Most people are probably shocked when I say I am an enemy of this evil fascist state. The recent rash of stories in the news about child molesters is actually a good way to explain what I mean by that. The child molester is usually a powerful, respected community member with good job and status whom the child looks up to, respects and probably admires. The child molester uses this vast power advantage to take advantage of the child and thus rapes the child. In some cases, the child molester repeats the acts of violence against the child over a period of years. And what does the child do? Nothing! The child lives in fear of the vastly superior power of the molester and frequently the victim feels that he is to blame for what happened to him even though the victim has done nothing wrong.
In time the victim(s) learns to hate the molester and waits and hopes for the day when the truth can be told and the psychopathic child molester can be made to pay for his crimes against humanity. Of course even when the truth becomes known, the child molester has his supporters and many people refuse to believe that the man that they see as a pillar of virtue and integrity in the community could ever commit such atrocities. And the victims who are now adults have trouble convincing people that they are telling the truth and frequently are themselves attacked by the supporters of the child molester. In cases of accusations against Priests, a powerful institution, the Church, supports the child molester and tries to hide the truth from the general public. But to the victim, the child molester is his enemy and the victim seeks justice.
Now in my case, I was repeatedly mentally, psychologically and emotionally raped for years by people with vastly superior power. These psychopaths believed that by demonstrating their vast, ubiquitous power, they could terrorize me into silence just as the molested child remains silence out of fear. But in my case, I was an educated, intelligent adult who had a strong sense of integrity, values and morals. That is a big difference between the child victim of a molester and an adult victim of molesters. And I am sure this came as a great surprise to my molester given the general level of decadence of the amerikan people and given the contempt for working class people that my molesters have. Despite the vast power of the evil fascist state, I was determined to warn the people of the true nature of the ruling elite of this country. And of course, over time I came to hate what these people stand for and they became my enemy.
Given the conditioned, indoctrinated state of most amerikans, this is a shocking statement. And to some neo-Nazis, I am sure their reaction is outrage. But to the victims of the sick, psychopathic rapists, there is a rage, an anger, a frustration that drives victims to have the truth be known. The molesters on the other hand, continue to put on a suit, a name badge and go to work in a government or corporate office, where people treat them as respected members of the community. Most co-workers, family members and friends never know about the sick acts these psychopaths commit. But rest assured, out there somewhere are their victims, waiting for the opportunity to come forward and reveal the truth about these psychopaths and the institutions that support them. Just a the child victims have come forth some twenty, thirty of more years later.
The answer to the question at the top of the page is both 1)are extreme abusers of power, 2)are psychopaths, 3)destroy human life or the quality of life 4)are the personification of evil.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
End of my life that once existed.
Several days before I was to start my new job in Kentucky, I packed all of my belongings into my car. I had to sell my large guitar amplifier and my stereo speakers because I had no room for them. I point that out because the stereo speakers would play a significant role in proving how closely the Nazi Gestapo stalked me at all times.
As I was preparing to leave Scranton, I was closing the trunk to my car when my mother came out to say good-bye. As she approached me I asked her "where is my target rifle that father hid?" My mother started crying and said, "he won't give it to you. I argued with him about it, but he said no."
I didn't want the rifle because I knew the Crazies were still trying to paint me as a violent person and if I didn't have any weapons, I foolishly thought that it would be pretty hard to make that lie stick. I was just testing to see who my parents would support. Just the knowledge that my parents, at least my father, would buy into the Crazies plan made me feel sick. My father who was at home, wouldn't even show his face so I said good-bye to my mother, got in my car and headed for Kentucky. THAT WAS THE LAST TIME I WOULD EVER SEE MY PARENTS AND I ONLY EVER TALKED TO THEM ONE OTHER TIME. My father died about 10 years later and my mother lived another 28 years.
At that point the evil Nazi state and its sick gestapo agents had destroyed EVERYTHING that had existed in my life six years earlier when I took my position with Gamma Supplies. I knew I would never be going back home because no one wants the sick Naze bastards in their life and wherever I go the Nazi scumbags are close behind. And I will never, and I mean never forgive this sick, evil fascist state and the sub-human scum that ordered the destruction of my life. I have often thought about what I would do if I were given gun and put in a room with the man who ordered the destruction of my life. At first I would think that I wouldn't want to lower myself to his or her level and shoot him. But on the second thought, I decided that anyone who destroys human life for fun, money and power, doesn't deserve to live. I would kill him or her just to make sure they never destroyed another human life.
My arrival and introduction to Paducah was ominous. The evening before I arrived in the city, there was a major snow storm that left several inches of snow on the ground. I didn't know it at the time, but in Kentucky, there is basically no snow removal equipment and the snow is left on the roads until mother nature and warmer temperatures remove it. This means that at intersection and stop lights, the snow get packed down, partially melts and then freezes at night into a sheet of ice. As I approached an intersection in early morning, the light turned red. I put my foot on the brake, but instead of stopping, I continued to slid past the light into the intersection. Since I saw a car on my left start to proceed, I started honking my horn frantically to let the driver know I couldn't stop. Apparently the driver decided he could beat me through the intersection and he actually accelerated. Unfortunately, he didn't make it and I hit him broadside. There was no damage to my car, but the other car had some serious damage to the back half. Such was my introduction to Paducah.
As I was preparing to leave Scranton, I was closing the trunk to my car when my mother came out to say good-bye. As she approached me I asked her "where is my target rifle that father hid?" My mother started crying and said, "he won't give it to you. I argued with him about it, but he said no."
I didn't want the rifle because I knew the Crazies were still trying to paint me as a violent person and if I didn't have any weapons, I foolishly thought that it would be pretty hard to make that lie stick. I was just testing to see who my parents would support. Just the knowledge that my parents, at least my father, would buy into the Crazies plan made me feel sick. My father who was at home, wouldn't even show his face so I said good-bye to my mother, got in my car and headed for Kentucky. THAT WAS THE LAST TIME I WOULD EVER SEE MY PARENTS AND I ONLY EVER TALKED TO THEM ONE OTHER TIME. My father died about 10 years later and my mother lived another 28 years.
At that point the evil Nazi state and its sick gestapo agents had destroyed EVERYTHING that had existed in my life six years earlier when I took my position with Gamma Supplies. I knew I would never be going back home because no one wants the sick Naze bastards in their life and wherever I go the Nazi scumbags are close behind. And I will never, and I mean never forgive this sick, evil fascist state and the sub-human scum that ordered the destruction of my life. I have often thought about what I would do if I were given gun and put in a room with the man who ordered the destruction of my life. At first I would think that I wouldn't want to lower myself to his or her level and shoot him. But on the second thought, I decided that anyone who destroys human life for fun, money and power, doesn't deserve to live. I would kill him or her just to make sure they never destroyed another human life.
My arrival and introduction to Paducah was ominous. The evening before I arrived in the city, there was a major snow storm that left several inches of snow on the ground. I didn't know it at the time, but in Kentucky, there is basically no snow removal equipment and the snow is left on the roads until mother nature and warmer temperatures remove it. This means that at intersection and stop lights, the snow get packed down, partially melts and then freezes at night into a sheet of ice. As I approached an intersection in early morning, the light turned red. I put my foot on the brake, but instead of stopping, I continued to slid past the light into the intersection. Since I saw a car on my left start to proceed, I started honking my horn frantically to let the driver know I couldn't stop. Apparently the driver decided he could beat me through the intersection and he actually accelerated. Unfortunately, he didn't make it and I hit him broadside. There was no damage to my car, but the other car had some serious damage to the back half. Such was my introduction to Paducah.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Merry Christmas from the Satanic State.
Well, Merry Christmas. If you have read my blog from the beginning you will know that this is not a good time of the year for me. The Crazies find the holiday season a good time to get rid of their enemies - and after years of brutal torture, I am an enemy of the sick fascist state. For years, every Christmas the God Damned sick ruling fascists would make my life hell and try to drive me to committ suicide and get rid of me. I learned that getting rid of your enemies during the holidays is a good thing because most dumb amerikans are too busy spending money and partying to notice anything. The disappearing victim isn't even missed. Now if that isn't ruling fascist contempt for the working class, I don't know what is. And that alone is enough to make me convert to some non-Christian religion so I don't have to deal with Christmas.
Back to my story:
Several days after my conversations with Dr. Skora about the Estron Chemical position, I received a letter from him stating that I would be paid thirty thousand dollars a year plus a bonus which would be given at Dr. Skora's discretion at the end of one year. Then I read the real surprise in the letter; my job title would be "Technical Director"! When I read that, I no longer had any doubts about the government's involvement in the offer.
I accepted Dr. Skora's and the Estron Chemical offer despite the fact that I knew the job was set up by The Crazies. I could not afford another semester of college to get teacher certification, my Social Security benefits were up for review and my situation at my parent's house was intolerable. The "choice" was to accept the job or face the strong possibility of having no income and no future. I did not want that job, but I had to take it. It was a classic "psychological double bind (no win situation) which is believed to be a major contributor to schitzophenic behavior. And I never forgot that my very first day at work at Gamma Supplies, Darth Korey set up a "psychological double bind" for me. That is one of the ways I know what The Crazies intentions were from the very beginning.
A starting date of February 6 was given to me by Dr. Skora over my protests. Since I needed money and wanted to get out of my parent's house immediately, I pressed for an earlier starting date, but Dr. Skora was adamant and insisted on the February 6, 1984 starting date.
On the Thursday prior to my departure for Kentucky, I met again with Dr. Skora. This time he gave me a completely new initial assignment which negated all of the preparatory work done in the intervening weeks. The sudden change in my initial assignment bothered me but I accepted it and continued with my plans to leave for my new job at Estron Chemical.
Back to my story:
Several days after my conversations with Dr. Skora about the Estron Chemical position, I received a letter from him stating that I would be paid thirty thousand dollars a year plus a bonus which would be given at Dr. Skora's discretion at the end of one year. Then I read the real surprise in the letter; my job title would be "Technical Director"! When I read that, I no longer had any doubts about the government's involvement in the offer.
I accepted Dr. Skora's and the Estron Chemical offer despite the fact that I knew the job was set up by The Crazies. I could not afford another semester of college to get teacher certification, my Social Security benefits were up for review and my situation at my parent's house was intolerable. The "choice" was to accept the job or face the strong possibility of having no income and no future. I did not want that job, but I had to take it. It was a classic "psychological double bind (no win situation) which is believed to be a major contributor to schitzophenic behavior. And I never forgot that my very first day at work at Gamma Supplies, Darth Korey set up a "psychological double bind" for me. That is one of the ways I know what The Crazies intentions were from the very beginning.
A starting date of February 6 was given to me by Dr. Skora over my protests. Since I needed money and wanted to get out of my parent's house immediately, I pressed for an earlier starting date, but Dr. Skora was adamant and insisted on the February 6, 1984 starting date.
On the Thursday prior to my departure for Kentucky, I met again with Dr. Skora. This time he gave me a completely new initial assignment which negated all of the preparatory work done in the intervening weeks. The sudden change in my initial assignment bothered me but I accepted it and continued with my plans to leave for my new job at Estron Chemical.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
No taxes increases???????????????
Just a quick note. Noticed that the Greedy Obnoxious People (GOP) want to raise taxes on the middle working class. What happened to their pledge of no taxe increases? I guess that only applies to the ruling fascist elite.
Saw a good suggestion the other day. Apparently the income of the elite 1% is on the average, 36 times the median income of the other 99%(a historical high). The suggestion was to tie any future tax breaks to be designed to keep that ratio at 36 to 1 or less. In other words, the elite can make all the money they want as long as the income of the peons is raised to keep the ratio at 36 to 1. In other words make sure that any increase to the already wealthy does indeed "trickle down". Or a rising tide raises ALL ships. Ingeneous idea.
Saw a good suggestion the other day. Apparently the income of the elite 1% is on the average, 36 times the median income of the other 99%(a historical high). The suggestion was to tie any future tax breaks to be designed to keep that ratio at 36 to 1 or less. In other words, the elite can make all the money they want as long as the income of the peons is raised to keep the ratio at 36 to 1. In other words make sure that any increase to the already wealthy does indeed "trickle down". Or a rising tide raises ALL ships. Ingeneous idea.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
The Invisible Prison
The reason I say I was being forced to take the job is that I had no realistic options. My SS Disability claim was up for review the next month and I knew the government could disallow my claim on the whim of The Crazies. Refusal to allow my claim would result in the loss of my only income, and I knew the government had no qualms about starving me to death. I did not have enough money to complete my second semester for teacher certification, and even if I did decide to continue the college courses, I would still need the disability income until I could get a teaching position in the fall. Thus, the only alternative which offered immediate economic survival was the Kentucky job with Estron Chemical.
The above, coupled with the fact that I never received any correspondence from the countries I had contact with at the UN meant that I had no alternatives. Of course, I didn’t fully appreciated how much the government was censoring my mail. I did contact one country’s UN Mission by phone and they assured me that they had sent an information packet to me with all the necessary papers to travel to their country. Of course, I never received that information. Almost a year later I received more conformation about how much my mail was being censored and how that censorship of my mail played a role in their ultimate roll of getting rid of me by exile.
A couple of years later I learned that the practice of totaling controlling your life and forcing certain courses of action were standard operating procedures by the ruling fascists. A Romanian defector who came to this country was betrayed by the CIA once he was in this country. The defector and victim described the practice this way; “So long as they (The Crazies) consider you a person without choice, they don’t respect you. They have you in their power. They can kill you softly.” That was what the government was doing to me. They were killing me quietly by forcing me to take life coursed that they laid out for me. This was not news to me, but this job situation graphically illustrates how the process works. And when one is aware that he or she is being coerced into a non-desirable course of action, the emotional and psychological stress is enormous.
Stalin’s daughter when she left the United States to return to Russia in the mid 1980s stated that she HAD NEVER BEEN FREE FOR A MOMENT while in this country. She claimed the CIA (in her statement on TV she initially referred mistakenly to the KGB – an apt comparison) controlled and manipulated everything she did. She even stated that the book she had written had been edited and rewritten by the CIA to make it politically correct. Most brainwashed, indoctrinated amerikans can never understand the significance of her words, but I could only empathize with her.
Some time later, I was having an honest conversation with a church minister when he remarked "Your life must be hell! You are in a prison, but you can't see the bars." It is the best description I've ever heard to describe the life of a political victim in this fascist society.
The above, coupled with the fact that I never received any correspondence from the countries I had contact with at the UN meant that I had no alternatives. Of course, I didn’t fully appreciated how much the government was censoring my mail. I did contact one country’s UN Mission by phone and they assured me that they had sent an information packet to me with all the necessary papers to travel to their country. Of course, I never received that information. Almost a year later I received more conformation about how much my mail was being censored and how that censorship of my mail played a role in their ultimate roll of getting rid of me by exile.
A couple of years later I learned that the practice of totaling controlling your life and forcing certain courses of action were standard operating procedures by the ruling fascists. A Romanian defector who came to this country was betrayed by the CIA once he was in this country. The defector and victim described the practice this way; “So long as they (The Crazies) consider you a person without choice, they don’t respect you. They have you in their power. They can kill you softly.” That was what the government was doing to me. They were killing me quietly by forcing me to take life coursed that they laid out for me. This was not news to me, but this job situation graphically illustrates how the process works. And when one is aware that he or she is being coerced into a non-desirable course of action, the emotional and psychological stress is enormous.
Stalin’s daughter when she left the United States to return to Russia in the mid 1980s stated that she HAD NEVER BEEN FREE FOR A MOMENT while in this country. She claimed the CIA (in her statement on TV she initially referred mistakenly to the KGB – an apt comparison) controlled and manipulated everything she did. She even stated that the book she had written had been edited and rewritten by the CIA to make it politically correct. Most brainwashed, indoctrinated amerikans can never understand the significance of her words, but I could only empathize with her.
Some time later, I was having an honest conversation with a church minister when he remarked "Your life must be hell! You are in a prison, but you can't see the bars." It is the best description I've ever heard to describe the life of a political victim in this fascist society.
Monday, December 5, 2011
A new type of prison
Dr. Skora suggested that I go to Calvin City where the plant was located after the New Year Holiday. I would visit the facility, meet the people there and get a quick tour of the area. After I returned from my visit to the Calvin City plant, I would come back to Newark and discuss work projects in more detail. He also suggested the we would then discuss the details of a bonus plan which would be part of my salary. He always talked as if my accepting his position was predetermined and that I had no choice. Again a major consideration in The Crazies picking me for a victim was that I came from a poor family and poor people are slaves - they have no choices.
The first week of January, I took the trip to the Calvin City plant. I flew into Paducah, stayed overnight at a motel and then the next morning I was picked up by the plant manager, Herb. He drove to the plant which was located some twenty five miles away.
The minute I walked into the laboratory located adjacent to the plant, my heart sank. The laboratory consisted on one medium size room in a building which also housed the plant offices. There was an adjacent office for a laboratory worker. Herb's office and a small reception area which served the office for Herb's wife, Marge. The entire building was in poor condition and most of the place did not appear like it had been used in years. The only equipment present in the laboratory was a gas chromatograph and two small balances (scales). All of the items were of 1960 vintage. In fact, the balances were so outdated that I had seen those models in antique shops and I had last used one like them when I was in undergraduate school in 1962! It was hard to hide my disillusionment as I talked to Herb and Marge.
The technical knology of the Hafers was not more up-to-date than the equipment. They had worked at the plant when it had been owned by large corporations and they had stayed on as part owners when the last corporation had pulled out in the nineteen seventies. At that time, Marge and Herb apparently had gone into semi-retirement and they had operated the plant as a mom and pop operation until they ran into financial difficulties. That is when Stanley Skora entered the picture and bought controlling interest. In the years that the plant was a "mom and pop" operation, the plant, laboratory and mom and pop had stagnated.
The level of Marge's and Herb's technical knowledge was exemplified when I questioned them about the one major product they made at the plant. They described the process to me except for the "secret catalyst" used in making the product. From the nature of the process, I concluded that the "secret catalyst" must be what chemists call a "phase transfer agent" and I narrowed the choice from that group of materials down to the two most probable ones. Later, after I began working there, I learned that the "secret catalyst" was indeed one of the two materials that I had surmised. My deduction of the exact catalyst was no stroke of genius but rater it was a conclusion based on common current knowledge. But, because Marge and Herb had been in semi-retirement, they thought their process secret ingredient was state-of-the-art technology.
After a tour of the plant, I returned to my motel room. I sat on the bed and reflected on what I had just seen and started to cry. After surviving eight years of brutal torture, I was being coerced in to taking a job in an antiquated plant and laboratory that involved handling highly toxic chemicals in an unsafe environment. I would also be technically isolated since I would have no professional peers with which to interact. And I would be essentially isolated physically since I would be the only person working in the laboratory.
The first week of January, I took the trip to the Calvin City plant. I flew into Paducah, stayed overnight at a motel and then the next morning I was picked up by the plant manager, Herb. He drove to the plant which was located some twenty five miles away.
The minute I walked into the laboratory located adjacent to the plant, my heart sank. The laboratory consisted on one medium size room in a building which also housed the plant offices. There was an adjacent office for a laboratory worker. Herb's office and a small reception area which served the office for Herb's wife, Marge. The entire building was in poor condition and most of the place did not appear like it had been used in years. The only equipment present in the laboratory was a gas chromatograph and two small balances (scales). All of the items were of 1960 vintage. In fact, the balances were so outdated that I had seen those models in antique shops and I had last used one like them when I was in undergraduate school in 1962! It was hard to hide my disillusionment as I talked to Herb and Marge.
The technical knology of the Hafers was not more up-to-date than the equipment. They had worked at the plant when it had been owned by large corporations and they had stayed on as part owners when the last corporation had pulled out in the nineteen seventies. At that time, Marge and Herb apparently had gone into semi-retirement and they had operated the plant as a mom and pop operation until they ran into financial difficulties. That is when Stanley Skora entered the picture and bought controlling interest. In the years that the plant was a "mom and pop" operation, the plant, laboratory and mom and pop had stagnated.
The level of Marge's and Herb's technical knowledge was exemplified when I questioned them about the one major product they made at the plant. They described the process to me except for the "secret catalyst" used in making the product. From the nature of the process, I concluded that the "secret catalyst" must be what chemists call a "phase transfer agent" and I narrowed the choice from that group of materials down to the two most probable ones. Later, after I began working there, I learned that the "secret catalyst" was indeed one of the two materials that I had surmised. My deduction of the exact catalyst was no stroke of genius but rater it was a conclusion based on common current knowledge. But, because Marge and Herb had been in semi-retirement, they thought their process secret ingredient was state-of-the-art technology.
After a tour of the plant, I returned to my motel room. I sat on the bed and reflected on what I had just seen and started to cry. After surviving eight years of brutal torture, I was being coerced in to taking a job in an antiquated plant and laboratory that involved handling highly toxic chemicals in an unsafe environment. I would also be technically isolated since I would have no professional peers with which to interact. And I would be essentially isolated physically since I would be the only person working in the laboratory.
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