Am I an Alien?

Am I An Alien?

By

Andrew Ian Murphy

Table of Contents

Chapter one

HOW IT ALL BEGAN………………………………………………………………………………4

Chapter two

THE ALAMEDA INCIDENT……………………………………………………………………...28

Chapter three

AFTER ALAMEDA………………………………………………………………………………...55

Chapter four

THE PROOFS………………………………………………………………………………………70

Chapter five

Included in this chapter is the greatest secret since the atomic bomb, the secret mystery known as ‘Chemtrails’

EXPOSURE……...………………………………………………………………………………...121

Chapter six

MIND CONTROL………………………………………………………………………………...155

Chapter seven

FINAL THOUGHTS……………………………………………………………………………...192

A PROPER INTRODUCTION

In 1999 I ran into a problem with one or more federal agencies, who, over several months, invaded and destroyed my life. When they were gone and I believed matters had been settled, I was left with a nagging feeling that they both, had not left and that they has always been with me. I chalked this sensation up to paranoia caused by the trauma of my experience. The experience itself was very much within the realm of the ordinary world and though it was extreme, I figured it was due simply to circumstance and bad luck. Still, I felt ‘them’ all around me, even my friends from before seemed part of some giant conspiracy.

Upon close objective examination, I observed many small events, which demonstrated a greater and continuing presence of conspirators around me. As I continued to have more and more small undeniable experiences, which evidenced this giant conspiracy, a question raised itself in my mind. Why? There is only so much we can chalk up to ‘bad luck and circumstance’. Many of these experiences I denied and ignored because I couldn’t understand why such a thing would be.

In December of 2000, after some very strange times, I came to the conclusion that I was a ‘Hybrid Alien’. I have tried my best to hold myself back from a mental commitment to this belief, feeling that once I crossed that line, there would truly be no turning back. I denied everything and fought for the reality I had always known. But, at each turn and with every passing day my environment shifted from ‘normal’ to one of total support for what I wished were a lie or a mad delusion. Everywhere I went, I spotted people following me in huge contingencies. Hints were dropped all over, and people became more and more frank with me, going further and further with the assumption that I had accepted this madness as the way things were. My friend Sissy even identified herself to me as a CIA agent in a dead serious discussion. You can’t imagine what such a netherworld is like, to see a giant conspiracy everywhere and be told it's because you are not human. If it were true, then I was a man on a planet of aliens, my family was not my family, every friend I had ever had was simply a spy, and all of my suffering was engineered by those closest to me. It was overwhelming. In January 2001 I moved back to my native Los Angeles, more as a refugee than anything else. I had no real plans and was struck by the need to have verification of reality, one way or another. So in the Spring I began a deep, earnest analysis of the situation. One of the things I did was to outline all of the experiences I had that brought me to this conclusion. The following material is based on the outline I made that spring.

I apologize in advance for any glaring writing errors or the like. I’m not a professional writer so you may be annoyed by my style and method, so I ask you to view this more as a presentation among friends rather than anything else.

I also add one small point of profound significance, the secrets herein contained would have gotten you locked up or even killed for just discussing them only a couple of years ago…

But today, everything in here is declassified material, 100%, I know, I declassified it, and who am I? I am not a powerful big shot, no not at all, however, my posters, and my truth campaign, all designed to pressure the machine, it did not just fail me, or them, or tell a few people the truth, it entered this material into a legal world where a single word sums it all up; PUBLIC DOMAIN. You see, through it all, the government never said one official word about my exposure of their secrets, and after 15,230 posters and leaflets, their silence has permitted it to become public property.  Enjoy your public domain my fellow Americans, and enjoy this book, and remember, if a drop is true, then what of the rest?

Chapter One

HOW IT ALL BEGAN

Well, that is the question you know, I mean, how could this begin? I mean really, how can someone actually believe they are an alien? Not only is it insane, I confess, it is annoying as well, most of you probably want to just punch me in the face for saying it, and I suppose you’d be right. I myself always hated anyone who talked about aliens or for God’s sake, ‘space brothers’, it just made me sick, it’s like come back to the real world already you know? And I think it is really a very cruel irony of fate that it should be I, the realist of all realists who has been cursed to be an alien. So I really hope you’ll forgive me for the absurdity of the premise itself and enjoy the story with an open mind to the stars.

So what happened to me? Well, I did begin my life as a common man, and lived essentially, what would be considered, a common life. Oh, I had my share of the bizarre, and maybe an extra portion or two, but to come to the place where I believe I am an alien, well, even I admit, it’s extreme. I guess it all began in February of 1999, back in Oakland. It was the letters that I had written which brought the feds onto the scene. See, I had lived in this old warehouse loft in East Oakland with some friends of mine. And there had been a lot of trouble at that place, trouble with our evil neighbor, Ruebin. He was a gangster and a problem and I had taken upon myself to solve that problem. So what did I do? Well, what could I do, he was an insane gangster, who one day proudly declared to me that he was going into the illegal gun business and so I did what anyone would do, I moved to a nice little place over in Alameda, a city next door to Oakland. I had been unable to deal with that insane villain, and because I had left, a great power vacuum had opened among the tenants of the warehouse property. I no longer cared, but my friends who still lived there, they were being harassed by evil Ruebin, who now had all kinds of other evil people hanging around, people with guns and nasty shit like that. They were selling dope right out front on the street. And then one day, they broke all of the windows of my friends car. And I will tell you here, if there is one thing you won’t do, it is to hurt my people.

I was naïve in those days, and I thought, it was up to me to save my weak pathetic ‘friends’. And I thought for a long time, what could I do? I could kill Ruebin, but he always carried a gun, and always had people with him, it was a bit tricky. I could probably have gotten away with actually killing him, but then I would have been caught, so that wasn’t really an option. I did feel him out in this way, I approached him a few times to chat, and to test his limits of just how far I might be able to get him alone with me, but it was almost as if he knew what I was thinking, and I swear, the guy was really paranoid of me, but not that he would ever show it, he would just never be alone with me, like I could hurt him, you know? So I thought some more, what could I do, and I thought, well, I suppose I can just go to the cops and file a complaint, but you know, I mean really that is a bit sketchy. I mean it kind of puts your life in jeopardy, people talk in secret and they get your name, and there are just too many ugly stories like that you know. And so I thought and I thought and I thought some more, and then after few weeks of all this thinking figuring and plotting, it was my old friends, the voices in my head, who finally told me what I should do. They told me “Come on Andrew, you’re not thinking right, you’re trying to think like a gangster, but you’re not one. What you are is so much more than these loser scum, forget violence, forget their way, use a different approach, and you will crush them!” Well, it was a really optimistic statement, but I still didn’t know how, and so they told me, “As a regular citizen, you have no duty to protect criminals from the trouble they have brought on themselves, as a regular citizen, who cannot receive protection from the police you are entitled to do anything to stop these villains before they hurt your friends, and that means you are entitled, by everyone’s laws, even the gangsters themselves, to do whatever it takes, and what you will do, is write a letter with no name. And that letter will bring the authorities to Ruebin with a fury in their hearts and vengeance in their minds and he will be lucky to escape with his life.”

An anonymous letter huh? Well, after some discussions with my friends, the voices in my head, I started to think, it might just work. I didn’t know about the ‘crushing’ part, but I certainly thought a few letters to a few select places would offer at the least a ceasesion to the volatile nature of things on the property and at the very least, would protect my good friends from harm. So I set out to write a good letter, and I will tell you that what we produced was no ordinary letter, but something very special. I wanted to just write a basic nothing letter, but the voices, they convinced me to do more, I had to work a lot harder, and in the end it was so incredible, every detail was thought out for optimal perfection, every word, every line, everything and in the end it even had a touch of magic to it. It took us a week to finish, and we spent I don’t know, like a hundred hours discussing everything. It was three in the morning on Thursday, when they gave me the last line, I had been dreaming about the letter and as I slept we discussed it in my dream. I woke with the entire letter completed in my mind and I scrambled in the darkness to write it down on the back of a piece of cardboard I found near my bed. I typed it up and later that morning I got out the phone book and started addressing the first envelopes, the Mayors office, the clerk of the Mayors office and so on. I kept finding really good addresses to mail it to, and finally I ran out of envelopes, I had addressed 47.

I mailed those letters after I showed them to a few friends, and no one seemed too concerned, but I was. I knew what would happen if I mailed them, and it was just too much. You see, the letters were designed by a supernatural force, and in the end, when they were sealed, they had a supernatural quality which I had accidentally put on the envelopes themselves. And when I looked at those letters, I could see the energy that was on them, and it so strong. I know many of you normal readers out there and even many of you skilled in such things, well you guys won’t believe or if you do, you wouldn’t ever believe how strong, you couldn’t, it was impossibly powerful. But fortunately for me and the value of this story, what I have said as to the energy on those envelopes, it is well known by the conspiracy that was so badly burned by their mailing. All the people who worked my case soon found out, that there is a truth to the old theory that each one of us is endowed with something, everyone has something or can do something, it is no theory, it is a law of physics, and my ‘gift’ is to write, especially with a bit of help. The letters were supposed to work this way, they would be sent all over town and everyone who got one would pass them on until the whole office had read them, and then, not knowing what they should do, they would begin calling each other and the energy would just build on itself with a geometric force, until it exploded. The charge on the envelopes guaranteed interest in the contents by anyone who saw them, they would be compelled to examine the document if they were permitted, and the letter itself was designed, so that the readers interest was fixed, and they were compelled to read the entire letter. That was not all though, upon completing the reading of the letter, whomever had read it, they would be left with one inescapable, overpowering thought of, “What if, all that was written was true?” And no matter who they were, no matter how busy they were, and no matter that they didn’t care or want to be involved, they would be compelled to give the letter to one other person and wait for them to read it whereupon they would ask their opinion and what, if anything, they should do.

Six years later, I can tell you, be careful for things that are supposed to explode with geometric force, but at that time, what did I know. How could I know that what I had typed up had been written by an alien force, designed with a Godlike genius? I of course kinda knew, you know, but the voices assured me, don’t worry you are just a regular guy, and well, they didn’t have much to say beyond that, other than to remind me, it was all Ruebins doing, and you must protect your friends, so you must send the letter. And so I did, and when I did, I thought people were watching me, well, actually, people were watching me, and I hesitated until only a few people were on that street where I was going to stick’em in the mail box. I want to say, I think it’s really funny, because I remember the last guy watching me had this funny look on his face, like I was so silly to think that anyone ever does anything about letters. That’s what the CIA people always think about me, that I am so naïve, it’s cute. Yes, they think, I am cute, well those letters weren’t so cute were they?

I mailed them Monday night and I thought I had few days before the response was felt. Wednesday night I was over hanging around with my former roommates and when it got late, I spent the night on the floor in the living room. It’s funny, I don’t even know why I would do that, I never sleep anywhere but home or on some dirty late night train nowadays. But back then, I was a comfortable social butterfly and if it got late or I got tired I would sleep anywhere. I did know that place would be unsafe very soon and I was pushing it.

I left early in the morning, no one else was up, and when I stepped outside, I saw a terrible thing. The property outside had a bunch of broken down cars parked on it and every single one had a bright day-glow green sticker stuck on the windshield. They were official notices from the police department, three-day warnings, move this vehicle or be towed. They had come in overnight, no one had heard anything and they hadn’t knocked on any doors, it was more than creepy, it was the beginning of the explosion I knew was coming. And now, I knew that I would be seen exiting the property, I might now become sucked into whatever the police were planning. I looked beyond the train tracks, to the apartments on the other side. I searched every window, and every door for any sign of sudden surveillance, but there was nothing new. I saw only one neighbor standing outside his apartment in a bathrobe, sipping his morning coffee, a man I had seen a thousand times before. Perhaps then, this is all they might do, though I doubted it, I at least would be able to slip away before the real heat targeted the property.

I walked briskly in the morning dawn, past unit B and then past unit A. No one was around, but the front gate stood wide open, it’s chain hanging on it, and the brass lock for which we all had a key, lay broken on the ground as if a hidden voice said ‘Badges, we don’t need no stinking badges!’. I thought, ‘Can they legally break a lock and enter private property to tag vehicles parked there?’ Probably not, it was a powerful statement. I walked out the gate looking to my left on the tracks, I saw a man standing under a small tree. He seemed out of place, his clothes, a few notches above the neighborhood, his glasses, gold rimmed, and on his wrist was a stylish gold bracelet or maybe a gold watch, but most of all it was his manner. He just stood there looking at the building and of course at me. Looking past him, to the right, on the railroad property were a couple of railroad employees working inside a utility box, which was odd considering the hour of the day, but not impossible. On the street on the other side of the tracks, two men sat in a car drinking coffee and talking to each other. It was early, and as I studied them, only the man under the tree noticed me. I paused looking at him, and he looked back at me, perhaps I stared, he abruptly put his hands on his waist and turned around looking the other way. Maybe then it was nothing, he was waiting for someone, a work partner or some such thing. I resigned myself to never return to that place again, whatever was to happen, it would not involve me, I would not be a part of the coming disaster.

I drove home, took a shower, relaxed for a while and eventually went to work. All day I was haunted by what I knew was coming, I thought about the man under the tree, and about my friends, Dave and Mary. I had dropped a bomb and they were too stupid and ignorant to understand what was sure to happen. After work, I decided against my own better judgment to return to the warehouse one last time, just to tell them and try my best to warn them.

The warehouse had a lot of history you know, and it might help the story a bit if you knew all I knew about that place. Dave and I had been the first new tenants after the government had conducted a very large investigation and an eventual raid upon the property. The units had become available in a desperate fashion by the owners personal financial crisis. He needed cash and it was a good deal for us. We first saw the property after meeting the owner, he sent us over to take a look, the doors were all open, and the place was a mess. I was told it had been raided by the cops and they had made a big mess of things in their search of everything, but the tenants who got away, had not returned, nor had they contacted the owner, and he assumed they were hiding themselves away. The story was that unit C had been the target of the investigation, and finally after some months the police stormed into the parking lot of the warehouse heading down to unit C. It was said, the tenant of unit C had stepped outside for a smoke and a coffee, and that had triggered the police to move a bit faster than they had planned, since they weren’t sure if maybe he might run away or just be leaving for the day. As it turned out, the people in the first unit, unit A, had opened their large bay doors to release the powerful fumes from what was clearly a drug factory, and were standing about inside the large bay talking and enjoying the morning and monitoring their cooking gear and the whole process. Yes, they were doing all of that, when out of nowhere came screaming voices, perhaps saying things like “GO! GO! GO!” and the loud clanging of the lock to the front gate being shattered, and before any of them could even think what they ought to do, a storm of police ran past that open bay. The police stopped their charge midway in front of unit B and with no time for one of their classic little ‘cop meetings’ that they always seem to have when something unusual happens, something unusual which might force them to think and make a decision, they ordered the tenant from unit C, who it was said had dropped his cigarette and had a rather depressed look on his face, to “WAIT RIGHT THERE!”, while they doubled back to the unbelievable sight of what the fools in unit A had disclosed to them. They arrested everyone in unit A, but while they did that, they had given our friend and hero from unit C time to climb out a back window after tidying up his messy home, so they might not be able to prosecute him for any dirty underwear or other unseemly things. That guy waited several months in hiding, all the while swearing that if God gave him another chance he wouldn’t ‘fuck it up again’, and as turned out he was surprisingly free and clear. He has gone on as I understand it, to drive a city bus in someplace called ‘Lodi’, making good on his promise to be good. Of course, that was just what I heard, and you know, what do I know?

The case had apparently been going on for half a year or so, and had damaged the landlord in many ways, his tenants on the property had not paid him rent in that whole time, and he was glad they were gone.

Then there was the Ruebin man himself, he was a really swell guy, who I had met the first week I was living there. He was serving some six month sentence for something or another, which a guy like that would always do, but because the county jail was so overcrowded with normal people being held on illegal government actions, he was released five months early. All I can really say about Ruebin that matters to this story, is that aside from being someone I didn’t care for very much in the end, he did have a real problem with the FBI which kind of bothered me for a while. He had served three years in prison for a drug lab or an auto chop shop, I’m not sure which it was, but during his time in jail, he realized, that the legitimate front business he had been running, actually made more money that it’s illegal half. So when he got out, he borrowed money from someone and opened a new shop, and he told me that the FBI raided his new shop in the first week and that the agent in charge was the same guy who had run his case last time. He said the agent took him into a private room and told him how much he hated him and that he knew he was a career criminal and he would always be watching him and would eventually put him in prison forever. So that was my next door neighbor, and the next day I painted a giant ‘C’ on the front door to our unit. I saw Ruebin on more than one occasion watching the area around the building and saying how people were watching us and how they would be coming for him again. The worst part of all that, was that I saw some of those people he pointed out and they had things that were like uniforms and badges and stuff like that. I had always hoped they would keep a nice record of our clear separation, but still I worried and you know, it was creepy.

Then there was the news after a couple of months at that warehouse, of our neighbors two doors down. Another warehouse, a place I used to walk by in the morning and always noticed they interrupted their work to watch me with that paranoid look of someone who is watching or being watched. I just thought they didn’t like me, for whatever reason, you know. I remembered thinking how all those guys were so normal and hard working and even in the middle of the night were so busy doing whatever work it is people do so late at night. Yeah, so the police had rented an apartment directly across the train tracks from us, and had been watching those guys who evidently had been running, I forget, maybe it was a chop shop for stolen cars, I don’t think it was a drug lab, but maybe. So that was the way it all was there, way before I wrote my letters, and you know, I considered very deeply, the mythical words of the FBI agent to the evil Ruebin “I will get you.” And I couldn’t help but think, that at the very least, that man would now be very much ‘out to get…someone’.

I didn’t go straight over to the warehouse after work, instead, I went by the flea market, that was of course where Dave and Mary worked, the Coliseum Flea Market, but everyone said they had some problem back at the warehouse. I really didn’t want to go over there, but I did, and that was the beginning of something that even the conspiracy circle isn’t sure to believe, that was day zero of my experience with the Machine.

I went on over there, parked my van, got out and walked over to the front gate, then I saw them. The man who had been standing under the tree was still there as were the two railroad men and of course the two guys in the car across the tracks were as well. It had been more than ten hours and they looked pretty tired and angry. But, that wasn’t it, there was a house behind the two railroad guys and on it’s steps were several men and inside, it appeared there were more, and from an open window it appeared as though a man was in there watching out, though I couldn’t at first be certain. The railroad men sat next to their box, having stopped pretending to be working long ago, and the men in the car had stepped out and were chatting with unknown people on the street. They saw me, and it was like this; the man under the tree zigzagged back and forth, as a cat that was about to pounce on a poor little mouse might, and he raised his right hand up high and began snapping his fingers, until the others noticed him, and when they did, he looked over to the house behind the railroad men and pointed furiously at me, and the railroad men jumped up and began hitting the side of the house and out of that window, the one where I thought maybe I saw a man inside, a man stuck himself out holding a large camera with a telescopic lens on it and he took my picture.

I know what you all say, the same thing everyone says, but I want to tell you, from a mans perspective who was there, you do not want to talk to these people, and if you do, and I, on occasion have, they will deny taking your photo and challenge you to a fight. They will not be kidding around either, and should you scream and shout, some will disappear but more will come and they will surround you and ask “what’s your fucking problem you big piece of shit?” And should you lose your temper, they will indeed scatter away sort of, and they will not beat you to death, but they will defend themselves and it will be a collective defense and you will get up after and walk away. I have seen this happen, why even the evil Ruebin came back one day, after some men he said were watching him from across the tracks had hit him in the face with a two by four. So if you say, “Oh, I would have gone over done this, or said that”. Ok, sure you would, and maybe you would, but it would get you nothing but a black eye. They will not answer your questions, and if you push the conversation they will tell you “Fuck you dick.” And they will mean it.

Well, that was the feds, and I warned Dave and Mary who said “oh well”, after all they were feds themselves, so why would they be scared, not that I knew that then. I went home, and the very next day, I had my own car following me around. And here is the way the game works; it is not a simple matter of intimidation, the game they play is very complex and I will tell you what they did to me, and this game I describe, well, you may indeed believe that I am an alien well before you believe this game our government plays. I hesitate, but what the hell, I already told you I think I am an alien so what difference does it make? In my poster exposés I summarized this ‘game’ with the single word, ‘harassment’, but it is was much more than that.

‘The Game’ is something that they named and they named it this themselves, and of course it means the spy game. The game was developed thousands of years ago, and has been used by governments and large organizations ever since. In the United States I know we used the game against Soviet spies from the 1950’s on. The game does exist and it is very sad to me to hear rumors of the game being used to target civilians. It is used today in political cases, and in the drug war and for certain, with our grand new ‘war on terror’, I am sure that many Moslem American activist have been forced to play this game. It is in our constitution you see, sort of, and it’s funny when I hear people talk about the ‘Patriot Act’ and the new intelligence reorganization bill, and how they complain about the erosion of the law of ‘due process’. Did you know that in our constitution, it clearly states that the one exception to the law of habeas corpus, is a threat to the public safety, such as, in time of war. An old woman who tosses a banana peel on the street may technically be considered ‘a threat to the public safety’, and that is reality. The new laws if anything, simply reflect a greater and greater use off ‘the game’ against civilian members of our citizenry. More and more people are screaming in terror and better, more, comprehensive illusionary legal statements are being produced by our ‘Orwellian’ government.

They begin the game by targeting you with very light surveillance, the members of which possess an attitude to you personally, and that attitude will be shown on their faces as clearly as possible and they will even tell you about it, just so you are certain to know. They will actually tell you, in this way, a stranger is jogging along the road and stops to stretch near you, and they cheerfully say “hello”, and then they will somehow drop it to you, “To be honest Andrew, I have better things to do than be jogging here, and you need to be more responsible.” And they will jog away, and you won’t dare accost them, because after all, you already know that you are under real surveillance, by federal agents, you will be cool. They in essence seem a bit annoyed, because you are nobody and why are they being troubled to follow you around? It makes perfect sense, they would be bothered, maybe, but they would never tell you, and in fact you would never know if you really had a small amount of federal surveillance on you, they show themselves on purpose, just to lay the foundation for what comes next. A week goes by and you still see them, and what they do next is they introduce to you an idea, some idea and everyone has something, and what the idea does, is it links a possible greater conspiracy to you personally. They will bring that into your life and the agents who were following you will now convey a sense of concern that you might be more involved in something, and that ‘something’ will be totally incidental to whatever initially drew them in. However, the matters theoretically could be linked, which is of great concern to them, or at least, that is what they will make it appear to be.

I had four things that they brought up, very slowly at that, over the first few weeks. The first one was that I used to be in a movement, it was called “The Movement to Humanize the Earth”, but unfortunately, it had the rather sinister nickname, ‘The Movement’ like some kind of terrorist group or something. That was one, point two was that the movement itself appeared to many people, including myself, if only a little bit, to be a cover organization for something very real, which unfortunately, it is. The cover organization is very nice and is conveniently international, so as to facilitate international travel for whoever they need to ‘move’. It is all over the world and its members are invited to do volunteer work in different countries, like Ethiopia, Bosnia, Kosovo and places like that. Its official goal is to ‘Humanize the Earth’, and who can say anything is wrong with that? As a member back in those days, I used to think the movement was under constant scrutiny by international authorities and I met some people who came to our meetings and retreats that I knew were feds, but what did I care, I could only laugh to myself that I had a CIA file already, along with different nations equivalent files. For me, it didn’t really matter, I was known as a member of the cover organization, but the reality is, such people never escape true suspicion. I quit the Movement when I went to university, and when I became suspicious of them. Each year they have an international gathering in which they pick a different city somewhere, that members, who were unable to go to the last one, might be able to go this time. One year Buenos Aires, the next year Berlin, the next year Moscow. The movement was full of radical leftist who I tolerated due to our common purpose of Humanizing the Earth, but I never understood why the Communist block nations expressly forbid the Movement from organizing in their countries, I mean half the members were Communist themselves, so what difference did it make? Not only that, if you were an active member, you may actually have been given trouble getting a visa to visit the Communist block. So we were told, if you go there, you mustn’t tell them anything and you must never discuss the Movement or anything political, if you go, it is just for a vacation, we were told that was an actual agreement with secret unspoken people in those countries and as members in good standing, we must follow that rule. Lot’s of members went to the Communist block and the Movement had close ties over their politically, but not as an organization inside.

So in 1994, on January 1^st the Movement to Humanize the Earth was having it’s annual meeting in Mexico City, and I decided to attend anyway, despite all the trouble. What trouble? Why don’t you remember, that was the day the native Mexicans revolted in the State of Chiappas in southern Mexico. So down in Mexico City they called in the army to hold the city, and it was a big joke to most of us, as we strolled past tanks and armored vehicles and saw soldiers guarding banks and various government institutions. I thought it was just dumb luck, you know? But I will tell you what I did notice that got me thinking, I saw how the ‘bigshots from the Movement were never at any of the meetings, and I saw them, and I did see them, having deep private discussions all over the place. I saw them meet people I didn’t recognize and people who never came to any of the meetings during the gathering, I saw them get in cabs and rush off to parts unknown, and I didn’t understand. What I saw, was a gathering within a gathering. And it had reminded me of Buenos Aires the year before. That time in 1993, I was told on the fifth day of the gathering, a small delegation from the Sendero Liminoso in Peru had been able to get into the country and they were meeting with the Movement, they wanted to meet any Americans, and so how lucky I was, for I think I was the only American. The Sendero Liminoso were Maoist Revolutionaries that, at that time, were giving the Peruvian government a run for their money in the countries civil war, and it looked like they might very soon win. I thought that was really cool, you know, real revolutionaries, I was a bit young. I met those guys in a Movement run café, there were three of them, one was the political delegate and the other two were his body guards or something to that effect. He shook my hand and said he was pleased to meet me and asked where I was from, and when my orientor said the US he broke off the handshake and declared “Ahh Yanqilandia!” He wasn’t kidding either and it pissed me off, and we almost had a problem you know, but my orientor grabbed me and said ‘common let’s get some more coffee.’ They were not cool, but I had shaken their hand hadn’t I?

Do you remember when Boris Yeltsin got into a fight with the Russian Parliament? Both sides dissolved the other, and when no one knew what to do, both sides called in the military and ordered them to arrest the other side. Do you guys remember that? The military sided with Yeltsin and used artillery against the Russian Parliament, they surrendered and a new constitution was written. Yeah, that’s right, the Movement was having a big meeting in Moscow then, and I’m not sure if it was the big annual meeting or a semiannual, but it was going to be ‘very special’ they had told us. I didn’t attend, but those who did all made sure they got photos of themselves standing on tanks by the parliament building.

It’s a fascinating detail of my life and right now as I write this, I can’t help but feel you may look at me, with some uncertainty, but don’t. You see, the Movement was very important to me, and it was in the Movement that I learned so many things from philosophy and self discipline, it was I believe that I was placed in the Movement to learn such things, things that are difficult to learn in our modern world. I went to their retreats and I went to their meetings and the things I learned changed me so much, I learned who I am. Part of the reason that I know the Movement is run by an international secret society, is the information in the Movement itself, it is a compilation of what the mystery schools teach their members, with one exception, the one thing I do not approve of, and that is witchcraft. The Movement had studied psychic phenomena and determined it was real, however, for the purpose of ‘humanizing the Earth’ it had no relevant value and conducted no courses on the subject. I feel a tad bit guilty for outing them here, but I can’t support lies and deception, and I kind of hate secret societies, especially the violent ones, and they are all violent. Maybe I’m a hypocrite, but I still hate them, however, I will work with today, that’s how real politics work in our world, large secret groupings of all kinds of people, in giant conglomerates of spies and agents. Maybe I just hate everyone though, so it’s extra easy to hate them, and they lied to me too, right?

So anyway, what started happening in the second week of this surveillance was a sudden jump in interest in me. Suddenly there were more people following me around and they were really serious and unfriendly, and as I wondered why, it was discussed around me, ‘The Movement.’ Yes, it made sense to me, I had garnered extra suspicion by my past membership in a questionable organization with radical political contacts. And this is the way they do it to people, they first introduce a light element of observation, so as to let the person know they are under surveillance and then they introduce reasons for added scrutiny. Which in fact is bullshit, because in whatever files on the Movement might exist anywhere, my name had already been cleared, so I was a sucker of what I call ‘common mans logic’. It seems to make sense on the surface, so we believe it. In fact the way these people operate is to just slowly bump up the surveillance until they hear from you your own ideas as to why they may be doing this, for you know, it is a mistake, a big misunderstanding, you see? I mean who was I, what had I done? And then comes the nasty stuff, the bigger setup.

Ok, so now I am telling you that I sent these letters and suddenly I am being followed around as a possibly involved criminal right, and then I seem to come under greater scrutiny for other possible reasons. And here it is, and this is the game, the real spy game, when a real spy is identified this is what is done to them. Pressure slowly applied, until they are terrified, and in the end, if they are an authentic spy, they will make a break for it, either to avoid arrest or to avoid assassination. It is a very old tactic and it works, the subject runs, and where does he run? He runs to his contacts, his controllers or anyone he can think of, including sleeper spies, and in doing this, it is hoped, he will screw up all kinds of other operations by giving them away.

Two questions arise from the average person in this regard, first, what if the person is uninvolved, or innocent? And the other question, of much greater significance, what is it they do that is so God dam scary?

First, if you are innocent, here is the idea put forth, no one is innocent and it is said that if you go and report to the FBI what is happening, you will in fact, initiate an open and official dialog, and that will lead to this; we are conducting a massive investigation of you, because of x, y, and z and they will indict you and prosecute you. Oh yes my friends, if you are under the gun, they tell you, just let them finish their inspection, don’t go and say anything, that would be bad, just wait it out, it will end in a few days. And a few days go by and a few more and a week or two, and I will tell you, the innocent never make very far, they will break, and that’s the design, they will break you and the game ends then. The innocent person will break 99% of the time, or will leave town and run away to another state where they have no connections, or worse yet, back to their family, and that too is the end of the game. Many of the innocent will spend time in mental hospitals after they ‘break’, but some will die accidental deaths running away. Some throw bricks at the ‘little white cars following them everywhere’, that’s an automatic 51/50, meaning three days in the nuthouse. But if you are strong and if you do last, this is of special interest to these people, and they will turn up the heat more and more, and if you are clever and if you are very strong, and if you can last for a few months of this living hell, well then my friends it is just quite likely that you may have found a new profession, for this, is indeed, one of the many ways, our clandestine services finds it’s new employees. If you can by the will of God and sheer personal strength outlast those fuckers, they will offer you a job. How do you like that one? It’s said the Secret Service doesn’t hire applicants, you know.

Yes, if you last a week, well forget it. If you last two and do something creative, well maybe they will consider you, if you last three or four weeks, you are in. Should you prove to be special and last longer, or as they hope, until the bitter end, you will have a job with rank and will be considered special. The ultimate agent in the clandestine services is not going to bend from psychological pressure, or at least he will maintain his sanity and his focus during this pressure.

But what of all your friends and neighbors and all kinds of other non-involved civilians, I mean, they will all play a role so well, you might think they must all be involved, and they are, but how? The CIA or whoever is operating simply goes to them and says that you have joined them already and the old ugly word ‘training’ raises it’s head, just as it did for me, later in Alameda.

The second question was, what is it they do that is so scary? Well my friends, this is the part which is hard to believe, and I hesitate to say, but I will, if only for those who are now, or soon, to be forced to run this gauntlet. Though it is scientifically impossible to induce paranoid schizophrenia, it is the sheer terror of such an attempt that is the aim. They will work your environment so that, what you might say they are doing, is complete madness, complete utter madness. Say you have a confidant, a friend they cannot approach, and you confide you are in big trouble. The first week, you are being followed around by a few cars, well ok, that’s possible. But over the following days the things they do will mimic what an insane person sees or experiences. You tell your friend a lot more people are following you around, and today as you walked through downtown, every third person said the word “Chomp” to you, but not looking at you, rather, just under their breath, so only you could hear it. Well, how many people are we talking about, asks your friend, and you tell him maybe two hundred and your friend no longer worries about the government, he worries about your sanity. And what I found especially annoying and utterly ridiculous is that I would try to lure them into a trap where I could show them to a friend, and they knew what I was doing. If I went over to my buddies place, maybe twenty black cars or the little white ones would all be following me, and as soon as I got there, they would all speed away. I would try and get my friends to run around the corner with me so they could see these people, but it was impossible. Not always, they do screw up and in the end of the game, it’s pretty easy to get people to see them.

Your up late one night, and your listening to the radio, and your thinking, what should I do? And the radio announcer says in the background “this next song is dedicated to our victim of the day, Andrew” and you would as I did, perk up and think what did he say? And over the next few weeks it will always be like that, even the songs played will not be the authentic songs. It’s quiet simple, jam the local frequency and overplay, that’s all, and I do believe such a tactic can be done on a single radio. Now you try and tell someone that and see what they say?

They did all that to me, and I really got scared and I started to wonder, does the government do things like this, is such a thing really possible? Am I losing my mind? And here is the next stage of the game, they introduce the concept of a mystery group, a group which is after you, and for what? And who are they? They will bring this into your environment through an old method called street theater. What is that? Well, you go along, you drive over to your bank, and you park in the back, and as you get out, an old homeless person is in the lot talking to themselves, and what they say, it’s for you, it’s talking about whatever they’ve been doing to you, it’s what’s happening in your life, and they will do this anytime they need to talk to you or send you a message. Outside the bank, a husband and wife are arguing and the man say’s “You better listen to me, you better do what I tell you, I am not the government here, I am someone else, I am with you and I am on your side.” The wife screams back “No, I won’t do what you say, I will never join you, I will never work for you.” And the police will come along to break up a fight which just appears normal to all those watching, but you stay and look at them from a distance, and they will turn and wink at you, and can it be real?

I suffered this sort of gross abuse for the first month and then Ruebin and a whole gang of people got arrested by the FBI, it was on TV. All my friends also got arrested on petty warrants or no reason at all, and what I heard was ‘Andrew, are you involved in something?’ And everyone I knew started asking me weird questions and I told them no I didn’t do anything, but people were following me around and broadcasting onto my radio and well, that generally was the end of those conversations, you know. Ruebin was arrested in a major FBI operation which was looking into a group of people who were robbing mailboxes, and I mean the ones on the street, you know, collection boxes. He had been making keys to them and was part of a giant ring. Wow man, I couldn’t believe it, he was done for. And you know what really troubled me even more? He was released the next day and everyone said it was a big mistake, and that day the Machine got really heavy on me. I could only imagine what he had told these people, but imagine I did, and things got bad for me, they were everywhere and they were not being nice, no not at all.

They did all kinds of things to me, from the mundane, to the extreme, they were always there, mocking me, and terrorizing me. From the radio game, to following me, to all kinds of street theater, they did things that are only limited by the human imagination, and all of it breaks the law. You can never believe, they had hundreds of people involved in this game. At the time, I wondered how they could afford it, and I came to think it was all a massive investigation I had triggered with my letters. Of course they made mistakes, it is a rule of human engineering, there will be mistakes. One of the things they did, was to bang my floor with a hammer, from underneath, in the subfloor. At first I had thought it was a loose water pipe, you know how they might bang back and forth. It was not, it was an instrument of terror, and if I banged back, they banged faster and harder. I was surprised by this insanity, but it did match the game plan presented in the book perfectly and so I didn’t respond to it (yes, there is a book, someone wrote, I’ll get to that in a minute). Anyway, I used to just sit there wishing I had a pistol and could shoot through the floor, killing whoever was down there. Of course armed people are treated differently, or just disarmed. It was my next door neighbor who ended that particular harassment, he was a drunk and not really privy to what was going on, so he broke it down for me one night. I had arrived home at two am and I sat there on my couch looking at the floor thinking of who was under there banging on my floor and other things, when all of a sudden my next door neighbor screamed and picked up some heavy object and started banging back on the floor. He screamed “I’m sick of it, I won’t take it anymore, knock it off or I’ll kill you! I know you’re down there! Stop! Stop! Stop! I’ll kill you!” The banging stopped at once and never came back. That would be considered a break, and he wasn’t even their target.

Three critical things contributed to my endurance in this terrible time. The first thing was that I had read a book once, a special book about conspiracies, a book, which when I read it, I assumed was a joke, as it had apparently been written to appear, but it was not a joke, it was a description of all that was happening to me. The book talked about the method of the Machine and how it attacks it’s targets and forces them to join them or else…the book said that the system of attack is to attempt to induce paranoid schizophrenia in the subject which breaks them down. And while I endured those first few weeks and I watched them do all the things they did, I realized something, that book was not just a joke, it was a counter manual, written to help poor victims in this crisis, to help them know at least the truth of what was happening, it exposed the enemies game plan. Or if not to help the victims, to screw up the attackers. And I will tell you the name of that book, and you won’t believe it, that is the Illuminatus Trilogy by Robert Anton Wilson, and that saved my life, at least in part. The second thing that saved my life was my training I had received in the Movement, I can’t explain all I learned there without writing a few other books, but the things I learned, gave me the ability to focus my mind and deal with the reality before me, no matter how terrible or how impossible it was, the training I received gave me an iron will that these men could never break.

The third thing was, when I was confused as to if this was a government operation or now involved some mythical secret society or even ‘The Great Satanic Conspiracy’, I got up my courage and I did something very creative. I will recommend it to you right here, if you ever find yourself at odds with the US government, never forget to perform your own counterintelligence. Believe it or not, our government has very little in the way of such protections and when it comes to the individual target, it is really easy to gather all kinds of vital information that you may want or need.

And so there I was, the victim of some kind of giant coordinated conspiracy, which grew with each passing day. The tactics they used were terrifying and senseless. I would stroll down the street and strangers would point and laugh at me and mean it! These strangers would threaten me and yell at me for no good reason at all. One trick they liked to do was the gas station trick, where I would pull up to a pump and two things would happen, first totally out of nowhere a guy would pull up and inform me very rudely, that he had been at that pump first and he wanted to use it, I was his way. At the same time a homeless person would begin aggressively asking me for money and at the same time a couple would walk along the sidewalk having a furious argument saying they would kill each other. I would look at all this and then the guy who wanted my pump would ask me “Hey man, what’s your fucking problem?” And then the couple who had been arguing on the sidewalk would scurry past me with the woman mumbling something about someone being an asshole and the guy would be in hot pursuit. She would give me a mean look as she past, and by mean, I do not mean impolite, I mean, one of murder. Her boyfriend would stop as he past and say, “What’s up man, you got a problem with my fucking girlfriend, huh? Hey, I’m talking to you asshole!” The homeless man would step back and call me a “fucking dick” and immediately ask someone else for money in a much more subtle way, however both the men would say, “Did you just call me a fucking dick?” It was terrifying, and it was obviously coordinated, and so what do you do? You flee in terror, while these other people would just shake their heads, like you were some aggressive jerk who had been picking fights with everyone, and yet, you hadn’t even said a single word. Off you would go to the next gas station, where it was the same, and again and again, occasionally they would even use the exact same people.

I went into a liquor store near my home and bought a diet Pepsi and the man behind the counter was so friendly, but I had never seen him before, and he mentions at some point to someone that he had owned the place for twenty years. He puts my change on the counter and it’s fifty three cents, and I reach for it, and he say’s “oops” and pulls away a quarter. So, we kind of have a little discussion about the correct change and he says I gave it to you and then scoops the rest of the change back off the counter, with a big smile. OK, it’s a freak incident, and the next place, a seven eleven two days later, it’s the same guy, and he does the same thing. You get the idea.

I couldn’t hardly believe that our government would engage in such a thing, and that too is their game, so I had to find out, was this really a solid government operation, or were there others involved. And this is the worst part of course, they behave in such an insane manner, that you just aren’t sure, I mean, what did I really know about the way our world works? But, I wasn’t really falling for their big scam, and I could tell, I mean who can do such a thing as this and get away with it? The people who control our society of course and they work through our government, period. It had been nine and a half weeks of increasingly hostile and bizarre behavior from this unknown group against me, and where I had at first thought, I must be about to be arrested, I passed that stage into the one where I knew that it was a game of some kind, but perhaps a lethal one. They were doing more and more odd things and from the book I had read before, I knew this was their game, but there was one thing I still needed to know for certain, who were they? Was this a pure government action or had they turned me over to some other group whose purpose I could only imagine?

So one day, I mustered up all my courage and decided I certainly could at least find their source, I could follow them back to their ‘base’ wherever that may have been, and so I did. I watched those who were coming, and those who were going, the people on ‘duty’ would circle the block, give me the middle finger and otherwise pay me very close attention, but I also saw the ones who were leaving, and there were so many, all I had to do was to head in the general direction they were going and they would lead me to their home. I followed them, with out looking to much, not that it would have mattered due to the simple fact, that no one, almost no one ever performs their own counterintelligence work. I followed them downtown, and I knew where they were heading, or so I thought and I knew what I had to do, I had to get close to the federal building without them knowing I was watching them, and I am quite proud to tell you, I was very successful in doing just that and it was more successful than I could have ever hoped.

I headed to my favorite little restaurant, which was perfectly normal, in the eyes of the Machine, but when I got there I made it appear as though I were in deep thought, and so I headed over two blocks to the police station and asked the officers where the traffic court building was. OK, so you see they knew what I was doing there, they knew it was all within the possible confines of my world, because I had a traffic ticket coming due or, I confess, maybe it was past due. The cops outside told me, “Well, that’s the court building right over there, across the street” and that brought me within two blocks of the federal building in Oakland. The court was closed, but the office was open and if you wanted to could speak to a clerk, which I then stood in line to do. The office had a wall of windows which faced East and I casually turned and could see the federal building, for at that time, they were doing construction on the block between the court and the federal building and had completely cleared the lot of everything. My view was unobstructed, and I did see their little white cars coming and going from the buildings subterranean parking lot, but I had to be careful, for if they knew what I was doing, they would tell each other and the area would be cleared and I would lose this chance, probably forever. As I waited my turn the number of people in the room doubled and the guards at the front door became irritated at all of the sudden traffic and said over and over “The court is closed you can’t even make an appointment and we will be closing the building in ten minutes.” They watched in astonishment as their lobby filled with members of my conspiracy and I suppose on some level, they must have understood something. All I did was get up the window and argue with the clerk, I said I wanted to go to court right then, and she informed me Oakland had no night court and that I would have to go back tomorrow morning. I asked her whatever I could think that she would say no to, and I showed irritation and hostility, and finally I coalesced and left in what might have appeared to have been a controlled fuming anger. I walked past the guards and turned East and walked aimlessly, or so it may have appeared. I walked two very short blocks and I stopped. For directly across the street was the complex of federal building, and I do believe that where I stood were the entrances and exits for all, of it’s official parking. I stood on that corner, some fifty feet from the edifice of the Machine itself, and I watched, for it was five pm at that, all of the personal were leaving the complex and a gang of other federal employees entering for whatever night duty they might be doing. At that point in time, I had a good four minutes of viewing before anything happened, and while I stood there, I saw all of the cars that had been following me around, and even as if a joke from God, the most horrible little ratty old two colored Chevy, a car from which an old man and a younger but still old woman had first accosted me in a parking lot near my home and then a few minutes later pulled around and offered to sell me some narcotics. That ugly joke of a Chevy came down the street and I thought, it must just be coincidence, but it was not, for they turned directly into the lot before me, and the horrible woman, who had presented herself to me earlier in the day as the dredges of society, turned to her accomplice who was driving and pointed at me, she did that just as he presented his parking pass to the guard of a federal vehicles only complex, who then opened the little riser to admit them. And in they drove, knowing full well, all I knew. I saw some people exit the side doors, which were security doors of the buildings on either side of the street, so many people came out. A group gathered on the corner directly before me, and with no knowledge of my presence, nor any concern, began chatting away. A large white Bronco, that I swore had always followed me everywhere, exited the secure lot on the left, and they all waved to the driver, who waved back and drove right past me. I saw a few white cars who were on duty following me, pull off to the side and park, as they watched me in amazement. The on duty watched the off duty give away their whole game, and some began honking and waving as if it would have mattered. One guy furiously honked and a woman looked over and in apparent recognition of him waved back, and he threw up his hands shaking in frustration. But the clincher, or perhaps the worst one, was when a young African American driving his little fed car came out of the lot and stopped to chat with those on the corner. I had seen him twice that day, he had been so nasty to me, you couldn’t imagine. I had gone over to board the Bart at the Fruitvale station and he had asked me for some spare change, he had called me a slight racial slur of ‘Whiteboy’, and had followed me past the turn styles into the station, saying “I’ll fucking kill you, you mother fucker!” I thought I had had the inopportunity to run across him again at another BART station two hours later when he came out from behind a support column with a large metal rod and then, as if by chance he had noticed me and with a look of pure hatred in his eyes, a look that I cannot believe is not real, he stepped back a bit and asked me “You looking for a problem man, You following me man?” “No, I’m not following you…” and I had to walk within six feet of him, and at the end of that brief walk he flinched on me with his metal rod, which means to say, he made a motion as if he were to strike me, and I did jump a foot or so back and turn to him. He had said “Keep fucking walking…” I knew he was the same man, for his clothes you see were identical as was everything else one may recognize, and I was so amazed, because here he was some ordinary man who had a really good job for the government and would have been held up as an example of all that one might be or expect to be in the modern middle class of America. He didn’t strike me then as the tough street thug he had earlier and as I thought ‘what sort of man could feign such nasty behavior, against an innocent citizen,’ he laughed with his middle class friends, and they talked perhaps about what restaurant they might all go have Margaritas at, and I hated that man, and he was a rather big man, but I thought, ‘why I bet I could pull him out of that car and I could kill him right then and there, and he couldn’t have done a thing to stop me.

There was a kind of commotion then as some people down the way were pointing at me, and a man in a very nice suit, with some kind of clipped on badge stuck to that very nice suit, he stepped out of the security door on the building to the left and he yelled at the small group who had terrorized me on that day, and who maybe had perhaps spent years of their careers discussing and participating in ways to stop me from living any life at all and other ways to in general destroy me, while they themselves prospered and lived happily as highly respected members of your society. They noticed me then and the man in the car looked so surprised and for a moment he put a mean look on his face and looked at me, and I almost lost my control, for this man was no thug, he was a weak man, and in that moment I could have killed him, and I guess he saw it, and perhaps he knew what I knew, and he sped away, rather fast at that, leaving his ‘friends’ to fend for themselves. They always do that, you know, leave each other behind. In retrospect, I should have gone over and killed as many as I could, but that isn’t really my way. You see, when I play a game, weather it is mine, or yours, I play to win, and win I would, and win I will.

It’s funny you know, as a small side note, all those people from those months of 1999 have their real names and their real home addresses, even of their families in the federal files, available for my circumspection on some future date yet to come. Of course, I know they will all be shredded…well, not quite…well, not at all. I knew a guy once who had taught law at a major university in South Vietnam during the sixties and early seventies, and as a part time career had worked for the secret police as a ranking officer. He told me he tortured people, and was very proud to say that he could inflict more pain than you can imagine without leaving a single mark on his victim. I asked him why he would torture people and he said that the police and the military didn’t do good work, so he often took over interrogations personally. He was a really nice guy too, and I asked him how he could do that, and he said, “I don’t know…we were at war.” I asked him if he had ever killed anybody and he said, “Yes sure…” I asked him then, but they were all guilty too right, I mean, the war and all, they were the enemy right? I remember he shook his head and said “No, they were not, and some of them were very nice, once a student of mine I liked very much found out I worked with the police and so we brought him in and I not only tortured him, but I had to kill him, so he wouldn’t tell on me.” And I asked that murderer, what then happened at the end of the war, did they burn all your files, and your IDs? And he told me, “Well, in the early seventies, we formulated a very complicated plan in the event we lost the war, and all of the files were of course to be destroyed. So, I said “You got away then?” And he told me, no, he had gone to the police station on April 30^th 1975 while the Viet Cong secured Saigon and he walked to his offices and it was big mess, files were everywhere, no one had done anything other than run away, but people already been there, and what could he do, he was alone, so he went downstairs and set the building on fire and the whole thing went up. He was satisfied, but you know, it’s not your own intelligence files you see, it’s everyone else’s, the Americans, who on the same day had not only fled their embassy, but didn’t even shred anything, the French, who had done the same, the also Chinese kept good intel and on and on it goes, continuing way beyond the files of the nations but even into the files of the secret societies themselves, each and every detail is recorded by a hundred different spies, working for a hundred different organizations. They came to his door four days after the fight was over. He was the uncle of my girlfriend at that time, that is how I knew him, and he spent ten years in prison and I can’t help but think he got off light, for imagine his poor student who had done nothing at all. His best friend in the world was my girlfriends father and he too had been sentenced to ten years in prison, but he had only been a military police officer, but that was a lie and so her uncle had said to me, “He did more of course.” The Communist forces made an announcement on the radio the day after the war was over, and they repeated it, they knew everyone and if you did not turn yourself in within three days you would still be considered a combatant. There were people all over the city, even in conservative neighborhoods, the kind of people who host ‘we love George W. Bush’ parties, who came out into the streets cheering the enemy and welcoming them, and many wore uniforms of the enemy or badges or other official evidence showing they were really part of the previously secret underground. Over here we don’t hear much about that stuff, but they did all keep lists and everyone got arrested. I mean there is a lot more about that whole war that many do not know, but we don’t have the time here. Save to say one thing alone, Capitals do fall to enemy armies, and wars do happen, so do military coups and revolutions, even in America…Remember the hero of the South, President Davis? He died in prison, right? Convicted of treason. Oh well, an irrelevant moment, let’s get back to the story shall we…

In the days following my following, things changed, they quieted down a bit, and I guess they figured I knew they were all middle class weaklings who probably didn’t even know how to fight, and for a while they stayed a fair distance from, me. I worried from then on about something else entirely different then physical threats on the street, I worried about a criminal prosecution, or my murder. You see, the government cannot spend money without an accounting, I mean sure they can, and they make mistakes, but if a group of persons is financed and audited by an outside group, they better have something to show for it, even the CIA. I waited then for the next couple of weeks to see weather they would leave me alone, but they did not. And you know it’s funny, because I knew a guy in Oakland who I had always thought was an undercover police officer. He worked at the flea market and we liked each other a lot, and he used to tell me, I only pretend to work here and I would laugh and say how about your real work, and he would tell me, I only pretend to do that too. He was vague but he did say, there comes a time in each of our lives where we can build large estates and do great things and be very famous big shots, or if we want, we can take those opportunities to spend the rest of our lives pretending to be vendors at the flea market. He told me resolutely, I have never hurt anyone in my life, and out here, no matter what happens or what I see, I will never hurt anyone. He was a nice guy and I got the idea that he had somehow worked himself into what he thought was a ‘clean’ life, morally speaking. I had no real idea, but what a great guy. He was the man who came along one day and stood in front of my flea market space, and he just stood there looking at me and looking around, and he shook his head and said, “I think you’re in a bit of a legal problem.” I looked at him and I said “It’ll be Ok.” But he shook his head and he told me “No, it won’t be Ok.” I said, “Let’s be frank, OK, I’ll tell you my story and you tell me your legal opinion.” I told him about the letters and he told me how I was now a target, and I told him, yes, but I was sure it was an accident, and he told me no, the minute the matter began they got you fingerprints from the letters, and they focused on you for their own reasons. This was a big problem, I had intentionally not used gloves on the letters but no one could have known that, and I asked how he knew, and he said “You want to know what else I know?” I did and said so, and he told me that if I could guess how much money these fools had just spent on my name, and I said I can’t imagine and he said, a lot. He told me that I was clean, and they had indeed tried very hard to ‘get me’ and they were empty, which I said was great and he said no. He told me that even if I went to court and proved I wrote the letters I was still guilty of a very common crime that our prisons are full of, and that is the crime of “Conspiracy”. I told him, no jury would buy that, and he said, you want to talk about juries, and you already know how these people work, you will do 18 to 24 months in a prison, because they cannot justify spending their money, and they will have their revenge. He said, all I ever had to do to be guilty of Conspiracy was to have had a private conversation with Ruebin. He asked me if I thought this man maybe had been arrested, and before I could say anything, he raised his finger for me to say nothing, and he said, just consider, if this man has been arrested, and perhaps he has been released, what might have he said about you? He looked really sad and said “Someone always goes to prison.” He said that was it then, he said I needed to leave town, preferably the state and if possible, take a trip to Canada for a few years. It’s a funny thing he would say that, and to this day, I am not sure weather he spoke as a participating member of the conspiracy or as some kind of a renegade. He may be reading this somewhere out there and all I can say is that what happened to me, was conducted, by very cruel and very un-American people and I would like to think that what he said was from his heart.

My mother got me Canadian citizenship when I was eight years old, ‘in case there was another Vietnam war’, she said Canada will change it’s laws and refuse entry to American draft dodgers. She said, if I ever needed, I could walk across the border and there is nothing the Americans can do. Perhaps that too, was a single moment in that woman’s life where she actually did something for me, for real. I thought about what my friend at the market had said, and I went home to discover something new. My poor little apartment had been most thoroughly gone through. It wasn’t wrecked, but things had been tossed about a bit, and a trunk I had, a trunk, which in fact held my Canadian documents, had been overturned and the contents spilled onto the floor. I cleaned up, but I never did find my Canadian Citizenship papers. I worried then, increasingly about what that man said, and I started thinking, I have to leave town.

So I talked to my friends of all of these things and I got the best advice I could, and everyone told me not to worry, for indeed there were big things happening, but none of it had to do with me, and I tell you, the more worried I was, the more serious people were with me. I was convinced then that I had nothing to worry about, despite the warnings from my friend at the flea market. I still kept the idea of leaving town open, but everyone told me, I had nothing to fear. Everyone including my best friend in the whole world John Ahearn. I trusted John more than anyone, and he was a very sensible person, and he told me that I needn’t worry, and that even if Ruebin told the FBI all kinds of lies about me I had nothing to fear. John told me the FBI had come out to see him and he said that Ruebin had told them everything he could think to get out of his situation, and that he had been released because he was going to testify against someone. John told me everyone had been interviewed and he told me, if I hadn’t it was because they knew I was no one.

So a week more of what I felt was a declining presence of the authorities in my life, and I started thinking, all will be fine, all will be well. It was on May 24^th of 1999 that I had taken my van out in search of this thing called “Pick”. Pick was when, once a year you are allowed to throw away all you want and the city will take it, and for fifty weeks a year, in the City of Oakland, they will have a neighborhood where you can find all kinds of things thrown away, or they used to anyway. Basically, people clean out their garages and stuff like that and it is a very interesting thing to do, if you ever get into it, they say it is addictive and it’s called ‘pickitis’. So, on this occasion, I had taken my van alone and I had found the pick, which normally is pretty hard to do, but not only had I found it, I was alone, there were no other people and it was a really great pick. My poor friend John had complained that he had run out of inventory to sell, and he had no money and all that stuff. John lived in his van at that time and I had previously let him stay on my couch, but you know, that gets old pretty fast. He preferred his van, and I don’t know what to say about that, but it happens, more and more these days. Work for Wallmart or die, slave! Something like that right? Do what we say, or eat shit and live in the rain. Pass me my plate of shit, I say.

There was no one else out on pick that night except a single little red car that kept driving around watching me. When I stopped to dig the trash, they parked up the street and I thought, well, that’s all that was left of the feds watching me. I felt great, and there was so much great stuff to sell the next day. But I kept thinking of John, and I was worried about him. So I stopped what I was doing, and I drove my van down looking for John and I found him camped out in the flea market parking lot, all by himself, with an empty van. I walked over to him and knocked on his window and I asked him if he had seen Don Fragoso, whom was supposed to meet me earlier. He said he hadn’t and so I asked him how his inventory was holding out, and he said he had nothing and didn’t know what he would do. So I told him about how great the pick was and that I had found it, and no one else was there, he could follow me if he wanted. He declined saying he had problems with the van and didn’t want to risk breaking down. I was worried about my friend and so I said that if he wanted he could ride with me, and I was sure we could squeeze in enough for him to sell the next day. He declined. I tried to convince him. And still he declined.

So I walked back over to my van to leave, and John came running over and he said “Andrew, why did you come here tonight?” I said, “I was looking for Don.” He questioned that and asked me why I was so concerned about his inventory, and I told him “I was just worried about you a bit.” He said “Why Andrew, why would you be worried about me?” What could I say? I said he was my friend and I was worried, that was all. John looked at me and he said “So Andrew, you were all the way over on…” and here it was a bit funny, because he said the name of the area, though I forget today, he had already known where pick was, “…and you came all the way back here because you were worried about me?” He continued “So then Andrew, you concern yourself with me as your friend? Willing to spend you time and your gas and lost opportunity to come on over here for me, is that right?” I said that was right, and John said, “Do you love me Andrew?” And that was a bit over the top for me and I said John what are you talking about and he demanded “No, I’m serious, why would you come here if it was not love?” He didn’t mean the gay type of love either, so don’t get the wrong idea here, and I said “Well, yes John, I suppose if you want to say that I guess I do.”

We have our friends in life and I guess sometimes we love them, but I think it is an unusual conversation, especially between men, you know. I was going to leave then, and I invited John one last time, do you want to come with me? And here is what happened, John was shaking his head with a big smile, “Andrew, then you are like my brother, you are my brother Andrew! You know Andrew, I don’t think anyone in the entire world other than you actually loves me.” And I said “Well ok buddy, I’m gonna go now.” And then John flipped to a different topic. He told me there was something I needed to know, he had been wrong about the FBI guys and he said it was much worse than he had thought. He said “You might have been right about everything you said, and I think tonight they are going to do a sweep and get us all.” I asked him why he thought this and he said that the flea market was under incredible police surveillance and he added, “I know this cop, and he told me tonight a sweep will happen.” I rubbed my chin and I wondered if John and I knew the same man, perhaps, though I said nothing of that, I asked John, “Show me any surveillance right now.” And to my horror he did. There were people sitting quietly in different areas nearby, who John had said told him they were homeless, but he said they came there at night to sleep, but he watched them and they never slept. He showed me one man sitting on a stool by a fence and I was a bit surprised and then he said “and look over there” and on a roof of a warehouse distribution center across the street, I thought I saw a figure move. He said “They are dressed in black but keep watching, they have a dozen men up there.” And I looked and sure enough I saw them move about silhouetted against the sky, and they were not just men dressed in black clothes, they wore little caps and they were all the same. I said, “Well, maybe…” And John cut me off and said “and over there Andrew” in the empty lot next to the flea market, I could see cars parked on the far side, and I thought I saw men there as well, and then I saw one light a cigarette and indeed in that moment of light I saw he wore a black uniform with the same cap as the men on the roof across the street. John said “At first, I thought the guys on the roof were security but then I saw them go over to that lot and they all are together.” He continued “You were right Andrew, and it’s really serious, I think this is the FBI and if it is, it could be really bad for us.” I asked him, why would they do a sweep, for what? Why? He said “Well, I have only heard of this once before and what they did was arrest about five hundred people across several counties, and what they do is intimidate and threaten everyone, but Andrew, they will go through everything you own, and if you have anything illegal, get rid of it.” I thought for a moment, ‘this really sucks’ and then I thought about a small bag of Marijuana in my pocket, and I must confess to you here, not only did I used to occasionally light up a little stogie now and again, but I bought that shit in bulk, and that very day, I had met the nicest man ever, who was terrible looking and yet so friendly and he had so oddly given me the greatest deal I had ever gotten on weed in my life. I gasped in horror, for he had set me up that mother fucker! I had actually a huge bag of pot in my pocket that was great green stuff, and well over an ounce, it was like, well never mind. Just then a couple of Oakland police cars passed by the front driveway of the market and slowed almost to a stop and the men on the roof on the other side yelled something, and the cops drove on. So that was it then, a giant federal sweep, yuk!

I asked John, when will they get us, and he shook his head, “I don’t know, they are getting their paperwork together, and I can tell you it will be before dawn, maybe we have an hour or two.”

That was going to be the end of the game for me that night, and for some reason John warned me and in particular warned me to lose anything illegal. I don’t know if it was as I think, but I choose to believe that John liked me, and he hated them, as all good psychopaths hate, John too hated. The problem was that I loved John and no one in the world loved John, and so upon his confirmation of this fact he decided to sabotage them. I left the lot, with that giant bag of weed in my pocket and right away an Oakland police car pulled out from nowhere behind me, but he didn’t stop me, and I knew why, the game was not theirs and I had a clear road home. I drove half way home and kept thinking, I have get rid of this shit, I had only to throw it out the window, but if this was the FBI, and we were like being watched and shit like that, I didn’t dare, I had a better idea. I parked my van and I went on foot home and along the way I stopped in a gas station and I flushed all that shit down the toilet. I walked home then and there cops everywhere and they were totally aware of me, and totally about to get me, so I tried to speak to them, but they refused and drove away from me. It was creepy, but I felt good, I was safe, and I would be fine. Someone, somewhere had a plan, and my friend had saved me from it, and I like to believe that much for certain is true.

On the way home, I saw more cops and they were having little cop meetings in the middle of the street with feds who were in their little white cars. Those little white cars the feds use have a name by the way, they call them ‘Wombats’, I have no idea why. As I got closer to home there presence diminished until I crossed the last street before my little home, and it seemed they were all gone. I thought to myself, ‘why, I might in fact not even be on their stupid sweep list’ and then looking to my left, I saw a lone Alameda police car parked at the side of the road. It was so odd for it to be parked there like that, so dark and no one around, I stopped to think about it, and then I saw inside, a cop sat there, and he raised his hand and waved to me. I waved back and I crossed the street and went on up to my room. I thought why was that cop there? I looked out my window and he had a good view of my room, but maybe there was another reason he was there? I watched outside, I looked for signs of any real activity, and then I saw an Oakland police car, which since we weren’t in Oakland was odd. He drove over to the lone Alameda police car and said something to him and while they were talking two big white fed cars with official plates pulled into the gas station across the street from my place. The Oakland police car he drove over to them and they got out and spoke for a moment and they pointed at my fucking window, and hesitated when they saw me, but unconcerned they nodded to each other and all drove off. The Alameda cop also started his engine and slowly drove away. Yeah, this one really sucked. I looked around my room and I thought, well, there is nothing illegal in here, so I guess, it was just gonna be some kind of mean game, and then the voices spoke to me. They said, “Do you want to let these foolish men play their silly game on you?” I did not, but what could I do? The voices told me, “If you could sneak away, before their papers were ready, you could make it over to Oakland and you could take a Greyhound bus up north for a few days. It really wouldn’t matter where you went, because the way these people structure their district authority, if you left town they not only wouldn’t arrest you, but probably wouldn’t even know where you went. You would come back after that game was played.” Yes, who was I to be captured in some stupid sweep. And there were buses leaving every hour going somewhere. I got together a few things and put them in a bag.

My plan was simple, I would go out the back door of my building and I would hop the fence and slither along the dark wall of the car lot next door, I would then move off into the quiet residential neighborhood beyond that and simply walk away. By the time I got over to the Webster street tube, no one would even be looking for me, they would think I was in my room right? If I was careful, I might just probably make it. So I hopped the back fence and I slithered along the back wall of that car lot and I looked carefully and there was no one. I whistled my way down the street so happy then, thinking I had defeated their grand plans for me. And I turned right at the first street, just to be safe you know, I was already two blocks from home, and surly no one would be out here, but they were. One of the big fed cars faced one way on the street and a regular Alameda police car faced the other and they were having a conversation. I saw them, and they saw me, and it was a bit troubling because they recognized me and now they knew that I was aware of their activity and I had begun responding. They sped off and soon there were a bunch of cars that were circling the block around me as I walked. I thought about going home, but if I indeed had maybe until dawn, I would be able to escape them before they had the proper authority to get me. It was worth a shot, and so I continued and they called more cars. I thought they could arrest me at anytime they wanted really, especially now, and I thought, this was to happen, but you know, if they don’t actually say anything to you, well then your not really ‘in flight’. Which is to say, if I could escape from them still, I might be able to get away, as long as they didn’t say “FBI, get over here” I would be free to continue my attempt.

Oh, my friends, let me tell you about that night! I didn’t want to really get into a running match because as long as I kept it casual I thought they wouldn’t say anything. But I thought what I could do, would be to go down side streets and lose some of them and then eventually I could slip away entirely. That is the basic theory of escaping, the CIA, or anyone for that matter, whenever they after you, or you are under surveillance. It’s like they have a one mile perimeter around you and they maintain that you see, but if you are clever you can move to the edge of the perimeter without them knowing what you are doing, and then break through it and hide or some such thing. The voices helped me with all that, they showed me what they were doing and told me how to escape, so I did have a slight advantage over them. I began to maneuver myself quickly almost to a run, and I went one way and then another and, they did become confused and I did break their perimeter. They only had like ten or twenty cars and so I did get away from them, and of course, I will take full credit for escaping from the CIA, but they were caught off guard and had no idea what I was doing until I was gone. I was in alameda and I knew then that I had broken away from them, and I thought what shall I do, because all they had to do was watch the bridges and the tunnel, of course I could swim the channel itself over to Oakland. Yes! I formulated this second phase, for I had a friend who had an apartment along the Lake Merrit inlet and all I had to do was swim over and go up the inlet, I could swim the entire way and no one would be over there looking for me. Once at my friends, he could give me a ride out of town in his car and if it wasn’t so safe, I could hide in his trunk and who would think I would do that? It was pretty solid to me, I would escape yet. I went off to the shore and I looked back into Alameda and there were a lot of people looking for me, and I got a little scared, I mean maybe they had their authority by now you know? But the worst part, was when I looked over to the Oakland side of the channel. There were people everywhere along the shore. The Lake Merrit inlet itself had a bridge running over it and on the bridge were Caltrans workers, they maintain the highways for California, but they were all staring into the water, and they had these big one million candle power lights they use for their nighttime work, but they had them all aimed into the water. At the inlet itself is a little park and if you wanted, during the day, you could park your boat at a public dock, and to my astonishment there was an Oakland police boat there full of cops. Up to the left, along the rock covered shore were men with flashlights scoping through the water, and down to the left I saw the same thing. And even worse, there was a helicopter which had flown over the channel then, and I wondered, well maybe he’s just going somewhere, and at that moment, the helicopter turned on his spotlight and began a slow laborious search of the channel.

I saw all of that, and there was no doubt that these men were looking for me, and I was amazed, for me? Why? I was no one, I was no one at all, even in some giant federal operation, I would never have merited such a massive effort. What had I gotten myself into, and I started to laugh at the pure absurdity of it all, and I looked to my right and I wanted to show someone, I wanted to say “They’re everywhere”, but I was alone, I and my conspiracy, we were alone, just us together. I looked back at Alameda and they were fanning every street, it was incredible! It wouldn’t be long before they found me, and I thought then, well, I can’t escape them, certainly not by swimming, and I thought about everything then, and I knew that I was big trouble. I was in big trouble, I was an alien, who for some reason had been sent to live on the Earth, and I was certainly not wanted, oh if you knew the ways I have been treated. At the time, I had no idea of any of that, all I could imagine is that for some reason tremendous resources were being expended on me, and that I had only one hope, I had to leave town, then the state and if possible, the country. I tried to get away that night, and you couldn’t believe how they reacted, it was as if I were an alien trying to escape the watchful eyes of the CIA and the military, there were hundreds and hundreds, maybe thousands of people. I tried to escape them for hours, but it was impossible, and the way they were looking at me, I knew I was wrong about running, there was no where to run these people could, or would not go. It was totally insane, but there they were.

I remembered thinking I was in a bad ‘B’ movie and I went home thinking that there was no way to escape them. I wonder what that was about that night, I suppose they may have wanted to end their game, I suppose that much makes sense.

The next day the reality was not so funny anymore, my private nightmare wouldn’t go away, and they were everywhere, and they were not trying to hide it anymore, and I was terrified. I went over to the flea market and I told my friend John what had happened, and he didn’t believe me, I told him everything was for me. He said I had lost my mind, but only part of it, he said a major drug dealer and a little ring of pushers had been arrested that morning and he was wrong about the sweep thing, but he said that if I indeed had tried to escape them and they knew that, it would be wise for me to leave town, for good. Back and forth you see, assault and withdrawal, bad, then not bad, they confuse you, they explain everything, back and forth, growing each time worse, until you are forced to make a decision.

I waited a few more days, as a hero would in any proper ‘B’ movie, I waited and despite all the assurances of all those I knew, I could only think of the one man who had said, “You’ll do 18 to 24 months for conspiracy.” And so I decided I would leave town right away. I had my van, I could take that with me, and I would be able to sell my inventory in Oregon and maybe work my way up to Canada. But I had to leave right away and keep moving if I could, but moving I had to do. So, I packed a few things and I said goodbye to a couple of people and I gassed up my van and before I could even do that, people were everywhere, so excited, so determined, I knew that I would not be allowed to leave, but how could they stop me? They knew everything.

I got on the Freeway 880 heading North and in a few minutes I would be in San Francisco, and a while later I would be beyond the easy reach of these state gangsters. Like a guy in some South American country, or, I suppose we can say today, like some guy in an American country, for certainly, we on these two western continents now share a common brand of fascism. I drove along and they surrounded me, but what could they do? Could they shoot out my tires? That is what they did, and I almost had a big accident, I made it to toll plaza and I got out and I thought, I could fix my tire, save my van, or I could escape with my life. I spent that night over in San Francisco with my friends and flea market colleagues, Tim and Dana, who had just ‘happened’ to come along right then, on their way home to the city. In the morning I went outside and there were a ton of feds out there and I thought I’m taking a bus to Canada today. I walked down the street and the voices spoke to me and we had a very long conversation, and it was they who convinced me, I ought to at least try and save my van, maybe it was still there and maybe I could fix the tire, I could still leave town, if I were careful. I used to listen to them a lot, I thought they were angels and so I did what they told me to do.

I called the bridge authority and they told me my van was still there and if I could stay in touch with them they would allow me all the time I needed to get it, that too, I knew was never done. I went to the flea market and I told the one person I knew would help me, I told John and John and I got a couple of spare tires for a big truck, and we went down there and we discovered that my van was a special ten lug wheel with a very odd size tire. We had to get that specific wheel and that specific tire and John assured me, you stay here and I’ll go get these things we need. I watched him drive to the toll booths for the bridge and he spoke to the toll person and I then I saw him drive over the bridge, which I thought was funny, because they do have a turn around point if you don’t want to cross. I knew he wasn’t coming back and he didn’t. I left my van in search of these needed things, and I did see John later and he told me that I was in a lot of trouble, because at the toll booth he had spoken to the toll worker and they told him to wait, not to cross the bridge, not to turn around, but to wait, and he waited and out of the structure came a police officer in a uniform John didn’t recognize and the cop told John you cross the bridge and if you come back here to your friend, we will arrest you.

I got my van out of the toll plaza and for a week I tried very hard to repair it with the correct tire and wheel, and the night I was to get all those things together and make my final escape it all ended. I almost lost my life and there was some serious gunplay, and you know, I guess it’s true what they say about stuff, it’s all worthless if your dead. I lost everything I owned later and I can only say that those things don’t matter, not at all.

As for John and all of what he told me, I can’t be sure, he may have been looking out for me, or he may have been having fun screwing up the CIA and their operations.

That time lasted three and half months, which as I understand, it is the limit of their game, if you last that long, they will end it, you will have completed the gauntlet. Few make it, but fewer still pass beyond that last day, very few. If you last that long they will come along and speak to you in a harsh manner telling you all the crimes you are technically guilty of, but since they think you are a good man and the whole thing was just a big mistake, you have a choice…I never had the chance to speak to them, I was never offered their ‘choice’, instead their whole game blew up in their face.

It’s funny you know, can you imagine, hundreds of people operating in a coordinated effort to scare you, it’s hard to believe, even if you are in the middle of it, it seems impossible, but then, reality is reality, and no matter what that reality may be, it is not to be ignored.

I made it through their game all the way to the end, and then I beat them one step more, of course that wasn’t my doing it was the aliens, I think. All I can tell you about all of it is that it was a giant game for some people and it scared me very badly. I used to say that I left a part of my soul behind from that time, but I think that’s wrong. And I will confess, despite the absolute sheer terror and unpredictability of those days, that was the most exciting time of my life. And I confess, today, I love the game, and what sort of life would it be without it? Now, send me my spies, so I still know we are playing, and I promise you, in the end I will win this game.

Paranoia is just knowing all the facts.

--William S. Burroughs

Chapter Two

THE ALAMEDA INCIDENT

Well, here is the thing about massive projects, such as my CIA/alien affair certainly is, and that is that sooner or later, they will always produce an actual event, in public, for all the world to see. Such events are typically so extraordinary, that the people who see them cannot help but ask questions, questions which can never be effectively answered by any lie, no matter how well it is structured, it is an unavoidable fact of the world of secrets. Such events will be desperately covered up, with the ‘truth’ being told in multiple ways, ever changing, always depending, on who is asking and who is telling. I have had more than one such event, but the Granddaddy of my experiences was the thing that happened to me in Alameda. It was on June 9^th 1999 that the CIA operation, of which, I was the unwitting focus, unraveled in the public eye, with hundreds of witnesses present. That was in the City of Alameda, California. Oddly enough, and perhaps of no consequence, was that that day was my mothers birthday…

I had been over in Oakland that night with Mike Lopez, who had insisted that we repair my van back to operational condition. It was strange the way he had been so insistent, he pointedly told me, “Andrew, it’s tonight, or it’s never…”, and the way he said it, well, it was like, a double meaning, and I caught it very well. I trusted Mike and he knew a lot more than he said, so I relented. We walked so far and arrived in a storage yard full of different vehicles. Mike told me he had more than one vehicle in that yard and the plan was to part out his ‘matching’ van for mine. When we arrived, before we started any work at all, and in fact before he even showed me his matching van we were to part out, he told me he had something very important to do, that I should wait a few minutes and he would be right back. I said “OK”, and while I waited, I got a bad feeling. I was alone in that dark yard and it was already so late, past ten, growing close to eleven. I trusted Mike, but as I waited there, I thought about his background and all the sinister people he claimed to know, and then I thought, would he set me up for a bit of money? I waited long enough, until a good strong and healthy does of paranoia worked its way into my blood, then I left for home, waiting no more.

Only two blocks away, as I walked home, a very strange old Monte Carlo, full of four very wicked looking men followed me. Not exactly followed me, but rather, pursued me suddenly and on the next street, which was an awful, isolated, side street, they pulled up next to me, opened their doors and well, before they got out, some traffic just happened to come along…it was none other than two of the stupid little white cars that had been following me everywhere, one coming from each direction. Both slowed to look, with the vehicle on the opposing side, stopping. The men in the strange car closed their doors and with a look of frustrated determination slowly pulled away from the curb and went on down the street with one of the little white cars directly behind them, pacing them. I hurried myself off and away, down the street, across Fruitvale, across the train tracks into the dark industrial area next to another neighborhood, where I stood in the darkness, with a good clear view of the way I had come and the way I would go. I stood, straining to look for the unknown car. I had lost track of them and though they disappeared I knew they were somewhere close by, positioning themselves. It was a bad situation. I waited there…waited and waited for fifteen minutes, for twenty-five minutes for thirty minutes and then I realized something; the world around me had become silent, much too silent, something was missing. There were no feds anywhere. The little white cars were indeed nowhere to be seen and that was bad. It was very unusual for the way things had been over the past several months and I wondered, did that mean that something was being coordinated unofficially, perhaps involving that car…

I stood in the dark for a while longer, thinking what to do. If I went forward, it could be a trap, they could be waiting for me, but if I went back, I would be on Fruitvale, near the bridge to Alameda, where the street was very well lit and very isolated, were something to happen there, I would have no where to run, no where to hide, I would be a sitting duck. So I decided to press on, moving forward, into the darker neighborhood.

On the first street I encountered the Oakland police. I walked through a gravel lot and had just stepped out of the darkness onto the street, when out of nowhere, a black and white aggressively shot towards me, swinging around to face me from the side where they shot their spotlight on me. I held up my hand to the light and though I was maybe in a bit of potential trouble, I was still much safer, I smiled and approached the car. And I swear to God, when I moved, they panicked, speeding away faster than they had come, off, down the street and around a corner they went, with screeching tires and all. I was confused, but then I thought, well what was it to me, still I waited, looking around a few minutes, just standing there in the light. Soon I saw the police car again, this time they were creeping around a corner down the street, a block away. They had their spotlight on, looking hurriedly at the rooftops of different buildings. I was soon to find out what they were looking for.

I walked slowly down the street and as I cautiously crossed the first intersection, I heard the thunderous roar of an AK-47 being fired on full automatic. I know that sound from when the Los Angeles riots happened, they were the rifles the Koreans had typically used, always on full auto back then too. It was just a few houses up the street, I jumped and ran the short distance remaining, stopping clear of the street, behind a fence of the first house on that block. I listened as they fired again. I thought they were firing in the air, or maybe down another direction, but I did know, they had not been firing at me. This of course had nothing to do with me, after all, it wasn’t exactly the best part of town and there were some dope dealing, street gang, thug types two streets up. I had walked past those guys a million times and I guessed this was them in their own crisis. Still, it didn’t taste right, and with all that had happened that spring I was really uncomfortable.

I pressed on, moving down the next block where I heard yet more gunfire up that way. There was now more than one person firing, but they were firing the same kind of rifle in the same way, full automatic, and that too, didn’t seem right. I stopped and from around a corner I peered up that way. I saw the flashes of a third rifle being fired from the roof of the last house on the right, I thought I had seen the rifle with an unknown arm holding it straight into the sky, but I couldn’t be sure. I thought I could see the siluets of people on every roof, but again I couldn’t be sure. And then I did see some actual people, I saw the local dope dealing gang types standing on the sidewalk, right there beneath those buildings, and don’t you know, they were drinking beer, laughing. It was some kind of insane party, yes I supposed so, and then they saw me looking at them. And do you know, it was so very odd, because when they saw me, they stopped laughing and their smiles vanished, transformed into anxious looks of unknown worry. I didn’t know what they were doing, but I did know that they didn’t like me looking at them and it might just become ‘my undoing’ if I remained there. I immediately moved on, confident that that bizarre weirdness had nothing to do with me. As I continued more and more fire came from that street, all the same weapon type and all on full automatic. I had heard fire from perhaps ten different locations, all sounding identical. It was really creepy, and nothing is so creepy, as creepy gunfire, I tell you that much for certain.

I was pretty scared and just as I worried about heading over the high street bridge into Alameda, thinking all the thoughts one might think at such a moment, I realized, I was just a couple of doors down from Darby’s place. Darby was a guy who sold at the flea market and though I didn’t know him well, I could certainly get some refuge from him in this little crisis. I could use his phone, maybe arrange for a ride home or something. So I walked over to his door and happily saw his lights were on and heard voices inside.

Darby opened the door and his wife was over in the kitchen out of my view saying something in a rather loud voice to him. He shook his head and stepped outside closing the door behind him. He sighed and said she was fighting him and stuff like that, then asked me, what was going on? Before I could explain anything, the gunfire roared to life again, with more rifles than before. Darby’s eyes grew wide as he looked in that direction. I turned my head that way too and surveyed the intense sounds of what could easily have then been up to twenty rifles firing all together and all the same. So many at that time, I could no longer separate each individual sound, it was just incredible. My explanation was little necessary, as all I said was “Darby, something’s going on tonight and I can I come in your place for a few minutes, maybe we could call the police?”. Well, do you think that motherfucker would let me into his place? Nope! Instead he looked surprised that I should wish to call the police, or ask to wait in his home, I mean why would I say any of that? He then told me that he had called them three times already, but they wouldn’t come out. Well, maybe, but could I hide inside for a moment anyway? No, he was fighting with his wife and this gunfire had nothing to do with me anyway, I should just ‘go home’.

How funny, you know. I didn’t believe Darby and I started to get that icy fear again, so I told him, that in fact, I was looking for my friend Mike Lopez and that there was a far more serious situation that seemed to be coinciding with this seemingly unrelated gunfire. I was just worried for Mike you see…And at that he told me that Mike was over in Alameda, but I should not tell anyone that he had told me this. I suspected Darby, but I didn’t understand how he could be involved in something like all that had happened to me, I didn’t quite know what I should do and for that moment I hesitated. I guess I looked confused to Darby and perhaps he thought he might try and convince me of something else that would get me to continue home, I can’t say for sure why, but he then proceeded to tell me another entirely different and very weird and scary story.

Darby told me that the people firing might be related to his ex-girlfriend and that she had threatened to hurt him just that afternoon. Stupid? Well, I had heard that he had been dating a woman who was said to be heavily involved with gangsters and was actually a terrible gangster herself. I had heard this for six months from various people, she was very young, crazy and had very quickly become notorious for insane things, just like the one I was witnessing. Darby said he knew it sounded crazy, but I should believe him and get the hell away from him before anyone shows up right there. He really was scared and ran inside and told me to get the hell away before I got hurt, don’t let them think you’re my friend. Yeah, the people I knew had over the last six months told stories about the young psychopathic woman, who was no doubt destined to destroy herself from her increasingly insane adventures. They didn’t tell me, rather they talked among themselves, just quiet enough to believe and loud enough so I might hear, and over time I had heard that Darby had been dating that woman. I supposed it could be possible, it didn’t explain the car nor why the Feds had disappeared nor did it explain how all the rifles could be the same make, I mean gangsters have their own guns, you know, and they don’t hire day laborers and hand them each a rifle from a box you know…of course there are such agencies that could and do essentially just that. But to intimidate me? No, at the time it made no sense.

I decided to go home, it was safe then, but you know, as I started walking, I right away started thinking of Mike Lopez and I was thinking, maybe it was Mike who was in fact, in trouble. I couldn’t shake the idea that he might have been looking for me and be in real danger. I stepped a few more paces and thought of how mike had spent an entire afternoon calmly telling me how he had once been pursued, arrested and prosecuted, unsuccessfully by the FBI and how he did know about a giant federal investigation that seemed to come from no where a few months before and was pinning down everyone in Oakland. He had befriended me and had assured me of my safety, he had put himself on the line for me, and here I was, to ‘just go home’. I could not, and oh, I felt sick to my stomach, but I thought, maybe I could just take a quick run back and see if I could find him. I turned around and began down the street once again. And don’t think for a moment that I was a fool, nor say I was anything other than a loyal friend and a man who will do what is right. And what is right, always sucks. However as I write this, I can’t help but think we have all seen this movie before, and it’s like that you know, the scary music and the killer lurking nearby, but of course, as it is in all the stupid horror movies, the actor will always do the stupid, the logically wrong thing. So it was, that only one street away, for the second time in my life, I had the honored privilege of being shot at, this one was however a lot closer though.

I walked down that first block and wouldn’t you know, the racket of all those guns grew silent, so suddenly. And at the corner, I walked slowly out into the street checking, of course to make sure it was clear, which it was. No one was down there anywhere. As I strolled so happily then, a loud boom rang out and a bullet whizzed over my head skipping on the pavement a few feet away. I looked up at the building on my left, and there upon the roof was a guy looking down at me, who held in his hand what was very clearly a pistol, though it was pointed, safely, off to the side, away from me. I still thought, well, this has nothing to do with me, this guy probably didn’t even see me, he was perhaps, as stunned as myself. I thought I ought to say something, to him to let him know that all was just fine and dandy lest he get upset and decide to do something for real. Now, I looked in this mans eyes and I smiled a big bright smile so he would know I was friendly, and just as I was about to speak, man did he flip out or what! His face changed, it’s expression grew into something really scary, and he turned that pistol right at me, so fast that all I could do was duck, as the bullet he fired flew past, not exactly over my head this time, but actually, right where my head had just been. And you know what? That was for real. And no matter what anyone will ever tell me from here to the end of time, that guy tried to kill me. I know it and he knows it, wherever he might be.

So I ran that whole block, and while I ran a yellow Mercedes full of these amused Mexican guys drove up from the waterfront and down along side me. They called out to me laughing and said, what I think was “Hey Andrew, do you think you can run any faster?”. I stopped running to see who they might be, but they only looked away from me, laughing a bit less. I must have been mistaken, perhaps in my terror I had heard something I wanted to hear, I don’t know, you know? They slowed and I walked ahead, past Darby’s and on to the corner. They drove slowly behind me in the street, and when I past into the intersection they came right up next to me and stopped, but not looking at me, and they didn’t seem to menace me at all, and then I saw, that to my right in the street, came the man who had just shot at my head, but he wasn’t laughing. He still held the gun in his hand, and there he stopped, just looking at me. I hurried myself away, and do you know that man got into that yellow Mercedes, which then drove on past me. I was a bit more than confused, for at that moment, I didn’t understand how if he had shot at me just before, then why not now? To answer that question clearly for you reading this today, I hypothesize, that he had been given the secret authority to kill me, but only if he could make it look like an accident or something explainable. When he shot over my head, I looked up at him, and he would always have been able to say that I had used my alien power to attack him, or some such fear based excuse for ‘accidentally’, blowing my head off.

I walked down to Park Street and hurried to the bridge on my way home. Then I saw the Monte Carlo I had seen earlier. And oh yes, they saw me too. They slowed down while I started kind of running nowhere, since they were actually ahead of me at that moment. I suppose they pondered the opportunity and decided to wait for something better, so they suddenly sped off turning to the right on the first street after the bridge. I started running much faster then, you know, thinking that, well, they would be back. Now, on the other side of the street coming to me was a small little 1970’s fiat sedan or something like that, it slowed down almost to a stop, while the men inside were pointing at me and frantically looking all around. Oh yeah, this was not over, a bit weird sure, dangerous still, but definitely not over. They too drove on past me turning off to their first right.

I ran the rest of the way home, or almost home, which was at that time the small room I was renting over a bar called, McGee’s. It’s still there, right on Park street, I lived in the first room upstairs on the right, number nine. Instead of going up to my little room, I went into the bar hoping to find some kind of help. Inside, there were only three people in the whole place, the bartender and two customers. I recognized one of the customers as a coworker from my last job, his name was Sean, and he was renting the room right next to me. I thought I would tell him what had happened to me though none of them could really help me. I spoke to him and told him what had happened. This never works by the way, just in case you ever find yourself in such a situation, remember, you are alone, no one will help you and in reality, no one can help you, after all, people have guns and want to shoot you. All you can do, is run away or seek a too public location, as you could find, I was better out on the street than in the stupid little bar. Now, if the police have decided to either participate or just turn their backs on you, well you are really screwed then, all you can do is try and run away and hide. I would like to point out, that if however, I had been armed that night, all that stupid chasing would have been impossible since those men would not have dared approach an armed individual. It would have dramatically affected their attack, as I could have defended myself, very well. There would have been no following me through the darkness or anywhere for that matter, as an armed individual who you are attacking, will attack back. Always be armed. At that point in the bar I would have needed nothing more at all, save a beer perhaps.

I tried to call some people I knew, to try and get an idea of what I might do, no one was home, or in one case when I called my ‘good friend’ Don Fragoso, a stranger answered the phone and told me he was not available to come to the phone right then. I finally called one really creepy guy who knew Rueben very well and I asked him if he could help me, and he replied, “Andrew, where are you right now?” and I thought not to say, I mean if a man is going down and favors are being credited all over the place, well you know, better not say. But I did, sort of sadly and he hung up. That worried me a bit, but you know, what would he do, send more killers? Maybe.

I tired then to speak to the people in the bar again, perhaps only convincing them that they were becoming in danger, while I spoke they nervously looked outside and saw the assassins were outside walking by the window looking in repeatedly. They even opened the door and looked inside, only to step back out again. Of course, I want to add very briefly that if I am an alien and I probably am, then these three, or at least the bartender and my next door neighbor, must have been employees of the evil Machine itself. That would have made them participants in the hostilities of those few months prior to that moment as well, in short, they were evil conspirators who were ‘in on it’. I ran out of change and the bartender refused me the use of his phone, insisting I call 911 on the payphone, nor would he break my cash down. He and the Sean character were less than friendly and not at all surprised by what I said, and not really frightened by the all to apparent men outside. They were however, strangely awkward as to my presence and I did see them as they frantically motioned to each other, speaking harsh brief words of what seemed really half words, though with plenty of meaning, even to me. At that time I didn’t entirely understand, but I did see all that. And I do have lot’s to say about them and such trash, but I’ll save that for later. It was suggested then that I should simply call the police and so I did. Oh yes, and wasn’t that fun, for sure our public servants would assist me, no? No!

I called the 911 operator and you know what she told me? Since I was shot at in Oakland, I would have to call the Oakland police. I didn’t have any more change on me, and the operator couldn’t or wouldn’t transfer me over to them, and rudely suggested instead, that I walk back across the bridge into Oakland and call 911 from a phone over there. Now of course the odds of the operator being part of this plot seemed a stretch, but the idea was growing inside me. I spoke very slowly and calmly, so as not to offend such an important person, giving her all the benefit of the doubt possible, and explained, ‘they’ were outside right now. Still she insisted I go outside, walk over to Oakland and could waste no more time with my call, and hung up. Yup, she hung up on me, and you know what? That really, just doesn’t happen, not ever. Not unless they know who you are, and have an opinion as to your situation. And wow man, I couldn’t believe it, I mean how could this be possible?

By then, the thought had fully developed into a firm belief, that the feds had concluded their ‘big investigation’, and that I had been technically cleared, however, since the authorities blamed me for the whole mess, but you know couldn’t do anything, they must have then, decided to permit, whatever local gangsters had been injured by my letters, to simply kill me if they wanted. That was my total conclusion right then. It still makes sense. The Alameda police, I had often heard in whispers, were involved in protection rackets with the local drug trade. It was said they would be nice enough to you in ordinary circumstances, but were very much part of the underworld. And right then I knew that was true and there I stood alone, having been held in trial, by gangsters and their friends in the federal agencies, I had been found guilty of being a nuisance and a trouble maker. I thought, if only I could tell them, my side of the story, if only they knew the truth, if they knew why I had sent the letters, if only I had that small chance, then surly they would let me go, they would let me live. I never really told anyone my side of what had happened, I never wanted to discuss it with anyone, after all, I never thought it would come to this. My silence had brought this to me. I was held in a trial where I had not been permitted any defense, and for those of you who are unfamiliar with the important term, it’s called, The Due Process of Law. Frequently derided in our society, but we forget our own history, in America we always held people in trial, with no defense, with no charges even, we held people demanding an explanation of themselves, yet even refused to say what needed to be ‘explained’. Remember the famous ‘Witch Trials’, they were real, that is our history, it is our way. The constitution changed all of that, really for the first time ever. Americans hated the constitution, and they have always derided ‘the rights of criminals’. Yeah, it kind of takes a big event like being burned at the stake alive to fully appreciate the meaning of the words DUE PROCESS OF LAW.

Now, I did try again, I thought if I could speak to a detective in the Alameda police department, I would be able to explain, and that was what I had to do. I knew that if I spoke to such a person my story would contradict what they had heard and I thought it might just be enough for them to stop this before it got too far. I knew I could talk my way out of this, if only I had a chance. I called 911 again and this time I insisted to the same operator, that she knew perfectly well who I was and that she better not hang up on me. I told her she had heard something and that maybe it was a lie, I was in real danger, and I wanted to speak to a detective right then. I also told her if she continued, she would be a party to whatever happened and she had better not do any such thing, that she had just better make sure she knew what was really happening. I yelled at her, and you know, I think I just maybe scared her with all I said, because she relented and agreed to transfer me over to said detective.

So I was finally on hold with a chance to talk my way out of this terrible mess and then I heard a voice, no doubt it was the aliens. I stood there on hold, watching the guys outside as they discussed among themselves whatever people like that discuss at such times, and then ‘it’ said to me; “OK Andrew you listen up, and you listen good. Now the guy you just called up in Berkeley, he’s called some awful people he knows up in there and he’s told them where you are and now they are coming here. When they get here there gonna kill you. Now the guys outside are scared to come in and so you watch and here is the way it’s gonna happen; there will be four of them, two men and two women, all black. The men will walk ahead while the women fall behind, the women will put their hands in their purses and watch the other people, the men will come straight to you, and you listen and you look right here at the end of the bar…”, I watched as I saw an invisible line be drawn from the end of the bar and down across the floor. The voice continued; “OK, when the first guy crosses this line you have to understand, that you will have just a few seconds left to escape, but if you wait until the second guy crosses this line, your time will be over and you WILL DIE.” Wow man…I tell ya, I’ve heard’em my whole life and they have never, ever said anything like that before, never so concise and so absolutely terrible.

While I was thinking about all that scary stuff, I ‘received’ a kind of ‘thought form’, which is like a telepathic idea, but too complicated for words. What I got was basically the theory of what a person must do when there is a chance their life might be in danger. You see, no one wants to jump around and scream and shout, it looks foolish, and so most people don’t and when the occasion arises where they really should, their fear of embarrassment holds them back and thus, seals their fate. And at what percentile chance of our lives actually being taken are we then supposed to react? Is it one percent? Would that be enough? And without anything being said, I knew that if those four people walked in the bar, the chance of my life being in danger was way over one percent, and I would have to run like hell.

And wouldn’t you know, just a few minutes later the door opened, and in walked the four of them, just as the voice had told me they would! And it was strange, like a nightmare dream, while I watched the women fall behind the men and put their hands in their purses, and the men, with their eyes focusing straight on me, walked coldly forward. I heard the voice then, it said; ‘Run Andrew, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!”. And I waited until the first man crossed the line, and then, as if with a kind slow-motion, I watched as he stepped closer to me and the second man approached the line. And in my mind I heard them scream “RRUUUNN, RRUUUUNN, RRUUUUUN”…and I waited just a moment more, as the second man had almost reached the line, the first man, lifted his hand up and reached into his jacket, and that was enough for me, and I ran like HELL!

In a heartbeat I was out the back door and over the back fence. I stood then in a well tended garden, which belonged to a Buddhist Temple situated on the property next door. I looked around and among the buildings I saw a structure that looked like a housing set up for the monks, luckily enough there was a light on and I saw shadows moving inside. That was good luck so far, and then from the other side of the fence I heard footsteps on the wooden back stares of my building. I stood in the darkness listening, perhaps it was my neighbor and the bartender, but then I heard low murmurings of unknown voices, and yes, it was in fact the men who had just come inside the bar, they indeed had pursued me outside. I scurried across the grass and through the trees over to the house.

You know, it was kind of strange, and I really didn’t and don’t know what to say, because you see, I called out hello and knocked on the door of the house, and do you know what I heard from the inside? Well, I‘m kind of embarrassed to even remember this part, cause you see, the guy inside answered back to me in the worst kind of sissy, woosie, voice I think maybe I have ever heard in my life, and for a moment I even thought it just couldn’t be for real, he must be joking. He said ‘oohh, please don’t hurt me…Please go away…ooohhh” and you know I said “can you just call the police?”, but the guy was crying inside as if he were totally terrified, and answered back that he had no phone, which I know was not true. I mean really you know, Buddhist are supposed to be detached from life you know, they are not supposed to be girlie cowards, you know, they set themselves on fire and cool stuff like that, right? In order for me to have any faith in mankind at all, let alone our Buddhist friends, I simply have to assume he was part of the conspiracy and thus, was deliberately uncooperative and, overacting. Course you never know, you know?

I looked around and pondered my fate for a moment, and as I did that, the voice spoke again and told me that I ought hurry over to the police station itself, I should, just run over there on foot, but I had better hurry, because the police knew what had just happened and have decided to abandon their police station in the event that I showed up there. I had very little time to catch them. I looked over at the house next door and it leaned against a fence and some debris, I thought if I were to climb it, I could run across it’s roof and jump to the next one and so on down the block, thus avoiding the lurking assassins on the street. It was a brainstorm! And I did just that, almost all the way to the corner. Yeah and you know, I heard people inside those houses to, and despite my fear, it was all very interesting, I heard one woman scream in terror inside “Harry, someone’s on the roof!!!” and a man responded with a clear irritation at the woman and said, “Well, they’ll be off in a minute”. See, that is they way a real man reacts to silly things like that, not with fear, you know? I was off that roof in just a few seconds and after a few more houses I had no more roof to jump to, but, I had only about 300 feet left to the station, which was itself just around the corner. I could sprint it, and once inside, what could they do you know? I would be home free…and so I sprinted out into the street and around the corner.

I ran that little distance and when I turned the corner, I saw the police station, so bright and shiny with all it’s lights illuminating it, like a pillar of civilization in a chaotic Hell. And then, while I ran for my life, I saw to my dismay, the first police car zoom out of their back lot and off to the right. Two men inside, and like a bat out of Hell, it flew screeching away, and God dammit! They were gonna do it! They were gonna leave their station empty, so I indeed could not find my safe harbor among them! I ran so fast, so very fast, and I thought, well, maybe it was just a fluke and they had a call or something, I mean it was just one of their cars, right? But then, as I crossed the street, almost to their front door, two more cars, with two more men each, screeched out of the lot. Yeah, that was not a coincidence, that was accessory to murder. So here is the way it works in Alameda at night, they’ve got twelve men on duty and at least one car, with two men in it, will be out of the station at all times. It’s interesting to some people that I should know that protocol, I find it remarkable as well. I heard that from a guy named Big Lee, over at the flea market in Oakland, and I never asked where he heard it, however, it was quite true nonetheless. So there I was, you know, and while I ran, I counted, ten men inside minus two, four, six, …four men left, and those four men must have been hurrying to their cars. So, I ran right past the front door, to the secure gate of their lot in back, and I ran through that still open gate and yelled “STOP”, very loud. I stopped running and right away heard the fourth car start it’s engine, and looked over to see it whip out and around a few other parked police cars and in my direction, and I smiled, because I was in their way, and they had to stop, right? Vvrroooom is what they sounded like as they came at me, man like uh, another bat out of Hell, and I can’t believe they fit that big car past me without hitting me, but they did, unless they passed right through me, which the aliens do from time to time on people they need to live. And you know I didn’t even have time to move out of the way, and they didn’t honk or say anything, so you know, you gotta kinda wonder…I don’t, but you can. So that was guy number seven and eight. But was I right?

I looked at the silent lot and at the station and I saw the door from which the police would leave the station and enter the lot. I walked over to that door and don’t you know, as my luck would have it, the door opened, and part of me thought I was about to be yelled at by all the cops inside who must have seen me on the video feed from all the cameras watching everything around their building. I was uncomfortable, but at least I would be safe, and one terrible fate would be over. I was ready for that…but instead it was guy nine and ten leaving for their car. They came out and looked at me, and I tell you, they recognized me, absolutely, one hundred million percent! And they were not happy to see me there. I started to explain my entire story beginning with the fact that I had been shot at and was being pursued by killers and that they may have heard plenty of things about me, but none of it was true, I could explain everything, I was not a gangster and was not involved in any criminal activity, all I did was send some letters complaining about someone very bad, and everyone is blaming me for all the trouble. That is the entire story in a nutshell, is it not? The first guy out the door looked at his partner and said “I’ll be in the car” and it was like that you know, these assholes had made up there mind about everything, and you know, that is really nasty. So of course, there are plenty of other little rumors and stories and things like that, which I have heard as to why they would do that to me. But I will tell you, the simple fact is, you don’t ever do that, I mean a police officer has a citizen standing before them, telling them their life is in jeopardy and they need help, and that’s the end of the conversation, no matter what other circumstances may be at play, it is unthinkable that they would independently make their own judgment and walk away. It is the very fundamental precept of our civilization itself, that the security of the people be guaranteed when possible.

So that asshole tells me to go inside the station. So I say ok and start walking to the door he just came out of, but he yells “Get the hell away from there, what do you think your doing?”. And I turn to him and say, “You just told me to go inside”. And yup, that’s the way it is people, cause that asshole then said “The front door”, to which I respond, like “…uh, you know, hey man, are you uh, planning to go back inside or are you still leaving”. It’s amazing, and he say’s “what are you talking about? I have a call to go on.” I tried to tell him come on man, there’s no one else inside, but he just insisted I leave the lot and go around to the front door. And I did ask him, “…but then are there other people inside? Cause you know I just saw everyone leaving…right, I mean your not the last person out of this building then are you cause you know like I said I’m really afraid of these people, and I wouldn’t want to be here left alone you know?” Yeah, well we all know, and I suppose we have heard things like this before, though I hadn’t, I had no idea. And yeah sure, he told me; “It’s our station house, of course there are people inside!”.

So, I walked around out of the secure lot and across the regular lot to the sidewalk, and of course before I even got to that sidewalk the last police car zoomed past me at a thousand miles per hour. And I knew man, as I hurried to their front door, that I was alone. And do you know? I was.

I stood in their stupid lobby leaning over their counter and calling through the window for anyone at all. They have this bullet proof Plexiglass separating their offices from the outer lobby and you will normally find an officer is stationed at the desk behind the glass. Where he sits is a portion of the window which can open or close and it is very large, easily big enough for a person to hop through, no problem. I did not go through the window, even though in their haste they had left it open. Of course, I thought there could be weapons back there…but, if I found any they would be locked up, and of course, you know the most dangerous place in any police station are the back rooms, out of the public view. And I was indeed alone in that station. A bit of time passed and I picked up the emergency phone they have on their wall. Another 911 operator came on the line and asked what my emergency was, and I told her I was in their station and it seemed I was alone, could they send someone, or tell me where to go. Yeah, that was really weird, the operator knew I was in the station and told me to look to my left and speak to the officer I saw sitting there. And it was kind of hard to explain because, something different was now happening, you see the operator was genuinely disturbed, only by the fact that I told her no one was there, and I added the window was open, and everyone had left, I had seen them. She was yelling at me, saying “WHAT, WHAT, SOMEONE HAS TO BE THERE…”, and you know it really wasn’t that she didn’t believe me, it was something else entirely, like she knew what was happening, but now, something was really wrong. This was of course the source of the great unraveling that night, and though I really don’t know the absolute truth, I speculate that the police were simply annoyed by the CIA and had decided to become a ‘missing link’ in their game, a deliberate sabotage, and this, I do believe, is what happened. The only problem is that the police were sabotaging something real, not that they had been told any of that, or so I suspect. And in retrospect, what they did was pretty cool actually, if indeed that is what they did, though, at the time it was pretty tough for me, and later led me to the most terrifying moment I have ever known in my life, still, if indeed they had ‘had enough’ of the CIA mistreating them, well…you know…been there, done that.

So there I was, standing in the lobby of that empty police station, having been shot at and chased…talking on the phone to an operator who insisted that I remain where I was, refusing to give me any other options, even refusing to tell me where the dispatch center was, shouting at me “JUST WAIT RIGHT THERE!” adding for comfort, “everything will be fine, someone will come along in a moment…you’ll see.” And then they did, but it was not the police, rather from where I stood, I saw outside the mysterious Monte Carlo from earlier that evening cruise slowly past, and I swear I heard it stop just beyond my sight. Then to make matters even worse, the stupid little white fiat type car pulls up right across the street and parks. I said “Oh no, it’s them, they’re outside…”. From the other end of the phone I could here a voice frantically saying “…WHAT, WHAT, WHO”S OUTSIDE? WHAT’S GOING ON?…” I dropped the phone, again, and for the second time that evening, assassins had interrupted my call to 911.

I watched outside as the men got out of their car and seemed to have a little conference. They had already seen me and I decided not to die in the lobby of the police station, so I stepped out the door and watched them cautiously walk towards me. I really believed, I had been left to die, it was terrible. I saw the Monte Carlo had indeed parked and it’s occupants were moving ever so slowly in my direction. As I watched the first man start up the steps, I jumped to my left over the flowers onto the sidewalk and ran across the street. And can you believe it, all these assholes started chasing me, like what was I supposed to do then you know?

I became more convinced that this was a professional money job, and these guys were trying their best to get me, only once I ran into the street, suddenly all the Federal vehicles that had been following me for so many months showed up again, and they joined our little chase. And now I thought that the feds had joined the assassins in at least the attempt to capture me, but then once I was captured, what would happen? Well, if the police left their station, and the feds were suddenly helping men who had shot at me, well God dammit I don’t care what you say about realism, or odds, two plus two is four. So the feds, who had somewhere given a wink and a nod for my death, had now decided that to jump in and help, I mean if I survived that night it wasn’t going to end so easy for them you know. And I knew all that to be a very solid fact by the time I had crossed the street.

I was up and over a fence, through a yard, over another fence, through another yard and out into the next street, which was momentarily clear. At both ends of the street I saw little white cars race to me, but before they could get there, I was over another fence on the other side of the street. I had a strange moment then, which I will remember forever, I can even taste the air right now, and see the light so clearly, like it was a moment ago. I ran down the side of someone’s house and through their backyard, and while I did, I heard a woman inside the house say to her husband, “Oh my God, honey someone’s running through our yard.” And you know, the way it was said was so kindly and tender, that I knew, if I had asked them to help me, they surely would have, and then I knew with a powerful sadness, they couldn’t help me, for what would they do? And I knew my chances of surviving beyond a few minutes, were very low, and dropping fast, I was most likely going to die. At that moment I knew I was totally alone, and knew these other things too, that I had never thought about before in my life, I knew there really was no government, just the same people pretending, and I knew that nobody really cared about any of it, all of what had happened to me, done for what, for nothing and in the end I was to die, by the hand of the law itself. I remember the next moment after that, I saw a tree that sat in that yard, it was a giant weeping willow, and there was a light shining through it, and as I ran for my life totally alone to an unknown fate, I saw that tree and I thought, my God, that was the most beautiful tree I had ever seen.

I thought if I could just make the shore of the Alameda channel, I could swim across to one of the many storm drains on the other side. In the darkness, I knew I would have been able to get away from them. So at each street, I then saw the feds were waiting for me at the point where I had entered the block from the other side, and to defeat this I ran sideways several houses each time coming out fifty or one hundred feet from their positions. And then somehow I was out of the houses and into an industrial park, and I had totally lost them. So this was easy then, I might make it after all. I ran on through some unused area of a factory property and suddenly I came out into the factory parking lot, which I decided to run right on through. But then, I realized with a very weird feeling, all the cars parked there were fed cars. They were small and they were big, but they were all the same white color, the same typical makes, and all with blacked out windows rear of the driver. Now I stopped then, and before I could think, a security guard from the other side of the lot came out of an office and yelled at me, “Hey you…”. He did start to come my direction like, you know, he was gonna show me who was boss, but when I looked directly at him, he suddenly stopped and he ran back inside, locked his door and went into another room. Quite clearly he had recognized me and gone to call the people who were chasing me.

I went back around behind the factory thinking perhaps I might escape another way, but you know what I found? Well, I ran down the back of the factory and where it began on the property was an odd looking wooden fence against the property line, which provided a small lane between the fence and the factory. But the funny thing was, the fence was about maybe twelve feet tall or so, with slats that were perfectly flush against each other, so there was no way to hop it and no way to clime it. I’ve never seen anything like it. Of course that couldn’t go on forever, right? Well, I ran down to the end of that lane, maybe one hundred feet, and the weird fence, went the whole way and then cut over to the wall of the factory. Now I was at a dead end and there was no where to go. Of course there is always some way to go, or something to do right? It’s just that those are the least successful, you know? On the wall of the factory up at about eight feet, was a window made of three small pains of old 1940’s plate glass. From the hinge a very small triangle of metal protruded out, and I had already decided it was not possible to jump up there and break the window by supporting myself against the wall with less than half of one hand holding that small triangle, no I had seen it right away and it was too difficult. I had to go back, and I turned to do just that, when I heard a whole gang of people walking down that way and I even heard a voice I thought must have been the guards say, “He went right down here…”

Ok, so I want to add that that factory was really big, and inside all it’s giant overhead lights illuminated it. I also wasn’t sure, but there was a large complex of factories that ran all night long, and I thought this was perhaps one of their buildings. It’s funny you know, because though I saw all those expensive lights on, I couldn’t hear any sounds from that building. I did hear the distant sounds of that complex though. In my need to escape then, I did jump up to that window, but I fell, and man if you ever have to do something where your life depends on your success, it’s really disheartening to fail. And I jumped again, and this time I held that stupid little triangle, and I broke all three pains of glass with my left hand. And then I tried to break the cross piece of metal between them, hitting it as hard as I could, but it was just a dull thud. I was able to squeeze through one pain though, and as I did, I thought well, I’m gonna feel that one later for sure.

So, I dropped to the floor on the inside of this giant facility and as I stood up, I thought about what I was going to say to the people inside, and of course there were people, there had to be, it was thousands of square feet, you could have put a shopping mall inside, it was so big. Yeah, and wasn’t that odd, if you can imagine, the room was empty, and not just of people, but of everything. It had a fresh coat of paint and as I ran to the doors on the outer wall, they seemed to be sealed shut, and painted over. Yeah, I don’t know if they were just locked or actually fastened, but they had not been opened since this room was painted, and you know where I was don’t you? I was inside their facility. I saw one small conspicuous looking door in the center of the middle wall, and I ran over and sure enough it was unlocked. I threw it open, and you can’t believe what I saw, it was another room, just as big as the first, and totally empty, with all the lights blazing away. I went inside and closed the door behind me anyway, to at least put a little distance between myself and my pursuers. In this second giant factory room, I found no door that could be opened. And I tell you people, I am a strong man, and these doors had been professionally sealed, probably, to keep it from prying eyes, just like that bizarre fence. There was no way I could find to enter or exit those rooms, save a window. I wasted way too much time though and I had to move. On the inside of the building was very conveniently a kind of scaffolding structure, which appeared to be the original frame. On the top of the walls, running against the ceilings, which were twenty-five or thirty feet high, on the East side ran were a series of windows, so I climbed on up and broke another window. On the outside of the building the wall was flush, and there was nothing to hold onto, or to climb down on, the only way out was to continue to the roof. The corner of the building was perfectly flush as well, and rose about four feet from the top of the window. For me to get on the roof, I would have to sit out as far as I could, then jump and turn and catch the roof, then pull myself up from there. It was an amazing maneuver, and I kind of wish I could see it on some videotape, but of course there wasn’t one, or at least none I’ll ever see. You will have to take my word, that is what I did, and there is no other way onto that roof either, which became another problem later. I would never have risked my life in such an insane way except that there were these guys with guns chasing me and I had to. But then, the chase ended, for you see, I was trapped, and there was no way off that roof except a special ladder. Or…to jump.

Yeah, there I was on that stupid roof, and I thought ‘well, I had better keep moving on you know, I can’t be stuck here, it would only be a few minutes before the guys chasing me found out where I was. I looked all around that roof and man, I tell you it was freaky, there was no way off. All I saw was a small utility line that came out of a hole at the top of the wall of the roof I was on, and it led across a length of about fifteen feet to another seemingly identical factory. I thought, perhaps I could cross it, but you know, I knew it wasn’t strong enough, there was just no way.

I had an excellent view from up there, I could see for many blocks surrounding the property, and what I saw was terrible. They were everywhere, at first, maybe I thought I saw twenty assorted federal cars, and an assortment of five or ten civilian cars, but then I saw more, and in the distance on the many streets further out, I saw even more, why they had to have one hundred cars out there. And I just couldn’t believe it, it was over, I was finished. There was no way I could escape, and I knew that among all those people out there, someone had for sure already seen me. And that was it then, I knew I was going to die. I knew it, like when someone points at the sky and say’s it’s daytime, it’s a complete knowledge. There was no chance of my escape, not even the most slight. They were probably already sighting me with a rifle, it would be any second now before I died, I might not even hear the shot. Yes, that’s right, I knew I was going to die, and in that moment, my priorities changed. Death, after all is just a part of life, we are all condemned to die already, and there is only one thing that any of us need truly concern ourselves with and that is the security and integrity of our immortal souls. It was the way I was raised, don’t be afraid to die, but just always make sure you are ready. And this was the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life, you see, at that moment, I was not prepared to die, and as I tired to prepare myself for my imminent death, I looked up at the sky and I called to my God that I had always known, but my God was not there, and in my heart and in my soul I was alone.

If you die in such a way, you may find yourself in some serious problems in the next world. You see, the problem is, that you can become lost out there and if you are confused as to what happened, you may never find your way home, your soul may be condemned to unknowingly wander the many planes of reality forever, not even certain of where you really are, what happened or maybe even who you are. Even worse yet, is the possibility of predatory creatures in that world attempting to capture your soul, for whatever reasons I shudder to even think, but you can be sure you would not be shoveling coal for a million years, no, if such a thing happened, it would be a whole lot worse than that. Can you imagine merging your consciousness with a super-being that was totally insane, and only wanted company? Perhaps, a shoulder to cry on? Fury and madness would be yours for as long as it took you to understand, which you might never do, especially if the creature had a superior intellect and understood these things, they could confuse your mind into forgetting again and again and again. You would not know who, or where you were, it is even conceivable they could keep you forever, you would eventually merge with the creature and all you knew and all you were, would be gone, you would become part of them and for certain, if there is a Hell, that would be it.

Forget about death, that’s nothing to fear, but the possibility of an eternity lost or alone or worse, now that, is something to really fear. And that is where those inconsiderate people took me that night. It was, and probably always will be, my greatest moment of terror, ever.

My story would not really be complete if I didn’t tell you the more interesting aspect of that moment. Up to that point, my life was fairly common, and by common, I really mean possible, everything that I had ever experienced was indeed very possible, even the government attacking me like that, was very much within the realm of reality. Everything that had passed to that moment, though, unusual as it may have been, was indeed, very possible, and we must admit that all of us have heard these sort of stories before, it’s all been done, you know what I mean? But at that moment, the moment I knew I was to die, well you see, the world around me changed and it became impossible. They might have let me go as it seems they did, but for my story to continue, everything changed, and in that change, the only real possibility is that I am a Hybrid alien, and that is impossible. Now, I suppose there may be aliens and sure maybe they have created a Hybrid race and all of that, but the problem is with the numerical possibility. See, if you were to pick seven people on the Earth, which is the number of Hybrids known to exist, well how could you ever pick me? I know it sounds a bit strange, but mathematically, the odds of any of us being an actual Hybrid are almost a billion to one, and that chance is so small, that for a specific individual, it becomes statistically impossible. My problem you see, is in the mathematics of the equation, I cannot be a Hybrid, because it is impossible for an individual to be a Hybrid. Unfortunately for me, there does exist one other possibility, a possibility that is so common, it in fact happens to everyone; and that is, that they did shoot me, and I did die, and this is what happened to my soul. The world around me was replicated exactly and to explain my death, I simply became a Hybrid. It’s a really interesting idea too, because it’s a far more likely that I am in some kind of limbo or purgatory of a merciful God, a place where those who were not prepared to die are sent, a place of spiritual renewal, a final place of preparation, a place of completion. At my moment of death, I was facing an evil conspiracy, and so it continued into this world, and when it didn’t make any sense, a new reason was created. A totally different world, designed for each of us to play a significant role, designed specifically considering all those present, for what we need, not to adhere to some arcane reality. I don’t know, you know, I mean I really don’t know what to believe when it comes to this, so I pretend this world is real, and I accept that here I am, a Hybrid alien, fighting some evil nebulous conspiracy, and that’s all I can do. Although, it really has made me a lot bolder, I mean after all, if this were purgatory, it might be like a last chance to go to heaven type deal, you know? I thought for a while that if they were to kill me I would be finished with whatever it is I am stuck doing here, you know, and that’s part of the reason I have been able to fight them so fearlessly. The other part of course is that I really am fearless. Unfortunately, it seems I defeated them, and they won’t be able to get away with killing me. It’s kind of too bad you know, I tried very hard to upset them, and attacked relentlessly, and when they finally did try and kill me, they failed. See? They are total losers. Well, anyway, back to the story…

So there I was trapped on top of a roof, convinced that at any moment I was going to die. And then for the one millionth time in my life, I heard my solitary companions, who had always kept me company, and they said to me, “Why look over there Andrew, look at what we see”. And I turned my head, and I saw what they saw, and I knew what they meant, and what I saw was a neighborhood of houses and beyond them were apartment buildings, and I understood that even though I was alone on that roof, inside all those buildings were hundreds of people. If I were to call out, I might be able to save my life just yet. Witnesses, or perhaps someone to help get me off that roof.

I looked at the house directly below the factory to the North side. It was a very neat and tidy little house with a nice lawn and some little garden, and it was to the unknown occupants of this house that I called out for help. Hoping, beyond hope in my terrible situation, I called out with soft “hello”. There was no answer right away, and so I raised my voice thinking, of course, I really had no time for being polite and I said again rather loudly, “HELLO” adding then, “Can someone please help me?” I was thinking that perhaps no one was home in that nice little house, and I thought of the two houses on either side then, and I thought what if none of them heard me? And then a light came on in the center house, and out came an older woman of maybe sixty years. She said “Oh lord young man, what mess have you gotten yourself into?” She was a really nice old lady, and right away the other neighbors from both sides came out and that was basically the opinion of her, her husband and the neighbors from those next two houses. I tried to explain to them, they had to get me a ladder, one of those three houses had to have a nice tall painting ladder that I could use to get off the roof. And they were very friendly, and told me “look, uh well, we actually have already called the police and they’re coming out and well, uh, they told us to not do anything, and uh, well, have you done something wrong young man?” I started to explain to them in a frantic voice of honest terror, what was happening, and this was the thing, they thought I was crazy, and they all sighed a collective sigh of relief together and they declared, “Oh, it’s ok everyone, he’s not in any trouble, he’s just crazy.”

So, I kind a thought for a moment, basically the same hopeless ‘Oh, no” that I had repeatedly thought all night long, and then something new happened. ‘They’ found out where I was and from my view on top of that roof, all those cars began to close in and park very close by, and I couldn’t believe it you know. The little group of neighbors asked me what I was looking at and I told them about the feds everywhere and about the assassins everywhere. Normally, it doesn’t work to say “They’re everywhere!”. It in fact is the most crazy sounding thing anyone can ever say, I know, not because I have ever really said it, but because I have heard it from others so many times in my life, that same insane shocked “My God, they’re everywhere”. The people told me that everything was fine and as ridiculous as it might seem, they even told me that I was hallucinating and no one was out there.
All I could do then was to tell them my whole story and at least I would have some witnesses, and so I started, and I told them everything I could, as fast as I could, and they shook their heads at me. Can you believe that? So I got annoyed and I told them, “What, like anything I have said is impossible?” and I added “We have all heard these stories before, and if you guys don’t believe me, your gonna feel terrible when I get shot.” So, they got annoyed back and we actually started arguing, God it was ridiculous and I just couldn’t believe it, and they started saying, the police will be coming along, any moment, and none of it mattered anyway. And in those three or four minutes a few more lights had come on and a few more people had stuck their heads out their doors, not very many, just a few, to the right, and to the left, and maybe one or two houses on the other side of the street, I guess we were all a bit loud, you know. When they said that about the police, I got really upset, because you see, I knew the police were not coming. I told them the police were not going to be coming out and they had to get me off that roof, they had to, or I was going to die. I yelled at them, I begged them, I looked each one in the eye and said “For God’s sake please, HELP ME”, but none would move beyond where they stood. And I began to cry, because I knew I was going to die, and it was terrible. I did tell them then, that if they didn’t believe me, all they had to do was go and look outside at all the white federal cars everywhere and they would know the truth. They told me that the government wasn’t going to kill me for something like that, and I explained to them that it wasn’t the government, it was the people who worked for the government, and you know, that started to make them nervous. Looking back on it, I should have tried to jump off the roof, it would have been more logical, but I was pretty high up there…it seemed so high.

That was when I saw the first assassin get out of his car one street over, and now I was really thinking about jumping and the neighbors saw me running back and forth and they were screaming at me to “Sit down”, and “Don’t jump!” “IT’S OK, IT’S OK!” and you know what the guy did, he hurried around to the rear passenger door and pulled out a long rifle, maybe it was a Marlin or something like that, high powered and very real. And I pointed and screamed, “HE’S GOT A RIFLE! HELP ME, HELP ME, HELP ME!” And for the most part, they were so shocked by my display, they all shut up, and then the first of them went out to see what, if anything, I was talking about. Of course any such action at that moment was far too late, and the man with the rifle aimed that fucking rifle, right at me, and what could I do, I screamed as loud as I guess I could, I screamed, “DON’T SHOOT ME!” “PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN!” “DON’T SHOOT ME!” and then a general kind of shriek of a death knell. And then the man with the rifle lowered it’s muzzle, so that he was now aiming at the factory wall, and he made a kind fake motion of like the rifle jump as if he had fired it, and then he lowered it and let out a terrible little giggle which, though I couldn’t hear, I did see. I really didn’t understand at all you know, I mean, that was it right, he had me in his sights, that was the end right? He then leaned his rifle against his car and he gave me a very stern look and made a motion with his hands, which I thought I understood. He put one hand over his mouth and pulled it away very fast, and he pointed at me, and then threw his hands up in a kind of question to me, and then he also pointed at me and ran his finger across his neck, meaning I was dead. And he didn’t leave, he folded his hands across his chest and cocked his head to one side waiting, and I understood. He was going to allow me to plead my case with him, yes, that’s right, the assassin had some kind of honor code and would not kill me if I could show him why he should not. That’s what I thought anyway. What else could it have meant?

And so I began to frantically explain everything to him. I told him I was not a gangster and that I had written the 47 letters as an ordinary citizen seeking protection from the law, and that it wasn’t my fault that the feds came in and attacked everyone, see he had been lied to about me, I was just a regular citizen, and that the feds had given their ok to this assassination because they were angry at me for all their pointless work, and with no way to have any revenge, they were simply going to let me die like this. I didn’t just exactly say all that, but you see, since he was one street over, I really had to yell it to him, and it’s an amazing thing, that whole neighborhood was waking up then, all the lights were on and people started coming outside to see what all the commotion was.

Now, I’ll tell you guys something here which is very important, in life, we all know in our hearts what is real, and what’s not. When we see a doctored photograph, some believe, maybe because they want to and some refuse because they don’t want to believe, most will just look at it, not really knowing what to say. When we see an authentic photograph, no matter what it is of, everyone knows it’s real, and those who refuse to believe, generally say nothing, because it’s so obvious. What it comes down to, is a flavor of authenticity which is impossible to fake. It doesn’t matter what subject we are talking about, everything is this way, everything has small, imperceptible details, which number in the tens of thousands, and most, simply cannot be faked. And on that night, at that moment, we had crossed that line for those people, all those people out there they heard all that, and they were really troubled.

The assassin stood there by his car and his eyes got so wide he just couldn’t believe what I had said, so I knew it was working, and if he waited too long and the other assassins waited as well…well, it would be too late, you know. But he still stood there and he still had that rifle by his car, and so you know that door of fate, well it was still open, and so I just kept trying to convince him of all that I had said. I told him other things too, I said that if he just called the people who sent him, or if he called Ruebin they would tell him to let me go, I told him I would leave the state and I didn’t know anything anyway, and I would never testify about any of it, no matter what happened, and that everything I knew I had forgotten. Of course, this was a real problem for everyone in a square mile, see, what I was saying was unacceptable to ordinary people.

The ordinary citizens of Alameda, at least the ones at the base of the warehouse, still asked me who I thought I was talking to, and I did pause after a minute or two, and I scoffed at them, and I asked them to just be quiet so I could focus. They still asked me other questions and I yelled at them, “Go look you fools, you are the ones who are crazy”, and I started to feel a bit hopeful. I looked around, and all those feds in all those cars started getting out and walking around and talking to each other, and at that same time, just, a gang of neighbors came out their homes, it was like a movie had let out. Then I saw one of the coolest things that night, the one neighbor who had left the yard below me, had arrived where the assassin was, and he along with maybe two other guys walked casually over to that man. And it was really something to see, that ordinary man walked up to the assassin and upon his arrival at about four feet away, he looked down and he saw that rifle, and he asked the assassin, whatever a man might say in such a moment, and the assassin seemed a bit awkward and leaned forward and answered him, and while he did that, he motioned with his hands and tried to smile. And you know, whatever he said, the ordinary citizen didn’t believe, and he looked really disturbed at whatever he heard, and he nodded his head in fake approval as he walked backwards away from a man, that he no doubt believed, was a real assassin, and then he turned and ran away.

So the neighbors from all around started coming into the yard and many had tried to speak to those feds, and it was really amazing, because they saw all those people then and they couldn’t understand what was happening. The assassin guy tossed his rifle in the back seat of his car and a couple of the feds went over to him and said something to him and he drove away. I had now been on the roof for maybe ten to fifteen minutes, and below me the neighbors began discussing the whole matter complaining, where were the police? I was really scared still, because all those feds were still out there and I was thinking, like ‘what were they doing’, you know what I mean? I felt much better, but I still thought with all those people out there maybe they were still going to shoot me. I mean, they just wouldn’t leave. I spent the next half an hour begging the neighbors to get me a ladder, call someone else, like the FBI and another police agency, like the Sheriffs Department, and at the same time I kept screaming the entire story to all the feds, telling them that if they were not part of the conspiracy to kill me, they needed to help me and needed to know what was happening. I picked them out individually too, because of course a personal contact is so much more valuable in any sales pitch, and of course, for me on the roof, I had seen exactly who got out of those cars and called to them directly, avoiding wasting time on the neighbors. And there were so many neighbors who came out then, because you see, some of them had been told at that point it was a CIA operation and not to worry, but rather than be compliant with the feds, some of whom must have also been in the dark to try that, they began to tell each other that the CIA was outside, and the man who had seen the rifle, said so, as did many other people. And now the neighbors were really freaked out and at the same time, very excited. Some, ran back and forth to go bring their friends and neighbors to see the CIA. The feds stood in little clusters, and tried to ignore the neighbors, and it all just was ridiculous.

So I was up there for more than forty-five minutes and when it started to go onto an hour, the ordinary people stopped trying to reassure me, and someone said they called the Sheriffs Department, and someone else said it was time to call the FBI, which several people then said they had already done. Just when I thought they were going to go find a ladder, the Alameda cops finally showed up, and everyone was really pissed off and nasty to them. The naïve among my fellow Americans down there angrily asked the police where they were and why it had taken so long to come along, but there were plenty of other people who informed the police that they were finished. We called the FBI and we know everything! I wasn’t really so happy about that kind of stuff being said with me still on the roof. But, what I did, was ask those cops why they had left me, and then I told them the whole story too and that they couldn’t leave someone to die like that, it just wasn’t right. So, now, all the cops went out front except one who said he had to take a report from me, and I asked, as did everyone, why hadn’t they brought a ladder? The cops said they had to call the fire department and it would be a while, which really creeped me out more, cause they were still leaving me up there. And I thought about it, and I thought, if the feds after all this time hadn’t organized themselves to put an end to this, then I was gonna end up going off that roof and into the custody of the police, who I was 100% certain had just tried to kill me. At that moment the last woman who still couldn’t seem to believe what was happening asked the last officer in that yard, why the police couldn’t just go over to the next street and at least speak to the people, who I claimed were civilian assassins mingling among the feds, at least she said why can’t you do that much, for this crazy guy? And at that moment several of the neighbors answered her with various verbal assaults directed at the officer, saying basically he already knows who they are so why would he bother to interview his own friends. And the officer whose hands were shaking, yelled at the woman and the others, “Because they are not assassins!” And you know, among all of the shaking heads of the scoffing neighbors, I remember that woman trying to ask, “Well then who are they?” And he threw down his clipboard and declared “I’m not dealing with this!” and walked out of that yard. The woman followed and in a furious voice demanded “OFFICER WHAT IS GOING ON?”

I thought that what I could do, one last thing, was to scream all of my information as loud as possible, so that it would be harder for these assholes to kill me that night. So, I started with my name and birth date and I said my mothers name and her town in Oregon where she lives, and I screamed that whoever could hear me needed to call my mother and tell her I had gone into Police custody. I screamed the whole story, everything that had happened, from the beginning to end from the letters to the feds following me, to my tire, to the assassins, and concluded again with my name date of birth and some more information about other members of my family. I did that several times, and I saw lights come on so far away it was really making me feel a lot better, I was thinking it was gonna be ok then, I thought ‘I have won’. But each time I stopped, I would ask the ever changing people below if the ladder was coming, and each time they all said no, and I would get this sick feeling like, these people were still out there along with the cops and whoever else, they were all still doing something. So even if it might have been mostly futile, I thought it might help a bit, so I would scream the whole thing again.

The cops had been on the scene for twenty minutes, when the first person down below asked me between my screams, if I worked for the CIA? I had no idea what they were talking about, because of course I never thought that it was the CIA on my case. I had always thought it was a domestic law enforcement agency, like the US Marshals Service or the DEA, or maybe even the FBI itself, but never the CIA. I didn’t even consider the meaning behind the question, and I told the people that that couldn’t really be the CIA, because it was just a case of local gangsters and drug running, and out of their scope. I told them that if the agents said they were CIA, they were just lying, and you know looking back on it, it may have even been some of the CIA agents themselves, who too, had been lied to, and upon seeing this bizarre display, which totally contradicted what they had been told, were not just confused, but very concerned and a little more than curious. The people below were abuzz with CIA this, and CIA that, and over and over everyone seemed to have something to say about the CIA, and it really made me so annoyed. I thought ‘how fucking stupid these people are’, to me it was as if they took a very real conspiracy and right away had the idiocy to jump all the way to the CIA, in fact, as I later found out, it was that the CIA personnel had already showed their IDs to many of the citizens in an attempt to calm the situation down. But none of what the CIA told the people jived true when they looked up at me.

The police returned to the yard then and told me that I was bleeding and they wanted to inspect my wound…just like that. I said I was fine, and they told me my arm was bleeding, and that so weird, I looked at my right arm and held it up for them, it was fine, and they said “Your other arm.” And I held up to show them and when I did, I saw it was just all tore up terribly, and there was blood all over my arm and my clothes. It was the windows I had broken more than an hour before, and my arm was still bleeding. It wasn’t so bad though, but the cops said I wouldn’t know, and they asked me if I was dizzy or tired, and if I was thirsty, which I was to all three. I asked the police if they would bring a ladder or if maybe they were still hoping I might just die on my own. Several people had, as I had said, been saying CIA over and over to each other and me, but now the police were there, and a mans voice from somewhere in the crowd off to my left called out, “Andrew, are you sure you never worked for the CIA?” And this time, the lead officer flipped out totally, turned his head and shouted “WHO SAID THAT?” But no one answered, instead they all just looked so meek at the cop, and I kind of thought that was a bit weird.

One last thing happened on that roof before the ladder finally got there, at about the time the cop had shouted at the unknown questioner, the same time that everyone stopped talking about the CIA. About a mile away, on the shore of the Alameda channel, I saw a light between two houses, and it looked to me like someone was trying to signal me. I paused thinking about it, but that really wouldn’t have made any sense, and so I assumed it must have been a navigation light out in the channel and it was just the light reflecting off the water that made it appear to be between those two houses. So I continued screaming my story, my only security along with details of who I was and all that had happened to me, which by the way I had screamed now, well over fifty times and maybe through the whole ordeal, one hundred times, my name, birth date, even my social security number, anything I could think to link me to the public. And you know people wrote that shit down, all of it. It was probably the worst thing that could have happened for their little ‘Hybrid alien’ project. And while I screamed for maybe the seventieth time, that light caught my eye again, and I saw that it was not blinking in a repeating manner, but instead, I realized it was blinking a coded message to me. It was a light so far and so hidden between those two houses, that only I could have seen it, and I stopped for a moment to consider that signal, and what it could mean, and though I didn’t recognize the specific signal on that night in Alameda, I knew what it was. It was ‘them’ and they were telling me to stop yelling, and then I finally knew for certain it was a really good sign, it meant I had really fucked them up by doing that, for them to respond in such a direct way. I considered if I should be quiet then and cooperate with men who were now trying to save themselves from a certain destruction, yes, men who had just a short while before been trying to take my life. And you know, from down below, the lead officer then asked me, in a knowing way that was an open secret between he and I, he said, “Do you feel better now Andrew?” And I looked down at him, and I answered him in that same secret way, “Yes, I feel better, much better now.” And then I raised my head and continued yelling for another ten minutes until the ladder came along. Incidentally, I saw that signal a second time in my life, during Army training, it is the official US military signal to ‘Stand Down’, meaning to stop fighting.

So when the ladder came along I crawled down it and they had a stretcher from an ambulance for me and there were these ambulance guys there and they told me we would be going to the hospital, and everyone was telling me that everything was gonna be fine. And I lay down on that stretcher and it was like heaven, I was so tired then, you have no idea, I felt like I could sleep forever, I went to sleep right away, it was great. And then the people around started yelling at me, and they were yelling at each other and at the EMT guys, just like the time I got shot and wanted to go to sleep, they were like, “Hey what are you doing!” and no one would let me go to sleep, they kept shaking me and asking dumb questions. I actually did sleep for a few moments, maybe they thought I would die from blood loss or something silly like that, you know. So, then all these people were yelling at each other, they were yelling this and they were yelling that, and they were saying how I was almost dead already and they didn’t want the cops to go with me to the hospital, and that woke me up. Up into the ambulance I was raised and these two normal looking EMTs told me the police wanted to question me on the ride to the hospital, and that the police had medical training for this situation and that my bleeding had been stopped and that no one was trying to kill me and I shouldn’t worry, and the EMTs would be driving the ambulance right up front anyway. My arguing was useless as were the many arguments of the civilians who saw this final outrage before their own eyes and watched as about four or five of those cops climbed into the back of the ambulance with me and closed the doors behind them. It was a squeeze too, but they really wanted to speak to me. I wish I had a picture of what their faces looked like when they looked down at me, it was kind of like ‘You motherfucker’. I started to sit up, but they pushed me down and then they grabbed my arms and legs and tied me to that stretcher. Then they cut off my clothes and I asked them “What are you guys doing”, they smirked and said “Oh it’s just to see if you have any hidden injuries”, and without looking, they said “You don’t”. I said, “Why did you tie me to the stretcher?” and they said “You’re a 51/50 now and by law we must tie you down.” They tied my left arm right where it was all cut up, and I said, “My arm hurts” and they just looked at me with that same ‘you motherfucker’ look and after a pause, to rub it in, said, “Well you’ll be in the hospital soon and it won’t hurt anymore.” I really had to think here because these guys were really mad and they were not going to let this end with me getting away so easy.

I said I was really sorry about everything that had happened that night, and I told them that I really supported local police and that I knew they had a lot of trouble and I knew how hard their job was and that no one really appreciated them. I told them that in my opinion for the service they provide they should never be made fun of for lack of work and that in fact their work was so terrible they should never be found anywhere but hanging out doing nothing.

They asked me, “What was all that stuff you were saying up there?” And I said, “What do you mean?” Then the one who was closest to me said, “Ok look, were not fucking around anymore, this is the way it is, we did not leave our station, do you understand?” I didn’t know what they meant, because of course they did leave their station, and I wasn’t sure if he was still trying to convince me I was insane or something, so I said, “Yes you did, you guys all left and I counted the cars…” He interrupted me with a furious bang against the side of the gurney, the part that my arm was tied to, which actually hurt rather badly, but I don’t think he intended that, and he shouted “No, we did not!” and one of the other officers was about to say something, but this guy motioned him to be silent. He said to me “We don’t have much time and it is very important that you tell everyone we were in our station, this is one thing you have to say. Ok? Do you understand? You were sent around to the lobby and inside one of our officers saw you, he was sitting behind the window, and when you picked up the emergency phone he asked you what you needed but you ran away, do you understand?” I hesitated and I thought about what he said, and I was kind of dizzy then and I was so thirsty you know and without thinking, asked, “What about your security cameras?” He very harshly said “They’re all broken.” Then I said, “But what about all the feds?” and he answered in the same harsh voice, “They don’t care.”

I thought about it, and though it didn’t make any sense, I said “OK, sure” and I was thinking then that these guys were still thinking about saving their jobs, and I thought that was odd, and with that a fresh coat of fear washed over me, and I started telling them very reassuringly that they had done nothing wrong, I mean given the stories they had been told and all they thought they knew, who in fact would not have done the same thing? I told them even I would have done this thing and really the entire matter was my fault, after all it was I who had written the letters, I should have known better. I should not have gotten myself involved in anything and I was really sorry for all the trouble I had caused. The officers then seemed very relieved and nodded shamefully at all I said. Two things happened then, one of the officers said, “Why do you keep talking about the letters Andrew, we’re police and we know everything.” I said, “Well that’s right and you guys do know everything, I just want to make sure that you understand it wasn’t anything malicious that I had intended, it was just to try and protect my friends.” And I added “I don’t know if you guys know Ruebin or not, but he is a real bad guy and I know that he lied to both the FBI and the other gangsters about me, I know it because when they arrested him for being the key maker they let him go so fast and the feds came after me the strongest right then. I also have a friend at the flea market who I think is an Oakland cop and he warned me about everything and even told me to get out of town. I tried you know, but that’s when they shot out my tires on the freeway.” They looked at me then, and I think for the first time they had an idea that something was out of place. I continued saying “Anyone would have done what you guys did tonight, yeah, don’t worry about it, it would be expected from anyone…” Then the second thing happened, and it was really incredible, I’m sure it must have been caused by the aliens, because as I had been speaking those last sentences, I saw their badges, and it was really weird, they were catching the light in a very strange way, no matter where they were facing they glistened as if some sort of jelly made of light had been smeared on each one. I paused in what I was saying and looked at each mans badge and they were all the same, I moved my head a bit to see if the light changed, but it did not, and I blinked my eyes and shook my head. That scared them and they asked if I was all right and one of them said in a panicked voice, “If this guy dies…” and another one said “No, no he’s fine, look at his vitals, he’s fine…” and another said “What are you looking at Andrew?”

It’s a bit difficult to explain what happened, but suddenly I understood something, they were police, and I know that sounds meaningless, but it’s not. You see, the badges they wore were more than just metal IDs, they were a promise to us all, a promise to maintain the world as we made it, that promise and the fact that they made that promise, is all that holds our entire civilization together. Some of you may disagree, but you are wrong, police are the backbone of human civilization, without them we have nothing. I saw so much more than that, I saw all the work that had come before to create things the way they are, I saw so many things and it all rested on those badges, and then I saw that the men who wore the badges were so far away from those who created our world, and the ideals they held. I saw all that and maybe a hundred volumes of the philosophies and ideologies of what human civilization is, and what I have written here does not do any justice to that moment, it never could. And I looked up at those men and I continued what I had been saying, “Anyone could have done what you did tonight and it wouldn’t have mattered, except you.” And inside my soul a deep rage burned as I looked at these men in stolen uniforms, pretending they not only knew all I had just seen, but also believed in it all as well. And I was no longer afraid of them, they were no longer police to me, they were weak and stupid, petty criminals who were liars on top of it all, and in that moment I hated them more than I have ever hated anyone or anything in my life.

I looked at them and I hissed those two words again with that deep hatred from my soul “…except you…” They were surprised because this contradicted what I had spent the whole time saying, and they said “What? What do you mean, except us?” And I remember it so clearly, it was so weird, I could hear the tires of the ambulance hissing on the pavement outside and as we drove, in that moment after their question back to me, the lights of the city outside shown in against their faces in an almost psychedelic way so that they were constantly changing colors. And I lay my head back in exhaustion against the gurney, my hatred momentarily gone, and I said, “That’s right man, anyone could have done that, except you, I mean after all, you swore an oath…” And the officers looked at me and the one guy who was angry before hit the rail of the gurney again and I think then he did that on purpose that time, and one of the other guys said something like “What about all that stuff you were just saying before?” And I told the guy who hit the gurney “You can’t hurt me you know, I’m not afraid of you anymore,” and I told him, “and you had better be careful not to do that again because this ain’t over tonight and I do have your name.” And I looked down at the other guy who had asked me that question, and I told him “Yeah, I said all that and I meant it all, but then I saw your badges and I remembered everything else and I remembered that your guys were once real police and that you once stood somewhere and you made a promise not to do what you did tonight and then tonight you broke that promise, and so that’s what I meant.” I was so tired then and I wanted to sleep, but those asshole cops kept asking me more questions “What did I mean, why did I say that? What was I talking about?” And so I told them, “Well, you see tonight, I came to you for help and you made an independent judgment of the situation, and you responded and aside from the basic fact that you decided to kill me, your decision to respond independently means that you broke your oath, you made a mistake and in that mistake you failed your duty to the City of Alameda.” And then I thought about it and I realized that of course Alameda is just a city and the cops in California are considered cops by law throughout the state, and so I said “Well, actually you didn’t just fail your duty to Alameda of course, but to all of California…” I said it just as a matter of correction you see, in the event they may have corrected me first, but then I thought about it, and I thought about all those things that I had seen when I looked into their badges, and I realized that in fact even though the police in California are not considered actual cops in the rest of the country with legal authority, I realized, that it was in fact their duty to America to uphold the law in California in order to maintain that part of America. So I told them “Actually, you failed your duty to America…” And when they hissed back at me I explained all that to them, and then I had another profound realization that night, just as Alameda is a part of California, and just as California is a part of America, well, the simple fact is, that America is part of the entire global human civilization and so I added “Actually, tonight, you guys didn’t just fail your duty to America, you failed your duty to humanity.”

And they just stared down at me like they couldn’t believe what I had said, and then the funniest thought struck me, aside from the fact that they were petty criminals, before this day, they had had it made, I mean they were cops in that cute little town and the way they had thrown it all away, not by committing some sort of small crime, but to have unnecessarily failed their duty to humanity. I thought it was so funny then and I started laughing at them, and I told them, “Oh my God, you guys are total fucking losers!” Yes, those were the words I used that night, of all my quotations and of all the dialog I have reported to you, those words I will never forget. Such profanity from me, is a bit uncommon, and certainly I would never dare say such a thing tied up in the back of a van with deadly enemies, and I really don’t know what overcame me, but that’s what they were, ‘Fucking losers’, and man, of the people who lost that night, they were the biggest losers of them all.

At the time however, they had no idea, and were infuriated by what I said, and demanded an explanation, how dare I say such a thing to them, who did I think I was? And this too was really funny, but in a terrible way, because I said, “Well, I used to think of myself as a loser, but you know, tonight I see real losers, and I can tell you, that I have never failed my duty to humanity.” I looked at them and I was thrilled by my discovery, I was not at all a loser, but in fact a hero, and I told them so, I told them I had tried to protect my friends, I had in fact done their job, essentially, and it was odd that it should be none other than the police who would in the end be the ones to try and kill me. I thought about it then, and I spoke aloud and I said that not only had I never failed my duty to humanity, but I thought of all the times in life when I was really needed, for real you know, and I was so excited, for I had never failed my duty to anyone ever. I shook my head at them and I said “Common, I mean you guys were cops, you know, cops, and you didn’t just fail some small thing or do a little teeny crime, you tried to kill me and you were wrong, you failed your duty to humanity.” I looked at their faces then and they were not angry anymore, but they were scared now, really, really scared, and I said to them “You know, you won’t be going home tonight, they will probably not release you on bail either…” and I thought about their circumstances and I thought about all the feds out there watching all that had happened and I thought how many of them also must not have known my life was being taken, and I thought about all those normal people who were all so overcome by conspiracy theories and panicked madness at what they had seen. I told the police, “You know, I bet you that even right now, some of those feds who didn’t know what was happening are following this ambulance. I bet even if you guys tried to walk away from the hospital or take a taxi or something like that, I bet they would follow you.” And I looked into the faces of those men and I saw the condemned. For these men would certainly do many years in prison…

They asked me more then, in shaking voices, “Andrew, tell us the rest of the story…you wrote the letters and what happened?” I told them “The feds showed up and terrorized me and arrested everyone, and then I was told to leave town and I tried, and that was ten days ago.” They still asked for more, all quietly looking at me, they said, “But there is more to the story, right?” And I asked them what they meant, little details, stuff like what? And they said “The feds Andrew, there’s more to the story about the feds…right?” I couldn’t think of anything and I said so. But then I realized what they were getting at, it was whatever they had been told about me, by whoever represented the feds to them. I said “You guys heard something, I know you did, and I know from what you’re saying now, you want me to confirm what you heard, but that’s it, and not only is that it, but tonight you will find out that that’s it.” I added for good measure then “You will find out that all I said is true including the part about you failing your duty to humanity. You failed and I would guess that within forty-five minutes you will know that not only did you fail your duty to humanity, but you also just ruined your lives.” One of them actually said, “What about the CIA and…” but another officer cut him off very quickly and I said “I really don’t think the CIA has been involved in any of this, but it was the feds, I know because I followed them back to the federal building.” And you should have seen their eyes when I said that, because that was really the end of everything they thought they knew and those guys were terrified.

They left me in the ambulance alone then as we had arrived at the hospital, and in a few minutes another cop from the Alameda police department got in to take my official statement and he had no idea of anything. I tried to explain to him a thing or two and he just shook his head saying “Yes, yes, don’t you worry you are a very good person and we all know that.” He actually said that to me, and then I realized he had no clue, so I started by calmly explaining to him that “He did that very poorly” and he soon dropped the act he must have always put on for dealing with a 51/50. He and I had a very real conversation and I asked him a number of things, I said I was taken off a rooftop accused of being delusional, and I said how about all those feds operating over there in Alameda for the last three months, and I said, I am harmless by all accounts, and why did your guys cut off my clothes? And I said look at how I am tied to the gurney. I told him, your fellow cops tried to kill me, and he said “Oh common, get serious” and I told him, “I don’t know what else to say.” I told him it didn’t matter, the feds would come along soon enough. He got out, and I waited for what seemed like forever, and then the EMTs came over with some emergency room staff and right away they had big problem with the way I had been tied to the gurney, and untied me and started to give me some blood. The doctors were so angry at the way I had been tied, they stormed off to find the Alameda cops and I heard yelling and words like “Oh that’s total bullshit!” and I heard the EMTs arguing with the cops and different people making different threats to each other, and I couldn’t understand it. They told me their was a delay because the hospital was so busy, it was the Highland hospital, which is the Alameda county hospital, and when there was room in a hallway they brought me inside. It was even a wait for hallway space.

I had been labeled a 51/50, and no one would talk to me, except you see the hospital was so full of people, you have no idea, and I noticed something, I noticed that all the cops from Alameda were still there, and I got someone to tell me, they were indeed waiting for the feds, but not the feds on my case you see. The way it works with our government, is that the local police have a liaison with the United States Police Department, which is who they can speak to directly. I was feeling much better then and I was really angry too, I was angry about everything, and the longer I waited the more I knew that whatever the feds were going to do, they were not going to speak with me. It was ‘cover your ass’ bigtime, and that meant they were actually going to send me off to some psychiatric hospital, like in the fucking Soviet Union. And guess what? That is exactly what they did. I yelled at everyone who could hear and I told my story to everyone who wanted to hear and you know it’s amazing, because the public loves a good conspiracy story, and so many people were listening and soon everyone was waiting for the feds, who I had said would be coming along. These two young men in their twenties went over and asked the Alameda police why they were there and if what I said was true? It also amazed me because all the cops from that shift were so concerned about what had happened, that now all twelve of them had showed up and stood off in one little area by themselves. I began yelling at them over and over how they had failed their duty to humanity. I yelled at them and it was my moment or better yet, it was one of my moments. Half the people thought I was crazy and the other half waited for the feds, who indeed showed up. Two officers in black uniforms came along and spoke to Alameda police, and they were not too pleased. When they came along it was like the entire hospital entered the twilight zone, because it seemed all I had been saying was true, and I added to boot, they knew I was not a 51/50, but they would let me go anyway, and soon different people were getting involved and it was a problem again. The feds held a folder and they spoke to the police in a small area they cleared off to the side of the waiting room, and then the fed who held my folder motioned to all the cops in a final gesture saying something I can only guess at. He then told them something and he pointed at me and nodded, and you know it was incredible, because all those cops looked over to me at the same time and I said to them then, I screamed it actually, “Now you know, you know the truth, the truth that I myself do not even know, and you know something else too, YOU FAILED YOUR DUTY TO HUMANITY!!!” And one of the cops he looked so angry and I screamed at him, “You don’t look at me, don’t you dare, LOOK AT THE GROUND!” And he did, and they all stared in horror, for I now know what the fed had told them, with no cautious lengthy debriefing, and no lengthy background checks, no psychological examinations, no investigations, and no preparations at all, that fed had spent three minutes telling them about the aliens and the hybrids and in the very end when he had pointed to me, that was when he told the Alameda police department that I was a Hybrid and that that, was in fact, the true nature of the case. No, it had not been as the CIA had told them, indeed, they had been lied to, and indeed it was much worse than anything they could ever have imagined, for on that night, they had indeed failed their duty to humanity. What an odd choice of words for me to use, and yet how so fitting.

The people who saw that had no idea of course what had truly been said, and they too presumed the police had indeed been guilty of some sort of criminal activities. Then this teeny old black woman who had to have been a thousand years old if a day, walked over to me and with a pen in her shaky hand asked me to give her my name and address and she would call on her congressman the next day. I did, and I thanked her, and she just shook her head at the police saying, “This is what they do”.

There were other people who were equally upset and there were other things said, but does it really matter? What is one or two lives anyway, when there are so many people on the street? We keep our lives clean and we avoid those things, as I myself told the Alameda cops in the ambulance, it was all my fault, for I should not have become involved, right? Maybe, maybe in Nazi Germany, or maybe in old Communist Russia, but in America, in 1999? The EMT who had ridden up front, the guy who had been so kind in fact thinking I was a 51/50, he heard it all and he saw it all, except the alien part. Before he left the hospital he came over to check on my vitals and finish his work, and I asked him, did the feds check out my story and he said yes they did, and I said “You know man, for no other reason than we are here together at this moment and that we come from the same ethnic background, take a look at what you heard and saw tonight, because I‘m not being released and you know I’m not 51/50, and before you go, look over there…” and I pointed at the cops standing there with the feds and I said, “Those men know the truth, and they will let me go off to some psych hospital and they will all be working so hard to save there careers and you know man, that ain’t America”. That EMT, that poor guy, how could he let it go? He first went to the FBI and got the runaround, and then he kept on going up, and with each runaround it just looked more and more like our government was a sick bunch of drug running gangsters all backing each other up, (which they probably are). But he was a tough guy and he kept pressing, and he went outside to newspapers and then in the end you know what happened to that guy? Well, no one ever said, but the way they looked when I asked spoke a thousand words, but Heidi said it best, ‘That poor guy…’. So do we kill our hero’s now? Or maybe they just imprisoned him since then, like the girl I’ll tell you about later. Criminals and losers promoted, hero’s and winners demoted…it’s not a good recipe America.

I was sent off to a psychiatric facility for four days for ‘observation’, and yes, I said four days. I can tell you a lot of stories and all kinds of different things which are interesting, but most of all, I can say two things, I was treated very badly for those four days, and when it was all said and done, I had been incorrectly, or more specifically, illegally, listed as having been committed to a mental hospital by a judge at a hearing. How do you like that one? A small error…however, California will not de-list such persons without a federal court order, and so I lost my right to own a gun that night, and that is a big deal. Yeah, had I had a gun in Alameda, it would have helped me, but had I had a gun in Venice it would have saved me from getting shot. Go to court they told me, go to court and fuckoff while your at it.

And that is your government.

Justice is incidental to law and order

--J. Edgar Hoover

Chapter Three

AFTER ALAMEDA

So after the Alameda thing I felt pretty bad. On one hand there is a great sense of relief that one gets when a large operation of which they are the target is terminated, and certainly I felt pretty good, but I had lost my van, my game and my trailer with all my gear in it, a total loss of six thousand dollars. The Oakland police had towed all of my stuff even though it was parked there legally and they had hid it in their records all as one car. It took me forever to find, and in the end they told me everything was gone ‘crushed for scrap’, also a lie. I would have to sue the city of Oakland. I thought that was payback from the Alameda police, which was the best they might do. No one from any agency came to speak to me, and I thought what happened to you America? How could such a disaster be possible?

That question was answered by many different people, no, I could not have my old job back, no, despite my excellence in performance, no, I could not have any ‘old jobs’ back, and no, no one could help me get my van back, not even the police, after all, it was ‘crushed’, right? That van wouldn’t have fit into the crusher machine, and an expert acquaintance told me they get sent off to some special place for scrapping, but not mine, it wasn’t worth it. No, I could not borrow any money, no, not even for new equipment, and no, no one knew where I could buy a cheap anything. Those no’s were always like the irritated no’s a mother might say to her child who had asked for the fiftieth time for a piece of candy. I kind of thought it was pretty depressing and I joined the Army, because, I don’t know, it wasn’t my idea anyway, to be honest it was the voices, and they spent a full week convincing me, so what the hell, everyone else said no, and they said yes, so off I went.

Incidentally, I did get an answer eventually as to why everyone was so mean to me after the Alameda incident, but it was only half an answer, and it came from Heidi. She told me they wanted to see what I would do in such a situation. So, I joined the Army, and the rank and file ‘they’ liked that a lot. I wonder though, what the other half of the answer might really be? Create a situation where it is ‘no win’ and see what the guy might do, a sort of experiment, and I wonder, because you see, I have been fighting them so much and when they shot me, I got the other half of the answer, they simply wanted me dead, if I could not win, would I maybe, they no doubt hoped, take my own life? I really thought about it, and Mike Lopez for no particular reason spent several hours one afternoon telling me that he had thought about suicide once and it was the cowards way out. He’s sort of right, today I think mostly though it’s the tired persons way out, and if your not too tired, take a few of them with you, or just take them out.

Well the Army was fun, but the 5 am thing really burned me out pretty fast, as did a few other things. The commanders of my unit all plotted against me and that was pretty tiring. You see, I made a big deal about being stuck in a headquarters company, I told them I wanted to be on a tank, and that my recruiter had assured me I would be on a tank, and all these assholes said no. And I happen to have this uniform answer when people do something like that to me and it’s ‘fuck off’. So, I told the Army it could fuck off too, and they didn’t like that, no not at all, but you guys, I was 29 and I had just escaped a giant CIA operation and the Army wasn’t very scary, nor was any of their stupidity or the petty manipulation. And once they started that fight with me, it was on, and I knew I would win. It’s actually sort of a shame, I really liked the Army, I liked the uniforms and the regimentation of life, I liked the hierarchy of the system, and over all, I thought that Army people were really cool. My friends back home, the same ones who…well never mind that, but they had all said I would hate the Army, but they seemed to forget, in fact, Army life is probably the closest to the way the aliens live. I had this big fight with these people who were not cool, and so I counter-not-cooled and in the end, they told me, fine, I could if I wanted, transfer down to the second tank brigade if I so chose, or I could leave the Army, it was up to me. The Army doesn’t usually give people such options, but I had really given them hell, and when they tried to manipulate me, you know, I just reminded them, gentlemen I am almost thirty, please. I thought about it a lot, and I decided that a career in the Army wasn’t for me, they also had demoted me one rank and it was pretty aggravating, and the guy who had given me my hearing was none other than the commander of the second tank brigade, so how long would it take to get it back you know? I wanted to go into the restaurant business and eventually own one of my own, an idea that I have held since I was sixteen. I thought about it a lot, and I then decided with the help of my voices, that I had learned enough in the Army and that to remain out for the duration of my contract would in fact only delay my true career. And that, along with the 5am thing, is why I quit the Army, and just so you know, I can go back in with only one waiver.

I even tried once to go back in, right when we were invading Iraq in 2003, I had seen these US POWs with their hands tied and I got really worried about them, and thought ‘you know I do have combat training, and maybe I ought to help’. They first told me I would have to sign up for a full three years if I wanted to be sure to go to Iraq, and then I ok, but then they told me I was on probation, which was another big problem. And two months later my own government shot me, which in a way makes it double funny, I mean, why didn’t they just take me back into the Army? Thank God though now, poor America, but poorer are our soldiers in Iraq, things there are much, much worse than they say, you should hear the things my voices tell me about Iraq, or the pictures, oh, my God! They show me bodies and screaming people and at night when I try to sleep I sometimes slip over there and I start to see the fighting and the horror! You have no idea, I see good people getting chopped up like I’m right there, sometimes I dream all night long. I know what I see is real, I see it, I can even hear the radios and I can’t imagine. We have lost so many more people than you know, and we have more men over there than you can imagine too, the voices tell me we maybe have up to three hundred thousand men there! Can you imagine? I wanted to join them?

Well, after I got out, I got off the airport of San Francisco and I walked out into that city. I found a hotel to live in called The Civic Center hotel, where a few things of interest happened to me. I lived there for six months and when I ran of money, I went to stay with my good old dad and his horrible bitch girlfriend. I had a lot of trouble with the work thing in San Francisco, every job I got had some really big problems associated with them. Now I am a simple guy, and the only thing I wanted to do was go into the restaurant business, which San Francisco is known for, I mean they have like a million restaurants you know. The first place I worked was called, The Bohemia, which was named after the famous ‘Club Bohemian’ in San Francisco and was owned and run by a current member of the club. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and I only worked there for three days so I don’t think I will say anything ugly about the man, other than he always fired everyone he hired, within the first week. I do find it of some interest that the first place I would work was associated with the Club Bohemia, a haven of mystery for conspiracy researchers. I didn’t know that at the time. Anyway, I had arrived in the city with lot’s of money I saved in the army so I wasn’t too concerned, and besides my expenses have always been fairly low, no matter what, I only spend about twelve to fifteen hundred dollars a month, which is pretty low, and I don’t conserve very hard, I go out and drink in bars and other stuff, you know I give myself financial freedom and it never hurt.

So first of all, it was the goal of the conspiracy to bankrupt me, depress me and then kill me, but how to bankrupt me? Well, employment was difficult to find, and when I found work, funny things happened that made it impossible to continue working there or at least to make any money. For example, I got a job at this place called ‘Venture Frogs Restaurant’ as a waiter, but it really wasn’t a good spot. And of course I could complain about this and that, but you know, some businesses are just run poorly, and that’s the normal world you know. So what can I say that is extraordinary? Well, this place had a very hostile workforce, where I was constantly insulted and demeaned as well as sabotaged. But you know, that’s life right? I mean if I were to tell you, that everywhere I worked that summer, I was sabotaged, how could believe me? Unless I were an alien or something with the CIA harassing me and trying to fuck me up you know? And so I will tell you here, that is what they did, every single job I had, was made impossible, and if I suffered through they would fire me for a made up reason, and that is how they did that. A series of part time tryout jobs, which lasted a week or two and then they were over, and a week or two in between and soon my money ran out and I had no where to go, so I went home. One thing I would like to say about Venture Frogs, was one night a bunch of people came into the place and there were all these whispers of ‘Secret Service’, all the tables were discussing it, and they were all dressed the same. The staff seemed to think it was a convention or something and I really don’t know what to say, but I had a table of the Secret Service people and they were all very nice and very easy and being a professional, I didn’t have any trouble. But the one guy who sat at the end of the table, he was their boss, or so he acted, and he told them this and he told them that, and you know I just want to tell you all something that may be of little relevance at all, but total relevance to some, I saw that guy again in my life, the night I was shot. He spoke to me after my surgery and I thought he may have wanted to say something official, he did not, he told me he was a doctor, and told me a few things that I really didn’t pay attention to because they were all lies, but it’s funny you know, my brother came to the hospital that night and this man, if you can call such a being a man, he yelled at my brother. Anyway, perhaps, I write the above just for him.

I did have a lot in interesting times for the short while I was there. I learned something new too, something about myself, which only has relevance on a minute personal level, except if I really am an alien, and so, just because I know it will really upset all the conspiracy people who have ruined my life, I am going to tell you. In fact everything I tell you and just about everything I do, is for the purpose of upsetting them. And it’s really nothing anyway, but it’s a secret and I hate those, so you know, I will now unsecret it here. I suffer from a very weird neurological disorder, and I’m sure you may think I have lots of them by now, but this one is very specific, it is called Prosopagnosia. And what that means is that, I am unable to recognize the face of a specific individual. There are hundreds of points on the human face which your mind records so that you may be able to recognize an individual if you see them again. I can only see just a few points at all. I even walked past my dad on the street once when he came over to me and nodded looking right in my eyes and he held his hand up to stop me, and I said very rudely, “Excuse me and tried to push past him”. He said something or another and thought I had done that on purpose, but in fact, I hadn’t even known it was him!

I didn’t discover this disorder in myself until 2000 while I lived at the creepy Civic Center Hotel. I had a few friends there and they all looked alike and you know over the years I have found that people think it’s unacceptable if you say hello to them and think they are someone else, so I have learned ways around all this. Ways to compensate, those I will keep secret, and that bothers them too. Mostly though, I compensate for this deficiency with the voice, and it’s really quite fun, because where I see ten points on the human face, you see one hundred, but where you hear ten points in a voice, I hear one hundred, and that for the most part is how I recognize people.

Yes, I started thinking this was unusual, especially after they had told me I was genetically engineered. And so I started to ask my friends, when you see me in the hall, can you recognize me? And how about this guy and that guy and that woman, and how about those people working in that shop, you know the ones who all wear a blue shirt, can you tell which one is which?

Yeah, and one of the things I have done is to go a university where they were conducting special research into this field and I took all the tests and that was it they assured me, I had this disorder, and in fact, they said my case was so good, or so bad, that it qualified me for an MRI but they had run out of funding and would have to leave me out. An MRI huh? But that would show me my brain, right?

I had one other experience with this which is so ridiculous, I will mention it, if you promise not to make too much fun. I was in the gym working out in 2001 and all the walls have mirrors, you know the way they do it in gyms, and so from across the room I saw this guy make eye contact with me, and I didn’t pay attention, but I did glance back, and so did he. And so I looked away for a while, but I checked again and can you believe the nerve of this guy, he looked right back at me, and that was it man, this guy had a problem you know. So I stood up and I looked right at him in his eyes and can you believe when I stood, he did as well and postured himself like he was gonna kick my ass, and for no reason at all. He stared at me and I stared back, and it was maybe a good five seconds of confrontation, yup, and that was my own reflection, wow man, I hadn’t even recognized myself. That’s Prosopagnosia, and it is a big secret which might someday help you in some way.

There was another really interesting thing the conspiracy did to me as some kind of experiment or torture or something. As you know, I used to sell stuff at the flea market, and despite all the things I may have said about how terrible it was, I actually really enjoyed myself. To be honest, I love the flea market. And so one of the things I did when I got set up in San Francisco was to get a jewelry table, it collapsed in on itself into a large carrying case and I bought some costume jewelry to sell. I thought that would be easy enough and kind of fun and my little hobby. And of Course, if you do ok, and you get into it a bit, well, you might just have a new profession, but certainly a good way to make some extra money. So here is what they did to me. I met some people on the street selling some jewelry and they told me they were former flea market vendors and had a whole bunch of this stuff. And they offered to give me a good wholesale price, and I bought a big bag from them. Except, it wasn’t costume jewelry, it was authentic. I bet it was worth sixty-thousand dollars at least, maybe a hundred.

Where did it come from? The US government seizes several billion dollars a year in smuggled goods, particularly the US Customs people. Each year they auction it off to the public, it is not supposed to become part of the treasury of those agencies. However all one must do, is examine the amount of material reportedly impounded and the amount auctioned and the difference is astounding! In 1999 the US Customs auctioned 4.4 million dollars in impounded goods, which was all they got right? Well, they impounded more than a billion dollars in goods. A bag of jewelry is nothing for these people and I can tell you many more interesting stories about this stuff, for example, their agents working the flea market, they need cash, not questions, and so they will sell this stuff all day long and no one will question that sort of thing, after all, the person is either a fool or a criminal, but who cares, pass me that three hundred dollar ring you want five bucks for, I’ll give you three. And they get rid of some of their inventory, and they make their agents look plenty dirty to those whom that may count, but they also sort of see themselves as Robin Hoods. Steal from drug smugglers and give to real poor people or at least regular people who buy stuff at the flea market.

So, it was a really interesting thing, here was the issue; why did they do that to me? Was it a criminal set-up? Or was it something more? Well, I can tell you the law of such things very well, it’s like this, someone steals jewelry and fences it all over town, but some, they toss off to poor guys like me to buy themselves time and draw the attention of the authorities in the wrong direction. Ok, so right away here I am a guy selling real jewelry which is painted with varnish and crap like that, to make it look fake, but an expert or someone from a country where real jewelry is common, like India or China, they will spot it in a minute as real. They will see it’s painted too and when they ask how much I want for a $300 dollar ring, and I tell them three bucks, they put it down, rub their chin and walk away real fast. Most people will not eat poison unless, they know what it is, and our minds will reject it as well. Anyway, the law itself says that if I know this jewelry is real, I must turn it in, or I could just keep selling it all for one percent of it’s value, meaning I was clean. So what would you do? Ahh, another experiment. Bear in mind, if you toss it in a trash can at three am, that means your guilty. Well, I chanced it, not the trash can, but I wasn’t going to be a fool about it, so I took it all apart, and I kept the stones and the gold, platinum and some silver, and I stuck it all in a big duffel bag, except the stones. An ounce of gold is not worth the same amount as an ounce of diamonds. So I separated all the stones into two containers, one was other than diamonds and the other were diamonds. I thought I would hang on to the stones and let the conspiracy take all the other shit back, which they did. In the middle of one night it was all stolen. Except the stones. They stole or ‘took back’ 10,000 in metal, and I had what one asshole expert told me was worth about fifty thousand bucks. I did try and sell some of it, but the conspiracy played it well, and anyone half way reputable, always asked me “Where did you get this?” A question I was sure they were told to say.

So I thought I would just keep the stones then, and I did, until later in my story. There is a problem with jewelry, and I know many of you will say I am superstitious, but it is very magical. Jewelry, is made by hand, and the older stuff was made with love by proud people, and that jewelry will absorb that energy, as it is being made, the stones absorb the most. The jewelry I had, where did it come from? I started thinking, I know it is stolen in bulk or bought from war torn countries who are under embargo, or other legitimate sources, but does anyone remember the crime of the century for jewelry? Many of the diamonds I had were just plane Jane, cut real quick nothing special, but the colored stones, I really worried, I worried they came from the Holocaust against the Jews in WWII. I was fascinated by them and I spent many hours looking at them marveling at their magic. It was fine that I should hold them, if you could know about these things, I think it’s ok to hold them, but remember, this is energy, it is not intelligence, and if these stones came from the holocaust, that could be very dangerous to have. If you knew where they came from, you couldn’t keep them no, you would have to do something special, or just give them away you know? The energy of them, was so strong and one in particular, a magnificent little Alexandrite stone was my favorite, I loved it. It was alone a five or ten thousand dollar stone, but the magic it held was beyond what you could ever think you might find. I carried it in my pocket with me all over for months thinking, where did this stone come from? And then, my friends, I found out, for if it is possible, that stone spoke to me, and not with a voice and not with a vision. I had carried that stone with true love and it was absurd, but I used to put it under my tongue and keep it there all day long. I guess it maybe means something, everyone in the occult world knows that gems hold great energy and can have great power, but it was not what I sought, I just loved it, and I decided, if I should ever sell any of those colored stones, I certainly would not ever sell this one, and I don’t know what else to say. I do not believe in pure animism, the stone held no soul, as Buddhist might believe. But when you do weird things, with weird things, weird things will always happen.

So I sat one day in my bus, up front in the drivers seat enjoying the afternoon sun, and I held in my hand that Alexandrite stone, and I rolled it for an hour and then, I held it to the light, as I had done a hundred times before, and do you know what reflected out of that stone? To my horror, I saw what the craftsman, who had cut that stone at least one hundred years before, had cut it to display when it caught the light; it was the Star of David. I studied that stone in horror and I checked and rechecked and I don’t know how I could have missed it before, but it was there, as plane as day, and that stone my friends, I guarantee you, came from some Nazi concentration camp!

The voices told me then to make a special box and put that stone inside and leave it there until it was needed. They told me they would take care of it, and all I had to do was get a box and decorate it with the other colored stones. Some outside, some inside, and they said not to worry, but that would mean a lot. They said, I would pass that stone away, and it would bear testimony in my case against the awful men in our government. I did what they told me, and I didn’t think about again, until I was going to commit suicide off the Golden Gate Bridge. The diamonds were stolen/given by me to a highway patrol officer who knew they were real and swiped them, just between he and I. He had left that box because it didn’t look real, it was so homemade, the gems outside looked like beads, but they were rubies, huge, natural rubies! The highway patrol had asked me what was in the box before they opened it, and I had told them, oh, just some little jewelry, and when they opened it the Alexandrite shined it’s Star of David right at me and they closed the box and it went into evidence.

Now about this guy Donald Lynch, he was my friend from 1997, when I had first gone to the flea market in Oakland with my game. He was a nice enough guy and we became pretty good buddies. He was an old man like maybe sixty or so and he always told me stories about how he was in fact secretly active in American politics, and how he periodically had the FBI following him around and stuff like that. I listened to his stories, and he would pause to try and sell an elderly Mexican woman a broken plate for fifty cents and I thought, well, I thought what I always thought when people told me things like that throughout my life, which they always have, I thought that there was a grain of truth somewhere in there. It was like a drug addict once told me, he spent a month hiding from the police convinced they were after him, because they had in fact spent one whole day following him, and he thought in retrospect it was quite funny. And so it was I assumed with all such people, sure, they had there day of contact, and then they had their own twenty-nine days of imagination, and you may be assuming the same for me as well. Oh yes my friends, Don was full of stories, he had done this and he had done that, and he really hated our government and after all the petty little things he had done and seen in his long life he had a lot to say, and I will share it all with you today. Perhaps, I hope, to his horror.

Don had a brother, who had been attending a church that was so fundamentalist we might call them insane. Yes, that was back in 1981, a time when Donald Lynch had success and money and connections and thought he knew the way the world worked. He was by his own reckoning a multimillionaire all the way back then. He had made his money in parking structures and auto towing, primarily, along with a variety of other good investments, particularly, real estate. He told me, at the beginning of his troubles he had sold an apartment building in San Francisco for one million dollars, cash. Can you imagine that? I did believe it and I still do, Don had it made. But something happened to Don that would change his life and take him down the shadowy path of international spies and government counter intelligence. What do you suppose it could have been? It was a religious conversion, and of course it came to just the right man, a millionaire, a millionaire who would spend his money after that point trying to save our world from the oncoming arrival of the army of Satan. So it was one day, way back in 1981, that Don’s Brother convinced him to go to a meeting with him to his insane church, and so Don agreed, if for no other reason, then to simply satisfy his brother’s request.

At that meeting the leader, whomever he may have been, stressed certain key points, Satan was coming, the members had to keep the path, and he went on and on with a beautiful sermon which I would like to have seen, for apparently, this man was a true believer who was in fact touched with the gift of prophecy. To listen to a true believer, especially one who has been touched by God, will always impress you, in ways you can’t imagine, and such a thing is always a supernatural matter, for it is said, that God has called each individual to that place to hear their own message, just for them. This is a matter of supernatural law, it is seldom discussed in religion, due to fear of an association with witchcraft. At any rate, Don listened to this guy remind him of all sorts of things Don already believed in, and maybe Don would have left that meeting feeling a bit guilty and simply gone on with his own life, if not for two key points. The preacher said that would be their last meeting, so it wasn’t a rip off. Second the preacher, told those gathered the end time was very near, and they must prepare their souls…and he had seen a vision, a vision which was a kind of demarcation line from the old world to the new, and that vision was none other than the attempted assassination of then President Ronald Reagan. And Don left that meeting thinking what we all would have been thinking, yeah right.

A month later when the president was shot, Don flipped out and he changed his life forever. What Don did, I can’t say for certain, but I can tell you he was a player, who played for real. He connected himself to all kinds of people and I would assume he became what might be considered a revolutionary, except that in the supernatural world, there is only one valid action you can take on your own that will not be turned against you, you can tell the truth. Don was unfortunately a liar, not about all that, but about what he had done from 1981 to 1997. He had stories and we shared many amusing times while I listened to those stories, many of which I knew were true. But the premise of his being a revolutionary, this was a lie, he was fighter and a player of the game. He was on one side, belonging to a faction, which held an opinion, and that faction fought other factions who held different opinions and that is the nature of American politics, a secret war fought by secret factions. You might think you are a Republican, or a Democrat, but you are not, you are a pawn of these men. But do not fear, for these men are not fighting to hurt us exactly, they are fighting for control of an airplane which is headed for a mountain. Unfortunately, not one of them is a real pilot. And it may in fact be that this fight is what will destroy us.

Don told me his methods and for those of you who may wish track this man down, you know in order to see if I am an alien, I will give you a clue. Do you remember in 1996, during the presidential campaigning there was an issue, an issue which was scandalous, and that issue was the funding of the Democratic Party by a foreign power? They gave money, lot’s of money, and it leaked out into the press. The Chinese government was making donations to the Democratic Party through some of it’s many front companies operating here in the US. Oh what a scandal it was! Well, Don told me that it was he who had exposed that, and I will tell you how, and also that I do believe this to be true, for those of you who want to know. Don owned the name of a corporation, and under the name of that corporation he filed a lawsuit against either Bill Clinton, or the Democratic Party. The lawsuit was not very scandalous in itself, just very interesting to see, a good title if you will, like a proper icon on the top of a poster. Don then used his Corporations name to issue a press release about the lawsuit. That was just a sham, but a reporter reading the lawsuit papers would come across obvious information which indicated the scandal of Chinese funding for the Democrats, and that my friends is real, and that was how Donald Lynch broke that story. That is a true story and anyone of you reading this can go look it up and at the root of it all, you will find Don, not that you will ever really find him, for he is a master player and has told me he must always be on guard for assassins from all the things he has done to screw different people over. He got stabbed before, and he has been shot at and he has spent his time dodging the FBI, though I am sure he has spent an equal amount if time in their ‘war rooms’ guiding their operations.

And why would I say these things about my friend Don? Well, you see, I loaned him fifty bucks once, and he took two years to pay me back. That doesn’t matter, I give my life for my friends, but Don didn’t really need my money, he just wanted to see if I would lend it to him. I didn’t eat on some occasions after that you know, and I always have thought the times I didn’t eat when he still owed me that money, it was Don who took my food, when he didn’t even need it. Why would he do that to me? Not to mention everything else that happened to me, of which Don was a part. If you don’t believe me, track him down and ask him, ask him if I am an alien too.

He used to talk and talk about all these things and then he would run off into the government this and the government that and so many times he would end his long diatribes with this statement and question; “Of course it’s all religious you know Andrew…it’s all been foretold, and there is little we can do…these are the end times, and we must try whatever we can to do what we must…” and then he would squint his eyes and look at me, as if I knew all he said was true and as if I knew too all his inner conspiracies that he played, and he would conclude saying, “…and the question is, the real question is, who is Andrew?” I used to smile at that and think nothing of it and whatever seriousness he may have put into it would dissipate or be reidentified with our flea market day.

Of course that is not all that my friend Don did, he did two other things which are pretty important, and I want to tell you about them. In 2000 I found Don again, for he had disappeared for more than a year and when I found him he talked to me about the coming election. He told me some very interesting things about that, but he also told me, once again that these were indeed the ‘end times’ mentioned in the Bible. He first told me about the election, and what he said is that he, along with some other people, were going to have a little secret revolution and take control of our government. He told me, “Andrew, we are going to give America teeth…”. Meaning teeth to bite our international enemies with…wow, just look at the Bush wars and God dam if they didn’t. He said there would be no real election and later at another time I asked him how they would do this thing and he said, they were going to have the election tossed into the courts and that was their trick. He said he was going to be in the new administration and he did offer me a job, and thank you God, I said no. Can you believe I said no? I found out he was part of the conspiracy by something he said, something a man warned me about on a ski lift when I was only twelve, a weird man who broke the perimeter, and when Don told me what this man said I would hear, I knew. I told Don that I was warned and that I should kill him, that I would kill him, except, that I knew better ways would come for revenge in the future. Anyway, he also told me that this plan had been financed by Bill Gates of Microsoft who hated Bill Clinton and didn’t want a Gore presidency. If you remember his company, Microsoft was being ripped apart by a federal antitrust lawsuit, which incidentally has now been dismissed. And what may be incidental to it all is an odd fact that the judge who was appointed to oversee his companies case was changed and the new judge sided with him, and she was then appointed to the FISA court itself, which may mean nothing to any of you, but it links in my case. The FISA court oversees my case. And she had been appointed to his case in 2000 before the coup but didn’t rule until after the election. I forget her name, but it is public information and not worth my time here.

Anyway, the second thing Don told me is that these are desperate times for our country and we must do desperate things. Words dictators have spoken since the beginning of time. I supposed he was justifying his planned takeover, and I asked him, why Don, why are these desperate times, and he told me, and this will really bother you. Because of all our conversations, I knew only two things for certain about Don, one, he was connected to the Machine, and two, I could tell when what he said was true, and though I did not believe his coup, I did believe what he said about ‘desperate times’. So I asked why? And he told me “These are the ‘End Times’ written of in the Bible…” I argued with him, it was ridiculous Don, but he was insistent, he said he knew it for a fact, and all the signs were there anyway, but aside from all those signs, he knew, these were the end times. I was concerned, he was truly convinced, and it worried me for a moment, what did Don know? And so I asked him, “Tell me Don, what do you know?” And this man, this man who claimed to be participating in a coup to overthrow the American government, a coup which appeared to happen just as he said it would, this man, this coup plotting man who told me, that he would practically be running our nation, he told me, “Well Andrew, back in 1981, after I was born again, I knew that we were close to the end, but that it was too far for me to see in my lifetime, and you see Andrew, I wanted to see Jesus in my lifetime, I want to see the second coming of Christ and so Andrew, I prayed that God would speed the process, and I followed the Biblical rules for this prayer, and I forced my wife and my daughter to pray with me, and we did that and now Andrew, the process has been sped up, I know it has, and I can see it.” I forget which prayer he told me of, but it is one that is said by believers to never fail, it is always granted. And I wanted to tell you that, because at that moment I knew Donald Lynch was insane. And it was not that I didn’t believe him, but rather, that I did, and unfortunately, I am sorry to tell you all, whoever and wherever you may be, that this man, just might in fact be inside the Bush White House even as I write this, and this man is fulfilling his prophecy. His own desire brought about by magic used in the worst way, and I am afraid I call that ‘Black Magic’, but then isn’t all magic black? A Christian prays for the arrival of Satan, hmm.

Did you wonder like the millions around the world, why did we invade Iraq? Well, My friends, we are provoking something called ‘The War Of Gog’, it’s written of in the Bible, and at the end of that great war, the army of Satan will descend upon the Earth to save us from ourselves and will raise above them the antichrist as the leader of a new world. If you can survive the seven years that follow, you will get to see Jesus fly down from the sky and liberate us. I can’t help but think that it might just be that Jesus will indeed swoop down past Don and his friends and simply chop off their heads as he passes them, which is also part of prophecy, but then, what do I know, you know?

My little game

Did I tell you about my little game? Surely I must have, but no did I forget? Oh well then please allow me to include it in this chapter. There is this other thing that I did in San Francisco for those six months which you guys might like to hear about. It started after I had been told I was genetically engineered, and even though I wasn’t certain as to the authenticity of that, I did know that ‘they’ were controlling my life, and they wouldn’t let me out of their site. I couldn’t believe what they had told me, and yet they were everywhere, and for the most part, they were pretty benign, which means if I didn’t look at them they wouldn’t bother me.

So one evening, I stepped outside of that awful shitty hotel where I lived and I stood there looking around, kind of bored. I looked down one side of the street and down the other, and you know, I was amazed as I always was and even still am at how many people were standing about or sitting in parked cars or driving cars around the block and such as all that. That is the security of the Machine, which maintains it own guarantee of continued physical domination of my case. So if you were a UFO nut or a Russian spy, there is only one door to access the life of the Hybrids and that door is through them. Many times in 1999 they had scared me so badly that I had run away from them and on two occasions I was actually able to escape. Can you imagine that? Little old me running away from a force of literally thousands of people and getting away? I stood there in a typical rainy San Francisco night and I thought about that and I thought, why they had even used helicopters and even had satilights! And then the thought struck me that it was raining, and the satilights couldn’t see through the clouds, and by the way, they can’t. I am so proud of myself that I know that one little tid bit of information and I am so very happy to share it with you here. Remember that! And so, as I stood there looking at them all, they started to get nervous and I always see them do this, because, I usually don’t just stand there staring at them, unless I am sizing them up to try and escape which I used to do in ’99. So, it suddenly struck me, that how many people in the world had an opportunity to run away from a giant joint task force of clandestine services who would enthusiastically chase them, for real, and yet if they got caught it meant nothing? I mean, nobody? Yes, I stood there and looked at them all and I thought, why here I have, all to myself, hundreds of people who will chase me if I run, and how fun would that be? Not only, would they be chasing me, but this was no group of college kids, you see, this was none other than the God dam CIA itself, and they meant it! I thought how it was in fact such an honor and a pleasure to have these hundreds of people all ready to play this giant game of hide and seek with me. But not only that, not only would such a game be thrilling beyond all thrills, but it would no doubt cause a consternation which would upset everyone present and all of their bosses. Oh yes my friends, and should the Machine have even one solitary minute of time in which they could not explain my whereabouts, heads would roll. I remembered to all those times as a child when I sometimes slipped away from them, and I will tell you about that in the next chapter, but it was big deal for them, and yet here on this night I stood with a hundred eyes watching me, and so my friends, with a great smile, and a thump of my heart I ran like Hell and I had the time of my life!

When I was tired, I walked home, took a shower and went to sleep. But this my friends was only the beginning of that game, and oh how I loved that game. That was my private game and I never told anyone about it, since it was so silly, that is, until ‘they’ brought it up. I would make complex plans of how I would escape them each night. I would start with dinner, maybe a hamburger and a beer and I would look at a map of the city or create one in my mind and I would think about how one actually escapes a CIA net. It isn’t as hard as you might think, of course, I had many months to play this game over in San Francisco, and many more in Los Angeles. Oh you have no idea how fun! And I even restricted my ability by sticking to certain rules.

On the first night I ran, I ran to my right, thinking what I needed to do was to get all of their traffic stuck in an inconvenient location and then double back, and so I ran under the, I think number one under pass. I ran for several blocks and what that did is it got all their people talking on their radios to each other and saying ‘Andrew is heading south into the Mission district. And once I was sure they were convinced of this I hopped on the BART heading still South. And now you see, they had a few people on the train with me and they had all their cars heading for the next station and all the other points south, why half their people were on the freeway by then. At the next station I got off and exited the station crossed the street and reentered the station from the other side and headed back the other way. Which isn’t so bad for them, but it still thins out the numbers since you have a ton of them in traffic heading south, some parked at the other stations, and some on the freeway going sixty miles an hour the wrong way. Next, I rode the train up to a transfer station for the municipal subway, I got off the BART ran downstairs and hopped on the Muni going out West. And I will tell you guys, this direction is a real bitch if you want to get over that way by car. There are these difficult hills and all the main thoroughfares are too far from where I was to make it easy, and so I sent them into what I could tell was an obvious panic. I got off the Castro station and I ran, and I mean I ran like Hell, up and over to the, I think it is the L line. There is a station, there where I stood only a moment or two, just long enough for a variety of different people to run into the station panting, all leaning over on their knees, catching their breath. I pretended to wait for that coming train. Yes, and now, while all the other people were heading out to the Sunset and a ton were still down in the Mission district fighting traffic or some such thing, I was now evading a much thinner force.

I will tell you something else, they will never ever, ever, unless it is absolutely one hundred percent necessary, call out the local police, because you see, can you imagine, what would they say? They can easily call the cops and sure, they can tell them a national security target is right then evading the CIA and God dam, yeah, they will get all the help they need from the cops, like you cannot believe, but suppose the cops spoke to me? You get the idea? I mean, the cops are under the control of ‘they’ but they don’t at all control the cops. In such a scenario the CIA is already off scene, they lost control, and none of their people are present, so they ask the local police, just to find me, and not stop me, not speak to me, just don’t lose visual contact with me, and so who would even know if I spoke to a cop or not? Yeah, they did have to do that once for me, shall I tell you that story? Ok, but first back to San Francisco. I was at an L station I believe, and while a thin force tried to catch it’s breath, I waited just long enough for them all to change direction, and then when the train came I ran down the street. I ran down a side street which leads to a park, and I will tell you something about national security operations, they are secure, which means, if the target runs, you can not be seen chasing him, or else it gives away the target to unknown spies. I ran down that street one block and I made a right turn, which of course takes me out of the eyes of those at the station, and I then made a left and another right and as luck would have it, I thought I had cleared them and I had, and I ran off into that park. That is some God awful park that could only exist in San Francisco, it was like a giant mountain. I walked through that park thinking to myself they must surly have the place surrounded by now and that when I walked out the other side I would see the typical one million men standing around doing nothing but watching me. I smelled the pine trees and the grass and I pondered life and the meaning of it all, and I walked up that hill and I passed no one else for the night was a bit too damp for a walk in the park. Then I saw from the view the park offers of the city, not just how magnificent San Francisco is, but I saw they had a bunch of helicopters flying around the city, and part of me deep inside wondered, had I escaped them and they were desperately looking for me? It just couldn’t be possible. Or could it?

I walked for an hour through that park and I was wet and I was miserable and I was hot, and I thought I was a fool to even try to play such a silly game. The park I walked through goes across some mountain that really belongs in Tibet or Switzerland, not in any city in America and it sucked! It took me forever to get through it, and when I came down the other side I was the Haight Ashbery district and on the first few streets I did pass a couple of people, but no one looked at me, not really at all. And I strolled out onto Haight street and I looked around, and oh how wonderful it was, for I had escaped, if only for a little while, for I saw not one member of the conspiracy anywhere. I had gained my freedom and liberty and I had in my possession for that moment, something you all take for granted, I was alone. I waked down Haight street past the scumbags and past people asking me if I wanted to buy Weed or Speed or some Acid, and few girls who maybe were selling themselves, and I headed over as an anonymous member of the civilized world, as alone and as common as a man might be, I headed to one of my favorite little bars. I enjoyed the air and I enjoyed being cold now, and I loved it, and it’s funny you know, because I always wondered, can the insane, and I mean the truly insane, escape their delusions, can they outrun their hallucinations?

I passed a group of complete scum, who must have been among the worst the district has to offer, and they were high and saying this and that to themselves and then one saw me and he was about to ask me for money as a beggar would, when instead he said “OH SHIT!” and he turned to his companions and smacked them very hard and pointed to me. I paused, and the man looked up at the sky and the others, who appeared as much to be cutthroats and heroine addicts as people could ever be, melted themselves against the walls staring at me as though an alien from another world stood before them. I loved it, and I smiled and said “Hello” and I went over to that little bar whose name I forget, and I had a beer while I waited for the conspiracy to reorganize itself, having now discovered me, and I went home and went to bed, not knowing what else to do.

It was a great game, I played it almost ever night and if nothing else, it surely cost them a lot of money. That is ultimately what everything comes down to you know, money. My friend Sissy and her boyfriend Dave at some later point six months in the future sat me down and told me this had become a problem. Sissy told me, out of the blue, I had to stop this game, Dave disagreed, and said he thought the overall nature of my case and who I was moved beyond all that he and Sissy saw and heard. He said in his opinion, the real men in charge liked what I did very much, and he thought I ought to continue. Sissy, said she disagreed, she said I panicked people, and many more people than I could ever imagine had been complaining. I will never forget that conversation, for you see, I had never told anyone of my little game, I played it as a man in cell might play Solitaire with a deck of cards, I played it alone. And I did continue to play this game, until in fact, I declared myself a master, I knew all their methods and I knew all their secret technologies and how to defeat them all. The game did grow boring in the end, as a man in a cell alone with that deck of cards might finally grow bored, with the cards themselves.

Oh yes, I mentioned the police didn’t I? It was actually the last time I really ran from them, the last time I really practiced my game, and I suppose having now become a master, I needed no more practice. They also threatened to put me in prison if I continued, which in and of itself would not have stopped me, but I say, just so you know.

On that occasion I planned for several days my flight from their custody, just so they would know I was going to give them a real run for their money. I spent the morning driving my motorcycle down in Los Angeles along Ventura Blvd. I went from shop to shop and the conspiracy was thick, so think you can’t imagine. What I had planned to do was to escape them and then ditch my motorcycle and then use the massive underground storm drain system of Los Angeles to carry myself away somewhere, but where I had no idea, and of course at the end of the day, the master of the game went home, as I always do. But what I did was really great and here I will tell you what to do basically, though, I doubt any of you would be successful, still, what I say here may someday help you. All you do, is just kind of cruise around here and there waiting for the opportunity to present itself to you, and it always will, always. I and the conspiracy all went over to North Hollywood and then on through to a place called Studio City. And it was here, that I escaped them, it was quite simple, we were all in the Valley and in one corner, which put them against a wall. Then I got on the freeway and on my motorcycle I drove one hundred and twenty five miles per hour and now the conspiracy had a choice, it could pursue me, or let me go. And I will tell you just how exciting those few moments were. We were in a pass called ‘The Cuenga Pass’ which leads from the San Fernando valley into the main LA area, and this is the ONLY way to get across within five miles of either side. So the conspiracy first tried to squeeze the lanes together, and over and over two little white cars would close ranks within inches of each other, and I thought ‘what a fine way to die’ and I accelerated and blew my horn and they separated, but not fully and not every time, and I did hit a couple of those cars, shearing off their mirrors as I accelerated to my maximum speed. Fuck’em! And soon it was clear I would be passed their massive little group, and so for a few minutes in the Cuenga Pass on that morning, had you been there you would have actually seen a poor guy on a motorcycle flying like a bat out of Hell, being pursued by a whole bunch of little white cars, and oh my, what a sight it must have been! Fast Bikes help, those stupid little cars, they only go like one hundred or so.

Oh, I got away, oh yes I did, and then I saw the regular highway patrol and there were quite a few, and I thought they might just not get too involved, and so I continued at one hundred and twenty five miles per hour, and to my astonishment, I was not officially pursued. No, but they were watching me as best they could, and once I was sure none could see me, and once I had that break I knew I had a chance, for you see the Highway patrol has an office in Hollywood just a few more exits past where I was, and I flew off the freeway and I zoomed along down some residential street and once again I was alone! I thought, I ought to head south through Hollywood really fast and then on the other side, I could decide what to do, so I hurried two blocks down to Hollywood blvd. And I was so shocked, for this is it my friends, it is that last procedure for such a conspiracy, they had indeed notified to the local police, who were out en mass. They had done something unusual, they had called all their cops out of their station, I mean they had to have, for they were everywhere! I crossed Hollywood boulevard and down the little side streets and a million cops converged on top of me, all pointing to each other and giving hand gestures and the like and I paused for a moment and I thought they might, arrest me, for they were so determined and surrounded me. But they did not, they just followed and stared at me and you know, you can’t really run from the cops, though I did think about it, I mean given the circumstance, it is really not that serious a crime. I thought, why yes, I could indeed outrun the Hollywood division, but then I thought in my mind a clear map of what makes up the Los Angeles region and I saw a hundred little cities with a hundred little police departments and I knew that there was half a chance they might not have even officially stopped me, but I also knew there was no real escape, not then anyway. I pulled to the side then, I think just a block over from the Wilcox station and about six or seven cars stopped as well, not like they wanted to say anything to me, but they stared at me and together me and all those cops knew a little secret, though, those men there with me, could never have imagined the depth of that secret.

I didn’t run anymore, and as I pondered, the police stared at me and together we perhaps wondered what might happen next, and all that happened was a bunch of CIA and other official looking cars finally caught up with me, and waved thank you to the local police, who then slowly left the area giving me final quizzical looks, no doubt wondering who I might have been. I gave up for the day, and went shopping in downtown LA where they have incidentally an excellent wholesale market. I got a really good deal on the most beautiful fabric for my bus and another excellent deal on a bedspread from heaven. And in the end of all that, I wonder, why do they even chase me? I mean really, I have no where to go. I can only suppose that it may be there are those, out there, somewhere who might want to see me, and certainly could never pass the massive requirements for official contact. No, indeed you must first pray for the oncoming arrival of Satan before they will consider you acceptable. Though I suppose many people are willing to do such things, I’d really like to meet those who would not. Perhaps it’s just the idea of who I am and that I would be ‘out there somewhere’ that would just keep too many people awake at night wondering…‘Where is he…does he know where I live?’ I can picture them, rolling back and forth in bed, living in palaces guarded by small armies, while our people sleep in the streets and have to wait outside a hospital, for a space in the hall! I probably wouldn’t be hunting down any of them, after all, sure I could cross the continent and pass through the cities, I could make in anywhere I wanted, even over the borders and in the end, I could even get into their bedroom undetected, I could stand over them, and when they rolled over for the six thousandth time since I had vanished, I would be there, to avenge not just their crimes against me, but against so many others, crimes that are beyond our minds measurements, simply, crimes against humanity. Sure, I could do that, I know I could, but then I could only get one or two, or you know a limited number anyway. No, I will wait for the future, when we can get them all! We don’t even have to break the laws, we will be the law, and we will indict them and give them what they never gave anyone, the only thing they never wanted, a day in court.

It’s kind of funny, because as I sit here writing this, I realize that the very idea of me being ‘out there somewhere’ would probably be enough to send billions of dollars in financing my way. But if you want to know what is hysterically funny, they spent all their time training me how to escape them, how to identify them, even how to evade their secret technology, and you know it’s really so God dam amazing to me. I can even tell there ranks and often agency affiliation, they wear things, do things and say things so you know it, like a fucking comic book! I won’t tell you that stuff though, no, I need them to keep that the way it is. You know, if I really wanted to, I bet you I could go anywhere on the planet and evade detection. At least until I got there and perhaps said ‘hello’ to whoever didn’t want to see me. I bet I could even find Don. I can imagine his surprise! And you know, that thing that Don always said to me, ‘The question is; who is Andrew?’ I might venture an answer at this time, ‘Why Don, I am only the man that all of you made me to be.’

Just to be clear in my story, I have mentioned several that I had a bus, and that is correct. I was tired of always going broke and figured the rent thing was way overrated anyway, especially when you have the CIA for neighbors, so I bought a really cool old 1946 AC Brill, which had been partially converted into a motorhome. It had everything except a decent kitchen. It was cool man, and it was the most comfortable home I have ever had in my life. I hate to sit at home, I usually live in shitty places, even now as I write this, but that’s another story of life in the third world. But my bus! Dam! I parked two blocks from the beach and lived in it for two years, it was my private resort. I loved it. Life on wheels, it is the only way to live. Of course, most people would call me crazy, at first anyway, but I did live rent free, two blocks from the beach in Venice, California. It took a while, but my neighbors did speak to me, some said your bus is too big and we know you only choose this lifestyle because your weird, but your not crazy or pathetically homeless. Some said other things, but best of all, mostly no one said anything. Of course I’m crazy, I hear voices think I am and alien, claim the CIA want to kill me, anyone in their right mind would know I must be mad. Except for one small itty bitty detail…I’m not.

We cannot justify a government which takes from the people our right to privacy and then assumes for it’s own operations a right to total secrecy

--Dennis Kucinich

Chapter Four

THE PROOFS

Yeah man, if everything you see adds up to one single thing, like a giant two plus two equals four, well, I mean, maybe something is wrong with the equation, maybe we are misreading some small point, for as we all know two plus two equals five. Don’t you remember? George Orwell told us that, and so many other things, remember? I ran over it all in my mind a million times, I was an alien, or I was insane. I remember those early days…I thought well, maybe, I am insane, and a few people who know that are picking on me, and I would look out my window and see the CIA drive by in all their white cars. But, I just couldn’t be an alien, it was and is ridiculous! Besides, to be honest, I would much rather be insane. After all, who wants everyone you have ever met to just be an actor? Every woman you ever loved, every best friend you would give your life for, even your family. No, I was not an alien, and if I was not insane, then I had to be dead. You see, I examined the evidence, and I am indeed not insane, well, I mean about the alien part, I may be insane in other ways, but that’s another story. I had one man in the world who would tell it too me straight and that was my father. I went and saw my father after so long a time, and he was very happy to see me. We sat down, and talked for a while. He asked how things were and I said very bad. I told him all about what had happened and I said, I must be crazy somehow right? He said “No the government is everywhere and they are getting worse.” He recommended I leave the country and I wish I had back then, I have now, and well, it’s another problem. I told my father, I had found out something very terrible about myself and it couldn’t be true, yet it was. I told him I think I might be dead, and he not only insisted I was not dead, but he started talking about all kinds of weird things, things I hadn’t even mentioned, and he said life is crazy enough without having to worry about people from other planets and genetic experiments. Everything I told him he refused to deny, and I told him, then you are not really my father and he just looked me in the eyes but said nothing. I said if this were true you would have seen and done things that a spy would see, I said you would be a spy, and I asked him, are you a spy? He said “I’m not a spy and everyone who works for the government is not a spy, and I have seen things I was in Vietnam, and I saw real spies and I know what they do and they are psychopaths.” I said you and I will have to have a discussion one day about all of this, and he said “Yes, we will.”

Now, he refused to deny anything, but he also refused to tell me if I really was an alien. But it was he, who brought up that part of the story, I had only gotten into the government harassment part when he jumped in that direction. My father, or the actor who played the roll of my father advised me on that day, “Leave the country, or fuck these people and live your life in spite of them as if you had a disease, but if you fight them, they will kill you.” He said that to me as a man who I did not know, he did not say that to me as my father, he was not acting anymore, and though his advice was sound, it was impossible, I refused to accept it. Fight them I have, but only because I must be dead. You cannot kill the dead.

This chapter consists of some of the things that I considered in the question of weather I was an alien or not, and before you read it, remember, we might all be dead somewhere, right? I’d much rather be dead than be an alien. If only for the simple reason that my family would love me. I would like to think that my mother puts flowers on my grave each weekend and prays for my soul. I would like to think my sister lights a candle for me every once in a while without mentioning it to anyone. I would like to think that my father used the resources of his extended family to hunt down and take revenge on the criminals who murdered his son on June 9^th 1999. I would like to think that my brother thinks of me every now and again wishing we had been closer. I really would prefer to be dead than to know that they had all betrayed me, don’t you see? This is not a thing of glory, this is not a good thing, it is not glamorous, in fact, it’s the worst thing that could have happened.

They said so…

In Early August of 2000 I had one of the strangest experiences of my life. One morning I was relaxing in my room at the Civic Center Hotel of San Francisco, where I was staying at the time, when the strangest thought stuck me. It came to me in a very odd way, suddenly and completely in a second or two. I sat back and examined my thought before it slipped away. It was a complicated story about this really weird homeless man called ‘Red’. This character was an independent conspirator of the highest degree, who had manipulated a small group of regular street people into his control. Using these people he would effect an incredible conspiracy against part of the system itself. The fiasco he created involved Federal Reserve bank transfers back and forth from the accounts of a sinister mafia in San Francisco, called ‘The Family’, to overseas accounts belonging to front businesses of the intelligence services of enemy nations, enemy politicians, authentic terrorist groups and other interesting system members domestically. He trained his homeless agents how to dress up and effect those different transfers, in person, by intercepted verification phone calls, and e-mails from the required people. He supported all that activity with ‘in your face’, all traceable evidence, such as, created public meetings between the supposed targets, restaurant reservations, plane reservations, plane tickets, he put the people where they never were. All a massive frame-up that ultimately would bring the Machine, with a bloodthirsty revenge, back on itself. The Maneuver would become legendary and the ordinary street people were be turned into diehard fanatics. In the end, as the authorities were figuring out the roots of the fiasco and traced it back to the homeless people, a strange horror would emerge to them as to the unbelievable power of Red. The homeless people, who had previously been weak outcasts, were now in possession of unbendable wills of iron. And at the moment when their cover stories collapsed they would shout at their interrogators calling them traitors, unwilling to negotiate, telling them nothing, facing their fate like Maoist guerillas, as opposed to what they were supposed to be. And who was this man called ‘Red’? No one knew.

Ok, so that little story is fairly complex, and as I finished thinking about it, my friend Dino knocks on my door. And as we chatted, what do you suppose he begins discussing? The story of this incredible man called ‘Red’. I froze in horror, and though I didn’t know how they did it, I knew what they had done. I believe they had used an ELF transmission directly into my brain and Dino was there to check my response and basically see if it had worked. The only thing I couldn’t understand was, why?

About a week and a half or so later, around August 20^th, again while I was talking to this same Dino character, I had a similar experience. I suddenly got this ‘thing’, a string of ideas, and I saw things about myself from the past few years and then more stretching far back through my life. I knew the conspiracy was everywhere, even Dino, and I saw how they used my morality to manipulate me, and I saw so clearly differences about myself and others that I had never even thought of before, I saw a thousand points before me that showed me so much, the conspiracy had been there forever, and always used my own morality as a weapon against me. Then I heard a voice, one I had heard my whole life, it jumped into all that I saw and it said to me “You see Andrew, the government is everywhere around you, because you are so different…” and when it said that I saw a thousand more images and a thousand more proofs of all that, and knew it was true. The voice continued; “And you are not different because you are some kind of mutant or just an unusual person, but because you are genetically engineered.” And I knew it was true, for I saw in my mind and I held in my mind knowledge that showed me all that, I even saw the genetics and things I can’t describe, and I even knew it was a kind of a reptile which I had in my blood as a part of myself. It was my brain and in particular, it was the structure of my thought that was altered, in that I thought in the way of the other creature. Though, they would not say anything of the kind ‘reptile’, nothing at all, even though it seems I tried to know but there were pictures and no ideas. Dino’s voice drifted off as I listened, in pure horror to this narration, for I saw it all and I knew it was true.

At that moment, what I knew to be true was so unbearable for my own mind, that I saw myself circling in a kind of blackness within. My mind could not bear such a truth and I don’t know where I was heading, but I saw that blackness rapidly closing in, a circle forming around my minds eye, it spun inward until all was black but the very center and that was fading, like when you shut off a TV, I couldn’t even see, and I know if I were to have held that knowledge a moment more, I surly would have died. And then, so suddenly, in just an instant, I knew it was not true, after all, no one has such genetic technology on the scale they were discussing, and even if they could engineer someone, there is no animal anywhere on Earth that could be crossed without reducing the subjects intelligence level substantially. I actually thought that, ‘…on Earth’ part too which is interesting.

You may say, ‘why so an elaborate way of telling someone something?’. The answer lies in that it would still be possible for one to deny this reality if it were too extreme for their mind. Rather than officially debrief someone and possibly have them die or drift off into catatonia, the information is presented and withdrawn, leaving them small bits & pieces, with supporting evidence provided in their environment. As they become agitated and slip towards the edge of sanity, the effort drops off until they are presumed ready to continue.

It was several months later that I came across Bob Frissels book, Nothing In This Book Is True But It’s Exactly The Way Things Are. Reading through that strange book I came across a discussion of the hybridization project of the Greys, which was the first time I had heard that aliens were supposedly genetically engineering people. Once my heart started beating again, I went and read everything that I could about these Hybrids, which was surprisingly very little. What I did find discussed the way they appear and then something I had never heard about, the staring powers of both the aliens and Hybrids. That staring ability stuff brought back some strange memories.

The eye deal…

As I was reading about the aliens staring abilities, I recalled a day back in 1999 when I had performed such an action. It was some time in March, I was walking down the street and happened to be in a terrible mood. My life was collapsing all around me and for some reason that I cannot recall, I was unable to work that day, so I wasn’t very happy at all. As I came around this corner, I saw these two Federal agents standing by their car parked across the street from me. When they saw me, one of them began staring at me, displaying the most repugnant look he could have possibly offered up. That look, combined with the fact that these men were actively destroying my life, wrongfully so, really offended me. I had done my best to ignore all those evil people so as to not aggravate the situation, but on that day I had had enough. So I stopped, turned and looked right into his eyes thinking ‘Ok pal, whatever you want to do, I’m game.’ Now, let me tell you, I have never really done such a thing before and meant it to such a degree. It’s a strange thing, because people have always stared at me and if I ever stared back, they almost always began screaming, “What are ya staring at!!?” and pretty much, no matter who they were, they would challenge me to a fight. I always thought it odd, but just figured it was one of those unexplained things in life. You know, I mean really, what else could I have thought? Some people do exist on the fringe of statistics after all. It was possible.

But, here I was, on this day staring back, ready to fight, ready to end their stupid game right then and there, when something totally bizarre happened instead. To win this staring contest, I mustered up my strongest feelings of venom and rage. I imagined this man in a little room tied to a chair, with me standing over him screaming at him, releasing all of my rage in an imaginary thought. I then imagined stabbing him in the eye, his left eye, and do you know, before I could continue, he let out this horrible moan, doubles over and covers his left eye. Of course, at first I thought he was mocking me, then, I realized there was no way he could have known what I was thinking. His friend ran over to him shouting; “What happened? What happened? Are you ok?” He looked up at me then, his face so red, his eyes were full of tears, his expression a fearful agony, he was shaking, and gasped “He…he looked at me”. Wow man, I had thought and he had felt.

For those of you who would think I am a cruel monster, I would point out that I had no idea that was going to happen. I also felt really bad and wanted to go over to the poor guy and say something, but I had to remind myself of the scope of the overall situation and thought it was still a bad idea to have open contact with them. I shrugged off the experience as random psychic phenomena and nothing more.

However, a year later and a half later, I found the event had profound significance. That was for a long time the most compelling piece of evidence that I had. I can find no way to reconcile this, especially given the scope of the manpower involved in the governments activities with me, other than to accept what I have been told, and to believe I am a Hybrid.

On a little side note, I want to add that those CIA and military and whoever they are, that those people, were and are extremely cruel to me, and did and have done things to me which are unspeakable crimes, often, I believe, for no reason at all save their own personal pleasure. That is your government people. And quite frankly, that man received but a touch of what he deserves.

So anyway, I had another experience with this sort of thing a bit later, in 2002, but it was I who got ‘looked’ at this time, by some kind of an alien in my home. I really don’t know why it happened, but for some reason guess they wanted to show me something, perhaps so I could know and even maybe to say it here, right now.

I was falling asleep when I saw someone walking in my hall. I sat up very quickly and the figure ran towards me so fast, and it was pretty dark too, all I could see was a little person, like maybe a child, but his skin was a pale grayish color and do you know by the time I sat up and looked directly at him, he swung his arm up and punched me in the face. Can you believe it? What a little asshole! And I will tell you, it wasn’t like a regular punch by any means, but rather, was as if I had been hit by a sledgehammer. I flew back in my bed and covered the injury with my hands, only for a moment though, for ‘they’ were still there, and I scooted myself against the wall and shouted and I put one hand up to block the next blow and I raised my feet against where they were. I opened my right eye and looked, but there was no one there. I tell you though, my face did hurt, really bad and I knew the bones were crushed under the skin and surly blood would pour out very soon. But I felt no blood and I felt my face pretty intact and when I tried to, I opened my left eye, and I could see just fine. And while I looked for that little creature, I also felt the pain in my face fade away and could find no actual damage.

The strange of my childhood…

In December of 2000 as I came to this apparently preposterous conclusion, I was reminded of many small tidbits of the unusual that I had never been able to understand. Suddenly, all the pieces seemed to fit so neatly together, everything made sense.

An example of such an event was a party my parents had way back in 1974, I, only being four years old at the time still remember it like it was yesterday. It was around two o’ clock in the afternoon, as the party was in full swing that I drowned in the swimming pool and had to be resuscitated by my mother. Such a thing tends to stay with an individual forever. That was my mother’s fortieth birthday and I do remember everything, including the little champagne cork that I was reaching to get out of the water when I fell in. Through the years she occasionally pointed out that it wasn’t her fortieth birthday, because she was only thirty-eight in 1974 having been born in 1936. I certainly would never have argued such a point, as she was surly right and yet, though I always conceded the item, it was only because it couldn’t have been. I have always wondered, never being able to understand.

Another, is from perhaps my earliest memory, of the only time I met my mothers father. I was a year and a half old at the time and I met him in the backroom of my grandmothers house that our family had purchased using the proceeds from his life insurance, after his death of course. If that sounds confusing, imagine how I felt over the years.

Of course the stuff of real interest is the supernatural, after all, if this alien thing were true, there would be plenty of that. I can tell you, I hated my childhood, and of everything, there was always the constant terror of the supernatural. Did you ever see ‘Shadow People’? I never had a day without them, not a single day, until I was seventeen. Things moving, bad feelings, creepiness, and other assorted minor horror. I wish I could take you back there and have you spend a night in that house, you would find it very exciting. Among the supernatural, the second most bizarre item, were these people I encountered as a child that I thought were very real and very much not human. I called them ‘The Black People’ because they had a visible aura of black energy around their bodies. These were the mythical people of my childhood, that despite the mythical part, I’d see around every once in a while. I would see them in the middle of a crowd staring at me, plainly visible to anyone, even though no one seemed to notice them. They kept their distance, I suppose out of respect for the horror they caused me, perhaps it was less about respect and more about avoiding trouble. Although, it wasn’t always that way with them, you see, the first time I encountered them, it was much different.

I had a fever at age six, it was the dead of night, and there I was lying on my bed looking out over the room, burning up, when this woman steps quietly out of the closet. I knew I had a fever, and simply assumed I was hallucinating, which was no big deal to me, so I ignored her. She came over, stood next to my bed looking at me and I was so unconcerned, as well as fatigued that I didn’t even move my eyes. As she stood there, a man stepped out from behind her. That was very strange and I would have at least stood up to get a look at the angle he did that, but, like I said, I was beat and I thought it was nothing anyway. Then, to my horror, the man spoke and said “What’s going on?” It was the response of the woman that made me realize they were actually there. She said, “He should be able to see us any second now.” Evidently, she had assumed that because I had not reacted, I had not seen them. I sat up in bed and screamed. It’s interesting for me to note how they responded to my fear by attempting to sooth me with their touch. To me, though they did appear very human in physical characteristics, they were clearly not. They may not have known what I saw as I looked at them, due to the fact that pure horror would no doubt be the norm in such a situation. Touching me made matters much worse, as I kicked, and punched my way past them, I began running through the house screaming. In each room there were more of them, all trying to gently catch me and I suppose calm me down so they could tell me whatever it was they had to say. I’m sure I must have bruised them up in my state of terror, for I heard them let out little moans of pain when I struck them and they did let me momentarily evade them. Our chase ended with me cornered on top of the washing machine, screaming in horror as these people had their hands all over me, which rather than comfort me, was like having them pour spiders on me. And they did become frustrated, and were saying, “Stop screaming!”, “Listen!”, “Calm down!”, “We have something to tell you.” Now, of course, I at age six was responding very properly, and I say, it was them as adults who failed their mission, and thus, failed me. But then, perhaps they were meant to fail. Suddenly, my mother was in the doorway saying “Andrew, Andrew, it’s ok, stop screaming.” She turned on the light and the thing I remember were her eyes as they grew wide and she turned her head looking directly at them. They had pulled their arms back and stood up straight, all turning their heads, seemingly surprised, they looked directly at her. There we all were, in the laundry room, at four in the morning or so, with my mother and some non-human, but human looking monsters staring at each other. They stayed that way for about one and a half seconds or so, which is a really long time believe it or not, then, they vanished.

I am amazed to this day that my mother maintained her composure as she did, considering the circumstances. She did look pretty shaken, as she turned her head, saying to me “No one’s here, it’s just your fever.” Yeah whatever. It did sound pretty good at the time though. Other than that, as I said, I would see them at a shy distance on the street for many more years to come. That however, never happened again.

Then there was the mother of all supernatural events, for me anyway, and so far, and I will cross my fingers on this one. It happened very late at night too, but was very different. This time, I wasn’t sick, and I was woken up by of all things an evil glowing duck. In a way it’s kind of funny…but not really. I woke up and looked over to my left, and on a small stool next to my bed was the glowing duck, and you know, what I say here, well, it really doesn’t do any justice to this sort of thing, because the reality is just so much more powerful than anything we could ever say. I mean it’s one thing for me to tell you about the glowing duck, but it’s another altogether for you to see it. So this thing is at the side of my bed, and it looks like a duck, except it’s glowing from the inside like an x-ray or something, and it had no eyes, just glowing holes where it’s eyes should have been, and it was quite animated, which of course means, it was moving and alive, sort of. And you know when you see something like that, well it’s like a fifty on the scary scale of one hundred, but when you see it move a little bit, even just adjusting it’s posture, well, that is like an additional fifty extra scary points. And so, there I am looking at this horrible thing, and the thing has some kind of invisible arms or something that are holding my entire body in place, and not so that I was paralyzed like the aliens are said to do, but more like actual arms or like an invisible snake, you know? So, I start screaming, really loud, and the thing tightens it’s grip on my body so that I can’t even breath anymore. Now, that is a more meaningful way to get someone’s cooperation, but this evil glowing duck didn’t come to tell me anything, and instead asked me the question, “Who are you and why are you here?” Of course, had I known at the time, I would have told him what ever I could, but what did I know? And so when he relaxed his supernatural grip, all I did was start screaming again.

This was really an interesting ordeal, because the duck thing spoke to me like a stern old man would speak, and not to a child, but to an adult. At first, he held me hard so I couldn’t breath, and then he started shaking me, and you know soon I stopped screaming. And a lot of time went by, and all he did was keep asking me that same question over and over again, until finally he stopped asking and just stood there looking at me. For a very long time he stood there, and then he relaxed his grip and his glow faded away and slowly he turned and went away right through the wall.

This time my mother was not so heroic, this time she did come in the room, but instead of saving me or coming over telling me the duck was just a dream, she grabbed my brother who slept in the bed next to me, and who like myself was screaming, but unlike myself was free from the creatures grasp. She grabbed him and together they left me there with that thing. It might sound as though I am bitter, but I am not, not because they left me there without even trying to fight the thing, not because they didn’t try to negotiate with the thing, if I am bitter at all, it is only because my family spent my life trying to tell me nothing ever happened. Like the night I was shot, that didn’t happen either. They could do nothing to the duck, and I don’t blame them for running away, I will only point out, that this is the natural reaction a person has when they see an authentic supernatural creature, absolute terror and a primeval knowledge that to fight is to die. I think their cowardice though, also shows in there betrayal of me to Machine itself, I don’t think I would leave the brother of my son to face that creature alone, but then, I am not really my mothers son, so I guess it’s a bit different.

What I find more interesting about this, is who was that duck? What was it? It must have certainly been unfamiliar in any way with any officialdom of whatever project my life was governed by, meaning it was neither connected to our government, nor was it an alien. It was a creature which, regarded, or perhaps I should say, regards, the Earth as either his home or his property, and I think that is so fascinating. I also wonder where did it see me, and how did it come to find me in my bed? I suppose it saw me somewhere on the street and simply followed me. I wonder if it would think of itself as a ‘protector’ of humanity? And then I wonder, aloud if the creature can read, I wonder, why our world is in such a trashed state when there are supernatural ducks who I know are capable of doing just about anything they want…Why a creature like that could have an audience with anyone on Earth, including any world leader. Like a Superduck, but where have they been? Shaking little babies in there beds? And you know, it really sort of makes me wonder if humanity holds any real position of importance at all in our world, you know what I mean?

Also, just to give you a bit of interesting information on how the duck might have noticed me, I think it’s about the bodies electro-magnetic field. See, everything alive has an electro-magnetic field that is produced by the cellular activity and perhaps if we want to dare say, also it’s soul, but at least, it’s cellular activity. So if you could see such fields with your eyes, a human, and a dog would look a bit different, as would a plant and other things, in fact, a life form could conceivably be identified just by this field. The field is generated by it’s cells and it’s cells are generated by it’s DNA. You know what’s also really fascinating? Among human life, there must exist some people whose eyes can see such fields, and you know, they could so easily identify anyone who was an alien to our world, including me. I wonder how many years they would live before they understood what they saw, and I wonder what, if anything and to whom they might say something, if they saw some one who wasn’t human. It of course may be that what I saw on the ‘Black People’ was also just such a field.

People following me as a kid…

So, I was maybe like 18, and I was down at this Metro link Station in Downtown LA Looking for a train. I was walking up and down different stares looking for my train, that’s at union station, and this black guy walks right up to me and with a big smile says “Andrew”, just as he says that, he puts both his hands on my shoulders and stops me. So I say yeah, and he looks around and asks me; “Can you do me a favor, can you just wait right here for just a minute?” And then over come a few people, you know maybe four or five, and he nods his head to them and says “Ok, here he is, we’re all fine.” So, there we were, all together, me and whoever ‘they’ were, but they knew my name, and they looked official, so I said “What’s going on?” And they all disappeared, fading into the crowd. And who were they, and why were they shadowing me? I was 18 and I an absolute, total nobody. This was even before the Movement.

People have been following me in hordes my entire life, though I mostly never noticed, mostly. As a kid, periodically those people would slip-up, lose me, and then panic. When they found me, they’d invariably shout something like “HEY, HEY, I FOUND HIM! HERE HE IS, RIGHT HERE!” I’d stop and wait for all these people to come over and I would wait for them to explain, but of course they never did. Instead, everyone would just sort of look like “Uh-oh, what do we do?” I would ask them “Who are you, what do you want?” They would never say anything, until my late teens, when I began to get really upset and I was a lot bigger of course, then they would apologize, “I’m sorry sir, may I go now sir?” Now if you think that’s weird, over the years, do to the frustrating aspects of such encounters, I had actually developed a personal policy of how I dealt with these people. As a boy I said nothing, as a young man, my policy was one of hostility, where I would scream at them. In my early twenties I was more laid back and my policy was one of ‘who cares about the weirdos following me?’ One time when I was in University I heard these two women talking, about fifty or so feet away. As I approached, one pointed at me and said “That’s him, right here.” I stopped and the woman covers her mouth and gasps, realizing she had said that out in the open, and I realized it was, one of ‘those things’, I smiled and gave her friend a cutesy hand wave, to her delight. I was thinking about my policy in 2000, casually reviewing it, when I kind of thought about it clearly for the first time in my life. It’s funny that I had never deeply considered any of this ‘in your face’ stuff before. I mean, I did spend time thinking about it, but never really properly, using logic and determination, you know? I used to think that maybe these people were from the future or something, and like uh, I was famous then or something, but even that didn’t make too much sense, but if it wasn’t the future, how could it be present? I wasn’t anyone you see, at least not in my mind. It was in my review of this policy of mine, that I faced one more clue that the conspiracy I thought I had only recently suffered, had in fact always been with me, leaving me with the old question, why?

I hate to say this to you, but most likely, there has been a very large element of mind control in my life, governing my reality, dismissing for me that which was indismissable.

And speaking of mind control, one time, when I was in my military training, on one fine Sunday afternoon I took a nap in my bunk, and what a great sleep I had. When I woke, I was so refreshed, the best sleep ever, I got up and stretched feeling just great. The room was dead silent and I must certainly have been alone, but then I looked over and to my surprise all my roommates were there with a bunch of the other guys from the platoon, and they were all looking so sad at me, like so depressed you can’t imagine. It was pretty weird, and one guy said to me; “What are you going to do Murphy?” So I said, “About what?” That was what I thought, about what, you know? They told me, all of them told me, that as I slept, the asshole Drill Sergeant (a guy named McGee incidentally) had come in and woke me up, and that I had got up out of bed, punched him in the face, picked him up, walked out into the hall, threw him on the ground and told him if he ever woke me up again I would kill him. Yeah, I don’t know what they were talking about, cause I’m a very nice and non-aggressive person and I just don’t ever, ever do things like that. But they were so convincing, that I almost believed them almost…then a moment after I left the room I heard one of them start laughing hysterically, and just when I thought ‘Ah ha a trick after all’, he said to the others “He doesn’t remember!” And later, as we stood outside waiting to go eat, the Drill Sergeant walked out and sure enough someone had indeed punched him in the face! I do hope it was me, cause he was such an asshole!

The Sliming…

I first understood what the slime was from my friend Steve of Oakland back in 1997. He described to me a horrible experience when he had the unfortunate opportunity to be sent to prison back in the 1980’s. It was less than a month after his arrival in San Quentin prison, that one morning while he was showering slime began to emit from his skin. It was as if the water itself turned to slime as it hit his skin. He explained to me very carefully how the slimy matter is water soluble and one only needs to rinse thoroughly and it’s all over shortly. Steve said that everyone he knew in prison had had this experience, and insisted that this was part of some kind of illegal experiment. He also said how he saw so many men screaming in horror when they had this experience, but not him he told me. He said it only happened once to anyone and that it was only a symptom of a toxin or some such thing.

When he first said this, as hard as I tried, I could not contain my laughter. I thought that something must be true and pictured Steve with this slimy stuff coming out of him and not knowing what to do. He was furious and said it wasn’t funny, he was dead serious and told me that he had all sorts of ongoing health issues which he relates to this incident. It was a very strange tale to be certain and though it was perhaps hard to believe the way it was told, I soon did believe. After all, what would be the purpose of such a lie told in one of those non-boastful, depressing, sad private chats between friends. But there was something odd, and that was that if it were an experiment, it would have ended rather than plaguing everyone Steve knew, and if it was not an experiment, people would complain, and even if nothing was ever done, it would be a well known legend. So, though I did believe what he said, sort of, at the same time I knew what he said was impossible. For another two years I held the knowledge of what the slime is and what to do when it comes, but it wasn’t until 2000 that I understood why he told me this lie.

Sure enough as you might have expected, I have had this experience. It happened after I had joined the army and had been sent to Korea. One morning in February of 2000 as I stepped into the shower a strange slime began emitting from my skin. I was stricken by terror, and you know, this kind of thing is really very alien and it falls into the category of impossible horror. I couldn’t even breath, I was so terrified, and then I remembered what Steve had told me. I remembered how he had said it just washes off and I calmed down totally, watching this happen and washing it all off. I even held it in my hand and looked at it, and indeed it was as if the water had reacted to my skin and had changed. I couldn’t take that too well though and just closed my eyes and let it pass. It seemed yet, one more of those things in my life that just sorta happens. Totally absurd, without any plausible explanation, unspeakable to anyone and yet, there it is. The worst part of such things is their interference in your daily life, as I said, unspeakable, and on that morning, my routine was rather tight on time and the slime came in two waves. The second wave was my moment of near panic, not because an actual alien event was occurring, not because imaginary toxins must surly have been flowing through my veins, condemning me to a slow, agonizing, certain death, and not because the Army was just at that moment experimenting on me, no, none of those things, for even then, I didn’t believe any of that, my fear was that I would be late to morning formation. I was, and of course what was one to say, “Gee, I’m really sorry for being late First Sergeant, but I was emitting this slime from my skin and it just wouldn’t stop coming.” No, I don’t think so. I was late often to the morning formation, and the company commander, Captain Simpkins, had started this really weird thing just for me, and me alone. He would wait in total silence for me to arrive, and I swear to God man, when I was in formation on time we never did that, but if I wasn’t there, it was six thirty sharp, you know? What a jerk. So it became really agonizing for me, as for a few seconds I began to worry that it might go on for a while. More absurd than all that is the way I didn’t concern myself with it beyond the experience itself. I simply put it out of my mind.

I really do not believe the Army experiments on it’s men, and frankly, considering the way Steve just happened to tell me all about this weird thing and all of what one can expect, I think it is obvious they knew it was going to happen and were mentally preparing me for the occurrence. Other than Steve, I have never heard of this thing anywhere else. I believe that it must be some sort of enzyme being expelled from the body, probably representing a physical maturation of some kind. Looking at it now, I find it a bit more interesting for another reason. They said I was genetically engineered, but only to the extent that my brain had been restylized in the form of the other creature, but that alone could not have produced such an event. The reality of it, is that whatever reacted to the water, had an extreme effect on it, and was perhaps more powerful than bleach might be, and something like that does not come out of a normal human body. I had for a long time held on to the idea that I was at least mostly human, but I don’t think so anymore. My organs appear essentially the same as yours, my blood, is even type O+, but I think under all that which appears so common, is most likely, something very alien, gooey fluids probably. And I bet you, that if you examined my DNA, you would clearly see what made that slime.

Steve, I would like to point out is the same man who parked directly behind me the first night I arrived in Oakland (I spent more than a few nights in my miserably uncomfortable Mazda). Steve also was called over to a black sedan by it’s driver in 2000, which I identified as a government vehicle, that proceeded to follow me for several blocks to a BART station, rather obnoxiously I might add. But then I also saw him once exit a parking garage of the Federal building in Oakland, a garage protected by an armed guard, with signs marking it as ‘No Public Access’, ‘Official Vehicles Only’ and you know others like that. The same place I had followed ‘them’ back to in ’99. Of course the man denies all of it, saying I was ‘seeing things’, which of course I was, wasn’t I? I was seeing him and things.

The British guy at my boat…

In the fine month of July, of the year 1997, just before I went totally broke for the first time and moved out of Los Angeles, a very strange character approached me while I was working away on my boat. I had put it up for sale, trying to get a bit of money to move away, but so far there had been very little interest. It was a fifty foot 1929 ELCO, and was a beautiful masterpiece of Americana, and I couldn’t even sell it. Anyway, this character, starts chatting with me about my boat and how it sure was a great boat and harmless stuff like that. He mentioned that he had seen a flyer listing it up for sale, and I started getting my hopes up that I might just sell it. When I asked him if there were a way I could make a deal with him, he said the strangest thing. He turned to me with a coy smile and said, “Well, I would like to buy it, but you see I have a problem with the IRS and if I could just get them off my back, then I could get ahead a little. Yes, that dam IRS…You know what I mean Andrew?” Now upon a cursory inspection this does not appear strange at all, but the problem was that I hadn’t told him my name, and oddly enough I also had a problem with the IRS which no one knew about. The way he said that was it was very clear he was alluding to my IRS problem, and I caught it then. I said, “You know my name, that’s funny because I don’t believe I said my name.” To which this man responded, “You didn’t. How about that.” I said, “Your with the Mafia or with the Great Conspiracy or something aren’t you? Don’t tell me anything, I don’t want to be involved in whatever your up to.” What a thing to say. He said, “You don’t want me to tell you anything, you don’t want to know anything? Well, OK, I did just want to tell you one thing though, and that’s that we like you Andrew, We like you a lot, and if you’re the future, we’re looking forward to it.” Wow, and isn’t that just a mouthful now. Boy I sure bet they don’t still feel that way! Their sweating at the future now!

I extrapolate from this that this man knew way too much about me to be a common slime. And just what would an uncommon slime like this be concerned about me for anyway? And how about the fact that he’s British? And just who is this ‘we’? And why is it that this evil ‘we’ likes me? And what did he mean ‘if I am the future’? Gee, I really wonder what was he talking about? So, I will tell you, this man was a British agent and I am a genetically engineered man, not even entirely human, maybe a lot less human than most of them ever thought, and he was concerned with me, as my life has been encaged by a giant conspiracy of the most sinister kind imaginable, and he liked me, because he had never heard what I might say to him if I knew the truth. Now, after 2000, I said a few things you know, like ‘they stole my life’ and they hate to hear that sort of thing you know. I have done a few things to shake this cage off my life, to little avail I may add, but just enough the get a rise from the evil conspiracy and today I would like to throw a question out there and maybe that guy just might hear it. I would like to simply ask; “How could he do such things to me?” That was eight years ago, and since then, well, I won’t vent my feelings here, but you know, I did get shot in 2003 and have had more than a few unnecessary difficulties, and you know, I don’t think I like these people very much, not the British guy, and not the tens of thousands of others who went before or came after, I don’t like them at all, and I can only say, you know, it should be fun if I am indeed ‘the future’, but I don’t think they will enjoy my New World Order, no not at all.

Guy I met hitchhiking…

This is a weird story, but it has several important implications, so I include it. In December of ’97 I went for a brief trip down to Southern California just prior to starting a new job. I didn’t really have any money, just enough to get a room when I got back, but I am a big believer in relaxation and always think that a lack of money should never stop you from a good vacation. Unfortunately, on my return, I ran out of travel money and only made it as far as Bakersfield before I had to start hitchhiking. It was a cold afternoon, just inside of Fresno, a town not known for it’s welcome mat for vagrants. The sun was starting to set and I was becoming a bit concerned as to where I might spend the night.

In those days I was unaware of the conspiracy around me, and being naive to the nature of the pure evil which surrounded me, I was unafraid to travel in such ways. I suppose fear is not the right word, it’s more like today I am really tired of the weird hassles I have brought to my life by way of opening my life to such strangers. Being an alien, conspiracy people who are given the opportunity to speak to me will always tell me their life story and complain about everyone they know, like they want my sympathy or understanding or something, you know what I mean? They do tell me some pretty cool gossip once in a while, which can be helpful. Anyway, in those days, I thought it was exciting to turn my life over to the fate of the Gods, but today I can’t stand any of that. It’s so boring to hear the stories, and I know they are all spies and you know, all I really want to do is ask them how they could steal my life. Anyway, that is why I was hitchhiking.

So, I was quite pleased when this strange person pulls up in an RV offering me a ride. I got in, sat down, the guy pulls on the freeway and right away starts talking. He introduced himself, asked my name, we shook hands and he says rather matter of factly “Now listen Andrew, ok, so I was parked in that lot across the street back there and I was about to drink my beer and relax. See, I’ve been driving all day, I’m coming from Arizona, and when I saw you, I thought you looked out of place and were just asking for trouble. So, I decided to pick you up before someone else did. Now, I will give you a ride if you want, all the way up to Sacramento, but first I’m going to drink my beer. Now, you’re not my prisoner and don’t think that I’ve done anything other than give you this offer of a ride by going out of my way. If your uncomfortable or afraid you are welcome to leave when I stop and continue on the next onramp no worse for the wear.” He got off the freeway at the next exit and parked in this empty parking lot of a closed restaurant. Next to the restaurant, was a chevron gas station and some motel.

I was somewhat taken aback and thought of course this was clearly some kind of set up. I figured the guy was probably some kind of homosexual, though he didn’t carry himself that way. He was a small guy and clearly had something up his sleeve. I looked at the door and the thought of a cold night in some Fresno bushes at the side of the road really didn’t appeal to me very much. I looked out the window surveying the environment, I looked at the restaurant, and the sidewalk and the grass growing there. I remembered that morning there had been a terrible frost in the central valley and the grass I saw earlier, much farther to the south in Bakersfield had been frozen. I somehow knew this man wasn’t going anywhere that night and it seemed to me that this would be the perfect place for me to spend the night if I were safe. I looked back at him and you know it was really odd, because he looked scared of me, which was comforting, since, after all, if he was afraid, he was harmless and it was probably safe. So, I smiled and said “No, that’s fine if you want to drink your beer, I appreciate the ride.” I thought his game would be that his RV would not start and then he’d try hitting on me. My plan would be to refuse his illicit offer, but still remain the night. For him it would be a let down, but for me it was perfect. I would easily make Oakland by the early afternoon the next day, indeed, I felt very lucky.

We chatted for a few minutes before he tells me he’s gay and finds me very attractive and asked if I were gay. I informed him I wasn’t interested, to which he responded that that was just fine and that he would still give me a lift to Sacramento and made it a point to tell me that was not why he picked me up. It was strange, not because of what he said, but rather his casualness of it all, like it was a bigger setup. Of course as I had expected, when it was time to go, his RV would not start. He said his starter had a problem freezing up when the engine was warm and we would have to wait several hours. I have had this problem before and since I had expected it to work out this way it didn’t really matter. I kind of thought though that he would keep trying to hit on me though since we went through that before the little breakdown. I was wrong though, he in fact wasn’t even gay, I think. Later he saw a woman, and having forgotten himself, he motioned with a head nod and said “Check her out man.”

We chatted for a quite a while about life and various things including where he was coming from and how he had exited a business partnership he had with a friend where they had made and sold arts and crafts in a little store. As we talked, I looked at the little knickknacks he had from Arizona on his dashboard, picking them up, he would tell me what each one was, and then I found among them two Arizona license plates stuck against the windshield facing outward. I picked them up without seeing the front and so I didn’t know what they were until I turned them around. He said yeah those are just my plates, let’s make sure we leave them against the glass there, in case the police come by. But when I looked at them, the numbers were for two different vehicles and then I remembered he had California plates on this RV. And this sort of thing, well this can be a big problem in California, especially on the highways, if you display different plates around your vehicle, the Highway Patrol will run them all and stop you to either take them or arrest you, but for certain they will give you hell, 100% of the time. Young people will do this sort of thing, like buy an old decorative plate from another state and glue on their car for decoration, and they always get yelled at. So here was this idiot who was going to draw the authorities down on us with his stupid decoration. I had to object, I mean, really, we wouldn’t even be able to park by the highway like that without the cops seeing those plates and running them and knocking on the door and insisting on seeing all our papers and checking us, which meant that my two stupid traffic warrants out of LA would show up and I would probably get arrested. Dam! What a stupid jerk! I couldn’t sleep there. So he starts to explain “No, No, you see, the plates on this RV are from California, but they are several years old, and this plate on the left is the current plate for the RV in Arizona.” But then, why not put that plate on the vehicle, since it was current? He shook his head and said, “No, No, again you don’t understand, Of course that’s what I was going to do, but first off, since I was coming to California, they told me I had to put my California plates back on, but since they are so old, I really don’t know if they have my name listed on their computer with them anymore. So I decided to put my Arizona plate in the window so the police would look it up and on that my name is listed, ok, do you understand?”

Well, I understood he was wrong, because first off, the California DMV did not at that time have a linked database with other states, except for the national databases like stolen cars, and wanted killers, and stuff like that. We can add CIA guys to that list also, but I wasn’t thinking that right then. So, we started arguing about the computer systems of California and Arizona and the various national systems, and the police systems, and he keeps trying to talk about the military computers relating to the police computers and throws out fancy system names and I feel like choking him cause I keep telling him they don’t list civilian vehicles in those systems and he obstinately insists that ‘Of course they keep civilian vehicles on file’, and I’m like what are you talking about man, your name is no where on any of those systems. And I ask him, “Well, what about the second license plate here, I mean what the hell is that gonna do?” And he tells me’ “Oh, well that’s to my partners Toyota and well, I decided to bring it on the trip just because if this RV plate from Arizona doesn’t show my name, you know by accident or something, well then, this one I know does show my name, because we checked it once, so you know it’s cool that way.” Through it all he showed me his registration so I wouldn’t worry if the police did come by and kept saying not to worry because ‘they’ knew he was traveling that day and everything was fine. The ‘they’ he was speaking about were the California police, all of them, and at the very least the Highway Patrol, and on that insane point he did insist, ‘They knew him’, “Of course, they know me!” What was I to do? I very calmly explained to this idiot that we at least had to take his friends Toyota plate off the window because that really would be a problem and really his name didn’t show up on it unless it was registered to him.

He looked at me and sort of cocked his head a little and said “Registered? You mean like with the state?” I nodded, “Yeah, the state”. He stared at me for a moment and then said something, which people have said many times in my life before, “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?” And how funny that is you know, because what could they ever possibly mean? He then apologized to me, saying of course I was right, and removed the Toyota plate, still insisting on keeping the Arizona plate for the RV, which I thought was maybe a good idea anyway. And then he just looked at me with the strangest look and finally said, “Andrew, do you recognize me?” I asked him, “Have we met before?” He said, “Well, sort of…” and I say, “Well, how’s that? He just shrugs, squints his eyes and says “It’s amazing…amazing.” I asked him if he was famous, and he said “In some circles.” I said “Is that why you think the police would know you?” and he said “Yeah”. “So how are you famous? Are you a musician or something?” I asked him, and he said, “Well, I was in a small band in Arizona and we were pretty well know, but that’s not how they would know me.” I did ask more questions of his ‘fame’, but he would say no more, and you know, I felt really comfortable then, like we were best friends for twenty years. I was so intrigued by how this man thought I should recognize him, and it became a funny game for the two of us then, as I tried to get him to say, and he cleverly and obviously evaded the true answer, soon we were both laughing, and you know, to me, it didn’t really matter.

There was one more small event which is notable before the real monster event occurred. At his urging we walked over to get some more beer from the gas station, and all was fairly mundane until this Iranian guy came in after us, gets in line, and then says out loud “Hey man I’m serious you know, we can do it right now.” And my benefactor spy says, “No, I’m not interested, it’s worth way more than that.” The Iranian guy says, “Well all right, but if you change your mind just let me know.” They went back and forth a bit more like that and we left the store. I asked who was he, and what was he talking about? So he explains to me, that this guy wants to buy his RV, and all day he has been doing that, making his offer over and over. He said the man first came over to him at the Colorado river, which was about eight or nine hundred miles from where we were standing, and had asked about buying it, but had offered only half what it was worth. So, I didn’t understand, were they traveling together? How could they have several conversations and keep meeting… And believe it or not, that really does mean something. But that is nothing when considering what occurred next.

We sat in the RV and drank some beer, when one of the most remarkable things I have ever seen in my life happened. It all began with several sherrifs cars pulling up into the lot. They gave us a cursory examination and then retreated to the rear of the lot. My ride hid his beer, checked the mirrors and said, “Something’s going on.” We sat there for a while watching them, and he tells me some more stories of his life and how he had been in prison for drugs and some stuff about that. As he tells a tale or two, we watch the authorities preparing to raid the motel next door. He said he could tell what they were doing from his personal experience and began narrating the entire operation to me, pointing out all of the quirks of the obvious undercover agents suddenly hanging around the gas station. “Those guys are probably DEA, those guys are probably local, and those scumbags over there are probably snitches or local undercover.” At first I thought, ‘no way’, but soon I could see everything he was talking about. He was really upset, saying “Someone’s whole life is about to be ruined forever.” While I couldn’t be sure at first, it appeared to be like fifty or one hundred people were involved. The sheriffs were driving in and out of the lot, along with a whole bunch of unmarked vehicles. We were in the center of the lot and had a great view, and my ride said he hoped they didn’t ask us to move, and a man who identified himself as the owner of the motel came over and did ask us to move, telling us that the police needed the lot and we were in their way. But since we couldn’t start the RV, and the owner nor anyone else wanted to help us push the behemoth out of the lot, they simply ignored us. It was quite ridiculous, as we sat there for over an hour watching them, they were everywhere and we had a front seat view. They eventually did raid the poor victim and even gathered behind the RV with their guns drawn before they all rushed in together. What an amazing thing to see, from start to finish and narrated by an expert at that.

I was to carry that knowledge with me into my future when they came after me in 1999. At that time in ’99, I considered myself fortunate to have seen that raid, but today, I feel that it was all staged, or at least the part that I was put there to see, was set-up. It was necessary, that in order for me to feel the fear and pressure of a man under such massive surveillance, that I be able to identify such surveillance. That was a strange evening, it was like a crash course on how to identify undercover agents. Today I could give my own seminars on the subject.

Harley and the dog whistles…

My hearing has always been very good. I had it checked when I was in college because of a ringing in my ears, and at that time my hearing tested out as good as a new born baby, which is pretty startling. Of course, one might think that if I were an alien being than perhaps my hearing might not just be better, but it might also reflect different tone sensitivity. I can hear people talking at a great distance, especially if they do something like speak quietly over a running engine, I hear them so easily over the noise, because the sounds are different. It’s like someone color blind hiding blue strips on top of solid red thinking that since they can’t see it, no one can.

One fine evening my friend Harley stopped by my place for to chat. As we were chatting my back was turned and I was cleaning or cooking or some such thing when I heard the most awful noise ever. I stopped what I was doing, turned around and my friend is looking so strange at me as he puts away this little whistle he’s got in his hand, and then to my dismay, takes out another one. I, kind of confused, kind of disturbed say, “What’s that you’ve got there, a little whistle?” to which he responds by blowing into it making, an even worse noise that the first, at which point I yelled furiously at him. He explains they are dog whistles and that I can’t hear them.

I extrapolate from this event that I can hear dog whistles, which means I am part dog? Perhaps. Of course one can say there seems to be a little mystery as clearly Harley seemed to suspect that I would be able to hear these whistles, which does make me ask yet one more time, why?

Sergio the French spy…

I first met Sergio at the end of June in 2000 after being introduced to him by Drew, an acquaintance of mine, who worked at the front desk of the rat hole Civic Center Hotel. On that first occasion, Sergio talked with Drew about how he had been living in a beautiful van with a friend, but that the police had impounded it for no reason. He kept saying how beautiful his van was and how he was very sad it was gone and how it was terrible that they can just take your stuff like that. I lived in a van for about six months and also had another van that I thought was ‘so beautiful’, illegally impounded one week after the Alameda incident by the Oakland police. I’ve met few people in my life who have lived this way and liked it as I did, and it’s funny because such a thing always evokes a strong sense of empathy and comradery. The next time I saw Sergio was a couple of weeks later at a local café. As I strolled over to the café I noticed a large number of federal agents around and made it a point to scan the environment for their intended victim. Inside the café I saw Sergio sitting in the corner by the window. As I sipped my coffee, I saw Sergio giving a cautious look out of the corner of his eye at them and thought ‘aha!’ Now you see, he saw them and that takes a trained eye, or at least some good paranoid instincts from someone who knows they are under the gun. I think Sergio was a French spy, and though I perhaps would not have used those words myself, it was what Sergio later told me he was, although half joking. The other half, which was not joking confirmed he was a spy. I saw him again on the street looking at me, as if he wanted to speak to me, but on that occasion there were some very aggressive looking counter spies mean mugging him, so I turned the other way. He wanted to speak to me then, without our government’s permission. I saw him again in late August a few days after I was told I was genetically engineered. On this occasion I had stopped by Drew’s place, where he again introduced me to Sergio. Finally we had an opportunity to speak, of course Drew would keep the conversation in it’s place, but still Sergio said a few tidbits which were telling. Sergio spoke a long time of how much he hated humanity and how much they had taken from him. Once that was laid out, he began a long dissertation about how he and I were so above the humans and how our grandchildren would simply have nothing to say to theirs. I pointed out to him that we were also humans, were we not? To which he closed the subject by saying; “Well, maybe it’s a gene or something…”

I of course have a great deal to say on the subject and did so even then, but you see, Sergio was not being coherent in what he was saying, and in short, I thought it was a dishonest conversation from the start. I had an idea that Sergio was a French spy from the very beginning, it was not my idea alone, the voices told me so, they even showed me pictures of his house back in France and I certainly knew he was a human, so what was he talking about? This manipulating fool, who could think I was so unintelligent that I would not know that much at least? It was a series of statements designed to elicit a response from me, a response that his masters in the French government had wanted to hear; how did I really feel about humanity? My existence here on Earth means a lot you see, and there are ideas that only very complex, logical analysis will bring you too, ideas that can present a very dark side to the equation.

Fortunately we have had many of these ideas explained to us from our Hollywood movies, like the movie ‘Species’. The theory presented was that two species cannot exist on the same world because the more advanced species will eventually destroy the less advanced. It takes the concept to the extreme, to the level of infectious, kind of like the movie ‘The Thing’. Wow man, I’m the Thing! There are other ideas you know, but they kind of all point to the same problem, two species on the same world, two species of disproportionate capacities, at some point the advanced species will be in control, and the sixty-four thousand dollar question is ‘what will happen then?’ I think they worry very deeply about this sort of thing…did you know, they haven’t even let me speak to any of the others, I think the reason is this fear, the fear of just how many is enough to destroy humanity. One man works as one man, two men work as a million. As I have said, the government knows seven of us exist, and it is said that there may be more, as many as twelve. So, for us to impact the world in a way so as to bring an end to this civilization, well, just how many of us would it take? Will such a day occur in a thousand years, with machine guns and artillery our side, finally having cornered you all, and having had ’enough’ of humanity we decided ‘take no prisoners’…or could it possible be that it would take only two of us? Perhaps, that is why we are ‘here’, you know what I mean? It would be foolish to ignore such a possibility. And considering our modern world, where weapons of mass destruction do in fact exist, it is conceivable that a single person with the proper skills could destroy all life on Earth. And I will tell you guys here, there is a lot more out there in terms of weapons than I care to even say, but be clear, humanity and this civilization is not just in danger, it is destined for destruction. There are weapons of death that could kill every single person on the Earth in less than four seconds. I really don’t see how humanity can possibly survive, even another one hundred years without some kind of outside help. Maybe this is where things like, the ‘Evil Duck’ come into play. Of course, that is irrelevant to the question the French were asking me on that day. How did I truly feel about my human cousins? Well, of course I love you all, don’ch ya know it!

You know, as far as the destruction of civilization goes, I think there is another more powerful concern to those men of power; how many of us would it take to bring them down politically? I guarantee you that with a bit of money, or a bit of skillful use of communications, I as one man know what could be done to change American politics. Two of us would motivate each other and I tell you, wow man, what I could do if you gave me just one. I could bring down the Bush administration in a second and I bet the government itself in a pretty short while. I don’t mean by advocating violence either, I just mean by speaking, telling the people things.

The Abductee girl…

On fine day in November of 2000 I was in the Barns & Noble café in the West Side Pavillion mall of Los Angeles reading about aliens, trying to figure things out. As I was reading, in walks this woman carrying these two inflatable dolls shaped like aliens. She looked kind of weird, like her elevator was stuck between floors. She was dressed like an Earth girl, with grunge clothes, that might not have meant to be grunge, and braided hair that was only half way finished. She had a permanent smile, but not a smile of happiness, rather, one of madness. I sometimes see people with that type of smile, and I never get it, like why are they smiling, I mean, if they were traumatized, where does the reflex to smile come in? Personally, I prefer to scream. Anyway, she stood out very much and people kept asking her about her dolls, and anytime they did, she would begin to laugh uncontrollably, and the more they asked the louder and harder she laughed. Now, I’ve never seen post traumatic stress disorder before, but I guarantee you she had it, and everyone knew it. Everyone in the place was staring in a strange way, like we all knew this woman was for real. Just her mere presence with those stupid dolls, was the most convincing statement of alien existence that I have ever seen.

The thing about it was that it seemed like the aliens were using her to signal me, like “Hey, Andrew this is all for real, wake up and smell the coffee” you know, that sort of thing. I then noticed something else, the workers in the café were very upset and seemed close to panic. It was like they were all secret agents spying on me because I’m part alien, when this agent of the aliens comes in to tip me off to reality, an interloper into their project. If that wasn’t enough, the staff began to move in that direction, and one of the customers steps between the girl and the staff saying, “No, no, no…” and waved his hand to them as he said that. It was such a clear command order that I assumed he certainly must have been a manager or something, but over time I came to learn, that he indeed was just a customer. It is important to say that the girl was not bothering people and would not have normally garnered too much attention, and nor was the staffs motion in her direction too quick or out of the ordinary so as to indicate any real response, except to those who might have been watching a bit more deeply. She sat at the table behind me, and when I looked at her, her eyes looked just to my left, her body froze up and she didn’t smile anymore, but moved her head in the most creepy manner, sort of back and forth on her shoulders, almost like an exotic dancer might, only, much slighter. Her response to me was more terrible than everything, and though I had thought I should speak to her, I was horrified by that look her face, just horrified.

The times I’ve seen me…

So of course I did say that I have never seen another one of my clones before, but that’s not quite true, I have had glimpses and not for long, but what I specifically meant, was that I have never spoken to or had any significant interaction. But I have visibly seen such things before.

The first time this happened was back in 1999 when I was riding a BART train from Oakland over to San Francisco. My life was in chaos, I was being followed everywhere I went, the conspiracy was inescapable. Everytime I thought I’d seen everything, it would only get worse. From a couple of suits in a car occasionally watching me with disinterest, to hundreds of people with black helicopters circling overhead. (Not Kidding)

So, I get on this train and I’m in the front of the car, and as I step on I turn to my left making a half circle and hold the upper hand rail so that I am facing the door. And then, you know it kind of strikes me, like something really bad is on the train with me, you know like in the alien movies, where the guy turns around and down the hall is the alien just standing there looking at him. I was highly skilled at this chasing around and terrorizing game by this time, so naturally I step to the door to get the hell off the train, and of course, as it is the case in any bad B horror movie, the stupid doors close in my face. So, I’m now trapped on the stupid train, for the next five minutes, all the way across the tube to San Francisco’s Embarcadero station, with whatever monsters are standing down at the other end of the car, I slowly turn to see just what devastating thing fate has in store for me today. And can you believe it, you know what I saw standing down there? I saw four or five guys staring at me, except they all looked exactly like me. I was frozen in horror and I looked out the window into the blackness until the train stopped, and I ran like hell from that train.

The second time was in January 2001, as I was once again waiting for a train on the San Francisco side this time and oddly enough at the Embarcadero station also. So I was standing there on the platform, just minding my own business waiting for the stupid train, when I get this uncanny feeling that someone is watching me. I turned to look and from across the platform I saw this guy staring at me, as I looked over he smiled. He had sunglasses on, but I would recognize that face anywhere, it was mine.

Despite what everyone says about ‘Oh, I would have done it this way’, or ‘That’s not what I would have done’, the reality is that this type of situation evokes a powerful kind of horror, especially when it is being accompanied by other strangeness and it is not conducive to rational behavior; anyone who says otherwise is only demonstrating their stupidity and lack of experience. It’s not the sort of thing you are interested in having happen. There is another element to these events which won’t make much sense to you guys, but I’ll tell you anyway. Aliens have a kind of supernatural energy on them which is visible to a degree, and this I do believe, and though I can’t see into my own eyes, when I see ‘them’, they do not look ‘right’, and for something like that to be standing down the way just a few feet from you, is bad enough, but for it to look exactly like yourself, well the feeling is quite incomprehensible. When it happens, you don’t want any answers, because whatever might be said, it will be the end of your life as you know it, the answer is the problem, and all you want is for the event to end. Just think, if I had the courage to walk on over and say hello, what would they have said? Would they have told me that I had died on the roof in Alameda? Or perhaps they might have told me that I was indeed an alien, or what? What could they have said to me that would bring me comfort and happiness? Nothing, they could only have told me things that would have closed all possibility of me ever living a normal life again.

I do however believe I know what all that meant. First off, the guys on the train were not probably even going to speak to me at all, if they even spoke English, those men, I do believe were from my class, they were my age. Further, the reason there were four or five of them is kind of like, well, you know, we all have heard the story of someone seeing a kind of double you know, and those stories are like, well, who knows, I mean maybe it was themselves or something in a time loop, or whatever you can think of. But to have so many, well that is no time loop, it is no double, it is something really special. The reason they were there at all, wasn’t to speak to me, it was just to give me an idea of something a bit more meaningful than what the government was doing. Four guys who all looked like me, that means something, and though I had no idea, I could perhaps link that directly to the governments interest in me if I chose to be honest. And now just who was the solitary man on that platform? Well, on one occasion, where I was speaking to agent Heidi, I remarked to her that there were only ten people on the Earth, and I asked her if she knew that. Of course what I was talking about were that there are only ten fundamental personality types, with everyone representing their own unique variation. It’s a little theory of mine, but she didn’t know what I meant and thought I was talking about how many Hybrids there are. She responded to my statement, saying, “Yes, but only seven of their names are known.” I even said, “Oh you mean my hybrid brothers?” to which she cautiously nodded. And by the way, when you deal with spies they will do this nodding thing when they know people are listening, and they aren’t sure if they should say. I went on to explain to her what I had meant, but I extrapolate, that there are seven Hybrids. I wouldn’t have to extrapolate much, because this was said to me by many other people, usually in the odd way of using my birthday, 7/17/70, I was the seventh they would say…my whole life people said that to me, your number seven. Seven what? “Seven of seven, the seventh, Mr. Number seven, don’t you know?” Of course I didn’t know, but I do now, and it is my joy and pleasure to tell you.

For a long time I wondered what the others might look like, until one day it dawned on me that no doubt they look exactly like me. I believe we are clones of each other. In fact, I bet you that when the aliens do invade the Earth and set up their kingdom, we will probably find that there are certain entire classes of clones, with each class having some sort of specialty. I know two names for you as well, Mathew, he’s English and Ronni, he’s American and used to live in Orlando Florida. They are both Hybrids and now you know three names in total, of course, you know a bit more about me, but they say we are the same, especially when ‘they’ get drunk, they call me Mathew and say, “Andrew, Mathew, what difference is there?”

The statements of my friends…

I want to say a few things about all of the people herein enclosed, due to the simple reason that I have dared to call them my friends. I must say I use the term loosely and I do of course realize what a friend really is, indeed I know very well. A friend is a special person, it is a person you love as family, as your brother, your son, or you parents, you know, and the key to a friend is they love you too. A friend will not generally be found among the fools you get drunk with on Saturday night. In truth, I have had very few friends if any, and of the following people, I would tell you, that it might be said that Eric, was my friend, as was Trammy, demonstrated by their selfless confessions, and perhaps my love for them, although one can never be sure of what is really selfless. If I hate life, but I do like you and at the moment I decide to throw my life away, it seems I sacrifice it all for you, well, you may have an impression of friendship, but that might not be correct. Eric was tired of the CIA and said so, he saw them for what they were, a bunch of ‘lying sacks of shit’, (his words), and Trammy, well she did love me, but I always wonder when it comes to women, you know, if they love you, how much of their love is true love and how much is a simple desire to possess a man? It is reality and I’m sorry for that reality, because it’s rather depressingly far from the selflessness that makes up the legends of true heroes. I also want to point out something about the names of these people. There names are not real, except Trammy, but she wasn’t a spy. When a person enters the federal clandestine services they are given a choice of fake names. Pick one please, pick one for use on the streets among the American people, for they are our enemy and we wouldn’t want them to ever know your real name. Perhaps I embellish, but not by very much there. For certainly our government is our enemy. Anyway, the names below are not just fake, but are really stupid too, and if you were to try and track them down, well, you might find a few who remembered them, but you won’t find them in any computers anywhere. But then maybe you would, I mean, what do I know anyway.

Dave and Mary

Dave and Mary used to be my roommates. I had known them since 1997 and I really loved them, they were the closest thing I have ever had to family. I first met them at the flea market in Oakland when I had originally started selling there and I always liked them. We had rented the warehouse on 36^th Ave. together. It was out of concern for Dave and Mary that I had originally sent the letters. I thought they were naïve foolish people and wanted to protect them, I had no idea. In December of 2000 I was back in the Bay Area and had been invited to stay with them in their new warehouse in West Oakland. So, one fine evening I told Dave I had finally figured it all out and after some lead up said “I’m genetically engineered” to which he had no response other than a look of absolute horror so pure I was quite surprised. The next day I woke to laughter and the voice of my friend Mary laughing hysterically and saying “My minds been abducted.” The thing is, I never said anything about aliens! So, I ask you, why would they bring this up? Clearly they are in the loop. Then Mary had the gaul to tell me that I have to be careful who I say stuff like that to, stressing that “some people are vindictive and you could end up in a mental hospital if you aren’t careful.” Well, she is right about the fact that I sure had to be careful who I told that to; after all Dave felt free to blab to her and everyone else who came by the next day and they all felt free to mock me. Proof of the fact that Dave and Mary at least have no decency. Can you imagine mocking someone you were very close to that was under such immense stress? And here is where the nastiness of the spy comes in, for they make friends with those they target, only to provide a backdrop for the governments sick games, and who would do such a thing? Devils that’s who.

Dave and Sissy

The following week I moved into the basement of my friends Dave and Sissy’s house (for $300/mo. I should add). I pressed them for as much information as I could get, as I assumed that if I were a Hybrid, then they were for certain connected as well. One evening Sissy flat out told me that she worked for the CIA and I asked her to show me her ID, to which she scoffed they don’t issue field agents ID. I asked her how then could she identify herself in an emergency to the local authorities, and she told me that they give them a number, which is their ID. An interesting thing for a person who presented themselves as such a scummy loser like Sissy to say, in fact it’s more than interesting, it’s also true. I bet you didn’t know that. When I pressed her for more information she ended up telling me contradictory lies in the same thirty minutes and when I pressed her further pointing all this out to her, she became agitated and apparently fearful stating the same thing everyone told me, I needed to focus my life on my work. Oh, and by the way, it’s a felony to disclose the identity of an undercover CIA agent even if it is yourself, especially to the target of the operation. Sissy didn’t go to jail though, but I bet my friend Eric did. Anyway, I could fill the rest of this book with angry rants about Sissy, but instead I will tell you just one thing, there was a time when that individual held my highest respect of anyone I have ever known in my entire life, and that’s a hell of a thing to throw away. Losers, that’s what they do.

Dave was a much easier person and we got along very well. I was never able to get him to admit who he worked for but he was quite frank on several occasions. One evening he went out to walk his dog, and invited me along. It was really interesting, because you see, in the apartment building across the street the front ground floor unit had been rented just a few days before. In and out came a plethergy of persons, moving all kinds of things in, like a twenty-four hour party, without the party. I thought that it was the CIA or somebody setting themselves up over there because I had moved into this house, but I said nothing. No, it was not my place this time to say anything, rather it was the other plethergy of people who lived in Sissies house to constantly stare over there and constantly murmur to each other about those people. For seven days I watched everyone who happened to visit, sit down to chat with Sissy about her new neighbors, and this was not exactly open and in front of me, but rather semi-secret and a bit hostile; no not a bit hostile, let’s say very hostile, not hostile to me, but rather, the new ‘they’ across the street. Remember I can hear those whispers. So anyway, Dave wanted me to go with him for a little walk and as we stood on the front porch while Dave placed the leash on his dog, I looked across the street at the people standing about, watching us, and in particular watching me. I stood there for a long time, and then wondering what was taking Dave so long, I turned my head to see him looking at me so quietly, with these intense angry eyes. And he said to me “What are you looking at Andrew?” and I said, “Oh, I was just looking at the new neighbors.” He said, “Do you think those are new neighbors?”, “well, yeah, I mean aren’t they?” Now, I will tell you something that is very interesting from the world of national security, every once in a while a spy loses their composure, generally this is due to overwhelming emotion, and generally that emotion is anger. And so Dave stood their looking at me with this anger in his face that I had never seen from him before, and it was his moment you know, a moment of fury and he lost his composure. I do like to think that these people were truly my friends in the sense that they did love me as family, and it was just by a chance of fate that they were cast into my life, but they were happy to know me, and it was their friendship which confounded the operation against me, the operation which they had always been told held one specific purpose, but which in reality held the solitary purpose of my death. And whenever some such thing came along that was somehow squeezed into the operation in order to in fact take my life, it was my friends who interfered and saved my life. But, friends would also have felt a powerful sense of frustration at some beaurocracy which ignores the knowledge of it’s field agents who would have no doubt warned the Machine that such and such action would really injure me and possibly cause my very death. Of course, this is what I only like to think, it is not what I believe. And so Dave said to me, “Those aren’t neighbors Andrew, their spies.” And I said, “Oh, who are they spying on Dave?”, and Dave got really mad and clenched his teeth and said “YOU” in a kind of low growl. He then pointed over to them and said “Look at how many people they have, what are they all doing? There are not two who have been the same this week, and they go on twenty four hours a day. And look at that thing in the window, do you know what that is Andrew?” He pointed to an object which was disrupting the velour blinds, an object which though I never would have perhaps said, did look very much like a telescope. I said, “Well, I don’t know, maybe a piece of furniture?” He sighed and said, “It’s a telescope Andrew and anyone walking down this street could see that, including you.”

So we took our little walk and during the course of it two peculiar things happened. First Dave decided to have a little honest chat with me, which I always enjoy. He asked me a lot of questions, about Alameda, the letters, the CIA, and people following me everywhere, and he kept asking me, “Ok, so what you just said, do you believe that?” Finally, he said, if any of it were true, then surely, he was not who he said, and that much I must already know, yeah, and he gave me that mean look again, like he wanted to push me out into the street or something. So I said, “Yeah Dave, I guess you are someone totally different than I knew, so then they must have told you all about me, huh?” And he said, “Yes, they did.”, and this is the part that matters for me, and I asked him, “But Dave, did they really tell you that I am genetically engineered?”. That is the ultimate question for me, and unfortunately, no matter how many times I ask it, and no matter how many times people answer it, it is the one question that I can never truly believe, even if they say yes, which, on that night, my friend Dave did. With a slight growl I may add.

Unfortunately, our conversation was not very free and open, you see from the moment we left the house, these characters, who I couldn’t identify, I mean to me, one spy, two spy what’s the difference, but these characters seemed to interfere. On each block a couple of guys would walk past us, and I wasn’t sure at first, but it seemed they were whispering something to Dave as they passed. On the third block Dave muttered, “Motherfuckers”, and I said, “What’s going on Dave, who are those guys?” And he said, “They’re from across the street.” And I asked, “why are they walking by us like this?” and he said, “You know, maybe to hear what we’re saying, that’s all, just listening.” But, then I noticed something else about them, they never looked at me, just at Dave, and at that moment I thought something deeper might be going on, the second to last couple passed us, and can you believe it, the guy closest to Dave elbowed him really hard! That was on our way back to the house, and it was rather slight, so that I might not see, except Dave gave out a little “ooof” and his body jerked a bit from it. I asked him if the man had hit him, but he said no. And so years later, as I ponder what had occurred that evening, and who were those people in the house across the street, all I can think of is the complaint I had made with the FBI, a week before the apartment was occupied by the mystery people. I ought not speculate, but it does give me a thrill to think that the FBI might have actually gotten directly involved to the point of even elbowing Dave. It is true that there are interdepartmental conflicts among the various agencies of our government. Today, they have just written a whole new law called National Intelligence Act or something like that, that was in December of 2004, or maybe January 2005. Under this new act, the spy agencies all come under one office, I think it’s called the National Intelligence Director, however, do not be afraid my friends, for as with all acts, it’s all just an act.

Wayne

This one guy I knew up in Oakland, I’ll call him Wayne, made a very interesting statement to me one fine evening. Wayne wasn’t very smart, almost like an eighty-five IQ kind of guy, and so I knew if I got him alone, I could fish information out of him, and boy I sure did. He was over in Dave and Mary’s warehouse in West Oakland waiting for them, to go out and do whatever it is they all did together, and while he was waiting, I started talking to him. I told him my life had recently become very difficult because I had found out that I was adopted and my real parents came from a strange place. So Wayne said “Oh yeah, where do they come from, Mars?” to which I laughed really hard and in the need to pin him down said, “God dam Wayne, they told you about that?” With a disappearing smile he said to me, “Yeah, they did, they told me all about you Andrew, except they didn’t tell me that you knew.”

Knew what!? Knew that I am a Hybrid alien? Knew that my parents betrayed me? That my country betrayed me? Is that what he meant? And again we must hear of this mythical ‘they’, and don’t you wonder just who they are? It’s not a big deal. They are the officers and directors of both, domestic military and domestic intelligence organizations, not necessarily including the FBI or the US Marshals Service. I have this ‘Twisted’ and mad idea, that those organizations are the one’s responsible for oversight of the monsters, but then what do I know? I will tell you one thing, ‘they’ have real names, with real home addresses, and real families, and ‘they’ forget that they wrote all that down somewhere.

Yes and there I was in this horrible warehouse in West Oakland, listening to the BART train, the freeway, and the Southern Pacific Railroad at the same moment, which was just like the old warehouse actually. And I stood there looking in the eyes of a man I knew was a devil, I wanted to scream at Wayne, “Who am I”, and “Who the fuck do you work for!”. I wanted to kill him, and for just a moment I thought about it, for my hand curiously rested upon a long filthy tire iron, and just for an instant I thought I might just smash his head in right then and there. Of course we Hybrids are never impulsive, no, in fact, each and every action we ever perform is very carefully thought out well in advance, with all the potential impact and ramifications they could possibly have, even the smallest thing ever, examined and re-examined to the optimal solution. And so instead of smashing his skull, I smiled a big smile and said, “You know Wayne, I want you to know that I am a very nice person, and in fact all I ever wanted in my life was just to live a simple, happy little life, and you know Wayne, even after all the hell they have put me through, it’s still all I want, and do you know, I am a very forgiving person, all I really want right now is to just be left alone, I would never want revenge or anything silly like that.” I always like to say things like this in my conversations with the robot slaves of the conspiracy, because it sounds like part of the conversation, but it also works it’s way up to the top, and I thought this would be a good time for me to remind them about revenge and the future, in a sad and pathetic way. I mean I can’t exactly tell Wayne to pass the message to his boss that someday I will hunt him and his family down and torture them all to death, you know what I mean. My little appeals and negotiations, you know. And can you believe what this Wayne guy says? He says, “Boy Andrew, if you knew everything you’d have to be forgiving.” WHAT!!?? What’s that mean? What else did they do, kill my real parents so my parents who raised me would be more cooperative in conspiring and plotting against me? They have bankrupted me four times, shot me, beat me, jailed me, used extensive mind control against me to the point where I’m afraid to get my head x-rayed for fear of what might be in there. What else could they have done? I mean like was I born a girl or something? I mean really, when I consider what I do know, to have someone say something like that, it’s really very disturbing. I mean sure, they did all that, but they haven’t dome anything ‘really’ bad, have they? I wonder if Wayne was just bothered by the usual stuff, or if there might truly be some absolute horror that he was referring to? Oh America, where have you gone? Someday some crazy guy is gonna blow up the whole country, but not me, some other crazy guy. I am very nice, even if you all turned your backs on me. Revenge, is not my way, of course that’s only because I’m not sure if I’m really even alive and since God might be watching, I gotta hedge my bets here people.

Mike Lopez

Well, this is the famous Mike Lopez whose memory will forever be tattooed to my hand where every day for the rest of my life I will remember him. Well, in a bad way anyway, I will remember him. Anyway, that’s not important, what is important is what he had said to me back in ’99 a week before the Alameda incident. I was very stressed out and Mike was telling me different stories about his life and generally making light of it all. Then he said the funniest thing, he said something about when the FBI had arrested him for striping the State of California building in Oakland, which was temporarily condemned for asbestos; he had brazenly stripped the whole building of all it’s copper wiring over 9 months and had single handedly destroyed that building permanently. I knew that much, but I never knew he had actually been arrested but he said he had and told me what the FBI told him. I was amazed because he had never told anyone he had actually been arrested, I never knew he got caught. Before I could say any of this, he told me how much the FBI said they had invested into finding out who was stripping the building, they thought it was someone committing a political crime or something, and that the state authorities had made a really big deal about it, and had insisted the FBI investigate. They told him that after watching him for a couple of months they felt sorry for him and had already decided not to prosecute, and they asked him why he didn’t just get a regular job, because according to their calculations the number of hours he invested in his work and the amount he made summed up to less than minimum wage. (Of course he disputed that point saying, ‘they were wrong’.) It’s not beyond the FBI to tell you things like this, they are known for this sort of thing in fact, so that isn’t so extraordinary, at times they are even very friendly. I was laughing, and he smiled and said “Oh that’s nothing.” He then told me something which is impossible unless he is more than just Mr. Mike Lopez, he told me that after that, they took him to see the Western Director, and there he was in the office of the Western Director standing in front of his desk like the FBI guys had told him to do. And he said the Director has on his desk a tape recorder and he plays this tape recorder, and Mike hears what sounds like water running, and the director asks him “Mr. Lopez what do you think that is?” And Mike said, “Well, I don’t know sir.” And the director, the Director of the FBI for the Western Division of the United States, said to my friend, “That is the sound of you urinating on an eighty thousand dollar piece of equipment.” He went on to tell me how when he had realized that the FBI was sluethily following him around, he had gotten drunk one night and gone over and peed on one of their vans when they wouldn’t open the door to talk to him. He said that had upset them and once they found out who he was, they made a point to mention it to him. Found out who he was?

Eric

Eric was a coworker of mine in 1998 at the El Torito’s in Jack London Square in Oakland. I think Eric is one of the best people I have ever known. We were pretty good friends for a while and then once I quite working there we kind of parted ways. Everyone else said bad things about him too, and suddenly he didn’t have any money and that is really annoying, you know, when every time you see someone they want to borrow a couple of bucks. Of course everyone did that in the Army too, all the time, and you know you are like family, and you know everyone is good for it, if you wanted to collect it, but that’s not done in the CIA, that’s for sure. Anyway it was a while since I saw him, maybe six months, so one day I saw Eric walking along the street and he looked kind of down, so I pulled up and asked if he needed a ride, and he got in and off we went. He wanted me to take him across town, but it was at the height of the harassment in 1999 and I was sticking to certain areas so that the police wouldn’t take my van away. It annoyed Eric and he asked that I drop him part way, so I did, and when I stopped to drop him off he sat there looking at me, like he wanted to tell me something. So he started telling me that no one is helping him and that he had run out of money, but not right then, at that moment he had plenty of cash, he had just gotten a new job and was saving for an apartment. An apartment… I asked him, where was he living right then, and he told me that was the worst part, he was living in the bushes in some isolated part of Lake Merrit. He said no one cared, “Really Andy, No one cares at all…” And I said, wow, how could he let that happen, I mean, even I have never done that, a vehicle, well that’s one thing, but outside, brrrr. He told me he had been partying for a few days and they told him he had to come up with rent money or he would be kicked out. He had made a joke of it and dared them to kick him out, and so to prove his point he stayed a couple of nights in those bushes, but when he returned to his apartment it was closed and all his stuff was gone. I asked him who he was talking about and why he would think his landlord would help him, but he just looked at me. Were these his roommates, I knew he had two girls as his roommates, but I couldn’t see how they could move out and lock him out like that, it wasn’t legal. He looked so bothered, and I really wasn’t interested in his weird story, for as we were talking the street had filled up with US personnel, and I was getting really nervous. I was looking at them and had stopped listening to a ‘make no sense story’ of why Eric was living in some horrible wet bushes. His story was horrible, and I had some of my own real problems, like maybe we could swap problems and he would stop crying you know.

So he looked out at them, and he broke with whatever ‘mission’ he was on, and asked me “What are you looking at Andy?” He said it in a way that was like he knew what I was looking at and so I looked at him now, and said, “Why do you ask?” So he motioned with his hand and said, “Well, I thought the CIA might be bothering you, and I can see they have filled the street since we got here so I thought you might be looking at them.” I said, “The CIA?” that’s because at that time I didn’t think it was them, I really had no idea who it was, but he took it like I was denying what he said. So he said, “Yeah, the CIA.” And he started to point them out on the street and saying this guy and that guy and that car and so on, you know. I stopped him and said, “I know, don’t point at them, I just didn’t know that you knew, and just how exactly do you know what’s going on Eric?” And this is it right here, once again in my life someone spills the beans, just not all the beans this time, but enough, so that later one more piece of a giant puzzle fell into it’s place. Eric said to me, “Andrew, I work for the CIA, I am a CIA agent and I was assigned to your case.” It actually didn’t make sense, but if Eric wanted to take the topic in this direction, fine, I asked him for his ID. And it was Eric, who on this occasion told me that the CIA doesn’t issue their field agents ID, but he sure wished they did, because if they did he would show it to me. I asked him, if you work for the CIA then where’s all your money? He said, “Andy, I’m in the field, and they won’t let me have any of it.” It was a bit hard to believe, and I guess I showed my disbelief and he said, “Andy, do you realize how much money I have? I have an account back East that has over a hundred thousand dollars in it. I’m not who you think Andy. Do you realize that I went to Howard University?” And for a moment I saw something more than the regular Eric and it was kinda scary you know, so I looked out into the street and I saw all the Feds out there, and I heard what Eric had said run through my mind one more time, and I turned to him and I said, “But I met you before…” And this is important, because he finished my sentence, he said, “Before you wrote the letters. That’s right Andy, I met you almost a year ago, and everyone working there at El Toritos was on your case.” Now, I’ll tell you people that is a scary thing to have someone tell you, you know, especially if it might be true. I kind of believed him, and so I asked him, “But Eric, why would the CIA care about me?” He answered me in a pathetic way, and it makes me think that in fact he probably had been told what to say, you know, he probably was no hero, just one of the regular scummy murderers following orders once again, but I like to think he was a hero, and he said, “I’m sorry Andy, I can’t tell you that, but they will be coming to talk to you pretty soon.” That was it, I made him get out of my van and I left.

I think it’s funny how all these people everywhere think that the CIA is on some kind of mission with me. Not one of them knew the truth, even back then, all that activity was designed to kill me. Just think for a moment, the guy who shot at me, when I looked at him he got scared and fired directly at my head, had I been hit, it would have looked like a bad accident, that’s all.

Heidi

This was an interesting person, a little trooper and someone that I had a big crush on for the longest time, but no more, well maybe a little crush still. I met her at the Civic Center Hotel in San Francisco. She sat in her car out front all day long waiting to talk to this guy who lived in the building when he got home from work. I have a pretty good idea that she was his wife, but she always denied it. I could never do anything with her, because, you know, I really thought they were married, but we did spend a lot of time together at the end of 2000 and the very beginning of 2001 before I went to LA. She was very open with me about the whole Hybrid alien topic and knew all about me. She magically knew about the Alameda thing, which periodically people do. She knew my friend Sissy and said they had met before, at some kind of meeting, a meeting. I once started telling her about this letter I wrote to the IRS, and she finished the story, and I didn’t have to think how she knew what I wrote the IRS, because, she was a confessed spy. Except, unlike Eric, she refused to tell me what agency she worked for, I would guess the CIA, but then, what do I know?

I called Heidi the first time I tried to contact the UFO community, I thought I could get some good feedback. Boy, did she ever get upset, (like a three year old little girl) and she said, “Andrew, you don’t have to do that, they will seek you out.” That was really interesting for me, because I had this rule about Heidi, whatever Heidi said was basically the governments position on the issue. It was in reality Heidi who gave me the idea to expose the secret to the world, and you know, when she got so angry, well I knew that was the way to go.

Trammy

This was a friend of mine from my university days. We were classmates and she and I really liked each other. That was way back in 1994, and I had no idea of anything other than what was right in front of me. I really should have married Trammy. She and I were however just friends, but we studied together and hung out just a bit, and so naturally, as with anyone who has any contact with me, they meet the CIA. Trammy was horrified by the CIA, but not because I was an alien, not because of aliens, it was their attitude towards me, she said they were all “against me”. I saw her and my other friends, including my girlfriend Mai, standing outside the school library at Cal State Northridge one fine afternoon in May. And I strolled on over, but just before I got there, she started screaming at me and dropped her stuff and ran to me. While she did all this, my ‘friends’ were shouting at her, they were shouting at her in Vietnamese, and though my Vietnamese was never that good, I could make out a few cuss words and I swear I heard the ‘or else’ line but it didn’t make sense. She said I was in big trouble, that everyone was against me, that the CIA had come and spoken to them all and said that I was an alien. What could I say? I tried to tell her everything was ok, but she wouldn’t have it. She said she loved me, and she was sorry for me, because my life was going to be so hard. Then she got really scared and told me that she had broken the law and that they told her that if anyone told me they would go to prison and so if I didn’t see her again, it meant she was in prison and that I was an alien. I do believe her story, I wish I knew anything back then, she was right, my life has been really hard.

Can you imagine, in life having everyone “against you”, I mean, many times in our lives this happens for real, with regular people, but can you imagine if it was the CIA that was against you? I mean, really your GOING TO LOSE, and that’s all there is to it. I have totally lost everything, everything I ever had and at this moment my future doesn’t look so bright either, I mean I can’t even really live in the US anymore, not without always looking over my shoulder. When I go back I think they’re going to put me in jail, at least, until the end of the Bush administration, that guy really hates me! Sure, I heroically stood up to them, but maybe that was just a negotiating tactic, I never thought they would try and actually kill me, I thought they would negotiate, you know, give up and surrender to the superior might, right? Once they shot me, well, the only reason I fought them in 2004 was a cheap suicide attempt, at first anyway. And when it was clear I had won that much and the asshole, George Tenet, who was their director for seven years resigned, well, I don’t know, I just wanted to hurt them a bit and kick their ass for once, but what did I win? You know I really hate George Tenet, and in December of 2003 I made a bet with my insane girlfriend of the day, that I could get him to resign in six months, and I did. I just mentioned him in my campaign work and said he should be ‘removed’ from office. And I will tell you, if for no other reason than just to say it, I do take credit, and on that day, when I still wasn’t certain, he said something in public which used a phrase that meant something to me, isn’t that funny, I was so stunned, he had in effect surrendered to me. But you know, even if he did resign because of me, what did it do? All he really did is stop working and go golfing for the rest of his life, and isn’t that what we all want to do anyway?

Ann

Ann was a woman that I dated for a while who was really nothing but a blip on my radar of life. And the only thing I could say about her was this funny thing she told me once. What Ann said was that I thought I was better than her because I was advanced. She was adamant that this was how I felt, I was better then everyone, because I was advanced, and that was all there was to it. We didn’t date too long, she smoked too and it’s never fun to kiss someone who smokes. Yuck!

Maricel Guevara

Maricel was my favorite girlfriend ever and I still often find myself thinking about her so many years later. Yes indeed, she was someone special, someone Super Cool a once in a lifetime kinda deal, you know what I mean. We were really close and no matter how many hours we spent together, it was never enough. Like that, you know. Wow, we even had these cute pet names for each other, but I will leave them out of my story here. I was twenty-three and just transferring over to my University and she was an engineering student at UCLA and only eighteen years old. It’s funny how you look back so many years later and see those shining moments of what life is really about, and sure, maybe we do color those moments a bit, but maybe that just makes them more fun to remember, you know. I think, I should have married her and moved to some remote town near the ocean in Oregon or Alaska and had lots of kids and a fireplace and left life at that, that would have been cool. We had a great love affair and I knew everything there was to know about her, I mean, you know, what is there to really know about an eighteen year old anyway? I mean, you know, in details. I knew her father was in the military and had been stationed all over the world. She had spent her youth living the life of a military brat, leaving her friends every few years, and on to the next station.

The point of this story however is not that she was my cool little dream girl, but rather, that one day, and I’m not sure if she showed it to me deliberately, or if I found it by accident, but one day, I held in my hand a military ID card with her picture and her name and all that. It was a standard ID card and indicated her branch of service and everything, just the same as the one I had when I was in the army. I’m not sure but I think it was Air Force, and am sure she was an E-2. This is by the way, what real lovers will do when you make them spy on their loves, they will give it all up. Of course, she didn’t sit me down and tell me she was a spy, she just let me find her ID card, which under normal circumstances would have been enough to take care of the problem if there were one, and it at the very least would show her loyalty to me and not my so hated, ‘them’. I didn’t know I was a Hybrid at that time, in fact it would be seven difficult and long years more before I was to learn that. So, I really had no idea why she had a bona fide military ID card, and so I asked her, “What’s this for?” and she took it in her hand and looked at me with the sweetest eyes ever and said, “That’s my military ID card.” It’s funny, but I said, “But your not in the military, why would you have a military ID?” She became so excited and whirled her head, gave me a big smile and told me, “Well, since my father is in the military and I am his dependant, I am issued a card so that I can get onto the bases.” She kissed me then as I guess I had said whatever she had wanted me to, like I didn’t care she was a spy or something like that. And the card, it was standard issue, it was not for a dependant.

All that means very little, it was what she said to me some months later, when we decided to break up. She kept saying that I thought I was better than her. It wasn’t new, she had asked me if I felt that way plenty of times before and I always said “no”. It was the last time she asked me that mattered, and this time she was insistent, I did think I was better than her, and better than everyone else too. What can a guy say to this sort of thing? It’s what your girlfriend says when she breaks up with you, and after that, they usually throw something very hard at you. It seemed though that she meant something more and so I asked her, “Why do you say that?” And with a great sigh she finally told me, “It’s because your advanced Andrew, and you know it, and you carry it everywhere you go, and you throw it in my face and in everyone’s face and you do think your better than everyone.” And you know, I really had no idea what she was talking about, I mean I was pretty well read, and I had studied philosophy and I did in fact consider myself advanced, but purely in an educational way, and so I asked her, “When you say advanced, what exactly do you mean?” And she kind of got a little annoyed and said, “You know, because your advanced.” But I didn’t know, and I just shook my head and said, “No, I don’t know what you mean.” And then she said to me, “Andrew I have been dating you for six months and you know very well that I would have to know everything if I were with you that long. We can talk Andrew, it doesn’t matter.” And when I gave her that blank stare that I always gave people on those occasions, shaking my head, shrugging my shoulders, she got a bit annoyed and said, “Andrew, I’m in the military, you saw my ID card, you don’t have to play this game with me.” But I wasn’t playing any game, and do you know, she finally believed me, and with that look of shock I’ve seen on so many faces, like when they tell you your on fire, but you didn’t know, she looked at me, and then smiled a cruel sadistic smile and began laughing an authentic out of control laugh. “Oh, my God you don’t know!”

I thought I saw her on the street in Venice only last year, and I looked over at her, and she looked at me and she even had that hint of her unique little smile that I so loved. I thought I should ask if it was her, because as you know, I can’t see very well, and my God even then after so many years, I suddenly had a pit of excitement in my stomach that it might be her, a thrill like I was twelve years old or something. I took a step towards her and without thinking I stepped into one of those stupid planter boxes they have on the sidewalks, for trees you know, the ones that are basically just a hole in the sidewalk, and I kind of stumbled and it was like a giant knife cut me in half, just for a second and then it was gone. But in the second that followed as a coat of sweat covered my body, I kind of thought about it for a moment, and then I didn’t feel so excited anymore, see that day was a bad day, I was in pain. My stomach was hurting inside and out, from the nineteen inch cut that the doctors had had to make, twice, and the four places they had to re-attach my intestines on the inside to fix the damage done by a gunshot wound that I was given by the men that Maricel works/worked for. She didn’t look quite the same then. It’s a pity.

My insane Islamic girlfriend

Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but aren’t all girlfriends insane? Or perhaps it’s that all women are insane…Or perhaps just mine. I knew she was insane when I first met her but, you know, I don’t know. Well, none of that really mattered to me when I met her, because I am like the most open minded person you could ever meet, and I would date anyone. Which probably explains it. Anyway, this was an interesting woman to say the least, and before she lost her mind and started all that yelling stuff, I sure did like her, Oh man, I sure did. Another one I could have married. Anyway, once we got to know each other pretty well, I told her about my conspiracy problems and she was very interested to know why the CIA would be running some kind of operation on me. She didn’t question that they might be running an operation, no, her interest was focused purely on why.

And this part is a bit complicated, but over the years I have discovered there are many interested organizations in my case and of those many people, we have four basic kinds of origination, public agencies, like the CIA, private clandestine groups, like the Illuminati, and of those groups, we have two further breakdowns, domestic and foreign, and that’s basically it. But when dealing with these people you can get a good feeling for which four they come from by their behavior. For example an agent of a foreign power will always be very paranoid, but never very moralistically motivated. On the other hand private agencies will be solidly moralistic, since that in fact is their purpose of the memberships they hold in whatever organization they are in. Private groups are much more likely to cause general disturbances in public and will even fight with personnel from other groups, in particular they hate the members of the public agencies. I sometimes am handed pieces of paper with bits of intelligence information on them, and sometimes it’s just rather routine, but often it is devastating to the local government plot of the day, and that is what the private groups love to do. And just as a quick side note here, if you ever want to tell me something, or give me a piece of paper, the best way to do it is at a large public demonstration, where everyone is handing out leaflets and stuff like that, it’s crowded and out of control and though everyone is being observed and photographed, in reality, no one is being observed and no one is really being photographed, it’s just too overwhelming for the Machine. Which incidentally is why all Machines hate demonstrations. You can always find me at them and work the crowd with save the whales leaflets, but the one you give me, make it mine, it’s so easy. I really appreciate these things, and I don’t forget what was said on the paper.

Anyway, so I was never able to figure out who she was working for, though on several occasions she said she worked for the CIA, I don’t know if I believed her, and it’s not really important. What was important to me, was this one occasion when she and I had had a couple of drinks, and man, that always brings it out you know. Now this sweet little girl had told me that she really didn’t like Islam and had told me she was of some other religious creed, which made no difference to me, but was important to her. So here was this woman I was dating, and you know what she said? Well, she had gotten really angry because we were discussing Islam, and she was saying how much she hated the religion, and all I could say was “Oh, really, can you fill my glass again?” And she burst out at me, I guess because I really didn’t care about her hatred of whatever, you know, I mean like I really care about someone’s infantile prejudices, I don’t. So she throws her glass of wine in my face, and then she starts yelling at me in some foreign language. She was a foreigner, but it didn’t sound right, it wasn’t the language I heard her speak to her parents on the phone, I listened to just a few words, memorized them and I later found what that language was, it was Urdu. That’s what they speak in Pakistan, a country that is 99% Islamic and a pretend American ally. That wasn’t the end of it though, because I could tell she had dropped her veneer and completely forgotten herself, I asked if she didn’t like the wine, and she flipped out. I’m sorry to bait someone when they are so upset, but com’on, I mean they are spies, plotting and I think It’s perfectly acceptable for me to counterplot, you know? Anyway, she picked up the bottle of wine and threw it at me, pretty fast too. The wine bottle hit me on the forehead and went off flying against the wall, wine sprayed everywhere and it did kind of look like the walls were bleeding too. And that was it, for her the game was over and she told me how her people were so great and “your people think they are something, but they nothing!” She went on to tell me how God spoke to her people and how what they said to each other was so beautiful, then she said a few things in Arabic one of which was this; “Allah Seleem Akbar…” and there is another word that goes in there, but I forgot it, and she said, “Do you know how beautiful that is? You’re so stupid you have no idea, I can say that to anyone in the world and they will be my brother. If I got into a cab in Alameda and told him that, he would treat me as family, and that is how our people are. You people steal from each other and have nothing like that, nothing connects you, even the Christians have nothing together, their religion is a LIE and your culture and your country is a LIE, you have NOTHING and you are NOTHING”.

I was amazed, my cute little girlfriend spoke Arabic and had real opinions that were politically relevant and stuff like that. A bit hostile, but still intelligent. I was really impressed, and then she said something scary, you know what she said to me? You wouldn’t believe it, she started talking about the terrorist of 911, yeah man, she started flipping into a dialog that was half English and half spoken in Arabic or Urdu, with little Koranic quotations mixed in, like a religious fanatic, and then I started to hear 911 this and 911 that and terrorist this and terrorist that. It was for real, and I forgot about the walls bleeding wine and I forgot the pain in my head and I stopped thinking about checking a mirror to see if it was blood running down my face or just the wine, and I listened to a secret agent of some unknown secret organization, screaming secret things that were so powerfully relevant to our world. And then she focused herself, took a deep breath and paused, half composing herself back to normal, and I thought she was done, but instead with a great determination, she spoke clearly in English and said, “That’s right, I’m talking about 911 and your so called terrorist, they’re not terrorists you know, they were soldiers and when they did that they were working for God, and I’ll tell you something else…they wore gold chains around their necks on that day, and they held them in their hands at the moment they crashed those planes…and do you know what it said on those chains?” She was shaking in a raging fury, so strong, it seemed it could have shattered her whole body, but I had forgotten everything except what she was saying, I was transfixed and said, “What did it say?” But that was it, and with a terrified hiss of sigh, she knew what she had done and would say no more. I tried to ask her again, “What did the gold chains have written on them?” but she didn’t answer, she just looked around at the walls, perhaps she considered the hundreds of people I know listen to my private life, and in that moment I seemed to become invisible to her, and I still wonder what she was thinking. Was it perhaps that her job for the CIA was going to be in trouble? Or did she not even work for the CIA, but perhaps the ISI, and having realized that she had just uttered extremely anti-American rhetoric at the target of a bunch of CIA and military types, did she worry just how that kind of verbage might fly with all those people that she too knew were listening? And if you want my opinion, though I can’t ever be certain, it was the latter.

I was so shocked, I can’t even tell you, it was incredible, just incredible. I thought about it then, and I thought, then it was true, it really was foreign nationals who attacked us on that day, they really were terrorist, it wasn’t our own government, so George W. Bush really didn’t do it! Wow, I pictured her then, in some old WWII bomber jacket, with some flight goggles on, holding some medallion with unknown Arabic writing on it, attached to a gold chain around her neck and screaming “ALLA SELEEM AKBAR” as she flew one of the planes into the World Trade Center. Boy, thank God the Pakistanis are our allies!

She also said one other thing which you might not have noticed, something a whole lot more personal and relevant to me than 911, she mentioned ‘Alameda’. And you know, I never told her anything about that story. For this odd reason, I always tended kept quiet about the Alameda incident. It’s just somehow too intense to say, it’s like telling people a cruise missile hit the pentagon, it’s just too much. If I do tell someone my story, I never tell them about Alameda, except once, and that’s it, other than this book here, I don’t speak of it, I never have. And in that one statement about Alameda, I knew more about her than her neighbors back home, in whatever country she came from, I knew, she was a spy. And they do that a lot you know, my spy friends, when I had them, they would talk about Alameda and how the cops left me there, and I would have to tell them, I never told you that.

There was another thing she said to me once which is a bit less dramatic for you, but quite terrible for me. Yes, one day she came along to visit me, and she was really mad, and by mad I mean angry, because of course someone who has already gone Mad, they can’t actually get Mad. Anyway, she was so angry and sort of hissing at me, so I said, “Are you ok?” And she said, “No, I’m not ok!” So I said, “What’s the matter?” and she said, “I spoke to someone today.” And so I asked her, “Who did you speak to and what did they say?” And she said to me “I spoke to the voices in your head and they told me to be nicer to you.” She wasn’t kidding around either, and out there somewhere there does exist some people with this sort of anti-human technology and they are using it, and they are using it on me. I would happily just commit suicide to escape such a powerful grasp on me, held by men who think they are petty Gods, except for one thing, that’s really pretty cool, someday I’m gonna get even with all of them. And I assure you that on that day, they will be very sorry for what they have done, and not just to me, but to all such victims wherever they may be, oh man, oh man, sweet, sweet revenge. Shiver your hearts mind controllers, for we know your names!

John Ahearn

My old buddy John, …it was on a lovely day in October ’97 when at the flea market I stopped by to say hello to my friend John. John took one quick angry look at me and said “Andrew, you have to start praying more.” I said, “How do you know how much I pray?” To that he had no response and pressed no further. On another day, John said to me, out of the blue, “Remember Andrew, be careful what you think, you never know who is listening.” Yeah, well I guess I kind of do now don’t I.

David Freibrun

David was a friend of mine back in high school and we stayed friends through college until we let a girl come between us. But before that, on one occasion he told me a funny story about his cousin who lived by the beach in Venice. He told me that all she did was drink beer and roller skate all day long, and that for the last few years, her money, had come from settlements from a couple of traffic accidents she had been in. He said she had been worried about her financial situation and her dwindling money supply, when she had a new settlement come through rather unexpectedly. This settlement had not come from an auto accident, but rather from the city of Los Angeles as a result of a legal clash that she had gotten involved in with the local police. She said they had harassed her and some of her friends in gross violation of the law, by first taking them all into a back alley off the ocean front walk, this is typical of course, because it’s a matter of so many people and gawkers from the public and just a bit easier to settle things up, you know. However, when they got them in the back alley they pushed them onto the ground and kicked them, and this too, is a well know police tactic. When the police were done, they ran away, and later denied it had ever occurred. This little group of half normal slackers had been outraged and was able to organize enough witnesses to place the cops on the scene and so rather than fight a losing legal battle and a legal battle, which incidentally, if a civil conviction did result, mandated a felony investigation, the city simply settled. Tens of thousands of dollars a piece, and no lawyers to share it with, she had a couple more years to enjoy the sun and the sand.

By the way, I have lived in Venice for a few years and I want to say that the police regularly commit felonies against anyone they believe is incapable of legal protection. They will beat people, and they even rob them. One time I knew this guy who was a know seller of Marijuana, and he suddenly had a big black eye and a busted lip and left town, it was whispered the cops had stolen his marijuana and told him to ‘get lost’. Most cases are not so dramatic, but they are still felonies, for example, I had an argument with a cop, over a parking ticket, so she began to write me the same ticket over and over again for like ten days straight, which she technically can do, however, if a police officer is actually targeting a single individual for ‘personal’ reasons, that is harassment, felony harassment, and because they are police, it is felony harassment under the ‘color of authority’ which is another felony charge altogether. This stupid officer was committing this crime, which incidentally has a minimum sentencing law of ten years in prison. We think it’s all a big joke you know, but it’s not, we trust these people and they betray us, and for that betrayal they get into a lot of trouble. In 2001 four Oakland cops got nabbed for harassing homeless people, and they each were sentenced to prison for twenty fucking years! Ten years for harassment and another ten years for ‘under the color of authority’. All they had done was to order a few homeless people not to come around anymore, and when they did, they beat them up and wrote them a bunch of tickets, and they drove around town looking for them too, to make sure they were not around. They got arrested by the feds and it is then likely that some of the homeless were in fact feds undercover, which is perhaps why we saw such dramatic sentencing.

That not withstanding, if a person is well organized, or a group of people, forget about insurance fraud, it’s much easier to find an abusive police department and just let them do their thing. Eventually they will catch on, as will the feds and before any of you get murdered, and before any of the cops go to prison, they will correct their behavior, through transfers, payoffs (to you) and some threats by everyone, to everyone. But in the meantime, you can get a good run and make a lot of money, since, as I said, the city, especially LA will always settle a felony case prior to trial. So anyway, this guys cousin saw this hole in reality, and went for it, and in two years she had two or three settlements and a few pending lawsuits, and the police knew her well as did probably the feds and everyone was preparing to enter the end stage of reorganization, negotiations were being held and all that. Of course it was all about money you know, she was no constitutional advocate here and I held the opinion, that the police are under great pressure and really are the victims of such scummy activities. I told David that his cousin was a lowlife who didn’t want to work and that was all, except that in the meantime she was endangering the careers of good people who are of service to our society, I told David, she was disgusting.

And one day David came along with something to tell me about his cousin. He said the CIA had shown up at her apartment and told her that if she filed a single other lawsuit against the police they would kill her. I thought, wow man, you know it figures, but I doubted the CIA part, they don’t really get involved in petty things like that, nor local matters in this way. Yes, it was the CIA, and David told me, that’s not all, she said ok, but had asked them why they cared about her, who was she to them? And David told me, the CIA told her, that it was because her cousin David’s friend, Andrew Murphy, he didn’t like it and that was all they said. David had found out this story from his frantic cousin, who called him at the same time she was packing to leave the country, and only asked him if he knew anyone by that name. For the record, I never did believe him, until 2000.

Ernesto

So I used to work with this guy named Ernesto, and he actually wasn’t my friend at all, in fact, we didn’t get along. I used to go to work dreading to see Ernesto and you know it wasn’t that he was like this big guy who threatened me, or that was my boss, no, all he did was very subtle harassment of me. He was a busboy, that’s all, and he used to complain that I didn’t tip him enough. So, every time I went to work, it was like this conflict, and he would be really petty and irritating, and I gave it right back to him, you know. But after six months, I was just so tired of this guy and it was like, I couldn’t tell the managers to fire him, it wasn’t anything like that, he just made my time there miserable. Even if he was across the room and we had agreed to follow certain rules, I was just uncomfortable being there. So, I started thinking, maybe I ought to quit the job and move on. I thought about that for a week or two and then one day I went into work and Ernesto wasn’t there, the little guy was there instead, and it was such a relief you know, I was like ‘all right, I’m at work’. And so as I happily worked away, someone asked if I had heard about Ernesto? I was so excited, I threw out my answer “HE QUIT?”, and they no, Ernesto had not quit, but he might not be back, if he lives. Ernesto had been on his way home from his last shift when he was accosted by four or five men who wanted his gold chain, but he fought them and tried to run away. They had according to witnesses, beaten Ernesto so badly, it was a murder, and they had in fact, left him for dead. He was at that time, in a coma, on full life support, and the only hope, was that his brain showed signs of some activity.

I saw Ernesto twice after that, the first time was at the flea market in Oakland, on a Sunday afternoon while I ran my game. He and a group of his friends walked by and man he looked bad, it had been months, and he would never be the same again. I said hello, in a friendly way, and he said nothing, and all his friends looked at me like I was some kind of murderer or a monster from space, but like they were afraid of me and I thought for a moment, what had he told his friends about me that made them so, weird. The second time I saw him was five minutes later. He was suddenly before me, and he said “Everything is fine, I am not going to do anything or say anything, and I will never come back here again, but I just want to ask you, why did you have the CIA beat me up?” I got really mad and said how he always did this stupid shit, and how stupid a thing to say that I had sicked the CIA on him, what a fool he was, and I told him to get lost and he did.

So, what does it all mean? It means that the government, which by the way is about as concerned with my well being as a clerk at the DMV is with your car registration, is listening to my thoughts and no doubt adding a few of their own. The sheer horror, evil and absolute pure diabolism would carry most men to murder or suicide, but not I. For I know, this game is real, and I know what it means. I know that the official line of our esteemed leaders in this game, a line told to their own people has been that it is their goal to mould me and shape me and train me into the sort of person who would make a wise leader should the aliens force me upon you all, and that it is the duty of all such persons involved to strictly obey all orders in my regard, no matter how they may feel personally nor weather they fully understand those orders, for it is all for the good of humanity and America. The reality is that they fear I may someday hold power over them, and ‘they’, the great Blue Blooded elite of America, the same men who brought us slavery, the wholesale genocide of the Indian Nations, the conquest of 53% of Mexico, and countless millions of dead across our globe in their ‘search for markets’, men like Prescott Bush, who had business dealings with Adolph Hitler, while their own children were physically present with American forces in the Pacific theater, these men, they are concerned that I, as an American, having witnessed their crimes, and holding some depth of passion for justice, or at least a kind of anti-‘them’ passion, will perhaps be not so agreeable with their future plans for world domination, they simply wanted me dead. Ask any person who has ever worked my case what the real push always led to, and it will be one hundred percent of the time, a close risk of my life, one way or the other. But I digress. And just to let you all know, in that uncertain world of the future, if some day the angry masses have grabbed up those Blue Blooded pigs and having tied them to the backs of pick up trucks are dragging them down the streets, you can all rest assured that such violence is not at all my plan, and I will be the first to save the bloodied Blue Blooded pigs from such a fate. I am very nice you know, and none of you need worry, I will take care of everything.

The day the world stopped staring at me…

One fine evening at the very end of 2000 I was arguing with my friend Heidi. As I said about Heidi before, she was a little trooper and by trooper, I mean she worked very hard and very enthusiastically in her role within the system, weather she was taking a long four hour walk with me or just spending time talking, she always had the energy, she was a trooper and moreover, she was a believer in the goals of the Machine. She liked me a lot and was, for what ever it’s worth a real friend, she just had no idea the conspiracy wanted me dead. She truly believed their actions and her supporting role in those actions were for the ‘greater good’, and I quote her words there. I used to hate such people, and for long while after I knew her, I hated Heidi, but no more. Now I always like people like this, I mean, not really in there actions you see, but because they are believers and have some how become moralistically inclined, they will spend time speaking to you of such things as ‘The greater good’, and that, can be very helpful. Such people who meet me under less than happy conditions, will sometimes be compelled by this ‘morality’ to question me, in what is not exactly an attempt at propagandizing me, but convincing me that I am wrong, and because they honestly believe the positions the enemy holds, they will fairly consider what I say to them, and listen patiently as I explain my point of view. After all they think, how could I disagree? Such people are the ‘Achilles Heel’ of the Machine, because when they listen long enough and they discover the truth, a single one of these people can stop the entire Machine. They are what I refer to as ‘Independent Thinkers’, and are commonly found among the most ardent supporters of any criminal state in the world. They are the people who were mesmerized by Joseph Stalin and Adolph Hitler, but they were not mesmerized by fancy uniforms or fancy speeches, they were intellectually ignited by the actual words they heard. These people are not entirely normal, and eventually they will demonstrate that fact, but not before they create a bit of trouble. If you ever find yourself in the custody of the Machine, when you are first dragged into some jail and tossed into your fist holding cell, you might still get a chance, if you are lucky enough, to meet these people. They will be the lower to midlevel political types who will have very neat uniforms with super shiny buttons, and they might if you are lucky, against the rules, bring you a glass of water, maybe even a cigarette and spend a few moments discussing with you why you would hold a sign in public saying the Furer was evil, ‘Don’t you realize what you did today hurts our country?’. Don’t spit in their face, don’t be afraid of their black uniforms, for if you are lucky, it might just be, that they are speaking to you, because they have never met any opposition members before, and they are the only open mind you may ever see again, they really want to know, and if you speak to them, it might just be you who convinces them, and that can free you. That was Heidi, a little stormtrooping believer…I liked her a lot, she gave me a lot of information, she was like a book, and aside from that, as I said before, I had this crush on her. I can’t really explain it, but if a woman spends more than 24 hours with me, I want to marry them.

Anyway, I have always had one problem that was particularly difficult, unexplainable and never went away, even for a moment. People have stared at me, my entire life. And I don’t mean just a few people, I mean, that if you can imagine for a moment, that there really was an actual alien and he was being followed around, by all the people who follow aliens around, except that you told the people he was an alien, and you know everyone would like to see an alien, the closer the look, the better, the longer the look, the better, everyone would take a look at an alien, even the CIA people, and that is how many people stared at me. It wasn’t part of there protocol, you know, don’t stare at the alien, instead they had a different protocol. I was not to ever stare at them, and this was strictly enforced. Yes, they all stared, and from my earliest age, I was naturally compelled to stare back, it is a physical response and in fact there are laws today that deal with the psychology of staring, and no, it is not felony assault, but it is harassment. Yes, and I refuse to believe that this was a mistake or an oversight, this was intentionally done, and it was not done to limit my interaction with others, but to imperil me and ultimately, it was designed to put me, one step closer to death. As a young child walking in a mall or just on the street I would see more than half the people present staring at me so much, but worse than that, I would return their looks and they would wave at me and smile and say “Hello” and it was really freaky. And sometimes I would look at them a little too long, just to experiment and see what would happen, I mean after all I thought, if they could stare at me, then why could I not stare at them? And what happened when people just stared at each other like that? I never found out an acceptable answer to that question, because, for me, it was always the same, the CIA people, would get upset, no doubt having been told I was aware that I was an alien, and I knew the ‘no staring’ rule, and even when I was a small child, it was the same. My look would create an unreasonably indignant response from whomever I had looked upon, and they would never fail to come over to me and harshly lecture me about not staring at people, and if I were with an adult, they too would be rebuked, that I had ‘stared’ at them. “You know, he’s staring and your not watching him…”

Looking back, I am amazed at how much it reminds me of the behavior of superiors in the military, which, to them, I suppose, it was. Walking across some military base, and out of nowhere an NCO stops you, and says in a really angry voice “Ok now, is that the way we wear our coat?” In a mall, I was eight years old, and I walked through holding my mothers hand, and everyone was staring at me, and I only looked around, but as I passed, every second person waved their finger to me, scolding me, “Don’t stare.” I was only eight years old. Even then, I knew it wasn’t right, and over the years I came to the only rational conclusion possible, inside each of us there is an energy, an energy which is our life force, and at some basic level these energies will interact with each other, and for some reason, unknown to me, I really bothered people. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and if you look in someone’s eyes, you really see their soul, and they see your soul, and for me it never worked very well.

As a young man, this problem grew to one of danger, and I never understood beyond my silly theory, because I watched everyone else and I timed their ‘looks’ and I knew that I never really did anything to merit such constant trouble. And you know, as an adult, if a fight should ensue, well what a great way to kill you, you know what I mean? And for many years of my life, I lived in a kind of prison world, where everyday that passed, everyone there picked a fight with me, and I mean for real, no jokes here, these people, my peers, they had to have been lied to, and what they thought when I looked at them, was something much more, and I tell you, my life was in constant jeopardy. But what of it all you know? I figured out how to survive and though I have run for my life more than once, I got by. The best among us have always spent some time running for their lives.

Well, in comes Heidi, the potential individual thinker. So, there I was, on that evening in 2000, arguing away with someone I was just about convinced was a mindless robot. The argument was the same as it had been from the beginning, and the same as it has always been until only recently that is. ‘They’ claim I do not cooperate, and I refuse to do what they say I know I need to do, they say it is my ‘ego’ and I always used to say that was ridiculous, I knew they sabotaged everything I ever did. We argued back and forth for a long time, but here is the problem with arguments, if it’s among friends, and if it really means something, well sooner, or later, the truth will come out. When that truth comes out it will be solid, and that’s the end of the argument, forever, you know what I mean? I spent the better part of the fall of 2000 arguing with my friends that I was a very responsible person, and that in fact it was that my life was being snatched out from underneath me, however, I never said it that way, I only used to argue specific points, like things failed on this occasion because…So on that night I came out and said that it wasn’t any small thing, it was everything, and it was all by design. We had been arguing with greater and greater harshness for more than two hours, and I was so mad. When I said that it gave Heidi a big pause, because she thought about it, and that was true. But I continued with my realization, because I suddenly realized something, and that is, that if you are against someone in everything they do, you hate them. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I got, and you know, while we stood there on some public street, they were all doing it, they were staring at me, and I pointed to them, for the first time in my life really, I really didn’t know any of them were government agents or not, but I was so mad you know. I said, “If the government is so pure, then why do all their agents following me look so mean at me, with such abhorrent hatred?” “After all…” I continued, “…since they don’t know me how could they hate me, unless someone told them something…” And when I said that it was really weird, cause you see, at that moment I knew something new, I knew that if someone hates you, that means they would like to kill you, and I told her that, and I asked what did I ever do to any of them to make them want to kill me? The statement was one of the more intense moments of my life and was so passionately made, it really isn’t done justice in this brief essay.

However, I had without knowing it, hit the nail on the head, it was my life they were putting in danger and I had proven in conclusively. I am really amazed by Heidi and I can only imagine what she did after that, but I know that for those men, those evil men, in control of your governments assets, for them to continue their control of my life, they had no choice but to deny what everyone plainly saw. They could no longer do this to me, and were forced to make a special point of telling their people, do not stare at Andrew anymore, and if he stares at you, no more picking fights, just look away.

The next day I noticed something different in the world, no one was staring at me. This is hard for people to understand, but prior to that morning, more than half the people on the street stared at me, it was awful. And here, on some regular day, it was like I was on another planet, no one looked at me. My entire life had changed, it was incredible. I was not only relieved, but I was amazed then, because I suddenly realized, just how many people had been following me around everywhere I went. My whole life they had watched me, with an army of people! You have no idea how many people I am talking about, and I will tell you, and there is no way you can believe it, but the fact is, they have to have, in the street, several thousand people working on my case at any given moment, which means, three shifts a day, and let’s not forget to toss in all those support personell, and we surpass the ten thousand mark. I feel ridiculous to even say it, but that is the way it is, and some day when you all know the truth, the US government will say a few hundred at most, but I want you to remember that I told this, more than ten thousand. Do you know how much money that costs? No wonder they kicked me out of the country!

The FBI in Oakland…

The day after the world stopped staring at me, I decided I had had enough of this nonsense, so I headed over to the FBI in Oakland to ask them if they were following me around. They didn’t ever answer that question, instead the agent I spoke to evasively told me that they were not investigating me. I tried to press him all I could, I mean, consider all I had been through, but he presented an impenetrable great wall of asshole. He suggested that if I had a problem with people following me around I should go to the local police. Which, actually was how I had originally opened the conversation with him, I brought up my letters and the Alameda incident and wanted to complain that this past conspiracy had attacked me again. Agent Mark somebody said the FBI had no record of me or anything ‘like that’, and he was a bit demeaning about it too. It’s actually their MO for dealing with government victims, they call you crazy, even when all the facts contradict that. “We do get a lot of distraught people up here sir, and you really have nothing to fear from us, I assure you we are not investigating you..”, and you know, I was not about to bring up the topic of Hybrid aliens. I said, “But, I’m not going to the local police because I know this is federal, and if the government wants something from me then I think they should just say so, but what they are doing is illegal…and I know you guys are not investigating me, but are you following me around?” It was like that, except he then added that if the FBI were following me around I would never know it, and that was a bit odd. It was a prideful thing, yeah I was being followed around, but by some sloppy yahoos in the ‘other’ agency. I was actually pretty mad at the guy and he did keep saying “Don’t get angry, I’m not calling you crazy” but I saw no point in continuing. Before I left, I said “You know it’s pretty amazing that you have no interest in what these people are saying to me, it really is illegal. I mean they even tell me they are the FBI and I think they’re not, and that’s not cool.”

Yeah and so I turned to leave, but the agent surprised me by saying, “No, that’s not cool, please have a seat.” So I sat down and we actually had a real discussion for about fifteen minutes as to just what exactly all these people had been saying to me. I told him about Donald Lynch giving me the FBI token and how he had totally presented himself as FBI, I found out Donald Lynch ain’t no FBI guy, that was for sure. I also told agent Mark how different people had told me there was an evil conspiracy in San Francisco called ‘The Family’ and how different people had said they were watching me. Wow man, he got really pissed off, and first asked “What kind of conspiracy!?” A criminal conspiracy I said. He wasn’t satisfied with that and man was he pissed, he said, “What does that have to do with you?” I said I didn’t know, and until our conversation right then and there I wasn’t really sure that organization even existed, I had previously assumed it was just a creation to scare me, but it did and I was scared. Wow, can you imagine, the CIA creeps had outed an authentic group to me, and more than once at that.

And you gotta figure, since I am a Hybrid alien, these ‘Family’ conspirators will be reading this, so I will deviate from my story, for just a moment, cause, I just gotta ask, what do you Family people think about the CIA outing you, and in such a nasty way? I mean who are you guys? Are you just friendly blackmarketeers, or do you do other things too? Were you involved in all that happened to me? Cause you know, it looks like you might have been, especially if you do more than black market. I mean, personally, I think blackmarketeering is good for the soul, and so are all kinds of criminal activities for that matter, printing money, stealing cars, smuggling, massive insurance fraud, I really do too, I think it’s cool, as long as you aren’t really hurting the little guy. But, that’s not the way you guys were presented to me, no-siree-Bob. Do you sell children? Do you sacrifice people to Satan? Do you kidnap people? Did you kidnap me? Are you my enemy? Are you the enemy of America? Is Donald Lynch one of your members in good standing? What do you do? Because you know…well…I think you probably do know. There is this sort of, blanket term, it’s called badguys…Are you the badguys?

You know, I hate secret societies, I really do, and you guys have no idea, I mean really you have no idea. Don’t even try and tell me anything on the subject, I am genetically engineered and part alien, and was raised by the CIA in a very special program, with a very special idea in mind. You know, my entire life was shaped by the simple idea that I would be a servant of the New World Order and these evil fucking assholes like shithead GEORGE W. BUSH. And I don’t mean, I was an itty bitty Republican’t from some backwater county either, no, I was a supporter and a believer in the Fascist ideals which were taught to me. Of course, my case was special, they had to have me, because, I represent a possible source of great power and a real threat to their policy of ‘owning’ mankind, and if all that failed, they would kill me, that was their plan. Too bad for them they failed huh? So, I really hate anyone who meets like this, in this secret way, like they are better than all of us, you know what I mean? So ‘Family’ people, do you guys think you are special? Are you better than the rest of us? You think your so hot? Did God choose you? Are you Illuminated from within? That, by the way is a reference to the stupid Illuminati, and yes, they do exist and they are assholes too! But they say that about themselves, it’s their monogram, they are ‘illuminated from within’, like their own private God. I don’t see too many of them at protest marches, no more than the government spies, I don’t see them doing much of anything actually except fighting for power, they do do that.

Anyway, the next day I called evil agent Heidi, “hello” she said, I said “Hi Heidi” to which there was only silence, I continued “How are you doing today?” she said, “Why did you do that?” I responded, “I had to know, I’m sorry, did I get you in trouble?” “Yup you sure did.” Well, first off, do you see how it works with these people, ‘why did I do that?’ it’s never anyone asking why did they do that. Like these people had stolen my life from me, and harassed me, playing me like I was some kind of Soccer ball, but in the end it is never about the actual criminals, or the crime, it’s always the victim being asked, why did they do that. When I got shot people asked me why I didn’t just cooperate with the guy and give him my money. But of course the first one to ever ask why is the one who’s committing the crime. The CIA had threatened my life repeatedly, and I reported them, and that was a problem. Give me a break! Anyway, the original essay here, discussed the more important idea of how Heidi knew I had gone over to the FBI, and just why she was in trouble. If you use logic to analyze the situation you come to the conclusion that she does work for the government, but not the FBI, however the FBI is aware of her operation, and the operation itself was considered legal. It’s strong evidence to the basic theory that indeed it was the CIA harassing me, which leads to the simple end point that if the CIA was lawfully present in my life, in such a way and in such voluminous numbers, well, then I probably am a Hybrid.

Private Parrellie…

After I was destituted in the early Summer of 1999, I considered my fate very carefully. It appeared to me that my troubles with the government conspiracy were finally over, but I had lost all of my equipment and was very depressed. I tried turning to my family for help, but they were not willing to even let me stay with them. I tried to seek help from my friends, but they too were not interested in my problems. It was so incredible to me that all those who had been so willing to take my help, in the form of my time or my money were now so unconcerned with my plight. I knew that I had had genuine relationships with these people and was unable to explain how shallow they had become. I thought perhaps I was different from those around me, in that I was able to truly love and actually considered the possibility that I might have been some kind of mutant totally alone in a world with no love. I found that none I knew had any concern for me at all, save that I would leave them alone. I was close to the streets and no one cared at all.

I decided, that since I had so misjudged the world as to contain love, when in fact there was nothing, nothing mattered anymore in this world with no love. Since nothing mattered, I felt reckless and decided to join the Army. So, at twenty-nine years old I shipped out for basic training as a 19 Kilo, a Tanker, to Fort Knox Kentucky. I knew this would at the very least provide some good adventure and a form of cheap entertainment. Wow, what an adventure that was!

Of all I could say of the events of my military training, one stands out in my mind of critical importance. One fine afternoon as we were doing our training thing, somehow I got into it with this guy named Parrellie, who always annoyed the hell out of me. Fists nearly flew, and I was so irritated I just stared Parrellie, which infuriated him, so naturally, I continued. Every time he looked at me I was watching him. This had started in some classroom during a little break they gave us, and it had already gone on for more than thirty minutes. We soon left the class, and as we were forming up our ranks outside, I continued staring at Parrellie, until finally, I realized he was near total exacerbation and close to tears. The other soldiers only consolence for him was to say “Relax man.” Yet, he was about to cry, and then he said, almost in tears, “But he’s looking at me”. And for just a split second, I connected to the word ‘look’ to my former boss in Oakland saying “Andrew, you have this look.” And I remembered my orientor in the Movement saying to me “Andrew, you have this look…” and I saw a hundred faces from crowds across my lifetime shouting at me, “What are you looking at!!!” and for that moment a deeper horror rose in my soul and I knew that somehow this was linked to it all. The Drill Sergeant broke my thought, shouting in a dead serious tone, “Parrellie! Shut the fuck up!!!” Then with a reasonable, casual tone, “Murphy, stop looking at Parrellie”.

As we began marching my shock and horror remained. The same as a man marching with a group of conspirators, all actors, all just there for him, all against him. I felt that sensation with such power, I think it perhaps came from the other soldiers themselves, for it was so strong. “But it could not be” I assured myself, “It’s nothing, there’s no connection here, nothings here”. You must understand such an exposure is overwhelming, the fear and lack of understanding is so deep and so profound that to lay such a thing on a person in a way that they know they are targeted so intensely by the great conspiracy that even their friends, who seem so kind, must in reality be totally diabolical as to be able to feign such true friendship when they know, they are only feeding you to the Machine.

Chicago…

For Christmas of ’99, the army had closed the training session and forced us all to take a two week leave. I had no where to go, and so I decided to run on up to Chicago and see the windy city. I stayed only one week as it became painfully clear to me that the feds were watching me. This confused me greatly as everything between me and them seemed to have been straightened out. Also, being in the military certainly would have changed the legal aspects of everything. Yet, there they were, it was undeniable, and I was flabbergasted and confused. I was staying in a hotel over in Greek town, and spent my days strolling around the city and my nights in cafes or watching movies. I’d return to my hotel each night around midnight. The city was quiet and the streets I walked became fairly deserted, so it was pretty easy to spot the feds, but were they really watching me? Each night there were more and more of them on my way home and all over Greek town. Finally, on my fourth night, upon my arrival at my hotel, there were fifty + vehicles and a host of undercover and semi undercover personal strolling about. I paused by the front door of the hotel and thought for a moment. There was a falafel place next to the hotel lobby and for certain there would be a trillion of them in there hanging around, regardless of who was their designated victim. If I were known to them, then they would react in some way should I enter the eatery. So, I went in and had some food.

I sat down in the back room at the first table, closest to the entry way, amidst about twenty US marshals, uniformed, badged and gunned. They paused in their conversation as I sat down, like maybe in a John Wayne movie. I tried to get a fast sly glance over to see if they had noticed me and sure enough all eyes were on me, so much for the sly glance.

Here is what they said: The one closest to me turned to an older man and said “To be honest Fred, at this moment in time, I’m scared, I’m truly really, really scared. This situation is totally out of control.” Fred responded simultaneously with a voice in the back. He said, “That’s what the pea shooter on your side is for” referring of course to his sidearm. Guy number one then says, “But I thought we couldn’t use lethal force.” Fred say’s “ Well, no, in certain situations if they are life threatening.” The voice in the rear speaking simultaneously is a woman’s and says “There’s a window in the women’s restroom, I’ll check and if it opens, I’m climbing out.” A moment later the same voice says, “It does.” The women in the group, except one, all vanish into the restroom, not returning. One is left presuming that they actually climbed out into the ally. One of the men with a sense of what it means to actually be a man, pronounces rather fatalistically, “Well, I’m leaving and I’m going this way” pointing in my direction. He leaves walking very intently past me and said “Good evening” or “Hello” or something like that as he past me, clearly one of the few among them worthy of his badge.

Next door there is a bar, operated by the same owners as the falafel place, that has an adjoining door to the restaurant. It is the only exit, other than past me, or out the window in the women’s restroom. So this US marshal commander guy says to his remaining group “Come on everybody, we’re going into the bar and I’m buying everyone a drink.” Someone in the back mumbles “Are you serious sir? We’re on duty.” As he opens the door he says “Oh thank God” (I suppose that it wasn’t locked) and all but two leave with him and no they didn’t have a drink. The last of the others who left asked the two who remained behind, “You guys aren’t coming?” They said they would be along soon, and the man hesitated at the door and started to say something and then thought better of it and left.

The two remaining sat at a table in the middle of the room and had a whispered conversation which I could hear about half of. They talked about rules and regulations and something that had just happened that night. They went on further into a deep conversation about philosophy and morality, and then maybe after about twenty minutes, they spoke to me. They asked me only how I was doing and if I lived in the area or was on vacation, and what I thought of Chicago. It was an icy conversation but I hadn’t spoken to anyone the entire four days I had been there, so I was glad to have it. I spoke briefly, telling them I was just visiting, I said it was very cold and asked them if they lived in Chicago. They were so quiet and the conversation was so very icy and uncomfortable, and the woman answered me in a whispered “yes”. I asked them if they and their friends were US marshals, which was a bit silly considering they wore uniforms, and they slowly nodded their heads and maybe said another yes which was whispered too quietly for even me to hear. Then they just sat there staring at me, like a bird stares at something which it’s quite not sure is real, and there shoulders had risen high as a frightened child might before an angry parent who beats them. They were weird, and they were looking at me, and though I waited for them to say more, they said nothing, and I was too creeped to out then to even finish my food and it was I who stood then and said “Goodnight” and left.

How funny that was you know, those women climbed out the bathroom window rather than walk by me. I can wonder what they must have thought, it would have been readily apparent that I had noticed there overwhelming presence in the area and had come to have a look at them. I used to think they behaved like chickens, but now, it’s more than that, they were so afraid of me. I think that perhaps most of my life half of the troubles these conspiracy people have given me has been from their own fear, and it’s funny, because I kind of hate them for that. I mean really, what could they have possibly been afraid of? That I might eat them? I already had a falafel on my plate you know. They are so afraid, they don’t even know what they do to me. Of course at the time, I really had no idea, it was weird, and they had definitely reacted to my presence, but their reaction was too ridiculous to have been for me. I couldn’t understand that at all, not back then. I wonder what John Wayne would do if he met an alien? I don’t look like an alien though, I look so nice and normal.

The Twelve Tribes of Israel…

I met up with these characters on Christmas day, the day after I had left Chicago. I had decided to take a bus over to New York where one of the guys in my training unit lived and had invited me for new years. It’s interesting because, I had arrived in Albany that morning around eight and I didn’t want to stand around waiting for the bus over to Troy, mostly because there were all these weird people in the bus station that all had their eyes glued on yours truly. So, I walked for a couple of hours in the direction of Troy figuring that I would stop at a motel for the night and what’s kind of weird, or really weird, is that I had been thinking that what would be really interesting and I’m ashamed to say, inexpensive, would be if I ran into some sort of religious cult that would invite me to spend the holidays with them. And can you believe that that is exactly what happened on that highway between Albany and Troy? That kinda belongs in the mind control chapter, but things like that are pretty common in my life anyway. I used to think it was God watching over me, how naïve I was.

They pulled up in this van and were hesitating to speak to me, and you know, it was pretty odd, I could tell they were religious cultist and I broke the ice a bit by being friendly and using body language, I assured them I would not eat them. I walked up to them, and they offered me a ride over to Troy if I wanted, which was just great. They had all kinds of literature in their van and I was looking at it and they told me they were a with group called ‘The Twelve Tribes of Israel’, and they had been out doing campaign work, which I guess they might call gospel work or something like that, but to me it’s all campaign work, you know, weather you are campaigning for peace or Jesus it’s the same kind of work. They told me that they wanted to find someone who had nowhere to go since it was Christmas in the ‘tradition’ and invite them for a few days if they wanted and they invited me, which of course was already my plan.

The cult itself is an interesting group of what is called Messianic Jews, although perhaps that’s not quite correct terminology. In my opinion, just for the record on religion, their study of Biblical law is the correct one and they are the only people I have ever met who were totally on target in this area. Man, they really knew their stuff, and it was a lot of fun, for a few days anyway. They told me that if I wanted to get out of the Army they knew a good lawyer and offered to help me. They are into nonviolence you know, and asked me if I was sure about the Army thing. It’s funny, I could have totally just stayed there with them for the rest of my life if I wanted. There were even a couple of really beautiful single women that would have been perfect for me, but you know, in religious cults it’s all or nothing, which isn’t bad, not at all, it just wasn’t for me, not right then.

So they had this really beautiful commune which was in separated buildings in this little town called Cambridge on the Hudson river. I noticed three and a half things while I was there. First I noticed they had the same major federal surveillance I’d seen so much of already. I didn’t think this had to do with me, but rather the governments concerns over millenialism and in particular they were watching the actions of the various religious cults. This had been in fact reported all over the news, and I had seen news clips of religious people arguing with feds who were reportedly surveilling their groups. When I saw that stuff, all I thought was that I had a really bad way of constantly ending up in the spotlight, but I figured my name was clean enough and these were nice people, so it was all cool in my mind.

The second thing was really strange. Each night we’d have these really intense discussions of biblical interpretation, the meaning of life, creation, God and all that is. It was in the midst of one of these talks I was having with two of the brothers, when the one I’m not looking at begins twitching his eyes. I don’t know, you know, I mean maybe the guy had some sort of medical problem or a mental problem, so you know I don’t say anything. When he kept doing it, I turned and looked at him, kind of thinking like “Oh no…” he stopped, kind of looks shy, like he’s got some sort of weird habit and just got caught, and then, right away he picks up the conversation, continuing to discuss a finer point of some very profound topic. Then the guy on my right starts doing the same thing with his eyes!!! Just as I’m really getting annoyed and am about to say something, he says “Andrew, look at me” I turn and he stares straight at me twitching his eyes. Then the first guy starts again! In a voice of exacerbation, I say “What are you guys doing?” They stop their stupid twitching and looking at the floor say “Nothing”. Both have the look of the fool on their faces and I, preferring to continue my pleasant stay, dreaming of a reality that doesn’t exist, say nothing more of this idiocy, allowing it to slide. In reality, things like that are really very disappointing and if you face them, they ruin everything, because you always want people who are playing such roles to continue the role you so appreciate. Of course they were up to no good, but if I accepted that, I would have been terribly disappointed and would have felt the need to leave, especially if I said something about it. It’s always been like that my whole life, you know, you meet the super cool people and then find out they had some freaky sex party or something, which totally contradicts who they have convinced you they are. Sometimes I yell at people and it can get pretty ugly, so whatever, you know, I was already feeling guilty about the free vacation.

The third thing that I thought was odd, was how they made it a point to discuss with me the religious endowment from God of the right for a government to exist. I am very familiar with the concept of government only existing with the approval of God, but it becomes very complicated in that every government came into it’s existence through illegal means, which of course were approved by God, right? So if God doesn’t like your government he will bring it down, and at that moment of revolution, the religious supporters will always claim you are a heretic defying the will of God, and if so, if that interpretation were correct, all revolutionaries would be heretics, but if they were endowed by God…it’s actually totally different. The concept, really is not one of subservience to arcane laws, but rather has to do with the idea that you are a member of a society of people who have laws, and that as their equal before God, you must be willing to stand as an equal before the same law of your brothers, and not above those laws. It is your duty to be a member of society and follow the laws of that society. So, it never actually is supporting any particular administrative governmental body, nor does it condemn any revolutionary groups. It does not mean, Caesar is Caesar because he is Caesar therefore he is, was and always will be Caesar, no it doesn’t mean that, in a way it has nothing to do with the government at all.

I didn’t want to go off into any revolutionary tirades with these nice people and I also didn’t want to discuss my past civilian fiascos with them, but none the less, we did become slightly impassioned in this discussion. Clearly, I was not a supporter of our Constitutional Monarchy, er, I mean our Republic and they knew it. They tried to convince me of this nonexistent Biblical point for a long time, and in the passion of what could easily have become a bitter argument, I realized they were patriotic loyalist to the US government, which was both highly remarkable and very contradictory, considering they were practicing a form of very pure Christian Humanism, which sees no boundaries between human beings, as we all stand equal before God, hence, their stupid law. I agreed with them that initially all governments are ‘approved’ with the Lords ‘stamp’, but I kept pushing the question, just when does a government lose that stamp of approval. Anyway, it was very contradictory and they were getting mad, and kept demanding that I provide them with specific examples of our governments misdeeds, like what the CIA did to me in Alameda and a thousand other Americans in a thousand other cities, but I wasn’t gonna bring that up, so I let it all slide and just let them win the argument and agreed with them.

The half point I mentioned is really minor, and most of you would never consider it at all, but it really does hold potential deeper meaning. The head of this little commune was an older guy and really cool and super mellow, but he had worked previously for the US customs. The problem with that, is that customs agents are a kind of special agent. They are both in law enforcement and in national secrurity, and though it does not mean they don’t quit their jobs to find God, what it does mean, is that they are very commonly recruited into other agencies or special task forces. Everyone you meet in the CIA or the Secret Service or the NSA or the DIA or the DEA or US Marshals Service, all hold the exact same type of credentials and that is they always worked another primary job somewhere before, even if it was five years for their own agency. It’s very common especially in the clandestine services. Maybe it meant nothing, but maybe it did. I was however surprised when he told me that. And if someday someone tells you such a thing, do not assume it means nothing, because it does open a door to other possibilities which may not have existed.

Like I said, I liked these people, and I had a pretty good time with them, and sometimes religion can really be a lot of fun. But, looking back on it, I see more than I did at that time, and though I hesitate to ‘out’ these people, the fact remains, that what happened, did happen and it means that these people are not at all who they say. I think that often such organizations are created by the state itself, and the membership, it is stocked with people who live in two worlds, having been recruited from national security personal and screened as those who already hold complimentary beliefs with the group being formed. They may believe that what they are doing is a true public service, and is two fold, however I know this is not that is not true. Consider their experiment, and consider their desire to convince me, using false religious grounds that this criminal government is supported by God. They are deceivers and we have a word for such people in religion, ‘evil shitheads’. It gets pretty ugly indeed.

Going back to the third point for a moment, something of greater note and worth a little bit more attention, is not just that they were patriotic government loyalist, but rather that a couple of weeks prior to this, while in training, a few of the guys had asked me a question regarding my personal political beliefs. I told them that most people see things from a Republican or Democratic viewpoint, and that they tend to fit any political discussion into that view, which I said was all good and fine as I too fit in such a system of political beliefs, but in todays America, this thing had happened which has happened which has brought us away from continuing such a possibility. I told them that my father had warned me of it years ago and that though I never thought he could have been correct, here I have come to understand what he meant and that he was of course right. In the history of Earth, all great nations follow the same procession; from struggle, to progress, to stagnation & corruption, then revolution through military intervention, to military dictatorship and later to democratic renewal. My father had said that military dictatorships come about from slightly abusive, slightly non-responsive, slightly police state type systems in which there may or may not be true political oppression of a few, but usually not any oppression of the many. However, the people have a sensation of paranoia and betrayal at that point when the secret police become a visible part of society and who they see take slight opportunity through their positions. The military is also a part of society and is globally notorious in it’s dislike of elitism and always does, as they will here in the United States too, seize power from the non-responsive elite slugs. It is inevitable. And you believe me when I say that incidentally, or you might just be surprised, because that will happen, right here in the good’ol US of A. I told them that classical citizen politics no longer existed in the US and that I only hoped that as a perk of being in the military, that perhaps I would be fortunate enough to be present and in uniform so that I could participate on that day. That shocked them all so visibly that despite the fact that they said nothing I knew that I shouldn’t have said it. I thought at the time I had just made a big mistake, and I thought ‘Who are these guys?’ What if due to my terrible civilian situation these were military intel guys who were in a training unit comprised of such misfits and were only asking to see if I was still normal? I had an immediate rush of paranoia flooded over me and I thought “Oh my God, I just got myself kicked out of the Army.” Radical politics are totally against military rules and they do kick people out all the time for this stuff. In fact, when you join the service, they ask you an entire set of questions regarding your past political affiliations and it is very serious. Nothing was ever said though and I never repeated this again at any time I was in the military.

On the second point, the eye twitching deal, I had no idea at the time, and nor did I care, but there was something that happened a long time ago, when I was only twelve years old. I had been at a friends house on some Saturday, when this friend and one of his friends were doing this same twitching of the eyes. They were making a real point of it you know, and I had no interest, but soon they asked me if I could do this thing too, which of course everyone can, I think. And they said I should show them, but I refused. They kept doing this stupid twitching looking at each other and then back at me. His mother was in the kitchen and yelled to “Knock it off”. But these two little fiends from my youth just kept going, and of course they soon declared that I would not do this thing, because I could not do this thing. It was very ridiculous, you know, it’s how children are, I turned my back to them and stood looking at his mother in the kitchen doing her motherly things, and she turned to me and said with honest empathy, “You just ignore them now, Andrew and don’t let them bother you.” But bother me they did, and my friend, he walked behind me and hit me on the back and said “Show me you can do it, show me now!” And you know, this is one of the tricks of Hybrids and I assume the aliens too, if we do this and combine it with one our special looks, the individual we do it too becomes paralyzed. I believe it is the brain waves of the subject that are disrupted by a kind of rapid, open-close signal, into their brain, which when done so many times in this way, it causes a kind of seizer followed by an automatic ‘resetting’ of the brains motor functions. It could take hours for them to return to normal. I turned around and I was so mad, that I was in fact ‘looking’ at my friend and when I twitched my eyes to show him I could, he collapsed, like a sack of potatoes. His mother screamed at him “Get up!” but he could not, he said “I can’t move” and of course she turned to me, and screamed at me, a knowing scream, “What have you done to him!” I had no idea, what had happened except that it had nothing to do with me. But he really couldn’t move and his father came out and they took him into one of the bedrooms and I waited in the living room. His mother came out in a little while and told me he would be fine and apologized for yelling at me, and then drove me home, which she never did. So, that evening back in the little commune, I think they were trying to get me to have that ‘look’ and experiment if they could paralyze themselves or something. Do you like that word, ‘experiment’? I was their experiment, hmmm I’m not really so sure I like that too much.

I must say that I am still amazed that these men of a religious group would think it acceptable to operate as secret agents of the state using the shadow of their God as their cover. I can’t help but think that that might not be a good idea, but then, what do I know, I mean really I think I’m an alien, you know? Of course I also believe in God…

Black limos, Black helicopters…

First off, before I tell you any of this stuff, let me tell you that the purpose of these ‘things’ are to terrorize individuals who are so targeted by the government. The entire basis of a mystery behind their existence is so that the victims are left helpless. Only one good thing comes of it all, if you destroy these vehicles, particularly the helicopters, well now, they don’t really exist now do they?

That said, just how obvious and confusing can people be at the same time? As I returned to the civilian world of San Francisco in May of 2000, I tiptoed out of the airport looking for any unwanted reception. All was clear, or so I thought. Over the next few weeks there, I noticed that I was being followed around by these wicked looking black Lincoln Town Cars all over the place. I used to say that they had been following me politely, but that really is ridiculous, they were in my face, so that I might know who was boss, that is the reality. Also, if I looked at them to long, they too picked fights with me, and what kind of fool would fight a federal agent? These vehicles had all the classic markings of federal fleet vehicles, that I had been forced to learn the previous year, all solid black windows rear of the driver among a few. These vehicles however had another interesting feature I had never seen before, a small dayglow orange sticker attached to the rear of their bumpers for all the world to see. Aside from the ones that were shadowing me all over, I noticed quiet a few more of these in use throughout the city. So, one day I spent a few hours watching where these guys came from, and I followed them to their apparent source, which to my amazement, I actually found. That’s two for two, right there! A giant parking lot next to the Bryant street police station in the SOMA district that was chalked full of these black Lincolns, all complete with that stupid little sticker. That’s the General Services Administration’s lot, findable and observable by anyone. And sure enough, right there on that stupid little sticker it said ‘GSA lot such and such May 2000’. For those of you who don’t know what the GSA is I will tell you, it is the supply department for the federal government. There is only one such agency in the United States, and they provide everything from desks to black limousines.

Oh, and as long as we are discussing black vehicles, yes, I have seen black helicopters on several occasions. The first time, I saw a huge black Huey thing fly across the empty flea market parking lot in ’99 and all I thought aside from, ‘So they do exist…’ was that I hoped it wasn’t there for me. The second time was really scary, as on that occasion I was standing alone, in the same stupid lot, and I heard this really quiet sound, like a whisper of a fan directly above me and I felt a slight downward breeze. I looked up slowly, despite that ‘Oh man what now’ feeling and I saw a very black, very shiny, very silent, kinda small helicopter, right over me. And this is very important here, this helicopter was no ordinary helicopter, it was using an anti-gravity device, which if you ever saw in use, you would recognize right away. Such a craft will appear to be surrealistically frozen in space, in such a way that if you were to make the first ten floors of a twenty story building invisible, it would look like that. You see, such a craft, anchors itself to the earth, just as a building does, except it is anchored to the gravity field and does not touch any solid matter. When I saw that helicopter frozen in space up there, I really was surprised, rather than feel fear or the hard core terror that I am sure was their goal, I just thought ‘Dam, now I know I am in serious trouble’ but still, I was confused to the total awesomeness of the conspiratorial nature of such things. I really thought they had gone overboard on that one.

Bartending school…

In the summer of 2001 I couldn’t find a job no matter what, I hadn’t worked since I had returned from up north, it was like I had a curse, a curse of the CIA wanting me dead type curse. So, I enrolled in this course, in which they had promised job placement, liars. Of course, before I tell you that, I want to tell you where George W. Bush forced me to get my money, since no one would give me any. I signed up for a medical experiment, one where they did a spinal tap and paid you $2300 for four days of your time, and God dam did that hurt! They are not supposed to hurt like that. It felt like I was being crushed between two trucks, and you know, from here, until the end of time, I will know, that doctor caused my pain with intention. Of course, I knew they would do that, but I went ahead anyway, because it’s just pain you know, and if that is what the United States of America wants to do to me, as I live the course of my life, then they can, I can’t stop them, nor will I alter my path, I will however remember, that day, and ten thousand more just like it.

So anyway, I was down in Hawthorn at this little bartending school mixing up fake drinks and chatting away and all that you know, when on the second day of class something interesting happened. I arrived a few minutes early and as I was looking through my papers, I overheard the owner of the school speaking to one of the instructors. The owner was complaining because someone had spilled open the contents of a three hole puncher onto the floor and left the mess for someone else to clean up. Then he said how the Secret Service, the CIA, and the Air Force comes in and there’s hole punches everywhere. He sure was pissed and said, “High level guys like that come in here and there’s hole punches everywhere and we look all messy and stuff.” I guess they figured I was listening cause they then closed the door, but I must say, the whole punch got out. Not that that means anything other than some good gossip, however it is somewhat interesting. Perhaps they needed to make a better Martini. But then, what do I know, you know?

Those who make peaceful revolution impossible make violent revolution inevitable.

--John F. Kennedy

Chapter Five

EXPOSURE

Exposure…this is what really hurts the conspiracy you know, the truth burns them like the sun burns vampires, and in a way, the evil masters of our government and the captains of our industry, these are modern vampires, a parasitic class of people living off the working masses. In January of 2001, I was looking forward to the incoming Bush administration, I thought they were going to be cool, since the Clinton administration were such assholes to me, you know. I even knew their secret of the election scam, but what I didn’t know was that it was all made possible by one evil man who unfortunately hated me, George J. Tenet, the then Director of the CIA and his new White House Colleagues had only expanded his control over my case. In fact, it was outgoing President Clinton who wanted to close my case and make peace with me, just like all those pardons and kinds of stuff he handed out to everyone, like candy. George J. Tenet sabotaged all of it, for what ultimate reason, I can only speculate, they wanted me to grovel, and beg and give up everything that I could hold as any kind of negotiating power, weather I knew I had it, or not.

I was a little confused at that point because things had become financially difficult for me, like really bad. I thought perhaps the George W. Bush guy wanted to make a point before he was cool, but I didn’t appreciate it, and from Los Angeles I called Heidi and asked her when they were going to run out the official contact, and finally end the game. She told me things weren’t looking so good for me, and that it might be some time, and then she told me she had been forbidden from speaking to me anymore. I did speak to her a few more times, but not many. So, I waited, and after two weeks of the new administration, I decided that if they were going to be assholes to me, I would be an asshole back and the best way I could think of was to, expose them, and I told them so too. And they probably laughed at me. It’s kind of funny you know, imagine an alien tells you that he knows it’s a fight now, and tells you with confidence, that though he doesn’t know how, he does know in the end he will destroy you, and I can’t say I am winning, but I am winning. Imagine, a senseless ego fight, a pissing contest with an alien. It’s all fine, until they do something, well, alien.

But how to expose? There was the internet, there were UFO groups, I could write them letters. And I started with a letter writing campaign to UFO groups, and it was a pathetic effort, I mean I wrote a hundred letters, and any that got through, well, they probably ended up with a government organization, set up as a UFO group. And today, I do think they are all government run. It was interesting though, I had some fun sending the letters and I blew off a little steam. But the real exposure began much later, it began with my poster campaigns. I started that type of action in May of 2002. See, back when I was in the Movement I spent a lot of time studying methods for public outreach and the classic method, which is and has been used throughout the world for hundreds if not thousands of years, are posters. In the Movement we had meetings to study the topic of posters, what to say, how to say it, and where to put them out. The movement is a global organization, with very little money and everywhere, it posters. A simple message, concise, clear, and easy to understand. It is advertising in reality, and all advertising is the same, that is to say, fundamentally it all follows the same principles, a target market, a general idea, followed with greater complexity beyond the opening. The use of graphics and visual presentation is also the same, including icons, catch phrases, layout and design. And that design is dictated not by a person in an office, but rather by three simple factors; human psychology, specific cultural understanding, and the medium of presentation. By the way, are you familiar with the advertisement by Nike, which proclaims ‘Life is Short’? Well, that came from the Movement, it was their most effective slogan ever. Nike waited for about six months after we started, before they ran it out.

I did use the internet but I always thought it would be so easy for them to erase postings or better yet, just copy what I looked at on the internet, into an intranet, so that I was logging into their private system, but I’m not so sure about that. I used the Internet a lot, and in the end it became a great tool for communicating, not just with the government, but with the secret societies as well, and if there is anybody that hates secret societies more than me, it is the government, even though, for the most part, the government is run by different secret societies. I would post a bunch of rants, just to get it out of my blood you know, and then, the site would go down. Over and over sites I posted on were removed. I thought, perhaps they were just making it look like I was really posting on the internet, but then, you know, over time, I began to see feelers coming around were I lived and worked, and you know what a feeler is don’t you? A feeler is a person who is sent to a location to check and see if there is any truth to a rumor. I can always tell a feeler from a conspirator, because the feeler is different in many ways that are hard to explain, but mostly, it is the members of the conspiracy themselves who will begin to interact with the feeler. And it is not friendly interaction. The beauty of things like this is that there are thousands of groups and organizations that do know what is really going on and would desperately like to participate. So they have hobbies, as so many people do, and they look and they have people looking for them for any reports of anything unusual, anything at all, no matter how silly. And you know what’s funny? This will probably change by the time this book comes out, but on the Internet, there are very, very few people who claim to be a hybrid. And I mean under five or six. One was total bullshit, the others I could not contact. I was surprised by that, and if nothing else, it meant that my postings, should they go anywhere real, would definitely draw in a lot of feelers. The real beauty of course lies in the idea that a person is sent to find me and look at me, ok, so they do, but what else would they see, I mean if I were really an alien? They would see tons of government personnel and they, with their trained eye, would either, go back to whomever sent them, reporting, a large operation exists seemingly centered around this one guy, or better still, they would not return at all. I have three places that I mentioned in my exposure work for the feelers to go look, and that is Alameda, Venice, and the Civic Center Hotel in San Francisco.

My Internet work did seem to draw in people, but what I found worked better, were posters. I thought that whoever was watching the Internet or whoever I could reach using that medium had already been reached, and now it was time to say hello to the public. My first posters were only designed to annoy the conspiracy and didn’t even mention my name. I got a good feeling from them though and so I always spent money and put them out. There is the one thing that really bugs our government and that is when you talk about aliens. I had strange people coming around, and I got followed a couple times, late at night, while I was postering, by people that I didn’t think were government, which I of course thought was just great, I even had someone spray paint my bus! Another group, called ‘So So Human’, which is supposed to be a music band, showed up in Venice and parked right on my street. After a week they left, but not before spray painting my tires, ‘so so’, but I have no idea what that means. I had wanted to redesign my posters and so in the summer of 2002 the voices and I redesigned them to what they are now.

Before that time though, I had a moment of decision. You see after I lost my job, at the stupid French restaurant, I knew I would be forced to be unemployed for many months to punish me for being a good man, well, actually, I think it was in the hopes I would take my own life, which I finally decided to do. I first decided to buy a gun and go up and kill some of those flea market assholes, in particular, I wanted to kill Don Fragoso, and so I laid out six hundred bucks for really nice revolver, it would be perfect. But can you believe, because the asshole cops in Alameda had given me a 51/50, I was listed, erroneously also, according to the letter of the law, because a 51/50 isn’t quite enough, as a mental patient and Federal law forbids the sale of a firearm to such people. I would have to file a complaint against the State of California in Federal court to get my gun rights back. And by the way, if I had a gun, the night I got shot, it wouldn’t have happened. Anyway, I was really depressed by that and I thought that what I would do is just go up there to Oakland and talk to a few people I had known before. I thought if they didn’t give me any satisfaction, I could still use a blunt object to at least kill Don. I could always commit suicide after, so it was a pretty good idea. Who knows, maybe had I found them, they would have been cooperative. See, what I really wanted, aside from the game ending, I wanted to meet the other Hybrids. I’m sure at gunpoint or maybe even knifepoint, I could have gotten any of those people I knew at the flea market to take me to one of the others.

I had no weapon, but decided to go on up anyway, and so I drove up to Oakland on June 11th of 2002. I had enough money for that alone and I would end this game one way or another. I arrived at the coliseum flea market at 4:30 pm. And of the unit of 19 people who worked at that market and who worked on my case, only Tim and Dana were present. I was shocked no one was there, but then, no doubt they had been warned of my coming and clearly showed their guilt, cowardice, and fear by not being present. I spoke to Tim, and I told him I knew he was part of the operation against me. I asked him “Tim am I genetically engineered? Do I have a twin brother Tim? Who are you Tim? Are you CIA? A US Marshal? You were very mean to me Tim, all of you were very mean.” I must say, that was one of the more satisfying conversations I have ever had. Tim didn’t deny it, he just looked at me like such an evil spy who had been caught would, and it felt really good. Next I headed over to the Alameda Police Department. I had written them a very nice letter telling them that I forgave them for what happened and I assumed it was just them screwing up what they thought was a CIA operation, I had given them that letter some time earlier in the year. But you know, I thought about it, and just wasn’t right, because not one of them has ever tried to contact me or to send word or to help me or to say they were sorry for failing their duty to Humanity. And I realized, I had no right to assume anything and I had no right under the circumstances where I was preparing to take my own life, that I should forgive anyone who had been involved in my destruction. It made me sick. So I wrote them a new letter, rescinding my forgiveness and telling them that not only shall I be praying for their deaths and their destruction, but also, that if I were an alien, they could certainly expect legal action against themselves in the future, which they still can. I mean really, it’s one thing to fuck up, but it’s another thing to not rectify. So I went on over to Alameda and I gave them a chance to rectify their wrong. They had nothing to say to me, and the officers I spoke to said they were not the ones present that night and freely denied all I said happened. So, I gave them that note and I told them you remember me and remember I came here and don’t you ever forget, that I gave those men a chance to say something. And I know, you are all going to say, well what could they do anyway, I mean if they did sneak on over to find me in Venice, they would only be throwing their lives away, right? Well your God dam right and that is their duty now, they must rectify, but instead, they cooperate with evil men who plot against me, just so that they might live a few years longer, and you know, we all die, eventually we all die, and so what difference does it really make, if it is today or sixty years from now? I mean let’s face facts, life sucks, and that’s all there is to it. I only live because I have a basic instinct in my body which rejects suicide, and I hold the basic premise that there might be a God, and so I continue through this shitty world. I have stood my whole life though and I still do, and you know, when it comes to life, it’s what one hundred years? But death is eternity, and though I don’t really know about God, I do know I have a soul and it is immortal, so who cares about this life? I mean really, when it matters, will you kneel down before your God, or Goerge W. Fuckhead?

My stupid motorcycle broke down on the way to Alameda, and so I left it on the side of the road as I wouldn’t be needing it anymore. I had walked to Alameda, and I walked back to Oakland and all the way to the BART station. I took the BART over to San Francisco and walked to the Golden Gate Bridge from which I had intended to throw myself off. I got lost twice and when I arrived I saw they locked the gate at 3:30 pm. I spent the night under an overpass inside the Presidio, which incidentally is one of the strangest places I have seen in a long time, streets, houses, all neat, tidy, but all empty, like the end of the world. As the last man on the Earth I prepared my soul for an unavoidable death and slowly went to sleep. I kept thinking there were people around there, like homeless people, and I kept hearing what I thought were voices and people walking up the hill near me. I would snap awake and call out, but there was no one, and I thought then, it was the traffic above me which along with the creepy surroundings and nothing more.

On the morning of June twelfth 2002, the world had returned, but I decided to sleep in as I felt so comfy under that terrible overpass. I thought, ‘who cares anyway, I mean I was planning to end it all then so you know might as well get some extra sleep. At 10:30 I woke up refreshed and unable to sleep any more and I headed on up to the visitors center where I cleaned up a bit, put on my better jeans and spent my last three dollars on a coffee and a muffin. Tourist were abundant, there were plenty of people everywhere so when a man on a bicycle pushed his way past everyone in front of me, smiling at me, heading straight for me, I waited for this surprise. He stopped before me and with a big smile said, “What time is it?” Now, bear in mind, my watch was concealed beneath my coat, I was behind a crowd, looked like a bum, and I’m certain he wasn’t a faggot, so why me? I checked my watch, it read 11:30. I said this to him and his smile slowly vanished, his face was swept by a look of confused aghastment, he repeated back to me as if he had just missed the appointment of a lifetime “11:30”. He was a spy, and I didn’t know what his problem was but he was beginning to annoy me and I repeated very clearly and a bit sharp “Yes, 11:30.” He stared at me in disbelief. I sighed, my entire body pausing in irritation, and somewhat harshly told this prick, “11:30 am pacific standard time.” He held up his hand and said “Ok” and went off.

I will spare you the suspense, as it was seven and a half hours later that I discovered my watch was slow by one hour and ten minutes. My watch had stopped overnight for more than an hour. What had happened? Was this the ‘missing time’ that so many abductees complain about. The watch worked fine for two more years after that and always kept good time, it had not slowed, it had stopped. I think the noises I heard that night may have been alien activity and this man had been sent to access the accuracy of my watch itself. It is a well known part of the alien phenomena that such devices as watches will tend to stop in their presence, perhaps from interference of whatever their power source is. And the trouble on this occasion was that the aliens had been there and had done something, but what then? It was pretty serious for that man, for they all knew, I was going to the bridge and why would the aliens come then? I still don’t know the answer to that question, but it was pretty cool to discover the watch thing later.

Ok, back to the bridge. I strolled across to the center of the bridge, sincerely considering the height and my probability of death on impact. Suddenly the bridge did not seem quite so high as it had seemed on another occasion in 2000 when I had not even been able to walk out past where the fence on the side ends. This makes me think deep thoughts, why was I so comfortable? This may have been what the aliens had done to me overnight. I stood there leaning on the rail so long a bridge worker came over and asked me if I was ok? I answered his questions to his satisfaction and he drove away in his little cart. I stood in the exact center of the bridge for over an hour enjoying the view and contemplating life. I had really only come here to threaten the conspiracy with my death, thinking that they would not allow it. They were not biting and so I climbed out over the rail, and I stepped to the edge. I thought this would be a moment of decision, for certain the conspiracy would not permit me to jump.

The bridge people came along screaming and begging me not to jump. And then the highway patrol came out and a little crowd of these people formed, and I spoke to them and as I did I watched the conspiracy people all leave the bridge and I saw a few of their cars park on the North side to watch me. That was not it though, one of them gave me the middle finger and you know that is the way they are. From the beginning to the end, they have hated me, and on this day I was not in a bad spot for them, I was where they almost wanted me, just a few feet over and they would have been happy. I told the highway patrol I had no money and no job, and this was why I was jumping and I waited a little while talking to these normal civilians about this and that all the while waiting for the conspiracy to come and confess to me and take me off that bridge, but they never did. I watched them from a far and the officer closest to me, who was a really nice guy he looked over to see what I was looking at and he saw that little line up of white cars over there and he asked me then if I was in some legal trouble. It was really depressing you know, and I shook my head, and I told that guy a few things, I told him how I had past trouble with the feds and that today they still hassled me, and this was why I was on the bridge, I told them how the feds blocked me from working and a bit about Alameda, and I didn’t care if they believed me or not, and it was really funny, because they did believe me, the little I told them. There was a Lieutenant who quoted two case names and said remember these times, we all know what the jerks the feds are. And they said I didn’t have to lose and you know they went on about writing letters to newspapers and complaining to my congressmen and stuff like that, and I just nodded because I knew that my troubles were beyond all that, and I paused for a moment and I looked out over the bay and I thought so this was it then, they really wouldn’t come, they really wanted me dead. I thought if I came off that bridge nothing would change, and then I thought ‘what the hell, I was already there why not jump’ and I moved to do that, I stood at the outer most point and this little crowd, they were so disturbed to see that, and I remember the voice of the Lieutenant, she was such a kindly person and she said, “Don’t let them win”.

And you know I looked down then, and I saw the most amazing thing ever, I saw the water of the bay had changed into a brilliant electric blue, and it wasn’t just a color, what I saw was not the water, it was a doorway to another world and it had opened for me, it was truly a supernatural thing that I saw. I was so amazed and I knew then, that if I wanted, I was free to end the game right then and there and that indeed, I would die should I jump. It was then that the voices spoke to me, and they said “Do you see Andrew how the conspiracy wants you to die? But do you see how kind the people are here, they are just normal people, and this is the true nature of society. You came here so long ago to help these people Andrew, it was us that sent you here, and it has not been easy for you. You are free now Andrew, we will let you go if you want, and all you will do, is to come home to us, if you jump you will be here with us before you even hit the water and all your friends are here and no one will look badly at you for doing this.” I saw that water below me looking like something you might see on a Startrek episode, and though I saw that and though they said that to me, I wasn’t so sure. A voice in your head, I mean really, what is that, you know? Aliens? It went against everything I ever believed for my whole life. Was what I saw real, or was it some kind of an illusion? Someone ‘sent’ me, it bothered me that they said that, it really did. And then I thought about that asshole on the pedestrian walk who had given me the finger, it had been in a hidden way so that I might alone see it, and I really wished I could have killed that guy instead of myself. What a shitty deal man. And you know, I stood there and I didn’t think about aliens or the supernatural color of the bay, that I alone could see, I thought I don’t want to die, but how can I fight an organization like the CIA, I mean who the hell am I? I am just one man you know, and if these people really wanted me dead, I didn’t stand a chance of ever doing anything to them, even if I were an alien.

I felt so sad, this was a world with no love, and I had no chance, but right away the voices countered to me, it was not true. They said I ought to consider the people of the world around me were the people on the bridge there with me, and sure they were whatever they were, but they did have a bit of concern and they weren’t bad, certainly they were nothing like the CIA or any of those nasty people, these were good people. I still didn’t know what to do, and the voices said more, they told me I was not just one man, but in fact I was ‘their’ man and that if I decided to live, they could guarantee that I would destroy the conspiracy, not only expose them, but, finish them. I saw in my mind the man giving me that finger and they said “Yes Andrew, if you live, you will have more justice than anything you could dream, and it will go much further than just the CIA, you will crush them all.” And when they said that part about crushing them all, I saw pictures in my mind of all kinds of people all over the place, I saw our government, with the president giving one of his big speeches to congress and I saw each ones office and all those nasty people who work for them, I saw them all being so ‘cute’ to each other, and I saw so much more, so many things and so many people they were like ants and in my minds eye, it was as if I could somehow see them all being crushed, and it was really incredible. I felt suddenly so motivated to live, I was so excited. My excitement was short lived, because, the voices then told me something else, they said that if I decided to live, I would indeed see all they had shown me, and they would guild my hand to do these things, but there was one catch, if I came off that bridge, things would not change for me, not for a while. They told me that the next year would be the hardest year of my life, much harder than anything I had ever endured before. I was a bit surprised by that, I mean, consider for a moment a man is threatening suicide, and you tell him if he doesn’t jump things will only get worse. They told me I had a very clear choice, I could leave and be free, or, I could stay and see the time of my enemies demise, but there was no going back, only forward from that moment, there would be no equity, I would suffer immensely from that point forward for one full year. I pondered this by myself and in the end my mouth watered at the promise of that distant victory and I decided to live despite what might lay in store for me. It was a really odd time, one of the most strangest moments of my life, I felt drunk, I felt free, victory was mine, promised, by voices in my head, and I don’t know who these voices were, aliens or CIA or what, but I saw that supernatural vision of the sea below and I don’t think the CIA can do that. I