Lessons learned from my journey with Dennis

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

From 1997 to 2002 were my years of learning to be scholarly in my studies and writing.  It was a completely amateur effort, with no training.  My first two essays of my site as it stands today were the Columbus and fluoride essays, after losing my very first essay draft on Julian’s Simon’s stable of soul-souled scientists and scholars due to multiple computer failures and my own ignorance and foolishness.  Learning the hard way is expensive!  None of those essays changed greatly from what I originally wrote, at least fact-wise, but I had a long way to go with my writing style.  I had helpful critical comments from pals, one of whom was a professional who later doubted that I wrote my later work, as it had improved so much, especially after I hired an editor.  I have also been a professional technical writer since 2003, when I resumed my career after publishing my site.  Writing every day helps.  

Those essays were the first on that theme of what isn’t.  Columbus certainly was not some hero to be worshipped, with a national holiday in his name (and he was even up for sainthood at one time).  Fluoride is not some dental panacea, and Simon’s collection of scientists/scholars demonstrated how corrupting conflicts of interest are.  The Lies That I Was Raised With essay came soon after them, as I recall.  That essay has also changed very little since I originally wrote it.  I asked Uncle Ed for permission for those images from Lies of Our Times, and Ed was happy that I did it.  Whenever I asked people such as Ed, Howard Zinn, or Peter Ward for permission to publish part of their work, they certainly lived up to my impression of them as great human beings.  There are not many like them on Earth today.

More often, my studies discovered that the people held up to me as heroes and saints were largely mass-murdering thieves and genocidists.  George Washington’s plan to steal North America from the Indians somehow eluded his biographers.  The pious padre whom my grade school was named after was sainted last year.  He was the Hitler of California, building a string of concentration camps called missions, which completely exterminated the coastal Indians who lived where the missions were built, but all that I was taught was some heavenly tale of his selfless work of “civilizing” the natives.  The process exterminated them.  Hitler actually formulated his plans for Eastern Europe from the Anglo-American experience in North America: invade and steal the land while annihilating its inhabitants.  Hitler’s crime was doing it to white people.  Hitler became history’s greatest monster, while those that he emulated are heroes and saints, with national holidays in their names.  The hypocrisy of the USA’s social managers is mind-boggling (Uncle Ed used “chutzpa” to describe their work), but it is the standard in-group/out-group treatment that is literally older than humanity.  Those kinds of behaviors are what helped lead to Brian’s question of whether humanity is really a sentient species.  When I first heard him say it in 2001, I sadly understood.

My first hint that the glory stories of World War II might be a little awry was reading an article in Atlantic Magazine (which my wife’s godmother subscribed her to), written by Paul Fussell, back in 1990 (this article is an earlier one).  I soon obtained Wartime and Eugene Sledge’s memoir.  They were sobering works, but I was ready for them.  I spent the summer of 1999 performing the study and writing for my war essay, the year after Saving Private Ryan came out, and Uncle Howard helped me understand.  The year after I published that essay, Michael Zezima published his rebuttal to Saving Private Ryan.  I contacted him, and he was amazed at how similar our work was.

The study for my war essay was the single most draining experience of my scholarly career.  I had been trying to stop drinking since 1991, without much success.  A month here, three months there, but then it was back to the bottle.  My pattern that summer of studying World War II and the Jewish Holocaust was to study and write for eight hours or so, and then drink between six and nine beers.  My behavior during those days damaged my marriage, and I could not blame my wife for it.  A year later, I finally kicked the bottle, once and for all.  I triumphed just as my monster of a midlife crisis began.  If I had been drinking during my midlife crisis, I might not be alive today.

I would study wars and genocides very carefully, especially ones that your culture had a hand in.  I hardly know an American who is strong enough to honestly do it.  Few Americans know or care how many millions of people that our imperial war machine has murdered in the past generation, mostly children, as we call ourselves a great humanitarian nation.  When people such as Uncles Noam and Ed laid bare our imperial propaganda, their works were destroyed or their careers were ruined.  That is how imperial conceits are maintained, and the public is only too happy to oblige, as long as buying into the lies keep their bellies full.  

I learned that personal integrity is the world’s scarcest commodity back in 1988, but I still had a lot to learn.  When I began seeing the depth of the lies that I had been fed, I began mentioning it to those around me, but cautiously.  I had witnessed a generation earlier how Americans reacted to the idea that their diets were atrocious, so when I began telling some people about the media analysis I was studying, such as Unreliable Sources, nobody wanted to hear about it, and if I had pressed it, people were going to get hostile, as their cognitive dissonance would spur them to wipe out the source of their dissonance.  The Great Herd does not like its self-serving illusions challenged, even when they face certain death if they don’t question their conditioning.  It was hard to believe at first, but I now accept it as normal, which is another reason why the mass movement approach to free energy does not have a prayer.  Before encountering Uncle Bucky, I could not have articulated very well what the point of my work was, or how it related to free energy, but it is clear to me today, and became ever-clearer as I began the studies in 2003 that led to writing my big essay a decade later.

The only people who will be useful for my effort have to relinquish all in-group ideologies, including the ones that see the elites as bad guys.  Godzilla stepped on me, and hard, but I wish him no ill will.  I seek to put him out to pasture, however. 

There is much more to come about my scholar’s journey from 1997 to 2002.  

Best,

Wade

Edited January 7, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

After Judi Bari survived a murder attempt and was crippled (and the FBI prosecuted her for surviving a murder attempt, surreally), she wrote instead of organized and protested, and said, “Those who can’t do, write.”  I see my work kind of like that, but it has its place.  My biggest learning experiences were in the real world, with my mystical awakening, days in LA, stints with Dennis and Brian, seeing the medical racket with my own eyes, etc.  But I have had enough Indiana Jones-ing for one lifetime, and seek the quiet life anymore.

Most of my essays written for the 2002 version of my site have a story behind them, and I’ll tell them in coming posts.  I’ll start with my public and other Internet interaction.  Free energy is big stuff, to put it mildly.  Not only will it be the biggest event in the human journey, it will end the world as we know it, as the previous Epochal Events did.  If people do not react in denial or fear, they go crazy with greed, megalomania, and the like.  I have seen it all in the past 30 years (it was 30 years ago this month when I became Dennis’s partner; oh, where does a life go?), as I have fielded thousands of reactions to the idea of free energy.  In 2007, I finally decided to organize those reactions in this table, and I have not seen anything in the past decade that did not nicely fit into one of those categories.

My thread at Avalon is a mere sampler, and Bill and friends keep the trolls at bay.  More typical of my public interaction was the xxxxx swarm at another forum that eventually saw me essentially booted out, or my experience at this forum, when I decided to interact with the public again.  I had a presence at a New Age forum, which had a section devoted to my work, like at here, which the forum’s owner completely erased soon after Mr. Skeptic arrived.  Mr. Skeptic stalked me on the Internet for a decade, as you can see here.  Anywhere that I appeared on the Internet would soon receive a visit from Mr. Skeptic, sometimes on the same day, as he heaved a disinformation bomb at me, or he privately hurled it to those who promoted my work, which often soured our relationship.  He had to be very busy, stalking me like that, which provided more evidence that he was a professional, not some free-lancing disinformation specialist.  It was disheartening how easily he gulled big names in the free energy field with his affable skeptic charade.  Naïveté is no crime, and everybody that I most respected in the free energy milieu began their journeys that way, but people in thrall to naïveté won’t last long on the free energy path.  Either they will grow out of their naïveté or get devoured by the milieu.  

When Brian toured the world, speaking at conferences and the like, talking up free energy, he had his own professional stalker who would arrive and harry Brian.  It was like what Dennis experienced with Bill the BPA Hit Man.  Brian had his life shortened, courtesy of the American military, when he hosted a UFO conference back in his days of getting his feet wet in the milieu.  Putting on free energy conferences is suicidal today.  

From 1996 to 2002, in the days of innocence on the Internet, I had my email address on every page of my site.  I took on all comers during those years.  I met quite a few of my cyberpals that way, but also I had to field attacks from the public.  In those days, people were usually not anonymous cowards like they are today, and a non-negotiable policy for my effort is no anonymity.  Anonymous cowards are not going to get anything done of importance.  Being real people is less than 1% of what it will take for the choir to make a dent.  But after 9/11, the USA lost its collective sanity.  The attacks that I received became increasingly vicious and irrational, and were almost always made by anonymous cowards.  In early 2002, I finally decided that it was not worth it anymore to interact directly with the public, and I only interact in semi-public forums such as Avalon, or my own, which I control.

Dealing with trolls and assailants from the public is bad enough, or attacks from officialdom, but the worst came from my social circles.  For even the least intelligent among us, it does not take long to glimpse free energy’s magnitude, and when those around me saw what I was chasing after, their reactions could be extreme.  Some tried to help, but usually from their egos.  Many attacked me or ceased contact with me, and those closest to me knew how to hit me where it hurt.  That was the worst part of my journey, by far.  The attacks from a former girlfriend were only a gentle preview of what was coming, and by the time I heard that my mother had made a scrapbook of her employer’s libelous articles on us, and took it on tour to my investors, friends, and family, telling them the story of her son the criminal, it did not even hurt anymore.  When I say that proselytizing to one’s social circles about free energy is dangerous, I did not just come up with it one day, off the top of my head.  I learned that one the hard way, and will get into some of the details of the attacks, for the first time publicly, to drive the point home.  What I experienced was not unusual, I am sorry to report.  When I traded notes with fellow travelers and related how my social circles reacted, the response was usually along the lines of: “Welcome to the club.”

Best,

Wade

Edited January 8, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Malcolm Ward]

Have you seen this re free energy Wade.

 

COLD FUSION: Wendelstein 7X star-machine PROVES the dream of limitless FREE energy

A COLD fusion machine aimed at creating limitless supplies of energy from a few litres of seawater has been fired-up and is working exactly as the designers hoped.

Source:

 

http://www.express.co.uk/life-style/science-technology/751174/Wendelstein-7-X-reactor-machine-creates-endless-supplies-energy-seawater

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

This week will likely be short ones, as I work long hours at my day job.  

I have written some in the past on my relationship with Ralph McGehee.  Ralph was like Smedley Butler, Rodney Stich, Gary Wean, or Mr. Mentor, in that he found out about the evils of the American system by working in it.  My discovery of the worthlessness of my profession was mild compared to what they came to understand.  Mr. Mentor did not speak out publicly, but those others did, and they generally paid dearly for it.  Ralph sent me a statement to publish when the FBI’s harassment became so great that Ralph dared not leave his house.  Stich had his life wrecked by the gangster judges in California, who tried to murder Gary.  Those over-grown Boy Scouts could not keep silent in the face of evil, and would all be called whistleblowers today.  Crucifying whistleblowers is an American pastime, with the festivities led by American presidents anymore.  

While Langley is filled with zombies who count their days to retirement in quiet desperation, drinking themselves into a stupor each night, but Ralph could not do that.  He did shuffle along with the zombies in his last years at the CIA, but it was only for show, as he performed the studies at Langley that allowed him to write his book.

For me, this bogus Soviet “hacking” meme, with the “intelligence” agencies briefing the sitting president is ironic.  Ralph never once saw the CIA tell the truth to Congress.  Instead came a steady stream of lies.  Ralph worked for William Colby, and when he saw Colby testifying at the Church Committee hearings, he knew that Colby was lying, but Colby was fired by the sitting president because he seemed too candid publicly.   Colby was probably taken out by this own, and if Greer’s reporting is relevant (and here), it was because Colby might have been about to leak something far more impactful than the truth.  Orwell’s nightmare writings only hint at the truth of how it really works.  

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Thanks Malcolm:

I regard efforts like that, such as that Lockheed truckload fusion reactor, to be part of an effort to release clean energy under the capitalist model, in which each unit costs $1 billion.  I know of far better ways to go.  But the Global Controllers will no longer sit astride the planet if it goes that way, so we see these kinds of projects.  I can actually live with that power play, as it can halt the destruction of the biosphere, and long-term, the Global Controllers will not be able to maintain control.  That is certainly one way that it could go.  What Sparky Sweet had is a direction that TPTB have forbidden for generations.  Then free energy machines could be made for a few bucks, and that will be the end of capitalism and most aspects of our industrial world, as a new Epoch will be ushered in.  That is what the global elites are most worried about.  

That particular one has the virtue of being cold fusion, which was widely pilloried in the 1980s, but what is most important, as far as the people in charge go, is that any commercial models go for $1 billion a pop or so.  But if this project ever seems to become very threatening, if it gets that far along, it will get quietly subsumed into the black project world, and you won’t hear any more about it.  That is a common fate, such as when electrogravity research went black in the 1950s.  My friend saw the fruit of that research many years ago, as has Greer.  

Best,

Wade

Edited January 9, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

Not much time this morning, and this will be another current events post.  As Obama leaves office, there seems to be a very concerted effort to sour things with Russia before Trump takes office.  There is a deliberately provocative troop deployment taking place right now.

Washington Post led the way with its McCarthyite reporting, and in a stunning turnaround, now wants to retire the very term that it was so instrumental in establishing: fake news.  In Orwellian fashion, Washington Post did not even acknowledge its role in the phenomenon, acting like it was above the fray.  Washington Post has published outright disinformation articles about Russia lately.  The State Department recently defended the fact that there has been no evidence published on the Russian “hacking” allegations, and now China gets into the act regarding American accusations that are evidence-free.  

Back in my home town, I got both barrels of how the media can make it up as it goes.  When I moved away, just as the war drums were beating for Iraq, I also began my media studies.  The lies that the American media tells about foreign events can be far more spectacular, and often are pure fantasy when they are not deliberately lying.  So, what is happening today is not unusual.  Any American whose head is not in the sand should know that the CIA is a cloak-and-dagger operation that deliberately lies to the American people, and it is hilarious that Obama is complaining that the American people trust Putin more than the CIA.  The crazy part is that the Russian media is more reliable in its reporting than the American media.  Russia Today has many people on its show that will never be on the American media, such as Uncle Noam.  You can see Noam on Democracy Now!, but that is about as close to the MSM as it gets in the USA.  Noam recently talked about a blatant instance of NPR censoring him.  

These lessons learned posts help develop the background for how I view things such as the American media, and what is happening today is one of the more extreme recent manifestations of how the media manipulates the public.  I was recently asked about Putin by somebody close to me, and my reply was that the fact that I was even being asked about him shows the power of the American propaganda system.  I recall one observer saying long ago that the American media may not tell us what to think, but it does tell us what to think about.  

Best,

Wade

Edited January 10, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

On current events, the Trump/Russia saga just got more bizarre.  Time will tell, but this smells like the British “dossier” on Iraq that was a mishmash of a plagiarized college paper and other fantasy.  So goes the “intelligence” field.  Strange times.

Back to my lessons learned.  I can’t recall if my medical racket essay was written before or after 2000, but I lean toward it first being drafted in 1998-1999.  The genesis of it was when I was 12 and my family went “health nut” and my father reversed the hardening of his arteries, which medical dogma declared “impossible” until quite recently.  Sometimes I think about what my “friends” have been up to in manipulating my life’s journey.  I left Southern California twice, vowing to never return, and there I was, driving to LA while Dennis was in jail, and getting a job at a company that the medical racket tried to wipe out just after I got there.  I don’t know of anybody else, nor have I heard of anybody else, who worked at companies that were attacked by both the energy and medical rackets.  The lab had deep enough pockets to survive the attacks, but the lab’s owner soon sold out to a Fortune 500 company and retired.  He had experienced enough of that.

So, when I began my studies in 1990 in Ohio, I was ready for what I found, first with books on Naessens and Rife, and I soon discovered Ralph Hovnanian’s Medical Dark Ages, to find out, among other revelations, that the booklet that saved my father’s life was banned in the USA, The Land of the Free.  About 100 pages into my medical racket essay, the lightbulb finally went on for my editor, as she saw how similar the energy and medical rackets were.  It was an “aha” moment for her, when she made her personal paradigm shift.

My fluoride essay was a prelude to my medical racket essay, and I wrote it around 1997-1998.  I first heard about water treatment issues from Paul Bragg.  So, he gets credit for that, as well as introducing me to a fasting regimen.  A decade later, my dentist wrote a fluoridation paper that was very similar to my fluoride essay.

I still only know one person who tried an alternative cancer treatment.  I never even volunteer alternative health information anymore, unless the person has expressed an interest to me.

While knowing about all the death and suffering meted out by Western medicine is not easy, it was one of the less harrowing areas for me to write about.  Far harder to stomach were the many genocides inflicted by the West on the world’s indigenous peoples, which rebounded in World War II when Hitler took a page from his imperial rivals and did it to white people.  Those genocides continue to this day, primarily inflicted or abetted by my great nation, and I can hardly find an American who knows or cares, which is in keeping with my life’s primary lesson.  That egocentric ceding of authority to others is what makes humanity such an obedient herd of lemmings, as humanity races toward it collective death today, while Godzilla formulates his contingency plans for survival.  

I found that the same basic principles of awakening apply to any field.  You first have to care, and if you chase your heart far enough, you will awaken.  That awakened state can then be used in all areas of your life.  It enabled me to produce my comprehensive work.

Best,

Wade

Edited January 11, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

Regarding my original version of today’s site, published in 2002, its longest essay was my American Empire essay.  Only my big essay is larger.  I suppose that its genesis was my first stint with Dennis, when my illusions about my society were harshly stripped away.  I got to see Dennis go from “the people really care,” at the beginning, to “almost nobody cares” a decade later, and nearly two decades after that, he admitted that his allies hurt him more than his enemies did.  I discovered that literal gangsters ran the county where I was raised, and the county courthouse, where I had my life’s pivotal moment, was just down the road from the neighborhood where I was raised.  When I began my media studies, the war drums were beating for Iraq, which began a series of eye-openers for me that lasted for about three years.  I read Howard Zinn’s account of Columbus’s heroic feat, not long before I encountered David Stannard’s American Holocaust, and then it was nearly a decade of continual study of my great nation and its development, including Ward Churchill’s magnum opus, A Little Matter of Genocide, which he lost his career over, similar to Dennis’s being imprisoned for not filing a form.  The Father of our Country, whom my home state is named after, as well as my nation’s capital, was just another mass-murdering thief and America’s richest man, partly from those thefts.  The pious friar whom my grade school was named after, who was sainted in 2015, was a genocidist.  Over and over, the shining heroes held up to me were little more than thieves and murderers.  Such are the icons of nationalist ideologies.

When I studied for my big essay, the political-economic, even Epochal, aspects of my nation became ever clearer.  The English invasion was a relatively late event, after the Spanish had the Western Hemisphere largely to themselves for a century.  The English rode the wave of a rising Europe and reluctantly turned to coal for its energy, as the British Isles had been completely deforested.  Tapping the energy of coal, for smelting iron and powering machines, was the key initial development of the Industrial Revolution.  Without that, the rest could not have happened.  So, a rising England, with its “surplus population” of dispossessed peasants, stumbled into a continent that was almost wholly unexploited, inhabited by peoples still at the horticultural and hunter-gatherer phases of the human journey.  Hunter-gatherers lived in the Second Epoch, with minimal impacts on the lands, and horticultural peoples also had modest impacts.  The peoples of the Eastern Woodlands largely lived in matrilineal horticultural societies, which had not been seen in the Old World for millennia and was unheard of in Europe, who lived in societies far freer than anything that Europe was familiar with.  The mound-building Mississippian culture was the political-economic equivalent of pre-state Fertile Crescent agrarian societies, and the forests and soils of North America were largely intact when Europe invaded.

When the Industrial Revolution, phase two began, with oil and electricity, the USA was at the forefront of it, as Americans quickly became history’s richest and most powerful people.  No animal likes being coerced, and each Epoch of the human journey became more humane than the one that preceded it, as humanity’s energy surplus increased.  The USA rode the wave of industrialization and a continent that had yet to be plundered of its Third and Fourth Epoch energy sources, but the USA pretended that it invented freedom, as it stole the continent and annihilated its inhabitants while becoming an imperial juggernaut in the process.  But the USA also pretends that it is not an empire, although a presidential advisor candidly admitted it on the heels of a recent genocidal imperial foray, justified with lies, as usual.

I wrote a ten-page essay in 1998, as Clinton bombed Iraq, which could be seen as prelude to my American Empire essay.  If you had asked me what I was doing, writing my American Empire essay, back in 2000, I would have likely answered with something like, “To help shatter the illusions of American nationalism.”  Today, I see it as helping Americans shake one of their most pernicious in-group ideologies, and to caution to anybody who thinks that the USA is some shining beacon of goodness.  As Einstein said, nationalism is an infantile disease.  When people wave the flag, their brains shut down and primal instincts take over.  Such people are almost effortlessly stampeded to their doom.  As I see it today, my American Empire essay is an exercise in helping cultivate sentience, which is sorely lacking among the American people.  But that essay can be generalized for any in-group, as exposing a series of conceits, lies really, which inculcate and enforce in-group ideologies.  As Jesus said, love the enemy.  I have witnessed the most brainless reactions to my work over the years, and mostly from people defending their American in-group from the affront of my work, and my American Empire essay is the essence of that challenge, along with my Lies that I was Raised With essay.  My “peers” usually blow a fuse only a few pages into my work, such as this section of it.  Their meltdowns can be something to behold, but that is not my intention.  I seek to engage the awake and the awakening, not wake the sleeping.  They won’t awaken with my writings.  

Best,

Wade

Edited January 13, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

When that voice spoke up for the first time, I left the path of my science studies.  I suppose that I began them again in Boston, when I began to understand how the heat pump worked, while Dennis began talking about free energy.  Scientific heavyweights soon got involved, and I went back to accounting and helping run the business.  I resumed my science studies in early 1989, to help prepare any expert witnesses that we might line up.  I recall reading the classic Clark biography of Einstein in 1989, but it was not until I moved to Ohio and begin hitting the books, studying patents, thermodynamics, the Michelson-Morley experiment, and the like, that I really resumed my scientific studies.  I met Brian in 1991 at a new science conference, but until 2003, I would call my studying efforts more scholarly than scientific.  I was learning the scholar’s/historian’s craft more than the scientist’s in those days.

I began studying the “skeptics” in the early 1990s, and in 1995, I stumbled into the Velikovsky issue with this book, while on the trail of Carl Sagan’s debunking work.  I have been on the fringes of the Velikovsky issue ever since.  For several years, I read the salvos fly between Velikovsky’s supporters and critics, and I knew that getting to the bottom of Velikovsky’s multidisciplinary hypothesis would take many years of study.  After publishing my 2002 version of my site, I stated to my circles that resuming my science and math studies was high on my wish list, with Velikovsky’s hypothesis in mind, and I had hoped to take college classes in my “spare” time.  When I resumed my career in 2003, however, I worked 60-70 hour weeks for most of the year, for the next decade.  So, beginning with Uncle Bucky and the Peak Oilers, I resumed my scientific studies in earnest, but largely through popularized works, while I wrestled with my monster of a midlife crisis.  I did not perform my studies with Velikovsky’s hypothesis in mind, but my studies took me into the rudiments of astronomy, geology, archeology, dating sciences, and many other disciplines, which Velikovsky tried his hand at for formulating his hypothesis.  In early 2014, as I was writing my big essay and had occasion to write about Velikovsky, related to the megafauna extinctions, I sat back and critically thought about his hypothesis, in light of what I had learned during the previous decade, and I could not think of any part of his hypothesis that stood up when compared against the latest scientific findings.  

The idea of Venus’s erupting from Jupiter a few millennia ago is ludicrous, as is the idea that Mars had a recent near-miss with Earth.  The idea that the megafauna were wiped out by celestial events is far more untenable than the climate change hypothesis, which I don’t buy at all.  Velikovsky’s literal interpretations of Sumerian cuneiform are not taken seriously by any Sumerian scholar, and Sitchin did the same thing, with his literalist interpretations of humanity’s first writings.  Like the Epic of Gilgamesh, early literary tales were largely fantasy, with some historical truth in them, similar to what became the Old Testament.  Literalist interpretations of ancient manuscripts are shaky ways to formulate scientific hypotheses.  No need to derive wild celestial explanations for Biblical events that likely never even happened, such as the Exodus.  As I finished my big essay, when I thought back to Velikovsky’s hypothesis, I discarded it as one of the many rabbit holes that I explored during my scholar’s journey.  

The only area where I will give Velikovsky credit today is invoking catastrophic hypotheses when uniformitarian theory was a dogma.  Velikovsky died only a few years before a revival of catastrophic theory in the wake of the bolide hypothesis for the dinosaurs’ demise.  Mass extinctions finally became a respectable study in English-speaking nations, overturning a century of Darwinian dogma, and some scientists got carried away with using celestial events to explain mass extinctions.  

My view today is that Sagan’s sloppy and scurrilous attack on Velikovsky’s hypothesis revived interest in Velikovsky’s work, kind of unfairly.  I think that the reception of Velikovsky’s hypothesis was scandalous by many influential scientists, but that did not make Velikovsky right.  Scientific hypotheses die all the time at the hands of new facts, as Einstein noted, and long-discarded scientific ideas have often been revived after banishment for generations, but I strongly doubt that much of Velikovsky’s theory (Napier and Clube’s work notwithstanding) will ever be revived in scientific circles, just like Hapgood’s Pole Shift hypothesis will likely never emerge again from the dustbin of scientific history.  Even Einstein can be wrong.  

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

I just read an excellent analysis of the surreal direction that the American media has lately taken.  I don’t read Counterpunch much anymore, but it has long been one of the best voices on the Left.  Its late editor, Alexander Cockburn, was a little too ideologically opposed to the idea that JFK was killed in a conspiracy and cover-up (Mike Parenti noted that neither Cockburn nor Uncle Noam were versed in the slightest on the JFK evidence amassed by independent researchers, and both openly stated that they didn’t want to be, which made their opinions on the subject worthless) but if you can get past the ideology, Counterpunch has served a great function.  I am not a Trump fan, have never voted Republican in my life and never will, but the so-called Left is really going out there, and here is a recent article on the myths circulating, even before the Trump golden shower disinformation tale made the rounds.

As I look back at my recent posts on my 2002 site’s essays, I see that I did not really do one on one of my favorite and earliest essays, on the lies that I was raised with.  As with so many other areas of my work, if I had not been awakened by my first stint with Dennis, as I could see the media make it up as it went, even for “investigative” journalism, and then immediately worked for another company that the media and government targeted, in an effort to put it out of business, I would likely have not been inspired to dig into my early indoctrination and conditioning like I did, exposing the worthlessness of my profession, the lies around Saint Serra, and study the media, beginning with Lies of Our Times, which Uncle Ed edited and Uncle Noam wrote an article a month for.  I read the daily newspaper every day for 20 years, and now realize that I was receiving a form of brainwashing.  

My digging into the lies around America’s Thanksgiving tradition, the real story of that tragic hero Custer, what the “settling” of the American West was really like, how George Washington crafted the plan to steal a continent, and the real story of Columbus’s heroic feat, just came with the territory.  The West’s censorship of Twain and Orwell I discovered through Uncle Noam’s work, as I did regarding the media’s treatment of the Reagan administration’s genocides in Central America.  As the war drums were beating when I moved to Ohio, a childhood friend called me up, parroting the Iraqi incubator story, and I’ll tell his story soon, as another cautionary tale on getting your social circles involved in work like mine.

Like my exposure of the structural corruption in my profession, I finished that “Lies That I Was Raised With” essay with a chapter on the historian’s ideal and how far short the profession has fallen, due to the standard in-group conflicts of interest, demonstrating once again that personal integrity is the world’s scarcest commodity.  Those kinds of performances were exactly the kind that got Brian O openly wondering if humanity was a sentient species, but his observation came in reaction to his scientific peers’ reaction to the idea of free energy.  Orthodox scientists too often have been the high priests of materialism, which is our Epoch’s dominant religion.  

Best,

Wade

Edited January 14, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

Some of what follows I have not told publicly before, or it no longer exists on my site.  I ordered Ralph McGehee’s book in 1990, when I saw an ad for it in Lies of Our Times.  Those days were at the very beginning of my media studies.  I had long ago heard about my close relative’s secret life as a CIA contract agent, heard about Dennis’s murderous adventures in Southeast Asia, and had pals who were in Vietnam, as murderers, deserters, and the like, after I nearly joined the military myself.  I got to hear about our boys’ evil deeds in Vietnam, had already been radicalized when I encountered Ralph’s work, so little about the USA’s monumental crimes in Southeast Asia could surprise me, but Ralph’s account was something new to me, which paralleled mine in ways.  

Ralph’s book began with his moment of truth, which was similar to Dennis’s, which was similar to mine.  But after his moving beginning, his story was kind of dry, recounting his experiences in the CIA, moving from one nation to another, oblivious as to what he was really involved with.  I remember being about halfway through the book and laid it aside, reading other stuff more interesting to me at the time.  Ralph’s book sat on my shelf, half read, for a month or so, and I remember looking at it during that interlude, thinking that I had better resume reading it to the end, out of a sense of scholarly duty.  Boy, am I glad that I did, because Ralph’s dry presentation of his early career was just a warm-up to a series of haunting revelations.  Ralph’s career breakthrough was received by scuttling his program, and he could not understand why.  He came up with the wrong answer.  Communism could not be damned as an evil if the peasantry wanted it.  Ralph’s volunteering for Saigon duty in 1967 finally brought him to his place of understanding, and he nearly did not survive the experience, as Dennis almost did not survive.  My moment of truth was gentler.

Six years later, as I hurriedly wrote those 400 pages and slapped it onto the Internet, I contacted Ralph, asking for his permission to publish my synopsis of his book, and he consented.  My site came down several months later, and did not reappear for more than a year, as I began publishing the essays that became my site as it stands today.  I hardly contacted anybody for more than a year, as I studied and wrote away.  One person reproduced my entire site, and as I came out of my study and writing hibernation, I discovered that my synopsis of Ralph’s book was reproduced in several places on the Internet.  I contacted one former military operative who had published my synopsis, asking him where he got it from, and he replied that he thought that it came from Ralph.  I was stunned.  I hurriedly wrote it, as I cranked out those hundreds of pages, and when I saw what Ralph had done, I contacted him and wrote an essay devoted to his work.  What you see today is close to the 1998 version that I wrote, and I doubt that I will change it much more.  

I began my relationship with Ralph after that, which lasted for a few years.  Ralph was busy with his CIABASE efforts, I was busy with my writing and study, but we had plenty of exchanges in those years.  I was in a debt-forgiveness march the night before the teargas at the WTO, and we commiserated in those days.  While others had written about Ralph, he said that my summary was the best that he had seen on his work.  I think it was because it takes one to know one.  Ralph was another awakened overgrown Boy Scout.  It took another awakened Boy Scout to truly recognize him.  There really aren’t many like us, and it is one of the loneliest feelings in the world.  

Although Ralph always jumped through the CIA’s legal hoops, it did not stop their illegal harassment of him.  Ralph retired in the shadow of Langley, and the local police seemed to train its goons by practicing on Ralph, trying to set him up for shoplifting and other crimes, and their efforts eventually led to bodily injury.  Ralph finally decided that he had had enough around 2000, planned to move to Florida, near one of his children, stop his CIABASE activities, and quietly live out his remaining years.  He sold off his intelligence library, of a thousand volumes, for a song, to a university, and I would have happily paid more for it, but the university was probably the best place for it.  I bought the first issues of Lies of Our Times from Ralph (before I subscribed to it – I have the complete collection), and that first image comes from Ralph’s copy.  Those issues have Ralph’s mailing label on them, and are about my only mementos from our friendship.  

When the Bush regime stole the 2000 election, the harassment of Ralph increased to the point where he was afraid to leave his home, and in August 2001, he sent me that CIA statement to put on my site, and it has been there ever since.  It is not the only one like it, and Ralph said that mine seemed to reduce the FBI’s harassment of him.  A month later, 9/11 happened, Ralph sought the lowest profile that he could, and I have left him alone since then.  Another voice silenced, in The Land of the Free.  The idea of freedom of speech in the USA is an obscene joke.  You are free to speak up, and the goons are free to wipe you out on behalf of their patrons.  

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

Here is a good place to begin with my relationship with Brian.  I have written about him plenty, but now he comes into the story of the lessons that I learned.  I have somewhere written that the man who ran the local chapter of the new science organization where they had their annual conference seemed to be trying to get rid of me when he sent me to pick up Brian from the airport.  I should thank him one day.  I did not know who Brian was, and within a minute or two in my car, he told me that it was Sparky Sweet whom Mr. Advisor told me about the previous year.  Within a half-hour, we were driving past the front gates of Wright Patterson Air Force Base and joking about taking busloads of people from the conference and arriving at those gates, asking for a tour of Hangar 18 and the Blue Room.  He probably told me about his astronaut background on that ride.  At that time, I was going to a therapist for my post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of my Ventura days, and was a couple of years into my studies that eventually became my public writings.  After driving Brian to that conference, we had no more contact for the next five years (I found my job at that trucking company a week or two later), until he published Miracle in the Void.  I became that book’s biggest fan and Brian called me a few months later, to arrange for him to meet Dennis at a New Age expo where they both talked, as Dennis began barnstorming the USA just when Brian began his ride as the Paul Revere of Free Energy.  Around the same time, Brian called me to be a “ringer” for his appearance on Art Bell’s show, as I recall, to ask him new energy questions as he promoted his book.

I do not recall talking to Brian for another couple of years, when I called him as he was downloading the 1998 Face on Mars image, over the slow Internet connections that we had in those days.  I did not contact him again for another three years, after I got to the bottom of the moon landings issue, partly because of him.  That was in June or July of 2001, and Brian invited me to hang out with him in California, and I did.  It was at almost exactly the same time as I posted that CIA letter on my site for Ralph.  While driving Brian around on that trip, I met Mark, hung out with other free energy luminaries, and those were about my last days of “innocence,” as 9/11 happened the next month.  I was interested to hear how Brian’s Paul Revere ride went, and he went into a litany of the crazed reactions of denial and fear that he received from his “peers” on his ride.  That was when I first heard Brian openly wonder whether humanity was a sentient species, and I sadly understood.  That conversation happened right after we were nearly run out of town for trying to interest California’s governor in free energy, as Enron was raping the state.

As I watched the World Trade Center towers burning before they collapsed, I knew then that my efforts to right humanity’s ship were too little and too late.  I had been in my midlife crisis for more than a year by then, and 9/11’s genocidal aftermath sent me into the dark phase my midlife crisis, which lasted until 2006, when Dennis invited me to the White House.  It was five years of nearly continual emotional agony.  If I had not stopped drinking in 2000, just as my midlife crisis was beginning, I might not be here today.  I would have drunk myself to death, as my close relative did, who did it partly to deal with his secret life as a CIA contract agent.  His fate is not unusual in that milieu, and I could have easily become a casualty of the bottle.  

After our meeting in California, Brian and I did not interact much, if at all, until he contacted me in the spring of 2003, not long after Bush’s Mission Accomplished speech, to help him found the New Energy Movement.  But that story will come later.  There is a great deal to still write about, as far as building that 2002 version of my site, and other lessons that I learned in those days.  

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

It is time for another cautionary tale.  I could tell a few like this, such as that old girlfriend who gave me a preview of what was in store for me, and one more should get the idea across in no uncertain terms.  Everybody in the free energy field, who has played at the high levels, has stories like what I am about to tell.

One reason why humanity has been successful has been its ability to learn vicariously.  Monkeys have calls for various hazards, with one for snakes, one for birds of prey, etc., to alert their societies of imminent dangers.  With their mastery of language, humans can provide more detailed information on hazards, so that others can learn vicariously and not walk into a den of lions unaware to take a nap, play with a python, and the like.  Try as I might to dissuade it, almost all of my pupils have gone out to proselytize to their social circles, and I always hear back on relationships and even careers that were wrecked by doing that.  I hope that more people can learn vicariously. 

One of the greatest hazards of the free energy pursuit is what the magnitude of its impact does to people’s minds.  Free energy will be the biggest event in the human journey, by far, and it does not take much intelligence to begin to understand.  If it came through the capitalist model, it would dwarf everything that came before it, making Bill Gates appear a pauper to all who lived in a world powered by free energy.  People going off the deep end and declaring themselves to be the Second Coming or Messiah are just part of the absurd scenery.  The coming of free energy will end the world as we know it, so few people have a lukewarm reaction to the idea of free energy, and I have seen it all over the past 30 years (I became Dennis’s partner 30 years ago yesterday).  When people are around those who actually pursue free energy, the reactions escalate by orders of magnitude.

I have watched many people turn into orcs before my eyes, lusting after The One Ring, watched them go insane, and have many other dysfunctional reactions.  Some around me would try to help, but as I learned, it was not really with the goal in mind, which is bringing free energy to the world, but to somehow cash in by being close to it, serving their egos and not the cause.  That is one reason behind my “give it away” strategy.  Also, I have to own some of this.  After getting clobbered like I did, I spent years trying to understand why the world worked so starkly differently from what I was taught.  The vast majority of humanity does not have the personal integrity to question their conditioning, and usually those who awoke past it did it the hard way.  Trying to wake up those around you is extremely hazardous.  Those closest to you will often try to take you out, when you threaten the self-serving delusions of their in-group.  This is just a hazard of being a social animal.  I did not really understand when I left Ventura that the same lack of integrity that I witnessed during my free energy quest was the very same lack of integrity for why people eagerly defend the lies of their in-groups, and will even embrace certain death rather than question their indoctrination.

It took me many years to realize that all of the reactions of fear and denial to the idea of free energy, to embracing certain death, to eagerly believing and defending the lies, were all facets of the same phenomenon, which was just my journey’s primary lesson generalized to all areas of our lives.  I had a delusion that they could handle the truth, heck, were even interested in knowing the truth.  Almost nobody on Earth is, so I have to own my part in what happened, of exposing people to information that challenged their self-serving beliefs, and that begins my final anecdote on this issue.  

Even before Junípero Serra elementary school opened, I caught the bus to school in front of a boy’s house, across the street from our future school that was under construction.  We were always friendly but never close pals in those early years.  He was every bit as intelligent as I was, and at nearly a year younger than me, they skipped him a grade when he began school.  He is an Ashkenazi Jew, so his genius-level IQ was not unusual, and his father wanted to become a doctor but was unable to, so his father’s hopes of “my son the doctor” were heaped on that boy.  He became a doctor of pharmacy instead, I am sure to his father’s everlasting disappointment.  In high school, as we registered for classes, we suddenly decided to enroll in the same classes, and we did so through high school graduation, and both had the same 3.9 GPA.  In our first month of high school, he “burned” me by “volunteering” me for a trip to Europe.  I did not want to go, and had the summer of my life (I am mentioned by my tour leader in this book).  He was scheduled to go on the same tour the next summer (seeing how I had been “burned”  ), but his parents were faced with the decision of funding his college or a trip to Europe, not both, and he never went.  

After high school, he went off to the big city of LA, attended UCLA, immersed himself in fraternity life, and the like, while I attended the local community college, where I eventually met Mr. Professor after that voice spoke up.  We slowly grew apart after high school, but he had a younger brother.  Born only little more than a year apart, while the older brother was skipped a grade, the other was held back a grade, making them three years apart in school, so I never went to school with his younger brother.  The younger brother did not get his brother’s brains, let us say.  But we became close, just as his brother and I grew apart.  He followed me to the same university, again, after I graduated, just as he followed me at all schools from fourth grade through his college diploma.  My relationship with him will be the focus of my cautionary tale, which will take a little telling.  

Best,

Wade

Edited January 19, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

To continue that cautionary tale, almost more important than our friendship, his parents treated me like another son, and his father was in ways a better father to me than my own father was.  He was a classic Jewish mensch.  While I was being raised with the idea that I would not quite be a man until I had been a soldier, in the early 1970s, when it looked like his sons might be drafted to fight in the USA’s evil invasion of Southeast Asia, he was planning to move his family to Australia.  Only the end of the draft kept that family in the USA.  My friend’s mother was raised during the Blitz in London, and left Europe as soon as she could.  Jews are mobile.

That friend saw me go from a happy teenager to an unhappy professional in LA.  He lived in Newport Beach while I worked in skid row, and those contrasts are the greatest in LA.  We saw plenty of each other, and when I moved away for the second time to Seattle, he understood.  When I became Dennis’s partner, I gave away 10% of my shares, and that friend received some.  A month later, his mother called me, to get in on the action, and they became part of my second wave of investors.  They put up $1,000.  A few months later, we were moving back to Ventura, because of the secret deal that Mr. Mentor made with Dennis, so my friend got a front-row seat to what happened in Ventura.  He came to Ventura from Newport Beach often during those next three years.  He was the person who called me up in December 1988, telling me that he was glad that he was not me, and I could not blame him.  I would have rather been anyplace else on Earth.  He was my most supportive friend during the Ventura nightmare, but I now know that there was a voyeuristic aspect to his interest in me.  I had been in situations that he could barely fathom, and he saw my life get wrecked.  It fascinated him, in a kind of horrific way.

He saw me sacrifice my life, and he gets some credit for my marriage.  During one visit to my home, he told my future wife that I was the greatest human being that he ever met.  His endorsement helped her sort me out from the other aspirants for her hand (and that is another long story that I will never tell publicly).  After the dust settled in Ventura, I got married, moved away from my home town, and never returned.  But that friend stayed close.  I took him on the only two backpacks of his life, in the Cascades, in 1993 and 1996, paid to fly him out to Ohio for a week, in 1995, and he came to visit me soon after I moved back to Seattle.  But I need to back up to the genesis of the end of our relationship.

My mother was a TV addict and I was raised on it, until I gave it up during my first year of college and never went back.  As I look back, it was a key moment in my journey of awakening, as I unhooked from the most potent brainwashing technology in the USA.  But my former friend is likely a TV addict to this day.  He was the person who called me right after Dennis was arrested, telling me of the news clip that was being aired in LA. He got a dose through me of how the media played the game, but it did not dissuade him from parroting what he saw on TV.  For instance, he called me in anger about the Iraq incubator story.  He was not angry at the media, but swallowed the story whole.  I was just beginning my media studies then, and would soon receive my first issue of Lies of Our Times.  After being on the receiving end of the media’s lies so many times by then, I was quite skeptical of the “news.”  My friend called me regularly, parroting what was on the evening new shows, while I was beginning my media studies, and encountering Uncles Noam, Ed, and the like was revelatory for me in those days.  I bought a copy of the first media analysis book I ever read, Unreliable Sources, and sent it to my friend.  I hoped that he would begin to understand that he was drinking from a poisoned well by watching the TV news, or even reading the newspaper, but after a sobering moment of reflection after reading the book, he was soon calling me again and parroting the TV news.  It was an early lesson for me on these issues.  People need the egocentric propaganda that they fill their heads with.  It would be very difficult to ever again take the American media seriously after reading Unreliable Sources, but it just did not seem to sink in with my friend.  

As I look back, that was really the beginning of the end of our friendship.  My friend’s TV reality was just too incompatible with mine.  If he could have left it at that, our relationship might have survived, but he then began doing something that I have now witnessed many times, and I am weary of the process.  My friend’s interest in my journey and what I learned now began to set up extreme cognitive dissonance in him, and I am not sure how conscious he was of it, but in almost every conversation since his reading Unreliable Sources, he challenged my developing worldview, and he did it in the most inflammatory way possible.  With a brother who was every bit as intelligent as I was, he knew that he could not match wits with me, and it was stupid to even try, but he did, continually, and it was very draining.  One pal called it “sword fighting,” and it is similar to the trolling phenomenon on the Internet.

I went from applying to the Air Force Academy to becoming a pacifist by age 19, partly as a result of my spiritual studies.  Unlike my friend, I am a person whose convictions were tested, and harshly.  Almost everybody on Earth sees themselves as victims, but because of their long journey, Jews seem to have an extra helping of that mentality, and maybe that was partly behind my friend’s ardor.  Over the next several years, my friend and I had at least 50 conversations in which he would try to maneuver the conversation into portraying a situation that justified righteous violence against the bad guys.  His arguments came from about a comic book, George Bush the Second level of intelligence.  Impatience is my Achilles heel, and I get to work on it every day, but I almost never had to work on it more than listening to all of those violence-justifying conversations that my friend engaged me in.  Those conversations always ended badly on my end.  I always exposed the misinformation and irrationality that underlaid my friend’s perspective, but he always came back for more.  It was irritating and burdensome, and I tried to avoid having such conversations with him.  But he was having none of it and kept plowing ahead with his predilection for violence, but always of the armchair fantasy kind, not related to any real-world experiences.  

After interacting with Uncle Howard, Peter Ward, Brian O, and the like, I know that my work is world class, and trying to use it to help manifest the biggest event in the human journey is something that I take very seriously, to put it mildly.  My estimation of my work’s worth is not just my ego talking, but what I have received from people that I highly respect, some who are world authorities.  But I long ago learned the truth of that saying attributed to Jesus, that prophets have no honor in their home towns.  That world authorities would rave about my work would mean nothing to my friend, even though he also knew that my mind functioned leaps and bounds above his.  He saw me grow up in his neighborhood, and by golly, he had an opinion!

Over those several years he repeatedly did his best to banish the challenge to his worldview that I represented, even when he saw what I went through and knew that he really could not honestly win a debate with me.  As I look back, he was abusing our friendship, and it wore on me.  I never called him up to talk about my latest scholarly lessons, not after he began parroting the evening news again, but I had to regularly field his obsession for finding situations, largely fantastic scenarios that he would dream up, that justified righteous violence.  What I also learned from the experience was that when somebody begins trying to justify murder, if you don’t agree with their logic, you become their target.  In ways I have to thank my friend, as I receive the lessons of his inane arguments before I began interacting with the public.  

There was always love between us, but he was really getting on my nerves as the years went by.  On the 1996 backpack, he disregarded my advice on his footgear and bought some cheap boots that turned his feet into a bloody mess on the second day of a six-day backpack.  He lost the boots that he wore on the 1993 trip, when he followed my instructions, decided to go with cheap boots, and was nearly delirious in pain for most of the trip.  That was a lesson for me, and I am kind of a trip Nazi anymore, and will not allow unprepared people to go on trips with me, as it can put the entire party in jeopardy.  

When I moved back to Seattle and he visited me in the fall of 1997, he lectured me on how I was not an obedient member of the herd.  I am not taking any rhetorical liberties here.  He literally admonished me for not drinking the Kool-Aid of American nationalism and other dominant ideologies, while extolling his virtues of being a proud member of the herd, where he found safety.  He was not the only one doing that in those days.  It got back to me that my family thought that my public writings would get me in trouble with Washington State’s power structure.  My friend and relatives actually had to admit that I was right, but being right and attacked was not as preferable as being wrong and silent (or right and silent), in their eyes.  Those frank admissions were rather refreshing, as they admitted their cowardice and preoccupation with their self-interest, instead of getting into specious arguments with me.  With most family members, I can talk about sports and the weather, and that is about it.  Anything else gets into areas where the conversation becomes unpleasant, as they parrot the news and defend their delusional worldviews.  

Again, I have to own some of that.  I know that my personal integrity is extraordinary, sadly, and I can’t expect anybody around me to match it, but it took me years to understand that that lack of integrity extends to their egocentric worldviews, which they will defend to the death, even if it means embracing certain death.  They don’t want to hear anything that challenges it, and I am partly responsible for my friend’s escalating reactions to me.  Even though he knew that he was in the wrong, his ego could not let it go.  He had to make himself right by trying to prove me wrong, even though in sane moments, he knew that his task was hopeless.  And that led to the end of our relationship, and worse, and that will take some telling.

Best,

Wade

Edited January 19, 2017 by Wade Frazier

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

I got married in the minister’s living room in a ten minute ceremony (across the street from the county complex where my life was ruined), and my wife and I had one witness each, and my friend was mine (my wife’s sisters also attended), and he helped us move out of our house the next day.  His mother typed up my wife’s master’s thesis, I helped clean up their disheveled house, and many events like that happened over the years.  My friend had a troubled childhood and nearly burned down his family’s home when he was twelve or so, my mother came over and comforted him, and they were close ever since.  Our families had numerous ties like that.  

I can’t recall the exact year, but I believe that it was a year or two after moving to Ohio, when my friend called me up, telling me that my mother had just left his parent’s home.  She showed them a scrapbook that she had made of the libelous articles about our company, telling them the story of her son the criminal.  My mother had refused to speak to me after the raid, and we had not spoken for years at that moment.  When I heard of her “my son the criminal” scrapbook tour, I had been through so much by that time that it did not even hurt anymore.  I received much worse from close family members, but my relationship with my mother was never the same after the Ventura experience.  I saw her three times after I moved away from Ventura, in conjunction with family reunions that I arranged and usually paid for, until her death in 2012.  

So, there were many close connections between our families.  In 1998, I was working on my site, doing my studies and writing.  After college graduation, my friend became a middle school teacher.  After a decade or so of that, he decided to go back to school and become a nurse, and moved in with his parents to attend that local community college that offered a two-year nursing program.  He got out of debt when he quit his job and moved in with his parents, as he played the starving college student.  He could have taken loans, but chose not to. Other than some help from Dennis for a few months in 1997, before his company collapsed, I was on my own with my writing and study, with my wife working and me maxing out our credit cards.  I went back to work in early 1999, and worked almost continuously for the next two years (other than that summer of World War II studies).  

In late 1998, my friend called me, and for the first time, he asked me for money.  I think it was for books for school or something similar.  I was living off of my credit cards, and tried to tell him so, and his reply was, “I would do it for you!”  He could have done what I did, getting a credit card for his purchases (we all got credit card applications almost daily back then, with the first Fed-fueled bubble), but he was somehow opposed to going into bank debt.  So I had to borrow on my credit card to loan him the money.  He was abusing our friendship once again, and as he used his friendship to secure that loan, he mentioned that sometime in the future he needed some work done on his car, and that he might hit me up again for more.  I was not an enthusiastic lender.  His brother, the doctor of pharmacy, was making great money, but he was hitting me up.  That “someday” literally came a week later, when my friend called up and asked for more money.  When I mentioned how quickly “someday” was, he said, “I would do it for you!”  I lent him the money, about $1,200 in total, and soon went back to work at a dot-com company, with that money to him being part of my decision.

Not long afterward, he called me up to have one of his standard violence-justifying conversations.  I had been writing very publicly since 1991 about the USA’s imperial behavior, largely regarding Iraq, and I kind of predicted 9/11, and there my friend was, calling me up to cheer whomever we were bombing.  This was not long after loaning him that money, and I asked him to refrain from calling me about political issues.  It was the same tired conversation that we had had at least 50 times before, in which he parroted the TV news.  

Living on the West Coast, particularly cities such as LA, San Francisco, and Seattle, is a great way to meet people from all over the world.  I live across the street from Microsoft’s headquarters, and my neighborhood is a little world’s fair, as my neighbors are nerds from across the world, from China to India to the Middle East to Eastern Europe.  My friend tried to become worldly by cultivating relationships with foreign nationals, which is not hard to do in those cities, and he had some pals from Yugoslavia.  But the immigrants to the USA are often from ruling classes, not the impoverished peoples from around the world, or if they are, they pick America’s fruits and vegetables, harvest mushrooms in the forests, work in factories and fast food establishments, and are not the upper-class professionals that my friend and I would encounter in our daily lives.  Where I work today has employees from across the world, and I am in constant interaction with people whose mother tongue is not English.  As somebody who is hard of hearing, it is challenging.  

When Bill Clinton began bombing Serbia, my friend called me up to cheer the bombing, stating that the Serbs “only understand violence.”  He got that little ditty from his upper-class Yugoslavian pals.  That was the last straw for me, and it was for him, too. I told him that I had asked that he not call me up to talk politics, and he berated me for not “respecting” his opinion.  He was right.  I didn’t.  We were finished.  There was the matter of the $1,200 that he essentially extorted from me.  I wrote to his parents, noted that my friendship with their son had ended, that he owed me $1,200, and that I wanted him to pay it to his parents, not me, and they could become whole from the $1,000 that they had invested in my company.  My friend later wrote me, in appreciation of my gesture.  I let him know that he was welcome, but I did not want to interact with him.  I was busy with my World War II and Holocaust studies and writings, and that last thing that I needed was interacting with him, an Ashkenazi Jew, of all people.  

Over the years, some have accused me of being a megalomaniac.  However, every time that somebody did that, it was to try to deflect attention from their deep personality issues as they attacked me, because they did not get from me what they wanted.  Every time somebody did that, I withdrew from the relationship, and each time, I later heard about their meltdowns, with some becoming candidates for institutionalization.  I wake up every day with my ego, have to deal with it each day, and I do my best to not let it get the best of me.  Not many can do what I do and not go off the deep end.  Some have declared themselves to be the Second Coming or Messiah, go Über-warrior, be overcome by greed, and so on.  I have seen it all, and I have had to do my best to stay grounded, and hiking in nature is one of my strategies.

You will see how I know this in coming posts, but a few months after I contacted his parents, he wrote me an email.  I had my email address on my site from 1996 to 2002, so anybody could contact me.  He disguised his identity in that email, posing as somebody who stumbled upon my site, and gave me high praise.  I gave the usual cordial and terse thanks for reading.  He was testing his theory that I was a megalomaniac, but I responded in a modest way.  Some weeks later, I received another email from him.  He did not disguise his identity that time, and said that he wanted to renew our friendship.  I was in the middle of the study and writing that damaged my marriage, and the last thing that I needed was to interact with him.  I was open to it maybe someday, but I responded by asking that we put off any kind of rapprochement for some time.  

Like a lover spurned, he flew into a tirade, extolling his benevolence in contacting me again while hurling several insults my way.  His tantrum reminded me why I did not want to interact with him.  I was finished with him.  I could not afford to have “friends” who were like albatrosses around my neck, not with what I was attempting.  He was far from the only parasite in my life, and I eventually had to let them all go.  In every instance, they attacked me when they did not think that I gave them what they “deserved,” and in each instance, they ended the relationship, and I was relieved when they did.  This is a hazard of being an overgrown Boy Scout.  In our world of scarcity and fear, people quest after people like us, will bleed us dry if they can (that hooker is one example of many), and will become indignant if the well runs dry.  It happened many times with friends and family members, to the extent that I am very careful about any social interaction with people.  And among my fellow travelers, what I am relating here is a typical story, which I am getting into the details of, as a cautionary tale for gung-ho newcomers to the free energy field.  

Like in the movie Fatal Attraction, my former friend was not finished with me, and he would later commit crimes against me, which is coming.  

Best,

Wade

Edited January 21, 2017 by Wade Frazier