What a beautiful profile, that beautiful nose, that noble chin, that studious forehead. The touch of gray temples and a luxurious mop of sleek black hair. If only he’d taken a bath in the past two weeks.
Keith Raniere used to walk miles every day in the Knox Woods subdivision thinking about how to solve the world’s problems and / or which woman’s house he would stop at to ejaculate.
At any point in his prime, he could simply walk into one of his harem houses and be worshiped and ejaculate. Raniere had a clever way of looking after his harem. They weren’t allowed to be with another man because their spiritual bond with him was so fine and pure that he could kill him.
And no woman wanted to be responsible for the Vanguard’s death.
When he came to visit a harem member and wanted sex, he had a nifty way of not having to please them. He taught them that the ultimate goal of their spiritual sex with him was not for them to have an orgasm but for him to have an orgasm. It was the greatest gift they could ever receive – part of his ejaculate.
It had magical properties, he said, so powerful that it could change a woman’s DNA. Even a few drops of the precious liquid dripping down their bodies from its limp member was an ecstatic experience for women – provided, of course, that they were sufficiently advanced spiritually.
Thus, the clever Raniere had only to indulge himself, to be satisfied with the woman of his choice. Since he had more than 20-30 wives at one time, some women only saw him occasionally. All women have been deprived of all male companionship for years. But at least the Vanguard was happy.
He did some things very well: sleep a lot, eat a lot, walk a lot, play volleyball, imagine many ways to hurt people including his followers, act like a genius and a compassionate guru – and ejaculate.
He claimed to only sleep two hours a night, which was true since he slept about seven hours a day.
He needed extra sleep because he had such a heavy obligation to spiritually bless his wives with his pretty magical ejaculate.
The thinker without a bath.
He told all of his disciples that he would think for them. He told them he was morally equal to Gandhi, also intelligent [or a little smarter] than Einstein and a slightly better athlete than Jim Thorpe.
He was also an expert in judo and a concert-level pianist.
On occasion, when in the mood to rant and pontificate, Raniere held what he called “a forum.”
Without warning, he would tell Nancy Salzman, Pam Cafritz, Clare Bronfman, etc. that in an hour he would report to the Propos or Nxivm office in New Karner Road and anyone who wanted to come and see him could do so.
The women phoned each other and called all the local Nxians. The Nxivm culture was such that each of them gave up whatever they did – because not showing up would demonstrate that they weren’t really engaged in their growth. Raniere lectured for as long as he wanted, offering a good serving of word salad, then let his servants ask questions. At the end of the forum, if he was in the mood, maybe he would choose a slim young lady and offer to privately counsel her with his ejaculate.
It looks like the back of Nicki Clyne’s head.
Next to Raniere was Nancy Salzman, who was revered as Prefect.
In 2008, Raniere had the brilliant idea that if the Dalai Lama came to Albany and supported him, it would give him credibility and end the accusations that he was leading a cult. Initially, the Dalai Lama accepted the sum of $ 1 million. Then because of the bad publicity of his appearance on stage with Raniere, he canceled the trip.
Frantic, Raniere, Nancy Salzman and Sara Bronfman with her lover Lama Tenzin boarded a plane and rushed to Dharmasala to try to persuade the Dalai Lama to reconsider his decision – bringing the donation to two million, according to sources.
Keith Raniere watches the Dalai Lama intently trying to understand how he, a psychopath, can get the Dalai Lama to persuade others that he is a holy man.
In front of the Dalai Lama, Keith lied about the claims of being an evil sex cult leader. He claimed his accusers were trying to stop him with lies just like the Chinese did to the Dalai Lama. The argument, plus the two million, was persuasive, the Dalai Lama agreed to come to Albany.
Humble Keith greets the Dalai Lama in front of Sara and Nancy. What the Dalai Lama did not know then was that Sara was having sex with one of her best monks, the phony who arranged the meeting, Lover Lama Tenzin.
Lama Tenzin was supposed to be a monk, which means he takes a life vow of poverty and celibacy. Lama Tenzin was the Dalai Lama’s envoy to the United States. He came to Albany to help organize the visit of the Dalai Lama and soon after, Sara Bronfman wowed him. Keith knew and Nancy knew. The only one who didn’t know was the Dalai Lama.
They flew on a private jet, Bronfman footing the bill. It was idyllic. Lama Tenzin could take advantage of his wealth and his nubile body while posing as a monk in front of the Dalai Lama to make him endorse the rascal in the back of the plane.
When Sara greeted the Dalai Lama, she did not tell him that she had seduced her monk.
It was Nxivm. Nothing has ever been right. Nothing honest. Always a tip. Always deception.
And the main actor in the deception that brought the Dalai Lama to Albany was Sara Bronfman.