I attended McMaster University from 2001 to 2005. I was part of the first year of the school’s new Communication Studies program. I ended up choosing the Cultural Studies and Linguistics streams.
(Given that there’s no evidence being presented here that isn’t circumstantial, this post and the others like this are exercises in hypothesizing for entertainment purposes only, whether or not the accounts presented correspond to real, not-fictional events.)
I met a guy named Matthew Root in 2003, my third year. I had played in the pit band for McMaster University Musical Theatre’ production of The Who’s Tommy. I played guitar #2 (though I played the acoustic guitar solo in “It’s a Boy” instead of guitar #1, because I had auditioned with the original “It’s a Boy” solo from the Tommy album).
Some guys from the show’s pit band (with two of the singing actors) got the idea to start a cover band out of the guys in the pit band, and at least one of them knew a piano player named Matt who rounded out the band.
Those guys were into what I learned were called “spoonerisms,” where you invert the first letters/sounds of people’s first and last names, or of a pair of words.
Matt Root’s spoonerism is “Ratt Moot”.
Matt was a liar
Matt’s ex-wife is still out there, and I don’t like the thought of embarrassing her, but when my ex-wife and I met him, he was cheating on his wife, and using us as an excuse to see his other woman. We screened our calls back then, and I recall a particularly amusing instance where we listened to him conduct a one-sided fake phone conversation for his wife’s benefit. He also introduced himself to my sister with this completely unnecessary bit of sharing:
“My wife’s up at teacher’s college in Northern Ontario. I think she’s playing around on me.”
The guy didn’t care about lying to my sister in front of me. With that on top of the cheating, it was clear that this guy was some sort of snake.
Like a classic borderline, he told us that his wife was this insufferable, irrational, unreasonable monster. We met her for drinks one evening, and we had a lovely time with her and her husband. She was delightful. And, we noticed—nothing like what Matt described.
That he was a nutjob became more and more clear over the years. Eventually, I heard this gem—on four occasions, when Matt was absolutely logically flummoxed in an argument with his wife, and when he could not deny that she was right and he was wrong, he resorted to declaring that he was going to bounce in place until she gave in. He then proceeded to jump up and down, like he was doing the pogo, but with an insane detached expression on his face, as his tactic for dealing with a marital disagreement.
It’s also amazing to me that it never occurred to him that his wife could tell her side of things to their mutual friends, and that this behaviour could become known to people that he knew. Or maybe it did; I don’t know.
Another act of deviousness: Matt would siphon $4,000 a year from the bank account of the CUPE 3907 treasury during his 10-year tenure as the President of the chapter. That’s $400,000 worth of embezzlement from the union. Turns out his strategy was to do as little work in his office as possible while his administrative assistant, Rosemary Viola, handled the operations of his office.
And this one… Outside of his family, he told people, including his wife and employers, that he had served as a UN peacekeeper, during which service he was trained as a sniper, and was “haunted by nightmares” about the three people he had to kill, as he was assigned to shoot anyone who crossed a particular bridge, and did so, because he was a soldier doing his duty, and that caused him emotional grief. (Apparently that story is in Romeo Dallaire’s book.)
Mike Ruppert and the Order of the Skull and Bones
In my first two years of university I lived in a student house a block off the McMaster University campus. One day during second year, I came home to find one of my housemates watching a video. It featured Los Angeles Police Department detective Mike Ruppert confronting CIA Director John Deutch about U.S. military personnel smuggling cocaine from a submarine from a secluded location off Redondo Beach, California, in a press conference that aired on C-SPAN.
I visited Mike Ruppert’s website, From the Wilderness, and I ordered a copy of America’s Secret Establishment: The Order of the Skull and Bones by Antony Sutton, a Hoover Institution fellow.
In that book I learned that in 1832, an Illuminati chapter was founded at Yale University by students William Russell and Alphonso Taft. The book described the Illuminati’s strategy of achieving secret penetration across society and across time—in institutions in a range of important fields, and maintaining its system by employing succession planning. Part of the strategy was manipulating multiple (or “both”) sides of political conflicts.
The founders of the American Historical Association and the American Economic Association were Skull and Bonesmen. The University of California was founded by a Skull and Bonesman. George W. Bush, George Bush, and his father Prescott Bush were members. William F. Buckley, Archibald MacLeish, Averell Harriman, Robert Lovett, and McGeorge Bundy were members.
Speaking out and getting noticed
I was taking a course in Professional Writing at the time, and there was an assignment to deliver a speech. I decided to tell the class about the Order of the Skull and Bones.
It turns out that the instructor, Joanne Buckley, author of Fit to Print, was the satan’s world order captain for the McMaster University campus. (They operate regionally,)
Not long after that, a student in a tutorial section I was leading named Mary Tran spent two hours over two weeks chatting with me during office hours, during which time she explained that she was sent by the same people as “the Illuminati.” She said her father was a billionaire I’d never heard of, and that there are people they call “super heroes” who try to oppose the powerful-elite-secret people, and “you don’t want to be one of them.”
I took that very seriously. She said enough that I got the feeling that she wasn’t joking around.
Getting handled
It turns out that I was assigned a “handler” by the Illuminati-or-whatever-you-call-them people, and that handler was Matt Root. When I learned this, it suddenly made a whole new kind of sense why he had behaved the way he had over the years. He was assigned to remain my friend, and no matter how long or much I ignored him, he would always call to chat, and occasionally suggest get-togethers.
He was also very passive-aggressive, and there were a bunch of behavioural irritations that arose over the years. I particularly hated that he socially-engineered my laptop password at one point, and pushed, despite my hesitation, under the guise of friendship. “No, just tell me.” In retrospect, that one really jumped out as vile when I learned what his game was.
I’ll tell you this one as an example of the kind of shit the guy would do. There’s a story, apparently it’s about Jaco Pastorius, who skipped a sight-reading class for an entire semester but showed up for the exam, then made a deal with the professor that if he did the exam perfectly, that would be his grade for the course, but if he made a single mistake, he’d receive an F.
In Matt’s version, he did the exam perfectly, and then was told by his instructor, “You are one arrogant son of a bitch, Matthew Root.”
He actually only qualified for Mohawk College’s music program because he used his connections to have the performance requirements waived. He didn’t complete the program, and became neither a professional musician nor a music teacher. That’s a bad turnout for someone who goes to a serious music program like the one at Mohawk.
He also claimed to have served as a U.N. peacekeeper, and that he nightmares about the three people he had to kill, as a sniper assigned to protect a bridge. That was a lie; he never served in any kind of military.
He ended up washing out of his career as a union man. He’d been the president of CUPE 3906, then got hired by Unifor to be a National Representative. He was hopeful, but before long, (according to him) he was on leave, seeing a psychiatrist, and not long after that, his marriage ended.
Turns out he couldn’t lie his way into being competent. He could fake it, but he couldn’t make it.
One more bizarre, dumb thing he said once
The guy had some weird mental issue such that he misunderstood the point of the Glyn Johns drum microphone approach. That method is the best way to mike a drum set when you are using three mixer channels. He somehow warped this into “anyone who uses more than three microphone on a drum set is an idiot.”
That is not true; you mic each drum and use a pair of overheads, plus a mic on the hi-hat and one under the snare—that’s typical. You can look that up on YouTube. It was an oddly wrong thing for someone to construct about that bit of music production trivia.
Also—the guy couldn’t do arithmetic in his head. He didn’t go to real high school, and only got into the music program at Mohawk because strings were pulled and the performance requirements were waived.
Ending the friendship
I started channeling eight years ago, and things got a lot worse between us after that. My life changed, and though he offered support, he would also offer frank disapproval. He was a religious man, and my channeling didn’t conform to his religious beliefs, so it became a sticking point. He was the kind of person who would go out of his way to point out why Protestantism is superior to your family’s Catholicism (my mother is Catholic; I went to a Catholic primary school and was a non-religious rational skeptic), given that Catholics don’t read the Bible like Protestants do. He also earnestly believed that the United Church had it right over the other Protestant denominations.
And then—turns out the guy was a spy. That’s why he was sticking around when no one else would, nor would want to, given how awkward things had become. (He had also mooched $400 off me in the last few years of his life, and I must say, I wasn’t going to miss that kind of “friend”.)
So I sent him a nicely-worded text message, and that was end. That was February 6.
Now, as my handler, if I he can’t monitor me anymore, he is supposed to report this to his superiors. It’s possible that his phone was monitored.
The way I heard it—he and his father, Jim Root, from the highest-level of Freemasonry as descendants of Elihu Root, who was (secretly) the son of Otto von Bismarck, were found shot to death in a field on 8th Concession Road in Schomberg, Ontario, on February 8, along with Buzz Hargrove and Jerry Dias, both high-level leadership and formerly of Unifor.
I know this particular street—oddly enough, I had a friend who used to live nearby. These are all residential farm properties. That property had a steel buliding on it already, and this is an odd number of vehicles to be parked at this type of property during the daytime. This looks more like the kind of parking you’d see where people are at work. You wouldn’t normally have that many people at a residential property like that one in the daytime.
That building is now being used to produce crystal meth.
Surveillance begins on Emerald Crescent
Shortly thereafter, I noticed surveillance vehicles on my street. This video is from February 23, 2023. I was outside shoveling snow when I noticed the two vehicles, the truck and the sedan, engaging in suspicious movements.
The sedan was parked on Emerald Crescent near Emerald Street with its lights on. The pickup pulled up beside it. The sedan drove down the street and parked. The pickup parked in front of it. After over a minute of sitting parked down the street, which I’ve been shooting, the men inside leave the vehicles and slowly begin walking towards the house at the end of the street.
I saw many vehicles around this time and afterwards. One of them very deliberately flashed their lights at me as I pulled out of my driveway. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that these cars and trucls were autonomous, self-driving vehicles. There were multiple instances of black pickup trucks and SUVs parked on my street with no personal items inside.
It’s a strange thing to learn that someone you knew for a long time was secretly working against you. I mean, I knew he was resentful and passive-aggressive, and was “against” me in those ways. I just figured it was because he was a weasel.
I didn’t know it was because he was a Freemason Satan’s Choice Canada weasel.
