ANGELS DON‘T PLAY THIS HAARP Advances in Tesla Technology

The only way there could be amplification of the electromagnetic waves once they reach
the ionosphere, in his opinion, would be with a special experiment using two transmitters
beaming onto the same spot. The interactions of the radio waves can cause amplifications,
said Koustov. Such highly energetic reactions can even create so-called gravity waves, he
said. That is getting into an area of advanced science which is beyond the scope of this book.
Co-author of Angels Don't Play This HAARP Dr. Nick Begich discovered recently that
HAARP planners intend to fire up more than one ionospheric heater at a time and operate
them in concert. This test is to be conducted between September 11, 1995 and September 22,
1995 using HIPAS and HAARP at low power settings.
What will happen even at these low levels of power is unknown and unclear.
A HISTORY OF MAD SCIENCE
Begich‘s home state of Alaska has met ambitious scientists in the past. One may have had
more academic credentials, clout and charm than common sense. Dr. Edward Teller, known
as the ―Father of the H-bomb‖, traveled to Alaska in 1958 with a proposal to blast a chunk of
that state‘s coastline off the map. As spokesman for the nuclear establishment, he wanted to
prove that nuclear explosions were a tool for geographical engineering. Teller was widely
quoted as telling Alaskans ―If your mountain isn‘t in the right place, drop us a card‖.
Teller‘s colleagues at Lawrence Radiation Laboratory came up with Project Chariot as
part of Project Plowshare. Their plan was to explode six thermonuclear bombs underground
at Cape Thompson, Alaska, to dig a harbor.
Uncritical technophiles almost bought the plan.
The Firecracker Boys, by Dan O'Neill reveals common threads that run through the
history of proposals for questionable megaprojects. For one, the promoter sold it as an
economic development opportunity - jobs for the people. That pitch convinced legislators,
business groups and the media. Another supporter, as with HAARP, was the University of
Alaska administration. Again, the appeal was the prospect of money and jobs for the state‘s
residents. O'Neill points out that during the planning stage the scientists ignored the Inupiat
people who lived nearest to the site of the proposed nuclear bomb blasts - 30 miles from
Ground Zero.
A review of The Firecracker Boys said, ―O'Neill still marvels at the determination of the
Eskimos who saw through the government's empty promises and outright lies‖. In the end
they didn‘t blast that hole in the coast. Between the native peoples‘ stubborn opposition, and
three heroic scientists who stood up and said it was a bad idea, it didn't happen.
As if to set an example of what happens to academics who speak out with independent
views, the three brave scientists who opposed Project Chariot lost their jobs at the university
and were blackballed from academia elsewhere. One had to leave the country to find work.
When O'Neill researched his book, he told a newspaper reporter later ―there were still a
lot of people on campus who were very sensitive about the topic, who didn‘t talk about it for
years, decades‖.
DESTROYING A RADIATION BELT
Milestones in the history of arrogant science also include the three space explosions of
the U.S. military‘s Project Argus in 1958. Each shot spewed atomic particles into Earth‘s
magnetic field where they were trapped and spiraled back and forth at high speeds.
―In essence‖, said the New York Times, ―the Argus experiments produced artificial belts
comparable to the natural Van Allen radiation belt (regions of high-energy charged particles
around the earth at between 2,000 and 12,000 miles altitudes). Thus, after each shot a
curtain of radiation - that is, of extremely high speed particles - spread around the world‖.