How Evil works through the Nazi Empire.

After I started seeing Dr. Iron, the harassing events at work began to lessen and my thoughts to leave RAM abated. However, my thoughts never deviated from preparing for the inev inevitable loss of my job or perhaps my life. My foremost thought was to protect Anita. I believed it was important that she be prepared to go out on her own, and therefore she needed a better occupation than that of a bank teller/accountant. Since Anita had always been interested in being a nurse, we made plans for her to start attending full time a local community college. Since the program was a two year study,she could be working in a good profession in a reasonable amount of time. I too decided to take a course in accounting in an attempt to prepare for another career when my career as a chemist was terminated. All our efforts were designed to counteract all of the destructive actions which were being carried out against me.

In late August, I received a phone call from a worker in the trafficking department at RAM. He informed me that I had to fill out some forms to collect my moving expenses incurred a year earlier. When I previously tried to get my money, I encountered so many roadblocks that I had just given up all hope of ever getting the money. I knew it was just another way "they" could frustrate me. Now a year later, the trafficking department couldn't carry the account any longer on the books and they had to pay me. In other words, "they" had held the money as long as the system would allow and now I would be paid. The maximum hardship and frustration had been attained. I told the man to send me the forms and a couple of days later they arrived in the mail.

I told Anita that we would be getting several hundred dollars back for the damage done to our furniture. Both of us were happy and I remarked, "This is the first positive thing that has happened to us in over a year. I can't believe it. We will have some extra money for a change."

My positive feelings did not last long. Two days later I kissed my wife goodbye in the garage as she left for work. I went back into the house and started up the stairs when I heard a crash. I rushed back down the stairs and into the garage in time to see Anita standing there looking at the door. I immediately saw the car door was crumbled and as calmly as I could, asked, "What happened?!"

I forgot to close the car door as I was backing out of the garage and I hit the garage support." she said.

I looked at the door and saw the damage was extensive.

"Well, if we're lucky, all that will have to be done is the door will have to be replaced."

I drove Anita to work. As we drove, I talked about what had to be done.

"I'll take a vacation day from work today and take the car in to get an estimate, and then I will inform the insurance company." I said. I was assuming the car was still driveable.

Anita sat there and cried. Since we had a large deductible insurance on the car, the money we were going to receive from RAM was gone. There would be no extra money.

It is interesting to note that once the evil Nazis took over my life, a very negative force, an evil force entered my life. I had always been a fortunate, even a lucky person where things in my life always went smoothly and positively up until the Nazis entered. At that point, it seemed like some evil force, a dark cloud took over my life. It was that evil negativity that I could sense or feel at Gamma Supplies. And my life has never been the same since. The Bible says that this empire receives its "throne, power and authority from the Great Dragon, Satan", and I have found nothing to refute that.

Another therapist (The Rapist) living in La, La Land

My mental state was deterioring rapidly again as a result of the constant mental torture I was being subjected to at work. I desperately needed someone I could talk to without getting the answer that I was just imagining everything and that I was mentally ill. I decided to go talk to the minister of the church that Anita and I attended. I foolishly told Anita of my plan.

By now a strange thing had happened in my relationship with Anita. I trusted her again which was probably out of necessity. I began to rationalize all the things that had happened that had involved her. More importantly, she became my confidant again, and I told her things that I shouldn't have because my Nazi torturers could use the information against me. But I was so anxious that I freely talked to her. Still, I wanted someone else I could use as a sounding board.

My conversation with my minister was normal and there were no surprises. He said he could not help me and suggested I seek professional councilling. Through him, I obtained the name and address of a psychiatrist to visit. I went home and then told Anita all that had transpired which meant that "they" would know exactly what I was doing and who I was going to go see.

I started seeing Dr. Iron in July, 1979. Dr. Iron was an elderly gentleman who lived alone in a large old house in the country outside of Georgeville, NY. He had practiced psychiatry in New York City for several years and was now in the process of transferring his practice to his suburban home. In contrast to the doctors I had previously talked to, I found Dr. Steel to be very well rounded in his experiences, and I found him to be mentally alert. It became readily apparent that he was used to winning arguments with his patients. Although I had great respect for him as a person, I found him to be of little help in discussing my problems. The best indication that he would be no help to me came when after I gave him a brief synopsis of my situation he proclaimed,Now Russ, big business doesn't do things like that!" I knew at that point that Dr. Iron could never really help me or that he wouldn't really try to help me. He did prescribe Haldol, an antipsychotic agent to help me cope with my anxiety. Other than that, he was useless.

What is really interesting about Dr. Iron is that he is Jewish and had fled the original Nazi empire and changed his name. I am a little surprised that he didn't tell me to flee this Nazi empire as subsequent psychiatrists would do.

Fate hands me proof of conspiracy - but the Nazis wouldn't care.

I returned to work on Monday to the same environment. I was beginning to believe my situation was hopeless and that no one would ever believe what had happened and what was still happening. There was no way I could ever stop the senseless destruction in my life, but the one sense of victory that I could have was the ability to relate what had been done in such a convincing manner that no one would doubt me. But I was beginning to believe that was a lost cause too. Who would ever believe that what was happening to me at RAM was related to a trial rigging at Gamma Supplies and how would I ever remember all the evidence after several years? And it really did seem insane that my coworkers were conspiring and acting out scenarios just to make look and act insane. And of course, my truly insane captors really believed they could drive me insane. The time, effort and cost was so great, it did not seem like I could succeed. If I had these doubts, who would ever believe me?

Just when I was beginning to loose the battle, fate gave me some much needed proof. One day as I was exiting the laboratory, I stepped into the hallway and heard two people talking in an office diagonally across from where I was standing. I could not see who was talking and they could not see me as I paused to hear;
You know, the guys are getting a little tired of this thing with Russ, and all the things we have to do to him. I was too anxious to see who was talking to listen more. I walked in front of the office doorway in time to see a co-worker and my former manager Gene Leski. The co-worker stopped talking immediately, and they both just stared at me. I hesitated and then went on my way. I was elated. My co-workers were getting tired of having to constantly harassing me and at least on of them was complaining to management. For a brief moment, I had hope. Indirectly, I had someone else trying to stop the torture of me. Not only that but I had proof that there was a conspiracy agains me. It was not my imagination.

Several minutes later I returned to the office. Since Gene was gone, I approached the co-worker and asked him an innocuous question. He turned bright red and answered in a very nervous manner. He knew I had overheard his remark. I left his office feeling relieved because no one could now doubt my claim that I was being harassed. On the other hand, it meant that "they" would only be happy if they did drive me insane. The only course they and their twisted minds could pursue was to totally destroy me.

What to do to avoid psychopathic Nazi torture.

On Friday evening we drove to my parent's place. I explained to my parents what I was considering, and they immediately discouraged me because there were no good jobs available in the Scranton area. I knew that would be used as an argument for my staying at RAM, and I knew my parents would never understand the price I was paying for trying to hold on to my job at RAM. Perhaps the strongest argument for staying at RAM was that I couldn't be sure anything would be different for me in Scranton. I was meeting strong resistance to my plan to leave RAM.

The following evening my sister, Anita and I went to a fireworks display at a local resort. As we drove, my sister started telling me about an experience she had told me about previously. When she described the experience she used almost exactly the same words she had used before. I immediately became suspicious and started to feel anxious. The "instant replay" technique had been used so often at Gamma Supplies that I could no longer tell if the story my sister was repeating was just a coincidence or whether it was planned. Was it a circle or an oblong? I knew my wife had been used against me, why wouldn't the fascist rulers use my sister? We continued on our way but my anxiety level was rising and didn't enjoy the fireworks display that night.

The next morning I was up early and I went to the kitchen and talked to my mother. She was concerned and wanted to be helpful.

"Did you ever think of going to the police?" she asked.

"It wouldn't do any good." I replied. "These people are above the law."

"Well, you know I had an uncle once who just disappeared." she continued. "To this day no one knows where he is."

"Thanks for the help mom," was all I could reply. In hindsight it is interesting that she was suggesting that I abandon Anita. She seemed to know that I couldn't trust Anita.

"Do you think Anita could stay here if I go back? I really don't know what is going to happen and I worry about her." I continued.

I was concerned about my own rage, and I also remembered that Anita had been with me when the car tampering incident had occurred. My mother said it would be fine if Anita stayed behind in Scranton.

Anita got up late as she usually did. We then went for a walk through the woods with Nuisance, our dog as we frequently did when we wanted to talk. I explained that I had no idea what was going to happen to me and maybe it would be best that she forget about her job and stay at my parents house. Anita just broke down and started crying. Finally after a lengthy discussion, Anita decided to back home with me no matter what happened. That Sunday evening, we headed home and I was headed back to RAM.

Create strong emotions by design.

My displeasure with Osama was again increasing. Suddenly, Osama acted as if he were some sort of elite person. He never worked in the laboratory, in my presence, and he made frequent derogatory remarks to me about the fact that I worked in the laboratory. In mid 1979, Osama started acting and talking as if he were the manager of the department. No longer did my new manager, Pat Clover (a male) give me information, but now all information came to me through Osama. This technique wa similar to the Darth Korey/Jay Wells pattern which had been set up at Gamma Supplies. In additon, Osama started the habit of marching through the laboratory at exactly nine A. M., eleven A. M., one P. M., and three P. M. everyday as if he were a military commander inspecting the troops. His behavior was very irritating, and I assumed his actions were designed and orchestrated to create those
feelings. Unlike a normal situation where coworkers would ordinarily comment on his unusual behavior, no one said a word. This confirmed that his actions were planned.

Despite the fact that I knew his actions were meant to provoke, they still caused extreme anger. Finally one day after his march through the laboratory, I said to a co-worker standing in the laboratory, "If he marches through here one more time like that, I'm going to punch his lights out." At the next scheduled march through the laboratory, Osama came around the corner, saw me standing in his way and quickly reversed his direction. That was the last time he marched through the laboratory. His actions, like so many of the previous irritating incidences ceased. It was the same technique that had been used so frequently at Gamma Supplies. "They" orchestrated and action to evoke a strong emotional response, and then once the response was obtained, the action ceased. Getting my emotions the run out of control was all part of the overall plan to create mental illness. It seemed like the sickos wouldn't be happy until they had made me as sick as they already were.

By mid June I could not take being tormented anymore. One evening I was standing in the bedroom yelling at my wife. I was screaming, "I can't believe they are so insane. They will keep on tormenting me until I really believe I'm crazy or the do drive me totally insane. They don't care and there is no way to stop them. I can't take it anymore! I have to have some peace of mind. I don't care about you, this house or anything other than having some peace. I'm just going to give up everything and return to Scranton.

Anita sat there with a blank look on her face. What could she do?! She was part of the problem, and we both knew it.

"Will you wait until this weekend?" she asked.

I was still screaming. "Of course I will. I have to talk to my parents first."

That night I got a phone call in the middle of the night, and when I answered the phone no one was there - just the usual dial tone. The next morning I was so angry at all of the annoying phone calls that I ripped the phone out of the wall. I now lived in a constant state of rage, and I was afraid I might hurt someone. I had to get away.

NOTE: This past week I read where a disgruntled worker went into the work place and shot up the place and killed three people. His only mistake was he didn't kill ruling fascists. I do not believe in nor advocate violence as a solution to most problems, but one regret I have to his day is that I didn't take a gun and go into Gamma Supplies and kill Darth Korey, Jay Wells and several other members of the management team. Knowing thirty plus years later what the insane fascist rulers had planned for me and now knowing what a joke the american justice system is, the final solution was probably the best one. Darth Korey would never have had another opportunity to spread his evil, the lawsuit would have become a mess and secondary, and the fascists rulers would have been sent a strong message that their insanity would not be tolerated. I truly regret not having done that because in hindsight it probably was the best solution for me. I still believe in nonviolence as the best course of action, but when faced with insane captors like I faced, I know of no other way to resolve the situation.

Tribal techniques used in Corporate America.

Soon after the "high" period, the harassment increased to generate a low. On one occasion I walked up to Hun Wong, a scientist from a sister research group and asked him a question. Hun just ignored me. I Thought that he hadn't heard me, and I repeated the question. Again Hun ignored me. This time I positioned myself directly in front of Hun so he was looking right at me, and in a loud voice I repeated the question. Again I got the same response. I started yelling trying to get any response from him, but Hun never acknowledged my presence. I walked away feeling totally frustrated and angery. If I had any thoughts that Hun's actions were of his own volition, those those thoughts were quickly removed when an identical incident occurred with another coworker.

I is ironic that I learned several years later in an RAM professional development course that some African tribes us non-communication as a form of punishment. If a tribe member commits a serious crime, no one will talk to the criminal, and eventually he goes insane, leaves the tribe and in many cases, kills himself. I found it ironic that in the so-called civilized corporate world the same technique was being used to make me mentally ill.

As with many of the torture techniques used on me, I would confirm my beliefs and reactions by testing the technique out on someone else. In this case, I used Anita as the victim. We were riding in the car when she started a conversation and asked a question. I ignored her. She did as I had done in that situation, she move over towards me and repeated the question. Again I ignored her. Now she was screaming the question at me in a hope to get a response. Again I ignored her. She became angery, agitated and didn't know what to do. I quickly put an end to her frustration by explaining why I hadn't answered her and that I wanted to if see her reaction was similar or the same as mine had been. She was not pleased, but it did confirm as usual that the techniques being used on me were designed to generate strong negative emotional reactions and make me "act" crazy.

In April, there was a management change and I was given a performance review by my former manager. I approached the review with great apprehension even though I had done an excellent job on the project I had been working on. In fact, a Senior Engineer and several coworkers had told me that I should have been given at least an inform award for the work I had done in solving a very major problem for the manufacturing site. Part of my anger stemmed from the fact that I was making a major contribution to RAM manufacturing, and I was still receiving such horrendous treatment. As at Gamma Supplies, my treatment in no way related to my job performance. Despite my excellent job performance, I was unsure as to what my performance rating would be. In the insane world I was living in anything was possible if it served to create stress.

My actual review was neither the good rating I felt I deserved, nor the poor rating I feared. But rather, the rating was in the middle of the road evaluation. I was just relieved that on a normal legitimate basis, I was safe for another year. The threat and suggestion made at Gamma Supplies that I would never work again were always in the back of my mind.

Can a totally sick environment create mental illness?

The harassment at work had decreased, but there were still incidences of manipulation and the annoying, harrassing phone calls still continued. I could judge the level of harassment just by the number of annoying phone calls I would get per day. I was actually being conditioned to anticipate increased levels of harassment by the frequency of annoying phone calls. Whenever I started getting an increase in the annoying call at home, I knew I was in for increased harassment at work.

The harassment was being increased in regular cycles and once I became aware of this, I marked items down on a calendar and found that the harassment reached a maximum about every six weeks and then it would decrease. This apparently was to give me the "highs" and "lows" that are so common in manic depression or bipolar mental illness. Once I was aware of this pattern, attempts to cause me "highs" by manipulating my environment only caused me to become more depressed. One of the common techniques used to give me hope and a "high" was to tell me, usually by suggestion, that I was being considered for a management position. Remember, I originally took the job at Gamma Supplies because it was suppose to be a management position. By the spring of 1979, no suggestion about a management position, no matter how direct would not get me up for a period of time. It finally reached the point that the only thing that would give me "high" was the hope that the harassment would stop. Given the fact that at this point in time I had been receiving four or more harassing phone calls every day for over two years, I couldn't see an end to the terrorism.

In April 1979, during an approaching "high" period, my captors made a major mistake. I had calculated on my calendar that I was due for a "high" period, and I was wondering what "they" would do to pick up my spirits. As usual, the level of harassment decreased, and the people I worked with commenced talking with me. That seems like a minor thing, but when your environment is totally controlled to manipulate ones feelings, a person becomes very aware if people communicate with him. But lessening the level of harassment alone was not enough to give me a "high", and my tormentors were obviously aware of this. I was alone working in the laboratory one day when Dick Sawyer came in and we exchanged greetings. Then Dick blurted out, "What's wrong, Russ? You look down. Don't worry; you can forget all that Gamma Supplies stuff now. It's all over."

I was too depressed to react to what he had said, and I just said "Yeah" and went on with my work. I took his comment as an attempt to lift me up. Later, the significance of what he had said finally hit me. I had never told anyone at RAM about the Gamma Supplies stuff, and what what was suppose to be "over" now? The SUGGESTION was that the harassment was over. But Dick's comment was a major mistake. One of the constant arguments that had been used against me to prove I was mentally ill was that there could not possibly be any connection between RAM and Gamma Supplies. Bill was now admitting that he was aware of my Gamma Supplies problems. I had never discussed my Gamma Supplies problems with anyone at RAM and, in fact, I had not even told most of my coworkers where I had worked prior to coming to RAM. If anyone had asked, I would answer that I had worked for a small company in Chicago. I actually felt sorry that Dick had made such a statement because I knew the plan was, and always would be, that I was mentally ill. No other explanation was acceptable.

I will demonstrate in a later BLOG how manipulation of my environment and behavioral conditioning was used to control my reaction to medication. Really! That is, control of my environment could effect my emotional state as if I were reacting to medication I was suppose to be taking. Again, the total control of my environment was used to make me appear to be mentally ill. Unfortunately, my sick, deranged captors actually believed they could convince me that I was mentally ill by controlling my environment and mentally torturing me.