
Fremont in the 50s, 60s 70s
Back in the day, at night
Of course, Fremont St is the beginning of Vegas from day one over 100 years ago, was the exact location for the James Bond film of the the red mustang fastback chase scene in DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER, 1971, and no matter what hotels or casinos have come and gone, is, was, and will be, considered the center and soul of Vegas. So much so that they have turned the whole place into a vastly covered outdoor area of all the original blocks and streets that is Fremont st, so going into it, or shall I say, stepping onto these several city blocks covered and lined with every vice one can imagine, is like stepping into a bad Jim Morrison acid trip that only gets darker, more demonic, and more freakish with each and every step.

I know this, because, this was mission number 2 for Las Vegas, while I was waiting to get worked on by scalpels and then sown up. I didn’t know this trip was going to include this work, until the night before I was to do it. It’s better that way. Because I tend to let things slip, that are better left unsaid, especially in an era of total surveillance and reverse speech technology.
To understand how the past became the future, one only has to search the internet and read. And there is a great deal of reading, and seeing, to be done. It won’t take long to understand when I and many others will tell you, that the name SIN CITY is well earned and well deserved. Most Americans, over the age of 25 have been to Vegas at some point in their life. It’s very American to do this, like visiting a civil war battlefield, mount Rushmore, or going to Disneyland.
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? Not hardly. The demonic presence at Fremont street in the 21stcentury is overwhelming and staggering, for those who can see, or feel, or are even slightly spiritual on any level. Pickpockets, prostitutes, and every dredge of human misery is proudly flaunted on Fremont street. Secret underground rooms, for the darkest of souls, with the right connections and who can see the visible signs left for them to see, that says, “yes, we have it. You have been in a place like this before. A PIZZA PLACE.” Red slippers, gnomes, spiral staircases, and other signs are all around and in Fremont street.
Satanic Fremont Street circa 2018
There are literal hordes of demonic beings hovering and moving in and among the people who visit, or work, at Fremont street. Only the Holy Spirit can protect a person from their influence, then and forever, should you come to this worst of the worst, public places that never sleeps and never has a time out. It’s around the clock evil, debauchery, and poison.
If you go there and come away from it thinking, what a fun place, we should do that again! Then it’s time to examine your life and life choices. Because NOTHING stays in Vegas. It all follows you home. Especially, if you “like it.”
That being said, here at midnight, I find myself the Friday before my surgery-it had been changed from Thursday to the next monday-in the center of Fremont Street.
I walked around dazed…and ashamed…that so many of us could behave in such a way. I won’t sour this article with any detailed descriptions of that area. There is plenty enough of that on YouTube, help yourself. It won’t take many videos to come up to speed on this place, if you have the stomach for open abominations. In the 70s and early 80s, Fremont street was glass fronted nickel one armed bandit casinos for the working class, those visiting Vegas on the cheap. The mob days. That time was quaint compared to nowadays.
Look at my watch, wow, it’s midnight. And the covens are out in full force, on a Friday night, during the witching hour. You could see these women working the crowds up, getting the tourists “going” by taking their tops of, getting half naked, writhing with the bands that were blaring different eras of rock and roll.
The center wasn’t hard to find. For it appeared foggy and gray, amongst the thousands of demons darting among the several thousand people getting high, openly, getting drunk, and no cops anywhere. Security was unseen, unless someone broke the rules. What these rules might be, I have no idea. Any other town in any other city of any other country and the whole place would have been arrested.
Then I did what I do. When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by a dozen people all staring viciously at me. Such hatred. My…
But, the spell was broken, and they couldn’t get it going again. Even the band I was near to, stopped and looked at each other like “what happened?”
It was then I saw that I would be, for the rest of my night, have a surveillance team on me. Of course, recognizing a tail is easy when you’ve been honing those skills for 3 decades.
I should write more about what I saw in the week I was there, waiting for the operations to take place. Most folks I’ve talked to in life have all told me what a great time they had in Vegas. Really? Doing what, for heaven’s sake?
The hotel I was in did everything they could to ruin meals, make our time there miserable. Because of my health condition, we mostly kept the cleaning lady out and they called the cops on us, who barged into the room to “roust us out.”
Just me and the caregiver. Doing nothing, reading online.
Worst treatment I’ve ever experienced in a hotel of any kind ever in my life. Of course, I knew why. I know who and what owns these joints. And it isn’t the girl scouts. I always pay this price, sometimes worse than other times. This time, they did everything within their legal power to make our ten days there miserable. I was supposed to stay bed ridden for one week, before driving or flying. We left on the 2nd day after the operation. When your food is being done in, its not food, it is poison. We were eating canned soups, most of our time. Something they couldn’t get to or sabotage.
Still, had to be there. For Heaven and for Healing. It was worth it to have both. And many thanks to those that helped both heaven and earth, you made it all possible.