At first glance, Uri Geller appears to be no more than a freakish, spoon-bending Israeli entertainer.
Look a little deeper though and an altogether different picture emerges.
Uri claims he worked as a CIA secret service operative.
Uri claims he worked for the FBI.
Uri claims he worked for Mossad.
Uri is close chums with Greville Janner, who has allegedly been implicated in VIP child-abuse networks.
Uri is close chums with Cliff Richard, who has also allegedly been implicated in VIP child-abuse networks.
Is Uri a much more powerful and sinister figure than his oddbod image portrays?
Has Uri, like so many others, been hiding behind a false identity?
In a blog forum discussion, members raised the subject of Uri’s friendship with two dead singers, Michael Jackson and John Lennon:
” Uri Geller also has a CIA secret service background, I believe Michael was deliberately set up as a part of the conspiracy with Martin bashir by Uri Geller so that he could be brought to trial of child allegations, this they hoped would destroy Michael career and would have the additional bonus of creating a financial situation to force him to sell his sony catelogue, to reduce the power of his mesage in the world, about love peace compassion forgiveness.
Uri Geller also was friends with John Lennon before he died, and that is very odd because John Lennon also had the same message in the world love peace forgiveness compassion and ending of war.”
” I used to think Uri was just another one of those people that kinda passed through Michael’s life un-noticed but after hearing more about him and seeing My Friend Michael Jackson, I think there’s alot more to him. I mean, there was a video where fans were almost diving on Michael and they eventually knocked him down but all Uri was bothered about was the camera. It was hardly a friendship anyway really, they saw each other few times for a couple of years and then I think Michael finally realised that Uri was another leech so just ignored him.
It was pointed out the other day on here that Michael is never smiling in a picture with Uri which I find very strange, even when they’re posing for pictures, he looks very awkward and uncomfortable and he looks almost lifeless. And thinking about it, the only time I’ve seen Michael a little bit happy was when they were touring the Houses of Parliament.
Look at Michael in this picture here, it’s almost scary to think what could have been going on. It looks as if Michael’s been drugged heavily and he’s about to collapse. It’s just not right.”
” One of the things I find very strange about Uri Gellar was that he claims he knew michael was innocent of child molestation because he hypnotised him in the 90s on his recent documentary, but when he was interviewed on ITN news in 2003 about the Martin Bashir documentary, he said Michael wanted to reveal his secrets, and he didn’t say anything about him being innocent.”
How close was Uri to Michael Jackson and what influence did he exert over him?
We don’t know.
How close was Uri to John Lennon and what influence did he exert over him?
We don’t know.
But what we do know is this:
Shortly before his death, John Lennon gave Uri a bullet-shaped egg.
According to John, the egg had been a gift from visiting aliens.
Uri didn’t doubt John’s strange story and claimed that John didn’t want the egg because it symbolised that he was meant to leave this world.
Uri gave this account of the egg and his close friendship with John:
” We were eating in a restaurant in New York City, Yoko was with us, so this was after their big breakup and reconciliation. Yoko was expecting their child, Sean, and John was excited — he was going to love this baby day and night: feed him, change him, teach him to talk, teach him to love music.
He did all of that. And he was going to watch him grow into adolescence, through the tumbles from bicycles and terrors of schooldays, from reading to dating to college. He never got to do that. John started talking about UFOs.
He said he believed life existed on other planets, that it had visited us, that maybe it was observing us right now. He took me to a quieter, darker table, lit a cigarette and pointed its glowing tip at my face.
“You believe in this stuff, right?” he asked me. “Well, you ain’t f___in’ gonna believe this.”
“About six months ago, I was asleep in my bed, with Yoko, at home, in the Dakota Building. And suddenly, I wasn’t asleep. Because there was this blazing light round the door. It was shining through the cracks and the keyhole, like someone was out there with searchlights, or the apartment was on fire.
“That was what I thought — intruders, or fire. I leapt out of bed, and Yoko wasn’t awake at all, she was lying there like a stone, and I pulled open the door. There were these four people out there.”
“Fans?” I asked him.
“Well, they didn’t want my autograph. They were like, little. Bug-like. Big bug eyes and little bug mouths and they were scuttling at me like roaches.”
He broke off and stared at me.
“I’ve told this to two other people, right? One was Yoko, and she believes me. She says she doesn’t understand it, but she knows I didn’t lie to her. I told one other person, and she didn’t believe me.
“She laughed it off, and then she said I must have been high. Well, I’ve been high, I mean right out of it, a lot of times, and I never saw anything on acid that was as weird as those f___in’ bugs, man.
“I was straight that night. I wasn’t dreaming and I wasn’t tripping. There were these creatures, like people but not like people, in my apartment.”
“What did they do to you?” Lennon swore again. “How do you know they did anything to me, man?” “Because they must have come for a reason.”
“Your’re right. They did something. But I don’t know what it was. I tried to throw them out, but, when I took a step towards them, they kind of pushed me back. I mean, they didn’t touch me. It was like they just willed me. Pushed me with willpower and telepathy.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. Something happened. Don’t ask me what. Either I’ve forgotten, blocked it out, or they won’t let me remember. But after a while they weren’t there and I was just lying on the bed, next to Yoko, only I was on the covers.
“And she woke up and looked at me and asked what was wrong. I couldn’t tell her at first. But I had this thing in my hands. They gave it to me.”
“What was it?” Lennon dug into his jeans pocket. “I’ve been carrying it round ever since, wanting to ask somebody the same question. You have it. Maybe you’ll know.”
“I took the metal, egg-like object and turned it over in the dim light. It seemed solid and smooth, and I could make out no markings. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Keep it.” John told me. “It’s too weird for me. If it’s my ticket to another planet, I don’t want to go there.”
When we first met on November 28, 1974 he was suffering terribly from his separation from Yoko. His drug abuse, and drinking, linked to the sorrow of Yoko’s recent miscarriage, had driven them apart, and John desperately wanted to mend the relationship.
He just didn’t know how to make the first move. The night Lennon and I were introduced, Elton John was playing at Madison Square Gardens. Elton was trying to persuade the ex-Beatle to get up on stage with him, and John was torn — he wanted to perform but he was scared.
Finally he turned to me and offered a deal, as though I were a negotiator sent by God: “I’ll sing,” he said, “but you have to make Yoko call me.”
Like all of John’s jokes, this one was a plea from the heart, wrapped in a sardonic quip. Yoko phoned John out of the blue, 36 hours later. I think John always believed I had beamed a mind-control ray at her. For my part, I think that of all the synchronicities that have shaped my life, that was one of the strangest.
Now, 24 years on, when I hold the cold, metal egg in my fist, I have a strong sensation that John knew more about this object than he told me. Maybe it didn’t come with an instruction manual, but I think John knew what it was for.
And whatever that purpose was — communication? healing? a first-class intergalactic ticket? — it scared him. I wish I could have warned him… that however scary aliens seem, it’s the humans you have to fear.”
Very true Uri.
If Uri’s links to two dead celebs weren’t enough, we then find this report about the murder of Jill Dando.
Uri was peddling the red-herring myth about Jill’s murder being Serbian a mere two days after the event, when in reality she was murdered because she knew about the BBC paedophile ring:
“ So who killed Jill Dando? According to Uri Geller, it was a Serb hitman.
I know this because about two days after her murder, I had lunch with Uri Geller for a project we wanted him to do. I wasn’t looking forward to it as I considered him to be a bit of a charlatan and found his spoon-bending schtick to be tiresome. However, I was surprised as he was quite fascinating. And did he like to talk.
He also said he was convinced a Serbian hitman was responsible for Jill Dando’s death.”
How very,very strange indeed.
Even stranger, is that Uri Geller predicted the tragic Paddington Train Crash in 1999 and miraculously avoided death:
” TV PSYCHIC Uri Geller told last night how his life was saved after a premonition of the Paddington rail disaster.
He was about to catch the doomed train when his brother-in-law begged him to go by road instead. Uri heeded the warning – and was stunned when he heard on his car radio that the train had crashed.
Last night, spoon-bending Uri, 53, said he owes his life to the vision of death seen by Shipi Shtrang, who is also his manager.
He said: “It makes me shudder to think what might have happened. I owe my life to Shipi.”
Uri had aimed to catch the train at Reading on his way to record an interview about a new book for BBC TV. Instead he travelled by chauffeur-driven car.”
Some people claim that many of the disasters that have happened in the UK have been “inside jobs”, perpetrated by Mi5 and Mossad for their own sick ends. Was the Paddington rail crash also an inside job?
Has Uri Geller been involved in the dark forces that control this septic isle from the shadows?
Is there so much more to Uri Geller than meets the eye?
We haven’t got a bloody clue.