Compelling Evidence of the Incursions of Giants, Their Extraordinary Technology, and IMMINENT RETURN Part #2
By Dr. Thomas R. Horn
As the research included within the upcoming book and documentary film attests, the fact that oversized humans walked the earth in ancient times—some of whom were so large they hardly identify as “human” by comparison—is not at all far-fetched, and we have likewise found proof at times that they were violent cannibals and the ritual of consuming humans was to alter DNA in order to become ‘fit extensions’ for Rephaim incarnation. Though theories of origin range all the way from the corrupt-DNA Nephilim of Genesis 6:4 to systematic human evolution that somehow produced a strand of people who grew to towering dimensions (the latter of these theories conflicts with both science and common sense), history and archaeology simply produce too much witness that giants were existent for us to write them off. The proof is not simply in bodily remains, but also in material possessions that defy use by ancient peoples of regular size, as well as cultural phenomena surrounding them (hieroglyphs, ancient documents, legends, etc.). Add to this the increased intelligence executed in the architectural and agricultural sites of wonder associated with these cultures that completely flouts all we know of the early, nomadic human groups, and we have a recipe for the treasure hunt of the century.
The questions are then presented: Where are these remains, and why are they not displayed for the public? Why aren’t they in a museum somewhere? Wouldn’t the Smithsonian be the perfect place to house these items of interest?
Is it possible that the Smithsonian has cooperated with a cover-up?
First of all, let us not assume that everything the Smithsonian says or features is accurate. It, too, has a disregard for complete, transparent truth.
I did not originally intend to involve much of the following in this entry, as it appears at the onset to be unrelated to the subject of large human bones. I like to be thorough, however, so I did a little fact-checking in order to bare a quick example of the proverbial shrug that the Smithsonian offered when we first pressed for adherence to precision. Quickly, though, this little side-assignment became much more than that.
One visiting the administrative headquarters building known as the “Castle” (the Smithsonian Institution Building, formally) will see the tomb of James Smithson, whose monetary donation to the United States government founded the site despite the fact that Smithson never set foot on North American soil. His epitaph, so beautifully engraved upon the front panel of the tomb, says, “Sacred to the Memory of James Smithson Esq. Fellow of the Royal Society, London, who died at Genoa [Italy] the 26th June 1829, aged 75 years.” However, it is common knowledge that James Smithson was not seventy-five years old when he died. The exact calendar date of his birth is unknown because his mother hid her pregnancy and labored in secret, but we do know for certain that he was born in the year 1765 in Paris, France. This would place him at the age of sixty-three or sixty-four at the oldest, and this updated age-of-death information not only appears on the official Smithsonian Institution Archives website,[i]but also in the book An Account of the Smithsonian Institution: Its Origin, History, Objects, and Achievements[ii]—written by Cyrus Adler, commissioned by the institution itself, and published via its own printing channels. (And this is not to mention the numerous historical sources that confirm this age outside the Smithsonian.) Yet, no correction to the date has been displayed on the tomb.
If the Smithsonian is aware of the date discrepancy of its own founding donor, as its own published materials expose, then is it not an affront to the integrity of the institute as proclaimed reporters of historic fact that the venerated tomb displays that he was seventy-five when he died instead of just displaying his true age to visitors? If we cannot trust the very exhibition of this most celebrated forefather—what some would consider the most important thing on view in the entire museum, as it bespeaks of its very own origin—how many other of the museum’s displays or claims are untrustworthy?
And yes, one might argue that this error is a small concern when compared to concealed giant bones, and that would be correct. Comparatively, this is a very petty thing to be worried about. But bear with me as I canvas what I learned from looking into this. It represents a symptom of a much larger issue. I had senior staff researcher Donna Howell call an information specialist at the Castle building to get a response on this, and her findings were interesting—not because she uncovered a major conspiracy, but because she was given an excellent example of the precise global naïveté that I was hoping to address early on in Cloudeaters.
After being on hold for several minutes over the automated system, a woman named Maryann came on the line. The conversation was a well-anticipated dead end. I knew Donna wouldn’t get much info over the phone, but I had her call nonetheless, because it was the line to the generic title “information specialist,” so I just assumed the one who answered the call might know something about it at least. If nothing else, I was sure we would be redirected to the appropriate department or person equipped to answer. However, a couple of this nice and helpful woman’s responses forced a raised eyebrow:
MARYANN: Information center, this is Maryann, how may I help you?
DONNA HOWELL: Hello, I was curious about the tomb of your founding donor, James Smithson. It’s on display there at the Castle, correct?
MARYANN: Yes, his tomb is here.
DONNA HOWELL: Oh, good. I thought so. We’re working on a project and noticed that the age of death on his tomb was incorrect. Do you know someone I can ask about this?
MARYANN: Um, uh, um. [She stammered for probably ten seconds straight.] What now? The date is incorrect?
DONNA HOWELL: His age is, yes. It says that he died at seventy-five, but he couldn’t have been older than sixty-four at most.
MARYANN: No, if it says he died at seventy-five, then that would be the age he died. [Her tone was kind, but firm.] It wouldn’t say that on his tomb if [she interrupted herself]— Is there a reason you believe we’re incorrect?
DONNA HOWELL: Oh, actually, it’s in your own literature. I have it pulled up in front of me on your website, as well as a book I have here, published by the Institution in 1904.
MARYANN: [Momentary silence.] You mean we are the ones saying the dating on the tomb is incorrect?
DONNA HOWELL: Yes, that’s right. The story goes that Smithson’s nephew wrote the epitaph and it was engraved that way, but it’s still showing the wrong age. Is it still this way for sentimental purposes, or because it’s considered to be an artifact in itself, or…?
MARYANN: Uh, you know, I don’t know. I don’t think I can answer your question. I don’t have that information. If the display says he was seventy-five years old when he died, then that’s the age [she interrupted herself again]— I mean, it’s what the tomb says, right? We would certainly only give the correct information there. Um. Uh… We don’t just have people on the phone ready to talk about James Smithson.
DONNA HOWELL: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that you guys would know the answer to such an obscure question off the cuff. The title “information specialist” threw me off. That was probably a term that referred to scheduled tours or something. Do you know who I might be able to call or email?
MARYANN: Well, I mean we are the specialists here to— We do have information on— I tell you what, why don’t you just send your question in over email?
DONNA HOWELL: Sounds good. [Donna took the info from her and then bravely plugged one last thought.] While I have you on the line, do you happen to know if there is a plaque on display in that room anywhere that corrects the information for visitors? I mean, it’s the Smithsonian. I know the Smithsonian has very high standards of reporting only what’s true. Doesn’t it create an issue that the very founder’s information is in error and that people might be misled? Wouldn’t some think that other information on display there is inaccurate if they learn that this one is?
MARYANN: I don’t believe there is another plaque, no. Just what the tomb says. I understand why you would be concerned, but it is just the date of his age. Everything else here is true. [!!!]
DONNA HOWELL: Oh, of course. I didn’t mean to insinuate there was a conspiracy or anything. Well, this email is helpful, thank you!
Donna ended the call on a cheerful note and let Maryann get on with her day, and then immediately followed up with an email to the address she provided. She received an email back a few days later saying that her question was forwarded to the curator, but the curator never responded.
But readers should not assume that we are patting ourselves on the back just because we were able to prove that a person named Maryann at the information center didn’t know about the tomb of James Smithson. I am well aware that you cannot rely on even the most trained employees of an institution to be able to answer every question about every display on command, and Donna said as much to her during the call. The only thing this short talk confirmed to me was that our national—no, global—attitude toward historical accuracy is yielding, lenient, and far too quick to trust anything a plaque says at a museum somewhere. Maryann was absolutely so sure and so trusting that information on the tomb was accurate, just because it was posted by the Smithsonian authority she works for. Maryann’s response to the display essentially translates, “No, if the Smithsonian said it, it must be true, because they only speak the truth. And if there isan error, then it’s an irrelevant one. No big deal. Just a date. A typo. But everything else is true.” Such a quick conclusion bespeaks of substantial naïveté.
Never mind the fact that the tomb has been in its current location since the celebratory escort by the United States Cavalry in January of 1904, and that the Institute has known about the discrepancy since. We’re not talking about a commemoration panel for some unremarkable personality put up yesterday that the staff hasn’t had a chance to correct yet. We are talking about the exhibition of an errant fact regarding the most important individual behind the Smithsonian that the institution has deliberately ignored for 112 years, and the only way the members of the public would know they have been misinformed is if they dig into the small print and do their own independent research. (And again, if they are keeping the original “75 years” age on the tomb because the stone with the inscription is itself an artifact, then a nearby panel should explain the discrepancy.)
There are times, as proved by this experience, that we treat truth like plastic that can bend when it’s not really considered an important affair. We respond with, “Well, it is just this insignificant detail, but everything else is true. Let’s not be petty.” Why is “everything else” true? Because the illustrious and benevolent “they”—that authority who has the reputation for the last word on the respective subject—have said so. And there have been times the “they” have “said so” to the fatal detriment of the trusting public.
Remember what people first said about cigarettes? “No, cigarettes aren’t harmful. Theywouldn’t be allowed to sell them if they were dangerous.” In this case, the “they” might be referring to the tobacco companies or the trust in FDA protection, but the people inhaling carcinogens prior to their doctor’s cancer diagnosis were convinced the powers-that-be were ensuring the product’s integrity. Recall what was said of asbestos originally? “No, that’s ridiculous. Asbestos isn’t causing cancer. They said that was all just a ridiculous rumor. They wouldn’t be allowed to insulate buildings with asbestos if exposure to it was making people sick.” In this case, the “they” would have been the manufacturing companies who wanted to continue cutting cost corners regardless of the death count, but hordes of people were made ill or died when the powers-that-be took as long as they did to unveil the dangers. And consider Wall Street prior to the Great Depression. “Trust me, investing in these stocks is completely safe. Everyone is investing today, and they said the economy is brighter than it’s ever been and only shows signs of continual growth and prosperity.” The “they” here might have been anyone from the nation’s richest stock brokers to the Wall Street Journal to President Hoover to the society around everyone in general who had begun living lavish lifestyles, but soon the entire country fell into one of the largest economic travesties we’ve ever witnessed in world history because the powers-that-be weren’t as Johnny-on-the-spot or transparent as they presented themselves to be.
They said the Titanic would never sink. They said the Jews were living happy lives in Nazi concentration camps.
They posted that Smithson died at the age of “75 years,” and Maryann initially pronounced that if they said “75 years,” then it was true, and even if it wasn’t, everything else was…because the Smithsonian is the “they” of the last word.
“They” are not always the final authority, even though “they” are often trusted as the final authority.
And as small a detail as the information on the tomb of Smithson may be, where does one draw the line? Who discerns what is irrelevant and inconsequential from what is important? Is there a strict rule about what false information is allowed versus what is not? Has the same individual who deemed the great late James Smithson’s tomb a trivial matter also marginalized the feelings of those who say their Native American national exhibit “inadequately represents the persecution of Native Americans” (which has also been a major ongoing concern)?[iii] What about all the voices that have cried out against the inaccuracies of their African History exhibit?[iv] Were those insignificant details as well?
It’s not just Maryann. It’s not limited to the offense that a representative of the “company of truth” has no idea the lie that greets every tourist that enters their main facility, or that she doesn’t consider it a big deal. Like I said only pages ago, this is a symptom of a much bigger problem.
I can’t possibly be the only one who finds that thread of thought unsettling, especially when unquestioning and assumptive sentiments such as “everything else is true” come from those who are representatives of “an Establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men”[v] (the Smithsonian mission statement in James Smithson’s will).
Ultimately, we have to accept the fact that when the injury of misinformation is added to the intentional neglect of the all-knowing “they,” then piled atop a public that will consider the last word of the authority gospel, we arrive at an equation that spreads distortion like a brush fire. Add to this years and years of the public’s cultural familiarity with, and acceptance of, the skewed concept, and we arrive at a day when anything that challenges the national “truth” is immediately marginalized or written off as the ramblings of a conspiracy-theory madman despite supporting evidence. It’s an age-old social science: When people have largely adopted a way of thinking into their society and slowly built a universal worldview around it, they will not easily receive modifications to that worldview—even when the worldview is based on inaccuracy in the first place. They don’t want to hear the truth, because it means letting go of all they’ve known or believed in up to that point, so they hold on to what’s familiar, what’s comfortable, always referring back to some “they” authority to support them when questioned.
In the upcoming Cloudeaters book and documentary film, readers and viewers will no longer assume the evidence of enormous human bones—and the challenges those bones produce toward our mainstream evolutionary worldviews—is all nonsense just because some “they” says so.
They say we came from monkeys. They say there are no giant bones that oppose mainstream evolutionary science. They say these giants will never be reanimated or return.
But they are lying, and the proof of that is penetrating, as the world will soon know.