Michael the Pine Tree
Don Bradley 6-18-26
Michael the Pine Tree's story actually begins in Ojai in December 2019. I had gone to a hardware/nursery store in Ventura and bought one of those living pine trees they sell as an alternative to a dead tree, people buy for Christmas. Not to celebrate Christmas – I don't, not since 2004 – but to get a tiny living pine tree to put in the backyard. So I did and in late January, I planted it outside as soon as it began to get a little warmer, as it did in that year, and christened him Michael. Pic below, March 2020.
Little Michael then did nothing to grow. For months. He just sat there staying the same little guy, but not growing an inch, month after month. So, as summer rolled around, I gave him a blessing. Apparently, that changed everything. Within a week, a dozen branches began to launch skyward, that even others noticed it. The unhappy little pine tree became a vibrant, living force on that decaying, rotten fence. Pic below July 4th, 2020.
Okay then. A happy camper, an American expression. Michael continued his upward and outward growth and quickly grew to several feet tall and in girth, equally. Then we had “the talk.” I advised Michael that if he grew too big, and blocked any of the neighbor's views, they would bitch to the owner of the rental I was in and insist it be taken down. Can't have a second, living and powerful tree presence on the lot like Obadiah had become for like reasons. Satanists hate that. They are in love with death and dying and all things in decay. His key to survival was to stay in height below the fence. Be vibrant, yes, any and all you want to be, but if you get over the fence height, you now know it will cost you your life. My neighbors are all satanists and witches. ALL OF THEM. Like in Tehachapi.
In point of fact, within a few weeks of my moving out in January of 2023, both Michael and Obadiah had been cut down. Within 3 weeks of my moving. I know this because I met the owner, at the Ojai house, and we did a walk through after my moving. I couldn't believe that right off, they killed those two beautiful trees. But they hate anything that is blessed, especially. It's a living reminder every time they look upon such things of our Almighty YHVH above. Whom they hate, because the demons and satan hate Him. What could I say? I didn't own the land, I just rented it. Poor people don't own anything, other than used yard sale furniture, used old cars and trucks, and 30 year old tshirts and pants. I'm describing myself. In fact, they demo'd the house, plowed up the gardens and lawn I had maintained and on google maps, you can see the place is one vast dirt lot. Today. It's ugly. The place of beauty, life, joy, rose and three gardens I had spent a decade carefully crafting into place was erased by bulldozers and chain saws. Michael and Obadiah were the first things to go, a some days after I moved out. See what I have to deal with and to this very day?
Pic below – Michael in 2 years, November 2022. He deliberately kept his height below the fence line, as advised. You can see his happy face in the middle left of the tree.
Okay, that's the background. Michael number 1 and his demise. No more Michael or Obadiah.
So, in early October 2022, I am evicted. Not for payment of rent, I was always on time, usually. I was late 2 times over 9+ years and only a couple of days. No. They wanted me out and they figured for occult reasons, now was the time to kick him to the curb. Add to it, Ed and I were really laying into their dark empire as a team starting in May/June. Poop.
I understand. I had seen the Ojai house from above and it had become a fiery column extending into Heaven and lit up the whole area. The satanists of Ojai were shouting to get rid of me. They tried this 3 months after I moved there in 2013, then 3 people died, right off. It took them 9 years to attempt it again, and used a device I had agreed to when I signed the lease. Me being stuck way out in the Mojave desert was a dream come true for the witches of California. Now, the freak can annoy the desert and who gives a shite?
Apparently they do. Because the gangstalking harassment is worst I've ever experienced, and that's saying a lot. I've had more kill attempts here in the last 3 years than the previous 30 years combined. Even today, June 18 2026, going into Bakersfield, a coven car/gang stalker tried to push me into a line of Semi Big Rig tucks (the 80 ton jobs) at 73MPH. I had the fry him to get psycho off. I was box surveilled going down the mountain and the same back up, and the SUV cop car had the words INTEL on the side. This is my daily life, whenever I leave home. They are already at destination, keep me under drone and vehicle (mainly for the psyop, they don't need to actually do that. I am tracked everywhere.) And being at home only means they bring it here. It never ends. It just gets tedious. Then I get to work. Then they wonder why I lay into them. And the whole cycle repeats.
So, off I go to the outskirts of Tehachapi, a half hour drive beyond the town itself, to the edge of civilization. Where I obviously belong, don't you know. I tried to stay in Ventura or anywhere within an hour of the ocean. No dice. Every rental was instantly a NO to me. No exceptions. The only positive reply to an application was in the Mojave desert, far, far away from the covens and their little baby murdering way of life. And ever since I moved in here, they have done everything in their power to make my life here a big, weekly F you, pain in the ass.
So, on to Michael number 2.
So, as it happens, a get a positive reply from Mojave house owners; a coven, CIA safe house (as was the Ojai house) they use to park people who need a quick place to stay for a week or a year. These kind of places are all I am ever allowed to rent, since the 1990s. That way, the place is already prewired for audio and video surveillance, inside and out, the ground is sour, because only witches and killers ever use the place. Like that. In fact, on my first visit here, in November 2022, the very first thing I noticed was two things.
One, there was no sound. No birds, no bugs, no sound of anything. I had experienced this before, hundreds of times, at forest and desert coven ritual spots. A spiritual dead zone that eats sound. A friend I had brought up in the 2 months before I moved in and my son Matt, both noticed it without me having to say anything. Once a dead zone is cleared and sealed in YHVH's or Yeshua's name, the sounds and birds and life slowly returns. This would have to be done here, after I moved in. This was the shit hole I was going to be allowed to live in, far and away from friends and family, just me, Gracie, and Tink.
Two, everything was dead or near dead. The grass was dead, even with rains of that year. The trees were so desiccated and lifeless as to be a marvel. The front door had not one but two dead birds right at the door. Except for the driveway Cypress trees, which were struggling to stay alive. And then we get to the pine tree by the road. To all appearances, already dead. All the branches were pointing to the ground, most of the needles gone, and it had kind of collapsed in an inward way upon itself. It was heart breaking to see. I wish I had taken a picture of it, at that time. I walked up to this pine tree and put my hands on him, gave a full house blessing with all the trimmings, and gave him a name. Michael. In honor of the soon to be gone Michael in Ojai; I knew even then that they intended to kill him and Obadiah. Both pine trees were named after an angel that has looked after me, from time to time. Or one of his guys.
Pic below, Obadiah November 2022. He was given that name by son Randy in 2013.
I didn't dare fix up the property, spiritually wise, because the owners were staying in the house for 2 months prior to my move in – the endless runaround – so that the various CIA crews could update all the surveillance packages and they could fix the broken doors that would not close. You see, that house is a marriage killer...or was. The first few nights I spent there, I tuned in to the events of the last several years there and saw how much blasphemy and evil went down at the place. For most of 2023 I simply referred to the house as the Mortuary. The morgue. I cannot say more than that because I know where the bodies are buried and that's one rabbit hole I'm not going to bother about. I literally moved to hell and all the witches around were smiling at how doofus don is stuck in the kill house. Ha ha ha. My first 3 nights there and outside were huge black bears and dozens of tarantulas the size of big soup bowls, everywhere you looked. You didn't dare go outside for any reason. What was waiting for you was ugly and evil and the witches weren't content with me living in a evil shit hole; they sent owls, spiders, and beasts to pounce on me. All of this would descend upon the morgue the moment the sun set. After the first few days, and being certain the owners were done “fixing up the place”, I got straight to work. Sealed the whole place, cast out all the demons, broke and spells, hexes, and curses, and on and on. Driving out the spirits of the dead as well as those trapped there by deeds done long ago. It took a bit of time but by the end of the first week, the place was CLEAR.
That is where Dad put me, he showed me the house in early November one afternoon after I asked. When I came across it, my heart sank. I'm being sent to a coven house where very bad things go down. Being honest as I must be, my first take was “Why? Why have you forsaken me so?” I so very much understand the Psalms and King David(Daud). My heart was broken, sent to live at the Morgue. In a cursed, dead zone house, where very, very bad things went down and for a very, very long time. The ground was so very soured, that all life was quitting the place, bushes, trees, birds, all of it. “Tell me my sin, that I may correct it and atone. But here?”
I had, for 3 months before moving in, resented the fact I had to go there. Hated it in fact. I didn't see that the owners had ripped out the AC, the gas appliances, and everything. Putting in its place all electric and expensive to run and didn't cook very well crap in its place. I found the AC unit, in the back shed, doing no one no good. It is what it is.
Pic below Joshua, nearly dead. Like all the other trees on the lot. The cypress trees are hanging in there, best they can.
But this story is about Michael the Pine Tree, and it is felt that the backstory of the place would help you understand how Mike was in such a near death state, when I first met him. By the time I moved in, he was triple his size, fully green, and dropped all his old branches and grew new ones, IN 3 MONTH'S TIME.
Michael these days. Mister Vibrant.
Sad to report, since Michael's amazing recovery and new presence, the county, the Edison electric people, and various other assets the CIA calls upon, have tried several times a year to cut dear Michael down. Yeah. Out of spite. The bs reason? He's too near power lines . Which is total BS. He's at closest 12 feet from the pole. While the power lines down the street have trees right next to the pole with leaves and branches among the poles and wires. Same street. When I point that out to them, “oh that's not a threat.” Really? But Mike is? 12 feet away?
And I told Mike, get no nearer to the pole, because they are INVENTING excuses to kill him. So, he knows. It's the same story every month. Crews show up to “clear the pole” and only come to my place, never any of the others. Not the one across the street with a cypress right up against the power pole. Nor the oak tree on the house right below me with branches 2 feet from the wires. No those places are fine and never messed with. But me? All the time.
This is gangstalking harassment. Simple as. But the threat is real, so I stand my ground and deny them permission, which they need to cut it, because mike is NOT A THREAT. So, they need to and keep running this con on me that he is.
One of the many happy features of being a Targeted Individual and for more than 3 decades. However, this is one tiger that has teeth. Which I have to remind them of constantly by example. Like today, the guy trying to get me to wreck in a line of big rig trucks. He didn't care that he would be involved in the crash too – “I want to die for satan, give him to me” kind of thing – they all have this death wish. Once I suss that out, I'm happy to oblige. Here's something to speed you on your way down below, chief. The guy today immediately hit his brakes, waited for the line of trucks to pass on our right, and he shot across four lanes to the nearest exit at high speed. The danger had passed, Dad left it to me to deal with. As He often does. You remember those events in 2 Kings about Eliyahu (Elijah nowadays) taking out the kings men, fifty at a time, when an angel with a sword, was at his elbow? Read up on it. Why give it to me, when one of Mike's guys could deal with them? To reveal a thing. About Eliyahu, for that time and this time.
And yet, still they come at me, murder in their heart and eyes. So be it.
I didn't smoke the guy today, but he got singed. I hear he has sworn revenge. Like I said, so be it. Amazing...they never take responsibility for initiating the event that got him burnt a tad. They never take responsibility for their actions, but will project every wrong upon YOU.
Michael, the amazing wonderful pine tree to the south. And a good friend who says much about what goes on when I am not at home.
Pic below is Michael his eyes circled above and below, he put my name among his branches somehow. DoN. Anyways.
