Gangstalking Chronicle: July 2011

Thursday, July 28, 2011

I knew Kathleen had obtained access to my e-mail account.

That case is taking a while to get here. Sorry about that. It takes time to brew a good beer.

In the meantime, I'm going to start working on the book query. I had abandoned this idea, but since the other day's second suggestion of "always being nervous," I've come to the conclusion that I have no other recourse. For a while there I was getting hounded about "looking for a job." Well, since I've got nothing to keep me busy, my new job is securing a publishing deal. How about that? Do you think it's a good way to spend my time? Go ahead--make me nervous some more. Irritate me and aggravate me. Tease me and taunt me.

Since everyone loves being so, so deep in my business, I guess I'll stop fighting it and invite your input. I've got some good ideas for the first line of the query which will likely be the first line of the book as well. I'm going to list them here and input is welcome in the form of replies. If I get enough, I'll count them up and the line that gets the most votes will win. Here's what I've got so far:

I knew Kathleen had obtained access to my e-mail account.

"I'm not the doctor; the doctor will be in later."

Father Dave wore an angelic smile as he handed me Carrie's Prom picture.

The third time Christine bragged about the sharpness of her knives I started to get concerned.

When I met my sister's best friend's army roommate while walking my dog in Central Park, I figured it was just another New York coincidence.

Marc just wouldn't stop asking me about guns.

It was some time around 2001 when Darby warned me I'd been declared "fair game."

I hardly knew Marty, but he was quite concerned with finding me a girlfriend.

Laura's husband was strangely effeminate.

I know damn well that FBI agents know how to identify a doctored photo.

They were literally playing a game with me, and as far as I can tell, still are.

I met Ed Torpedo at a coffee shop while he played Chess with a friend.

Candy told me they were trying to fix us up.

I'm going to add to the list in this post as new possibilities come to me. There are just so many ways to do it. Please check back at your leisure. It will be a great foil for me while the case is brewing. I put the one about Kathleen first because I think it's the best. It uses very few words to suggest a world of things without giving anything away. Instant drama; instantly intriguing; makes you want to read the next sentence and foreshadows one of the most important aspects of the story: invasion of privacy. I also like the last one for similar reasons. As I said, though, I'm open to input. I don't need any help with the title. I've got the absolutely ass-kickin'ist perfect title and have for some time. It's unbelievable how good it is.

There's something else I must add here. I've noticed over the past year or so that there have been a select few people who enter my vicinity who apparently have good intentions, and there was one who mentioned a connection to a publisher. But see, it's that "always nervous" thing that's a problem. As I mention, they isolate the subject with defamation so they're starved for human contact. You'll talk to almost anyone. So they send covert operatives to fill it. But there's one key aspect of it I haven't mention that really adds to it. A major part of what they'll do is send someone who they know you might have a convo with. Of course, they know you'll talk to them, but in these particular instances, they carry on a full convo about something they know interests you, sometimes for a long time, making you think they're not actually part of it as you so badly hope for. Then, at the last minute, before you part, they'll drop a hint alluding to something in your private life that you never mentioned, the main method of letting you know they're part of it and fucking with your head. It's a main tool in adding to the isolation by making the subject afraid to talk to anyone. It's difficult for me to explain just how much of a low-life scum-bag one must be to take part. I am quite proud of the fact that I've never taken part in such a thing and never will. But I mention this just to emphasize the fact that if you want to talk to me about a book deal or anything else, you need to directly and openly tell me your name, how you know about me, and why you're approaching me right off the bat; you know--a normal human introduction.

That's the effect of what they do. It destroys your ability to trust anyone--except your old television news buddies, of course.

;-))

I can't emphasize this enough: it is neither a game nor a joke to me.

Joseph C. Zoccali, Clearwater, Florida; Rick Wilson, Niles, Ohio; Christine Faranda, Cleveland, Ohio; Len Spector; Marc Greece, A&E Networks; Reverend David Plank, Palatine Bridge, NY; Carrie (Plank) Bruno, Queens, NY; Cynthia Green, Tech Recruiter; Sioux Logan, Red Stream Technologies; Mike Tricario, MTV; Sean Newman, Columbus, Ohio; Jim Reed, Columbus, Ohio; Zynga; Marty Eggert, Cleveland, Ohio; Kathy Haxton, Cleveland, Ohio, St. Joe’s Medical Center, Warren, Ohio; Coleman Professional Services, Warren, Ohio; Laura McCormick

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Well...Isn't That Special?

Still chokin' on that last one, eh, ladies? It's quite a pickle I put ya in, isn't it? Hey, my understanding is that all you female psychologists harassing the shit out of me wanted to change me; modify my "behavior," right? Well, congratulations--you did it. I've changed my ways, thanks to you. Good job! Otherwise, I will think exactly how and what I please. I know, it's difficult, but I promised ya something to wash down the blind scam and I shall deliver. It'll all go down in one big wash and then finally, you'll understand who you're dealing with. But first this little political sketch-comedy gem. It doesn't get much better...

It's my understanding Dana Carvey lives right up the road. Have you ever seen him do a stand-up routine? I never had until a few years ago when one was floating around on Comedy Central or something. Before that, I didn't know he did stand-up. I laughed hard pretty much throughout the act; side-splitting stuff. He might never get his fair due in the annals of comedy history, but living North Bay surely makes up for it, right? Maybe you should get him to come down and harass me a little since I'm an independent thinker. We can talk about New York and chop some broccoli.

Another thing I want to mention that I guess I haven't made clear to all you folks having such fun playing this manipulation game with me, is that I am aware of the1st-person "suggestions" meant for me to absorb unconsciously. I know that the isolation creates a human interaction vacuum meant to make the person "highly suggestible" and thus vulnerable to such things without their knowledge. Hold this thought: I have been conscious of this for some time and have therefore rendered it ineffective. Today a guy--a guy--sat near me at Peet's, and in the middle of phone conversation in another language, said, "I don't belong here." in English. Yesterday, a fella who never comes stopped by the library to use a computer and loudly said completely out of context, apparently to no one in particular, but well within my earshot, "I'm always nervous at the library." Bummer for him, eh? I wonder why. I'm always calm at the library and I do not see at all what might make one nervous just by being there.  Last year while I was working on a blog post at a deli on Post Street, a woman came in not long after I got there. She sat right next to me in an otherwise empty room and had a phone conversation in which she said with a little extra volume, "And I'm always nervous." Your game is a joke and so are you.

Folks...I am way past this shit. None of these things effect my decisions, actions, or most definitely my thoughts.  I do not communicate this way and I recognize none of the content of such suggestions as valid or consequential in any way. Walking quickly or standing nearby while wearing extra heavy perfume or cologne doesn't effect me either. Other times they'd send people with terrible B.O. in reaction to something I did.  People acting strangely when they've got me "cornered" in the elevator doesn't effect me either. All, subtle input meant to manipulate by way of positive or negative reinforcement made effective by the vacuum created by the isolation.   I see all. It does not work! My message has gotten through. Please stop wasting your time. I can tell that the positive feeback I'm getting today is aunthentic. It's all over but the cryin'. I'm not your fuckin' toy and you're going to learn that.

In another cryptic hint, my brother-in-law once said, "You have to pick a side." Indeed, it appears that part of the goal of all of this is to pigeon-hole me into joining some "secret group" to take part in these stupid political spy games by harassing me.  I like to write and I read a series called "Best American Essays." When you write you become analytical and see things that other people do not. You look at both sides. Adam Gopnik touched on this in intro to a recent edition of the collection when he wrote that a writer inherently sees something "silly in the business of taking sides."

But...since you insist...

Broadly, the main group I identify with is a diverse one made up of non-discriminatory, open-minded, educated, intelligent high-level media and journalism professionals who are positively above all these stupid-ass, petty little gender/race games. Male, female, black, white, in the bulk of my professional experience all of these things simply were not issues, and those folks will peg you as discriminatory the second you walk in the door. I got along great with female superiors and a diverse set of co-workers, and my career was going just fine, but some far-right folks were worming their way into my life and eventually I ran smack into a Nazi who harassed me into losing my last job. This story is the "case of 1845" on its way. I promise you, you are going to love it and look at me differently once you've read it.  They played me good and hard. The whole thing is a scam. Also, through all that time, I was subject to a steady stream of the covert psych stuff like the 2 women having the conversation at BW3 about how worthless a Communications Degree is. It's such a good example of what they do. I was specifically targeted without my knowledge and it wore on me. I didn't know. Now I do.

The seed of all of this is a mixed relationship, but I am fully aware that the main fuel that continues to drive it is Schadenfreude that just rains on me because of envy, making it that much more important that I get in with my crew. Indeed, it's an attack on me just for being me.  Johnny no like that. More specifically, then, I identify with the men within that media group, but let me tell you this: In my professional experience, the men and women joke to each other about gender/sex issues because of the sheer pettiness of it.  Yes--I was accepted in that group and I will return to it.  Like I said...I'm gettin' in with my crew. We're above harassing people and I'd take 10 of us over a 100 of you any day of the week. I repeat: the right people are hearing my story and I'm getting authentic positive feedback. Deal with it.

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

A Note on Politics

I don't really care much for politics. I think I may have mentioned somewhere along the way that when I read the paper, I generally skip "Politics" sections. I observe a few things here and there and maybe write about it just for kicks.

During the primaries leading to the '08 election, I was living in an area decimated by the post-industrial down-turn that started in the 70s with one day they call "Black Monday" when about 10,000 steel-workers lost their jobs.   I've noticed that political ads for candidates tend to take 1 of 2 angles. Either they reflect the mood of the area in hopes of identifying with constituents or go the other way to emphasize a need for change. That's a bit simplified, but I'm a simple-minded type guy.

As I said, I don't follow politics much, and at the time, Barack Obama was an unkown quantity. I'll admit, I wasn't crazy about his "typical white people" comment.  I don't recall what the one thing he said or did was that cinched it, but it took all of about three months after his election for me to become a fan of the guy.  During the primaries, in my "immature, rubish" naivete, I thought Hillary Clinton might make a fine president. Note: This was after my experience with psycho lawyer bitch. I noticed that one of Clinton's ads was really, really bleak in tone and I thought that things were so bad in the area, that such an ad was likely the wrong angle and the only way to appeal to folks there was with an ad that presented a feeling of hope. I sent the Clinton campaign an e-mail* letting them know this and maybe it was a coincidence or maybe it wasn't, but I noticed a change in the tone of her ads pretty much immediately. I'd be curious to know if her numbers changed at that point.

I had mentioned to my father, who I knew was a bit of a racist, that I was backing Mrs. Clinton and he shocked me a bit when he said he would rather see Obama as President.**  Slightly incredulous, I asked, "So you'd rather have a black guy than a white woman?" He confirmed.

My family fucked me around quite a bit and ol' pops played a key part in it, but I have to say he was on the money on that point.  I guess in some ways all you folks calling me immature are correct. Thank you for setting me straight. I promise--I've grown up:

Black, white, yellow, brown, Democrat, Republican, Martian, I don't give a shit--as long as it's a guy.

* I bet this wouldn't be hard to confirm. Ya know what?? I might still have it. Let me check.
No luck...it must have been in one of my previous e-mail addresses. I had to keep changing them because I knew people were getting in them, mainly my completely insane radical feminist biological mother. Oh, well.

** I changed this because after re-reading I recalled that we were specifically talking about being President.

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Monday, July 25, 2011

Columbia University Press

Heyyyy--these guys have been printing books since 1893.

How about that?

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Friday, July 22, 2011

My Laundry Buddy

This fella likes to harass me at the laundromat. I just happened to run into him today. How about that? His sentence you hear the first few words of at the end of the clip is, "Do your laundry today?" (He actually smiled...LOL.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xcLZU8cbXII

Amendment to the last post: Just to be clear: I see how these manufactured encounters are rigged to portray me in a bad light--another scam just like the BW3 thing but simpler. I see the whole thing and do not care if you think I am rude. I give what I get. I am perfectly capable of gauging when it is appropriate for me to be rude and these attempts do not phase me. ;-))

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

The Stupid Game Continues

I am not obligated to share my reserved computer time with someone who just comes up to me and asks to do so "for just a couple minutes to print something" at the library when there are other computers specifically for such purposes. I do not care in the least that they walk away acting as if I'd done something wrong by declining. I'm wayyyyy past that part of the game. It and the people who do it are a joke.

I am not obligated to grant requests for favors from complete strangers on the sidewalk.

I am not obligated to answer questions about height from each idiot you send at me to do so.

I am not obligated to provide cigarettes to each idiot you sent to do that, nor am I the time-keeper for the city of SF. A guy once stopped me and asked very rudely what time it is and before I had a chance to answer he called me an asshole. Here's my blanket answer to that question:

Time to buy a fucking watch.

I will defy each and every stupid-ass little test as is my right. This injustice and harassment will end... I promise. You're tanglin' with the wrong guy. I will continue to move forward to solve the situation as I please regardless of all the little "random" manipulative feedback and tests. I see it all and I am far beyond it. These instances where people initiate encounters are easily recognizable I will continue to intentionally skew the results. Keep wasting your time if you want.

Anything else?

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Self-Important, Delusional SF Behavior Adjuster

Before I give you that tasty case to wash down the blind-person scam, I need to take care of a small, insignificant, by and large inconsequential piece of business.

I am an equal-opportunity justice seeker. Like I said--black, white, yellow, or brown, if you are following me around and/or are part of the illegal, abusive treatment that has been applied to me with intent of "changing" me, you are guilty of stalking and harassment and are my enemy.

This guy made a couple comments to me indicating he's part of it, likely in the same capacity as Kayla Marriott. He walks around like his shit doesn't stink. One night I got in the elevator at the SFPL. I think it was likely right around the time I figured out just how far back the blacklisting goes, which, or course, frees me from any and all of the intentionally induced, manufactured guilt, such as that of the BW3 incident described in the last post. This guy was the only other person in the elevator on that trip. After the doors closed, he looked at me and said, "Are you as mad as you look?" I firmly replied, "Madder." He sighed, rolled his eyes, and kind of shuffled his stance a bit and said, "Ho-kayyyyyy." as if he was exasperated and letting me know that the treatment will continue as long as I'm angry. Anger turned inward creates depression and each and every one of you fuckheads are positively kidding yourself if you think I will continue to turn my anger inward. As long as I'm breathing, I'll continue to pursue justice...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sq8DpUrZia4

I saw this guy jump on the bus heading up Larkin just outside the library once, but I didn't really find any significance in that. It didn't fit. The other day, I saw him walking north on Franklin, past Walgreen's carrying a bag full of groceries. His demeanor, the situation, and the neighborhood tells me there is some significance in this. And, maybe it's a coincidence or maybe it's not that that just happens to be right in the same neighborhood as ol' Kayla Marriott.

Do you like playing this game with me?

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Nor Be Deprived of Life, Liberty, or Property, Without Due Process of Law

There's no trick to it. It's just a simple trick!

                                                                                      --Brad Goodman

As I mentioned earlier, it appears that posting the story here is having a positive effect to some extent, despite the egregious unconstitutionality of what you are doing. This is a copy of an e-mail I just sent to some "friends":

It's become obvious that these Brave-New-World behavior adjusters (who are going to learn to mind their own business) have made me the subject of little false scenarios meant to test me and see how I react. They use actors and through a kind of innate sense, I can tell, in what I suspect to be nearly every instance, that these situations are, in fact, charades. At some point, it became evident that they were setting me up with encounters with blind people including one very early upon my arrival in SF at Peet's at Vaness and Bush where the manager there named Wayne and a woman named Kayla Marriott both harass me. At some point along the way, someone made a direct comment about being mean to blind people.

In 1994, I worked as a bartender at the BW3 bar and restaurant on south campus at OSU. The chain is now called Buffalo Wild Wings and the exact location where I worked no longer exists. The manager there was a guy named Matt and, like many of the people I now know are involved in the situation, was always an ass to me and I didn't know why. As I look back, it's clear that of the "good ol' boys" involved, he was by far the most "good ol' boy" of them all. Ditto for the head manager, a guy named Paul. They were country-boy buds.

One night a guy came in to the bar who was blind. He was with a woman. I didn't see him come in and I had finished dealing with another customer when I looked over and he was already standing at the bar. He wore no glasses and pressed himself very tightly against the bar, which I thought nothing of at the time. Like any other customer, I focused on his face. He already had a bill on the bar underneath his fingers. When I approached him, he leaned forward . His left eye was clearly distorted, but, as I recall, the other wasn't nearly as bad. It was striking and impossible to not notice as his face was unusually close to mine. It was slightly disconcerting (the reason blind people tend to wear shades), making it nearly impossible to notice anything else. I had no idea whatsoever at this point that he was blind. I believe the bill was a 5 and he asked for 2 beers. Whatever it was, the bill he had ready was insufficient to cover the cost of what he asked for. It may have been a 1, I'm not sure. The point is, I had no idea he was blind and I thought it was some kind of short-change scam so I kind of sarcastically said, "Come on man, that's a five (or a one, whichever) you're giving me." He then said very loudly, "What, can't ya see I'm blind?" and may have added, "I have my cane right here!" I looked down and saw pressed into his stomach as he hugged the bar, the cane's handle and maybe and inch of the shaft visible above the edge of the bar. I was positively mortified. (I have a witness, motherfuckerrrrrs.) But there's a more important point...

Matt was standing right behind me and when I turned and looked at him, he actually made a sarcastic, exaggerated feigned look of surprise before mockingly waddling over to the CIA secret persecution file book to "write me up." This happened right as I my shift was ending and my replacement, Ron, was behind the bar and saw most or all of the incident. When Matt headed for the book, Ron followed him and pleaded for me, saying, "Oh, come on, Matt--it was a mistake. He didn't know." Matt waved him off and smiled the whole way through. I don't know whether Ron knew at the time that it was a scam, but he knew the truth about my end of it and my reaction. I snuck out the back-door completely distraught and have felt terrible about it ever since.

If he didn't have a system for identifying his bills, as most blind people do, why didn't his friend help him? Presenting money at a retail establishment was a new experience to this guy who was at least 35 at the time? I doubt it. He distracted me with his uncovered eyes by pushing his face forward while at the same time using very, very non-blind body language and actually concealing his cane. Nevertheless, as I look back, it is Matt's reaction that's key, here.

There was also an employee there named CJ or DJ or JD or JC. I'm pretty sure it was CJ, but I'm not positive. He was originally from West Virginia and he didn't like me either. The blind gentleman looked a lot like CJ. I noticed this and had a sense something was wrong with all of it, including Matt's reaction, but I had positively no idea what was going on at the time and didn't see the setup, plus, I was just really, really upset about it.

End of e-mail

Now, then, would be an excellent opportunity to point out that everything you've been doing for that past few years, or who knows how long, is quite unconstitutional and that my situation is an absolutely perfect example of part of the reason the 5th amendment exists and why we have courts where you have to prove stuff beyond the word of one guy in one instance. (There's another thing called "preponderance of evidence" I intend to cover here as well.) You're justifying what you've done because you "heard" I had been "mean to a blind person" going on the word of one man, who it turns out was part of a scam to fool you into harassing me. As of yet, I have not officially been able to plead my case. Pay attention, especially all you upstanding, super egalitarian, peaceful, social, highly educated and intellectual San Franciscans taking part in my persecution: you are going on the word of the racist manager of a midwest hole-in-the-wall wing joint that is actually the product of a scam perpetrated by him that is in turn part of a much larger scam conducted by a network of racists. HOLD THAT THOUGHT!   It's absolutely amazing how good an example this is of why the title of this post is included in the 5th amendment.

Here, I will add that some folks have implied that none of this is anything new and that it goes on all the time, implying that I shouldn't complain or try to resolve things. 2 points: If someone's around with a similar story to mine (you haven't heard the best of it yet), I'd absolutely love to get together and compare notes; and if you've been the subject of such treatment and just laid down and accepted it without fighting it every way you know how, that's your fault--not mine. In fact, I did try to "just forget it and move on" by volunteering at a non-profit in the hopes of networking and starting over, but I wasn't treated so well, there. I've been left with no choice but to pursue a legal solution, as unlikely as it may seem, and to continue telling me story. If this is the "American way" and something that is accepted and I'm just being quite naive, then cut me a check for my 20 years of trouble and I'll be most happy to be on my fucking way.

I also find it worthy of note that in a story of blacklisting stemming from an interracial relationship, here we are talking about blindness. Gnaw on that one and get back to me.

There have been many death threats. As long as I'm breathing, I will continue to pursue justice. My behavior is none of your business. I see how you send "thugs" from different "mobs" in response to my "private" e-mails. It is my goal to get back in with the tall, smart good-lookin guys mob and I promise you that when I do, you will want no part of me. And just for kicks, I should cover this now: I positively do not care what any women or any one thinks of the fact that I lead a promiscuous lifestyle between the ages of 18 and 25, when most normal guys do it, and I never will.  (You'll understand more after the next post.)

(I know, I know--the scam involving the blind person is a pill that's very difficult to swallow. Tell ya what: in my next post I'll provide you with a nice, fat case of Fuller's 1845 to wash it down.)

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Susanne Sarley

I recently had an encounter with yet another mislead, self-important individual who for some odd reasons think I am in need of insulting, patronizing covert suggestions of little things about life like "responsibilitiy", etc., which is an absolute joke. Here are the links she sent me:

http://www.myspace.com/423810376
http://www.facebook.com/dreamgypsyqueen

Why would she need two of each?...

http://www.myspace.com/gypsyqueenmusic
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Gypsy-Queen/41105724037?v=info

http://www.linkedin.com/pub/susanne-sarley/19/90/375

I communicated with her at (510) 712-6187 and through this e-mail: susannesarley@gmail.com

Black, white, yellow, brown, you will stop one and all.

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Unknown Skeevy Bicycle Stalker

I'm not sure what this guy's angle is, but he's got something to do with it, and as long as I figure out that you're following me around and not saying anything, you are guilty. He comes from the direction of the corner of Eddy and Laguna (I know because he intercepted me one morning at the corner of Turk and Gough and I saw him on his way.) on a black bicycle with bold white lettering on the diagonal bar and he almost always wears the same thing. I can't get the HTML embed code. I don't know why. I think it depends on the computer...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjoFsfhqo5c

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

Faces

I see all the set-ups or tests meant to bait me into a situation with the goal of portraying me in a bad light and I will continue to defy them on principle. I pegged the guy on the bus yesterday the second he opened his mouth. I didn't have to wait for him to later mysteriously jump up from his seat in the DMV waiting room to come sit right near me to confirm his role. It was also interesting how those 3 people in line behind me left after quizzing me about DMV procedures, enabling the guy from the bus to stand nice and close directly behind me during that hour-long wait in line. Yeah, and I was on to that CIA/FBI cunt who get on the bus at my stop while she was crossing the street.

Because of the emotional and mental abuse I've been subject to, and the ongoing interrogation that has gone along with it, when a complete stranger on the bus who reeks of alcohol asks me "Do you live here?," I am quite rightfully inclined to answer, regardless of the condition of his face, "It's none of your business," and will do so again.

A major, major part of the mind control I've been subject to is emotional manipulation including a barrage of traumatic images that are part of the PSYOPS and thin thread being used to psychologically torture me. By and large, it's meant to keep the subject depressed and unable to function.  Another major part of it is inducing severe emotional swings from good to bad. Some of it, though, is innocuous, simply meant to get your attention. Unless you've been through it, it's very difficult to grasp, which is exactly how they want it.   They establish a pattern and stretch it out over the course of weeks or even months and it's something no one else will notice. For a while, it was people wearing orange shirts. Recently, it was people wearing green shirts. They enter your proximity and make strange gestures to get your attention. Right around the time I figured out and started to break the mind control, they started sending people at me walking briskly, theatrically swinging a large paper grocery bag in each hand from opposite starting points, each nearly going horizontal at either end of the swing. They make it obvious to the subject. It was during that one that I learned to just look away. Those are just a few examples.

As I mentioned, the main point is to keep the subject "under a spell," as one op directly inferred to me, and to keep them depressed mainly through a steady stream of traumatic input. It's exacerbated by the denial of all comfort and normal, positive human interaction, all meant to keep your life as miserable as possible. They kind of make you a robot, or as yet another op directly mentioned, "a zombie." The public application of traumatic images mainly occur when I attempt to do enjoyable, social things, with the goal of spoiling everything I do. I joined a Euchre meetup group in town and while standing outside smoking a cigarette, a guy came by and asked to bum one before volunteering the info that his daughter had her face ripped off by a pit bull. I have to think it was a lie. Those cases aren't difficult to win, plus a precedent was recently set, but the comment has its effect. Sometimes I think another goal of such planned incidents is to devalue the level to which my life has been violated for so, so long--something that will never happen.

The latest pattern is about as far as I go and aptly illustrates the length to which these demented sickos will go. Believe it or not, it has become evident, lately, that I have been subject to a noticeably abnormally high frequency of close encounters with people whose faces are disfigured to varying degrees, including a recent one while I sat at a restaurant bar trying to eat an All-American sandwich on the fucking 4th of July. Their situations are clearly heart-wrenching and tragic, and when you're the subject of ongoing abuse and isolation as I have been with no "outside frame of reference" (as Jesse Mills so aptly pointed out the night after he invited me to a hole-in-the-wall diner where a striking black model struck up a conversation and then made a reference to getting shot in the head or having the back end of hammer buried in it. Oh, and she coincidentally showed up to say hi to me at Jazz fest, effectively reminding me of our conversation. I was able to beat that one down, though.), nor any authentic human interaction, these ongoing encounters are very effective in being nothing but traumatic and depressing. Indeed, the whole treatment is dehumanizing. I get the feeling that part of the rationale behind this is to simply expose me to such things.  If so, look up my cousin Andy.  He was born with water on his brain. My brother used to mock him openly at family gatherings. The ironic part is, that while I've been portrayed as such a monster, they're doing it because they know I'm by and large a compassionate, emotional person. You are bunch of sick, twisted fuckers and I don't work for you by my own will or awareness and never will. This combined with the street-punk ops making out in front of me is a bit too far.

These guys have all the most important major points and names involved in my story.

I'm also talking to these guys and this guy.

In light of thse recent developments, I'm going to start working on getting in touch with this guy.

If this little secret network of folks is so damn powerful then you can get to all those folks and buy them off, so I'll just keep sending e-mails. CBS has a little coin sittin' around, though. But why not just kill me to fulfill all the threats...please?

I also mention here that while they had me deep in the mind control early last year, no matter where I went, I had people suggesting I join Toastmaster's. One guy asked me if I'm a leader. I was constantly surrounded by political operatives and some folks I ran into at a job-networking club turned every meeting he had to politics. Mind control......Toastmaster's......constant political talk.  You add it up. And since I have no "outside frame of reference," how could I possibly confirm to myself all the outrageous things that have been suggested? I have no choice but to chalk it all up to PSYOPS. As I exist on, with broken teeth and a partially numb foot, I have to play it that way. I'm not really interested in politics and I see exactly what's going on. The goal of making it impossible to trust anyone has been successful. You isolated me to the point where I have no confidants, or at least didn't for a while. Someone can talk to me openly and directly. Why not send me something in the friggin' mail? You can trust the U.S. Post Office.

You've done nothing to make me strong or benefit me in any way and you'll never fool me into thinking otherwise. Indeed, you've made quite the fool of me and destroyed my life completely. I guess the fortunate thing at this point is that I've got nothing to lose, but I will not sit back and be subject to the pattern of folks whose faces have been sadly, tragically disfigured being trotted out in front of me, something that when compounded with all of my abuse I've absorbed is strictly depressing. I'd rather be dead.

I am not joking--about any of it.

Also, I'll mention again here that there's apparently a little network of "powerful," psycho radical feminist women in on the scam whose intention it is to coerce me into marriage. (Ya know--maybe their not necessarily all radical feminists. It occurs to me that the overweight angry women are quite possibly a little sect of their own, which might include the shrink from Boston. Who knows?) Not only do I see every attempt, but I'll go against it just on principle. But if it must continue, at least let it be ones who are in the friggin' league, for goodness sakes. I know they can't all be in the ball park, necessarily, but the Boston psychologist at Chevy's who tried to intimidate me and imply that she can have me arrested doesn't come close. I mean--I very nearly laughed out loud when she hinted at...her??....and.... me??!!...together????!! Bwahahahahahaaha!!! That is a very funny joke, kids. So funny, I almost puked. Send back the tall, extremely attractive black girl in jeans I saw once sitting in Peet's sideways in her chair with her legs spread while fiddling on her laptop and sucking on a pen who I made it a point to ignore.  She is the one and only exception. And btw, hammerhead chick from Munch Haven ain't that great.

Actually, I would consider Brooke Coollie, but I'm slightly turned off by the rapid-fire, probing, mind-tilling questions meant to facilitate mind control.  All of the attempts at manipulation through guilt and fear and mind control I find to be very disconcerting. It turns my stomach and I want no part of it. I figured out exactly what Brooke was doing that night: Use repetitive, probing, confusing questions to make the subject think real, real hard, always asking the next one while he's still wondering about the current one, thus making the confusion and wonder accumulate, effectively digging a hole to the subconscious before burying whatever info it is you want to. It's an apt metaphor. Yeah--figuring that out that night was key. And then the dental supply salesgirl at the night club, actually saying, "You have to be open.", as if I might have fallen for that at that point. And Brooke and all her bullshit about her boyfriend. And Leah with the insinuations of guilt as she nonchalantly moved in her toothbrush and shampoo!  The bummer is, I don't need to be tricked into paying attention like that.

I see all...

Kathleen Kashay; Erica Agyeman; Darcy Estes; Alison Victor; Tracy Dietz; Kaitlin McGaw;

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