Not everyone said I was Crazy.*

I left Florida on a Tuesday so that I could arrive in Washington, D.C. on a week day. I had decided that if no amerikans would help me, then I should begin to look elsewhere. I drove to South Carolina where I made a stop and then continued on to Washington. I arrived late on a Wednesday, got a room for the night and tried to get a good nights sleep.

The next morning I put on a suit and headed for the Russian Embassy. I entered the lobby of the building and filled out an information card. On the line that asked for the purpose of the visit I put, "I have been brutally tortured by the U.S. Government and would like to seek political asylum." A few minutes later, a man came into the lobby, looked at my card, looked me over from head to toe and then directed me to the Soviet Consulate at 1825 Phelps Place.

I left the Embassy and proceeded to the Soviet Consulate with that uneasy feeling that I was being followed. Upon reaching the Soviet Consulate I parked my car on a nearby street and walked a block to a large old building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. I enter through the gate and proceeded up the steps to the front door. I glanced back to see a motorcycle policeman station at the corner observing me and speaking on his radio microphone. When he saw me glance his way, he quickly tried to conceal the hand held microphone behind his back. I had to laugh at he policeman's clumsy attempt to hide his microphone, but the whole incident reinforced my belief that my every movement was being observed.

I should add that prior to my leaving my condo in Florida, The Crazies had continued the practice of entering my home while I was gone. Just prior to my leaving, I noticed that a piece of paper on which I had written a list of "things to do" had been conspicuously moved as if to let me know The Crazies were watching me. On that list was the item "visit the Russian Embassy".

Once inside the Consulate, I gave the receptionist the card I had filled out at the Embassy and she politely instructed me to have a seat. Several minutes later a conservatively dressed, large man walked into the room and introduced himself. I spoke briefly about my problem with him and ask about the possibility of political asylum in The Soviet Union. To my surprise, the man answered me in a very logical, rational manner. He did not doubt my story for a minute and he did not give me a lot of propaganda or pro Russia talk. Instead he addressed my problem and suggested some alternative communist countries that I might consider because I might be able to adjust to the lifestyles more readily. He repeatedly emphasized that there would be major adjustments to be made if I moved to the Soviet Union. The he told me that perhaps I should take a "vacation" and visit some of those countries he had suggested. Then he gave me the phone number of a travel agency that handled flights to Russia. As I left, I looked at him and said, "You wouldn't believe the abuse to which I've been subjected."

He looked at me reassuringly and calmly said, "I am well aware of what this government does to people."

The he shook my hand and I left the building. I left the Consulate feeling somewhat amazed. The Russians had not treated me like some kind of a nut, but rather they took my problem seriously and offered what help they could. It was no surprise to the Russians that I had been brutally tortured. For the first time in six years I felt I had a chance to end the brutal torture to which I was being subjected to in Nazi amerika. I waived to the policeman as I headed back to my car.

*"In a Totalitarian State, anyone holding a minority view, especially a minority view of one, must be convinced they are crazy." Eric Fromm

Joplin, MO is just a microcosm of the destruction this nation will face - that's a promise made to me!