Tuesday, February 5, 2013

"John's Watchful Comedian" / "John's Consecutive Essays"

This is a diary of strange experiences and revelations about my past I've had in recent years related to the fact that I've been the subject of real, covert anti-Christian, anti-American, socialist brainwashing.  I created this diary because I've filed reports about my situation with all levels of authorities and have been ignored.  Those behind the brainwashing are trying to bury me.  Apparently, I've been framed for some of the worst things a person can be accused of.  It is also their goal to portray me as insane.  I created this diary in the hopes of clearing that up and providing proof of my claims, much of which I have.  If you haven't been following along, this will be incoherent to you as it's not in any particular order.  I just make an entry when something regarding my 25 years of covert targeting occurs to me.  The same goes for Diary II, which is a continuation of this post.  Instead, for a good summary, read my About Me page.  For more, see my blog post, Anti-Christian, Anti-American, Socialist Brainwashing. However, you may be in interested knowing about...

This Post's Title

John's Watchful Comedian
The title of this post is a reference to the best example I have of how the internet is being used against me as a mind-control device and to harass and torment me.  Amazon.com has something called an Express Checkout Payphrase.  Before you choose one for yourself, the field contains a generic sample.  One might expect it to be a year or a city or your dog's name, etc.  I've seen two that aren't so generic, one being a reference to the fact that I have no privacy whatsoever, the other apparently being a reference to some of my earliest blog posts, both shown here.  (It was shortly after I started my blog that I started experiencing overt harassment including veiled death threats.) 
John's Consecutive Essays

My Internet (Click to enlarge and scroll):

Weight Loss Ad with Bug-eyed Baby  ???

Proper Amazon Results for "Pictures on a Page?"

25-year-old Actress Named John John?

Youtube Similar Videos Mismatch
Public Computer Search for CIA Doctors

An Oldie But A Goodie

A major part of what those playing a game with me are doing is to bombard me with clues that lead to certain things.  A major method to deliver a clue is to follow me on Twitter.  The info in their bio is the clue and it's often meant to taunt me as well.  This person started following me on July 4th of last year:

"Chicago Trader"

This person started following me just a few days ago:

"Chicago Trader" 2

I haven't been able to find any significance to this other than S.W. Strouss and I now know who my parents are so I'm done following clues.  I suspect that this clue and the most common and useless clue of them all, "chef," are definitely significant and possibly refer to the prick who's directing all of this.  So...if you're so inclined...read my most recent post, "S.F. Man Claims He's Jackie-O's Son" again, and use your deductive skills and good old Google to see if you can find out who the "chef" and/or "Chicago trader" is.  I really don't give a shit.
"Good news is coming!"The gentleman on the right in this video, an acquaintance I've spoken to only in passing, told me once about four months ago that "Good news is coming!" and said the same thing again a few weeks ago.  Curious as to how he would become privy to such information, I asked him about his source, but he wouldn't say.  The first time he told me that, he prefaced it by suggesting I read a recent news article about JFK.

Behavior Adjustment by Muzak
I spend a lot of a time at a certain Burger King.  For the better part of the past 4 years, at that Burger King, the Muzak was kept at a very, very loud volume and all the songs had lyrics about behavior, introspection, learning a lesson, etc.  A few months ago, it went silent...possibly right around the time I first posted about Jackie-O.  What's really interesting, though, is that when I arrived yesterday morning, at the same time I always do, Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" was playing at a very very low volume. The fundamental basis of the mind-control I've been subject to is just such emotional manipulation.  Whichever direction it's in, positive or negative, they're always attempting to manipulate me somehow.  They simply will not let me be.  It's a very troubling thing conceived and executed by very, very sick minds.

I have no apologies and I most definitely didn't need to be "taught" any lessons.  I see the set-ups dating back to before I ever set foot in New York City.

Security Job Offer
I've been making visits once or twice a month to the Welfare Office here in SF.  A certain very tall, white security guard there likes to taunt me as so many of those involved in my persecution do.  Yesterday, when I was there to sign the papers to move out of the shelter and into a small single-room apartment, as some operative posing as a welfare recipient--neck-brace and all--at the desk next to me made an obnoxiously loud scene marked by terrible acting with the intention of disrupting what I was doing, that tall security guard ran over, interrupted my conversation and asked with a tone of urgency whether I was interested in a security job.  "It pays $14 an hour!  We love tall guys!"  I said, "Sure, do you have the application?  I've done security work."  He asked if I had the guard card as required in California.  I responded that unfortunately, I do not as my security work was in Ohio.

Isn't that interesting?  I happen to find job ads on Craig's List that are positively harassing, I get stalked anywhere I go to attempt to network into a job, but all of the sudden, when I'm about to move out of the shelter because I'm one of the very few well-"behaved" people there, a $14/hour job very nearly falls in my lap!

Muzak Switch
Also regarding Muzak, you would not believe the number of times I've sat down at Starbucks and a song ends abruptly in the middle and the theme of the music switches completely, usually to raunchy B.B. King-style blues.  It really is something.  Just now, it switched from Christmas music.

The people doing this to me make my internet load very, very slowly.  I always use Firefox.  The other day, I though, "Let me try Explorer and see what happens."  Sure enough, the first few clicks loaded quickly as you might normally expect.  Even photo results in Google only took a second or two to load.  Then, suddenly, loading got abnormally slow like my Firefox usually is.

Intercepted Calls
Yesterday I called someone.  She says she called me back yesterday and that someone answered and hung up right away.  My phone never rang and there is no record of the call in my phone.

More Clues
For those following along, here's another set of clues that apply to one person.  This person has a degree from M.I.T. and a degree from Harvard.  That might not be so uncommon, but this person is associated with the city of Pittsburgh, a place Crazy K2 likes to call "her town."  I believe he lived there for a period, though I'm not sure because I only got the clues from some guy at a bus stop.  Figuring out who that is shouldn't be very difficult for someone with resources.  I suspect it could be the person who's actually behind "The Game" and/or all the mind-control stuff.  God, I love living in a slum because I've been manipulated into it.  It's not fun now and it never has been.  I never willingly agreed to any of this and I'll spill and spill and spill until I'm no longer living this way.

M.I.T., Harvard, Pittsburgh.

An old neighbor highly recommended this book to me and gave me his copy to use:

Thanks, Dale.

Happy New Year, everybody!

41 Jones, #201
The major advantage the group working covertly against me has is that they know who I am (and where I am all the time) while I don't know who they are.  I've lucked out on a few occasions are found ways to identify some of them.  For anyone who might be interested, I recently learned that one of the individuals who's stalked me the most lives at 41 Jones St., #201 in San Francisco.

It's mine, regardless...
Regarding this out-of-place video, I'll be honest:  I don't really give a shit.  Once my issues have all been addressed, maybe I will.

Memo to the angry fat women who are still stalking me and who think there's nothing I can do about it: You're in for a surprise.

True Clue Review
I thought now would be a good time to review some important clues.  I recently posted that someone involved is a graduate of both Harvard and M.I.T. and is associated with the city of Pittsburgh.  That's a big one.  Another big clue is "chef," but the granddaddy of all clues is, of course, "Chicago Trader" which came with the tag-line, "All you need to know." 

"Sorry, I Can't Help You."
Since I arrived in San Francisco, people have been dropping hints about me ending up with a large amount of money and I've gotten a lot of covert influence meant to encourage me to charitable.  Before all of this started, I certainly would have been.  Unfortunately, a certain phrase I've heard more than a few times has stuck with me and I'll be ready to use it whenever I have to.  I'd had an idea about what percentage of the money I have I would set aside for philanthropy.  In the event that I ever do end up with all that money David Plank and others are trying to steal from me, that amount I would give away will go down 1% every day I'm still in my current living situation, retroactive to January 1.  That's means that if 96 days from now, my situation hasn't been resolved, I won't be giving away a single penny.   

Peter Heldman

Peter Heldman, Proud University of Michigan Graduate

Arkansas PR 
I've learned to not trust anything I see on line, but you never know.  Some of it must be legit.  Why would a PR pro from Arkansas be looking at my Linkedin page?  Maybe the answer to that question is in here: http://www.mitchcommgroup.com/our-work/clients.aspx.  Then again, I've figured out that part of making me a mind-controlled slave is "training" me to find connections.  Let's see...what connection do I find here?  Hmmm...let me think real hard for a minute.  Well, I recall some San Francisco punk making a comment to me in passing about "knowing one's boundaries" shortly after I removed a picture of Bill Clinton from a certain blog post of mine.  I'm not trying to imply anything by that.  Just making a connection.  That's what I'm supposed to do, right?  There's actually one more connection.  Can you find it?  Here's a hint:  It's available in this blog.

The Goal of The Game
I wrote this before, but it should be included here.  I read somewhere that the goal of the game is to figure out the goal of the game.  Well, one thing is evident: someone is trying to bury me.  Therefore, it would certainly behoove me to unbury myself and it will be my goal to do so regardless of any other established goal.  I figure that if I can do that, everything else will fix itself.  If you think I can't do it, you positively need to reconsider.  I don't care who gets hurt or embarrassed or who knows what.  I don't.  

"Pay attention!"    January 13, 2014
Ohhh, ho ho...that was a joke, right?!  Where did you find that guy?  If he had half a brain he'd get with a Hollywood agent--he'd get parts soon and often.  Dude actually snuck in a Mets tickets-style "Pay attention!"  I remember when that stuff worked on me.  And as far as there being "no way out of it," I promise you, those responsible for trying to make that the case are going to seriously regret it.

This is him.  Name is Reuben, like the sandwich.  Must be a cop.

"Sometimes things malfunction."
There are so many different occurrences to remember!  If someone hadn't recently  looked at the old post in which I mentioned this (Over the last few days, someone has been perusing a lot of my old posts.), I would have forgotten all about it.  It should definitely be mentioned here.  This was when I first started living out of a van, spring/summer of 2010.  Mornings, I was going to the Salvation Army to shower.  Operatives were tormenting me daily in the locker room there.  I had a can of Edge that wasn't working quite right.  An operative, who happened to be African-American for those keeping track, was there that day and we'd exchanged hellos and I turned to him and mentioned the Edge.  He looked at me and said, with a very stern voice, as if he was trying to make it clear that he was referring to something else, "Sometimes things malfunction."  He was, of course, referring to me and that fact that they tried to make me a Jason Bourne-type guy.  I can explain how they did that, by the way. 
Here's how it goes for me these days.  I sit down at my computer and delete a few e-mails, post on Craig's List, and then realize that I have no reason to be on line, that I've got much more constructive things I can be doing.  This is very convenient because the on-line mind-control attempts, which Peter Heldman attributed to Scientology (false flag is a major aspect of my situation) have greatly increased recently.  The reason for that, of course, is that I've been doing some things that are obviously effective.  So, I'm killing three or four birds with one stone just by minimizing the time I spend on the internet.  I didn't realize until recently just how big of a part of what's been done to me the internet mind-control is.

Memo to the Journalist Working on the Story
I've got one critically important nugget and one or two others that are rather substantial which I have not written about and will divulge only when we speak in person.  The first one is a potential smoking gun in terms of who's behind it all corporate-wise.

Book Titles
Not sure why you continue to do that.  It's been years since I figured out the hypnosis/suggestion thing, thus rendering it ineffective.  I'm never curious about the self-importantly titled bullshit philosophy books you read in front of me.  I forget the titles and I will never read them.  I just had to renew Mike Piazza's autobio.  I'm not even half way through it.  That's where I'm at, reading-wise, and that's where I'll stay.  All I do is promote my blog.  By the way, if you think what I'm doing these days is futile, please...keep right on thinking that.  :-)

Movie Magic
The only way those working against me could get people to believe what's been suggested, as they apparently do, is with fabricated media.  I've written that there must be photoshopped still images out there portraying me in a very bad light and that my voice has been recorded and likely edited with the same intention.  It's been indicated to me that the trust is worth billions.  If that's the case, it would be perfectly believable that there is false video of me out there as well.  I mean, any angry drop-out could bang out a few mix-and-match pictures, but creating false video that's believable takes know-how and money.  It could be done without it, but if I have a twin or a clone as has been suggested, it would be that much easier.

I mention this now because my encounters with conspicuously loosely attended children continue.  The kid from yesterday bore little resemblance to his CIA/FBI parents.  They could digitally alter my actions in a video of such a scene with or without a twin, though they could probably do it more effectively with one.  I don't know what other value executing such a farce in my near vicinity could have.  They must be making false video of me.  How much might it cost to clone a human?  10 million?  20 Million?  I suspect such numbers are hardly significant in my situation.

Clarification: I wrote above that I don't see what other value such a farce could have.  Obviously, I've written a number of times that the primary purpose of such charades is entrap me for pedophilia under the hopes that I will pick up one of those those children and try to run--something that has never happened and never will.  What I meant to write above was that the only reason I can see that they continue to do it is for the purpose of making doctored videos.  You know what they say about people who do the same thing over and over again expecting different results.

Open Sore
The following screenshot is particularly disgusting--definitely among the top two or three of what I've seen.  The reason for that is that I'm hardly on line any more, so when I am, they want each hit to be more disturbing.  

Speaking of Steve Ludvickson
One thing I've noticed since all of this started is that a notably high number of people end up in my near vicinity who are "working" on their computer in what I can only describe as a non-Windows window.  Is that a "system window" or...?  I don't know and I don't care.  You can see what I mean in the video linked below.  Then I think to myself, "Here I am in Silicon Valley.  It might not be that unusual."  But the thing is, I've had a few direct encounters with stalkers/harassers who'd been paying extremely close attention to such windows while they were around me.  Most importantly though, Steve Ludvickson, who directly threatened me that I'd "better be liberal" would sit for hours doing nothing but staring at one of those windows.  So...maybe it's a coincidence that this guy just sat down next to me and maybe it's not.  For the record, I should note here that my brother-in-law once made a similar comment about turning conservative.

Moved next to me for no apparent reason; very obvious:

I really should 'splain.  A major goal of those stalking me, such as the guy in the above video, is simply to make me nervous just by virtue of their presence.  It hardly effects me at all now, but a few years ago it did.  A major tactic is picking up their coffee to take a drink and setting it back down often.  When you're really wrapped up in what they do, the clicking of the cup on the table kind of needles you in combination with the knowledge that they know your locale and have gone to it, which is stalking.  As I said, it doesn't bother me any more.  The thing is, I can tell how much fluid is in the cup by the sound of it.  This guy finished his coffee at least a half an hour ago, but he keeps picking it back up, acting like he's taking a sip about every 20 seconds.  He twice acted like he was finishing it off.  It's kind of funny, really, in a pathetic kind of way, of course.

Little Ludvickson
The great thing about this video is that it captures this person who harassed me briefly yesterday afternoon acting guilty, which I believe is more important than your being able to see that he clearly resembles Steve Ludvickson.  You can actually kind of tell from the back of his head, though.  Yes, this little fellow sneaking into a Starbucks, covering his face with his collar on a warm afternoon is likely weirdo Steve's brother.  I believe I've reached the point at which I have enough clips that show people acting guilty or doing something incriminating to warrant a collage.

Interesting Note on the SFPL
For everyone reading who's so interested in studying society and human behavior, here's an observation you might appreciate.  I'd been spending much of my time at the SFPL in the Jobs & Careers Center, not because I use it, but just because it's a nice room.  The other front corner room is nice too, but it's been mainly a menacing thug room for quite a while, so I'd only been going to it occasionally.  In the Jobs room, there was a small group of regulars and semi-regulars, including those who showed up to torment me occasionally.  For the most part, though, it was a a good room.  (Key word: was.)  There was an Asian student who came in to study every day, some black woman who rocks back and fourth in her seat and mutters to herself inaudibly while clutching and occasionally reading a small bible, and a few others who came to use the room for what a library room is for.  Then, I started spending a lot less time here and, lo and behold, a couple of thugs with no library etiquette took over.  I've mostly avoided the room, but on most of the instances I've looked in recently, there's been no one else there and the regulars are gone, including that poor girl that just wants to get good grades.  I'm sitting here today and these two guys have been having a casual, out-loud conversation as if it's their personal office and one of them made a menacing comment to me over the weekend when I peeked in.  I think it's great that San Francisco and the SFPL are so, so kind to folks who are struggling, but if you're going to do that, library etiquette classes are in order.  You might even call it a "behavior" issue.  I'm confident that there are more people than library officials would ever admit to who visit the library less than they want to or don't come at all because of the regularly menacing atmosphere there.

So, here's my quandary today: I decided today would be me day off from "signing" as the panhandlers call it.  I couldn't resist all those cameras in front of City Hall on my way to workfare, but that doesn't count--I was only there for ten minutes.  I wonder if those three or four cameramen really shot my face and sign or if they were just humoring me.  I think it was half and half.  I could tell the one guy knew what he was doing and was getting a good shot--started on the sign and did a slow tilt up and then down again; sign, face, sign.  A real pro, that guy.  Anyway, my quandary.  Part of the reason I do the...signing...so much is that I have nothing else constructive to do and I don't want to be on-line looking at gaping wounds and here I am in that same position.  (I also do it a lot because I know some very basic things about marketing.)  I need to identify all the spots where I can sit and get heavy foot-traffic.  There could only be so many.  I just talked to a guy who saw me downtown last week.  That was cool.

Okay, so I'm supposed to make connections, right?  I'm supposed to take all the vague little signs and figure out what they mean, divining answers from subtle details, etc., right?  I also have to go by the timing of things because I know I have no privacy whatsoever and that you watch every single thing I do on line and off and give me feedback accordingly.  Okay, let's see.  That black guy in African clothes who just tried to intimidate me was really nervous because...? (It was the northwest corner.)

A.) Something really good happened for John today. (Love the symmetry there.)
B.) Avvo, which I'd just visited, is a real website you can't stop and a fraud lawyer is exactly what I need.
C.) You know the compilation video I'm working on is both effective and entertaining.

Ya know, I've been forced to make a thousand guesses, many of which lead to nothing.  One guess that I haven't yet mentioned is that someone is concerned over my level of respect for the legacy of John F. Kennedy.  Knowing that, if I'd written a post on the anniversary of the assassination about the issue of the Vindicator covering it being the only one my parents had ever saved as I'd considered doing, I would have felt that it was self-serving.  Anything promoting my respect for the legacy would be so with my having the inkling that someone is concerned about it.  What do you want me to say?  I watched "The Men Who Killed Kennedy" really, really closely when they just happened to have me format it at A&E.  (The comments about the guy with the take-apart rifle near the train delivered by a blind guy were definitely the most compelling.)  I saw the Oliver Stone film on the subject and I thought it was very well done, one of his very best.  There was a time when I was interested in the mystery of it, but other things have gotten in the way in recent years.  I grew up in a Republican and conservative Democrat town with absolutely no knowledge whatsoever of my true biological background.  I've never really been so interested in politics.  I like reading news and keeping up on world events because I find it interesting and I want to be well-informed.  I'm just that way.  I went to JFK High School, and when you're that familiar with something, you might overlook it.  The first thing I saw every morning when I arrived at school was a portrait of JFK.  My young life was all about getting to the NBA starting in 6th grade.

So, I've got a few other things on my plate that, as far as I know, are completely disconnected from all of this, namely, Joey Zoccali framing me for t----rism, which I know he did. Why should someone in my position be concerned about someone worried about my respect for Kennedy?  I mean, really--it's a completely abstract and subjective thing compared to what happened on that trip Nancy and I made to Florida in 2003 which was quite, quite real.  Worse yet, I fear that someone is withholding information about a trust that is quite obviously mine  and which has caused me a great deal of trouble because of these concerns about the legacy.  Knowledgeable parties have been screwing with me for 20+ years.  I do not feel a burning need to kiss anybody's ass at this point.  If you must know, I've always been an independent Democrat and I've always respected JFK.  I never knew many of the details about his presidency, but have no memory of anyone ever saying anything other than that he was a very good president.  I recently read a 100-page book on Kennedy's presidency, a great primer, I thought.  What I got from that book made his handling of the Cuban missile crisis seem rather incredible, a shining moment in the history of the office.  My adoptive father was an independent Republican and our family was Catholic.  I recall asking him his opinion of Kennedy once.  These were his very words delivered with inflections I know from experience indicate sincerity:  "He was a good president, John, but I don't like the idea of having a Catholic in the White House."  I was slightly shocked and asked why.  He replied, "Because I don't like the idea of the Pope running the country." 

I'm not sure what you want me to say.  I fear that people think my life has been a cake-walk.  My adult life has been nothing but a struggle except for two or three decent years in New York.  Some network--I guess it's the revenge-of-the-nerds group--has been secretly insulting and disparaging me and everything I admire and respect since I was taking classes at Ohio State, intentionally making my life very difficult.  Gays used to harass me regularly when I was at Ohio State and I didn't know it was an organized thing.  That's quite ironic, considering that the main way Joey smeared my name to the Zoccalis when he found out I was going to graduate from OSU was to accuse me of being gay and then I would get in an argument with him in which I would both defend my masculinity and point out what a backward homophobe he is.  Nazis have been tracking me and causing me trouble for 20+ years because of a mixed relationship.  Then David Plank fingered me to the CIA because he wants all that money.  Fuck him and everybody else.  That's about where I'm at.  I will fucking muscle that money out of you.

Non-Windows Windows
The people I so commonly see who are engrossed with streams of text in system windows (or whatever you call them) on their computer screen are definitely on the internet.  Not all of their screens are black with green text like this guy's.  In fact, most of them are not.  I've seen a few that are black with white text, but most just have very small black text on some light, neutral background like white, gray, or pale blue.  As I recall, the window the guy in the middle of this video was looking at was light gray.  He is the only one of them who ever walked up to me and showed it to me.  Quite brash.  There was a single word at the bottom of the screen that was related to something I was thinking about a moment before.  He smirked and said the word.  I was worried that the video is to wide, but on second thought, I see that it's not that hard to tell what he looks like.  Neat, huh?  And as far as the way these guys act, there's really no better way to describe it than to say that they act like the dicks they are.

Got a few strange texts from this number last night, including this disturbing one: "You don't have to believe me now, but I've been aware of you since your time working as a p.a. in television."  Claims to be "my ally."  Tried to blame Truman Show on Scientology the same way Peter Heldman volunteered information that Scientology has mind-control software when I'd never said a thing about the subject.  Says he's from Antioch.  Have fun.

A few nights ago I was talking to a guy I've known here for a while.  He is the only person I've spoken to regularly since all this started who acts in a perfectly normal way to me, but I've suspected all along that he is aware of my situation.  When I ran into him, he said he didn't want to bother me because I have important things to do and I told him that I never have anything important to do.  He replied, "Maybe that will change in a few days."  Any of you smart-asses know what he meant by that?

Sioux Spotting  1-25-14
Would you believe I just saw Sioux Logan by the Ferry Building?  I couldn't think of anything good that might come from a confrontation, so I avoided eye-contact, but I know she saw me because she and her friend stopped before they got to the building and turned around and walked by again.

Telling Images Updated  1-26-14

Occasionally, when I speak to people about my situation, many of whom already know about it before they approach me and act as if they don't, the person will bring up a maternity suit and DNA.  I may have already written this, but I'm very confident that DNA is not an issue.  All of those women would not have been sneaking into my life and all these other things wouldn't be happening if there was any doubt regarding what motivates them.  Whatever it is, it must be mine, likely in the form of a trust that is actually in my name.  The combination of occurrences also tells me that a 5% fee would be enough to ensure that the great-great-grandchildren of any agent or lawyer or P.I. who might lead me to it would live quite well.  I suspect that as I gain traction with what I'm doing, individuals, mainly CIA ops, who know exactly where my money is are going to approach me, portray the meeting as a coincidence, and act as if they don't know where the money is and play it all up to be a big difficult process.  5% is the number I'm offering for the information you already have, Jack.  I'm sure you'll be very happy with it.

Note to self: Don't forget about Nancy.

Bill Doggett
I'm going back and reviewing some old notes.  This is interesting.  I'd met Bill Doggett, Curator, Archivist, Lecturer a few years ago.  He was following me around quite a bit, particularly at Quetzal.  Finally, he made some kind of comment to me about height and my "being a big guy, huh?" or something like that.  Then he gave me his card.  It's a little strange.  It's not very upbeat at all.  Nor is it very professional.  The background image is a really dark and gloomy black and white image of a driver's view of his rear-view mirror as he's driving down a country road.  It has a haunting quality to it, for sure.  Kind of reminds me of those movies I was encouraged to watch by my brother and Christine Faranda...and that screenshot with the haunted house (seen above)...and that screenshot with the scary kid's face (seen above), and...   Hmmmm...  This was when I was getting stalked and harassed a lot.  I thought I'd researched him then and didn't find anything, but now I see that he's one of the more high-profile individuals I've encountered.  I am definitely going to have to have a high-res scan done of his biz card.  Very strange.  Furthermore, I post his name on FB today, and, lo and behold, I get another comment from my Aunt Kathleen offering to do a DNA test, which, of course, would yield the same results as a parent of mine's would.  Fascinating stuff.

GSC Review
GSC has turned out to be a very useful tool.  One of Len Spector's friends, the only female in the group, suggested I start a diary.  Great suggestion!  Upon reviewing GSC, I've run into one important fact after another that I had completely forgotten about.  Wow--what a great suggestion. Thanks!

Here's where I'm at.  Either someone is addressing me openly and directly regarding the situation and I have money for quality dental work from a dentist I can trust or I'm showing my sign to crowds of people that are getting progressively larger.  It's one of the two and it's not really up to me.  Next, I'm going to start mentioning some names I met through Peter Heldman at the Episcopal Cathedral, where some old fuck in a douchebag safari hat insinuated that I'm a serial killer.  It's either that, or it was a veiled threat to frame me for it.

Julie M. Tran
Picking out some people involved can be difficult.  For a long time, I thought I was wrong about Julie M. Tran.  Upon review, I suspect that it is nearly impossible that I'm not right.  Since encountering Julie, I've written that an operative involved mentioned that I have a twin and that it has been suggested that I have been cloned.  The word, "cloning" actually appears on her Linkedin page.  Here's what I wrote a couple years ago: http://gangstalkingchronicle.blogspot.com/2011/10/julie-m-tran-bio-tech-pro.html.


I really want to add some items here, but I can't decide which one to do first, BART/NY Times girl, Peter Heldman recap, or "All I do is boss around 50-year-old white guys all day."  So many key things have been coming back up through GSC, that I'm compelled to complete my review of it.  I mean...Joey Z. lying to get my SS#.  Are you kidding?  Plus, all the "trainer" screenshots."  Lots to do.

Bill Doggett 2
Ya know, I look at Bill Doggett's website and I think, "He looks like a great guy; doin' good things."  Nevertheless, he fits in with a group that has been screwin' with me bad.  I mean, really--who the hell puts this image on their business card?  I see a connection: the imagery in the movie, The Ring, which Christine Faranda suggested and left me to watch alone. 

The three very best possibilities for who the trustee of my trust is are:

W. Culllen McDonald, who took over Louis Auchincloss' accounts at Hawkins, Delafield & Wood.  It is possible that Auchincloss was the original trustee.  I think I just got off the phone with McDonald's secretary.  If I was talking to his secretary and she does what she's supposed to do, he knows about me now, knows where I am and has my phone number and is obligated to notify me of the terms of the trust.

Maurice Templesman, who, if he is the trustee, I'm sure would be aware of my existence and identity.

Ambassador Caroline Kennedy, who I am quite sure is aware of my existence and identity.

Georgiana Slade knows about me, too.

As of this moment, I have not been notified of the terms of the trust.

Money, Damage, Peace
A various points, operatives involved have inquired about my desire for peace, as one did today before encouraging me to seek legal assistance in another country.  Until a couple of months ago, when I figured out who my parents are, obtaining peace and comfort for myself was my top priority, but now that I know what's going on, I've obtained a certain amount of peace of mind and I'm not nearly as helpless as I had been.  My number one priority is to secure my money that so many people are interested in stealing from me.  Next would be to cause damage to those who've caused me the most damage, and then, I think, peace for me will come.  I don't really care about peace for anybody else.  Also, I think I know exactly what "the experiment" is.

OSU Football and...Something in Chinese...??

The Catch and Windows Secrets
As I've mentioned, I've sworn off heavy reading, especially anything political.  After reading and thoroughly enjoying Mike Piazza's bio (Have I got a story for Mike about spurious accusations of being gay!), I've been on a bit of a sports book kick.  A couple of weeks ago, I was down to a choice of three: The Catch, Undefeated: Inside The Miami Dolphins Perfect Season, and The Best Game Ever.  I decided on Undefeated because I'd once gotten high with Larry Czonka's daughter, but knowing what I know now, I see that it's quite possible that she was lying.  Anyway, it turned that that book had a lot of politics, so I had to drop it about a quarter of the way through.  I switched to The Best Game Ever, about the watershed 1958 NFL Championship game between the New York Giants and the Baltimore Colts.  It was a good read, but not nearly as good as The Catch, Gary Myers' superbly written account of Dwight Clark's leaping grab in the back of the end-zone with less than a minute to play in the 1981 NFC Championship game.  "The Catch," as it's come to be known, not only propelled the San Francisco 49ers to their first Super Bowl, which they won, but sparked a dynasty that would last throughout the decade.  I'm only on the third chapter, but I can safely say that if I ever write a book, I hope someone says, "Hey, he writes like Gary Myers."

I don't want to give away to much, but I'll mention that the introduction is about the '79 draft, in which the Niners selected Notre Dame QB Joe Montana with the last pick in the third round.  The details about that year's draft and its relation to the Niners and the Dallas Cowboys, the victims of Montana-to-Clark magic that day, are enough to make it difficult for any fan who remembers the era to put the book down.  Myers writes of how Montana, known as "Joe Cool," was a known prankster on the team, something that kept things lose.  You've probably heard the one about the future Hall-of-Famer pointing out John Candy in the stands to his teammates while in the huddle before a crucial play in another big Niners game.  Montana says none of that was planned, though: "I was just being me.  I never tried to do something to intentionally loosen everybody up.  One thing that makes people more nervous is when they see somebody acting like they don't normally act."

I've written that the base goals of those persecuting me is to keep me in a constant state of fear, guilt, frustration, and anxiety.  Another base goal is, very simply, to keep me nervous all the time.  I've written that operatives sit near me and act strangely.  They signal the charade my rushing to a seat very near me amidst several empty ones as if it's for something urgent.  All things no one else would ever notice.  I experienced it in New York, but, though I noticed, it didn't effect me because I had a job I was dedicated to and worked very hard at.  That is what my brother-in-law Rick was referring to when my brother looked at him inquisitively and incredulously upon my arrival for a holiday in Niles not looking like a depressed basket case.  Rick replied, "I don't know, Joe.  I guess he's immune to it."  It's all meant to wear on you over time, but it wasn't working on me then.  They had to frame me for t----rism and pedophilia to make it work.  I should also mention that in New York, I didn't really notice the strange, spastic acts, but I definitely noticed people rushing into seats near me.  I thought it was just a New York thing and half-consciously started doing it myself, which, of course, is part of the goal of it all--to influence the person without their knowledge.

It's difficult to capture what these people do, mainly because the whole thing keeps you so discombobulated and desperate for normalcy that when they show up, you often just move to get away from it.  At least I do.  Also, what they do is often so subtle that it doesn't read on camera.  Now that I've figured out exactly what's going on which has brought me a great deal of peace of mind (Another major part of the attack is to keep the subject in a state in which they are constantly wondering about the many different things going on.  It's like a spell, or, more specifically, hypnosis.), the effect is nearly completely negated.  Luckily, the guy who rushed to the seat opposite me yesterday put on a charade that is discernible on video.  I think this might be the very best clip I have of this sort.  I cut it off before the point at which he put his glasses on for minute, kept doing exactly what he'd been doing without them, and then took them off again and continued in the same fashion.  The book he's reading so intently is a Windows Secrets book.  His race has nothing to do with the fact that it's plainly obvious that he has no real use for the book.  If you lived a normal life with healthy human interaction and with a job and friend and confidants, etc., such a thing probably wouldn't effect you.  If you noticed it once, it wouldn't effect you.  But when you've been set up as I have, and this sort of thing happens regularly from state to state over the course of many years, you notice and it kinda screws with ya.  I also should note here that many of those doing these things are not aware of what they are doing.  It's quite possible that this guy is one of them.  Please, watch closely:

"It couldn't be much better."  --Me.  It reads so well!

Sleep Teaching
When I read Brave New World, I thought that most everything presented seemed quite plausible, and some already real, but just heightened metaphors, like calling movies "feelies."  Yes, I thought it all was pretty plausible except for one thing: sleep teaching.  I recall thinking that I just didn't see how that could possibly be effective, regardless of what scientists and physicians think they know about sleep and learning.  I just wanted to mention, to those currently doing it to me, that I am now convinced of this.  I can't recall the specifics of any of the material being transmitted into my head in the wee hours of the morning, but I can tell you that it all seems to be being read straight from old news articles or packages and books on politics, political theory, philosophy, and world events.  I haven't noticed it lately nearly as often as I did a couple of years ago.  I'd say it's happening now maybe two or three times a week, if that.  I suspect that there must have been a number of instances in which I was not aware of it, but I don't really know that for sure.  I also suspect that, like many other things I've been subject to, I'm not supposed to be aware of it at all.  Again, I have no recollection of the specific content and I am quite confident that the subconscious effect you're going for isn't nearly as strong as you think or hope it is.  Sorry about that.  I'm guessing this is probably one of the experiments that's being done on me and to test it, you'll be engaging me on fundamentally related topics to gauge my political stances and the effect of the "hypnopaedic" teaching, as it's referred to in Brave New World.  I can tell you this:  I still consider myself a Democrat, an independent Democrat.  I couldn't possibly see me ever going Republican.  That's pretty much how I've been my entire life, though I will say that with all these liberal extremists creeping into my life and threatening me lately, I'm inclined to be slightly less liberal than I use to be just on principle of not having my thoughts "adjusted" by way of harassment and stalking.

Anyway, the short answer on sleep teaching is, "It doesn't work."

BART, Hypnotism, Shark Fin Soup, and The New York Times
Now that I've referred to it, I have to write about it here or it's going to bug me.  It has been suggested that certain people think they've got me in a state of hypnosis, which, they may have for about a year or two.  Fortunately, I've broken it.  It never was what they thought it was, though.  Ever see that Road Runner cartoon in which the Wile. E. Coyote tries hypnotism to catch his prey? (seen here)  He makes a very intense, kind of mean look with his eyes to hypnotize his subject while making that gesture with his hands.  This is probably the funniest thing that's happened to me throughout this ordeal.  The woman pictured in this old GSC post actually tried to do that to me.  She didn't do the hands thing, but she actually tried to give me that intense, hypnotizing, mean-eyes look.  It was really pathetic.

A similar experience I had in San Francisco is worthy of note.  I was on a BART platform on my way to Oakland when a woman approached me and innocently struck up a conversation as so many of the operatives who've approached me do.  I forget what all she asked me, but before I got on the train, she looked at me and said, again, in that syrupy sweet half-whisper I've come to know so well, "There's no reason to ever leave San Francisco."  I wasn't close to having figured everything out at that point, so I just went on my way.  I forget when it was that that occurred, but some time around then I had volunteered at Pacific Environment and wrote a blog post for them about the shark fin soup issue.  Then, at some point in the not-so-distant future, I see that woman again, this time featured in the photograph accompanying a New York Times article on, you guessed it, shark fin soup.  I hate to implicate the Times, but that's a hell of coincidence.  How did she know they were doing the story?  How did she know where to be?  Jim Wilson took this picture:

Anybody havin' any luck with Chicago Trader, Chef, or MIT-Harvard-Pittsburgh?

"All I do all day..."
Keep in mind that false-flag is a big part of what's being done to me.  That means that the parties executing these scams and frauds, etc., do things to place blame on others, as in CIA or FBI agent, Peter Heldman volunteering the info that Scientology has mind control software--a fantastic example.

I've written that political insiders, people who have access to this info about me, are the ones involved, pushing buttons to ruin my life and employing operatives to stalk and harass me.  They must be very powerful and in high-ranking positions.  Ask yourself, "What individuals would have access to the most information?"  These operatives often make strange comments.  Often, it's as if their first-person sentence is actually being delivered by another individual.  On one occasion, a black operative who looked like he was doing just fine, passed me on the street and said, "All I do all day is have meetings with 50-year-old white guys and tell them what to do."

Make of it what you will.

French President Visits SF!
Well, I know that more than a few French Secret Service agents saw me and my sign and while the president was being driven away, he looked right at me.  Not sure whether he caught the sign's title or not.  There were a few cameras there and I got a little play, including from a French journalist.  I was looking for the SEIU Rally when I ran into all those black Suburbans outside City Hill.  Killed two birds with one stone.  Almost three actually.  I'd had it in mind to...sign...out in front of Twitter, which was the target of the today's workers' rally.  I got a few looks from Twitter employees, but not as many as I'd wanted.  Call it two and a half birds.  Lots of cameras at the rally.  A whollllllle lot of 'em.

Blog Hits, 2-13-14
I didn't go on line, today, until about eleven this morning.  I knew I would find a spike in hits on my blog.  The point wasn't whether there would be one.  It was just a question of how big it might be.  Isn't it great, how quickly I've identified the very best corners in town to stand on?  Found a great one last night.  Couldn't believe how good it was.  I bumped it over one block this morning, and BOOM!  Please...keep ignoring it.

Just to illustrate that I don't think every woman who ever hit on me is part of all this, I want to mention Kelly Carty who used to hit on me like crazy.  I know she's not one of those women who snuck into my life.  I saved her show more than once, by the way.

Peter Heldman
I met Peter Heldman through Experience Unlimited (EU), a professionals' job-networking group facilitated through the California Employment Development Department (EDD).  At EU, the members are divided up into groups of four who meet weekly to discuss their job search.  Pete ended up in my group.  Also in our group, was Ann Telthorst, who currently holds a marketing job with the DeYoung Museum in SF; a hell of a jump from EU.  Sweatin', stammerin' David "Financial" Powers rounds out the four.  At one of our first meetings, the one when David Powers was sweating so profusely, I recall Peter lifting up the sweater he was wearing to unveil a University of Michigan T-shirt underneath.  Pete ended up inviting me to some other job-seeker functions, one of which was at a church in Burlingame.  On the way there, he asked me with great sincerity about my situation and I told him about my brother framing me, etc.  He said, "Well, John, you ran circles around your siblings and they're jealous.  You shouldn't be surprised.  Maybe, you should just put it all behind you.", or something like that.  I'd told him my brother is a Scientologist and had had me declared "fair game."  I didn't say a single word to him about mind control.  He said, "You know, John, Scientology has mind-control software they can put on your computer."  This was all going on when they were really fucking with my head bad.  I knew Pete was up to something, but I didn't know for sure yet what it was and I was still confused, so I had to agree to these outings in the hope of gaining insights to the situation.  I don't recall exactly how he framed it--it may have been a follow-up to the Scientology mind-control comment--but he made a comment about "establishing a direct path to a person's subconscious," which was really strange.  Obviously, he was referring to what had been done to me, and I knew that at the time, and thought, "Wow--did he actually just say that to me?"  It was shocking because a major part of what they do is keep the subject wondering constantly and denied any confirmation of all the things he suspects.  Just like Jesse Mills did when he said, "You have no outside frame of reference.", Pete confirmed my suspicions about mind control with that comment.  I think those who have dropped such hints are brash enough to do so because they assume that I was so wrapped up in the mind-control that I would never figure it out or that I would simply forget the comment, which is odd, considering that a major part of the mind-control I've been subject to is training the person to be very obsessive while simultaneously hyper-curious.  Well...surprise!  I remember quite a bit.  The comment also reminded me of Len Spector's Michigan-fan friend in Niles who once asked me, "When do you feel safe?"

Yeah, I also remember Pete bringing me along to a job-seekers event with a speaker from New York at the Episcopal cathedral up on California.  It's weird how those screwing with me do it.  All they do is insinuate or suggest and the reason it works is because it's nearly always out of context and someone who's already snuck into my life leads me to that person.  Pete lead me to some guy at cathedral event who either insinuated that I'm a serial killer or was threatening to frame me for it; I'm not really sure which.

On the way to Burlingame, Pete introduced me to In-and-Out Burger.  A great burger, for sure.  I lived off them, mainly, when I stayed in North Beach for that month after my van didn't pass smog.  It was strange: Pete and I were talking about something, and he said something to me at one point in the tone of a police chief speaking to a cadet or a coach speaking to one of his players.  A major part of what they've done to me is make me so constantly scared, that I don't respond to such things, but I was thinking to myself, "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to, you U of Michigan pussy, you?"

Oh yeah...there's one more.  At the Burlingame get-together, Pete introduced me to some old guy who gave me a quick primer about public speaking.  He mentioned something about eye-contact, etc.  Well, folks, I'm working on my public speaking.  I've written my spiel on the fly and can edit it on the spot depending on the duration of the traffic light I'm standing at.  People look, people read, people see the resemblance.

I've fucking bent over backwards and stayed that way for years now in the hopes of obtaining a quiet resolution to all this.  I suspect that that is now impossible.

Note to the Dem Party Operatives who refuse to stop taunting me:  You're making a mistake.

The Yes-Set Close
I wanted to cover this a long time ago, but it's one of those things that, despite the fact that I can make citations supporting it, would sound really self-serving and made up.  If it's something you've never heard of or read about, you would think it sounds far-fetched.  So, I couldn't cover it without solid proof of other things I've claimed to lend credibility to everything I claim.  I have proof of people acting very strangely in my very near vicinity.  I have proof of attempts to use the internet to bait me into clicking on links leading to child pornography, one piece of which is connected to an individual I had an in-person encounter with.  I have endless proof of someone using the internet to torment and threaten me.  All of it is undeniable.

I've written that, over the past twenty years, I've had numerous encounters with operatives who knew about my background.  They portrayed our meetings as coincidences at bars and had the predetermined goal of getting me drunk and getting me to agree to things I likely would not have agreed to otherwise.  On some of those occasions, I was drugged. 
On some of those occasions, while I was drunk and/or drugged, the operative used what is commonly known among salesmen as the "Yes-Set Selling System" or the "Yes-Set Close."  I've read of it more than once.  As described at this website, these operatives would, while I was completely inebriated and/or drugged, ask me a series of questions to which they knew I would say yes or agree before asking me a question agreeing to which would portray me in a very bad light.  If it works on someone who's sober, just think how well it would work on someone who's drunk/drugged.  I'll bet 20% of my trust that not only did this occur, but that they recorded the conversations and it's those conversations that are causing me a lot of trouble.  If you've got someone drunk/drugged while doing that, it wouldn't be so difficult to get them to agree to something that might be completely against their true personal convictions.  As I mentioned elsewhere, the goal of those framing me for pedophilia is to actually turn me into one.  (It's a lot of money.)  I also know that when some stranger is asking me weird questions while I'm drunk/drugged, I might be likely to give the answer their goading me into just to get them to shut the fuck up, oblivious to their ulterior motive.  I know Len Spector, along all the other operatives who acted (very badly) as if they had poor hearing to get me to speak loudly, recorded my voice as well.  Some old-school hippies tried to sweet-talk me into letting it go last night.  That will never happen.

Holy Toledo!! .......... HOLY BUCKEYE!!!

Please, read both:



Thoughts, 2-18-14
What if Kathleen and Henne's mother are connected?  Wouldn't that be something?

I can't wait to find out how much it is.  I keep hearing $60 million, a fantastic number.  But then I think, "In today's economy, does that amount warrant a clone?"  Maybe, a human clone costs lest than I thought.  Maybe, I really have a twin.  Still, I'm compelled to think the trust is worth more than that.  Oh, well...if it's really sixty, I'll be able to afford a lawyer and asset finder.

Excited Annette and the Big Bucs at Mic Mac (Please, please, stop trying to convince me there is no money.)
The memories come when they come.  I judge the authenticity of them by the specificness of the situation.  I haven't mentioned many I'm not relatively positive of, and if I do, I'll tell ya.

I don't believe I've yet described this incident in detail.  I first met Annette Plank at a Plank family reunion at Mic Mac Campground in Union, Maine.  Deriding the quality of Mic Mac was a running joke among the Plank clan, generally directed at the David and Fran who would defend it as a fine spot for a family reunion.  I thought it was a great choice for the event.  We stayed in cabins, with David and Fran staying in the "main" cabin, which had a kitchen, similar to the Mic Mac cabin shown here.  To me, camping is done in tents.  I thought it was great.  Mic Mac is situated next to a small lake that really, truly is a pure deep blue in color.  I didn't think those things really existed. 

Annette is Carrie's sister-in-law and an Ohio native.  How about that?  She and Pete Plank met in the San Francisco area, of all places, while they were both working as neo-natal nurses.  They lived in Half Moon Bay until they relocated to Maine some time around '01.  When Annette and Pete arrived for the reunion, Annette, David, and I sat on the back deck.  Carrie may have been there as well.  I'm not sure if they were the first words out of her mouth upon sitting down or not, but shortly after we were all situated, Annette asked David, very excitedly, "Did you tell him?!"  David looked back at her with an expression of shock as he briefly and barely shook his head, nearly imperceptibly (trying to hide it from me), from left to right.  There may have been another exchange before he said with exasperation and quite animatedly, "I want it."  I remember it like it was yesterday.

They weren't referring to Kathleen's Bazzetta "condo" and all that god-damn wicker furniture.

Holy Toledo!


Well...I should mention here that someone snuck into my room the other night.  Not sure which night exactly, but it was within the past week, for sure.  I heard the screen shut.

I also want to mention that the new cop at my workfare has been really, really nice to me and that my boss there, who's been cordial and just fine from the beginning, has been extra nice, too.  I mean, it's not just a subtle change.  It's a really drastic change.  They're both acting quasi-apologetic, which neither of them need to, really.  I just wanted to mention it before I ask the person who's so "getting sick of [my] mouth," why he doesn't do something about it?

I know I'm forgetting some good quotes.

A Note on Toledo Experiment
As I've said, I'm not positive about every memory.  This is one of them.  The Toledo thing was a long time ago.  I don't even remember whether the was small print on the paperwork.  Anyway, it's possible that as I was leaving, one of those guys said, "Have a nice life."  I'm really not sure about that, though.

William Patrick, Author/Editor
I hate to be this way, but, it turns out John T. Cacioppo of Ohio State and Chicago fame's co-author on his '08 book, Loneliness is a guy named William Patrick, former science editor of Harvard University Press.  You'll see on his Wiki page that he also edited Legacy of Ashes: The History of the CIA.  Oh, and he also wrote a suspense novel about cloning.

Here's an interesting review of William Patrick's 1984 novel: Spirals.  The story is a DNA/Cloning thriller with a lot of stuff going on at Harvard University and Columbia University and the country, Columbia.  It includes a central character named Kathleen who has been cloned.  She ends up getting killed in a car crash.  The clone's name is Kitty.

I know someone named Kathleen.  I believe I've mentioned her a few times.  She calls herself "K2."  She likes cats.  She was born in 1950.  She has left numerous comments on this blog, mainly on the About Me page, insinuating that I am insane and insisting that her name and her sister's name not be included in the blog's posts.  She set me up for an abusive encounter with a "social worker" who diagnosed me as paranoid-schizophrenic.  The school where that social worker got his "PhD", right here in San Francisco, has been shut down because it was being run by a bunch of fuck-ups.  Kathleen insists she's my mother, but I'm quite sure she is not.  In the book, Kathleen studied primate infanticide in Columbia in 1976.

"Before I left the practice of law, I prepared many wills for rich testators, and I encountered the common fear that their progeny would be the victims of fortune hunters. They had hazy ideas of what a fortune hunter was, but they were apt to think of him, in the case of males, as a smooth greasy man of sinister good looks and a phony title. They rarely recognized him as the blue-eyed, blond-haired, athletic, all-American boy next door. They were not often aware, either, that most marriages the world over have been arranged, and many of them happily so. Or that there is very little one can do to protect one's loved ones from their own infatuations.

"That a marriage purely mercenary on one side is not apt to be happy in this country, I grant, though I can think of some striking exceptions. But where money is only a part of the attraction, guaranteeing the continuance, as a bride or groom may see it, of the comfortable existence both families have accustomed the affianced couple to, it may be harmless enough. Yet many heiresses are haunted by the fear of being married for their money, a fate which befalls many who never know it. For we are all packets of motives and never aware of the sum total of the reasons for our doing anything."

     -- Louis Auchincloss, "A Voice From Old New York: A Memoir Of My Youth"
If you're following my situation, I highly recommend this book.  I'm only on the second chapter, and I've already read a few things about isolation that don't surprise me much at all.  There's something about being more hostile and depressed when isolated.  There's also something about misinterpreting social signals, turning small personal errors into a big deal, plus a whole lot more.  I've already written about some of of them.

That poor dot.  I wonder if he plays the sousaphone. 

Should I Stay Or Should I Go
I need to cover this because it's something really important that I've neglected.  As I've said, it's been indicated to me that a major part of the game being played with me is to harass and stalk the person, keeping them destitute as they move from town to town.  One guy whispered to me at a coffee shop, "It's worldwide."  Assuming that's true, I'll stay right here until thing are fixed--completely--or until I have enough money to safely move on.  The thing I don't believe I've yet addressed directly, is that simultaneously--as substantiated by the comment made by a woman who would later be featured in a photograph in a New York Times story about shark fin soup, "There's no need to ever leave San Francisco."--the goal of certain people involved is keep me trapped in San Francisco, as far as possible from the east coast where my trust is likely located.  There's a guitar-playing street operative from Boston named--of course--John, I talk to occasionally who's part of all that.  They're goal is to keep me "hypnotized" and entertained and buried.  Remember Jesse Mills, the honky-tonk punk-rock douche who lead me to a death-threat involving the claw-end of a hammer and my head?  He once suggested I go live out in an SF neighborhood near the beach and stay there.

Of course, since I figured out who my parents are, if I had the money to do it, I'd be on my way to New York.  On that note, I should explain something now which I've also moslty neglected.  Remember Beaux?  I think he dropped a hint about being special forces.  He's the guy who gave me a hint clear enough that I figured out that everything really is happening because I'm the beneficiary of a very large trust.  It does, indeed, explain everything, as does Jackie-O being my mother.  Of course, he was speaking of a hypothetical situation.  He mentioned how if part of that person's trust included a large of amount of stock in a certain corporation, the members of that board might be inclined to cause the individual some problems such as the ones I've encountered.  That's all find and good, but here's the thing.  The day he told me that was significant for two reasons: 1.) It was the day in the fall of 2012 on which I first completely ran out of money.  I had less than a dollar to my name and ended up going to beg on the street for money and went to day jobs for a couple of months until I could no longer stand the SFPD or FBI or whoever it was harassing me at those jobs.  2.) At the time I had been tweeting a lot of very negative rhetoric about the President.  I think it was a about privacy and surveillance.

I knew Beaux was one of those guys who was representing someone else, possibly under that remote control I told you about during which it's someone else actually controlling what he says.  The point is, I told him I would pay a 5% fee to the person that leads me to my trust.  I should be accurate.  Knowing damn well that Beaux (or whoever) was making a veiled reference to my trust, my exact words were, "I'll give ya 5%."  He replied that he would do it for 15%.

Kip Williams
Loneliness Researcher
Ohio State Grad
Spent time on Psych Dept. staff at University of Toledo
Free Cyberball!!

"We humans simply have more difficulty overcoming these impulses when we feel isolated than when we feel connected."  --John T. Cacioppo

"Oxytocin" Search Results Include "Paul J Zak"

Everybody understands that I've been signing less specifically because I'm taking time out to read this very enthralling book by Mr. Cacioppo and Mr. Patrick, right?

2-28-14 / Blissful Sleep

There are ways that I've been made to feel like I'm in danger and there are ways in which I definitely am in danger.  Whichever's which, doesn't matter to me--I dislike both quite a bit.  Self preservation and personal welfare aren't number one on my list, but they're pretty damn close.  Either way, it seems to me that one of my main recourses to get myself out of danger is recording my experiences in this diary, as suggested by Len Spector's obese lady friend.

Yesterday, while I was digging through the dozens of videos of John Cacioppo speaking about how unhealthy and even deadly loneliness is, the "Blissful Sleep" video shown here popped up in the column of accompanying suggested videos a few times.  I'm inclined to think that such a video is not so out of place among videos about psychology, stress, and loneliness, nevertheless, it struck me as odd.  Such "suggestions" are part of the mind-control and that "direct path to the sub-conscience" Peter Heldman spoke of, I think.  It's like hypnotism, in which state the person is highly susceptible to "suggestion," or, maybe influence, which Cacioppo says is another result of loneliness.  I thought, "Hmmm...why would they want me to sleep well all of a sudden when I've gathered, and they, at times, have stated directly, that a major part of their goal is to prevent me from sleeping?"  The fact is, the suggestion thing was rendered rather ineffective quite a while ago.  Another fact is that since I first posted about Cacioppo and his co-author, William Patrick, I've been sleeping really well almost every night and have noticed only a very small fraction of the messaging that was previously being transmitted into my head.  Must be a coincidence, right?!

So, I don't think my sleeping so well last night--until about 3:45, anyway--has anything to do with the Blissful Sleep suggestion.  At 3:45, I swear, I noticed a very, very brief upward thrust at the foot of my mattress and thought maybe I "heard" someone say, "Let's try this."

Real or not, I repeat, personal safety and peace of mind are pretty high on my list.  The best solution I see is making my story as public as possible.  I will continue my attempts to get someone to acknowledge and assist me.  It needs to end now.

The Money
A couple of notes on the money that all these forces are trying to steal from me.  (A major part of the attack on me is keeping me in the dark as much as possible.  I figure if it's known that I'm not so in the dark, it will help.  I don't know what else to do.  I suspect that someone is still trying to kill me):
  1. In the book, "Nemesis," author Peter Evans writes that, around 1956 or '57, Jack and Jackie Kennedy were near divorce.  According to different sources, JFK's father stepped in to save the marriage and his political aspirations tied to it and either paid Jackie a million in cash, which I don't think would play into my situation, or set up a trust fund for her children.
  2. In most U.S. states, if a woman has a child by a man other than her husband, that child has a claim to her husband's estate.  If that is the law in Greece, I have a claim to the estate of Ari Onassis.
Ari and Len?
For the record: Len Spector resembles Ari Onassis.  I suspect he picked that name because it really sounds like a James Bond bad guy, which, of course, is a role that Onassis embodied.

Well, I wish I knew what to say about this.  "Loneliness" was a very exciting read for me, but this one left me speechless.  It had the bag of diamonds I was looking for, though some points are still foggy.  I'd meant to read it months ago, but there are three copies listed at the SFPL.  One is missing, and the other two are usually checked out, or one is checked out and other wasn't on the shelf.  A couple of times when I did see it on the shelf, I was busy reading about my brother and had something else on deck, so I didn't check it out.  The other day on the bus, someone read my sign and said, but not as if prompted by the sign,"You need to read, "Nemesis."  I said, "I know, but it's always checked out."

What can I say?  I've read a lot of contradictory information about my mother and some of it is a little disconcerting.  The media absolutely loves sex and scandal, and this is probably the most sordid tale I've ever read.  Thankfully, it really doesn't spend a whole lot of time on Jackie.  It's really about Onassis and all his wheeling and dealing and the big-money animosity between him and Bobby Kennedy.  It's such a shocking book that I don't want to give too much away.  I'll just say that there's a very interesting part about hypnotism and an LA hypnotist who worked with the CIA on mind-control projects who could "make people bleed on command."  There's also a part about reversed aileron cables that I thought was interesting.

Otherwise, I would say Evans is a great reporter and investigator, which is obvious, but--and this isn't a comment on the content--the book is also excellently written.  I actually had to look up a few words.  Regarding Jackie, I'll just repeat that the media takes anything they can get and runs with it.  Jackie could date anybody she wanted.  She dated a lot of guys.  I think people who write about such things, just sort of automatically assume, in the name of selling copy, that "dating" or having a date, must mean more than just that.  They know their readers love it.  If you have haters, you must be doing something right.

There's also something in the book, which I'd read in more than one other source, about Christina Onassis's intense hatred of Jackie and about how Jackie's settlement from Ari's estate, negotiated directly with Christina, dragged on for a year or so.  I must note here, that Christina Onassis is a person who very likely would've known about me.  In fact, considering other things she knew, as outlined by Mr. Evans, I find it quite difficult to believe that she didn't.

I suspect that very few of those paying all this attention to me aren't in for a surprise.

David Karr
I am forced to suspect that David Karr plays a key role in my situation.  It would be a sure way for these socialists to find out about it.  Otherwise, I'm at a loss, it's all coming so fast now.

It is worthy of note, though, that despite his dealings with Karr, there is no way Ari Onassis was a proponent of socialism.  Maybe I'm over-thinking it, but I suspect that may be significant.  How could Ari not know Karr wrote for that paper, which would have lead him to suspect Karr was KGB?

"I'd Pump That"
This has been bugging me, so I had to get it out of the way.  There are certain people involved in the situation who show up near me and don't really do anything that's discernible on camera, but all fit into a set.  They almost always show up immediately after I post something significant on line.  They sit immediately adjacent to me or very near me in rooms that are otherwise empty.  Sometimes by my side, sometimes facing me.  It's difficult to describe how they stand out other than to say that their gestures and motions are all done theatrically, particularly while they're taking their seat.  As they take their seat, they usually give me a purposeful glance.  Sometimes they make a show of tossing their books and pens around carelessly.  Usually, they make a show of studying something very intensely, sometimes adding to pages of notes.  Sometimes they act angry.  The first clip in this video shows a guy breathing heavily.  Other times they act really happy and confident.  It's always guys.  The couple is a rare exception.  It's not always all the indicators I've mentioned, as a matter of fact, I'd say it's never all of them, but, rather, at least two or three.  Again, I don't know who they are, but they always know who I am.  Sometimes, they deliver mocking or taunting messages to me through the text on their T-shirt, which warrants a story from a couple years ago.

A female operative I met who said she was from out of town but had lived in San Francisco showed me around town one day.  I forget where I met her, but she used mind-control tactics on me as she drove me around the Mission.  She showed me where to get the best burrito in town.  This was when I was really hypnotized.  While they have you under mind-control, they humor you and insult you at the same time.  This is a great example: She said she was a friend of Chris Cornell and that I might get to meet him, which segued her right into the claim that he's an asshole and all good writers are assholes.  Anyway, the point is, she showed me Amoeba Records.  While we were walking around in the store, a guy walked into our vicinity and hung around for a minute.  His T-shirt had a bicycle pump on it with the text, "I'd pump that."

Anyway...I made a comp video.  I do not know any of these people, but they know who I am.  They know my location and they go there, which is stalking.  What they do is part of the mind-control.  The guy with the T-shirt message showed up right after I posted above about "Nemesis."

An important note: I'm the only person who knows everything that's going on around me.  Trust me:  a lot has changed recently that you don't know about.

For Kathleen
I guess I should get this out of the way, too.  The review spoiled it for me, so nothing in this book was such a shock, except for, maybe, the last paragraph.  It's important to understand that in this book, as in his other book, "Loneliness," Patrick makes obscure references that his cohorts can wink at.  Know what I mean?  It's like it's their little secret--or at least it was.  They all know what it means and they get a thrill when they read it.  Sometimes, the references are completely veiled within the the story, which is actually more common in Loneliness, which might seem odd when considering it is written as nonfiction. 

I guess the first noteworthy quote in this book is McKusick saying, "I'm hoping to trace the genetic basis for some of the behavior Kathleen's going to be watching."  Many comments about behavior have been made to me.  There's also something about "control of gene expression"  As I've written it, Barbara Ann Clerici made the comment, "You're an experiment." to me.

The book also includes the quote, "keep him out and enrage him with frustration."  I've written that I've been systematically isolated from human contact and harassed and stalked with the expressed intention of keeping me frustrated.  I could name about a half-dozen other quotes from the book that might apply to my situation, but I just don't feel like it.  The most important point is that Kathleen's work in the story focuses on studying monkeys in Columbia.  Before she dies (talk about poetic justice) she has a very emotional moment which illustrates her hatred for alpha males, a common theme in "Loneliness."  There's mention of an "end-run around superior male force" in reference to Kathleen's studies and it's also said of her, "Kathy's out for blood.  The girl has no mercy in her."  Oooooo...look out for crazy Kathleen!  I have written, before ever knowing about Cacioppo and Patrick or any of their research, that Kathleen Kashay is both a socialist and a white-male basher.  She calls herself "K2."  In the story, sure enough, it was Kathleen who was first cloned.  Also, the dedication of the book is "For Kathleen."  It is strange to dedicate a book to a character.  I've never seen it anywhere else.

I should also mention that towards the end, Genentech is mentioned.  I have the business card of a guy who worked for Genentech.

The end is too good to be true, though.   The bad guy, McKusick, who's mostly portrayed as the good guy, gets cloned.  The resulting child is referred to in the last paragraph of the book as, "a baby boy who would grow tall and lean, who would have penetrating green eyes and brown hair growing in an unruly curl behind his ears."  Except for the unruly curls, that sounds a lot like me.

Memo to the dwindling number of people who might actually still be thinking, "There's nothing you can do about it": I wasn't supposed to figure out any of it.  That copy of The New Republic didn't come to me by accident, which tells me the blog has served its purpose and that, as I've tried to pound home for months now, the joke is on you.  Isn't that special?  I'll burst your bubble one more time by reminding you of the obvious significance of K2's discontinuance of commenting on this blog since I posed Bill Doggett's business card.

Other Notes 3-5-14
You know...sometimes things work out.  I needed to take a break from signing to do some reading.  It rained the whole time.  I finish my reading and it stops raining.  Of course, I really, really should do an itemized account of all the different ways Cacioppo's book substantiates my claims of the past five years.  I intend to do that, but it will take at least a few days.

Has anybody found anything interesting out about David Karr?  He must be key in the situation.

How about Bab Maheu, Mr. CIA and FBI who made Onassis' life so difficult?  Those are his very words in an Onassis documentary on Youtube: he "made his life difficult."  Sounds a lot like what's been happening to me, doesn't it? 

Meyer & Meier
There's a little confusion in the Hughes-Onassis connection.  Evans writes in Nemesis that Onassis hired Johnny Meyer away from Howard Hughes and makes mention somewhere about spelling confusion.  There's a guy named John H. Meier on line who says he worked for Hughes and that Hughes also had something to do with the death of RFK.  The photo of Johnny Meyer in Nemesis shows a person entirely different than the John H. Meier who has a video on Youtube in which he talks about he and his family being harassed by the government.

Oh, and also...has anybody read "Jackie after Jack" or the two books about JFK Jr?  You might want to do that.

One final point and I'm done for the day: I'm quite confident that Jacqueline Onassis has nothing against alpha males just like I know she wouldn't like San Francisco for one reason: camelfoot.

Mike Hampton, IRS Process Server?
I just want to mention this briefly because I have very little other recourse.  This is Mike Hampton, or at least that's the name he's using.  He joined my latest workfare assignment about a month after I started it.  He's tried about three times to bait me into an argument and then blame me for the confrontation, something that's been happening to me for years.  I would write his actions off as a product of the hood and not mention them here if he hadn't whispered something to me on his first day about once being a process server for the IRS, among others.  By the way, I haven' seen Mr. "Pay Attention." Reuben in a while.  He just stopped coming.

Bruce Levine
This is probably a good time to note that one of the people who I attempted to call, and had the call intercepted and the person who answered was very hostile, is Bruce Levine.

Haunted House Horror Movie

Some of those following along have probably figured this out.  I may have mentioned it once, but I'm not sure.  Now is a great time to cover it.

I have a vague recollection of a certain operative asking me whether I like horror movies.  I'm sure I said no.  It's not that I dislike them.  I'm just not a fan of them like some people are.  I doubt they'll ever make one better than HellRaiser II anyway.  Here's the body of a complaint I filed at my apartment building this morning.  It's not the first time I've experienced such a thing:
My neighbor in room #405 is in the habit of playing strange music at odd hours of the night.  The volume isn’t really the problem; I can hear the music coming in through my window even when it’s at a low volume.  There have been nights when the music would start at 1:30 am.  Sometimes it’s 2:30 am.  On one occasion, the music started at 4:30 am, only lasted for a song or two, and resumed at 5:30 am.  Sometimes, it’s not actual songs, but rather suspense or horror movie sound-effect music.  I need the window to be open so air will circulate in the room.  I’ve addressed him about it three times.  After the first time I addressed him, he lowered the volume, and with a mocking tone, asked, “Will you forgive me?”  He continues to play the music at very late hours.  Last night, it played until 3:00am.  I addressed him and he did not turn it off.

If I were a paranoid person, I would say he is a CIA operative who intentionally moved into the room specifically for the purpose of tormenting me and preventing me from sleeping.  I’m not paranoid, though, so forget I said it.  But trust me when I say that what he’s doing is exactly the sort of thing the CIA does.  I really make a conscious effort to be quiet in my room.  I would request that he refrain from making any noise at all between 11:00pm and 7:00am, which, of course, I would reciprocate.
I've thought at times that a "haunting" is a good way to describe what's being done to me.  At least they make it seem that way.  I wrote about my brother, Joey Zoccali suggesting the film, Event Horizon, which includes a number of quick shots of disturbing imagery.  I also wrote of his connection to Christine Faranda, and her having done the same thing--twice.  She left me alone to watch both The Ring, a worthless film that is nothing but a dreary clip-show of disturbing images, and The Director's Cut of the The Exorcist.  All these connections, eh, Wayne Cardarelli?  

Well, as you can see in the above screenshots, some of the torment I've been subject to directly refers to the whole horror movie/haunted house thing.  My original description of Bill Doggett and John Cocioppo's "gloomy forest" was "lonely" and "haunting."  Amazing how that worked out, huh?  It's interesting to note that my neighbor must have his speakers near the window, not to mention the fact that it's just plain strange for someone to listen to extended periods of suspense/horror movie music with no lyrics.  Recently, the songs he played had singing, but the vocals and maybe the whole song were slightly slowed down, giving them a bizarre quality that, again, is something you might equate with a horror movie.  When he first moved in, about a month after I did, he played the music very loud which covered for the fact that it was coming from right next door.  The clear audio coming in my window, as I'm sure was his intention, covered well for the muffled sound coming through the wall.  I originally thought the music was coming from another building.  It wasn't until after I got him to lower the volume by shouting out the window one night (the next morning, someone in the hall thanked me) that I realized it was coming from right next door.  The name he's going by is Edward Cotter.

Food-Stamp Recipient with $1500-Dollar Bike
This guy was at my workfare for a few weeks.  I knew he was there for me.  What these guys do, is kind of act like they're your buddy, but do and say other things to screw with your head.  All the sudden, he wasn't showing up at workfare any more.  Then last night, while I'm up on Lombard Street holding my sign, he showed up on a nice bicycle and asked if I was working.  Then, this morning he shows up at BK where I've never seen him.  He's on food stamps and says the bike is worth $1500 dollars.  That might be an exaggeration, but I know a little about bicycles and I wouldn't be surprised if it's worth at least a thousand.  After I stopped recording, as some point during the conversation, he asked, "So, you aren't gonna try a suicide bomb or nothin'?"  I can't take that kind of shit any more.  I laughed the whole way to the library.  Do you guys know how to read?  Can you not see my resemblance to the Bouviers?  Can you not see the mind-control basis and the socialist rhetoric in the Cacioppo book?  "They"--or, maybe, you-- tried to completely destroy my mind, but I figured it out.  The group that includes this guy simply can not be that stupid.  It's not possible.  From now on, a high school diploma is a must

Let's see if I can explain a certain critical point.  I'll try to dumb it down for you.  I've figured it out all by myself for the most part all while these people are trying to wipe me out.  I shouldn't have to spoon-feed it to guy with a $1500-dollar bike.

The CIA does not do what they do unless it is undetectable and unprovable.  The main reason they get away with the kind of thing they're doing to me--or usually get away with, anyway--is because unless you're the subject of it, it's impossible for you to have any concept of it at all.  Does that make sense?  They rely on being invisible and they rely on the assumption that no one will believe their targets, including the ones they framed for t----rism.  When I was in line at the airport when you guys molested my dying, crippled mother in her wheelchair, the guy behind me who shouted out, "Well, aren't you gonna do something?" was most likely a member of the CIA, the group that's been setting me up since David Plank, of Long Island (whose daughter went to NYU for acting, where JFK Jr., who also had an interest in acting, got has law degree) asked them to do so.

Here is the really, really important part that Mr. $1500-bike and his stupid fucking co-workers need to understand: The CIA knows that individual attempts such as the airport thing have very little chance of success, but they rain such attempts on the subject in the hopes that one will eventually work.  It's a barrage.  It's a numbers game and they won't sacrifice secrecy.  It's what they do.  They've been setting me at least since David Plank put them up to it but possibly for a lot longer.  I've explained that it's actually my brother who framed me and then the CIA recruited him.  They lie, they hide, they're a bunch of sluts with no integrity and no regard for anyone or anything but themselves.  They don't give a shit about the constitution or anything else and I hope to god that I'm the bait in a 50-year joint Secret Service/FBI sting to fuck them and David Plank and socialist, Jon Cacioppo & Co. and everybody else who simply can not abide straight up the ass. 

I wanted the shot of Bart using handpuppets to explain Sideshow Bob's scheme to Homer, but it's not available...

Mr. Connecticut
So, I sat down to wait for the bus last night and this guy sits next to me, with his wife and three kids, and does the loud-mouth obnoxious asshole thing they do.  It's not what they say, they're just very hostile.  I couldn't believe he was doing it in front of his children.  Poor kids.  I think it's important to note that one of two things is true: the NSA and/or Homeland Security knows damn well I'm innocent and has for quite a while, but their current thinking is this:
Wow...we fucked up big time.  We've just gotta bury this guy before it gets out, especially the part about us putting our hands underneath his mother's shirt and lifting up her breasts and feeling around underneath them while she sat crippled and dying--in tears.  Yeah--we've got to bury this guy.  I mean--it's obvious he's getting played and we couldn't figure it out, which will also make us look bad.  His story about his brother framing him and being CIA adds up, plus the whole socialist/Cacioppo thing.  Must bury this guy.  Either that or leave him the fuck alone and hope it goes away.  Where the hell did we get our "intel" on him anyway?  Maybe that will lead us to the CIA...
Or, they've know all along that I'm innocent, the motivation behind my persecution, and are actually part of the whole thing.

I'm having a hard time figuring out why such encounters still occur, because they don't really change anything other than by virtue of his appearance on my Youtube page and in this blog.  I'm not going to change what I'm doing because some idiot from Connecticut who's part of a group that's pissing on the U.S. Constitution by basically punishing people they suspect without a trial--something that, I assure you, is going to stop--acted like an ass to me at a bus stop.

For the record...
I've written of someone delivering first-person, often threatening messages to me through others who sometimes are actually doing it by remote control.  It is critically important to note that this activity came to a dead stop after I posted on Fox News Channel and Youtube about John T. Cacioppo and socialist mind control.  That fact won't change if you start doing it again and is one that I must conclude is quite significant.

"We have to kill you."
Okay, I've got the whole thing figured out.  I got a few very encouraging messages on the bus this morning, but here's the thing:  A major part of what's been done to me is an inducement of paranoia.  There is no doubt that part of what these people do is have conversations for me to overhear which sometimes contain threatening messages.  I know for a fact that often that is what's really going on, but it can be ambiguous which leads you to suspect it in situations when it's really not what's happening and that can be construed as paranoia.  Some of those doing it have no idea that they are in fact doing it.  I know that sounds crazy, but it's true.  I now suspect that such actions are actually part of the socialist conspiracy.  As I said, I've got the whole thing figured out and I'm happy about it, but just a few minutes ago, I overheard someone say, "We have to kill you."  I can point them out on Library surveillance video.  I would greatly appreciate it if those on my side would bring this to an end sooner than later.

This stuff doesn't stop me any more.  It's still mildly disturbing, but ineffective, nevertheless.

Not So gloomy?
I'm guessing that the cover image on the left is the original, which is the one on the copy of Mike Freeman's Undefeated that I currently have checked out of the SFPL.  I was not surprised to recently find the color version on line as the other had struck me as unnecessarily bleak.  I asked myself more than once, the first time I had it checked out, "Why did they do the cover photo like that?"  Since then, apparently, someone thought better of it.  Too late.

"Getting Gloomy"
Knowing I would find a few very interesting nuggets--interesting by virtue of their incongruous inclusion--in Mike Freeman's very poorly written book, Undefeated, I forced myself to finish it.  I was right.  It is blatantly obvious that the book was conceived and executed specifically for the purpose of making a political statement that includes a few hidden messages.  It's amazing how little the book is actually about the Dolphins' 1972 season.  Sure enough, it includes two or three metaphors that refer to genetics, including "Shula embedded into their genome after the Dallas loss..." which closely followed use of the phrase, "primal urge."  The last chapter mainly focuses on Cuban exile-related bombings in Miami in 1974.  I noticed a quote attributed to Mercury Morris: "I was putting my foot in ice and getting gloomy."  "Getting gloomy?"  Have you ever heard anyone say they were getting or felt gloomy?  It's not just the reverse anthropomorphism (a person can't be gloomy) and the rarity of the phrase that strikes me.  Who knows?--perhaps it's an accurate quote.  I just can't get around the fact that before reading the sentence, I'd mentioned the word, "gloomy" a few times in this post, including directly above in my discussion of the unfittingly bleak image found on the cover of Undefeated.  Morris is also attributed the phrase, "subjective experiential knowledge."  Really, Mercury?  How interesting.  I wish we could have met.  In the final pages, Freeman writes, "I quietly stalked the 1972 Dolphins for many years."  You may or may not know that Miami beat the Redskins in the Super Bowl to complete the perfect season.  Somewhere in Freeman's disjointed attempt at secretly venting, the reader will find the phrase, "destroyed Washington" or "destroying Washington." 

You guys don't really think I'm on your side, do you?

If it weren't for all of the above, which doesn't cover everything I noticed inside the book, I wouldn't find something else on the outside of the book significant.  Nope--if it weren't for that odd "gloomy" mention and talk of embedding something into someone's genes and many years of stalking, etc., I wouldn't even mention the selection of the cover photo.  The early-70s Dolphins' outstanding defense had a lot to do with the team's great success and I'm not opposed to a tip of the hat to them.  That Dophins team had four of the biggest names on offense in the history of the game, though, not to mention a Mount-Olympus level coach in Don Shula.  I mean, I know there are some great shots out there of Paul Warfield diving for a catch and Larry Czonka (both northeast Ohio natives) running someone over (the only shot of Czonka in the book shows him upended and vertical with his neck bent and his head pinned between his shoulder and the ground), but then again that defense was really, really awesome.  What was their nickname again?  Oh, right--the "No-Name Defense."  Hmm...the No-Name Defense...the No...Name...Defense..."destroying Washington"...........

Some People!
"Bonus Round Solve"  ??
It's amazing...the revelations of the past week and, yet, some involved A.) still think it's a game, and/or B.)  haven't figured the whole thing out.  Yesterday, apparently in response to my writing about Undefeated, the content of which I know is nothing new to certain individuals, this socialist operative approached me at the SFPL with intention of setting me up and succeeded in doing so with assistance from the SFPL "security" staff (at least three of whom have absolutely no business working that job).  Not that it matters, because I don't really need to be there at all any more.  It's just that I'm having a hard time reconciling the fact that such actions actually continue, all things considered.  I mean, they apparently think they're smart and I know they're following along, yet they dare to show their face and do such things despite my recent postings dating back to that FB post about Richard Petty?  Do I have to spell it out for you too?  By executing such premeditated acts, you identify yourself as a knowing and willing participant in a socialist mind-control conspiracy that has at its core the goal of destroying this country.  I will obtain video footage of anyone who makes such attempts despite the efforts of the SFPL Keystone Cops and the like.  In truth, now that I know that I've been the subject of socialist brain-washing for twenty years, there's part of me that would like to continue capturing video of you idiots, but I gather that it really doesn't make a difference--to me or in the big picture, anyway--at this point and I'm just plain sick of dealing with it.  That said, I'm warning you: it is seriously unwise to make such attempts or to show yourself to me at all.  Save yourself.  I promise you, it is not a game and those who think it is, I suspect, are also in for quite a big surprise.

By the way, in the above video, in the opening shot of my desktop picture of Central Park, my cursor is pointing to a spot where there is a bench from which one can enjoy a fantastic view of the 59th Street skyline.  Have lunch there or, better yet, stop by at dusk when you visit the city.  You'll be glad you did.

About That Brain-washing...
Problem solved.

The Upshot 
Having the knowledge of the socialist brainwashing and its effects, and the potential outcome of the forced loneliness is a double-edged sword.  Knowing about it negates the effect to a great degree, mainly, at least, the lingering, continuous nature of it, which is most important.  But as certain operatives continue to do things intended to make me feel lonely, like this guy last night who ran to get next to me in a crosswalk, burped at me and sang, "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band..." before following me onto the bus, the immediate effect is there.  Just before I shot that clip, a guy walking by me on the sidewalk said to his friend, "And then he really entered the prison..."  Though I found an unbeatable way to fight it last night, knowledge of their intention compels me to alleviate the situation completely because of the immediate effect of these things.  I hope everything has been as successful as possible, but I simply cannot take it any more.  I must attempt to stop it completely:   

Memo to those who apparently still haven't figured it all out: 
B.O.'s gonna be hangin' a medal on me while they're slammin' the door on many, possibly thousands.

(Oh, gee, I forgot: I actually caught the guy saying "prison."  I thought I'd deleted that clip and re-shot it.  How about that?)

Shotgun Blues
I've written that a key aspect of what's being done to me is emotional manipulation.  Comments have been made about an "emotional pendulum."  It keeps you constantly discombobulated, depressed, and confused, not to mention scared.  Those manipulating my online activities, live, in real time, constantly, often adjust the position of webpages to put a certain line of text or image in my direct line of vision.  It happens most when I'm looking at this post.  At the right, you will see the spot where it stops most often, by far.  Many times, while I'm looking at the bottom of the page where I just added something, the page jumps to that exact spot without my doing anything.  Happens all the time.

The most important question remaining unanswered: Who was the girl at Holiday Inn working for? (The answer is: The CIA.)

Think so?

So, I ran into a guy yesterday who, as many with whom I've had similar experiences have, claimed to be from New Jersey.  He made confusing comments to me, including volunteering that Valerie Plame lives in Marin, which I laughed at openly, and asking me whether I was obsessed with Jacqueline Onassis when I was in high school. 

I quote Ayn Rand:
The Soviet ideology rests on the notion that men can be conditioned to communism genetically--that is, that a few generations conditioned by dictatorship will transmit communist ideology to their descendants, who will be communists at birth.
Again, I wish I had the shot of Bart using handpuppets to explain Sideshow Bob's scheme to Homer.  I'll remind you of an important statement made to me by Barbara Ann Wolf Clerici: "You're an experiment."  The woman on the lift in this video said, "Your whole life is an experiment."  Review this post, particularly my recent entries about certain books I've read, and ask yourself again, "Why would Jackie cover up the pregnancy?" 

I've learned that those remaining who sit next to me and have conversations for me to overhear are definitely socialists.  At one point, that group included what I must assume are cops such as two women who were nearly shouting comments in my ear about "staying away from schools and playgrounds."  The best I can say to them is that I understand your angle, but I do look forward to your apology.  That stopped a while ago.  However, if their intention is to punish me without a trial, then I'd say they're in deep shit.  Today, a couple having a strange conversation next to me in Peet's called me a sellout before leaving.  (I got them on video.)  Such a claim is a typical socialist attempt at confusing the issue which is both something Rand calls Argument from Intimidation, and discards the fact that I am aware that they've been trying to brainwash me for many years, and indicates that they are either not aware or are in denial of just how badly they're getting punked--compliments of Jackie O.  A Barrage of attempts to make me think the whole thing is a lucid dream is a logical last-ditch desperation move at this point, by the way.  If, with this last nugget of info I found in Rand, you are still unable to add it up, then I cannot help you.  Either way, I can't take these New Jersey idiots interrogating me with stupid questions and trying to confuse me any more.  Please, keep them away from me.  I'll also mention now that, as of last Monday, those degenerates, Reuban and Hampton at my workfare, are still trying to set me up to screw me out of my G.A.  If you are still screwing with me at this point, you are one of two things--or both: CIA or Socialist.  Now that I am aware of everything, I can't see what purpose my continuing in this position serves.  I figure I must have served my purpose by now and self-preservation has climbed into my top three.  I truly can not understand why it continues at this point.

Queen-Side Castle Open, Example 1
Castling Queen-Side
I'm not a great chess player by any stretch of the imagination, but I recently made a big leap within the skill level I'm playing at on my computer.  It's the default level, which is fifth of ten.  I'd noticed not long ago that castling queen-side early produces good results.  I started doing it regularly only recently.  On my third consecutive try, the computer actually made an attempt to blow it up right away.  It sold out with back-row pieces to destroy the excellent defense the ploy establishes.  I won that game and it hasn't tried to blow it up since.  The new philosophy has made my winning percentage go way up.  I've never noticed castling king-side to be nearly as effective.

Before I started doing that, I learned that a style I gravitate toward is advancing my pawns first and following up with back-row pieces.  I've played against people who don't do a whole lot with their pawns, but, rather, get their power pieces out on the board early and are effective that way.  I've tried that and I just can't make it work.  Unless I'm mistaken, one of the Joe Zoccalis made a comment to me way back in the day about my being good with my pawns.  Imagine that-- me--good with my pawns.  In a recent game in which I castled queen-side early, I ended up in good enough control of the board to take out three pieces, including two back-row pieces, with a single protected pawn deep in enemy territory.  I couldn't believe it happened.  

Queen-Side Castle Open, Example 2
I've included screenshots of two different sets that can come out of the early queen-side castle.  They're only subtly different, but the main difference is worthy of discussion.  Don't worry too much about that knight.  The main difference is the reversal in position of the bishop's pawn and the rook's pawn.  Either make you competitive.  My assessment is that the set in the top screenshot can lead to more offensive punch earlier while the set in the bottom screenshot provides a more stout defense.  The key to either set, which I got into simply with the goal of castling queen-side early, is that it sets you up for good offense later in addition to being a great defensive set now.  I would appreciate some feedback from all you super-smart nerds paying attention so closely.  What do you think of my moves?

"By Myself"
My next video compilation will focus on input meant to induce and sustain feelings of loneliness.

"Move to Korea--it's more free there."
Last week, I "coincidentally" ran into a woman on the bus who I'd seen at the shelter months ago and suspected.  She says her name is Catherine.  She initiated a conversation on the bus and, like so many of these operatives do, used a soft, humoring voice.  She said she had political troubles, too.  When they had me completely hypnotized, I would fall for these conversations.  I could see that she was confounded when I didn't react the way she expected.  (Ayn Rand will do that for you.)  She acted like she was talking about a conversation she'd had with someone else when she said, "Just get out of California.  Get out of California now."  I replied, "Well, I would, but I'm broke and I recently learned that I've been the subject of socialist brainwashing for some 20 years."  She had started the convo by asking about my Ayn Rand book, by the way.  I think it was the first time I'd had such an encounter during which I've been this free from the hypnotism and mind-control.  I just kind of laughed at her when she suggested I move to Korea because it's more free there.  Coincidentally, she stopped in to Starbucks today, so I said hi.  When I asked this person (who is stalking and harassing me) in the video linked above to confirm her comment on the bus, she replied while I was speaking, "You have a good memory."  I guess that means I must not be lying.  (I'll be using more links that embeds because embeds slow the post down.)

Pedophilia Entrapment Comp Updated
I knew that as I was working on the pedophilia entrapment compilation, I was missing an effective clip that I'd must have saved in a wrong folder.  I found it while reviewing my Youtube page the other day.  Indeed, it's probably the best example I have of Google results baiting me into clicking on images of nude minors.  The new clip hits at 22:43...

About That Socialiast Brainwashing...
It's important to note that the socialist network that's been targeting me for some twenty years makes anti-American rhetoric an equal part of "the process."  I recall that toward the end of my time at OSU and when I first moved to New York, some of that rhetoric had effected me.  At the same time, though, I was living like a good capitalist American--I moved to New York with less than a thousand dollars knowing that there wasn't much of a safety net there nor expecting any special favors.  I hustled my ass off and made it despite what was going on.  (A black woman once approached me on the street in New York or Columbus, looked over her shoulder, was very nice to me and said, "It's amazing your alive.")  Some might find it ironic that the thing that cured the anti-American rhetoric they'd planted in me was my becoming a regular reader of the New York Times.  It was all those stories about things that go on in other countries, I guess, and that was long before September of 2001.  (Carrie tried to bait me into making anti-American and anti-white comments more than once.)  So, I've figured out exactly what's going on, but, since I don't know when or exactly how it's all going to wrap up, I'm going to do my duty as I see it should be done by someone who's realized he's been the unwitting subject of socialist, anti-American brainwashing for twenty years.

Do I need to write out in detail, here, my vague memory of those three women who baited me and drugged me?


Oh, I guess I really should 'splain...

Little Women 
I feel I should get this out just in case.  My gaining knowledge of Cacioppo and the socialist brainwashing only confirms the memory.

I've mentioned that I have vague memories of being drugged on more than a few occasions.  One of those was done by three women.  They baited me to their home and while they had me drugged, cheered me on with anti-American rhetoric.  They asked whether I was happy with life in the U.S. and asked whether I "wanted to be part of the revolution" and something about a "revolution of the mind" and that the intent was to  "make things so bad for so many people as to cause a violent revolt." My best guess is that this occurred in Columbus, the second time I lived there, from '04 through '06, though I'm not positive about that.  They point is, though, they'd been setting me up since about '94.

John T. Cacioppo writes:
However, lonely players accepted more unfair offers than did nonlonely players.  They went along more often when their partner treated them unfairly, even though both lonely and nonlonely players rated the offers as equally and profoundly unfair.
The upshot of Cacioppo's statement is that lonely people are more vulnerable to scams and cons.  So, someone who's in my position, having been forced to loneliness, has simultaneously had his self-esteem damaged and his executive function impaired.  Loneliness also makes a person more vulnerable to influence and persuasion.   Altruism, a doctrine of being self-sacrificial, is at the core of socialist rhetoric.  Therefore, a target's self-value has been destroyed and they've been convinced to be more giving.  Cacioppo also writes that loneliness makes a person impulsive.  

When you accept an offer from a telemarketer, your name goes on a list.  They figure if you fell for one, you'll fall for another.  A target of socialist brainwashing would, of course, be more susceptible to some of the outrageous scams conducted by telemarketers.  (It's interesting that they're piggy-backing off of capitalists, no?)  Over time, such a person will fall for more of those scams than others might.  It's not only telemarketing scams, but it's a good example.  I'm inclined to believe they pick people who are easy potential targets in the first place, middle-class folks barely getting by or already struggling one way or another.  As monthly bills from scams such as, for example, credit-card or ID protection, pile up, the person's discretionary income slowly shrinks.  Pretty soon, they start missing their bills.  Eventually, their rainy-day fun gets decimated.  Then, when they lose their job or some other emergency occurs, they drop off of the middle class into the ranks of poverty, never knowing they were getting set up all along.  Obviously, there are other economic factors that contribute to the decimation of the middle class in the U.S, but, I am convinced that it is the intention of this socialist network to exacerbate it greatly by way of the set-up I describe.  Aristotle writes that a revolution happens when the middle class is discontented.  By making the populace feel lonely and depressed, by way of both "gloomy" imagery and messages directed at the public at large, and directed attacks on individuals such as the one I've been subject to, they are intentionally attempting to erode and ultimately decimate the middle class by siphoning it off from the bottom with the goal of undermining the United States of America.  Simultaneously, the revenge-of-the-nerds aspect leads them to target individuals they perceive as having an unfair advantage or as privileged, such as, maybe, a tall, straight, ambitious guy who respects individual rights and isn't afraid of competition. 

Catherine's right.  I do have a good memory. 

Notes, 4-9-14
So, we're playing a game, right?  Right?  Or, no, wait--you're "helping me grow."  Hmmm...let's see if I can make some more "connections."  It has been suggested to me more than once that certain individuals involved are doing what they are doing to me with the express purpose of making anger and frustration build up in me with no release, something that can be very dangerous.  Their main tool is to keep me confused.  I've wondered and wondered who could be doing it.  (Making the person constantly wonder is also part of the mind-control.)  Then, when I read Mike Freeman's book, Undefeated, I not only saw a veiled reference to pent up anger in addition to other coded references to my situation (Don't you worry, Mike--I know exactly what to say in front of the microphones.), but also, in fact, a phrase directly quoted from my blog that sticks out like a sore thumb.  Then, I thought of Cacioppo and Petty and my experiences of the past twenty years.  Then I thought about K2 and other "social workers" I've encountered.  Then I thought about that idiot from Chicago's comment about "turning the children of the ruling class into the Vietcong."  How's that workin' out?  Bet your ass, all that anger will be turned on you.

I don't need "help growing" from a bunch of socialist idiots who would suggest that that is what is happening and that it's all good for me.  I've read of the dangers I've been subject to for some twenty years, particularly the past five.  The very notion is just so ridiculous--you helping me to grow.  Pick up the Times just once.  Despite my awareness of Cacioppo, etc., the game apparently continues.  Operatives, tracking me and stalking me, continue to show up in my vicinity and make themselves evident, but never say a word.  Though not nearly as much as previously, it's still disturbing.  I have not yet been addressed directly regarding the situation.  Oh, I forgot--"Only the umpires know all the rules."  Let's see if I can figure out what the game is:

The CIA and this socialist group vie to place individuals under mind-control the way they have me.  They actually have a set of rules they both follow.  They get away with it because they either target loners or make the target a loner.  They ruin their life the way they did mine and rely on the assumption that no one will believe the ones who figure it all out.  Sound crazy?  Well, I've written a lot of things that sound crazy which have since been substantiated, haven't I?  If I had to guess, I would say that I am first a plant to blow up this socialist mind-control, undermine-the-U.S. conspiracy, but secondly to blow up your little game so neither of you can subject anyone to it again.  That would make sense, wouldn't it?  I'm just guessing.  It's partly a guessing game, right?  I would also guess that we're stickin' to three or four other mob-rule groups who simply refuse to abide by the U.S. Constitution, including all those guys who "love their daughters" so much.  Yeah--that would be my guess.

Anyway, though things are so, so much better for me at this point, I'm still living in a situation which it threatening to me on an ongoing basis simply by virtue of the continued loneliness and that I don't fit at all in my neighborhood.  People actually have insinuated or suggested that I'm in a foreign country--a bizarre assertion, considered the amount of American money floating around here.  Since I continue to be steadfastly refused knowledge of when the end is, I'll keep pursuing it my way every day.  The only effective way I see that I can do that is by spreading my story to and making friends with hard-core capitalists and/or waltzing into the federal building and saying I have an important national security tip.  How ironic, no?  Either way, I am completely sick of it and am well in tune with the fact that me being in this position no longer serves any purpose other than keeping me in danger.  I'm pretty much on auto-pilot, and if you think I'm stuck, you've got another thing comin'.  Despite everything I know, it is impossible for me to kick back, relax, and wait.  I can't do it.  I'm done reading.  I'm done searching.  The Virtue of Selfishness is the end of the line for me.  Part of it is that I have nothing to do all day.  Maybe if I get my word through to the wealthy of San Francisco, I'll land me a job.  Wouldn't that be neat?

We're playing a game, right?

Ed "Torpedo" Havaich
And now, we're back around to the book, "The Royal Game."  Ed "Torpedo" Havaich offered to help me with "The Royal Game" when we talked about chess back in Niles when my life was a complete nightmare.  I certainly haven't obsessed about chess, but, now that we know about the socialist thing, the basic premise of the story sounds a bit like mine, doesn't it?

My life will be normal again and you will all let me be.

The Gay Charade
Ok... let's see if I can make some more connections, shall we?  Did I mention somewhere along the way, maybe in my other blog, that the people doing this are trying to turn me gay?  I'm quite sure I did.  Of the four incidents I recall occurring while I was a student at OSU, one was those women at BW3 deriding a communications degree (Oh, the irony.  ;-)) ), another was a couple guys ripping on Zeppelin at Long's, and the two others were by gays.  One was a guy who came into BW3 repeatedly, who I'm sure I could identify.  The other was at a Goober & The Peas show at Stache's, an incident for which I have a witness I'm betting will remember.  (Dude's seriously lucky Tony was there.)  I'm not going to waste my time or space here on a detailed account, but let's just say this guy went out of his way to bait me into a fight in what I now know is typical fashion.  It was a great scene.  Tables and chairs got knocked over and Goober made a joke about it!

Hmmm...what else can we connect?  Let's see...

Oh, right...did I write something about Laura McCormick's "husband" being strangely effeminate?  Oh, yes--I'm quite fucking positive I did.  That's Laura McCormick from Pittsburgh who lied to me when we met, claiming to be from Niles.  Kathleen Kashay like to say "Pittsburgh's my town."  The same Kathleen who threatened me with a cheap hit-man.  So many connections, I'm losing track!  Wait--where was I?  My executive function is a little out of whack.  Gays... gays... well, I guess I should probably mention Victor Carrion here, shouldn't I?  That's not the kicker, though...

Before any of this became overt, before I heard a single death threat, before I had any clue there was an organized psychological attack secretly being conducted against me, at various points over the past, oh, say, fifteen years, I've made the following statement to friends and acquaintances:  "Gay men have been harassing me throughout my adult life."  I've said it so many times, I bet it wouldn't be difficult to find a few people I said it to--before...I had any clue...that any of it...was organized.  They would usually ask why and I would respond, "Oh, I don't know, I guess they like me.  One of them told me once that if a gay guy is attracted to someone who's straight, that person's being straight only makes the attraction stronger."  That must be frustrating as hell.  You know whose response to that comment sticks out, though?  Carrie Plank's.  She would always play the apologist for them, trying to make me think I was imagining it or that there was nothing wrong with it.  Isn't that interesting?

Hmmm...I've been "getting harassed by gay men throughout my adult life," and I now know that I've been the subject of socialist brainwashing for some twenty years, which includes the same type of harassment.  I'm saying that this group, lead by psychologists, like, oh, I don't know, Victor Carrion (who is definitely gay and who quite intentionally, brazenly rubbed his crotch on my knee at Cafe Royale) and social workers is out to undermine the U.S.  Hmmm... David Powers, that fella I met through EDD is gay.  So is Brian Weirt.  They both made comments to torment me, as did Jeffrey Luggert.  Luggert's exact words: "You know, my mom used to say, 'I know I get more work out of you when you're frustrated.'"  Hmmm.... David Powers was sweating his ass off when we met.  He was actually shaking.  I wonder what was bothering him.

Kathleen says Pittsburgh's her town.....Pittsburgh's her town........Pittsburgh's her town.....

"I Love My Daughter."



Cock-A-Doodle-Do!  (Wednesday, 4-16-14)
I wasn't surprised when I ended up in an SRO with construction going on directly outside my window.  It's actually not a big deal.  They work from 7:00 to 3:00.  I like to get up early anyway and I'm not into spending the whole day there, so it really is a non-issue.  Monday morning, the day after I filed my second complaint about my neighbor Edward Cotter's loud music, I heard someone shout out their window just after the first workers arrived, "Hey, you guys aren't gonna be makin' a lot of noise, are ya?... 'cause I-I-I-I-I-I-Im' watchin'."  Frist of all, the sentence doesn't make sense.  What does whether or not the workers are going to make noise have to do with whether or not this person on my side of the building in a room above me is going to be "watchin'."  He asked the question with that mocking, facetious tone I've come to know well.  Let's see if I can make some more connections...

First, it reminded me of that not-so-veiled death threat I received on GSC from Greenville, PA., shown here.  (I accidentally blew out that post, which is exactly why I took a screenshot of it.)  Secondly, it reminded me of a seemingly innocuous encounter I had with my brother-in-law which I don't believe I've yet mentioned on either blog.  Like so many other occurrences in my life, I knew there was something strange about it at the time.  If I had to guess, I would say it was in '07 or maybe '08, but I'm really not sure.  We were sitting at the dining-room table at his house when I set my sunglasses down, folded and upside-down.  Rick asked about them, picked them up, tried them on, and said, "Hmm, these are nice."  When he set them down, he folded them and positioned them right-side up and pointing right at me.  I also my recall Joey singing, "Feelings... nothing more than feelings..."

This morning, the same guy who's "watchin'" did his best rooster imitation out his window at exactly 6:00am.  Edward Cotter, who moved in one month after I did, lives in his room about ten days out of the month at the most, which is quite strange for someone living in such a building.  When I first complained about him, the building manager said he was "out of the country."  Hmmm...jetsetter livin' in the hood?  Anyway, he has a buddy who's come to his room three or four times with whom he has loud conversations.  I don't know what they say because I drown out the sound, though once precisely as I was walking by his door, which is usually cracked, the other guy said, "It's a cult."  I'll remind you that false flag is a critical part of what they do.  I'm quite confident that the watchful rooster is Fast Eddie's buddy.

I'm sure there are two or three other connections I could come up with, but does it matter at this point?

"Talk to me!  Please, talk to me!!"
While I'm rummaging around at the bottom, cleaning up all the little, loose pieces of gravel, etc., this is probably a good time to mention this one, which, it occurs to me, may, despite everything else, be more significant than I first thought.

So much went on at BW3.  One very slow afternoon when I was working there, some guy blasted through the door and ran through the dining room.  I think the place was completely empty.  He was white and wasn't very tall.  He ran up to the bar and said, "Talk to me!  Please, talk to me!!"  Befuddled, I said, "Huh?  What do you want me to say?"  He said, "Anything, just talk to me!!"  As this was happening, another guy ran in and, with a very mean look on his face, shook his head "No" at me.  I don't recall whether he did that before or after I said to the first guy something like, "Ok...how's it going?," thinking, "You don't tell me who to talk to."  The first guy let out a huge sigh of relief and thanked me.  The second guy may have made some kind of remark like, "You're dead," but I'm not really sure about that.

By the way...what'd you find out about my co-worker, CJ?

Ezekial Tyrus, Walgreen's Security Socialist Thug
Certain things I've posted about certainly have taken on new meaning since I learned about Cacioppo & Co., haven't they?  One is my experience with Walgreen's thug security guard, Ezekial Tyrus.  There are some entries on this blog and GSC that I've since deleted.  My original mentions of Ezekial harassing me at BK may be one of them.  I'm not going to take the time to look for it--I've got a list of things to do in front of me.  He simply showed up across the street at BK and did what my harassers do, which he's also done a few times at Walgreen's.  Ezekial's an author.  On a recent visit to Walgreen's, I asked him if he would like some reading material.  He declined, but I showed him my flier anyway.  He looked at the title, declined again, got a little flustered and said, "I'm a socialist."  Isn't that interesting?  He harassed me previously, each time while on the clock for money-makin' capitalist company, Walgreen's, and now admits openly to being a socialist.  Fan-damn-tastic.

Joey and The Matrix
The comment from the past that is now most obviously significant would, of course, be short, fat Len Spector's comment, "How many friends do you have?  None?"  There's another that applies in that regard, though.  I believe I mentioned it in The Rundown, but it warrants another mention here.

Joey Zoccali and I once had a conversation about the movie, The Matrix.  I said it's a great movie, but disagreed with the notion that if someone were to die in The Matrix, they would automatically die in real life.  I argued that it doesn't fit the metaphor...which is does not.  He took the opposing viewpoint.  We went back and fourth saying, "Yes, you would." and "No, you wouldn't." until he finally said, "Yes you would.  I'll show you."

How's that workin' out, Joey?  Hang on to that inhaler, chump.  Joke's on you.

Of course, I should also mention here the two times I've heard, "Why don't you die?!", one of which was in Elkhart, Indiana in December of 2009.

More on Pittsburgh
Has anybody else guessed that the MIT/Harvard grad who is associated with Pittsburgh is the same guy who "bosses around fifty-year-old white guys all day?"  It only occurred to me recently.  I'm a little slow--my executive function is just shot.  Did I say Kathleen is a white-male basher?  I think I did, didn't I?  Hmmm...I would think looking for a non-white guy with degrees from Harvard and MIT who's associated with Pittsburgh and bosses around middle-aged white guys all day would be pretty easy for someone with the right investigative resources.  Did I say something about a "Chicago Trader" being "all you need to know," though?  Hmmm...so confusing.  Damn executive function!

I have a note here reminding me to post about my experience at OSU with a woman named Marxa which lead me to my only physical encounter with a Neo-Nazi.  I'll save it for Wednesday.  It's on GSC somewhere.

Pent Up Anger/UMPC
I've mentioned that those attacking me have the goal of making me incensed with anger and denying me an outlet for that anger.  I've written that they've been doing such things to me for many years without my knowledge until recently.  Just for kicks, I did a little research on the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center and found this story about John Shick.  I've also written that Kathleen, who has a degree in "social work" and proudly claims, "Pittsburgh is my town" along with Jeremy Haddle, who is also a "social worker," set me up for a false paranoid-schizophrenia diagnosis, haven't I? 

It's probably just a coincidence.

Right Wing, Left Wing
Here's an important part I haven't mentioned yet.  I've suspected for some time that Kathleen and Rick might be working together.  I've denied it to myself because Rick is very conservative and Kathleen is very liberal.  I've seen other things, though, that suggest that right and left socialists are working together in some instances.  Think about that for a minute.  I'm also inclined to think that those associations might make them easier to bring down, though.  I also mentioned somewhere along the way that I suspected Rick and Carrie Plank were working together.  Thought, maybe, I saw Rick give her a nod while he thought I wasn't looking when he came to Brooklyn to move me back to Ohio.  I'm probably just dreamin' that, though--purely a figment of my imagination.  Did I say the Planks are racist?

"...Think about it, think about it, think about it!"
This is important because of the timing and what I've learned about mind-control.  When I was working at Fox News Channel, I once had a conversation with Joey in which he said, "You know, when you have a problem, the way to fix it is to think about it, think about it, think about it!"  He said the last part quickly and with a tone of intense urgency.  A major part of what's been done to me is to induce obsessiveness.  Their goal is to make your mind like a constantly running computer you have very little control over.  Then, they feed you info they want you to process.  Obviously, when something's bothering you, it's rarely a great idea to think about it constantly.  Sleeping on it often works such a thing out.  Of course, it's also become quite clear that another key part of all this is to prevent me from ever getting any good sleep.  Joey's comment is the earliest hint I can think of that might be connected to an attempt to induce obsessiveness and is the first such strange, maniacal comment by him.  It would have been in 1997 or 1998, which, I think, was before the CIA ever approached him.  Maybe, it has something to do with Scientology.  He tried to brainwash me into Scientology when I was about ten years old.  Walking back and fourth and touching the wall in an empty room.

$200-Dollar Gift Card for the Serial Rapist

Videos Following Will

Coincidences Around Town
Did I mention that a few months ago I coincidentally ran into a local CBS news reporter?  I'd briefly met this person previously.  We had a lengthy conversation the second time.  When I get to talk to such a person, I just start rambling like a mad man about my situation.  I was surprised when this person had two or three very pointed questions regarding my situation.  I was as if this person already knew about my situation and there were very specific things this person wanted to know.  Very strange.  Probably just a coincidence.  Stuff like that happens in a small town.

Flier Distribution
A note to my guys, whoever you are.  When I'm out passing out fliers, these idiots approach me to take one for the purpose of draining me of them one at a time--as if it matters.  I always know when that's the case, but it's never a situation in which I can get video.  A great opportunity to identify them.  I know you're likely already aware of this, but I just wanted to confirm. 

♫ How Lonnnng Has This Been Goin' On?  ♫
I've got a few aces I've been hanging on to.  This one might require some research and, obviously, could turn out to be quite significant, so, I'll show it now.

K2 says there's no such thing as a coincidence.  The comment, "Your whole life is an experiment." has been made to me more than once.  When I was a young boy, I had a stuffed animal.  It was a dog that, as I recall, was in a sitting position.  It had a somewhat droopy face and sad eyes.  You'll never guess what his name was.


My very best guess would be that it made into Nancy's hands and ultimately my bedroom via one of her co-workers at the Sears Credit Office in the Eastwood Mall.

Juan Caruthers Search Results

Interesting Sample of HCI?  Study it hard.

Math Wiz
So, if I hand out thirty fliers in forty-five minutes, what's my hourly rate?  I'm no math wiz, but I come up with forty.  Is that good, er...? 

Adam at the Movies
Has anybody spoken to Carrie's previous boyfriend, Adam?  We ran into him one night at a movie; may have been Gone with the Wind.  He's not very tall and was balding at the time; blonde hair.  In yet another strange occurrence which I noticed but didn't know what to make of, he tried to secretly give me a look of urgency with his eyes and shook his head "No."nearly imperceptibly, kind of the same way the Rev did to Annette at Mic Mac.  It was as if he was trying to warn me about something.  I bet he could shed a little extra light on the situation.

End of the Line
You know, I've written, maybe, a half-dozen times over the past few years that I'm done writing about the things I've been experiencing.  All of those instances were, of course, before I read John T. Cacioppo's book.  Nearly three months later, I find myself at that point again--finding that I don't have much left to write about.  So, I'm just going to write about couple of things I suspect may be significant and just might actually abandon this post.  But, as they say, never say never.

To Catch A Predator
I've mentioned that one of the groups involved is training me to make "connections."  Let's see if I can make one, shall we?

Have you read my post, "Alex Cried, 'Wolf?'"  If you haven't, please take (timeout for the solo in Journey's, Natural Thing.)...

If you haven't, please take five minutes out and read it.  It isn't very kind to MSNBC, a major cable outlet that practically lives on a show called To Catch A Predator which stings pedophiles.  I have written that my life became a nightmare not long after I started my blog and that some operatives have made comments indicating that all of this is, in fact, related to my blog.  I have written that numerous attempts have been made to entrap me for pedophilia in public.  I have proven that I am being baited into clicking on child pornography links on line.  I wrote, before I ever knew about John T. Cacioppo and the effects of loneliness (impulsiveness and vulnerability to suggestion in addition to the obvious effect of being desperate for human interaction), that they're actually trying to "turn me into a pedophile."  

Coincidence?  Connection?  Beats the shit out of me.  Ask Wayne Cardarelli.

Gone Fishin'
I may have written about this on GSC.  It bears repeating.

When I lived in Columbus from '04 through '06, the same period during which I suspect those three women drugged me, I was getting out to fish once or twice a week.  On one of those occasions, a black guy approached me as I sat on the banks of a river in northeast Columbus drowning worms.  He started asking me questions that were a little intrusive.  I recall thinking it was a little strange.  I specifically recall him saying, "Loner, huh?"

The spot was immediately adjacent to a road running north and south.  As I recall, the bank was less than 20 feet from the road.  The spot is clearly visible while driving by.  The road was to the east and the river was to the west.  Best guess is Alum Creek.  

By the way, if you're wondering about the physical vitals of those three women, my very vague memory tells me one was light to medium-skinned black and the other two were white, one dirty/sandy blonde, the other brunette.  One of the white women was heavy-set.  

It Never Ends
Actually, it does end.  The subject reminds me of when I first started getting stalked and harassed and covert operatives started recording my voice.  At Borders in Niles, a female operative pulled out her phone and very conspicuously started recording our conversation on more than one occassion.  She had her laptop out and maybe another device as well.  I made a comment about personal electronic devices and the internet, saying, "There's no escape," to which she replied, "Yeah--that's the whole point."  She kind of looked like Heather Reese, but it wasn't Heather.  Well, I've got a newsflash for her:  The things I've experienced have come to a near-complete stop.   Isn't that interesting?  I wrote a few days ago that I wanted to abandon this diary, something I've written a few times before.  Naturally, I've got a list of things, some minor, some major, that I absolutely should cover.  In the name of Nancy Zoccali, who I know was a very hard-working person, I'm going to see how much I can get done today--"all in one shot."

Sunnyside Toyota (or was it Nissan?)
While living with Christine Faranda, I took a job at a Sunnyside auto dealership near Cleveland.  Two overweight women got jobs their specifically for the purpose of harassing me.

I covered this previously, but it bears repeating.  One aspect of what's been done to me that has continued nearly steadily is transmitting information into my head while I'm sleeping.  It only happens in the wee hours of the morning.  Often, I wake up half-way and am loosely conscious of it.  A few times, I was able to remember what it was later that morning, but it always fades before the end of the day.  With one exception, I do not remember any of them now, that exception being something about an Act passed in the U.S. in the 1920s.  I suspect the goal must be for this information to affect me in ways I'm not consciously aware of, to "adjust" my disposition, etc.  Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm relatively sure it doesn't work.

More On Some "Dude"
In my HCI video, I forgot to mention that Some "Dude" and I also discussed pornography and a political mob attacking those who view it.  I'll remind you again that John Kennedy Jr. once brought Larry Flint to a DC Press Corp event.

Socialist's Smile Fades
Handing out fliers has been a great experience.  I've had encounters with many who expressed genuine support and gratitude.  A few older guys had tears in their eyes.  Socialists engage me occasionally as well.  Sometimes they're rude and harass me.  Other have been more cordial.  Nearly all of them bring up Obama's health care plan, which I always have to laugh at because it just has nothing to do with the information in my flier.  The point is, they always think my information is going to be another spew of political hyperbole and opinion, which, of course, it's not.  Yesterday, a guy came up to me and started questioning me.  I said, "Just read the flier.  Stand right here, read the flier, and tell me what you think."  When he started reading, he had that typical socialist loser's smug smirk on his face.  Watching that smirk morph into a a look of grave concern as he choked down the first three paragraphs was one of the greatest thrills I've had in San Francisco.

A Beautiful Mind
Carrie and I watched the movie, A Beautiful Mind together on her suggestion.  The main differences between me and the guy portrayed in the film are, a.) he's a lot smarter than I am, and, b.) I have proof.

I don't go looking for patterns in the newspaper, but the fact of the matter is, the New York Times crossword puzzle contains clues and answers that are related to my situation.  The point is, I'm not the only one going through this.  Those doing it know that out of boredom, some or many of us will likely turn to a daily crossword puzzle.  I thought about taking some shots of the them from the past week, but I'm feeling a little burnt out.  I've got a few sitting around.  I've established enough credibility, plus there's the woman who said, "There's no reason to ever leave San Francisco." who just happened to end up in a photo about shark-fin soup in the Times.


Ok, let's see how fast I can do this.  

At the base of the attempt at mind-control I've been subject to is a kind of ongoing hypnosis.  A.T. Lynn is a hypnotherapist.  She suggested I would be shot to the moon.  It's not a real hypnosis, but more of what I think of as a manufactured one.  A network of operatives use the methods I've described to keep the person confused and scared--constantly.  Because no one ever addresses you or explains anything, you become hyper curious about everyone and everything.  The isolation makes you desperate for some kind of interaction and you start thinking everything you see and hear is intended for you, and, thus, a kind of hypnosis has been manufactured. 

An operative who once engaged me in conversation brought up the movie, AngelHeart (an excellent film, by the way).  She specifically mentioned that last shot when the baby points at the camera and his eyes turn yellow.  

I've showed you a lot of strange things that appear on my computer screen through the internet.  One thing I've seen a lot of but haven't gotten many screenshots of, just because I've had so many other things on my mind--and, you know, my executive function and everything--are images of people pointing their finger directly at the camera.  But, here's what's really interesting: I was sitting eating my breakfast one morning when I looked up and saw a truck drive by with a picture of a baby pointing his finger.  Also, because I'd picked up on the whole fingerpointing thing from my internet experience, I thought I should catch this shot of a guy, who looks a little crazed, absentmindedly pointing at me on the bus one day.

If the SF-Marin Food Bank had only one truck with one clearly Photoshopped image of a baby pointing, I probably wouldn't think much of it.  But, the fact is, they have another one featuring a black baby girl.  I wanted to have a shot of it for this posting, but I don't feel like staking out the food bank again.  I'll catch it at some point.  Either way, it's worthy of note that at the Food Bank website, you can view a picture of the same baby boy as in the video, but in a different pose and outfit--also pointing.

Images in public of someone pointing at you would mean nothing to the average person.  When you've been "hypnotized," however, it takes on a whole new meaning.  Many of the shots of someone pointing that I see on line are clearly Photoshopped.  Yes...images of someone pointing at you are put in place in public intentionally for people in my position.  If you're not in my position, it wouldn't mean a thing to you.  Here's a few shots from my computer and out in public.  Unfortunately, I don't have many.  It wasn't until I saw the Food Bank truck that I absolutely knew I was right about it (The point of this operation is that it's easy to frame someone.  You will abide by the U.S. Constitution):

This is probably the best one I have because the guy in the shot looks like a cop and the image is so obviously Photoshopped:


This is a good one, too.  The shot in the upper left corner is clearly Photoshopped, plus, there's another shot of a sheriff or something pointing.  Two for one.

I post this one because the whole fingerpointing thing started with a shot of Obama pointing at me just like the one below while I was sitting at Peet's one day about four years ago.

Here's a good one.  Dude's so tall, his head's out of the shot.  Why is he pointing?

There's nothing particularly special about this one.  I just post it to hopefully illustrate the frequency.  It's amazing how often I run into shots of people pointing.

I think it's clear that many of those appearing in these shots don't know why they were asked to point by the project producer.  I know that if Penn knew about this, he would be against it.  This one was on the counter at Walgreens.

Reno 9-1-1
I don't recall whether I wrote about this previously.  On my way to San Francisco, I stopped in Reno and stayed at a Motel 6.  I brought my things up to the room and then left to get something to eat.  When I returned, there were six or seven cops in the parking lot standing around the open door of a police van laughing loudly and maniacally as the lights on the roof flashed away.  If there is one moment I don't have on video but wish I did, that's it. 

Did I say something about gay men harassing me throughout my adult life?  I did, right?  Has anybody else noticed that the owner of The New Republic is gay?

"In 'The Program'"
A street operative in SF once made a comment about my being "in 'The Program.'"  I later came across a book called, "The Program."  It's about a guy who goes undercover in a mind-control cult.  Strange. 

Indian(ola) Summer
While I'm sifting around at the bottom, I shouldn't neglect to mention my summer '95 roommate from Bexley.  That summer I lived in a house on Indianola Avenue in Columbus very near our house on Indiana.  It was the common campus-area boarding-house situation in which rooms are rented out separately.  I don't recall my roommate's name, but he was a real asshole.  He was never there, but he had a dog he left there that was positively infested with fleas which didn't appear to bother it at all.  Must be the breed/coat.  They sure did bother Achilles, though.  I had to shave the rear half of his body and bathe him twice a week to give him relief.  I sure wish I could remember that prick's name.  I could point him out, though.

Stones Fan
The person screwing with me is a big Rolling Stones fan--as is Kathleen Kashay.

Now We're Cookin'!
This may or may not be related to my situation.  Decide for yourself.  

A hotpot is an electric pot with a pouring spout made for cooking without a stove.  A rice cooker is kinda, sorta similar, but it's specifically designed for cooking rice.  You can't adjust the temperature on a rice cooker as you can on a hotpot.  All a rice cooker has is an On/Off switch.  After fifteen minutes or so, it automatically lowers to a different pre-set temperature.  I priced hotpots and rice cookers at Walgreen's.  They cost the same.  I think it was $16.99

If you moved into a one-room apartment mainly intended for welfare recipients, and there was a case worker there who occasionally provides tenants with food or even appliances, which would you expect to get, a hotpot or a rice cooker?  The hotpot would make more sense to me.  More versatile, no?  

Pictured above is the rice cooker and accompanying bag of rice I received upon moving into my little room here in the all-American town of San Francisco.  You know what?  I seem to recall Kathleen being real happy about her rice cooker.

The main basis of the mind-control I've been subject to is manipulation of emotions and mood.  They also induce paranoia.  I've written that my computer is under surveillance and being controlled whether I'm "on line" or not.  Here's a great example of how paranoid they make the subject.  This is completely silly and absurd, but the thought actually crossed my mind, so I'll share it to illustrate just how bad the paranoia is.  

I mentioned recently that  a person who's been isolated as I have might be inclined to do daily crossword puzzles (See Our Man in Havana.).  Can you think of another game an isolated person might play to pass time?  How about Solitaire?  Check out how crazy this is...

Does winning put you in a good mood?  Probably, particularly if your percentage is high.  If you're losing a lot, it might bring ya down, huh?  I believe I wrote somewhere early on on GSC or in an e-mail or two that the goal of those attacking me is to prevent me from ever winning at anything--a complete denial of victories.  Once, when I was playing Joey in a game of Chess, he got up and ran into the kitchen where Rick was.  I heard him whisper, "I'm in trouble."  A few minutes later Rick came through the living room and "accidentally" bumped a corner of the board that was sticking off the coffee table and the pieces went tumbling.  Then, he made a comment about disrespect, which I didn't see the relevance of.  I tried and tried, but just couldn't figure out what his accidentally disrupting the game had to do with disrespect.  Maybe, it has something to do with those Neo-Nazis who've been tracking and harassing me for 25 years.  Yeah, I bet that's what he meant. 

Not every hand in Solitaire is winnable.  When I started playing it to pass time recently, I guessed that 15% is roughly the amount of winnable deals.  There are 52 cards in the deck.   The number of possible combinations is staggering.  Apparently, this is the number: 3,954,242,643,911,240,000,000.  Yikes!  Do you think it's possible to figure out which deals are winners and which are losers?  You'd have to have a PhD. in math from MIT to do it without a computer, but for a moderately powerful computer, I bet it's not that big of a deal.  (No pun intended.)  In fact, I bet that computer program could rank winning deals and losing deals according to difficulty.  They've got some pretty powerful computers these days--or so I've heard.

My winning percentage in Solitaire over the past month or two has gone up and down between 15 percent and 18 percent.  What's interesting, though, is that I noticed that at some point in the past few weeks, I started getting a lot of winning hands.  Then, this past Sunday night, I started getting a lot of losing hands and have been since.  Coincidence?  Maybe, but my paranoia tells me that the rate at which I get winning and losing hands is being manipulated to alter my mood.  Must'a been that fingerpointing thing.  I know--it's ridiculous.  Like I said, it's a great example of what paranoia will do to you.

Around SF, W.E. 5-6-14
Here are a few notable events from around town over the past week:

Suspicious Package
When I came back from signing this weekend, I notice that at Market and McCallister, right at my corner and in the heart of the hood, Market street and an adjacent block were cordoned off and police where everywhere.  I asked what was up and someone said it was a suspicious package.  I thought that was a bit of a head-scratcher, particularly in that neighborhood.  A.) Why would anybody do such a thing there?  B.) There are suspicious packages sitting around San Francisco around the clock.  Something stood out right near my building?  Didn't make a whole lot of sense.  I would think that that part of the world would be the last place those who might want to do so might attack, but what do I know?

American Flags in Good Old-Fashioned Red, White, and Blue
I see a lot of T-shirts and hats around town with American flags in black and white.  Last week, I started noticing color-correct flags around town in places I hadn't seen them before.  Is that for Memorial Day, er...?

Pistol-Packin' Mama
This morning, I saw a woman in BK dressed in street clothes and sporting a sidearm.  Odd.

"If You Have Haters...
You Must Be Doing Something Right"  I saw that on a T-shirt at Fisherman's Wharf.  Had to compliment the guy.  Right on the money.

You would never believe that certain people are involved in all this.  That's how they get away with it.  This guy used to sleep on the ground outside my van with another guy.  They harassed me every day first thing in the morning and before I went to bed.  He'd use a lot of cop-talk and actually harassed me about looking for a job when it had been made clear that I was being prevented from obtaining one.

The guy on the right in this video, who works at the County 9-1-1 Center on the block where my van was parked, harassed me often as well. 

Security Guards
I found out a few months ago that this guy is a security guard.  He harassed me a great deal at 24-Hour Fitness.  I recently obtained video of another security guard who's stalked and harassed me as well.  He tried to hide in Philz when he saw me and tried to sneak out because he knew I was waiting to catch him on video.  An interesting note: It's getting to be that I'm the only one not acting guilty.

Both of These Guys Screw with Me at Workfare.  Caught 'em both in one shot.  Lying New Yorker wearing a Guess shirt, yet.

Interrogation by Cashier
I've mentioned this in a few other spots, but it should definitely be included here in my diary.  Starting in the Niles area in 2009 and continuing in San Francisco, I had several experiences in which retail clerks at various outlets asked me intrusive questions or made strange comments while reading them from the computer screen of their cash register.  This occurred at Walgreens and Starbucks the most.

Labor Ready Caters to Pedophiles...or Helps Create Them?
Hmm...a quick review:  1.) I've been both systematically isolated from authentic human interaction and subjected to visual and aural input meant to reenforce feelings of loneliness.  2.) I've simultaneously been made subject to death threats and constant harassment and stalking  3.) John T. Cacioppo says loneliness, aside from obviously making one desperate for comforting human interaction, makes one impulsive and vulnerable to suggestion.

Labor Ready once assigned me to a custodial job that put me in a room with about 200 junior high kids.  Coincidence?  Connection?  Beats the shit out of me.  Ask Labor Ready. 

Women's Marathon
"Oxytocin, [triggered by physical contact between two humans], creates literal warmth between creatures, in part, by redirecting warmth from one body region to another" (Pg. 142)  --John T. Cacioppo

While working day jobs contracted through Labor Ready, the same Labor Ready that sent me to a room full of teenagers, I worked on a job guarding the clocks set up along the route of a Women's half-marathon.  The clocks were set up the night before and one person had to stand by each one over night.  It was cold and rainy.  During the race, we had to take pictures for runners if requested to do so.  One woman who stopped did a kind of theatrical cheerleader pose while I took her pic.  She turned sideways, kicked one leg back so her heel was nearly touching her ass, arched her back a bit and did a professional model smile.  As I handed the phone back to her, she squeezed my hand tightly with both of hers for about a second.  That Oxytocin thing is correct.  This is probably a good place to mention that they conduct these experiment and keep the person under mind-control by bring keeping their Dopamine and Oxytocin at an absolute minimum.  Once that's been accomplished and the person has not authentic interaction, they can used the tiniest, invisible interaction to manipulate their emotions and mood.  It's that simple.

Even More On Fingerpointing
This is something that has occurred semi-regularly over the past few years, but I've thus far neglected to mention.  Two people, possibly always women, walk by me and, as they're passing, one will nonchalantly wave her arm with an outstretched finger in my direction, acting as if she's gesturing to accompany what she's saying to the other person.  The first time I noticed this was when I went to hear Joe Biden speak in Warren in '08.  That time, the woman who did it was actually walking alone, but within minutes a guy with a walkie-talkie on the back of his belt came and very conspicuously stood in front of me.  The irony.  By the way, it's often difficult to describe how all of those harassing me do what they do.  To say that they simply "make themselves conspicuous" is probably the very best way to describe it.

"Another Offer"
One night, maybe three years ago, I was sitting at Chevy's on Van Ness having a beer.  A guy came in and sat two seats away from me.  He was tall and big and was wearing a very expensive shirt.  It was already dark out, but he was wearing sunglasses.  He didn't address me directly, but there was no one else around but the two of us when he said, "I'll make you another offer."  I took that to be code for, "I'm blackmailing you and I'm going to frame you for something different than all the things I've framed you for already."  Not sure exactly when this was, but I was sitting near the far end of the bar, which is unusual for me. 

Wanna Smoke?
When they had me wrapped tight in the mind-control, one of the ways they would "hook" me into a conversation was to wait on the sidewalk for me to walk by.  They would have their back to me, but just as I approached, they would spin around quickly and flick open a pack of cigarettes in my direction.  It was nearly always a guy who looked really dirty and raggedy.  It's really strange--it's like a visual mental hook.  I knew they were doing it, but I always stopped anyway and asked to bum one.  Then, they would start giving me a bullshit lecture me about some political topic.  I think they almost always had military background.  I remember when I first was able to stop doing it, which was around the same time I stopped looking at everyone as I walked down sidewalk.  I looked back and saw the guy looking at me in shock after I'd ignored him.  They only tried it a few more times after that.

North Beach No-No
After I obtained the identities of the individuals featured in this video, I visited the North Beach Police Station to file a report.  When I got there, a woman rushed into the lobby behind me and instructed the officer at the counter not to take my report by shaking her head.  He went in the back room and came back less than five minutes later and said, "Ok, I got."  He was lying, of course.  He gave me no receipt, which I know is s.o.p.  This would have been right around December of 2012.

Even More From BW-3
There has been a number of occasions on which it occurred to me that an experience from long ago might be significant to my situation, and I thought, "Naaa--couldn't be.", only to find out later that it is connected.  The most important of those, of course, is my cyberball experience at The University of Toledo.  Because of what I found out about that and a few other things, I'm compelled to mention this.

When I was working at BW-3, a somewhat tall black (I say "black" because it's okay to say "white") guy used to come in occasionally.  He had that low-rent, con-artist air--something I know well--about him.  He always acted really nice, but, like so many other encounters in my life, I knew there was something strange about him and our conversations.  He was always very interested in talking to me, always very positive.  Still, he was weaselly.  The comment he made that stands out was something about my eyebrows indicating that I'm "an open-minded person."  

I would call him tallish.  He had light to medium-colored skin.  He was, in fact, what you might call "dorky."  Shit--some might even call him a nerd.  I bet I could identify him. 

I mentioned not long ago that, perhaps, I should just waltz into Homeland Security, present my flier, and say I have a national security tip.  I don't do that for the obvious reason that I know they already know about me.

Zoccalis' Other Motivations?
I should mention a couple of other things that might be significant regarding Joey & Co.  

I now know, as I'd suspected before I left Niles, that my immediate family was spying on everything I do on line.  That means they would have known that I was considering writing a book called, "Free Ride or Bust" which was about how they were all banking on me making it to the NBA.  I've suspected this might play into their motivation.

Public Service
I happened to run into Jane Kim the other day.  She's the supervisor of my district here in San Francisco.  If she had my flier, what would you think she should do?  I would say that sitting on it and doing nothing would be ill-advised; running it up the flagpole would be the safest bet, for sure, don't you think?  By the way, I made the easy mistake of misspelling her name when I Googled her just now.  I encourage you to do so yourself and dig through the image results.  Then go to Flicker and scroll through results for "Kymberly Jane."

A major aspect of the mind-control I've been subjected to is that it makes your imagination run wild.  You never have anyone to talk to and they give you a thousand things to wonder about.  I've taken great care to differentiate between things I might be imagining and things that I know are real.  I know the real ones by details.  For instance, I know that my one or two meetings with "Some 'Dude'" are real because I remember him shaking his head at something about my brother and I.  In the hopes of further illustrating this point, I want to present a couple of points that I'm relatively certain are complete figments of my imagination:
  1. You'll recall that I definitely had a drugged encounter with three women which I believe occurred in Columbus from '04 to '06.  I think that as an offshoot of that experience, I've conjured up the crazy thought that, either in that encounter or in a separate similar one, possibly with a different set of women, they openly recruited me to be someone they could turn into a rampage killer as part of a plot to institute strict gun control, which, as is obvious, would serve the purposes of a mind-control conspiracy quite well.  It's important to note here that my brother-in-law is very much against gun-control, which would support the obvious assumption that such a conspiracy would be conducted by liberals.
  2. I was in my dining room at Burger King one night, maybe a year or two years ago, when a woman in her early twenties struck up a conversation with me, asked about whether I had a stuffed animal when I was a kid, asked its name, and gasped and ran out the door when I said "Lonesome."  I could see where I clearly might be conjuring this one up.  I mean, as I recall her age, it would be right in the range of a television news P.A.  Wishful thinking, alllll the way.

Type A, Plan B
My favorite show, King of Queens, is on four to six times a night on TV Land.  When you have nothing to do, television is definitely a great way to pass time.  So, I've been watching.  Have you heard about the new series starting in June on TV Land?  It's called "Jennifer Falls."  It's about an ambitious "go-getter" who loses her high-paying corporate job and has to take a job tending bar.  You bet, it caught my eye.  I've had to maintain a high threshold for making real "connections," though.  At first, my thought is always, "No way--that just can't be."  But, then, last night, I caught something in a re-edited ad for the series just before I flipped over to Brit Floyd.  I guess it must have been a shot from the scene in which Jennifer actually gets fired.  It appeared to be her boss saying something about "anger issues."  Hmmm...anger issues...anger issues...

Please, rest assured...I am positively thrilled to be the one takin' you sorry asses down.

Guess Again
I've made some wild assertions that really sound crazy that have since been proven or substantiated, haven't I?  Some have been guesses, for sure.   Here's another guess: If you've had any contact or communication with me whatsoever, whether on line or in public, if you've come within 30 feet of me in the past 15 years, my guys took a close look at you.  Just a guess.

Hawaii 5-0
Anybody see Hawaii 5-0 Friday night?  I caught the last twenty minutes.  I was surfing Dish when I clicked on the info for that night's show and read something about a scientist doing mind-control experiments on people.  There was a shot of a woman having a aneurism burst while driving and some other stuff about injections.  Then, last night, I walk in the door to see some news about a big shooting rampage in Santa Barbara by the son of the director of The Hunger Games.  How the hell did he kill three people in one house by stabbing them?  Were they sleeping?   Hey...did I mention something recently about some movies I've watched with my brother and Christine Faranda that contain stark, violent, disturbing imagery?  I did, didn't I?  I believe I also mentioned something about individuals involved saying that they are "making me hungry."  Furthermore, I mentioned something a couple years ago about a woman I met in a TEFL class who was involved in a student film at San Francisco State Universty called, "Trigger," didn't I?

Oh, and you'll never guess what else happened.  Last night, in the wee hours of the morning, I suddenly felt a very localized, sharp, burning pain in my head just inside my skull.  That was very real, but I may have been imagining someone saying shortly thereafter, "You should be dead now."

Zynga's Farmville has a "lonely animal" feature and "gloom beasties."

Interesting point: The most influential anti-gun persons in my life?  Carrie and David Plank.  ??!!

The Beauty of It
By virtue of Jazz's heavy influence on my life, Cacioppo & The Nerds are, to a large degree, getting run over by Woody Hayes.

On the suggestion of a security guard who said, "The SFPD are mostly good guys, except for a few rotten eggs at the top," I stopped in to see the California Highway Patrol.  Security guard dude said they were involved in the investigation of the Santa Barbara shooting.  How much of a report they made, I don't know, but a Lieutenant Vang (I assume that's his title) took my name, number, the name of my blog, and my flier.  The important point, though, is that some Asian guy who looked like some sort of cop came in the door behind me and was signaling Vang throughout our conversation.  I saw Vang glance at him once or twice.  The strange guy signaling Vang was pacing around nervously as I walked out the door.  He was acting like a little kid who was in trouble.  I hope Vang didn't blow it.  I very clearly told him that a network of individuals is trying to drive me to an act of violence by stalking and harassing me.  I told him I have proof and other substantiating evidence, but he pretty much acted like he thought I was crazy.  I told him that my experiences are connected to a group of filmmakers, which I thought might be significant, considering that the Santa Barbara killer is the son of a film director.  When he suggested I file a report with the SFPD if I feel threatened, I informed him that I have filed seven reports with the SFPD about the stalking and harassment I've experienced, and have received no response.  I have also contacted the Santa Barbara Sheriff and the Santa Barbara PD, none of whom seem concerned. 

Don't Forget Your Bag
Not sure why I haven't written about this yet.  I was sitting in Starbucks one afternoon when an older black woman came and sat near me and gave me that purposeful I'm-observing-you look I've come to know well.  A little while after she sat down, someone who'd been seated directly in front of me exited, leaving his backpack on the floor at his table.  I knew the woman was their for a reason, so when she asked me whether I'd noticed the bad, I lied and said that I didn't.  She responded, with a tone of disgust, something to the effect of, "You didn't even notice that?"  One would have to have been blind to not notice.  Of course, when you have nothing to do and no one to talk to, you become more observant.  John T. Cacioppo writes that feeling lonely makes you both more observant of social cues and more likely to misinterpret them.  Interesting who that works, isn't it?

It's not my job to notice abandoned luggage.  I do not pay attention to such things.  I'm not sure why she said that, but I could take a good guess.  I'm supposed to make connections.  This one definitely reminds of one of those women I met at EDD making the comment about my needing to be "reined in" and Kathleen's comment, "It's for your own good, John," and maybe the guy passing me on the street saying, "They're training you."  No--you're not.  I couldn't care less about other people's lost bags.    

Ain't Just Whistlin' Dixie
I'll tell ya...posting on Facebook and GSC has served as a valuable archive I can check for forgotten incidents.  When I was staying at a shelter here in SF called MSC (where I got set up to get thrown out of), an Asian guy who was about 50 would regularly get in the shower at the same time I did and whistle loudly with a shrill undulating tone.  He nearly always took the shower next to me.  I asked him about it a couple times and he made a comment and ignored me and continued.  One night, he was doing it in the stall immediately next to mine and I banged on the wall between us once with my fist.  Fact: When I exited the shower, he was there waiting and was literally jumping up and down, laughing, and pointing at me while saying, "You're violent!  You're violent!"  like a child on a playground who accomplished some great feat.  I could identify him, too.  The more I write, the more I realize the high number of Asian folks involved. 

That's Ms. Bitch To You
I'm trying not to repeat items that appear in The Rundown or I've posted about previously.  I thought maybe I already posted about this, but it's not in The Rundown and it's important and I don't feel like digging through GSC posts, so I'll mention it here.

I suspected Kathleen was spying on my e-mail account.  I discussed this with Connie and she agreed and said that Kathleen was spying on her e-mails as well.  In an attempt to confirm my suspicions, I created another Yahoo e-mail account and sent an e-mail to it in which I used nasty language about Kathleen and her insistence on my being allergic to dairy.  It worked.  Kathleen always used the same coffee mug when I visited her and always sat on my right until the first visit after that e-mail.  That day, she sat on my left and used a different mug that had the message, "That's Ms. Bitch To You."  The text was on the side of the mug immediately to the right of the handle, and was thus facing me which it wouldn't have been if she'd sat where she usually did.  She was cold and distant that day and may have made some other comments which I don't recall.  If the shoe fits... 

Little Andre The Giant
Since I blew out the "Jackie O's Son" post for the purpose of focusing my story and making the information on the blog more digestible, a certain encounter I had has been absent from the blog and should be mentioned here.

At a fast-food restaurant in SF I had a typical encounter with one of my harassers.  It was a tall, large, light-skinned black woman who resembles the late pro-wrestling star, Andre the Giant.  Unlike previous such encounters, I responded to her defensively, as is my right to, and she got flustered and flashed an NYPD badge at me.  I saw her later that day at the library.  Before that, they had me lost in the ambiguity of wondering whether or not my suspicion that many of my harassers are police was correct.  "She" cleared that up for me.

Overheard in New York
Carrie and I talked about writing a book of things you overhear in New York.  It was my idea.  I've since noticed that it's been done.  New York's a big place, but I wouldn't be surprised at all if that book and website can be traced to Mrs. Bruno.  

Anyway, I mention it because of all the things that have been said loudly for me to overhear, this one stands out.  I was on a sidewalk in New York when two women were standing next to me and one nearly shouted at the other, probably as if she was quoting herself from a previous conversation, "Why don't you get married like normal people?" 

You Can Go To Timbuktu
It was to either there or Komomo that Nancy would jokingly banish you if you disagreed with her.  Timbuktu bags are very common in SF, nevertheless, I noticed very early on in my time here that a certain group following me carry them.  That stopped for a long time.  I've noticed them again recently.  It's not only the bag.  They give me that look.  They kind of act like they're "on my side."  You're helping nothing.  You're part of the problem.  I will get video of you.

Psych Experiments
Two operatives have made comments indicating that my "whole life is an experiment."  I'm going to try to list the different experiments going on.  I'm sure I won't get them all.
  • Loneliness Mind-Control: The umbrella experiment is simply to gauge how much my fundamental disposition, beliefs, and attitudes can be altered by setting me up by making me feel lonely.  Lonesome the Dog, a stuffed animal I had as a child, supports this.  There are a number of different aspects of the experiment:
  • Socialist Indoctrination: Obviously, the main focus of the experiment that is my life is to find out if they can make me a socialist and whether or not my children would be born socialists.  This reminds me of Kathleen's unprompted comment, "You shouldn't have children, John."
  • Pattern Recognition: A mind-controlled operative, one of many who enthusiastically encouraged me to take psych meds, made some comments to me about pattern recognition being a valued trait that helps ensure the continuance of a species.  There's a lot in Cacioppo's book about species survival being dependent on socialism.  (I won't cover here how ridiculous that claim is and how natural capitalism is.)  Sure enough, those harassing me establish very subtle patterns that no one else would notice.  I'm mentioned that many times.  I've noticed other patterns dating back many years.
  • Tried To Turn Me Gay: I guessed this a few years ago.  If one has been made vulnerable to influence and suggestion, and ends up in San Francisco where certain operatives have made clear they intend to keep him trapped, he just might turn gay.  I've mentioned that many of those harassing me dating back to my days as a student a OSU are gay.  I mentioned that Laura McCormick Remaly's "husband" is strangely effeminate.  She liked to talk about neuroplasticity, or brain re-wiring.
  • Human-Computer Interaction: Gay Steven Heitman, who dropped a hint to me about Faranda's itemized complaint, is a User Experience Designer.  The title on his card, which I need to scan but have been putting it off, reads, "Information Architect, User Experience Designer Project Manager"
  • Nature v. Nurture: It's been suggested to me that I have a twin or a clone.  This might explain how I've been framed for a few things.  My research lead me to a book about cloning, genetic manipulation, and behavior by John T. Cacioppo's "Loneliness" co-author, William Patrick called "Spirals."  The book's leading female character is an angry feminist named Kathleen.  Obviously, twins separated at birth is the obvious best way to study nature v. nurture, but a clone might do just as well.
  • Coincidence Study: In one of many unprompted comments, Kathleen told me, "There's no such thing as a coincidence."  Recently, I ran across this Epoch Times article on coincidence studies: http://www.theepochtimes.com/n3/581164-the-science-of-coincidences/.  I've experienced quite a few of what appear to be strange coincidences, but it's clear that many of them are manufactured.  If you can read someone's mind and monitor every single thing they do, it's not hard to manufacture coincidences.
  • "Coupling": according to my neighbor, Linda
  • Emotional Intelligence: I've run into this term more than a few times; Movies That Blitz the Mind
  • "Turn a basement guy into a leader": I ran into this somewhere; don't recall where.  Of course, if you were working on a guy since he was five, you could create your basement guy first, I guess.

At least one video has been deleted from my Youtube page by someone other than me.

As I was obtaining this video, just moments after this person in it walked by H2O and did a nonchalant finger-pointing wave at me, she said, "Here he is."  I'm surprised it'd not audible in the clip. 

The Goal Of The Game
I read somewhere that the goal of the game is to figure out the goal of the game.  There's a lot going on in my situation.  One guess would be that the goal is to be that last person remaining from a set group who doesn't get convicted of battery or homicide.  As I've mentioned, these people have been quite obviously trying to keep me frustrated and angry and have the goal of driving me to an act of violence.  I hope I'm wreckin' that game. 

I wonder what Jackie O's favorite Sinatra tune is.  For some reason, I'm inclined to guess Fly Me to the Moon.  Maybe that has something to do with my encounter with A.T. Lynn.  Or maybe, I've Got You Under My Skin.

"White Boy"
I've been called "white boy" and even "nigger" quite a bit by black folks involved.  I write some of it off to the hood, but the fact is, the vast majority of these instances are by those stalking me, such as this guy who whispered "white boy" while he stood next to me on the bus.  Reminds me of the guy who said, "All I do all day is have meetings with 50-year-old white guys and tell them what to do."  For the record:  Because "white boy" doesn't spend all his money on crack, he was able to buy himself a nice set of computer speakers at Goodwill for six bucks.  Harman/Kardon.  It's amazing, how good they are.

A Day at the Beach
I've written about how countless attempts have been made in public to entrap me for pedophilia, which, if someone has been forced into a state of social isolation which also makes them impulsive and has been the subject of a series of death threats and stalking and harassment, they might be likely to fall for.   I've also written of other instances in which I could tell that adults with children near me were acting kind of strange, but it didn't appear that they were trying to bait me.  I would see them look right at me with a look of disdain and then manufacture a separation of themselves from the child as they stood nearby (just enough to be out of the shot.)  I think I wrote about the guy who clearly looked like CIA or the like near the Ferry Building.  Another I recall was by a black woman at a bus-stop.  I've also written of the mention in the book Nemesis of the CIA framing someone with a sex video by using a look-alike.  It's been suggested to me that I have a clone or a twin.

It's difficult to catch video of these incidents because they always happen pretty fast and I've been concerned that as part of the systematic attack on me, if I caught video of such scenes that didn't clearly read (that's TV-production lingo for "evident on film"), someone would point to them as evidence that I'm just shooting video of children, so, I haven't gotten any...until now. 

Another thing I've noticed is that my routines are kept track of and many of these attempts happen when I'm doing one of them, such as when I was sitting on a bench near the Ferry Building and the CIA guy put on a frantic act after having his young child wander in my direction.  So, I started going to Chrissy Field eeeeevery Sunday. ;-)  Last weekend, I noticed the following scenario: A couple with two young children passed in front of me from right to left.  The mother stopped with the younger child in a stroller and the father and the older child on the bicycle continued on.  When they returned a short while later, they walked about fifteen feet past the mother and younger daughter and stopped.  The father left the other daughter at that spot and walked over to join the other two.  The lone daughter removed her shoes and socks and left them at that spot before walking over to join the family.  Why?  If you think there's nothing strange about that, there is something wrong with you.  Happy D-Day.


I'm reminded once again of a conversation I had with a friend about Ohio State's win over Miami for the '02 National Title.  We were actually talking about Mike Doss, possibly the best DB against the run in the history of college football.  My friend said, "Yeah, I remember in the Fiesta Bowl, Miami started gaining yards on a play up the middle.  Then Doss blew it up at the line of scrimmage and they never ran that play again."  This wasn't the play he was referring to, but I'd say it applies as well:


Memorial Day 
I meant to mention this previously.  I attended the recent Memorial Day Service at the National Cemetery in the Presidio.  I got there at just the right time.  I ran to an older couple--Ohio-native Floridians.  I got them there despite a bus-driver giving them incorrect directions.  We split up when we got there just as they were marching the colors in with the crowd following behind.  Before the gate, there was a table set up where some folks were handing out pastries and water.  As I walked toward the table, there were two guys together on the right.  The tall one looked at me with a look of what I can only describe as joyous awe that he was working really hard to hold in.  I said "I'd love a bottle of water."  He scrambled to get me one and, as he handed it to me, the other guy said, quite confidently and loudly, "Yeeeees indeed!"

Coincidence?  Meaningless?  My paranoia?  No, it must be my narcissism, right?  Or my arrogance, maybe?   Yeah...that must be it.  Or maybe it's just my loneliness making me misinterpret social cues.  Yeah, yeah, that's the ticket.  It's all in my head.

My Neighbor, Linda and "Coupling"
I had a chat with my neighbor, Linda, the other night.  She had recently made some cryptic comments to me about "powerful people" doing such things and that I should "play along."  Early in the following video, she questions me about where I stand to hand out my fliers.  Later, at the 1:20 mark, I bring the subject up to her again, telling her that I figured out that I've been the subject of a psychology experiment since age 5.  During the ensuing conversation, she said, "Yeah, it's a coupling experiment."  She also asked whether or not I would be willing to "work with them" and that people who do make a lot of money for doing it.  Most of what she says is unintelligible, but you can hear her say "work with them" around the 3:30 mark.  Then she started talking about people who are above average and below average. 

I'm quite sure that a professional audio engineer could separate short, fat Linda's voice from Leah Remini's.  It's all in the clip.

Have A Nice Life
Jennifer Falls, The University of Toledo, and "Have A Nice Life."
Some time in February, I wrote that I had the vague memory, in which I wasn't very confident, that upon my exiting the Cyberball experiment I took part in at The University of Toledo, the researcher made the comment, "Have a nice life."

Recently, I wrote that I noticed an ad for the new TV Land original series, Jennifer Falls, in which the lead character is fired for having "anger issues."  That made me curious, so I watched the pilot episode.  Jennifer gets a job at her brother's bar and on her first day, an ex-friend, angry lesbian stops in and sits at the bar.  As she walks away, her parting shot is, "Have a nice life."  It's probably just a coincidence, right?  Of course, it's noteworthy that we know the two characters are going to see each other again, so why would she say that at all?  It was a weak piece of TV-writing meant to force the comment into the script.

I've also written that "gloom/gloomy" is one of the key-words for the "visual revolution."  I Googled, "Have a nice life."  The first result is the Wiki page for a Connecticut "shoegaze" band by that name who has a song called--wait for it--"The Big Gloom."  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Have-A-Nice-Life/273357312191

Again...probably just a coincidence.

Oh, and, actually, there is one more thing.  The first image result for "Have a nice life." is shown above.  I don't know about you, but it sure does looks like a "gloomy forest" to me.  Crazy coincidence.  We crazy people see those.

Jennifer Falls #2
In the second episode of Jennifer Falls, I noticed a mention of "mindfulness," a term that's popped in my situation more than once.  Socialist brainwashing intends to destroy self-interest completely and encourages the target to be completely self-sacrificial.  The goal is to burden them with other people's problems, while, or course, no one's looking out for the problems that are being created for them.  Looking back, I can see how they were successful in doing this to me.  In his book, Cacioppo writes about the effect of loneliness on empathy and that feeling lonely makes one eager to please others.  "Mindfulness" is the nice-sounding code-word for socialist brainwashing.

I should also note that the episode included a mention of stalking with a tone of facetiousness, something to the effect of, "Hey, it's the second time I saw you this week.  Are you stalking me?"  Probably just a coincidence. 

Jennifer Falls and The Who
Another thing I noticed in this week's Jennifer Falls episode, but I'm guessing is truly a coincidence, even though I'm reminded of that whole Truman Show thing, was when Jennifer swiped a concert ticket out of someone's back-pocket.  One end of the ticket was sticking out and she just snatched it without the guy noticing.

I saw The Who at the PNC Bank Arts Center in New Jersey some time between 1999 and 2001.  I went with Mike Sarnacola, a guy I worked with in television.  Jimmy Page was supposed to open, but he canceled.  (That was either when he hurt his back or when someone rushed the stage and tried to stab him in Detroit.  I forget which.)  Two buddies of Mike's also went.  I guess you might call them motorhead-types, to put it nicely.  They were kind of being dicks to me, but I was excited to see The Who, so I just kind of ignored them.  In the parking lot before the show, I had my ticket in my back-pocket sticking out exactly like the one in Jennifer Falls was, not thinking I needed to be concerned about some angry, jealous child snatching it from my pocket.  When we started heading into the venue, I reached for my ticket and it was gone.  Mike's friend handed it to me with a chuckle.  Kind of ironic that such a thing would be attributed to Jennifer in the show, isn't it?  Looking back, it's clear that Mike's friends fit the type that are targeting me and my type--positive, ambitious, hustling go-getters who make them look bad without even trying.

I should mention another interesting anecdote from that event.  On the way to the venue, we stopped to get beer and food.  It was at least 85 degrees that day.  When I bought a case of bottled water, Mike and his friends laughed at me condescendingly.  After we'd been standing in the blazing sun in the parking lot for about an hour and had a few beers in us, one of them finally broke down and said, "Man, where's that water?" and they all converged on the cooler for some refreshing H2O.  Yeah--that's how it usually goes for us meanies.

By the way, the concert was great.  They blew the roof off.  Highlights were Magic Bus and The Real Me.  We were at the top of the lawn, and it still sounded good.  Pete Townsend actually made a compliment about the sound--the only time I've ever heard a musician do so.

The Height Thing
Has anyone else noticed that I've written that the bigger revenge-of-the-nerds thing targets people because of height and also wrote that Joey has serious height issues?  I think I wrote that Rick Myers, Columbus t-shirt printer is short as well, didn't I?  I've also written that Joey definitely is connected to the Truman Show thing, haven't I?  Yeah--I think I did.  By the way, Joey, regarding your suit: the fact that I appreciate your refusal to quit doesn't mean I'm going to take it easy on you.  You have so many accomplices, I am quite positive I can find one to sell you out on the stand.

Dim Mak.

New York State Tax Scam
I just want to mention this because it occurs to me that it might not be mentioned on either blog since I blew out the Jackie-O's Son post.  When I was living in Brooklyn, the state of New York "accidentally" sent me a tax return check for $2,000.  I ran right out and cashed it.  10 years later I got a bill for $10,000.  I am quite confident that that is connected to my lifetime setup.

Second Chances
A number of people involved, including a desk attendant at my "behavior hotel," have made comments to me about getting a "second chance."  Please, let me assure you, that is not the issue.  It's a good way to try to keep me feeling guilty and confused, though, so it doesn't surprise me that I've heard it so much.  I'm neither interested in nor seeking a "second chance" and I would appreciate it if the person who is the source of the notion that I might be would please stick it straight up their ass.  It simply does not apply.  Lonesome the Dog says so.

Sub-Freezing Christmas Morning
I've mentioned that many significant encounters with my family occurred during Christmas get-togethers.  During one of those, Joey turned the heat off before leaving on Christmas Eve.  I'm relatively certain Nancy was there, so it must have been '02 or '03.  The temperature was below freezing that night.  At the time, again, I thought maybe something was strange, but he said he'd turned it down while we were all visiting and forgot to return it to the normal temperature.  I now know that that's a lie. He did it intentionally.  He was trying to kill all three of us.

"What do you think of Jackie O?"
I recall at least one occasion one which a female acquaintance brought up the topic of Jackie Onassis and the Kennedys to me, unprompted, and asked my opinion of them.  One was definitely when Jackie died.  I was a student at Ohio State, then.  Another was probably from Carried Plank when John died.  Like Jackie, I'm a big fan of privacy.  I don't follow celebrities and I was never a student of politics.  My disdain for celebrity gossip was intensified when I started working in television in New York.  It's bad form to be star-struck, there.  I'm sure my answer to the question while I was at OSU conveyed apathy at least and is likely being held against me like so many other parts of my life-long setup.  I grew up in Ohio having no idea whatsoever about the identity of my birth-parents.  I do recall being a little bummed when John died, but I don't recall what my reply to Carrie was, though I'm sure she would lie about it.  For reasons I would think would be obvious, John's the only Kennedy I ever paid much attention to.

Another Strange Coincidence (?)
Movies That Blitz The Mind

Escape Velocity
-- Mark Dery

Barbara Ann Clarici: "You're an experiment."

"Behavior Hotel"
Dear Diary:
Below, in this post, you will find mention of a short-lived comic book called, Stalkers.  The Wiki page includes this description: "It concerns a series of people, some mentally unstable, kidnapped to become disposable assassins. A co-story concerns a nihilistic detective and a psychic."  The person in this video, in the typical ominous half-whisper I've come to know so well, said "to someone else," while looking directly at me, "Oh, this is a behavior hotel?"  When they do those things, they always take on a kind of aggressive stance meant to intimidate.  Therefore, I took it as a good sign when, the next time I saw him, he looked a little worried and appeared to be avoiding me. 

Not all of those trained stalkers are meant to be assassins, unless they mean in terms of driving a person to suicide by way of torment through group stalking and harassment.  The point is, I've noticed three people on my floor who are those mind-controlled drones.  It just so happens that they include both of my adjacent neighbors and another on my side of the hall one more room down.  I must be crazy, right?  There are twelve units on the floor.  I've had encounters with just about everyone else, one or two of whose insanity is clearly manifested, and I haven't suspected anyone fother than the three closest neighbors on my side of the hall.  They're all insane to varying degrees, but "Mission Mark" two doors down is the worst by far, then Edward Cotter, then William.  I've come to the conclusion that different political interests use such drones for their own purposes.  One of the desk attendants at my building is also part of the whole thing, having directed some comments and questions at me that fit the pattern of the ongoing attempts to keep me confused and constantly under interrogation.  He, like a few others, brought up The Manchurian Candidate to me out of the blue.  All things considered, including "Work with them" Linda from Taiwan, I'm forced to conclude that my current neighbors are controlled by socialist interests.  Oh, and then, there's that rice cooker.

Conservative or Liberal
I started handing out fliers by the ballpark not long ago.  I get more enthusiastic reaction more often there than anywhere else.   The second or third time I went, there was a small group of people there who I suspected from the time I arrived.  Sure enough, it turned out they were waiting for me.  They were all decked out in Giants gear.  One of them approached me and said that he knew what I was talking about an that he had been a social worker.  Then he added that he worked in a psych ward for a year and a half and said, "Yeah--I learned to be strictly conservative after that."  That's a typical way they threaten me.

One of the great things about New York is that you never know what you're going to get when you meet someone.  You simply cannot read a book by its cover there.  San Francisco is the opposite; the vast majority wear their political uniform proudly and pointedly, and assume that everyone else does as well.  It's kind of sad.  I think most of the country is actually that way, though, and New York stands out in its not being that way.  I wore a red tie to a substitute teaching job in Columbus once, and some regular teacher started lecturing me, insinuating that I was a conservative Republican, with no prompting.  The whole time, I'm thinking, "Um...I'm a Democrat, idiot."  I've met a number of New Yorkers who a San Franciscan would assume by their looks must be a far-left liberal but, upon talking to them, turned out to be a moderate or conservative Democrat or even a Republican.  I've also experience the reciprocal of that.  There's a strange trend among Democrats that worries me.  I hope it's only an SF thing: To be a true Democrat, you must look unkempt and angry or generally jaded.  My look back at myself and my socialist brainwashing supports this.  New York changed me for good.  If only I'd known socialist losers had been undermining me pretty much my entire life--you might be watching me every night at 6:30.  I've got all the tools for it.

News Flash to the guy who was waiting for me near the ball park and all his friends and enemies:  I do not have to be either extreme conservative or extreme liberal.  All I have to be is pro-American and anti-socialist, which would, of course, make me capitalist by default.  Otherwise, my ideologies and opinions are none of your fucking concern so I suggest you stop showing up.  I am not stuck.  I am not stranded.  Now is a good time to mention my conversation some time within the past two years with a Youngstown cousin who'd made a comment to me in '08 or '09 insinuating that I'm a pedophile.  She was very, very nervous during our conversation and dropped a hint indicating that my situation is, in fact, being investigated.  I promise you, that investigation is not state or local.  Finally, when I asked, somewhat intimidatingly, "Karen, if you give half a shit about the U.S. Constitution, you're gonna tell me what that cop said," she got scared in hung up.  Throughout the conversation, her voice quivered and she chose her words carefully.  It wasn't a dream.  She wasn't acting.  My politics are none of your fucking business so just don't bother showing up.  Nothing you do or say matters any more.  You are wasting your time.

Spoiler Alert
Dear Diary:
I've been manipulated into a socially and financially crippled position.  While I was handing out fliers at the ballpark recently, a plain-clothes cop or CIA or whatever walked by and said, "Movin' too fuckin' slow to wear down, huh?"--a surprisingly lucid observation.  Um...I'm not really looking to "win" anything.  My main motivation is simply to hold out and never give in, mainly for the purpose of standing up for Nancy since I didn't do it then and there's no one else doing it now.  At the same time, I'm building a mountain of evidence that proves I am not insane.  By default, then, I am pursuing the goal of spoiling everyone screwing with me, including those who keep dropping hints about being a leader.  (See recent addition to psych experiments above.)  I should add that my devotion to Nancy isn't an emotional thing at all.  No one ever did more for me than she did.  I just feel it's my duty since her only blood offspring is the one behind the gross indignity she suffered and her only husband had no choice but to sell her out when I brought it up because he very clearly was also aware of Joey framing me.  I'm looking not to win, but rather, just not to give in.  My only possible victory is by spoiling.  My intent is to spoil as many as possible, especially the person or group behind Lonesome the Dog. Whatever it is I'm being trained or tested for will not happen.

Google News Archive
Has anyone else noticed that it has pretty much disappeared?  It happened right after I posted about Jackie.

Reading Material
I've mentioned that often operatives involved will sit near me and act as if they're studying something very intently.  Other times--and this is one of the most common acts--they will sit down next to me very gently or softly, conspicuously so.  Often, they are of southeast Asian origin. Many other times, it's a woman, usually white; almost never a straight white guy.  They'll give me that purposeful glance I've come to know and the title of the book will somehow be significant to my situation or they'll open it, very slowly, to a page with a sub-title that's significant.  The loneliness set-up makes me hyper-curious about everything, so I always look, plus, their presence, confirmed by the pattern of sitting down gently, glancing at me, and often wearing all black, causes irritation which further compels me to look.  On one occasion, it was a woman with a book about "emotional intelligence."  Today, this guy sat down next to me very gently, glanced at me and opened to a page subtitled, "An American Vision."  Their actions imply that we're buddies or cohorts somehow, which we definitely are not. 

Jeptha Wade
I guy I've seen at the SFPL who's absolutely apart of all this and bears a strong resemblance to a young Jeptha Wade.

Ugly Me To Death
It's become apparent that part of what's being done to me is constantly expose me to unpleasant visual input.  This idiot, "John" from Boston via the Air Force you have sticking on me at workfare is positively difficult to look it.  He's constantly slobbering on himself and he can barely speak proper English.  It really is a tactic these people use.  Here's another connection.  The last time I visited Joey in Florida, he and Lisa brought me to a "club."  They were acting kind of strange.  I didn't make a comment then, of course, but I swear to you, the place was filled with ugly people.

I should also mention one other thing about Ugly John.  (Wasn't that a character in the early days of MASH?)  On some occasions, our boss drops us off somewhere other than the place we all meet.  Tuesday, she was going to drop us off at a certain corner.  On the way, I told her I wanted to jump out before that spot.  Ugly John had made no indication of wanting to get out early, but when I jumped out, he said, "Oh, yeah--I'm getting out, too."  He jumped out and turned turned on me and looked at me as if he thought I was going to run and he was going to chase me.

Memo to Ugly John:  You are your co-workers are bunch of dumb-fucks.

Fla. Ugly Club Amendment: I forgot to mention this.  The memories and their significance can be slow in coming.  The decor at the Ugly Club Joey and Lisa brought me to was noticeably outdated.  The visit was in 2004 or 2005.  I would say that, at the very latest, the last time that "club" had been redecorated was the late 70s.  That was the same trip Joey knocked me out with the asthma inhaler and sang Ever Breath You Take when we split up at the airport.


Sanity Now!
Interesting ad campaign.  They just popped up all over San Francisco on the 4th.  I don't think there's anything significant about it.  It just caught my eye for some reason.  I guess that might be because a covert network of operatives has been trying to drive me insane for some years now.  I don't think there's anything to it, though.  Just me being paranoid.

Monkey See, Monkey Do
I've mentioned that a major way they manipulate your is through verbal input, both oral and written.  But, another main way is by acting in strange ways around you after you've been set up to be highly vulnerable to suggestion.  They mainly act spastic or maybe depressed, or loud and obnoxious.  It's all meant to undermine yourOne way I'm aware of now is that when I lived in New York, I noticed that people would rush to seat themselves at their table next to me at a restaurant.  People walk really fast there and it's very fast-paced in general, so I figured that was just a normal New York thing and started doing it semi-consciously.  I now know that that's part of the brainwashing experiment.  

Sometimes, when my phone is plugged into my laptop and I go to upload a photo to the blog, a systems folder opens.  Not sure why that is.  I'm not really a computer guy.  I noticed something today about Dependent Libs.  Some kind of list.  Anybody know what that is? 

John H. Noble
I mentioned, at some point previously, an out-of-place video that kept popping up on my Youtube results titled, "I was a slave in Russia."  It's actually a video based on a book.  I never specifically researched it's author, John H. Noble, until now.  Turns out he spent several years in a Soviet gulag.  His family owned a photo-finishing company.

It has been suggested that I am being punished for something my ancestors did, which compels me to suspect that fabricating lies about that very subject is at the core of the attack I am under.  Doctored photos play a major, major role in the attack on me in various ways.  Some of the out-loud comments to no one made for me to overhear by the crazy remote-controlled, or, yes--possessed, people I've been surrounded with are telling.  Yesterday, my neighbor in room #411 at the Boyd, Mission Mark, went on a particularly violent tirade which included constant loud banging on the walls of a shower adjacent to a restroom I was using.  He entered just after I entered and exited less than five minutes before I exited.  Then, later, during a spastic out-loud tirade that included his singing, "Hit the road, Jack," he added, "I'm going to find every one of you and hang you."

I am of anything but Soviet and/or socialist blood.  I know the truth about the subject and if things don't clear up, I will start promoting it very aggressively.  

Gene Locastro…My Friend...From Long Island...Baby Moon “Hired Gun” 
Dear Diary: 
I moved to New York City in August of 1996.  A former Ohio State roommate was living there in Long Island City.  For those of you not familiar with it, Long Island City is not Long Island.  It’s a little neighborhood in Queens just across the East River from Manhattan, an easy shot on the 7-train from midtown.  The 7’s a great train.  I had told friends in Niles that I had a place to crash and that I intended to hustle up a bartending job and then network my way into television production, which is what I did.  I recall one of them saying to me on a visit to Niles sometime over the next two years, “Damn, Zoc—you said that’s what you were gonna do and you did it.”  Hustled, I did.  Did what I was going to say I would, I did, despite numerous operatives planting defeating thoughts in my mind, i.e., “Oh, it’s way too difficult to get into television in New York.  I wouldn’t even try it.”  

I actually had an interview for a door-to-door business phone system sales job which I got hired for but promptly blew off and starting hitting bars and restaurants.  I had an in at the Bear Bar, so I got weekend afternoon shifts there and kept looking for additional shifts elsewhere.  I’d just pick a block or neighborhood with a lot of potentials and walk up one side and down the other, stopping in at every one, saying, “I heard you need a bartender.”  (That’s the way to do it.) 
On one of those nights when I just happened to be heading down 2nd Avenue—or was it Lexington?—at a brisk pace, I stopped in to a little Italian restaurant called Bella Blaire.  The other bartender was a nice guy with a serious problem with alcohol.  He was a University of Virginia fan; may have been an alumnus; don’t recall exactly.  The owner of the bar was a 60-something semi-retired corporate wheeler-dealer who stopped in for thirty minutes a night and split.  His 40-something hot Asian wife ran the place.  Mr. Virginia got a kick out of pouring he and I Mind Erasers while they stood right in front of the bar facing the other way.  I was still new to the city at the time.  It was quite an experience.  
I repeat: I entered Bella Blaire “randomly.”
The cook at Bella Blaire was a short, bald guy named Gene Locastro.  I’m not sure how, but Gene and I hit it off.  Actually, it was probably because I crashed on his floor on 73rd Street for a week maybe, a favor I later returned.  Gene introduced me to Stan Katz, the owner of the building.  Stan mentioned he had a room available in his other building on 75th Street, which I jumped on.  The room had no window, but did have a skylight; my first Manhattan apartment—a large closet with a sink and a bed.   Later, I moved down the hall to a larger closet with a window on the front of the building—stylin’.  
Great story about Stan…
I bought a straight cap (which the CIA or NSA or whoever it is fucking with me so much stole out of my van here in San Francisco) at a men’s shop near The Empire State Building.  I couldn’t find a price-tag on it, so I had to ask the clerk.  He said it was $40.  It seemed slightly steep, but I liked the hat, so I got it.  I ran into Stan on the porch of the building later that week and he commented on it.  I handed it to him and he looked it over.  He said, “Eh, a Borsalino, that’s a nice hat, John.  How much did they get ya for?”  When I told him, he frowned, said he’d worked in the hat business, and turned over the hat’s inside label to reveal a price tag that read $30.  A good lesson for a new New Yorker.

Anyway, I met Gene Locastro by randomly stopping in and getting a bartending job at Bella Blaire, where he was the cook.  We hung out from time to time.  He’s a big indie-rock fan and a big Luna fan.  Luna’s music has been referred to as “dream rock.”  Gene really tried hard to get me to be a fan of them.  I didn’t get it until we went to their show at the Bowery Ballroom.  I remember Gene’s seafood salesman business card.  His number changed three or four times and I had them written all over the card.  Somehow, though, we lost touch with each other for over a year.  His number changed, mine changed.  We both moved.  Those things happen.
Then one night, when I was heading home during normal rush hour from an unusually short day at VH1, I step on the 9-train and, randomly, miraculously, there’s east-sider, Gene.  Gene was a recovering alcoholic and apparently lapsed now and then.  He’d invite me out for beers and we’d usually avoid getting drunk, but I did run into him a few times when he was pretty ripped.  Gene’s short and bald.
Gene was a decent cook—mainly Italian.  His fulltime job was selling seafood to restaurants and caterers, but he worked a lot of weekends and holidays as a cook at a place called Baby Moon…on Long Island.  He referred to himself as a “hired gun” for those jobs.  
Gene said he was originally from New Hampshire.  Motto: Live free or die.  I believe he went to high school on Long Island, though.  His parents had split up when he was young or something.  He got together with his dad occasionally.
Carrie and I went to a few couples counseling sessions with an upper-east side therapist on a referral from Gene’s wife, Karyn.  (I hope I spelled that correctly.  She got back at me with a name misspelling, once.  She was apparently upset about it.)  Karyn and Carrie were both teachers, so they had the same insurance.  We went two or three times and I said I didn’t want to go any more because I was disillusioned with the way it appeared to me that it was nothing but refereeing we were getting.  Later, I realized that probably would have changed in subsequent sessions, but, considering what we know now, that really is a moot point, isn’t it?  It occurs to me that the therapist’s office was not far at all from Jacqueline Onassis’ condo.  I’m pretty sure it was just off Fifth in the low 80s.  Interesting, but probably a true coincidence.  (There’s something in Cacioppo’s book or in that article about coincidence studies about real coincidences and perceived coincidences, by the way.)

Twice, between television jobs, I worked as a delivery driver for the seafood company Gene worked for.  The guy who ran it was basically drumming up business and delivering for another seafood company, which didn’t seem to mind the biz, though they didn’t like him so much.  He was pretty screwed up.   He and short, bald Gene went to A.A. meetings together.   He’s probably dead by now, but I will refrain from mentioning his name anyway.  Gene mentioned that he had less than conventional sexual tastes, was into transvestites.  I recall occasionally seeing some related magazines stuffed behind the seat of one of the vans.  One may have had some underage models.   I mention it because it occurs to me now that Carrie (from Long Island) had been sexually abused by a foster brother when she was young.   Said the Reverend nearly choked him to death.  I might have done the same.
A friend suggested to me once that Gene was a cop.  I couldn’t think of a reason a cop would be interested in me, so I didn’t believe him.  Short, bald Gene from Long Island was already working at Bella Blaire as a cook when I “randomly” stopped in and applied for a bartending job there, a truly amazing coincidence if he’s a cop investigating me, right? 

I sometimes found my communication with Gene to be a bit strange.  At times, he would be very excited about getting together, and then at others, he would blow me off.   

In 2008, when I went to New York for a friend’s wedding, I got together with Gene for lunch and visited him and his wife and their young daughter, Brooke, at their new place in Fort Lee, New Jersey.  At one point, one of them suggested I go see Brooke in her bedroom.  When I did, they both rushed in about a minute later.
I spoke with Gene a few times after I came to San Francisco.  On one of those occasions, we were talking and he asked me where I was.  I reminded him that I was in San Francisco.  He said, “No, where you at right now, exactly?”  Why would that possibly matter to someone in New York?  Also while in SF, I’d gotten in touch with a former television news associate who did the same thing, which was even more odd—I know someone got to him recently before that.  He never had anything to do with it other than that, which confirms my suspicions that someone is contacting all my friends and telling them these lies.
Memo to the individual who first accused me of and/or framed me for pedophilia:
Either get a bodyguard or run and hide, because if I find you, I will crack your fucking skull wide open.  

Geno Locastro...My Friend Amendment or The Black Angels Song-List
Did I mention that I've noticed people following me who wear all black?  I think I may have.  Not sure.  Research on your own.  I'm pretty sure I've written some things about induced loneliness and being forced into a state of isolation as well.  I've said that I'm being manipulated and that a network of individuals is stalking and harassing me with the goal of making it so that I am destitute and constantly on the run.  It's been suggested to me repeatedly that I am dead.  I've written that what is happening to me is much like a haunting.  I've written that I am being denied pleasure and satisfaction.  I've also written that my good ol' buddy, Gene Locastro suggested I check out the indie-rock group, The Black Angels.  Here are a few Black Angels song titles:

First album, Passover:
Young Men Dead
Better Off Alone
Bloodhounds on my Trail

Second album, Directions to See a Ghost
You On The Run
No Satisfaction

Third album, Phosphene Dream
Haunting at 1300 McKinley

Fourth album, Indigo Meadow
Don't Play With Guns
You're Mine
Black Isn't Black

While most of those are obvious, you may not see the significance of others.  I'm sure their lyrics will yield even more interesting material.  Devo covered the Rolling Stones' Satisfaction.  Gene Locastro thinks I'm a pedophile (or is part of the conspiracy to make me one) and suggested this band to me.  Gene worked three miles from Speonk, where the Planks live.  I guarantee you--it's all a coincidence.  Someone, please, call me a rubber truck.  I'll be waiting outside.

Baby Moon to Speonk...3.5 Miles
I never realized how close Baby Moon is to Speonk, where the Planks are from.  I fail to mention in the video that Baby Moon is actually in West Hampton, where Carrie Plank went to high school.

Speonk to Baby Moon Amendment or The Reluctant Reverend
If your daughter were getting married, would you want to meet your future son-in-law's parents?  Of course, you would.  Carrie and I never actually got engaged, but we talked about it, and I assure you that Reverend Plank wanted us to marry in the worst way.  That’s why it struck me as strange when he and Fran made a trip to visit family in Ohio and at first, twice actually, declined to stop in Niles to see my parents despite the fact that they would be driving right by Niles on Route 80.  The exit sign actually reads, “Niles.”  I recall being a bit dumbfounded about it, but I assumed they just didn’t want to impose.  Then again, the trip to Bellfontaine/Lima is about 10 hours, so it’s not one they make all the time.  In fact, during the four years Carrie and I dated, that was the only one I recall.  I had to cajole them and, finally, they gave in and stopped in Niles on the way back.  Not a big deal?  Hmmm…maybe not.  I do recall one other instance of David being oddly reluctant, though.

When Gene told me about Baby Moon, I brought it up to the Rev and suggested we all go there for dinner, not necessarily because Gene might have been working at the time, but just to check out the place and the food where my good buddy works.  I liked my short, bald friend, Gene Locastro from Long Island (but not nearly as much as my short, bald friend, Wayne Carderelli from Warren, Ohio).  I knew he was a pretty good cook, so I figured the food there was probably good whether he was working or not.  Again, a bit perplexingly, the Rev wasn’t too keen on the idea.  I don’t recall what his excuse was and if I said it was because it was too far from Speonk, I would guess that to be a self-serving figment of my imagination.  He just kept trying to play it off, and I, of course, had no idea why, so I wouldn’t let it go.  He finally relented, but only to ordering in so we would eat at the Plank condo.  Getting it to go wasn’t what I had in mind at all and he knew that.  I recall thinking, “Hmmm…that’s odd.", mainly because going out to dinner was Carrie, her parents' and I's main social activity together.  They love going out to dinner.  They treated us to Peter Luger's on my birthday!  The first time I met them was at a Vietnamese place on Columbus just a few blocks from Carrie's place on 81st.  Strange, no?  Oh, I'm probably just being paranoid.  Forget I brought it up.

Just for kicks, then, I should briefly mention, again, a couple of other points that properly illustrate my extreme case of paranoia:
  1. Carrie once showed me her high school year book.  She held it on her lap, leafed through two or three pages, and slammed it shut. 
  2. In the strangest Plank event of them all, the Reverend approached me, unprompted, with an angelic smile and handed me a folder.  "Here, John..."  It was a prom portrait of Carrie with a black date.
Note: If you intend to sue me, be forewarned:  A posessed operative on the street in SF made the comment to me, "You know, a trust accrues interest over the course of generations."  I will counter-sue.  I'll will hire a high-priced team and I'll pay them what ever it takes to make sure you take a net loss and end up ruined.  I'll be bringin' the wood and I'll be swingin' it hard, but not until I've dragged you through a field of thorns first.  "There's nothin' like a nice piece of hickory."

The Final Dagger,  the cherry on the cake, if you will, is a surprise I'm saving for Mrs. Bruno.

Killing Them Softly ???

Need to Destroy the Unknowing Heir to a Fortune?  Where Would You Start?
If you had knowledge of an adoptee who's heir to a massive fortune or beneficiary of a massive trust and you wanted to destroy him secretly, where would you start?  It occurred to me recently that it might be quite logical to start by manufacturing lies about the identity of his parents.  That would make sense, wouldn't it?  It's been suggested to me that I'm being punished because of something one of my ancestors did.  It's been suggested that my father was Errol Flynn, a known pedophile.  Someone else suggest that my father is Lee Harvey Oswald.  That's just to name a couple. 

I am compelled to rectify that piece of misinformation.

Trained to Lose? 
Dear Diary:
I made an entry about a guy who made a strange comment to me about a "Behavior Hotel."  Last night, while I was watching TV, he entered the room singing, "Chain of fools," but my paranoia made it sound like "Trained to lose."

Eagle Eye
Have you seen the movie, Eagle Eye?  My situation is a little like that, but not nearly as exciting.

Even More from BW-3
This was probably a true coincidence, but I have to mention it.  One night when I was working at BW-3, a French guy came in and was being an ass from the time he walked up to the bar.  I carded him and he refused to show any and flipped out and called me a "stupid American."  I couldn't believe my ears.  Generally speaking, the incident fits the way I get baited. 

I'd like to know more exact details, such as those that might be available from reading about the Gavin Welby-Doris Duke-Kennedy connection, but I'm sick of reading about it and I don't think it matters anyway.

Babe Paley's at the center of it all.  I might guess that Kathleen Kashay and Kate Paley are twins.

I guess I should also mention that Katherine Mortimer dated Joe Kennedy Jr.

My life will not continue in this fashion. 

"Trigger" Film At San Francisco State University
Dear Diary:
This is mentioned prominently on GSC, but it's so important that I feel compelled to mention it here.

When I still had money, I enrolled in a TEFL course here in San Francisco.  The room was filled with anti-American feminist operatives plus some guy who made a comment about "only the umpires knowing all the rules."

One of those women was Barbara Clerici, who said, "You're an experiment."  Another was A.T. Lynn, a hypno-therapist who suggested I would be shot to the moon.  Another made a comment about "behavior management."  I'm relatively certain that was Lisa Nicolosi.  Another was Norah Salah, a heavy-set woman of middle-eastern descent who's Facebook photo at the time was a burning letter, M--the one shown here, exactly, I believe, but possibly with a different background.

Another classmate of mine was Miyako Abe.  I researched Ms. Abe on the internet and found that she starred in a strange student film made at San Francisco State University called, "Trigger."  I don't recall exactly, but Ms. Abe may have been the only person in it.  The film featured her in lonely settings such as a dark, shadowy hallway, all with her thoughts as a narration.  I recall another shot of her washing her hands and looking in the mirror while thinking to herself, the sound of the trickling water made prominent.

After I posted about the film on GSC, it changed to something completely different at its URL.  I sent Miyako an e-mail to ask her about it.  See her response here. 

I've been forced into a state in which I'm always hyper-curious, so, I can't help but to wonder--why would such a film be called, "Trigger?"  I'll give ya a hint:  I've written that those doing this to me are intent on keeping me isolated and in a constant state of frustration and anger with goal of driving me to an act of violence.

More On SFSU Film, Trigger
I'm relatively certain that one of those shots in "Trigger" was of Miyako all by her lonesome in a dimly light hallway, perhaps with a light source behind her.  It's not very clear; the washing-her-face shot is the one that stands out.  The point is, spooky, silhouette or silhouette-like shots are a common tool for these folks, kind of like the shot on Andrew Kevin Walker's Twitter account, shown here.  I've seen them elsewhere, but those two stand out.

Band on the Run (The Scooter Alpert File)
New York's a tough town.  My second job there was at Fox News Channel.  I had no connections, so I was freelance and after about a year and a half, I started getting less shifts.  I basically quit FNC, though they continued to call me occasionally for shifts.  To replace it, I'd gotten, through a neighbor, steady temp work that paid well enough in a copy/mail room at a bankruptcy claims agency.  While there, I got a call out of the blue from my old boss at FNC, Stu Kasloff.  He'd gotten the job as News Director at VH1 and needed a P.A.  I jumped on it.

I was hired for a Countdown to the Millennium project which I've written about elsewhere on my blogs.  It got shelved and after that I mostly worked on Roshumba hosting daytime videos.  At one point, though, I got moved to a different team to work on a 30-minute special for Paul McCartney's Band on the Run 25th Anniversary release.  The producer was Scooter Alpert.  I don't recall the A.P.'s name.  I was the P.A.  I recall Scooter being a bit of a dick to me, but it was all very subtle and ambiguous--not unlike his sexual orientation--and I had no reason to suspect anything at the time.  I wouldn't even mention Scooter here if it weren't for a specific incident during a Band on the Run edit session and, looking back, I see other things about Scooter that may or may not be significant.  You be the judge.  It's ok to judge--as long as you have accurate information.

During the Band on the Run edits, I recall Scooter making a pointed comment about not wanting to go too far with the quality of the production for fear of appearing as if VH1 were sucking up to McCartney.  I figured he was making the comment as someone who was serious about journalism and maybe felt a little consternation at the thought of doing news at a second-tier music channel.  Then again, if not Paul McCartney, who would VH1 suck up to?  My thought was, do the best job you can no matter what.  I was bit perplexed.  I'm just a smalltown hick from Ohio.  I believe he made the comment when the Broadway editor offered to make the VH1 logo at the end of the show float forward for an extra 50 bucks.  Nope--Scooter put the kabash on that.

Wait, wait--actually...that might not have been when he said it.  There is a shot in the show taken from the McCartney video, No More Lonely Nights.  It's a brief clip in which, as I recall, Ringo Starr is in the boat and raises his glass high above his head to make a toast.  I skimmed the video on Youtube and can't find it.  There may be two different versions of it or maybe McCartney had another video with the same theme.  It doesn't matter.  The point is, the Broadway Video editor said, "Check this out." and made a nice edit in which he synced up the high point in the guitar solo to Starr raising his glass in slow motion.  It was a cool edit.  The assistant editor said, "Hey, that sounds like David Gilmour," to which I replied, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it is Gilmour," recalling having heard upon its original release that he appeared on the song.  It must have been after that edit session that the assistant editor offered for me to ditch VH1 and come work at Broadway.  Either way, Scooter nixed the edit.  Yeah--I'm pretty sure that's the one when he made the the no-suck-up-to-Sir-Paul comment.  I recall being befuddled to say the least.

Believe it or not, though, I still haven't told ya why I mention Scooter here.  Observe...

One of a VH1 P.A's, or any television-news P.A's main responsibilities is locating video clips requested by the producer or A.P.  The Viacom tape library includes compilation reels of various topics.  They're mostly categorized by artist, but there are others.  During the Band on the Run Special Production, Scooter requested a shot of McCartney on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine.  I found a comp reel with nothing but Rolling Stone covers.  I don't recall there being a log of the tape, so I had to search it manually, which you can do easily by fast-forwarding after you've done it for a while. (I received many compliments on my work in television, everywhere I worked.)  The tape contained at least four different RS covers featuring McCartney, but only and exactly one with the text, "Band on the Run."  (It may have been the one shown here, but, for some reason, I recall it looking different, possibly with the more modern title font RS switched to later--a special commemorative issue, maybe.)  VH1 was understaffed and I was always busy as hell, so I forgot to note the timecode of the shot when I previewed the tape.  When we got to that point of the show in the edit session, the assistant editor popped in the reel.  The editor found one of the clips without the Band on the Run text and was going to insert it in show.  Again, I was always out to do the very best job I could.  I knew the cover I had in mind would make the show better.  Despite concerns of getting an earful for not writing down the timecode, I quickly interjected: "Ya know what, Scooter, there's actually another McCartney cover on the reel that says "Band on the Run."  The A.P. (also gay) quickly replied with disgust something to the effect of, "Oh, no there's not.  Just use this one.  We don't have time."  Scooter followed suit.  I insisted the cover was there.  With a display of positively childish irritation, knowing he had no choice but to search for the clip, he begrudgingly instructed the editor to do so.  After less than ten minutes of searching, the editor found the clip.  Both editors expressed reservations during the search, but one of them turned me and nodded approval as if to say, "Good job." after they found it.   The A.P. responded with a verbal and visual display of anger.  Scooter actually acted disappointed at finding out that I was right.  For a minute there, I thought he might start crying.  At this point, I could not figure out what the problem was and was completely confused.  Until now, I figured it was because I went to Ohio State and Scooter went to Brown and he thought I showed him up in the edit.  I delivered the comment as softly as I could in the truest sense of helping.  I think it was the first time in television I stood up to a producer in that fashion.  Actually, now that I think of it, it was after that session, which may have been the same session as the Ringo clip, that the guy from Broadway invited me over.

There's actually more about Scooter, though... I recall mentioning to him that I'd just finished reading Tuesdays with Morrie.  He responded, again, with some disgust, that it was okay but "too self-serving."  Are socialists against self-interest? 

Then, there was a time when Scooter came over to my cube at the office and said, without prompting, "You aren't fooling anybody."  I recall being perplexed about that, too.  I figured he meant that he thought I was a closeted gay.  The staff at VH1 was at least half gay, then--something I didn't think a thing of.

One other note from Broadway Video:  During my first few years in television, I paid very close attention in every edit in session because I wanted to learn fast.  I later found out that that pisses some editors off, but not others.  Edit houses schmooze clients like any vendor does.  Broadway Video was pretty nice.  I recall them having a pool table, etc.  They also had a large-breasted, black female assistant there who came into the edit and started chatting with me as I was sitting nearest the door and was the only straight guy on the VH1 team.  I acknowledged her, but wouldn't take my eyes of the screen.  She may have offered for me to take a break from the edit.  I wouldn't budge.  Finally, she said, "Wow--your girlfriend must be good" and walked away.  One of two things happened there: I blew chance at a great blow job or Scooter was trying to get me out of the edit.  (I had so many opportunities to cheat on Carrie that I passed on, I couldn't keep track.)

More from the Scooter File
This isn't the first time I mentioned the Band on the Run edit.  I believe I mentioned it in passing a couple years ago, but all I wrote then was that we got high during the edit session, which should be included here.  Yes, that's right--we weren't too deep into the session when Scooter busted out a joint.  I'm not opposed to getting high, but I am opposed to it at work.  That's the only time I've ever done that.  I didn't want to go along, but because of the bad vibe I was getting from Scooter, I was concerned about what might happen if I didn't.

Scooter was ahead of his time, a real pioneer.  He was in the habit of using his small automatic film camera to get what he referred to as "self-portraits" of himself with all the celebrities he met during his work in television.  I think he called them self-portraits because he shot them himself, the same way one might take the now so-common "selfie."  He had a stack of prints about an inch thick.  He had the Rolling Stones.  He had Boy George.  He had Hillary Clinton.  He was really proud of those things.

Hmmmm...let's see...is there something else about Scooter I should mention?  Not about him specifically, but about someone in, shall we say, close proximity to him?  I can't remember exactly what it is, but I'm sure it will come to me.  Perhaps while I'm thinking about it, someone can come and call me "my nigga" one more time. 

Scooter & Bob
At my first job in television, I had a "friend" named R. Desmond "Bob" Higgins.  We got together to play guitar or for a beer occasionally.  We went to see Page & Plant along with FNC friend, Matt Schwartz.  I helped him move.

Bob knew Scooter before I knew either of them.  Once, over a beer, he said, "So, what do you think of Scooter?  Do you think he's gay?"  I said I wasn't sure.  I said he kind of acted gay, but it was hard to tell and I didn't know of him having a boyfriend.  Bob replied, "I think he's asexual."

The only thing I can think of noteworthy about Bob is that he expressed disdain for the message in the Soundgarden song, "My wave."  The main chorus is "Keep it off my wave."  Bob indicated that he didn't like it because it indicated a disregard for others' problems, a viewpoint that coincides well with a dislike of self-interest.  Indeed, I have learned that a major aspect of the socialist brainwashing I've been subject to burden the target's mind with problems that positively are not his.

When I was still hearing more death threats than I am currently and was constantly being stalked, I reached out to Bob just as I reached out to contact other former TV associates--including Scooter.  Bob and I exchanged a few e-mails.  Two or three years ago, Bob made a trip to San Francisco for work or something.  He contacted me and suggested we get together.  The main topic of our conversation was him trying to convince me that I'm insane.

"It's all a dream."
Oh, really? 

On a number of occasions over the past few months, people near me have made comments instructing me to relax or chill, suggesting that everything is going to be fine.  I've covered this before.  Part of me very much believes that's the case, but every day I wake up in the Tenderloin is exactly that--another day I wake up in the Tenderloin.  I might also mention that some guy tried to push me into traffic the other day before scurrying off.  I will not run penniless.  My life will not continue in this fashion.

A Final Note from BW-3: Ron Filippelli
When I applied at BW-3, Ron Filippelli was on duty at the bar.  It was to him that I submitted my application.  We got to be work buds and I never really gave a great deal of thought to his politics, you know?  I was just trying to get through school.  Ron was a little radical, well read, and pretty smart. I recall that when Matt set me up for the mean-to-a-blind-person scam, Ron stuck up for me, saying, "Oh, come one, Matt, it was an honest mistake," which is true, of course, though there's actually a little more to it.  Here's what's interesting, though: I remember when I first started getting negative feedback from Matt.  In another cryptic, unpromted comment, Matt said, "Oh, I don't have a problem with Ron."  I couldn't figure out what I'd done to piss him off.  I've mentioned that I suspect that right-wing and left-wing socialists are, to a degree, working together or at least tolerate each other.  Matt was referring, or course, to my mixed relationship.  Whether Ron knew about that, I don't know.  He probably didn't, but I suspect he knew the seriousness of getting "written up" for being mean to a blind person.

Ron was a political science major.  He was a daily reader of the New York Times, which isn't such a terrible thing and somewhat rare at OSU.  One memory of Ron that sticks with me was one night at the bar after a shift change or perhaps while we were on together when the topic of militias came up among us and guests at the bar.  Ron said with an heir of radical confidence, "Oh, we still have militias.  Now, they're called the Bloods and the Cryps."  I recall another political conversation in which he said to someone else, jokingly, "Oh, you're getting all conspiratorial on me now.  I wouldn't know anything about that."

Ya know what...it's completely possible that Ron has nothing to do with any of this.  I just mention him for the same reason I mentioned the psych experiment at Toledo.  There are things about Ron I just can't ignore.  Also, I've learned that the socialists targeting me are fantastic at covering what they do and acting like they're your buddy and always being very nice.  And the fact of the matter is, my earliest memories of negative encounters that I now know are part of socialist brainwashing occurred at BW-3.  

As I mentioned, Ron was a political science major.  He is now the Director of the Computer Help Desk at the College of Arts & Sciences at The Ohio State University.  There's a very helpful Youtube video of Ron offering advice on how to avoid malware, etc.  I guess he must know a lot about that stuff.  Perhaps, I'll use him as an expert witness.  Yes, we were all just innocent, happy students at old OSU.  (I don't mention the following event not because I think it's necessarily indicative of something suspicious, but, rather, just because I want to.)  Our relationship was so comfortable that, on a whim one night, probably when Ron replaced me at the bar, his girlfriend, Felicity, and I went down the street to see Columbus Deadhead band Local Color at another bar.  It was a great show.  The set included Pink Floyd's, Fearless, the first time I'd heard it.  On the word, "smiling," Felicity turned to me and used her index fingers in front of her smiling mouth to outline a smile growing from the center to both sides. (We were probably high.)   

Anyway...Ron's a poli-sci major now heading up the computer help desk at the largest college at OSU.  Did I mention that Ron's a big 49ers fan?  You know why that is?  It's because he lived in San Francisco for several years before his time in Columbus.  In fact, I recall him calling it "his town" the same way Kathleen Kashay calls Pittsburgh "her town."  Ron's got a little pedigree, too.  His father is a former poli-sci/government professor at Penn State University who recently served as a local councilman in State College .  Did I mention Penn State previously?  I'm pretty sure I did: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Kevin_Walker.  Ron Sr.'s FB page says he's a Pittsburgh Pirates fan, but who knows whether that's real?  I can't trust my computer a bit.

I doubt there's anything to all that, though.  Ron's a real nice guy.

I've been trained, very much against my will, to find connections.  I am compelled to mention that I've found two possible connections to Penn State University, and that I am being kept hooked on pornography and have proven that systematic attempts have been made to bait me into clicking on child-pornography links in addition to numerous attempts to bait me with young children in person on the street.  I should also mention Jamie Auchincloss here.  I haven't been completely clear: the actual goal of those attacking me is turn me into a pedophile.

I seriously, seriously doubt there's anything to all of that.  Forget I even mentioned it.  I'm just a crazy paranoid-schizo. 

"When do you feel safe?"
Dear Diary:
Here's another pattern.  Back in Niles, Len Spector had a black Michigan-fan friend named Alex who asked me, "When do you feel safe?"  You remember--the same guy who suggested I read a book about some serial killer named Geen or something.  Recently, the movie, Event Horizon was shown on a standard cable movie channel.  Despite my experience, I thought I should re-watch it to see if anything noteworthy might be in there.  There was some dialogue in the middle about them knowing your fears and everything about you, but that wasn't what really caught my attention.  The final line of the movie was "We're safe."

Recently, I happened to come upon the March 2014 issue of Car and Driver magazine.  The ad on the inside back cover is for a Mazda 3 with the text, "Safe To The Extreme" and the image of a guy in a white suit on fire.  On the back cover, is an LG phone ad with the image of a baseball umpire making a safe call as a player slides into home plate.

I don't think there's anything to it.  Again, it's just me being a paranoid schizo. 

David at the Forum
Dear Diary:
Again, in the interest of mentioning anything slightly suspicious, I should mention my brush with The Landmark Forum, now called Landmark Worldwide.    

Fran and David Plank were greatly interested in Landmark while Carrie and I were dating.  They kept begging us to go.  We declined repeatedly, but he wouldn't relent so we finally gave in and went.  It was an introductory session.  First there was a big group and then they split us up into small groups.  In the small group sessions, they spoke directly of "rewiring your brain."  Carrie and I were still suspicious.  I did some research and found that Landmark is the evolution of EST, which was an offshoot of Scientology.

After that first session, I was signed up for another, but I got the VH1 job in the interim and had to cancel.  When I called to cancel, the guy on the phone was very aggressive.  I told him I couldn't make the next session but would reschedule later.  They kept calling me back at work two or three times a week.  They started using con-man double-talk.  When he said, "If you can't make it because of your job, then that job is exactly why you need to come to Landmark."  It was at that point that I told him to refund my credit card and not to call me back.  I forget how I enforced it, but he complied.

I doubt this has anything to do with anything, though.  I'm just some nutcase.

Memo to the Person Who Tried to Set Me Up for a Green-Screen Video on the Bus Last Night:
  1. Things are different now.  I know about Cacioppo and Lonesome the Dog.  I have photo comparisons that are quite clear.  I have all sorts of proof and I'm not in the dark at all, really.
  2. What could you possibly do that hasn't already been done?
  3. Paul McCartney is seriously wealthy.  Think about that real hard.
Several times, operatives have come into my vicinity and made comments about "having experience."  There's something in Mike Freeman's book about "experiential knowledge."  Memo to you: you aren't my buddies like you seem to think.  I did not ask for all this "experience" and I'll just keep right on doing what I'm doing until the problem is completely resolved, including and especially the Pittsburgh Airport part.

Larry Vaughn
Can someone sort this one our for me?  The buckshot in the head part is fairly typical of the threats I receive, but upon re-reading this, I see how confusing it is.

Sonoma Nappa & Beyond
Dear Diary:
There's a bar on Polk Street called The Pour House.  It was formerly known as S.N.O.B. for Sonoma Nappa & Beyond.  When I still had money, I would stop in for a drink there occasionally.  One night, the bartender and I ended up talking politics.  This was when they had me wrapped really tight in the mind control.  All that stands out from that conversation was that Ayn Rand came up and him saying he reads her work to "keep an eye on the enemy."

On another occasion, with the same bartender on duty, two women came in.  Like so many others, they acted as if they didn't know who I was, though I could tell they did.  The strawberry blonde was at least five years older than me.  The brunette was about my age or a little younger.  They were both tallish.  They came and stood next to me and the blonde started hitting on me rather aggressively.  Since I'd figured out what was going on, I made it a point to not go along with such attempts.  What's interesting about it is, the blonde's expression and tone throughout conveyed happy astonishment as if she was thinking, "Wow...I can't believe we got this guy."  The brunette, on the other hand, was skeptical and apprehensive.  Which of them do you think is smarter?  After they left, the bartender said, "Wow, man...nice job of avoiding that cougar attack."

The flag is relatively new. 

Have you ever heard it?  It is the one and only other sports team's signature tradition that sends a chill up me spine similar to the one produced by Ohio State's Le Regiment.  It is intimidating and it is impressive.

Joe Paterno's coaching website included a page called, "Run Off Tackle The Youngstown State Way."  I think there are only three jobs Jim Tressel would return to coaching for: The Cleveland Browns, Notre Dame, or Penn State.

The only near fight I ever got in at a football game in high school was when a few friends and I went with some JFK players to scout a team playing at Brookfield, PA.  A few Brookfield guys started giving us a hard time after the game on the way to the car, and, I assure you, they started it.  We tried to ignore them.  Words were exchanged.  We got in the car to leave, and one of them kicked a dent in the front right quarter panel of Rags' car.  I was sitting in the front.  Rags stopped.  We were outnumbered.  Danko said let's go and three doors opened and we were all stepping out when Rags called us off, probably concerned about his parents' car.

I doubt that the connections to Penn State and my situation which I've suggested will turn out to be true.  But, despite everything, I'd hate to see any bloodshed.  So, just in case we find out I'm right, I would advise any gays living in the state of Pennsylvania to have escape plans ready.

Correction: The Brookfield I refer to is actually in Ohio, but it's right on the state line.  They were probably playing a team from PA and we were scouting Brookfield for a possible playoff encounter.  The moral of the story remains the same.

Tri-C Medical Ultrasound
I seem to recall writing about my experience at Cuyahoga Community College, but I can't find it in either The Rundown or this diary.  I did post a link to Tri-C somewhere above.  My experience bears mentioning here.

While living in Columbus in '04 and '05, I had an idea for an Ohio State T-shirt.  That was when I met Bob Johnson who started semi-lecturing me out of the blue about how great it would be to let women take over.  The ideas kept coming, mostly for OSU/sports stuff, and I actually produced a few shirts, learned a little about this biz, and broke even on my last shirt.  I decided it might be worth pursuing long-term, but I needed to generate some cash flow and do it on the side to start.

The brainwashing I'd been subjected to destroyed my confidence in my Communications B.A., so I started looking around for a high-paying 2-year degree that I would have a jump on with my B.A.  I settled on medical ultrasound.  I found out Cuyahoga Community College in Parma, Ohio, a Cleveland suburb, had a respected program, wasn't too far from Niles, and was relatively affordable.  Dad needed some help around the house, things weren't going well in Columbus, and I had enough money to cover a first semester at Tri-C.  Most importantly, though, my college credits knocked out a substantial portion of the coursework required for the ultrasound program.  They have three specialties for someone going into ultrasound to choose from: OB/GYN, Cardio, and Abdominal.  I figured out that I could go for a double certification in Cardio and Abdominal and finish in less time than it would take a high school grad to get a single certification.  It worked for a number of reasons, so I moved back to Niles.  I figured I could bang out a bunch of credits in the first semester, find a night job and work my way through the next year and a half.  It was worth the risk: Ultrasound techs start at $18/hr.

I scheduled 13 credit hours and had enough money to do nothing but go to class and study, so I knew I could do well.  I got five A's and a B.  (My biology teacher put a question on every test that was not from the material to ensure everyone would miss at least one.  I figured one out and got it right.  It was about stomach peristalsis.)  It was in an Intro to Basic Hospital Methods (How to wash your hands) class that I met Marty Eggert and Kathy Haxton.  In the Ultrasound Intro class, there were about forty people.  I was one of only three guys in the class, and one of the other two was gay.  Actually, there may have been only two guys, me being the only straight guy.

We all met individually with the woman who taught the Intro class and we talked about what specialty we intended to pursue.  She held some sort of administrative post in the department.  I told her I was going for a double-certification in Abdominal and Cardio.  For lack of a more accurate way to put it, she being a seriously nasty bitch during that encounter and nearly shouted at me, "You're not taking OB/GYN."

I also recall the look on the face of the woman who heads up the department when she first saw me.  I thought nothing of it at the time.  Quite simply, she looked very concerned.  "Denise Kinches" sounds right.

Medical ultrasound techs can influence whether it is recommended to parents that their baby should be aborted. 

It was while I was taking class at Tri-C that I met Christine Faranda (who is definitely not a socialist).

Papa Joe('s)
I read recently that Joseph Stalin was referred to as "Papa Joe" by Soviet children.  Must be a coincidence.  An on-line article says the Columbus pizza pub of the same name took it from a Pat Boone song.  Yeah, sure--why not?

K2 and Ron?  No way...
I've mentioned that I have memories that I doubt, mainly because they're just too good to be true.  One of the intents of the brainwashing I've been subject to is to make your imagination run wild.  Surely, then, one in my situation would be prone to conjuring up who-knows-what out of wishful thinking.  Nevertheless, I have to mention, that it is quite possible that I brought up Ron Filippelli in a conversation with Kathleen Kashay once and she said that she knew him.  I was incredulous, floored by the amazing coincidence.

Seriously--I must be dreamin' this one.  I mention it here because I believe the only other prior relationship between individuals I've met independently is the Bob Higgins-Scooter Alpert thing which is no big deal because everyone in TV-news/production in New York knows each other.  I was always meeting people who knew someone I worked with.  The K2-Ron thing sticks out a bit.

Speaking of Asians...
During my time in SF, The Patriot Act came up for renewal and was suspended for a week, maybe.  During that time, which was when things were worst for me, my life got much better; I stopped seeing many of the people "investigating" me, etc.  Then, when the Act was reinstated, I was out on the street and some athletic-looking tall guy--who happened to be Asian--came around a corner and gave me a maniacal, intimidating smile as if to say, "Heh, heh, heh, I'm back."

"Why don't you go to Japan and possess someone there?"
When people I suspect come into my vicinity, it's often ambiguous.  I also wonder what purpose it serves for them, other than making me wonder.  The other day a guy showed up at the bus stop and I suspected him, but blew off getting the video because I wasn't sure.  We ended up sitting back to back on the bus.  He was on the phone.  During his conversation, I heard him say, "Why don't you go to Japan and possess someone there?"  That was on the uptown 49 on Monday, August 11, between 1:30 and 2:00 pm.  I got a shot of his back.  He's big and tall.

Raymond J. Dowd
What these people do is use seemingly random feedback in response to something I'm doing or just did to condition or train me.  Sometimes the input is positive, but, most often, it's negative.  I know when I'm close to something that is significant in my situation because I receive input that is exceptionally negative and stands out, such as the scary baby face that just happened to pop up next to a Youtube video about the Trumbull County Mental Health Board, shown here--and excellent example.

When I figured out that my situation is somehow related to Doris Duke, I called Raymond J. Dowd, the attorney who had Bernard Lafferty removed as the executor of Duke's will and got her dog his inheritance.  I left him a message, or so I thought.  Less than twenty minutes later, I got a call back, which is very strange because no one ever replies to me.  It is the one and only instance in which I received an immediate reply.  The person on the line claimed to be Dowd and was extremely rude, nearly shouting at me, asking me why I called him and insisting that he couldn't help me before hanging up.


During my first month in San Francisco, one of the first people I met who was tracking me and approaching me, if not the first, was some guy who went to Duke and, again, was quite rude.

"We're Very Social."
I've mentioned that I've had a number of encounters in which I was drugged and/or brought to a point of inhibriation and coerced into agreeing to something and/or maybe had a tracking device or two inserted into my body.  Believe it or not, there is one last such vague memory I've thus far neglected to cover.

My best guess is that this happend in New York.  Two or three guys approached me in a bar.  I don't think they drugged me, but it's a safe bet that they bought me a few beers.  They asked me about being ambitious and whether or not I believe in "survival of the fittest."  Two memories from that encounter are quite clear.  The first is them saying, "We're very social."  They said something about making it so that I would be destitute and living on the street.  I said, "How are you going to do that?"  Their response is the second very clear memory: "My friends and I will talk you into it."  They said I wouldn't even know it's happening.  If I'm not mistaken, the conversation ended with me saying, "Tell ya what...I'll figure out what you're doing and make you pay for it."


One Last Memo...
To the operatives who've come into my vicinity and said things like "We're good." or "I'm good.", etc.:

I do not give a shit what you think, regardless of what your name is or who you represent.  It is not my goal to appease anyone.  I'm not seeking help or assistance.  I am promoting my blog and my name to counter the attempt to bury me.  I have used the blog to record all the most significant events.  Your opinion does not matter, so, please, save your breath.  I thought, maybe, I heard one of your drones recently say something about my "beating a wrap."  I've never even been arrested.  I promise you: my beating a wrap has positively nothing to do with the situation and I'm pretty sure that this punishment without a trial thing is one of the main reasons I even exist.  Stop wasting your time with the "We're good" comments.  You and they do not matter.

"Oh, come on, you know she's a bitch."
Led Zeppelin's fourth album is like a gift to the world.  They were big about the album being a work of art as a unit.  Their goal was not to sell singles.  They never had a number-one hit.  Physical Graffiti has as many great songs and has, probably, their best single work in Kashmir, but as a unit, pound for pound, the fourth album can't be beat.  I love the way it ends.  That final little far-away-sounding riff at the end of When The Levee Breaks is Jimmy Page tying a neat little bow on a handsomely wrapped, priceless gift he and his friends put so much work into.

This brings me to a incident I've mentioned briefly once or twice, but not, I believe, since I found out about John T. Cacioppo and Lonesome The Dog, which, as they have with so many other instances in my life, shed a whole new light on.

Quick Review:
I've been the subject of covert psychological and emotional manipulation mainly facilitated by induced feelings of loneliness since I was five years old.  John T. Cacioppo writes that feeling lonely and/or being isolated makes one impulsive, vulnerable to suggestion and persuasion, and eager to please others in addition to impairing the executive function of their brain.

I've written that I've had a number of experiences in which covert operatives intentionally brought me to a point of inebriation to get me to agree to one thing or another, perhaps to sign some sort of contract, or so they could stick me with a hypodermic needle and hypnotize me or do who knows what.  During at least some of those encounters, they used yes-set questioning.  
This will be the first time I've written about this in detail:

On one of those occasions, two or three guys got me drunk in a Manhattan bar and turned the subject to my relationship with my then girlfriend, Carrie Plank.  They started asking me if she was bitch or not.  They didn't just suggest it, though.  They goaded me.  I specifically recall him saying, "Oh, come on, you know she's a bitch.",  which tells me that I must have been disagreeing.  (Silly me.)  

Anyway, they got me so drunk that night and it was so long ago that it's not possible for me to make this claim with 100% assurance, but it's a very safe bet that it was on Carrie and I's next visit to Speonk when the following scenario took place.  It's probably the best example of instances in my life that are like the script out of a bad daytime soap opera:

I walked in the door and Carrie's father, Reverend David Plank was sitting down, which was slightly unusual; I recall him standing upon our arrival prior to that.  He looked slightly pissed off.  Without making any sort of greeting, he looked up at me and said, "So-o-o-o-o typical."  I don't know whether it was immediately after that or a little later when he said, "So, how are things with you and Carrie, John?  Okay--or is she a bi-i-i-tch?"  It was in that conversation that he mentioned having friends in the CIA and asked whether I would like to work for them.  I declined and he replied, "Oh, but you'd be perfect for it.  They'd love you."

Of course, Carrie and I's meeting was not a coincidence, something she covered up, and if she, with her theater degree from NYU (the same school as JFK Jr.), intentionally was being a bitch, that certainly would move things along, now, wouldn't it?

Silly, silly me.

Manufacturing Excuses
The above scenario is a great example of how they kind of lie to themselves and take things they manufacture as being real.  Those guys could have just outright lied and told David I said bad things about Carrie from the get-go, but, apparently to ease their consciouses, they had to goad me after getting me drunk on top of a life-long loneliness set-up.   It's as if they go by a rule that if they can just get an agreement to the things they "suggest," regardless of the circumstances, they can use it as justification for some sort of retribution.  I have one other excellent example of that, which is when Joey said to me on the phone around 2004, "You know, all cops and people in the military are rednecks."  I couldn't figure out why he would say that, so I just said something like, "Uh, yeah--whatever, Joe."  I guess it must be significant, then, that Joey, with his handy asthma inhaler, positively is working with the CIA.

Catholic v. Episcopal?
The primary motivation for all involved is, of course, the money, but some have complimentary motivations.  It's a safe guess that part of the Planks' motivation is to take a Catholic fortune and make it an Episcopal one.  Oh, but then again, maybe I'm just being paranoid.

Did someone say, "Monte Carlo?" 

Loose Ends
I started a section on this recently, but now I can't seem to locate it.  Again, I'll add to this as they come to me.
  • I'd say this is the biggest unknown at this point: How many individuals had a Lonesome the Dog stuffed animal when they were a kids?
  • Are we looking at the biggest civil case in U.S. history?  
  • How much is Genentech worth?
  • Did Richard Petty intentionally take that name as a super-secret snide swipe at a great American competitor?
  • How long has Gene Locastro been in on it?
  • What was Mike and Jen from Williamsburg's last name?  I keep thinking it's Sullivan, but I'm just not sure.  (He used to call me, "kiddo.")
  • Did Carrie Plank really go to prom with a black date?  This is important.
  • Why would a woman who openly accused me of being a serial rapist turn around and send me a $200 gift card?  Is it significant that, in the interim, I posted about Doggett and Cacioppo? 
  • Are the anti-porn people going take a big enough hit?  Are they getting lost in the shuffle?
  • What does Fort Wayne, Indiana have to do with it? 
  • The number of people who had Lonesome the Dog is important, obviously, but I think I'm more curious about the number of Cyberball participants in my position.
  • What was up with that burning letter M on Norah Salah's FB page?  Why did she remove it?
  • NASA?
  • Was the Incident Behind Papa Joe's a set-up by Sean Newman?  It's possible. 
  • I can't help but wonder whether the people trying to get to me since I was a young boy got to Joey with the intention of him becoming a negative influence.  He was a very angry young man, which is mostly attributable to height issues, but ya never know.  I don't doubt it one bit. 
  • How much of  a role does Janet Lee play in all this?  She was instrumental, obviously, in smearing BlackJack into the ground. 
  • I'm exceedingly curious about the guy who followed me into the C.H.P Station and was silently signaling Lieutenant Vang behind my back--one Asian to another.
Thank You
I should mention that over about the past year or maybe even two years, a number of individuals have manufactured encounters with me for the purpose of saying "Thank you."  The most recent I recall was when a car stopped right in front of me while I was holding my sign on Lombard Street.  A man and a woman got out and the woman dropped her scarf.  I alerted her to it.  When she came back to grab it, she looked me in the eye and thanked me with a heartfelt effusiveness that was, as in all the other such encounters, markedly incongruous to the gravity of the act.  It was as if I'd just carried her baby out of a burning house.  Actually, it may have been the guy who thanked me.  It's all a blur--except for that lesbian security guard feeling around under Nancy Zoccali's breasts at the Pittsburgh Airport.


Ron Filippelli

Richard Leacock

Eleanor Leacock
"I grew up, then, to be scornful of materialist consumerism; to value—even revere—nature; to hate deeply the injustices of exploitation and racial discrimination…and to be committed to the importance of doing what one could to bring about a socialist transformation of society." (Leacock, 1993, 5) These early experiences clearly influenced how she approached the field of anthropology and the Marxist and feminist tendencies that became the hallmark of her work.

USA Network

Family Guy
     "You don't get in black and white unless you got black and white in you."
Andrew Kevin Walker

"A lonely kid by the name of Michael Brower loves horror movies and is best friends with a kid named Kyle, who is also a fan of horror. Michael is told about a game called Brainscan from Kyle, where the game feels very real and has you brutally kill people"

"According to Almar Haflidason, writing for the BBC, throughout Seven 'in the place of the obvious is subtlety.… Rather than lingering gore shots, we get a diffused layering of the visual and verbal, to nauseating effect' and the 'pace is fast … the shocks build beautifully.'" 

An American Haunting: Possession Knows No Bounds

Scott Nimefro

Alex Collett, K and A Films
"The Visual Revolution Has Begun"

David Schow

David S. Goyer

Stalkers Comics
"It concerns a series of people, some mentally unstable, kidnapped to become disposable assassins. A co-story concerns a nihilistic detective and a psychic."

Ramon Mendez
San Francisco State University Grad

The Hunger

Perversions of Science

Walter F. Parkes, Co-Producer of The Ring

Michael Shamberg
"Radical Software"

"John Noble"

Paula Wagner
Youngstown Native
Went to college in Pittsburgh

Tom Rosenberg

David Scott Rubin

Mark Neveldine & Brian Taylor

John Brancato & Michael Ferris

Paula Gosling

Enemies List Home Recordings includes a group called Have A Nice Life and another called Frustrator.

Did I say someone is trying to keep me frustrated?  There's also something about "No Fun.  Not ever."  Did I say these folks are trying to keep me miserable?  I think I did.  Annnd, from the makers of Enemies List... 

Two Friendly Nerds
Also from the same folks... 

The Legrand Society
Hey, look!  It's a gloomy forest...

Jennifer Falls
See above.


Is it notable that Devo's first hit was a cover of The Rolling Stones' "I Can't Get No Satisfaction?"  K2 is a big Stones fan and someone fucking with me through the internet is also a big Stones fan.  I've stated that it has been quite clear that a major part of my torment is denying me all pleasure and satisfaction...while teasing me at the same time.

Mark Mothersbaugh, Devo co-founder, wrote the music for the same episode of Perversions of Science written by Andrew Kevin Walker (see above).  I'll post some lyrics that are relevant to my situation.

International Release Cover Art
Through Bein' Cool
If you live in a big place
Many factions underground
Chase down mister hinky dink
So no trace can be found
Never leaves a gap unfilled
Always pays on time, always fits the bill
He comes well prepared...
Never trips over, stands up on his own
He is a blockhead, thinking man full grown
He comes well prepared
S.I.B. (Swelling Itching Brain)
Got a nervous kind of feeling
Got a painful yellow headache
Every picture in every magazine's turned real
Every face looks out and screams at me too real...

Gotta swelling itching pain
Seems like endless torture
Uncontrollable Urge... (Loneliness makes you impulsive.)
Got an urge got a surge
And it's out of control
Got an urge I wanna purge
'Cause I'm losing control
Uncontrollable urge
I wanna tell you all about it
Got an uncontrollable urge
It makes me scream and shout it
Here are a few Black Angels song titles:
First album, Passover:
Young Men Dead
Better Off Alone
Bloodhounds on my Trail

Second album, Directions to See a Ghost
You On The Run
No Satisfaction

Third album, Phosphene Dream
Haunting at 1300 McKinley

Fourth album, Indigo Meadow
Don't Play With Guns
You're Mine
Black Isn't Black
The Scion, Brian Copeland

Visual Disobedience Since '89

Fingerpointing Amendment
In the above entry about fingerpointing, I wrote that the person in one of those images looked like a cop.  I guess he does, but not nearly as much as this guy:

Head Dumb Fuck?
"In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence."  -- Thomas Jefferson


More About Me
I was adopted as an infant.  Throughout my adult life, women who are either political insiders or corporate or federal intelligence operatives have been surreptitiously entering my life with the goal of marriage.  The father of one of those women, who I date from '98 through '02, is an Episcopal minister from Long Island.  He fingered me to the CIA who has been secretly undermining my life ever since, but possibly for longer than that.  I've been the subject of numerous death threats and been framed for a number of heinous crimes.  Numerous attempts have been made to entrap me for certain very serious crimes.  I've been the subject of extensive and varied character defamation.  I've been stalked and harassed by authorities and non-authorities alike.  I have never been arrested in my life, but it has been suggested that I've been declared guilty and am being punished without a trial.  I've been the subject of psychological and emotional torment, both on line and conducted in person by covert operatives, intended to drive me to suicide.  I have no privacy whatsoever and my movements are constantly being tracked by GPS.  Many of  my phone calls and e-mails get intercepted.  It's been said to me that my "whole life is an experiment."  Much of what I describe has dissipated, but, as intended, I've been left in a destitute state with no close friends or confidants. 

I have also been drugged and/or intentionally brought to a point of inebriation and coerced into signing documents or making agreements I likely would not have agreed to in a sober, fully conscious state.  On some or all of those occasions, I was hypnotized, during one of which, one of those involved said, "You won't remember this conversation." 

JFK Jr. in Gun-sight
The reason for those women sneaking into my life and Reverend Plank's fingering me to the CIA and much of everything else I've described is that, apparently, I am the beneficiary of a very large trust by way of my birth-mother, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.  

I also have a vague recollection of someone once saying to me, "You're perfect bait for all of 'em." 

August, 1969 (I was born in April of 1970.)
True?  Your guess is as good as mine.  ("Maybe not so much.")



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