I am a prisoner of their criminal activity. I am a prisoner of "Scooter" Libby's criminal activities. I am a prisoner of all their criminal activities. What was it I sent in that email almost 3 years ago - "Mark this day in your calendars"? It was something like that. They knew precisely what I was talking about.
A press release from Microsoft dated 6/22/2000 had information about Bill Gates and Steve Ballmer introducing the .NET platform, which was prominent feature of later marketing and advertising initiatives. The date 6/22/2000 was 4 months, 1 week, 4 days, before 11/2/2000. I believe it was an 11/2 when I left Earth and a 4/14 when I returned.
That date 8/12/2004 was 5 months, 9 days, after 3/3/2004. I think she is one of my daughters. I am reluctant to talk about that theory because I don’t want any of them caught up in this craziness but I am starting to sense that is all old news. I have some clues that Microsoft-Corbis was secretly releasing details about my family for all those years, along with details about my covert military activities. Microsoft-Corbis also knew that in my symbolic "memories" that Thedia had one of these little white dogs for most of my youth and that its name was Taffy, which was symbolic of my return to Earth in April 1977. Her birthday, according to information on the internet, was 5 years, 0.9 months, after 1/21/76. There might also be something about my experiences as a POW in Vietnam too and I think my "memories" of Thedia being married to a Vietnam veteran actually represent my captivity in Vietnam. Microsoft-Corbis knows about all that and that is why Steve Ballmer started off his speech at that large gathering of employees of Microsoft, in 2003 I think, by making some comments about Prisoners Of War.
Tinkerbell (born October 31, 2002 in Athens, Greece) is the pet chihuahua of Paris Hilton. …On August 12, 2004 Tinkerbell went missing after Hilton's apartment was robbed, and a $5,000 reward was offered for her safe return.[1] She was found six days later.
The birthday of this domestic terrorist, an operative of Microsoft-Corbis, was 12/31/60, according to the article. That date of 12/31/60 was 95 weeks, 4 days, after 3/3/59. I found some other suspicious details about that guy a while back but this one I just found. As noted below, the Interstate 495 is referred to as the Capital Beltway and this terrorist was born 4 days, 95 weeks, after 3/3/59.
John Allen Muhammad (b. December 31, 1960), with his younger partner Lee Boyd Malvo, carried out the 2002 Beltway sniper attacks which resulted in the death of ten individuals.
The Beltway sniper attacks took place during three weeks of October 2002 in the Mid-Atlantic United States. Ten people were killed and three others critically injured by spree killers in and around Washington, D.C., in various locations throughout the Baltimore-Washington Metropolitan Area and along Interstate 95 in Virginia.
The Baltimore-Washington Metropolitan Area is a consolidated metropolitan area consisting of the overlapping labor market region of the cities of Washington, D.C. and Baltimore, Maryland. The region includes Northern Virginia, Central Maryland, and two counties in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia.
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Major highways
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Interstate 95
Interstate 395
Interstate 495 (Capital Beltway)
Interstate 695 (Baltimore Beltway)
This is what Microsoft is up to here in this country and they enlisted George W. Bush's help, along with corrupted officials in Congress, in order to permanently damage our system of checks and balances which ensure our Constitution remains effective.
An insurgency, or insurrection, is an armed uprising, or revolt against an established civil or political authority. Persons engaging in insurgency are called insurgents, and typically engage in regular or guerrilla combat against the armed forces of the established regime, or conduct sabotage and harassment in the land in order to undermine the government's position as leader.
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Insurgency is most commonly used to describe a movement's unlawfulness by virtue of not being authorized by or in accordance with the law.
This is why no one would tell me what was happening but yet they all knew something. For most of the past decade, they have been creating an environment of isolation to try to brainwash me. I was seriously sleep deprived in that Pioneer Square homeless shelter that I thought of as the gulag. They were more than willing to let me starve that time before I became homeless and there are plenty of other examples of abuse over the years. The only question has been about who was doing it. Now we know.
Brainwashing Techniques
In the late 1950s, psychologist Robert Jay Lifton studied former prisoners of Korean and Chinese war camps. He determined that they'd undergone a multistep process that began with attacks on the prisoner's sense of self and ended with what appeared to be a change in beliefs. Lifton ultimately defined a set of steps involved in the brainwashing cases he studied:
Assault on identity
Guilt
Self-betrayal
Breaking point
Leniency
Compulsion to confess
Channeling of guilt
Releasing of guilt
Progress and harmony
Final confession and rebirth
Each of these stages takes place in an environment of isolation, meaning all "normal" social reference points are unavailable, and mind-clouding techniques like sleep deprivation and malnutrition are typically part of the process. There is often the presence or constant threat of physical harm, which adds to the target's difficulty in thinking critically and independently.
We can roughly divide the process Lifton identified into three stages: breaking down the self, introducing the possibility of salvation, and rebuilding the self.
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Assault on identity: You are not who you think you are.
This is a systematic attack on a target's sense of self (also called his identity or ego) and his core belief system. The agent denies everything that makes the target who he is: "You are not a soldier." "You are not a man." "You are not defending freedom." The target is under constant attack for days, weeks or months, to the point that he becomes exhausted, confused and disoriented. In this state, his beliefs seem less solid.
They have definitely been trying to do this all these years; I just haven't been falling for it because I know how this stuff works but it is why they have kept me isolated all these years and away from home.
Once the subject is disoriented and drowning in guilt, the agent forces him (either with the threat of physical harm or of continuance of the mental attack) to denounce his family, friends and peers who share the same "wrong" belief system that he holds. This betrayal of his own beliefs and of people he feels a sense of loyalty to increases the shame and loss of identity the target is already experiencing.
Abstract : The experience of Vietnam era prisoners of war provides valuable lessons for future POWs. These lessons offer ways and means to resist exploitation and torture. Examples are numerous, and suggest ways to resist and cope with torture, near starvation, and exploitation. Religious beliefs, moral values, and faith in one's fellow prisoners and country are key elements that influence POW survival. Strong bodies and active, creative minds enabled POWs to overcome primitive living conditions and barbaric treatment. The Code of Conduct provided POWs available guide for their behavior; as POW's they knew what behavior was expected. A strong POW chain of command influenced compliance and understanding of articles of the Code of Conduct and tailored requirements to fit the situation. A strong chain of command can reduce enemy violations of international laws. Communications are pivotal to POW accountability. The ability of future POWs to survive captivity can be enhanced with knowledge and understanding of ordeals encountered by American POWs in Vietnam.
I have written before about how Admiral Stockdale’s 68th birthday seems to be encoded cleverly into my DD-214 as part of my cover identity, as also the significance of why his 68th.
Vice Admiral James Bond Stockdale (December 23, 1923 – July 5, 2005) was one of the most highly decorated officers in the history of the United States Navy. Shot down over enemy territory in 1965, Stockdale was the highest ranking naval officer held as a prisoner of war in Vietnam. He was released in 1973.
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In a book by Jim Collins called Good To Great, Collins relates how Stockdale described his coping strategy during his eight years in the Vietnamese POW camp.[1]
"I never lost faith in the end of the story, I never doubted not only that I would get out, but also that I would prevail in the end and turn the experience into the defining event of my life, which, in retrospect, I would not trade."
When Collins asked who didn't make it out, Stockdale replied:
"Oh, that’s easy, the optimists. Oh, they were the ones who said, 'We're going to be out by Christmas.' And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they'd say, 'We're going to be out by Easter.' And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart."
I don’t know how I knew him, but I believe it is possible that I knew him because I was a POW too in Vietnam. I wrote a lot of stuff like this in my journal and it wasn’t until 5/9/06 that I even began to consider that my real life is much different than I was consciously aware. There is also a complex message to this in that I am not a POW - or at least, if I am a POW, then we have some big problems within our government. I seem to be the one always at the forefront of those problems.
JOURNAL ARCHIVE: Maybe tomorrow Fri, 2/17/06 8:20 PM
Another day of wasted optimism that they will stop tormenting me today. Maybe tomorrow.
JOURNAL ARCHIVE: homeless veteran of microsoft
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Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Maybe tomorrow.
Nothing today. Maybe I'll hear something tomorrow.
Epic poetry agrees with Tragedy in so far as it is an imitation in verse of characters of a higher type. They differ, in that Epic poetry admits but one kind of metre, and is narrative in form. They differ, again, in their length: for Tragedy endeavours, as far as possible, to confine itself to a single revolution of the sun, or but slightly to exceed this limit; whereas the Epic action has no limits of time.
The Poetics - Aristotle
Shortly after graduating, Stockdale reported to Pensacola, Florida, for flight training. In 1954, Stockdale was accepted into the Test Pilot School at Patuxent River, Maryland. Among his classmates there was John Glenn. Stockdale was always interested in philosophy and returned to Stanford University to continue his education in 1960. He was awarded a master's degree two years later. He shone so much in academics, his superiors urged him to get a doctorate and become an academic. Stockdale preferred the life of a fighter pilot, but later credited philosophy with helping him cope as a prisoner of war.
Prisoners of War: A Story of Four American Soldiers
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I picked up stuff and eat, you’d shudder. It would make you vomit But I knew that if I didn’t, I was gonna die, you know? I even dug out potato peelings out of a manure pile and then took ‘em in the place and everybody had a little fire going and we’d take a tin can and put the potato peelings in and kind of heat ‘em up, you know? And eat ‘em. And they come right off from a stinking manure pile. Nobody knows what starving to death is, unless you were starving, ‘cause you say, “Oh, I wouldn’t eat that for nothing ” Well, you will. Women was nothing on your mind Nobody ever thought of women ‘cause your body wouldn’t, wasn’t up to it, anyway. Cigarettes and food was all you thought about. I had one of my men, he just give up. He was from a rich family and he never wanted for nothing, ‘cause I had met his father and mother, they’d come to Fort Benning and he introduced me to them. And you could tell how he was brought up ‘cause his mother was cuddling him all the time. And, well, of course, the mother loved the kid, you know? But he didn’t have enough hard time in him to cope with it. He’d rather die, as to cope with it. And I’d go out on work details and I’d steal, every chance I got, I’d steal something that I could get my hands on and I’d bring it back to him. And I figured maybe that’d entice him to eat, but he wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. I took a chance of getting shot for stealing, ‘cause if they ever catch you with something that you’re not supposed to have, they don’t ask no questions, they just push you to the side and shoot you. So, but no matter what I did, it didn’t—I tried to make him mad. I called him a coward, and I did everything to him to make him, you know, want to fight back, but it didn’t work. He just died. He was a good kid, too.
JOURNAL ARCHIVE: Sun, 2/19/06 10:32
I don't remember when I first read this. But it sure resonates with me. It is even ironic the part about May. If I'm not mistaken, it was May 31 when I gave up my apartment. I want to sit down and try to write out as much of a timeline after that as possible, but I can't remember a lot of the details, although I knew all along that my tormentors knew exactly what I was doing and where I was located every minute of every one of those days. And so in this message below, he is talking basically about how people can talk about being your friend, but it is when the world throws you down into some really dark place, it is your friends that are going to be there with you. And I remember those first 9 days I was starving and I couldn't believe not only were they still oppressing me with their cage, but that no one even attempted to leave any food on my doorstep or something like that. In a lot of ways, it really hasn't been any different than that time I was standing on the pier in July of 1988, with a new lesson on loneliness. I think that was a defining moment of misery. People have undoubtedly suffered more, but this all was needless. It was stupid. I was a hostage of sociopaths. I know sure as hell if I listened to someone starving for 9 days, I would have done something, anything. No one did anything. But listen. And they kept listening. For that one month after I ran out of money, because my bank account had been frozen I assume in anticipation of eviction, I went over half that month without eating anything. It actually wouldn't have been that big a deal to fast that long. It was painful, but if my intention had been to fast, it would have been bearable. But this wasn't a fast. I had no idea that it was going to end. I hoped it would. I hoped someone would do something other than sit there and listen to me starving while they were probably eating their meals. I know with absolute certainty that if I had not sent that message to Senator Murray office, I would be dead right now. After 9 days, I decided to go through with my plans to jump off that bridge near Shelton. I picked it because it was something like 420 feet and would definitely be fatal. And it was out in the middle of nowhere so I knew no one would be around to get in my way. So I had about two dollars left. I had been keeping it to buy a little bit of food, enough to keep me from passing out as I drove down there, I figured it was about 100 miles away. I had 3/8's of a tank of gas and I figured I was probably going to have to walk the last 20 miles or so. This was definitly going to be a one-way trip unless these bastards listening to me stood up and quit tormenting me. So I left and started out and I stopped at a QFC in Kent on the way to pick up whatever food I could get for two dollars and then head out for the High Steel Bridge. But for some reason, I decided to try my ATM card to see if I could get some money, I had about 300 dollars left. It wasn't enough to pay my bills, but at least it would buy me some more time. And it worked. I was able to make a withdrawl and I know certainly that that change saved my life. I bought some food and kept driving on my way to Shelton, at least now I wouldn't be in such misery and I would be able to buy some gas to drive the whole way there. But as I drove a few miles, the interstate traffice was slowed down due to construction and I had some time to eat the fruit I had bought. After a little while, I turned around and headed back to my apartment. I bought some more food and hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.]
http://www.online-literature.com/short.php/333
As it fell upon a dayIn the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,
Trees did grow, and plants did spring;
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone:
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity:
'Fie, fie, fie,' now would she cry;
'Tereu, tereu!' by and by;
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs, so lively shown,
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain!
None takes pity on thy pain:
Senseless trees they cannot hear thee;
Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:
King Pandion he is dead;
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle
Fortune smiled,
Thou and I were both beguiled.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easy, like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find:
Every man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call,
And with such-like flattering,
'Pity but he were a king;
'If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have at commandement:
But if Fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown
They that fawn'd on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.
JOURNAL ARCHIVE: homeless veteran of microsoft
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Thursday, September 08, 2005
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Nothing today.
Another day of trying to breathe through this block of carbonite. Maybe they'll unfreeze me tomorrow.
http://www.starwars.com/databank/technology/carbonfreezingchamber/?id=eu
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The freezing of living subjects in carbonite has long been a form of torture. The evil Krath that conquered the Empress Teta system thousands of years ago placed the ruling class in carbon-freeze after their coup. The process is excruciating, and although the subject undergoes a form of stasis hibernation, there is evidence that they still experience consciousness while frozen.
