What Really Matters To The Ruling Fascists/ Or Why Nazi America is Floundering

We were both upset, but I felt a little better knowing that for at least a moment, Anita was willing to stand by my side in the difficult situation we were in.

By mid March the anger over what had happened had become extreme, and I could not longer take talking to Dr. Cohen and having him tell me how sick I was. Now he spent his time talking about hobbies and unimportant topics while I was interested in talking about how I could deal with my anger and resultant depression. But, since according to Dr. Cohen's version of things there was no rational reason for my anger, there was nothing to talk about. Since my sessions with Dr. Cohen were just costing me money and getting me no where, I decided to stop seeing him.

I also decided to stop taking the Stelazine because of all of the "side effects" it was producing without helping with the anger. One side effect was extreme nervousness which made it almost impossible for me to function at work. I could barely sit still for a minute and that made it extremely difficult to write memos and reports. I felt that the Stelazine was causing more harm than good and I discontinued using it. What I really needed and wanted was someone I could talk to who would help me deal with what was happening to me. Of course, I knew my tormentors would never allow that because that would be an admission that I was not mentally ill. So for a while, I decided to go it alone.

Most Americans are unaware that they only ever hear one version of events and stories in the news. In mind control, it is imperative that only one version of events be allowed. No other possibility is allowed to exit. In my case, the only thought that I was allowed to hear was that I was mentally ill. Nothing else was allowed. And my insane, stupid captors believed that by totally controlling my environment and by allowing me to hear only one version of things, they could actually convice me that I was insane!!!! There is no way I can express the frustration this created and the contempt I had and still have to this day for my Nazi captors.

Another interesting thing is that at work, I had mananged to solve a major problem that RAM was having with a material used in manufacturing. When I first arrived, I was given about a three foot high pile of reports on research which had been done to solve this problem. Despite all of this effort, the problem had persisted. I was told at one point that if the problem could not be solved soon, RAM would have to shut down the production line at a cost of $100,000 A DAY. Despite all my other problems I was able to solve the problem and keep the production line running. My work was even praised by a Nobel prize winning scientist who had been brought in as a consultant on the problem. Subsequently, my peers told me that I should have been given a award for the work I had done. Still, to my Nazi captors the only thing they were interested in was destroying me and my life. Nothing else mattered to the ruling fascist driven by their insane, obsessive hatred.

FASCIST AMERICA

On January 29, 1979 I returned to work with great apprehension. My whole approach to the situation was to maintain the position that I had been mentally ill and that my only goal was to get back to work and a normal life. I would not make any mention of someone trying to destroy my life, nor would I make any reference to all the events that had transpired over the previous months at RAM. My managers had informed me that my coworkers had been told I had been out for "personal reasons" and that no further discussion about the situation was necessary. Since I automatically assumed that everyone had a good idea where I had been, it made no difference to me what the official explanation was. I was just happy to be out of Daniels House.

The weeks after my release from Daniels House seemed fairly normal, and I was beginning to think that signing my deposition had solved the problems. When I saw the company doctor, I denied having any suspicions that people were plotting against me, and I maintained a healthy attitude. Everyone seemed pleased. I continued to see Dr. Cohen and NOW even he would talk about things that were occurring in my daily life. Still, despite all of the improvement, there were things happening at work that seemed to be orchestrated and intended to make things which had occurred in the past seem normal. It was what Cruz Little had termed "instant replay".

As I continued to get more confident, the anger grew. While I was able to maintain the front at work that I believed I had been mentally ill, at home I would have fits of rage and anger over what had been done to me. I would yell at Anita, "How could they be so stupid and insane? They are sick. They really believe they can convince me I'm mentally ill. It is so stupid."

"Don't you think they will go to hell for this?" Anita hopefully asked.

"I don't believe in hell. It's just a concept to comfort people who find themselves in a position like I'm in. Besides, if "they" believed in hell, they wouldn't do what they are doing." I snapped back.

Anita was being sympathetic and she was probably feeling a lot of guilt for her role in my torment.

I continued, "I mean they tried to kill me under the guise of an accident or suicide. Then they stick me in a hospital and said I was mentally ill. And they have me sign my deposition of testamony that they had programmed."

"They" are totally above the law; they change documents, they sign my name to things without my knowledge and they try to kill me and everyone just stands around and watches." I turned to Anita. "How could you do what you did?! You know you helped them try to kill me, don't you?"

Anita just looked at me and then walked over to the sofa and sat down with her hands between her knees and her head hung low. "What do you want me to do?" Do you want me to go to the FBI and tell them what happened?"

"That won't do any good." I replied. "I signed the deposition, and there is no proof that any of this has occurred. They'd still destroy us economically. We're better off just letting things be."

Note: REMEMBER, WE WERE MEMBERS OF THE WORKING SLAVE CLASS AND IN FASCIST AMERICA, THAT MEANS YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS. YOU ARE A SLAVE TO BE USED BY THE RULING FASCISTS AS THEY DESIRE.

I won't get into any discussions on religion other than to say American Christianity has evolved into a "you can have your cake and eat it to" religion. In other words, these neo-Nazis can go out an commit autrocious acts against humanity and then go to church and be forgiven. It just seems to me that there is something is wrong with that kind of religion. Remember, about 50% of "Christians" supported and voted for Hitler.

Psychiatric Terrorism

I mentioned that Anita and I both believed that by signing the deposition, my captors would be appeased. However, deep down I knew that my captors were driven by an insane obsessive hatred that could not be satisfied. It is the same insane obsessive hatred that caused Hitler to want to exterminate the Jews. And by blaming me for the failure of their stupid plans to rig a trial, my captors could rationalize their insanity because my Nazi captors had a perfect scapegoat - a defenseless slave. Remember that Hitler rationalized that the Jews were the source of all of Germany's problems. And just as Hitler tried to destroy the Jews, I knew my Nazi captors would not be happy until they had destroyed me.

Another unusual thing about my time at Daniels House was that none of the doctors or staff ever even bothered to ask me what had happened to me; they automatically treated me as though I was paranoid. A one point one of the resident psychiatrists, Dr. Luther said, "You know, you are much to trusting to be paranoid." I wanted to ask him why he thought I was like that, but any attempt to have a rational conversation about my situation was futile. I sat there quietly and kept my mouth shut.

One nurse did ask me why I slept so much. I told her that I was so heavily drugged, that I couldn't stay awake. She said she would check on my "medications". The next day I was informed that my "medications" would be reduced. The reduction in the dosages came after I had signed my deposition.

The day of my release hearing was approaching and I decided my best chance for release and a peaceful life was to go in and say how sick I had been, and that now I recognized how badly I needed help and to acknowledge all the fine help I had received at Daniels House. Several years later I saw the movie "Francis" and my role at the release hearing and the doctor's responses were almost identical to the release hearing portrayed in that movie. In the movie, Jessica Lange who portrays Francis Farmer, rehearses a humble, contrite speech where she confesses that she had been sick and thanks the doctors for their help in order to gain her release. Sitting there at the release hearing and admitting I had been mentally ill when there was rational evidence that I had been terrorized was very difficult to do, but I wanted to be released so desperately that I would have said anything. The whole process is nothing more that forcing a prisoner to be obsequious to those in power. Finally, on January 22nd, some thirty four days after I had been "voluntarily" admitted to the institution, I was released.

It is interesting to note, that the release hearing was recorded and the whole charade amounted to little more than the people in power covering their asses against any future lawsuit. After all, the victim, I mean patient did confess to his illness. As I said in an earlier post, most psychiatists should be tried for crimes against humanity and then executed.

How US Nazi Government Obtains Court Testamony.

A week later, I was transferred to another building where I had a little more freedom. That's when my old problems resurfaced. On evening Anita showed up with an official copy of my Gamma Supplies deposition which had been mailed to my home. The deposition was accompanied by a letter which instructed me to edit and sign the deposition, have the signature notarized and then returned within fifteen days of the date of the letter. It did not take long to figure out that I had to sign the deposition at least a week before my scheduled release from Daniels House. Ther was no doube in my mind the sudden appearance of my deposition, which I swore I would never sign, was more than a coincidence. It had been almost two years since I gave the deposition and now it shows up for me to sign while I'm heavily drugged and locked up. Who could possibly have the power to influence the handling of court documents?!!

My first impulse was not to sign it, but I had been tortured so badly that I couldn't stand the thought of being abused anymore. In addition, I was under the influence of powerful drugs(major tranquilizers) which inhibited any desire to fight. I decided to sign the deposition and hoped that "they" would be appeased.
Anita also believed that "they" might be appeased if I signed the deposition and she urged me to do so.

At my next regular meeting with Dr. Cohen, I told him about the sudden unexpected appearance of the deposition. H asked what I had done with it, and I told him I had signed it without even looking at it. Dr. Cohen became visibly annoyed and demanded that I should edit it like the instructions said and then return it. At that point I would have done whatever anyone told me to do. I said I would follow his advice.

I now know understand why some fifty years after WWII, people still hunt down former German Nazi followers and bring them to trial. If the US government ever crumbles and the current ruling fascists are removed from power, I would be first in line to hunt down people like Dr. Cohen. They should be forced to face their crimes against humanity.

More on my deposition in my next post.

The Results of Nazi Terrorism.

My captors are experts in the field of mental torture and psychological warfare. That is what they do. They knew that with prolonged mental torture I would either try to kill myself or try to kill someone else. They didn't care. Either way, if I or someone else died, "they" would be rid of me and then "they" could use legally use my unsigned sworn testamony in a court of law. The object was to make it all LOOK legal.

Studies conducted at UCLA confirmed that mental torture is just as painful to the victim as is physical torture. Except that with physical torture, if the pain becomes too great, the victim losses consciousness. With mental torture, the victime expresses rage and frequently commits acts of violence either against himself(suicide) or against others(murder). In the latter case, the Nazi government can then use the murder(s)as a reason to imprison the torture victim. Just another criminal locked away and no mention is ever made of mental torture or of the existence of a Political Prisoner. This is how the system works and the Nazi american government can do this because of its great wealth. I costs millions of dollars to trap, socially confine and torture a victim for several years. But you the tax payer pays for it and the torturers get to have fun. Even the Cuban government was somewhat surprised that a government would go to such an expense just to hide their hideous acts. I'll tell you about that later.

One of the first examples of "going postal" happened an Oklahoma Post Office. I'm not sure what happened to the shooter in that case, but subsequent investigations by the postal workers union uncovered management memos directing acts of hararssment against the man that finally snapped. Frequently the victim shoots coworker(other slaves)in an act of rage, but the Nazi gestapo agents make sure that no one from the ruling fascist class is ever harmed. They take great care to protect the ruling elite.

Back to my story about how the Nazi government gets testamony from "hostile" witnesses.

The Thorazine dosage was so strong that an hour after I took it all I wanted to do was sleep. I fact, the first week I spent in the hospital my biggest problem was just trying to stay awake. All I could think about was that I didn't belong in the hospital and that if my external environment were normal, there would not be anything wrong with me. But all of that was irrelevant because all of the staff and doctors treated me as a patient with serious mental problems. I was amazed at how irrelevant the outside world became once you were confined in a mental institution, and I could readily see how a person could be kept confined indefinitely with little recourse.

I finally got an appointment to see the doctor and was informed that I had signed "voluntary" committment papers. I asked to see the papers that I had been to drunk to read when I signed them, but my request was denied!!! Then I was informed that I was to be "treated" for five to six weeks and then I would be released. The fact that I couldn't even see the papers I had signed told me that my confinement was not voluntary. I wonder what my "treatment" would be and why was the six week time period imposed. The five to six weeks meant the earliest I would get out would be late January.

I was also informed that Dr. Cohen would by my analyst while I was confined and that none of the hospital staff doctors would treat me! I found that very peculiar, and it also increased my financial burden since Dr. Cohen charged me twice his usual rate to visit me at Daniel's House. What was peculiar too, was that I was not invited to participate in any of the group therapy sessions where people discussed their problems in front of other patients. The other patients found this very strange too since everyone else I talked to had group therapy. What it amounted to was that I was kept drugged and confined and my treatment besides the drugs would be talking with Dr. Cohen who I felt helped put there in the first place. This scenario served the purpose of keeping the events in my life confined to a closed group. Ahhh, isn't Nazi america wonderful!

Another attempt to kill me without making it look like murder.

Events at work had become bad that on December 19th,I decidedI could no longer go into work. I just could not take any more harassment. That morning I called into work and told the secretary that was sick. On the first call in, the connection was so poor that I had to hang up and redial. The second call was not much better because of static and scratching noises, but I was able to get the message across. When I hung up I couldn't help but wonder if "they" had been responsible for the poor phone connection. I remained in bed the entire morning while Anita went off to work. Finally I got up around noon. All I could think about was all of the harassment and terrorism I had been subjected to since I had joined RAM and that there was really no way for me to make things different. "They" were determined to destroy me and there was nothing I could do about it. I was a slave in Nazi america.

As I sat there I kept thinking I had to do something to stop the mental anguish. I decided to have a drink of scotch. I gulped down one drink and then quickly poured another. Within about twenty minutes I had consumed three quarters of a liter of scotch and was feeling no pain. I staggered into the kitchen to get Nuisance some dog bones when I collapsed on the kitchen floor. The next thing I remember some five hours later, I was being rushed to a hospital in an ambulance. Anita had come home and found me on the floor and when she could not get any response, she called 911. Once at the hospital, I was given fluids intravenously until I fully regained consciousness.

Anita had called Dr. Cohenand he suggested that I be taken to Daniel's House, a psychiatric hospital for admittance. I was driven there and asked to sign some papers which I readily signed without reading them. I still was not aware of what was going on around me and I just did what I was told. I spoke briefly with a resident doctor, but that conversation was quickly terminated when I got sick and threw-up in the office waste basket.

The next morning I found myself in a maximum security buildig for suicidal patients. Immediately that morning a nurse informed that I was not allowed any personal possessions and that I was to take medications which had been prescribed for me. The medication consisted of the same level of Stelazine I had been taking plus the strong tranquilizer Thorazine.
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Michael Parenti in his book "Democracy For The Few" refers to Thorazine and Stelazine a "chemical straitjackets".

Elipse or Circle - Only the Nazis Knew for Sure.

At work, Don continued to talk to me about the business trip to Philadelphia, and no mention was made of the Christmas party. The only topic of conversation was the best way to make the trip. Don had decided to fly because he abhored the drive to Philadelphia, and there were plenty of convenient flights available. He said he would have the secretary make the flight arrangements.

By now I dreaded my weekly visit to Dr. Cohen. He finally stopped taking notes on my Gamma Supplies experience and now he started talking about hobbies. He never discussed a single issue about Gamma Supplies that I had raised, and he refused to discuss any of the events which occurred at RAM. Whenever I expressed suspicion about anything, he would assure me that he would never take part in any conspiracy against me and the he would remind me of his fine reputation as a pshychologist. It seemed usless to point out to him that "they" had already corrupted a Federal Judge and an attorney who had a fine reputation. I was becoming more and more irritated at the fact that I was spending my money to see him, but the situation at work dictated that I had to go through the motions of seeking help.

One thing Dr. Cohen always continued to ask me was the question of what generated fear and anxiety in me. Finally I became irritated at his insistence and told him that any change caused me concern.* Dr. Cohen suddenly became interested and tried to pinpoint exactly what kind of change I meant. I explained to him that any kind of change in my environment caused me concern. He did not bother to pursue the reason change caused me so much anxiety. He was only interested in what caused the emotional response and he offered no advice or suggestions to help me deal with changes in my environment.
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*If Dr. Cohen had really been interested in torture, he might have read Jerimiah Denton's book, "When Hell Was In Session". The book is Mr. Denton's account of his ordeal as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam in which he points out how sensitive he became to changes in his environment because it was a signal that something, usually bad, was about to happen. I had become the same way and any change in a persons actions or behavior caused me to become alert and anxious.
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The next morning I went into work and was surprised when Don showed up at my office bright and early. Don almost never got into work before nine o'clock (I think he need time to sober up from the previous nights drunk), but this particular morning, he was there when I arrived before eight thirty. The first thing he said was, "I've changed my mind, we are going to drive to Philadelphia. I decided that was the best thing to so we'll be driving down on Thursday. My anxiety level jumped. Twelve hours after I told Dr. Cohen that sudden changes caused me anxiety, Don shows up at work early to come in and tell me he had changed his mind and that he was going to do something that he had told me two days earlier he hated to do. And Don had no explanation for the sudden change in plans. The timing and nature of the events seemed too planned to be coincidental, but who would believe that something that I had told my therapist would effect actions at work.

The Nazi state view of religious holidays. Eliminate people.

By now I had been totally ostracized from any real interaction with society. My analyst refused to help and was even contributing to my fear and anxiety. He continually asked me what my fears were , and I continually avoided telling him because I was afraid those fears would be acted out. I had no interactions with anyone at work except for the barest of minimal conversations necessary to do my job. No one ever discussed the weather or what I did over the weekend and company politics was especially an avoided subject. And finally, I no longer even trusted my wife because comments I would make to her would come back to me at work. I could trust no one and I could not express my feelings to anyone out of fear of having those feelings manipulated. I was utterly alone in the world.

I was becoming more and more anxious as the Christmas holiday approached because I was aware of how the business world liked to make things happen during that period of time. I "they" were going to get rid of me, the approaching holiday period would be the ideal time to do it.

Like most work places, my department was having a Christmas party. I was never formally invited, but I couldn't help but hear other people talking about it. Eventually I learned that it was going to be held on December twenty first. When I found out about the party, my very first thought was to wonder how "they" were going to keep me from attending and socializing with other people. I had been so isolated that I couldn't believe I would be allowed to attend, but I was going to go even if I hadn't received an invitation.

My determination was quickly thwarted one day when Don came in my office and told me that we were going on a business trip to a chemical company in Philadelphia. My first reaction was one of surprise that I was going with other people on a business trip, but the true purpose of the trip became clear when he told me the trip was a one day affair and that we would be going on December twenty first! Now I knew how "they" were going to stop me from attending the Christmas party and at the same time create a ligitimate reason. I was disappointed to say the least and the news caused me to become more depressed. I was really looking forward to the party and the opportunity to interact with the rest of the people in the department.

That evening I told Anita what had transpired.

"That is really cruel." She replied.l

"I know but what can I do. It is the same thing they did with the house closing. They shcedule a business/work conflict."

"We are having a party at the bank. Do you want to go to that one with me?" Anita asked. "I know it won't be the same, but it might help."

"No, I don't think I want to meet your friends in my messed up state." I replied.

Anita sympathized with me but she was in the same position that I was in. She knew very well what was going on, but she couldn't do anything about it either. She too was a Nazi american slave(a working class person).

How the Nazi american government terrorizes citizens.

The harassment on the job was quite high. I was still receiving the four to six harassing phone to always resulted in no one on the other end of the line. In addition I was now receiving harassing phone calls at home even though I had an unlisted phone number and I had not given the phone number to anyone. This sometimes included calls in the middle of the night. My conflict with Osama was increasing to the point where he would take a message for me on my office phone and then not relay them to me. I became aware of the practice after I had missed an important meeting because he did not tell me I had received a call inviting me to the meeting.

I was also constantly being harassed by other people in the department. One favorite technique was to tell me that so and so wanted to see me immediately in room xx or that there was a meeting in conference room A. I would go rushing off only to find an empty room. By now I had become so accustomed to such practices and so conditioned to accept such actions that I did not bother to question the persons involved when I found out I had been lied to. Lying to me about anything had become so common place that it was the norm. What it was doing was making me paranoid. I eventually came to the conclusion that if you want to make someone crazy, make their world crazy; make it a world that made no sense. The Nazi american government can do that.

I continued to see Dr. Cohen, and he refuse to discuss anything that was happening to me. At one point I was discussing events that were happening and I asked him what he thought Anita's mother meant when she had told Anita that "she would have to learn to live without him." Dr. Cohen just ignored the question and when I repeated he just went off on another topic. It was clear that he did not want to lend any credence to my interpretations of events and that it was better to let me live with the fears that the comment created. I was paying this son-of-a-bitch to basically help the Nazis drive me crazy. When he refused to even acknowledge my question, I began to get up and walk out, but I decided I had to stay and maintain the image that I was trying to get help for my problem.

Making the Nazi alibi of mental illness real!

On Thanksgiving, Ursula and I headed for my parents' place where we had our usual feast. We had invited Ursula's mother to join us since Hugho was confined in the hospital and she was alone. The problems I was having were taking their toll and I was unable to enjoy myself. I was despondent and full of anxiety, and I ate very little of the Thanksgiving meal. I truly had nothing to be thankful for living in Nazi america. It was like a Jew trying to celebrate living in Nazi Germany. The inability to enjoy the holiday with my wife and family made me feel even worse.

That afternoon when Ursula's mother was about to leave, I become determined to give her a hug. As she headed toward the door, I stepped into the doorway. She stopped, looked for another exit and then stood there frozen. I walked over, gave her a hug and wished her a safe trip home.

That Monday, I returned to work in an extreme state of anxiety. I had not been sleeping well, and I was not able to concentrate on my work. Finally, I asked John Waymore if I could sse the company psychiatrist. The next day I went to see Dr. Hupalowsky. Dr. Hupalowsky appeared very nervous and he chained smoked the whole time I talke to him. I don't know if I made him nervous or if he normally was that way, but his behavior made me feel uneasy. After a short conversation, Dr. Hupalowskty gave me some Stelazine, a tranquilizer and antipsychotic agent to take to help me get some sleep. I was furious at the fact that I was being harassed to the point that I had to take medication just to function in a reasonably normal manner. I dislike taking any form of medication, and I particularly dislike taking a medication like Stelazine which can have serious side effects. But, I had to take the medication in order to function.

I was not worried about my job performance because John Waymore had assured me in our "deal" that I would always have a job at RAM even if I had a record of mental illness. Still, Dr. Stanley Arnold checked with my manager Don who confirmed that my job performance was exemplary and that I was not disruptive in the work place. I felt confident at least that part of the "bargain" was being kept. I also felt that I was doing an excellent job on the project I was working on and any attempt to threaten my job based on incompetency at that time would have been difficult to do. My real concern still remained staying alive.

Political Prisoners Three Choices

The interesting thing about the weekend at my inlaws was that Anita's father who we visited in the hospital that Saturday never did anything to raise my suspicions. We were there for over 2 hours and nothing unusual happened then or any other time with Anita's father, Hugho. He is one of several people the the Nazis were not able to use against me while I was employed. It not that surprising if you knew Hugho. He was a gruff, independent person and if anyone had approached him with some Nazi action to carry against me, he probably would have told them to go f... themselves. That was just the type of person he was and he had endured the original Nazi government so he knew what governments are like.

After returning home, Anita and I said very little. The next day I returned to work and went into John Waymore's office and told him I wanted to see the company doctor. John quickly arranged for a meeting, and I was soon on my way to see Dr. Arnold. Dr. Arnold was not a psychiatrist, and he appeared to be more of an administrator than a practicing doctor. I once again repeated by Gamma Supplies story and the related problems for him as he carefully took notes. After I finished talking, Dr. Arnowitz suggested I see the company psychiatrist, but I refused. My other fear, in addition to being killed was that I would be confined to a mental institution and an evaluation of a psychiatrist was needed for that. I did not want to give anyone the opportunity to find a reason to have me confined. If I were dead, the sicko psychopaths could use my deposition as my testamony. Having me confined in an institution would allow them to do the same thing. It all revolved around my court testamony in the Gamma Supplies' federal lawsuit. The rest of the abbreviated week I spent looking forward to the Thanksgiving vacation.

I should add what I again didn't realize at the time is that a political prisoner in Nazi america has three choices: 1)death 2)confinement, usually prison and 3)exile. And those are the only choices you have once the Nazi government makes you an enemy of the state.

More suspicious behavior.

That weekend we decided to visit Ursula's parents. Her father was in the hospital with complications from diabetes. Anita's younger sister Ingrid and her husband Tim were going to be visiting too so they could could go see Anita's father. I was glad that there would be someone else to talk to over the weekend. When we arrived her mother failed to greet me in her usual manner which was to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. This time she just said "hello". Her unusual, distant behavior bothered me, but I didn't pay too much attention to it.

On Sunday morning Anita, Ingrid, Tom and I went to a local flea market. As soon as we arrived, Anita and Ingrid went off on their own and Tom and I were left to tour the grounds. I had been so isolated at work that I was thrilled to have someone to interact with in a normal manner. However, after a few minutes, Tom made some excuse to leave and he never returned. Tom's sudden departure bothered me and it almost seemed as if he was avoiding me. I rationalized that "they" could not possibly turn my own inlaws against me, but I was getting very suspicious. Later, when it was time to go home, I found Tom and we were joined by Anita and Ingrid. No one talked all the way home.

Later that afternoon at Anita's parent's house, I walked into the living room and found Tom watching a football game on TV. When he saw me walk in the room he quickly switched channels. I was curious about the football game.

"What's the score?"

"Oh, it's 21-0 Denver". He replied.

"Why don't you put the game back on? I asked. "Who is Denver playing?"

"Green Bay," he responded.

Tom switched the game back on and we watched for awhile. Soon the score was announced; Green Bay zero, Denver zero. I just looked at Tom who sat there expressionless. I was more that disturbed by Tom's obvious lie since I was constantly bombarded with lies like that at work. It seemed like too much of a coincident. Again the suspicion and anxiety began to increase.

That evening, Ingrid and Tom were the first to depart. I was still watching football when Ingrid came over and said, "I have to give Russ a good-bye kiss." She then bent over and kissed me on the cheek. By now I was totally paranoid again and all sorts of wild thoughts raced through my head as to why Anita had kissed me "good-bye." In the eleven previous years I had known her, she had never done that and her sudden change in behavior caused even more anxiety.

After Tome and Ingrid had left, I continued to watch TV while Anita and her mother were talking in the kitchen. Finally I decided it was time to leave. I got up and walked into the kitchen just as Anita's mother was saying to her, "So you'll just have to learn to live without him." Then she looked up and saw me standing there. "I was just telling Anita I thought I could never get along without her father, but I learned how to cope now that he in no longer here." She continued. It was not something someone in my position wanted to hear.

Then there was a long period of silence. "We had better get going; it's a long drive back." I said.

As we were leaving, I walked towards Anita's mother to give her a hug when she unexpectedly shied away from me. Now I knew her failure to give me a hug and kiss when we arrived was not an accident and her actions helped confirm my suspicions that some of the things that had transpired during our two day visit were not entirely spontaneous. I left feeling even more anxious and I had a new feeling of hopelessness that had not been present before.

GOD DAMN AMERICA! IMPORTANT NOTE: Anita's family had come to America after WWII. They were German and Anita's father had designed aircraft for the German military. So Anita's mother knew what Nazi governments do to their victims. She knew I had no future - she had seen the previous Nazi empire first hand!!! It is ironic that they fled one Nazi regime to move to another.

Nothing Is Sacred to the Nazi Government except protecting the wealth and powerful.

I returned to RAM with the same fears and concerns that I had left with. If anything, the time away from the daily harassment only gove me time to confirm the serious state of affairs I was experienceing at work. It also heightened my fear that "they" would make other attempts to terminate my life.

After I returned to work, things remained pretty much the same. I also kept going to see Dr. Cohen in the hopes that things would get better, but I might as well flushed by money down the toilet for all the help he was giving me. Finally, through the use of constant suggestions, I became so convinced I was going to be killed that I feared going to Dr. Cohen's house in the dark and I began talking to Anita about her continuing life without me. During a regular session with Dr. Cohen, I expressed my fear of being killed and instead of addressing the fear he immediately asked me if I had any other fears. I told him no that the only real fear I had was that of being killed. Even if I had other fears whatever it may have been, I would not have told him because "they" would have acted out a scenario to realize that fear. Then as we ended our session Dr. Cohen abruptly changed the topic.

"Do you have a phone?" he asked.

"No, because they terrorize me with it." I replied.

"We for God's sake, join the modern age and get a phone." He chided.

I left feeling a little bewildered as to why Dr. Cohen had brought up the phone as a topic so abrubtly, but I soon forgot about it. Soon after I got home, Anita pulled into the garage. I rushed down the stairs and opened the door to greet her.

"Hi, see you're still alive!" She exclaimed.

"Hi, I'm glad to see you're home." I answered.

"By the way, I called the phone company today and ordered a phone. They will install it this week," was her immediate reply.

A bolt of fear struck through me. Was it an elipse or a circle? I was just seemed to much of a coincidence that Dr. Cohen had forced the topic of a phone into our conversation, and now the first thing Anita tells me is that she has ordered a phone. Anita knew about the harassing phone calls, and she also knew that I didn't want a phone in the house. Still she had gone ahead and ordered one without consulting me. I was angry.

"You know I don't want a phone in the house." I yelled.

"Well I want one and besides you can always have it taken out," She replied.

"You know how "they" terrorize me."

"Now Russell," she said. "No one is terrorizing you."

I couldn't believe my ears. I kept thinking my own wife was betraying me. Somehow whether I had a phone or not seemed irrelevant at the moment. The fear of being alone as "they" had threatened was overwhelming. I was in a complete state of anxiety, but there was nothing I could do.

Again much later, I learned it was a common practice of the american Nazi government to pit one spouse against the other in a effort to destroy the victim spouse. In fact, the pitting one sex against the other has become a common divide and conquer technique in american society. I know of one case were a "mentally ill" political prisoner was supported by his wife. In that case the american government's solution was to declared that the victim's wife was also mentally ill! Simply amazing!

In today's world, americans are inundated with high tech spyware on TV, in movies and through other sources that I and other americans forget that the easiest way to spy on someone is to have a person close to the victim betray him or her. And who is closer to most people than their spouse. As I have stated in a handout that I distribute, "To the American government, family, marriage, love and sex are merely useful tools in the creation of the ultimate fascist state, Neo-Nazi America."

A Glimpse of the Future.

The following Tuesday, I flew to Washington, D.C. The flight was uneventful and until I arrived at the airport. I couldn't find my luggage. After some checking I learned my luggage was lost! That meant I spent that night and the next morning without a change of clothing. Finally, the next day around noon, I was informed my luggage had been found and it was being delivered to my hotel room. I was relieved, but I couldn't help but wonder if the inconvenience hadn't been arranged.

The next couple of days was free from the constant harassment that I was experiencing at work. The brief respite from the daily terrorism only served to allow the hate, anger and frustration that had built up in me to rise to the surface. Without constantly being on the defensive against the harassment, my feelings were surfacing and I found it frightening how uncontrollable the rage inside was. I kept wondering how long I could keep my emotions and actions under control and what would be the ultimate result of all the terrorism and torture to which I was being subjected. Just as these thoughts raced through my mind, fate gave a glimpse at my possible future.

I was sitting at the hotel bar, waiting to go to dinner when I struck up a conversation with a man who had consumed a few too many drinks. After some idle chit-chat the man became inquisitive.

"Who do you work for?" He queried.

"RAM" I replied.

His reaction was intense and totally unexpected.

"I hate RAM. I use to work for them and they destroyed my whole life. I just got a divorce, you know. I still have a small house. It's not much, but it is all I have left."

"What did you do for them?"

I'm an attorney." He replied. "I was a patent attorney for RAM."

You could have knocked me off the chair with a feather. "What did they do to you?" I asked.

"I can't talk about it, but I hate RAM!"

I tried several more times to find out what had happened to cause his demise, but he seemed afraid to talk about it. Later he started talking to the bartender about going hunting and killing. The bartender who was a Vietnam veteran was visibly upset by the man's constant talk about killing and he finally offered the customer a free drink if he would just change the subject. I sat there wondering if I was looking at myself down the road in three or four years.

Is their hope??????

I got a brief respite from the harassment when I was unexpectedly chosen to attend a photopolymer symposium in Washington, D. C. By now I lived in a constant state of anger and frustration, but I always managed to keep my poise at work and said nothing. The day prior to my departure to Washington, Don walked up to me in the laboratory and said, "That's it. Keep it all inside and let it eat away at you." He said nothing else while standing there smirking at me. I just looked at him with a blank stare. The nazi scumbags knew I had to put up with their torture in order to work and survive and they loved to mock me every chance they got. They were laughing at the fact that I had to live with all the anger and hatred.

Taunting their victims is a common practice of this nazi government and is a major reason a lot of the world hates america. People who do not understand why 9/11 happened do not understand the real america - the america that destroys human life and then taunts its victims. THIS IS THE REAL AMERICA; THE AMERICA THE REST OF THE WORLD RECOGNIZES.

For several days the torture abated, and it gave me time to think about the atrocities that had been committed against me and further nurtured the hatred I had for my captors and tormentors. But my tormentors wanted more; they wanted me to hate everyone. They wanted me to be totally irrational.

The sudden change in my environment also gave me the impression that RAM would honor their agreement. Maybe RAM wanted to, but ultimately my fate would be decided by the powerful nazis who had repeatedly demonstrated that they were pathological liars. But when you are in a desperate situation you grab on to any hope, and my hope was that as long as I went along with the mental illness story, the nazis would allow me to work. Somehow the threat that I would never work again faded into the background. It is like a common poster on office walls at RAM stated: "When you're up to your neck in alligators, it is easy to forget that your objective is to drain the swamp."

Heading towards doomsday.

The haraqssment level at work was increasing. The annoying phone calls at work were routine and numbered four to five a day. Of course if I mentioned this to Dr. Cohen, he would tell me everyone gets calls because people dial the wrong number and then hang up. The fact that I was getting four or five a day at my office or in the laboratory seemed to escape his attention.

I was also receiveing increased harassment from my co-workers and Osama Ikill was becoming a major villan. On one morning he came in the office and said "Hello". Sinec I was feeling depressed, I just nodded my head in acknowledgement. Osama went into a tirade.

"Don't you have enough decency to say good morning?" He said.

"I nodded my head in response in case you didn't notice."

"You don't even know how to be a human being." He snapped back.

"I don't know how to be a human being because I don't say good morning?" I asked increduously. "I think you have a lot to learn about being a human being."

We were both getting very angry so I got up and left. But I couldn't help seeing the irony in his statement. Osama was a principal antagonist in the plan to torture me, and he was telling me I did not know how to be a human being. The thing I found most disturbing about Osama was that unlike most of the people at RAM, he seemed to have no remorse about his actions. He acted like his terrorism of me was just another aspect of his job. This made my dislike towards him even greater.

I later found out that Osama had a lot of pent-up hatred. He was Armenian and had a lot of hostility that is so common today in the middle east. It really made him a scary person and I wouldn't be at all surprised that today he funnels some of his Nazi made riches to terrorist organiaztions in the Middle East.

But, the Nazi american government loved him because he was helping destroy a working class american. He was a loyal Nazi.

The Insane Psychopath's Solution - Be More Insane!

For the people reading this, let me say that deliberate "coincidences" don't seem like a big deal at first. After all, today Big Brother watches you and researches information on you all the time. Your medical, library and other records are routinely checked by those in authority, video cameras are everywhere in stores, work places and on the highways and everyone is encouraged to report anything "suspicious" that a neighbor or coworker might do. It is a real Orwellian society. So a few arranged coincidences to let the victim know he is being watched seems like no big deal.

But the arranged coincidences that were being orchestrated in my environment had a much more sinister, and scientifically based purposes. They were meant to drive me insane and cause a nervous breakdown. At the time these events were taking place, I was unaware of the psychological studies supporting the purpose, just as I was unaware that the psychological double binds (no-win situations) could cause schzophenia. The original experiments were carried out on dogs, but I'm sure there are human experiments such as those carried out by Dr. Cameron for the CIA which have never been reported to the public.

The basic scenario is this. A caged dog is shown a wite circle at the far end of his cage. When the dog goes over to check it out, he is fed or given some sort of treat(positive reinforcement). Eventually the dog becomes conditioned to run over to get the treat as soon as the white circle is inserted in the cage. Then a white elipse(football shaped) object is inserted in the cage. As soon as the dog runs over to inspect the object expecting food, he is given an electric shock. In time, the dog becomes conditioned so that a white circle causes him to run over and get food, and a white elipse inserted in the cage causes the dog to stay away and cower in fear.

Now the object inserted in the cage becomes less of an elipse, but not a true circle. The white object inserted in the cage becomes indistinguishable to the dog. Will he be shocked or will he receive food? Eventually when the inserted white object becomes indistinguishable to the dog, he will become agitated, pace or tremble in the corner. In other words the dog will no longer be able to function normally and will have a nervous breakdown.

In my case, the insane psychopaths(redundant)created obvious coincidences and there are of course natural coincidences occurring in ones environment. If you create enough coincidences like the snow tires, and the victim knows the malicious, sick perpetrators are behing the actions, the victim becomes conditioned and fear is created. Eventually, the victim can no longer tell a true coincident from an orchestrated one. The result - a nervous breakdown, the victim can no longer function normally. And remember, the coincidences followed by the electric shock started almost from the day I joined Gamma Supplies. A example - I mentioned that it annoyed me when the phone rang and when you answered, the calling party hung up. The very next day, I started receiveing harrassing phone calls(coincidence followed by electric shock). And these sick bastards still some 30 years later are trying to convince people that my being tortured is my fault. IT WAS PREMEDITATED!

Now the dog had to be caged or else he would run away. The victim of the fascist sickos had to be poor so he didn't have the economic resourse to escape. Now the whole plan to use and destroy the victim is looking more and more premeditated from day one. And one last major factor that keeps the victim from fleeing is that I was born and raised in america and as a result I had been throughly conditioned to believe in the american system - The Big Lie(Hitler's famous statement)that all of you are conditioned to believe in. I guess the good new is americans today are becoming less and less gullible and more and more angry.

Now really folks, how many average americans know the techniques to drive a person insane? But the sickos in Nazi government and business do and they use it to destroy people who they exploit. And they do it WITH YOUR TAX DOLLARS. They use your tax dollars to destroy decent, law bidding, hard working citizen victims who want to warn the rest of the world about Fascist America. Oh, and at the nonskilled working position, it appears Fascist America plans to replace decent, law-bidding, hard working natural citizens with illegal immigrants!

Malicious Fascist Big Brother is watching YOU!

The object of the change in the day of my weekly meeting with Dr. Cohen seemed to be to isolate Anita from the rest of the world with which I had contact. One of the initial unusual things about my RAM job was that no one from RAM had made any contact with my wife. In addition to the fact we had been give no assistance in finding a home, no one had made any attempt to welcome Anita to the area. Now it appeared an attempt was being made to isolate her from my therapist. Initially I could not understand the reason for the separation of my life from my wife, but when I later became knowledgeable in terrorist techniques, the reason became obvious.

It was now early November and I decided to get snow tires for the Datsun sports car. Normally I would have just called some local shop and made an appointment to have the tires changed, but now because of the past tampering with the car, I was afraid something would go wrong. I decided to have Anita call my parents from her work place and have my parents make an appointment at the Datsun dealer in Scranton. That way I thought that "they" might not know and would not mess things up. The next day I went into work and Don immediately came up to me and said "Do you have your snow tires on your car yet?" I was a little stunned at first, but I just took it as a coincident. Later in the day I was working in the laboratory when Don walked in and started a conversation. Somewhere in the middle of the conversation Don again asked the same question about snow tires. "Do you have your snow tires on your car yet?"

At that point I knew it was no longer a coincidence and "they" were letting me know that "they" knew I was going to have snow tires put on my car. Immediately the fear of something going wrong ran through my mind, and I imagined all sorts of ways "they" could have found out about my plans. Just to make sure that I did't think the reference to snow tires was a coincidence, Don ran into me in the men's room, walked up to me and again said, "Do you have your snow tires on your car yet?" He paused, "Oh, I already asked you that." Then he looked directly at me and half smiled.

What could I do? If I asked him why he kept asking me that question, he could have given me any answer and then tell me I should see the doctor about my "problem". In fact, when I did question anything, I was immediately sent to medical. It was a classic "no win" situation.

Can you trust your THE RAPIST (therapist)?

That evening I decided to change the locks again. However, the burglar-proof locks I had installed were impossible to remove and I spent over an hour trying to figure out a way to change them without damageing the doors. Finally Anita became irritated with me and yelled out, "Russell, get up here! You have an obsession with locks." Anita said it in a tone that implied that changeing the locks was not going to do any good. I knew she was right and reluctantly gave up and decided to live with the fact that "they" could come and go in my house as they pleased.

I did consider getting a couple of big fierce dogs, but I wasn't happy about that solution to the problem and I was concerned for the safety of our small maltese/poodle if I had two large dogs around.

I continued to see Dr. Cohen, but I was becoming increasingly frustrated at his unwillingness to discuss the things which were happening in my life. Instead of talking about the issues, he continued to take detailed notes of the events which had happened at Gamma Supplies as I related them to him. Finally, one evening Anita was going to be late for my appointment. Dr. Cohen said that was good because he wanted to talk to me alone anyway. Then he pulled his chair forward, leaned toward me and out of the blue said, "Tell me Russell, do you have an obsession with locks?" I sat there stunned and before I could say anything he continued and related another coincidence to me. I sat there shocked and felt I could no longer trust him. Nothing had been done except a coincidence, but it was enough to make me paranoid after all of the conditioning I had been subjected to. And of course, I was suppose to be paranoid.

As soon as Anita showed up, everything became normal except that at the end of the session, Dr. Cohen informed me that he would have to change the day of our weekly meeting. Any day was acceptable to me, but it just happened to turn out that the only day acceptable to him was Mondays which was the only evening Anita could not attend. Now that was some coincidence! From then on, I went alone on Mondays to my weekly sessions without a corroborating witness.

American Nazi terrorist technique.

Since I had changed the locks, nothing in the house had been disturbed until one day I came home from work and found some books in the bedroom. When Anita came home, I asked her if she had moved any of my books. She replied "no".

"Well then someone was in the house andy moved things just to let me know they were here because I've kept all of my books in the other rooms.

Anita again took the other side. "Are you sure?"

Again anger rose in me. "Of course I'm sure damn it. I haven't moved any of my books in here. These books were in the other room when I left this morning. "They" are just doing this to cover up the switched sworn statements. They'll say I hallucinated or something. I'm going to check to see if anything else is missing."

I was furious that "they" could just invade my privacy at will. Again, as was the case at Gamma Supplies, I was to have no privacy - a key element of mental torture.
As I searched the house, I realized my brown winter coat was missing.

"Where's my coat?" I screamed.

"How should I know?" Anita replied.

Well, it's not in the closet. I suppose you're going to tell me that's my imagination too."

"Did you check the other closets?" Anita asked.

I checked the rest of the house, but my coat was gone. The anger and frustration were intense, but I had no idea what to do. My immediate concern became replacing my winter coat.

Let me skip ahead. For years the above type of incidences would occur regularly, but I could never prove anything. And of course, it sounded crazy. Especially frustrating were incidents when something would disappear and would then reappear maybe a month later at a different location. That was a real mind game. And I could never prove it and anyone I complained to would quickly dismiss missing items by saying "did you ever see them?". That is "Can you prove it?"

Finally, after years of mental terrorism like the above, when I was living alone in Kentucky, some neighbors finally told me they saw people leaving my apartment when I wasn't there. And, these were not maintainance people or some one working for the apartment complex. These were well dressed men(gestapo agents) in suits who drove off in a late model sedan. And after I started tell people that yes, I could prove people were coming in my home when I wasn't there because there were witnesses, the Nazi government left me proof as if to mock me and to laugh at me by demonstrating that there was nothing I could do about. But up until the time I had proof, anything I said made me sound "crazy".

To Be Paranoid, EVERYONE must be against you!

Due to Anita's apparent growing skepticism, I decided Anita should attend my weekly visits to the psychologist with me. We would comfirm my beliefs. My visits to Howard Cohen, psycholoogist, were arranged for a mid-week evening. Ursula initially attended with me. The first couple of sessions were perfectly normal and I was glad to have someone to talk to.

Howard Cohen had been professionaly successful and was on the state evaluation board.
He was a small balding man in his late forties who held his practice in an office located in his attractive home. He was easy to talk to, but at times I felt he was more interested in telling me how important he was rather than listening to my problems. Initially I had hoped he would discuss the strange things that were happening in my life, but instead he wanted to talk about Gamma Supplies. I said fine. Then he took out a paper and pen and wrote down everything I told him. This made the process painfully slow and laborious, and of course it used up valuable time that I was paying for without giving me any real benefit. Anita sat through these sessions quietly and seldom said anything. The sessions with Dr. Cohen benefitted me very little, but by attending these sessions I felt I was fulfilling my part of "the deal".

Anita now completely changed he position about the whole affair. Now instead of being supportive about things, she was an oppenent. When I would tell her about the annoying phone calls at work, she would defend them by saying people sometimes get the wrong number. When someone would give me double talk or directly lie to me, I would ask her if she noticed anything wrong and she would reply that everything was normal. I was perplexed by her change in her position.

Isolation - A key element of mental torture!

That weekend at our garage sale, Barry showed up. He was his usual happy, friendly self and demanded a tour of our new house. I was thrilled to have a normal relationship with an old friend and we must have talked for over an hour. Finally, on his insistance, I agreed to call him the following evening so we could make some concrete plans for getting together in the near future.

The next evening I went to the neighbor's house to use their phone to call Barry. I still didn't have a phone because of the incessant harassing phone calls. Immediately when we started to talk, I could tell something was wrong. Barry was no longer enthusiastic and he seemed somewhat distant instead of his warm friendly self. We started talking about getting together, but every weekend I mentioned, Barry had some excuse. After trying about four different dates, I mentioned that maybe we should just wait for the holidays. Barry quickly agreed with that suggestion and said he would give me a call around Christmas. I hung up feeling depressed and knowing that "they" had somehow intervened and were determined to keep me isolated. Barry's sudden reversal in his interest to get together just did not seem right. But of course, I couldn't prove anything.

Shortly after we moved into our house and received our furniture, my relationship with Anita began to change. Somewhat to my surprise, Anita was now beginning to question things I said. In particular I became angry when she questioned my belief that I was being isolated. We were taking a walk around the block one evening and I was discussing my predicament as usual.

"I can accept never having the opportunity to be a manager, and I can learn to accept that I was used as a witness, but I can't live with having all of my friends taken away. I don't have a single friend at RAM(as was the case at Gamma Supplies).

Anita interrupted me. "You never did have any friends before. No one is trying to isolate you."

Anger raged in me. "What do you mean I never had any friends! When we lived in Philadelphia(prior to Gamma Supplies), I played tennis, we had people over for dinner and we went to company functions with other people. Of course I had friends! But now no matter what I do, I'm rejected.

Anita did not argue with me anymore.

I Decided to address "my problem"

The next day at work, I went into John's office and told him I had decided to see a Ph.D. psychologist about my problem. John offered to make an appointment to see the company doctor again, but I declined and said I would see my own doctor. John said he was glad I was taking care of my serious problem.

The events at work continued to occur and involved more and more people. On day while I was out of the office an old friend from graduate school who lived in the area called me. Usually no one took my calls or told me anything, but this was different. When I returned to my office, there was a note on my desk that Barry Grinie from Exxon had called. I threw the note away because I knew "they" would not allow me to have any social interactions because "they" had always made every effort to isolate me. Soon Osama came in and told me Barry Grinie had called. Then the secretary told me the same thing as did two people from an adjacent office. For weeks no one had take a single call for me even though I had received some and now suddenly everyone was telling me about one call. The whole incident seemed orchestrated.

After a lot of internal conflict, I decided to give Barry a call. Barry had been in the same entering class at graduated school and had worked for the same research advisor. While at graduate school we had paried and dined together, and after we went our separate ways we had kept in touch. I had known Barry was in the area, but under the circumstances I had decided not to contact him. Now he had initiated the contact. I returned Barry's call and he was glad to hear from me and was very aggressive about getting together with our wives as soon as possible. I told him I was having a garage sale the next weekend, but anytime after that would be fine. I was relieved that the situation was normal and the whole thing had not been a set-up the way "they" usually did things. My relief however, would be short lived.

Costly repairs and a "Good Luck"

I returned home and went back to RAM expecting more of the same and I was not disappointed. At home, we found a repairman to fix our broken appliances. He repaired the washer and dryer without much trouble, but the coils on the refrigerator had been broken to the point that they were nearly beyond repair. He said the refrigerator might work and then spent a considerable amount of time repairing the damage. After he had completed the work, he commented about the extent of the damage and then as he was leaving he unexpectedly extended his hand to shake mine.

Then he said, "Boy, I don't know what you did, but good luck."

The amazing thing was that I was beginning to believe that I had done something wrong. I felt that I was indeed to blame for my predicament. It is interesting when you see a newscast about someone who is robbed, beaten and terrorized, you automatically think that the low-life criminals are to blame and they should be put in jail or worse. But, when low-life powerbrokers destroy someone's life, and they rob and terrorize a victim, people tend to think the victim is a deserving receipient. It goes back to Stanely Millgram's "Obedience To Authority". If the powerbrokers say the victim is deserving of the torture, then people just accept it. In other words, right and wrong is defined by who is doing the terrorism and torture in the mind's of most people. This concept that right and wrong are relative, is how Nazi states are born.

The TV repair was another major problem. When the repairman came to our house, he said the 23 inch picture tube(this is 1978) had to be replaced, and the cost would be two hundred and fifty dollars. Then he told me it would take 3-4 weeks to replace the tube. When I questioned himn as to the reason for the long time to replace an RCA picture tube, the repairman became very uneasy. He had no answer and took the TV. He said he would call us when it was ready.

That evening evening Anita and I went shopping and we happened to drive past the TV repair shop. I stopped, went in and identified myself to the man behind the desk. He inquired into the nature of my problem and when I told him about the TV, he assured me that it could be fixed in three to four days. Just then the repair man who had picked up the TV walked into the room. The man at the desk that I had just talked to begain drilling the repairman as to why he had said it would take three to four weeks to replace a picture tube. The two got into a heated argument, and the repairman supporting the three to four weeks position had no real reason for the long time other that that was the way things were. Finally the man at the desk said it would be three to four weeks although he didn't know why. I left the shop feeling that "they" were somehow involved.

America - The True Biblical Empire of Evil

While fear and hatred might be reasons for the insane powerbrokers to destroy my life and me, the ultimate reason was the LOVE OF MONEY. While the Bible lists many types of sin, it only states one cause of ALL EVIL. "The love of money is the root of all evil." And what is the basis of america? What is its distinguishing nature of america - Capitalism! And what is capitalism about? The love of money. And what was the trial rigging all about? The Love Of Money!

While my captors and would be executioners are brilliant at making money; they made hundred of millions of dollars for their corporations over the years by rigging the trial and programing my testamony which was used at the trial, they are evil to the core and are stupid about human life, God and people. And many religions in its quest for political power, has twisted the teachings of Christ to conform to supporting the evil american empire. After all, the Bible defines Satan's last, great world conquering empire as america. But that's another story. I said from day one, my demise was all about the love of money. And of course, if I survived, my punishment for not worshipping evil would be a life of deprevation without money.

I left Enie's place feeling even worse than when I arrived. I could not even trust the advice of one of my oldest friends and he had revealed the the Nazi powerbrokers
were blaming me for their failings. This was meant to generate guilt which is a very important ingredient in menticide*. I remembered how at Gamma Supplies when anything went wrong or there were problems, no matter how rediculuous it seemed, the problem was my fault. Now the sick bastards were making it look like I was a deserving recipient of the torture and terror to which I was being subjected. How much worse could things ultimately get???

*MENTICIDE is a term used by Joost Abreham Meerloo in his book, "The Rape Of The Mind". I quote: "Menticide is an old crime against the human mind and spirit but systematized anew. It is an organized system of psychological intervention and judicial perversion through which a powerful dictator can imprint his own opportunistic thoughts upon those he plans to use and destroy."

It is interesting to note that Meerloo's first example is about Nazi Germany.

The Real Motives - Hatred and Fear

After a couple of days, I decided I was not quite sure I wanted to cooperate with the
"solution". As usual though, my initial acceptance of the solution did result in some changes in my work environment. The changes reflected a form of behavior modification where changes in my environment were used to reward "correct" actions and punish "unacceptaable" actions. Behavioral psychologists call this positive and negative reinforcement. Prior to my talk with John, I had been totally excluded from all meetings and department gatherings. Occasionally I would see a notice of a department meeting laying around and my name would be conspicuously missing. But now suddenly Don came in and told me the time and place for the next department meeting and made every effort to make sure I would be attend. I had been excluded from the original notice of the meeting, but now I was inexplicably being told I should attend it. Also, almost immediately after my conversation with John, Don left a signed card on my desk which enabled me to attend an in-house electronics course. He had held the card for over two weeks while Osama had his request card for the same course returned in a couple of days. The timing was not coincidental.

The manipulation of my environment to control my behavior only further infuriated me, and their record of not honoring("they" have no concept of honor)their agreements made me decide to seek other advice. I went in to see John again and told him that I was having second thoughts about things and wanted him to cancel the appointment with the company doctor which he had made. I told him I wanted to discuss the situation with a friend.

I was beginning to wonder if all the stress wasn't effecting my mind to the point that I was letting coincidences bother me too much. I wondered if I was over reacting. I decided to test a coincidence out on someone else. One morning I came to the office and Osama was out doing something so I checked over his desk. There was an article from the local newspaper tucked away in a cubicle about an opera company appearing at the Poughkeepsie Civic Center. I read the article, put it back and when Garo came in I struck up a conversation about his interests.

"I have lots of interests," he snapped back sharpley.

"Do you like opera?" I asked. "Did you know they have operas from touring companies appearing at the Poughkeepsie Civic Center".

Osama got a stunned look on his face and then looked over his desk for the newspaper article. Then he glared at me as if to say, "you've been going through the things on my desk". He angerily turned back to his desk and went back to work on some papers. For some reason he no longer wanted to talk to me. He also knew he couldn't prove anything. I went back to work too, but now I knew I was not overreacting. Coincidences like that which I was experiencing have a very shocking effect on the victim.

That weekend I returned to my parents place in Scranton, PA. On Sunday I made a visit to an old friend and mentor of mine, Ernie Kovac. Ernie was a General in the Air Force Reserves, a former chemisty professor of mine and a locally politically active community member. If there was anyone I knew who might be familiar with my type of situation I was in, Ernie was the man. As usual, Ernie greeted me warmly and invited me into his home. As we chatted I noticed he mentioned some things that did not make a lot of sense, but I dismissed his remarks. Then I told him about my problem. After listening intently he summed up the situatiobn by saying, "Surely one person like yourself is not going to stop something that big".

"But that's just it," I replied. "I don't want to stop it; I just want the harassment to stop."

Then Ernie suggested we go outside and take a walk around the groungs. As we walked he sstarted asking me about my niece. He kept asking the same questions over and over again, the way a small child would until it became annoying. Suddenly I realized he was doing it on purpose! I looked at him with fear in my eyes and once he saw the look on my face he stopped doing it. After that, the nature of our conversation changed. He began talking in analogies and related through analogies that my problems were due in part because some people considered me arrogant and certain people hated me. I stood there in disbelief. Things had been planned and orchestrated from the day I walked into Gamma Supplies and now I was being told that things were my fault. And remember, Ernie had known me for about 15 years and had helped me in my career in many ways. Now I was practically pleading with Ernie.

"What can I do?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I have a friend who knows about these things. I'll talk to him and see what I can do."

"Thank you. I just want to end this war. I can't take much more of this abuse. I'm not even sure if I am going back to RAM. What should I do?"

Ernie didn't even hesitate. "Go back to RAM." He said.

I knew Darth Korey hated me and was not surprised when Ernie informed me that Darth had hire two thugs to beat me up and break my legs. That most likely was the plan when Jay Wells had invited me to go with him to the Full Sails restaurant for drinks. I instinctively knew at the time that something was amiss and had refused to accept his offer. Given the low-life, psychopathic personality of Darth, that revelation did not surprise me at all.

But basically I had violated the number one, prime law that is given in Robert Greene's book, The 48 Laws of power. Law 1 is "Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please or impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite - inspire FEAR and INSECURITY. Make your masters appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power.

What I had never realized was that I was a slave and that I had made some very powerful and stupid masters look bad by exposing a very bad plan. I just hadn't realized I was a slave. I thought I was living in america - BOY WAS I WRONG!

Make Him A Deal He Can't Refuse

By now I had about all the abuse I could take. I was in a constant state of anxiety and I live in a total state of fear. I took out additional term life insurance to cover the mortgage on the house in case “they” were successful in arranging a fatal accident. If I were dead, my unsigned deposition could be used in a court of law as my testimony. I went to work the following Monday not knowing what to expect next. The usual harassment continued with people giving me a bunch of double talk and everyone lying to me about everything. It reached the point where I couldn't believe anything anyone told me. Finally I decided to go to my second level manager and try to find some solution. I decided not to talk to Don, my first level manager because he was so scared and nervous that I couldn't depend on him to get things straight.

My second level manager, John Waymore was the typical well-groomed RAM manager. He never showed any emotions and he did everything by the book. I went into his office almost in tears and said, “John, what do they want from me?”

John didn't even ask who “they” were or what I meant. Instead he replied, “Russ, you have a serious problem and you don't want to get yourself in a box you can't get out of.”

“I know John.” “My primary concern is staying alive and I need some help.”

John listened intently and then said, “I'll talk to some people and see if there isn't a solution to this. I'll get back to you tomorrow.”

I said “fine” an left.

That evening I told Anita everything and she said little. By now I was so anxious again that I spoke rather freely to Anita. She was definitely interested in what was happening.

The next day I eagerly went to John's office. John told me the RAM attorney could not help me, but maybe Dr. Stanley Arnold, the company doctor could. John then went on to tell me that if I were an alcoholic, RAM would do everything to cure me. The implication was that RAM would do everything to cure me of my “mental illness”, but he carefully avoided using those words. I was disappointed because his “solution” was what I had expected all along. I had told Anita while I was still at Gamma Supplies that “they”, the sick, subhuman filth behind all of my problems, were going to say I was “mentally ill” as their way of covering up their crimes. John patently told me that as long as I got treatment for
my problem, everything would be fine. And, of course he promised that I would always have a job since RAM provided lifetime security. In fact, John assured me I had a good future at RAM if I could just get my Gamma Supplies problem straightened out. I found it strange that John should mention Gamma Supplies since I had never defined my problem, but then we were negotiating a solution to the unmentioned problem. I told John I would make everyone happy and I would see the doctor and that his “solution” to the problem was acceptable.

It may seem strange that I left the meeting relieved that all I had to do was be mentally ill to solve my problems. Desperate people do really stupid things, and I was desperate. Otherwise, why would I believe psychopathic, pathological lairs? These sick bastard had lied to me about everything from day one and now suddenly I believed them! I was really desperate. I never considered what these subhuman scumbags would do once the had an established history of “mental illness”. They would then be safe and have absolutely no need for me. As it was now, they still needed my unsigned deposition for my testimony. My testimony was critical in the lawsuit because my name was on the Patent of the Rapid Set system and I had done almost all of the work on the system. The mental illness story would cover up the how of how they got my testimony in the first place. As John Marks points out in his book about the CIA, painting someone as a nut job, a crazy, is a convenient way to discredit any opponent and/or critic.

That evening I went home from work and announced to my wife that I had a solution to
my problem. Anita was not pleased with the “solution”. Then I approached her with the inevitable.

“Maybe we should get a divorce,” I said. “I mean this is not going to be pleasant or easy and maybe it would be best if I did this alone.”

Anita started to cry uncontrollably and hugged me. “I don't want a divorce. I just want you.”

From her reaction I knew it was useless to pursue the subject, but I still thought it was the best thing to do. I knew the future was not going to be bright or pleasant.

Death by accident?

My more immediate concern was staying alive. I felt more and more insecure, and I had a real concern that an attempt would be made on my life. That fear was soon to be realized. The Saturday following the arrival of our furniture, Ursula and I decided to drive around the area. After our damaged had furniture arrived, I began letting Ursula drive our newer Datsun 260-Z sports car to work while I drove the older Camaro to work. Since their goal had been to inflict a lot of damage to our furniture, I was afraid the new sports car would be dented or otherwise mutilated in the RAM parking lot. As we started out on a winding back country road, a slight rain began to fall the roads became damp. Since I knew the roads would be slippery, I was not driving the car as fast as I usually did. As we headed into a turn, the car started to swerve and as I tried to bring it back under control, we slid
completely into the oncoming traffic lane. By the time I got the car back under control, we had traveled a couple hundred yards in the wrong lane. Fortunately there was no other traffic or we would have had a head on collision doing about forty five miles an hour. I eased the car back into the proper land and continued on. Anita sat there looking white as a sheet. As I drove on, I jerked the steering wheel and the car swerved violently.

“Something is wrong.” I said. “This car normally handles well and today I can hardly keep it on the road. The roads are pretty dry now so it is not the road conditions.”

Ursula commented that it did not seem right to her the previous day coming home from work. “Maybe we should stop at a garage and check it out”. She said.

We drove to the nearest gas station where we stopped and I inspected the car. The first thing I noticed was that the right rear tire was very low. I got the tire gauge from the glove box and checked each tire. They were all about 50 percent under inflated. I also noticed that all of the valve stem covers were missing as if by design so that I would know for sure that the car had been tampered with. Anyone who knows anything about cars, knows that badly under inflated tires can cause a car to handle poorly and is a dangerous situation. That coupled with the knowledge that I usually drove the sports car fast could be used to arrange an accident. The fact that I didn't hit anything was pure fate. Had another car been coming towards us when I lost control, I would most likely be dead. Even so, the fact that the car had been tampered with served to generate more fear, anxiety and anger. After I inflated the tires, we headed back home and neither of us said much of anything.

Your Home is only a place for terrorism in Nazi America

He didn't need to say anymore to tell me what kind of trouble I was in. Since he had been an assistant district attorney in Brooklyn for severals years, he was knowledgeable in criminal activity. However, I insisted that I wanted to document the changes in the alteredstatement, and I wanted the noted changes documented in such a way that they would be legally acceptable in a court of law if I were dead or alive. He told me to go ahead and note the changes and then we would make a date to notarize such changes I agreed to do what he had said.

I had been planning on visiting my parents the weekend following the meeting with my attorney and thought that would be a good relaxing atmosphere in which to note the changes in my sworn statement. I still had not told Anita about the changes in the sworn statement. I told her I wanted to take the document with me when we went to my parent's house so I could read it, sign it and then have my sister notarize it for me.

That Friday evening, we drove to my parent's place. Saturday morning I took the sworn statement downstairs to the living room and started to read it. I was shocked by what I saw. The statement now read as I originally had stated things! The incriminating sections which had been deleted were now there intact. Someone had switched had been switched back to the original statement. I walked out to the kitchen where Anita was sitting talking to my mother.

“This is not the same as what they sent me.” I said in a shocked state.

Anita just glanced at me and sheepishly said, “You can't be sure of that.”

Her comment startled me and sent a chill down my spine. It reminded me of the scene in “Silkwood” when Karen Silkwood was on a plane having a conversation when she realizes that her best friend has betrayed her.

“What do you mean I'm not sure!” I was furious. “Those sons-of-bitches knew I was going to document the changes so they switched the original back.”

I couldn't believe what Anita had said, but I was too stunned to talk to her about it. Apparently the sick Nazi bastards had hoped in my anxious state that I would sign the altered document. But when I refused to sign the altered document and was planning to note the changes, the sick Nazi bastards (“they”) switched it back to the original sworn statement. It also meant someone had been in my house to switch the statements and that made me even more furious. I had no privacy in my own house. What irritated me even more was that the last bit of physical evidence I had was gone.

Remember these events took place in 1978, long before 9/11/2001. Soon after 9/11, the Nazi american government made it legal for gestapo agents to enter your home in the “fight against terrorism.” From my experiences, the best way to get rid of terrorism is to get rid of the U. S. government and its corporate substructure.

On October 9,1978 I signed what was now my original sworn statement made to Cruz Little and Associates. I took that along with some other documents and gave them to my sister to place in a safe in the law office where she worked. I gave her the name and address of the Federal Judge in Milwaukee that was trying the case in the event I should be killed. Now how dumb was that? I already knew the Judge was corrupt, but I had no other place to turn. As you will read later, sending it to the Justice Department or the U. S. Attorney General would have been equally futile.

I returned back to New York that Sunday with a sense of relief that I had the original sworn statement back, but I was now living in a constant state of fear for my life because I now knew how far the sick Nazi bastards (“they”) would go to cover up the whole affair.

When we returned home the first thing I did was to go to the suitcase and look for my Costeal diary. It was gone! I had kept it with the altered sworn statement which meant that whoever switched the statements also took the diary. I was furious again at the thought of someone invading my privacy and doing whatever they pleased while I was helpless to do anything about it. My whole life was being manipulated to make things the way “they” wanted them to appear and I had no way of stopping it. It was as if I was living in George Orwell's “1984”.

My first reaction to having the diary stolen was to put new locks on the doors. The next day I went out and bought dead bolt locks for the front and side doors and a new garage door locks. After installation, I gave Ursula a set of keys and gave her specific instructions not to let the keys out of her sight. I foolishly felt sure no one could get in our house now without forcible entry and then I would have proof that someone had been in our home.

We were still living without our household belongings which meant we were thril when we learned our furniture was due to arrive after eight weeks of waiting. I was concerned about the conditions of the items because there had been frequent mention of my furniture at work. Since Dick Sawyer had asked me on four different occasions about my television set, I was particular interested in the condition of the TV. When I came home from work that afternoon, they were finishing unloading the truck. At first glance it seemed as if no items were missing and I began to think my fears and concerns had been for nothing. Then Anita told me the bad news. First and most notable, the picture tube on the TV had been broken. The back end of the tube had been broken off. My fears had been justified. In addition, the coils on the refrigerator had been broken, the hoses on the washer had been slashed and the cord to the dryer had been ripped off. Also the legs to the dining room table were missing. The only major appliance that was in working condition was the dish washer which we did not need because the house had come equipped with one. The neonazi bastards (“they”) had really done a job on my possessions in order to terrorize me and make my life as uncomfortable as possible.

Now you know why some people keep Pit Bulls and Rottweilers in their house. They want to keep the ruling fascist scum out!

Dewey Cheatem & Howe

My life at home was not much better that my time at work. Strange incidences were
also beginning to occur in my personal life. My car insurance was one example. I had paid my car insurance for a six month period when I had been in Louisville, but I had never received a statement of coverage. When it came time to renew the policy, I decided to stay with the same nationally known company. Since I was going through a local agent, I requested a copy of the coverage I was suppose to have. The agent said there should be no problems and that I should receive a copy of the policy. Weeks and then months went by and I received nothing. Every time I called the agent, he assured me I had coverage, but he could not understand why the regional office had not sent me a copy of the policy. I kept thinking “they” had a hand in all of this and “they” were causing me the aggravation and frustration, but I had no proof. I went over a year without knowing if I actually had any kind of automobile insurance. Finally, when I registered my cars in New York I did receive insurance ID cards. Even they were temporary and improperly filled out.

There are two important things to point out about my situation at that time. One, I didn't consider the fact that the U. S. Government had declared all out war on me and that “they” could be intercepting my mail. It turns out that intercepting mail and other communications is a favorite terrorizing and harassing practice of the U. S. Government. And years later I would get ample proof the my mail was being tampered with. I should also note that mail tampering is a common government practice against many Americans. I heard a lecture by a close associate of the late Dr. Martin Luther King where the associate claimed the government commited various acts of terrorism against Mr. King in an effort to discredit him. One of the acts he mentioned was mail tampering.

Second, years later when I was able to read and study about terrorism and terrorists, I learned a major reason behind the secret identity of my captors. Terrorism is most effective if the source of the terror is unknown. If you know the source of the terror, you are more able to form coping mechanisms to deal with the terror. That is why whenever an act of terrorism is committed against the U. S., the government immediately releases the identity of the supposed perpetrator. Even thought the announced perpetrator may not have had anything to do with the terrorist attack, the public feels safer and reassured knowing the name of the terrorist or terrorist group.
I was also experiencing trouble with my lawyer, Dewey Cheatem. I had not been present for the closing on my house and Anita signed all of the documents and then had the lawyer keep the papers. When Anita came home, she asked me if I wanted to keep the documents or if I wanted the lawyer to keep them. I told her I wanted to keep the papers and then called the attorney to tell him I would like the documents on the house. Weeks went by and I received nothing. I called Mr. Cheatem again and reiterated my desire to have the house papers. Again, I received nothing. The third time I wrote him a short note and got the same results. I could not believe that I could not get my copy of the house mortgage. It was if the papers were being held just to frustrate me. Finally, I wrote a very nasty letter threatening a lawsuit if I did not receive my house papers. About a week later, and after several months of aggravation, I received the documents. This would not be the last time I would have difficulty getting documents which belonged to me, but which were in
another person's possession.

Oddly enough, shortly after the closing on the house, I had discussed my Gamma Supplies problems with Dewey Cheatem. I explained what had happened and what had occurred with the second sworn deposition.

“What can I do for you?” He asked.

“Well, the sworn statement I have has been altered from what I said, and I would like to to document the changes.

Dewey just looked straight at me and solemnly said, “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you have a will?”

A Slave's Choice: Torture or Death!

It was a bit ironic that my new next-door-neighbor turned out to be a FBI agent who
specialized in corporate crime. I really didn't have much faith in the FBI being able to helpme with my problems since the government in general had had very little success in an anti-trust suit they had against RAM. The people who were causing my problems were a power elite who literally were above the law. In fact I was becoming more and more convinced that some arm of the government was behind my problems. But, since I had no other hope, I thought I would talk to the agent and maybe use it as leverage.

One weekend while Anita was away visiting her father, I got the opportunity to talk with my new neighbor. I talked to him about my problem in generalities and he seemed interested, but he was more interested in the general business practices at IBM. Little came out of the conversation except an affirmation in my mind that he would be able to do little to help me.

The following Monday I decided to approach my boss to see what response I would get. I went into his office and got directly to the point.

“Hi Don. Do you have a moment to talk about something?”

“Come on in Russ,” he replied.

I took out a small pocket tape recorder and said, “Do you mind if I record this conversation because it is important?”

Don became extremely nervous and started tapping his pencil on the desk and bouncing his feet on the floor. “We can talk about anything you like, but you can't record it!”

I said fine and then continued. “My next door neighbor is a FBI agent, and if the harassment doesn't stop around here I'm going to talk to them. Now you can tell that to whomever you please, but I am not kidding.”

Don was excited and nervous and he didn't know what to say. Apparently “they” had not briefed him for handling such a situation. “Fine, I'll pass you message on,” he finally replied.

“Good.” I said. “Because I'm tired of living like this.”

“You know Russ, you should trust RAM. We would never participate in any nefarious scheme and besides, the FBI treats people pretty rough too.”

I left Don's office feeling at least Don was worried about my going to the FBI. I really had no intention of going to the FBI, but I was hoping the threat might bring some change.

The response to my FBI threat was swift and retaliatory as usual. That afternoon I was working alone in the laboratory when my second level manager, Gene Leski came in and started a conversation with me. After some idle chatter, Gene said, “Russ, a person could get killed working alone.” Then after a long pause he added, “working in the lab that is.” I took the comment to be a disguised threat on my life, but the way it was worded I could never prove it.

That evening I told Anita what had happened and I said, “He worded the threat in such a way that you could argue that it was a harmless comment, but if you had been there, the only way it could have been taken was as a threat.”

One thing the threat had not done was cause any great increase in my anxiety. I just was not worried about them killing me because I believed “they” did not need another martyr like Karen Silkwood on their hands.

The next day at work was fairly normal. There were no harassing phone calls or strange incidences. As I was about to leave work Don Slewowski grabbed me and said he had to talk to me about working in the lab. I said Gene already had spoken to me and another conversation on the topic wasn't necessary. But Don insisted.

“You know Russ, some of your actions are really dangerous. You could get seriously hurt or even killed if you keep it up.”

“I know, Gene already informed me.”

“Well, I'm just telling you for your own protection,” Don assured me with a threatening tone in his voice.

I left work feeling again that my life had been threatened, but it was done under the disguise of working alone in the laboratory. First, none of the threats ever mentioned my comments about going to the FBI and two RAM trained, smooth talking managers would not use words like “killed” in talking about a minor infraction of working in the laboratory alone. Finally, the tone of Don's voice was more threatening than advising, but as usual a person would sound crazy if he said RAM managers were making threats against your life. Given the situation, it would be hard not to take them as threats. This time, the comments did have the intended effect in that they created a great deal of anxiety and a sense of panic set in.