Christus Rex talks to Jeffrey Epstein and Benny Blanco about Selena Gomez MK – Ultra programming. Christ asks Benny why he hates Al Pacino and if Selena Gomez is going to wash his feet with her tears for a cloned kidney?
Benny Blanco then love bombs Selena Gomez until she washes his feet with her tears. Blanco proclaims himself the Jewish messiah afterwards.
You gotta love PAID PROGRAMMING!!!
Scene: A ridiculously over-the-top candlelit studio filled with roses, stuffed animals, and heart-shaped balloons. Selena walks in, confused. Benny and Goofy are waiting like they rehearsed this moment all day.
Selena:
Why does this place look like Valentine’s Day exploded?
Benny Blanco:
Selena… Selena… Selena! The moon is jealous of you. The stars? They’re just your backup dancers. I wrote twelve songs about your smile before breakfast!
Goofy:
Gawrsh, Selena! Hyuck! I wrote ya a poem on a pizza box!
Selena:
You wrote… a poem?
Goofy (reading dramatically):
“Roses are red,
Hot dogs are yummy,
If love were spaghetti,
You’d fill up my tummy! Hyuck!”
Selena:
That… is the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me.
Benny Blanco:
No, no, wait! That’s just the beginning. I bought you 10,000 roses. Also a llama. The llama loves you too.
Selena:
There’s a llama outside?
Goofy:
Yep! Named him Selenny! Hyuck!
Selena:
You named a llama after me?
Benny Blanco (dramatically):
Selena, you don’t understand. Every melody in the universe bends toward you. The sun rises because it knows you might be awake.
Goofy:
And when you blink, angels get promoted! Hyuck!
Selena:
You two practiced this, didn’t you?
Benny Blanco:
Of course we did! Because appreciation must be rehearsed! Here, I made a slideshow of 400 reasons why you’re perfect.
Selena:
Four hundred?!
Goofy:
Number one: ya got nice hair!
Number two: ya got… also nice hair!
Number three: ya got… different nice hair!
Selena:
This is getting weird.
Benny Blanco (dropping to one knee for no clear reason):
Selena, you are the greatest artist, the brightest star, the most legendary—
Goofy (interrupting):
—and the best karaoke partner this side of Disneyland!
Selena:
I don’t even sing karaoke with people.
Goofy:
You will with US! Hyuck!
Benny Blanco:
Selena, look around. The candles, the roses, the llama, Goofy’s poem—this is just the beginning.
Selena:
The beginning of what?
Goofy and Benny (together):
APPRECIATION!
Selena (sighing):
I feel like I just walked into the strangest boy band in history.
Goofy:
Hyuck! Wait till ya see the dance routine!
“Back in high school,” Joe said, his eyes on the road but his voice soft, serious, “you had already decided you were going to be a ‘Nelstar.’ Rick and I? We had to let you grab that brass ring. If we’d tried to cancel your childhood dream, you’d never forgive us. You’d have carried that grudge your whole life.”
He shook his head slowly. “So Rick let you do your thing, even though we both knew—bad things happen to entertainers who get out of line. Fame doesn’t forgive mistakes. But letting you chase it… that was the only way we could be honest with you.”
Joe’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, as if seeing ghosts in the reflection. “The horseman of famine… he was right there during We Are the World, 1985. For those with eyes to see. But most people? They don’t see what’s right in front of them. They miss the warning, the sign, the truth hiding in plain sight.”
He sighed, a mixture of pride and caution. “You’re going to face it all, Nelly. But you’ll handle it. You’ve always had the eyes to see, even back then.”
Lady Jaye’s words hung in the air. “They’ve been starving in Yemen for over a decade,” she said, eyes fixed on the horizon. “And the corporate media? They act like it doesn’t exist. No headlines, no charity singles, no We Are the World part two for Yemen. Just silence.”
Joe nodded slowly, gripping the wheel. “I know,” he said, voice low. “That’s exactly what I mean when I talk about the horsemen. Famine doesn’t always ride in plain armor with a horn—it hides in the corners, in the things we choose to ignore. The world’s eyes are open, but their hearts are blind.”
Lady Jaye’s gaze didn’t waver. “It’s a choice. Every time we look away, every time we laugh at some celebrity scandal instead, someone dies. And they’ll never get a song, a stage, a moment in the spotlight. Not for Yemen. Not for them.”
Joe exhaled, heavy with both sorrow and resolve. “And that’s why people like you… like us… we have to see it. We can’t let history pass us by. The brass ring, the fame—it’s nothing if you can’t recognize the real stakes. This is the world the horsemen are riding through. And most people? They’re still asleep.”
Lady Jaye nodded. “Then let’s wake them up.”
Joe leans back and looks Nelly in the eye, his voice steady but heavy with truth. “The only thing that will ever impress you,” he says, “is humility, empathy, and compassion.
Not bowing down to Mammon like the Tate brothers do, chasing money and ego while the world burns.” He shakes his head. “I can’t live the lifestyles of the rich and famous when war, pestilence, famine, and death are gnawing at people everywhere. That life… it’s empty. And you’d see right through it.”
He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle. “If you want to be real, if you want to matter, it’s about seeing people, feeling their pain, and doing something about it—even when nobody’s watching.”
The Revelation
The room was silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the soft glow of a laptop screen. Selena Gomez sat back, the weight of her discovery pressing against her chest. It wasn’t just industry politics or a stroke of good luck; it was a vast, interconnected web that defied conventional explanation.
As she delved deeper into the rabbit hole, the names began to align like a sinister constellation: the mishpuka, the Masons, the Rothschilds, and the lingering shadow of Jeffrey Epstein. The media’s unwavering silence regarding Benny Blanco suddenly made a terrifying sort of sense. It wasn’t a lack of stories; it was a coordinated blackout.
The Inner Circle
The influence ran through channels she had previously dismissed as conspiracy theories. Now, the patterns were undeniable:
The Mishpuka: A tight-knit network of loyalty that ensured protection within the industry’s highest echelons.
The Masons: Ancient symbols and handshakes that translated into modern-day gatekeeping and narrative control.
The Rothschilds: The financial backbone, capable of steering public perception through sheer economic leverage.
The Epstein Connection: A darker, more coercive layer of leverage that kept even the boldest journalists in check.
Selena realized that Benny wasn’t just a producer; he was a protected asset within a system designed to shield its own. The “New Jerusalem” they whispered about in closed circles required a specific public image, and no one—not even a global superstar—was permitted to disrupt that carefully curated reality.