IMG MGMT: A Reflection on the “Spiritual Archeologist” Klaus Dona

by Nicholas Cueva on March 23, 2015 IMG MGMT

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What will happen when the space-time portal opens and the alien overlords return to claim the species they genetically mutated into the ideal servants?

When the lost knowledge of free energy and mind control are given back to the “masters,” how will anyone be able to know?

I first became familiar with the work of “spiritual archaeologist” Klaus Dona while exploring pseudo-science on the internet. (I find it comforting to find others with similar compulsions and manias—perhaps secretly hoping that someday, someone will confirm my own delusions.)

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Don’t we all want to be the one of the people in the world who knows what’s “really” going on?

In his lectures, Klaus examines “unexplainable” ancient artifacts. He takes us through an abstract world of convoluted theories, showing how ancient stone tablets give evidence of

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In videos like Amazing Ancient Archaeological Artefacts,” “Hidden History 2014,” and “Lost Pyramids and Hidden Ancient Artifacts,” Klaus reveals his secret knowledge. Each production has the air of an academic presentation, as if he were a history professor. He uses a mixture of still, slow, and panning shots, all with a flat flair for lighting.

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Each object is presented with a sense of dry and dull authority, along with a striking energy just short of the numinous. To me, the effect is absolutely sublime.

klaus workKlaus, though, comes at us from some fractal arm of the art world, dubiously claiming to have organized exhibitions across the globe as the “Art Exhibition Curator of the Habsburg Haus of Austria.” (This doesn’t even make sense because the Habsburg Haus is a family, not a place, and not a museum). Beyond this tenuous connection to institutional art, his true authority comes from a following of true believers he has titled “whistleblowers.”


It is obvious that he, or someone, fabricated the objects in his presentations: objects share similarities, like poor craftsmanship and glow-in-the-dark paint. Though the videos show Klaus making blatant fibs—when and where objects came from—and quirky shortcuts—a lot of post hoc ergo propter hoc, begging the question, and so forth—he remains devout to his “archeology” and subsequent theories. To him, it is another version of science.

turn weird klaus

The above image “looks like the shroud of Turin,” has “no explanation of how it could be made,” and “is from South America and may be over 10,000 years old.” But after all the weird attributes Klaus ascribes to this rock, he states nothing of its meaning; he just skips to the next odd object. The lectures contain meandering statements, never pointing to a thesis, except, perhaps an unspoken one: “This shit’s weird, right?”

klaus chat

But why do I find him so fascinating?

I mean, we’ve all been visited by ghosts and aliens telling us to do things we didn’t know were possible, but Klaus takes this a step further than visions and faith. He manifests “evidence”—concrete objects verifying things for himself, and for the world.

That ability has granted Klaus some cachet in certain corners of the world. In fact, he used to be well known as an archeologist within the born-again Christian community. I remember being shown photos of humungous skeletons that he claimed to have found, presented to me in my Christian high school as factual evidence of the Nephilim, the giants in the Old Testament.

I find his work annoying and frustrating, the presentation simple and slight. The ultimate aim is to misinform the already mindless—yet I love every one of these objects. I shouldn’t, but I do. To me, they represent the confusion and insanity of life, and give me hope that anyone’s misguided psychology can have something redeeming. I see a reflection of myself in Klaus.

This is my love letter to you, Klaus.

Love Klaus 1


Love Klaus 2
Love Klaus 3Each one of these stones is a body.
One body sways and hiccups, and tells me how to travel in time.
Another leans and calmly gestures that an alien is coming back.

Lines, folds, wrinkles, ideas, cuts. I want to run my hands on the scars and ask the stones “Who did this to you?”

I want to take them back to my apartment, and place them under my plants.

Love Klaus 4Love Klaus 5Love Klaus 6Love Klaus 7Love Klaus 8

Love Klaus 9

orange klausKlaus, for all your talk of these objects’ antiquity, not a single one is broken. Not one fragment, or part among the collection. It’s as if you don’t have the nerve to smash your own creation. They are each too precious to you.

Just a few chips, and they would seem more certain…
A shard could confide a personal history to the object.

The history you’ve giving us is not that of the objects, but of you.

klaus eye stone

Can you find enough stones to throw to stop the river from flowing?

klaus head

Did you hear the one about the blind men in the room with the elephant? No? Well, it’s a lot like finding an artifact and not knowing what it is you’ve found.

holeWhere do you keep these objects? Do you bury them? Are they in a vault? Did you throw them away, so no one could ever test you?

“Unless I can see the marks, and put my hands on them, I won’t believe.” (John 20:25)

klaus gatorCan we just imagine how, in tens of thousands of years, when the trash piles we’ve made have eroded, that they will be found, loved, and cared for once again.

Perhaps then they will be perfect, perhaps then they will be broken.

klaus curvesTo run a finger along the cold curves and pretend to know what it feels like to be a stone, and to be more than a stone: a celestial being, capable of anything. Eternal.

grayish klausIsn’t this what we want for ourselves? To be treated well? To be understood (misunderstood?), or at least have a team of experts try to understand us? To be found and cared for?

For “this” to last for as long as we can, for forever?

frightening realization

Ebenezer! I have a frightening realization.


You belong in a museum!


Klaus, you have undertaken a magnum opus, to invent the world all over again, and to come down the mountain over and over, like Moses with the tablets. But you never break the tablets and you never strike the stone, and perhaps because of this you may still enter the promised land.

You become both a god and prophet. 

yellow tablet


I was always looking somewhere for truth. Little did I realize it was inside all along. Inside a cave, under the sunk and buried lost city of Atlantis. sunken continent of Mu.


I hate you. I love you.

Yours forever,

“Only the one that hurts you can make you feel better
Only the one that inflicts pain can take it away”


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