(Or “There Are No Sunglasses”)
Another false narrative our IC is fond of running on the people they intend to drive insane, to violence or suicide, to discredit is the phony recruitment narrative. I first learned of this phenomenon from my friend Stuart (the same one who handed me a copy of Blindsight which ensured my involvement with Squidgate). I say it again, this is brainhacking. Stuart is not an operative. The mere suggestion is preposterous. (Which is why I say the same about the majority of strangers, police, firemen, etc. who harass TIs. An interesting note about, for example, California law is that in order for a someone involved in a harassment or stalking conspiracy to be prosecuted for it, they must be aware of the purpose. This electronic and other mind control stuff throws that right out the window).
Stu said that the Internet rumor was that NSA recruit agents by driving them so insane that absolutely nobody will have anything to do with them. At the end, the TI knows that they have been “hired” when they receive a box with chalk and a pair of sunglasses in it.
Even as harassed and drugged and confused as I was (this must have been February 2010) I knew that was bulls***. The purpose of that disinformation is to try to coax the TI into not disclosing what has been done to them or that if they do, they will be considered bona fide bonkers. Hilariously, I also found a link to an article from some place (Boing Boing?) soon after about how NSA actually recruits from MIT, etc. by invite and presentations.
Balding’s and that nurse’s appearance at my doctor’s appointment in January 2010 also pointed to this false recruitment narrative. As a fallback position, they could try to get me to hold back information thinking I was actually recruited to help, maybe not complain, which buys them more time for covering up their brazen illegalities.
As I said, I sort of went along with this at times. My encounter with former Navy man Ed Vogel when I went to take part in a film in the Summer of 2010 was an example of that. I thought maybe I’d learn something. (I did. That they wanted me to kill T. Ryder Smith. This was echoed later by my ex, Jim, when he came to visit later in ’10).
Then there was the night that my friends in Minneapolis (whom I could often take or leave and frequently did the latter) ran into a group of people they seemed to know well. It turned out they had only just met them on a boat two weeks previous. When I asked the new arrivals how they knew my friends, they failed to mention that. This immediately made me suspicious.
Then there was what they did for a living. The male (a late twenty something of Indian–the country–descent with light blue eye contacts) was a psychologist specializing in sexual abuse. The female, a blond, was also a psychologist, specializing in substance abuse.
I made a joke, asking if they wanted to be famous. The young blond woman decided to pursue this. The strange thing about the conversation was that I volunteered almost nothing. She made all of the statements and I pretended to agree (really I am sad because I think that must have been my best acting ever and it is not so far as I know preserved in any way. But then being driven mostly out of your mind may tend to stretch your abilities in that regard).
She went off on the, “It’s okay, my father was in the CIA, too,” and the tooth implant disinformation narrative. As a matter of fact, I did have a root canal at some point. That tooth fell out in 2009. I never thought it contained anything but a filling though. I mentioned avoiding the dentist and fear of implants being the reason (I assure you it isn’t. Who likes going to the dentist besides Jack Nicholson’s and Bill Murray’s character in Little Shop? I am not a masochist.) There is no reason to have those implants that I can see. Satellites and the electronic toys take care of all of that. (If any TIs have had that sensation, keep in mind that there are both the planting of the idea in your head and probably some kind of electronic harassment that might make you think so. I didn’t have that happen, but I can imagine it easily enough).
So after she offered up all of that, I added that Baer was probably the only reason I was still alive. I might have actually believed that at the time. That strangeness regarding the finger bit in Syriana and his appearance on Real Time in January of ’10 or so was rather mindf***y. (I had a finger crushed at the New Jersey Shakespeare Festival. Finding the episode to re-watch it was difficult last time I checked:
But now that I understand just how well the brainhacking tech works, that’s as good an explanation as any.
What the psychologist didn’t know was that later that same evening at the same bar (Bar 19), while she was telling her friend that I was completely insane is that I was sitting not ten or fifteen feet away in the dark. That did make me angry, but by the time I was at home in bed complaining aloud to that deva my friends had nicknamed Pocahontas (and sometimes Ms. Pan Am or Sacajawea) I recalled that I was pulling her leg and had actually accomplished that. Not much of a win though, is it? My cute-hinder-sometimes-bed-companion was drunk and I think he had no idea what I was going on about.
I don’t think that the psychologist was a Top Secret America operative (but probably indicative of the caliber of employee), just a bitch with no respect for councilor-patient trust or privacy.
Then there was the whole purpose of burning down Kate Conway’s home in December of 2009 in order to make me think Andrew Beaudry and his family members were responsible in the hopes I would go postal at the Squidgate sentencing hearing.
And, as I’ve mentioned before, many, many keys laid in my path, left in places I frequented both in NYC and Minneapolis. Some were vehicles, some door keys, and others things like airport and bus station lockers. These people wanted badly to provoke me or frame me into an act or terror or violence or failing that, drive me to suicide. (For that last part, this past week plus has been the longest, most persistent attempt for that. Yet I’m still here.)
So it came as little surprise when I saw what (again, remember that they can pop ideas into your head, like snap judgements) appeared to be symbols that represented Robert Baer, twenty year CIA veteran, writer of a few books, and sort of the subject of the film Syriana (sort of, because the story was changed from the book considerably for the film).
At the entrance of my Minneapolis apartment building, blood:
Next to a pair of aviators (sort of a CIA thing from photos you see from the 80s):
(Soon after I posted those on Facebook, V2K sent me a recording of a bear roar. No joke).
And so, with one 3-D chess move, they attempt to: 1) convince me that Baer is active and I’m somehow working for him, 2) implicate and discredit Baer by having me write a blog post like this one, 3) get me to relax and pretend that I somehow have some help that I don’t, that there is, by two degrees of separation, some effort by the current administration that differs substantially from the previous ones of the past thirty or so years, and 4) set me on a violent path or get me to blame one set of people over another, essentially anyone but those actually responsible, 5) thumb their nose at anyone who has criticized CIA corruption in the past, and 6) the usual discrediting stuff.
So it was again more recently that, after posting about not being able to be with my son during his surgery while I was in Toronto, I got this text from him later in May:
This sweater is huge. Looks at though it would fit a linebacker.
And it has a shiny bear symbol on the back:
It doesn’t belong to anyone who lives there and it isn’t mine. I also don’t believe Baer or any of his acquaintances put it there. I do believe this is just another psyop, another attempt to discredit and confuse. I don’t think this government-attached-at-the-hip-to-Wall-Street could do the right thing by accident and thinking to do it on purpose just isn’t in its nature.
Additionally, don’t recall where I read it, but actual field operatives are given periodic rests. The stress is too high to not do that. I have had none whatsoever since this began. Not that I needed that piece of information to know it was a lie.