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".