Echoes. Echoes. Echoes. They are echoes I hear everyday. Not to mention the direct action against me that was literally in front of my face

This really mostly somewhat didn't turn into the specific message that flashed into my mind. I can't recall where to find the specific reference I wanted originally to make, paused as I have the video.

So what I think is happening is this.

A cursory search revealed details that reminded me that I might have been making oblique references to a sleeping dream.

I am sitting here today trying to find specific references to that sleeping dream from long ago that I now still remember as I do still remember many other sleeping dreams from over the years.

I do not recall that particular sleeping dream because of its topic.

What I think is happening is that I am confusing myself because I deliberately did not make specific references to specific details.

I did not make specific references to details and I made only oblique references to details and my mind remembers now only the specific details I *wanted* to reference.

I remember many other sleeping dreams that consist of a great deal of other topics. The sleeping dream from the past I am trying to recall now was primarily about me seeing Phoebe sitting in a wheelchair and then she throws off her bikini top although my visualization of her is very very vague at that point. That reminds me now similar to how I wrote a decade ago about how my sleeping dreams seemed to be of words being read to my sleeping mind.

And there is the strong sense in my mind now just now again I wrote about this in my blog. Since I cannot recall specific details I am left with only the feeling that I wrote about how I was standing on a floor in a building and there was something similar to an atrium construction below where I could see her on floor below me. I would have sworn I wrote details about how my activities were associated with US CIA machinery that was some kind of communication device. These past few hours I have worked to construct this note, or less than a few hours, has made me think about that detail again and I think about how that device was some kind of rotary device. "Add WiFi" is the message this moment. Unrelated to that sleeping dream. Count it up. See for yourselves.

So anyway, I sort of lost interest in this post. I am up to episode 18 and I am thinking I might try to watch the final episode tonight but I'm not sure if I will or if I will make note of it here in this blog, which in the past has usually meant: I will.

I didn't even know what that stupid series was about until a few days ago. I watched the first episode back almost 4 years and it made me so angry I never gave any thought to it beyond that first episode. I looked back and I made some references to that first episode back about 1 year ago. The second episode establishes the series, that was soon ended. I was so angry about that first episode and I hated it so much that I never gave any thought into trying to even read more about it. Only a few days ago did I find out what it was about. That Ritter actor starring as the lead character still makes me think about Jim Shea. I started wondering about his wife Allison. The way I remember it I remember living a few weeks or days in their apartment in Greenville South Carolina in 1990 after I got out of the US Navy and I had started working with Jim at that job he referred me for at First Federal.

This note didn't really turn out how I wanted it to. I think I am posting it now simply because there is something I want to say.

Blogger.com indicates there are over 8600 posts on this blog right now. A flat-text I keep as an archive of those blog posts indicates my blog is over 218 megabytes. That file is text characters only. Over 218 MB of nothing but text characters. Gets difficult to impossible to find a specific post when the only words I can recall are 'Phoebe' and 'bikini'.

There are also a lot of other "character development" posts I have wanted to make about that television series but that I did not stop to document.

Even still as I work to create this post I find myself having a difficult time trying to recreate that initial burst of decisiveness that caused me to drop everything and make this note. Even the title feels wrong. I wrote that at almost the very beginning and much of this is content I had not even thought about at the time. Doesn't really matter. There is just a lot of content that while consistent with my original line of thought is not what I wanted originally and that is because I could not find what I wanted originally. And then I think about it again, and yes, that is just simply an earlier blog post I had crafted in my mind. There is an obvious logic to it I feel certain the US NSA would agree. I feel they would have been in agreement days ago. These last two or three sentences I didn't think to add until the very last, just seconds before I made the post.










http://www.seattlepi.com/news/article/Wash-DOL-issued-most-undercover-licenses-to-CIA-4438438.php

seattle pi


Wash. DOL issued most undercover licenses to CIA

Updated 8:49 am, Tuesday, April 16, 2013


OLYMPIA, Wash. (AP) — A Washington Department of Licensing program that supplied fake licenses for undercover officers issued the most fake IDs to the Central Intelligence Agency and Defense Department, the Kitsap Sun reported.

In response to a public records request, the department last month showed the newspaper and public radio's Northwest News Network a list of agencies issued confidential licenses since 2007. The CIA topped the list with 288, followed by the Defense Department with 198, then followed mostly by police agencies in the state, such as the Kitsap County sheriff's office and Bremerton Police Department, the Kitsap Sun (http://bit.ly/11a9OVy ) reported Monday.

But, when the department released the list Friday by email, it lumped together all federal law enforcement agencies without naming them, saying that's classified.

"A lot of information that was compiled should not have been discussed," DOL spokesman Brad Benfield said, citing a nondisclosure agreement some DOL employees signed with the U.S. government.

"We simply can't talk about it anymore without further putting ourselves in legal jeopardy," Benfield said Monday.

The category of all federal law enforcement agencies accounted for 595 licenses, or 53 percent of the 1,121 issued.

The CIA refused to comment to the Kitsap Sun. The Defense Department would "not characterize or otherwise discuss our participation in this program," spokesman Lt. Col. Tom Crosson said.

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service does use a few confidential licenses for undercover purposes," NCIS spokesman Ed Buice said. "Beyond that it would be counterproductive for us to comment in any greater detail."

The program was secret until the paper's public records request prompted the Department of Licensing to request legislation to protect officers from disclosure and setting out guidelines.

The bill quietly passed the Senate but raised questions in the House's Transportation Committee where Republican lawmakers Matt Shea, of Spokane Valley, and Jason Overstreet, of Lynden, were surprised to find no one knows for sure when or why the program began.

"The first and obvious question is why (has) the CIA asked for and received 288 Washington state identifications," Overstreet said. "It seems like a big number."

He has sought answers but hasn't been able to get them.

"I think that the public demands a response," Overstreet said. "Not classified information — that would compromise officer safety. But I think the DOL owes the public a response as to why they've been operating this program the way they have, outside of state law."

Overstreet and Shea have amended legislation to add safeguards. They said fake IDS should be used only for the duration of an undercover officer's covert assignment.

The bill now awaits a vote on the House floor.










http://www.e-reading.co.uk/bookreader.php/1016709/Clancy_-_the_Hunt_for_Red_October.html


The Hunt For Red October

Tom Clancy


Chapter 5.


Mannion looked at the paper tracks that Goodman was drawing to back up the computerized targeting process. "He's pretty good. Problem is, he thinks we work for him."

"Right now we are working for him." Jones was their eyes and ears, and Mancuso was damned glad to have him.

"Chuck?" Mancuso asked Lieutenant Goodman.

"Bearing still constant on all three contacts, sir." Which probably meant they were heading for the Dallas. It also meant that they could not develop the range data necessary for a fire control solution. Not that anyone wanted to shoot, but this was the point of the exercise.

"Pat, let's get some sea room. Move us about ten miles east," Mancuso ordered casually. There were two reasons for this. First, it would establish a base line from which to compute probable target range. Second, the deeper water would make for better acoustical conditions, opening up to them the distant sonar convergence zone. The captain studied the chart as his navigator gave the necessary orders, evaluating the tactical situation.

Bartolomeo Mancuso was the son of a barber who closed his shop in Cicero, Illinois, every fall to hunt deer on Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Bart had accompanied his father on these hunts, shot his first deer at the age of twelve and every year thereafter until entering the Naval Academy. He had never bothered after that. Since becoming an officer on nuclear submarines he had learned a much more diverting game. Now he hunted people.

Two hours later an alarm bell went off on the ELF radio in the sub's communications room. Like all nuclear submarines, the Dallas was trailing a lengthy wire antenna attuned to the extremely low-frequency transmitter in the central United States. The channel had a frustratingly narrow data band width. Unlike a TV channel, which transmitted thousands of bits of data per frame, thirty frames per second, the ELF radio passed on data slowly, about one character every thirty seconds. The duty radioman waited patiently while the information was recorded on tape. When the message was finished, he ran the tape at high speed and transcribed the message, handing it to the communications officer who was waiting with his code book.

The signal was actually not a code but a "one-time-pad" cipher. A book, published every six months and distributed to every nuclear submarine, was filled with randomly generated transpositions for each letter of the signal. Each scrambled three-letter group in this book corresponded to a preselected word or phrase in another book. Deciphering the message by hand took under three minutes, and when that was completed it was carried to the captain in the attack center.

the Hunt for Red October

COMSUBLANT--commander of the Submarine Force in the Atlantic--was Mancuso's big boss, Vice Admiral Vincent Gallery. The old man was evidently contemplating a reshuffling of his entire force, no minor affair. The next wake-up signal, AAA--encrypted, of course--would alert them to go to periscope-antenna depth to get more detailed instructions from SSIX, the submarine satellite information exchange, a geosynchronous communications satellite used exclusively by submarines.

The tactical situation was becoming clearer, though its strategic implications were beyond his ability to judge. The ten-mile move eastward had given them adequate range information for their initial three contacts and another Alfa which had turned up a few minutes later. The first of the contacts, Vic 6, was now within torpedo range. A Mark 48 was locked in on her, and there was no way that her skipper could know the Dallas was here. Vic 6 was a deer in his sights--but it wasn't hunting season.

Though not much faster than the Victors and Charlies, and ten knots slower than the smaller Alfas, the Dallas and her sisters could move almost silently at nearly twenty knots. This was a triumph of engineering and design, the product of decades of work. But moving without being detected was useful only if the hunter could at the same time detect his quarry. Sonars lost effectiveness as their carrier platform increased speed. The Dallas' BQQ-5 retained twenty percent effectiveness at twenty knots, nothing to cheer about. Submarines running at high speed from one point to another were blind and unable to harm anyone. As a result, the operating pattern of an attack submarine was much like that of a combat infantryman. With a rifleman it was called dash-and-cover; with a sub, sprint-and-drift. After detecting a target, a sub would race to a more advantageous position, stop to reacquire her prey, then dash again until a firing position had been achieved. The sub's quarry would be moving too, and if the submarine could gain position in front of it, she had then only to lie in wait like a great hunting cat to strike.

The submariner's trade required more than skill. It required instinct, and an artist's touch; monomaniacal confidence, and the aggressiveness of a professional boxer. Mancuso had all of these things. He had spent fifteen years learning his craft, watching a generation of commanders as a junior officer, listening carefully at the frequent round-table discussions which made submarining a very human profession, its lessons passed on by verbal tradition. Time on shore had been spent training in a variety of computerized simulators, attending seminars, comparing notes and ideas with his peers. Aboard surface ships and ASW aircraft he learned how the "enemy"--the surface sailors--played his own hunting game.

Submariners lived by a simple motto: There are two kinds of ships, submarines...and targets. What would Dallas be hunting? Mancuso wondered. Russian subs? Well, if that was the game and the Russians kept racing around like this, it ought to be easy enough. He and the Swiftsure had just bested a team of NATO ASW experts, men whose countries depended on their ability to keep the sea-lanes open. His boat and his crew were performing as well as any man could ask. In Jones he had one of the ten best sonar operators in the fleet. Mancuso was ready, whatever the game might be. As on the opening day of hunting season, outside considerations were dwindling away. He was becoming a weapon.










http://www.e-reading.co.uk/bookreader.php/1016709/Clancy_-_the_Hunt_for_Red_October.html


The Hunt For Red October

Tom Clancy


Chapter 14.

THE FOURTEENTH DAY


The Dallas

The Dallas was now in on the plan. Alerted by another ELF transmission, Mancuso had brought her to antenna depth briefly during the night. The lengthy EYES ONLY message had been decrypted by hand in his cabin. Decryption was not Mancuso's strong point. It took him an hour as Chambers conned the Dallas back to trail her contact. A crewman passing the captain's cabin heard a muted damn through the door. When Mancuso reappeared, his mouth couldn't keep from twitching into a smile. He was not a good card player either.










http://www.e-reading.co.uk/bookreader.php/1016709/Clancy_-_the_Hunt_for_Red_October.html


The Hunt For Red October

Tom Clancy


Chapter 14.

THE FOURTEENTH DAY


CIA Headquarters

Moore lifted his phone. "James, you and Bob get in here right now!"

"What is it, Arthur?" Greer asked a minute later.

"The latest from CARDINAL." Moore handed xeroxed copies of a message to both men. "How quick can we get word out?"

"That far out? Means a helicopter, a couple of hours at least. We have to get this out quicker than that," Greer urged.

"We can't endanger CARDINAL, period. Draw up a message and get the navy or air force to relay it by hand." Moore didn't like it, but he had no choice.

"It'll take too long!" Greer objected loudly.

"I like the boy, too, James. Talking about it doesn't help. Get moving."

Greer left the room cursing like the fifty-year sailor he was.










http://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-event&episode=s01e17


The Event

Cut Off the Head


Impressive, Mr.
Walker.
I think it's time we had a little talk.










http://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-event&episode=s01e17


The Event

Cut Off the Head


Vice President Jarvis, this is Dr. Lu.
She's the acupuncturist you requested.
Dr. Lu, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.
It's my pleasure to be of service to such an important man.
Those look sharp.
Very sharp, but you won't even feel it.
Quick and painless And the problem will be eliminated For good.
Hey, Jay, give me a minute to get dressed.










http://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-event&episode=s01e17


The Event

Cut Off the Head


No one trusts you.
And no one forgives you.
You have a year and a half left, so please, Raymond Just shut up and keep your head down.
Mills used soil frozen in the ice cores to help pinpoint the location of the weapon.
The shifts in mineral composition and desiccation led him to focus on a 1.
8 square kilometer region near the Dolgan Coast.
Thank you, Aaron.
We're close to finding it.
So close.
Mr.
Vice President.
I've thought about your proposal.
Good.
I love this country.
I know.
That's why I came to you.










"Earth 2"

"After the Thaw"

Sunday 2 April 1995

Episode 16 Season 1 DVD video:

00:03:50


Dr. Julia Heller: Hey. Careful, please. Amazing. Looks like the perfect specimen. An entire Terrian body frozen in place like that?

Walman: Probably from a distant glacier. Hey, you okay, Baines?

Baines: How long do you think it's been preserving in there like that?

Dr. Julia Heller: I won't know until I do a full bioscan, but judging from its position, it looks like it froze almost instantly, like cryogenic preservation, so it could be almost any age.

Walman: That shanking Grendler's been wailing all afternoon.

John Danziger: Okay, everybody clear. Walman, get in there and steady it. Let's get this piece of ice off the ground.

Alonzo Solace: What's his problem?

Walman: Okay, Danziger.

John Danziger: Step back. Ready?

Alonzo Solace: All right, go slow now. Easy. Easy. All right. It's looking good down here.

Walman: Nice and easy.

Alonzo Solace: Keep going.

Walman: Slow.

Alonzo Solace: Hey, hey. Hey, hey, hey!

Walman: Watch out!

Dr. Julia Heller: Shank!

John Danziger: Damn it, Julia. What did I tell you?

Walman: You okay?

John Danziger: That's enough. It's subzero. We got better things to do than to haul around this ice cube.

Dr. Julia Heller: What, are you suggesting we abandon it?

John Danziger: We burned out the trans-rover's winch. Let's just leave it and cut our losses, okay?

Dr. Julia Heller: Danziger, I can't ignore information about this planet. This is major. It's going to answer questions, possible disease immunities. We are here long term.

John Danziger: Yeah? Our food supply says different. We got two weeks.










"Earth 2"

"After the Thaw"

Sunday 2 April 1995

Episode 16 Season 1 DVD video:

00:08:45


Alonzo Solace: Do you think it died like that?

Dr. Julia Heller: Yeah, I think so.

Alonzo Solace: I know how it feels. Trapped. My first cold sleep, for some reason, I woke up in my capsule five days early. And I couldn't get back to sleep. And I couldn't get out. I was locked in there, half frozen, like a coffin. I never dreamt again.










"Earth 2"

"After the Thaw"

Sunday 2 April 1995

Episode 16 Season 1 DVD video:

00:38:20


The Elder: Oh, he wants you dead, because he knows you're the only one who can kill him.

Alonzo Solace: What are you talking about?

The Elder: I'm talking about you, Alonzo.

Alonzo Solace: How can I kill him? I don't even know what he is.

The Elder: I sensed it, the moment you entered. It's no accident you and the demon have come face-to-face.

Alonzo Solace: What?

The Elder: The Terrians tell me that your skills on the dream plane are stronger than any human they've ever known.

Alonzo Solace: Why can't the Terrians fight him?

The Elder: They lack aggression. It's not in their nature to fight one of their own.

Alonzo Solace: I still don't understand what this has to do with me.

The Elder: You must battle with the demon on the dreamscape. It's where he controls your friend, and it's where you must challenge him.

Alonzo Solace: Challenge him? How can I beat him? He'll kill me. He already tried that once when I was sleeping.

The Elder: But he didn't yet succeed.

Alonzo Solace: And if I can't?

The Elder: There's no more time. He's here.



- posted by H.V.O.M - Kerry Wayne Burgess 01:38 AM Pacific Time somewhere near Seattle Washington USA Sunday 08 June 2014