…yes, you read that headline correctly. According to this story spotted and shared by M.W., an Isreali firm is proposing to grow human embryos - without heads - in artificial wombs, all for the purposes of harvesting their organs, for God-knows-what: Human Embryos WITHOUT HEADS to be Grown in Mechanical Wombs Citing yet another article…


The Israeli angle…
Years ago in a New Jersey city dominated by Hasidim a scandal broke out involving the illegal sale of human organs. The story saw daylight for about three days then disappeared below the surface.


Interesting group of people to be interested in organ harvesting, wow the strangeness beggars belief.

I am glad this info is out somewhere. I hope it makes it into somewhere like Epoch Times or ZH. Thank you, Dr. Farrell. The Satanists in the DS Military DUMBS have been doing this sort of horror (and worse) for decades per eyewitness whistle-blowers from the 1980s. This is the soft conditioning behind the transhuman IMMORTAL agenda: we human technogod’s can make you live forever. The price is your morals and ethics which a large number of people have no problem relinquishing. To be fair many simply do not understand what they are risking; how often will gene edits, CRISPER adjustments and more be part of the deal? Other conditioning has been IVF and “humanitarian” organ transplantation donations on your Driver’s License, most of which ends up in FOR PROFIT businesses. The US is apparently one of the FEW COUNTRIES ON EARTH WHICH ALLOWS harvesting of body parts and sale to institutions around the world. The abuses are huge especially today when as this info reveals, there are no ethical “product concerns.”

I remember that story. About 1 year ago.

Assembly Line
by Shu Ting

In time’s assembly line
Night presses against night.
We come off the factory night-shift
In line as we march towards home.
Over our heads in a row
The assembly line of stars
Stretches across the sky.
Beside us, little trees
Stand numb in assembly lines.
The stars must be exhausted
After thousands of years
Of journeys which never change.
The little trees are all sick,
Choked on smog and monotony,
Stripped of their color and shape.
It’s not hard to feel for them;
We share the same tempo and rhythm.
Yes, I’m numb to my own existence
As if, like the trees and stars
–perhaps just out of habit
–perhaps just out of sorrow,
I’m unable to show concern
For my own manufactured fate.