Wade Frazier

Hi: On that Saturday, the day after Dennis’s investor left him high and dry, I got on the phone, on fire, and called my friends and family. I did not ask them to invest, not really. I would borrow the money, and they would get the equity. I guaranteed their “investment.” I would not get any equity myself, but would simply manage the money of my soon-to-be-rich friends and family. That was how naïve I was. Alison knew it, and cautioned Dennis about somebody as naïve as me raising money like that and becoming his partner. Dennis replied that I was exactly the kind of investor that he wanted. My innocence, idealism, and enthusiasm were more important to him than a boatload of money. He tried to protect that innocence, such as not telling me that that investor was going to put up $1 million; the $20K was merely a downpayment. That cost me later, and I did not find out until I read it in one of Dennis’s books. When Dennis heard what I was doing, he told me to get 20% of the equity for myself, which I did. So, I owned 10% of our company. By Monday morning, $25K was on its way to my bank account. I was just happy to be there, wanting to help Dennis rebuild, and until that Saturday morning, becoming Dennis’s partner was not even in my universe of the possible. I had witnessed his Seattle company get stolen, had heard plenty about his problems with partners in the past, and I decided to end all specter of problems from me, and gave Dennis one share of what my company would own, so that Dennis owned 501 shares, and my group owned 499. He would have control of the venture. I was his first partner who did that. I named my company Better World Investors. That name reincarnated a decade later in Dennis’s Better World Technologies. My biggest investor was Mr. Mentor, at $10K (he understood that I was the arrow that he launched), my smallest was a college roommate who died nearly a decade ago, who was raising a family but could spare $200 (his children received ten times as much when he died), and that old girlfriend, who threw herself at me for year before I did anything about it, put up $500, for one of my smallest investors. Those who could not or would not invest got shares, as I gave away 10% of my shares to them. We were all going to get aboard The Good Ship Lollipop, and change the world in the process. There was really only one sour note during that amazing weekend, when I called my mother. She began ranting and raving at me, for nearly an hour, and I when I put down the phone, I shook my head in shock. It was only a prelude to her campaigning against me years later. I later realized that she was wrestling with the demons of poor decisions that she had made in her life, and was taking them out on me (and anybody else that she could, including Mr. Mentor, and his involvement was part of her ire). My mother was not very intelligent, with an IQ of about 90 or so. My mother’s reaction should have warned me about what was coming, but I just saw it as a bizarre event during that weekend, not as a harbinger of things to come. That old girlfriend was only a little better than my mother in the intelligence department. I tutored her for the CPA exam, which she was never able to pass, after years of cramming. If she could have passed the exam, almost anybody could have. I never even studied for the exam. For any halfway decent accountant, the CPA exam was a trivial formality. I was going to have a front-row seat to watch the magician build something, and something important. I was well aware that free energy, like Dennis’s heat pump, was not going to be welcomed in all corners, but I was embarking on the learning experiences of my life. I never suspected what the next two years would bring. On Monday, we began the preparations for our first Greatest Energy Shows on Earth, and the first was held exactly one month after I raised the money. Events began to come fast and furiously, as Dennis was unleashed once again, and this time, he did not have to worry that his partner would stab him in the back. It is going to take quite a few posts to cover the next two years of my life. If not for those years, I would likely not have much worth saying. Best, Wade

Hi: I was driven to write this just before I go out the door to a very long day at the office. The purpose of this series of posts on Dennis’s and my adventures is to help reach those who I am attempting to reach. The people that I seek will recognize our adventures in their own journeys. There are not many of them on Earth, but I am putting out a beacon for them. I know what they will have in common. All sorts of seemingly well-intended people proffer all sorts of advice to me, and almost none of them really understand what I am doing, as they invariably project their own motivation and awareness at what I am doing. Almost nobody on Earth is willing or able to comprehend my message, and I know this all too well. Messages of future Epochs have almost never even been comprehensible to those mired in their Epochs, and that is OK. I seek the few who can comprehend it, or at least are willing to try. The masses will awaken when the means of abundance are delivered into their lives, and not before, and only then will a message like mine begin to be comprehended. It is just what it is, and it does no good to judge the situation, but trying to crack the social nut for this Epochal undertaking is an exercise in futility (and trying to find the easy way out) and perilous to those trying to awaken their social circles to my message. I always try to dissuade that newcomer delusion. Best, Wade

Hi: That winter of 1986-1987 ended the happiest year of my life, and it literally ended about exactly one year after it began, when I got hit by that lightning bolt. That first month in Boston was spent living at that family’s solar home, doing their accounting, watching those videos of Dennis’s past, getting to know Dennis and his family, and beginning to wrap my head around Dennis’s idea of how to do free energy. Today, I am Uncle Wade to Dennis’s daughters, but Dennis understandably watched me around his daughters, a relative stranger who followed Dennis across the country, living under his roof. He obviously had had some bad experiences with taking in people like that. It was not until I saw Dennis in 2013 that he told me how carefully he watched how I behaved around his young daughters, who were ages six and eight that winter. I don’t know when he became satisfied that I was not a threat to his family, his daughters least of all, but I babysat them not long after we began living in a house together, so he must have become satisfied by then, which was around the time that I became his partner. That family’s solar home was in a pastoral suburb, next to a pond that the family patriarch designed for the neighborhood, with the homes situated in a ring around it. One part was carved into what was about an Olympic-sized swimming hole that doubled as a hockey rink in the winter, which I walked on after it froze over (the first time in my life that I was on ice like that). It was my first real winter. That family took me to the family farm that the matriarch was raised on, on an island on Lake Champlain, on a weekend in early December, when I began what became the longest fast of my life so far, of 45 days. All that I had was a gallon of apple juice each day, which cost about $2.25. I did it partly because it was cheaper than eating. While it was the happiest year of my life, I had almost no income that year, and the yuppie lifestyle that I had left LA with was beaten out of me. I could live in a tent if I had to, and I spent many nights sleeping in the back my Pinto wagon over the years, with my sleeping pad and sleeping bag that I used for backpacking. I also heard about what Dennis had been doing since he arrived in Boston, and it was a familiar story. He immediately began building a sales team, and his lead salesman tried to steal the company. That was not the only such attempt while we were in Boston. Another issue was the officials in Washington State. Betsy quit her career after her final confrontation with Dennis, as her conscience awoke when her nose was rubbed in her evil activities. But when tools such as Betsy are no longer useful, there are plenty ready to take her place, and a woman in the Attorney General’s office replaced Betsy as Dennis’s assailant. Over the years, I have seen her tell Big Lies about Dennis in the national media (such as the millions that he “stole” from people), and those who encountered her remarked on her hysterical shrieks about what an evil man Dennis was, as she nearly foamed at the mouth. Is she stupid enough to believe her lies? I doubt it. She is just one of the many zero-integrity individuals who populate the USA’s legal system, eager to ruin innocent lives on behalf of her patrons. I call her Ms. Pinch Hitter in my writings. When Betsy quit the Attorney General’s office, she got a job teaching law school at a Seattle university ever since, and so has Ms. Pinch Hitter, at the same university, as an adjunct to her duties at the Attorney General’s office, where she still works as I write this. She is also a noted “philanthropist,” playing that dark pather game, pretending to serve the public interest and serve humanity, as she eats a plateful of humanity every day. Her public image is even more august than Mr. Deputy’s, who retired to a hero’s farewell several years ago, and whose annual pension is about $250K per hear. Working for the forces of darkness pays well and provides many “benefits,” for a time. I bring up Ms. Pinch Hitter because running Dennis out of his home state was not enough. Just before he left, Dennis said that if he had stayed in Washington much longer, the police might have “found” a barrel of heroin in his bedroom closet. When Dennis left Washington, Ms. Pinch Hitter stalked him, spewing her toxic lies far and wide. She contacted the District Attorney’s office in Middlesex County, where that family’s office was in Woburn. Dennis had been there only a week or two when an investigator from Middlesex County’s District Attorney’s office swaggered into that family’s office. Enlightened by Ms. Pinch Hitter’s Big Lies, that investigator was convinced that he had the criminal of the century in his backyard, and among the many officious threats that he threw at Dennis that day, he said that he relished the day when he put Dennis behind bars. You could not have convinced me of it at the time, but it is a little more honest on the East Coast than on the West Coast. That investigator launched a criminal investigation against Dennis, but could not find any laws that Dennis was breaking, and we left the state before they could come up with something. We discovered that in the discovery evidence in Ventura, in a statement that that investigator wrote the day after the raid. While I was fasting, Dennis was beginning to stir things up. I made my first financial model, working all night long, at that family’s home, so that Dennis could make a presentation to some investors in Texas. An astronaut was on their board, and when Dennis’s finished his presentation, the astronaut said in disgust, “Hasn’t he ever heard of entropy?!” Actually, Dennis hadn’t, and before long this series of posts will get into thermodynamics. Dennis’s original idea was naïve, in more than one way. But I had no way to assess that at the time. Just before Christmas of 1986, we moved out of that family’s home into a house in Winchester, which was a ten minute drive to that family’s new office in an industrial park, with a couple of offices in front and warehouse in the back. I did not have enough money to pay the bills that I incurred by moving there, and in mid-January, 1987, I had to get a temp job to pay those bills (and buy my apple juice ), and I got a job at a Kennedy foundation, established in the name of JFK’s sister who got a lobotomy. It was run by Eunice, another of JFK’s sisters. I worked as a payables clerk. The Kennedys were regarded as American royalty in Boston, and generally revered or reviled by the people. Dennis had been reduced to being a salesman for that family, but was trying to attract investors into bailing/buyout out that family, but the family fought and resisted him all the way. Any savvy businessman quickly realized where the talent was in that organization, and one of Dennis’s customers was not so interested in becoming partners with that family, but with Dennis. Dennis was talking up his free energy idea, and that investor said that there were two kinds of entrepreneurs: those who wanted to get rich, and those who wanted to build something of lasting benefit to society, and he saw Dennis as the latter. I was making the only income in our household at the time, working for the Kennedy foundation, and Dennis was in discussions with that investor. I was going to keep working until Dennis raised the money, and then I would quit and help Dennis rebuild his next effort. That was really all that I was there for, to help out, and rehabilitating Mr. Mentor, who had long since retired, as an angry and bitter man, as all of his inventions had either been stolen or suppressed. He worked as a handyman. On Thursday of that week, Dennis said that he was going to close on the investment on Friday, and he called Mr. Engineer, who had been waiting for seven months, to have Dennis make something happen, so that he could again draw a paycheck. Mr. Engineer got in his car and drove toward Boston, and by Saturday, he was on the Great Plains, heading our way. As I recall, it was an initial $2,000 or so from that investor that allowed us to move into that house, and Dennis had just made a rent payment to the landlord with that money, and Mr. Engineer had been promised $500 per week to come work for us. I am trying to remember exactly what I was thinking at that moment. I really had little idea how Dennis was going to make things happen. I had not seen him perform his magic act of building an effort from nothing, and just wanted a front-row seat and be able to help. I certainly did not begrudge Mr. Engineer’s getting paid, and kept fasting. I was on day 36 of that fast, on Friday the 16th of January. I came home from work, Dennis came home late that evening, and I asked if I should quit that temp job and start helping him rebuild, and he said that the investor was getting cold feet, Dennis did not close the deal, and that I should keep working for the Kennedys, but that he would know more tomorrow. On Saturday morning, Dennis told me more of the details. That investor not only got cold feet (the magnitude of what Dennis aspired to scared that investor, who began fearing for his life if he got involved with Dennis), but he pulled a strange move. He gave Dennis a check for a couple thousand dollars as part of his initial investment (I believe that his first check allowed us to move into that house), and asked for one in return, as “security.” It was rather strange, but by Saturday, it became clear why he asked for that “security” check: he cashed it at Dennis’s bank. So the rent check and first check to Mr. Engineer were going to bounce, for starters, because of that investor’s betrayal, and Dennis was high and dry. Dennis was going to have to do some fast talking with the landlord (who lived on the property with us, in his own house) to keep a roof over our heads, and my paycheck would probably be all that kept food on the table (or juice ). As Dennis told me about what the investor had done, for the first time, I asked about the details of the deal that the investor had backed out on. Dennis said that the investor was going to put up $20K to be Dennis’s 50/50 partner. I had seen what Dennis had going in Seattle, and I worked for no paycheck in Seattle for months, for the promise of a tiny fraction of stock in the company. That investor would get half of what Dennis was going to build for $20K. Wow. We were all at home that Saturday, and Dennis later wrote in My Quest that he was so high and dry that that was when God always appeared with some miracle to bail him out, and Dennis really needed it then. I thought about that situation for a couple of hours, and then asked Dennis if there was any requirement for that investor, other than putting in $20K. Dennis replied that that was it. I then asked Dennis if I could become his partner if I invested $20K. Dennis later wrote that it was an effort to not laugh at me, a man who was fasting because it was cheaper than eating, and beginning to look skeletal. Little did I know it, but my life was about to radically change forever. Best, Wade

Hi: After seeing friends and family for a couple of weeks, meeting Seth, and getting some much needed maintenance and repair done on my 1973 Pinto wagon (which I had for 18 years, until a neighbor ran into it, parked in front of my condo, and wrecked it beyond repair; my wife witnessed the collision, and the policeman gave me a ticket, as if I was in the wrong, which I contested in court and won, for my life’s only legal “victory”), I drove from Ventura to Boston in four days. On Friday, about when I was driving through Oklahoma, Dennis was speaking at a Department of Energy (DOE) event in Boston. As I have stated plenty, Dennis was never “rebellious,” and mere months after being run out of his home state by the gangsters who run that state, there he was, trying to work with the DOE. The official who ran the DOE in New England actually came to one of our early Greatest Energy Shows, had the demeanor of a college professor, and politely asked Dennis during the audience Q&A when he thought that he could deliver free energy. Dennis, in his everlasting optimism, replied that he thought that it would take a year. At the Friday DOE meeting, a man approached Dennis after his speech and said that he worked at a company that made electricity from hot water. He invited Dennis to their company’s facilities. Friday night, I slept in my Pinto at a rest stop in Tennessee, and the next morning, I drove for 24 hours straight (not wanting to stop and sleep in my car anywhere near the East Coast), to arrive in Boston on Sunday morning. Dennis and his family were living with the family of a salesman from Seattle who got his family involved in the business. They were greenhorns who really had no business doing that. The house became a historical landmark, as it was the first solar home built in Massachusetts, in the 1950s, by a man who worked at MIT. He was the family patriarch, but his wife was the matriarch who ran the show, and their son was the former salesmen of Dennis’s. They mortgaged that house to get into the business, to the tune of about $250K. I reconstructed their books after I got there, just as I did for Dennis’s Seattle company, and discovered that before Dennis arrived, they had spent that $250K with nothing to show for it other than the remaining Seattle inventory that Dennis sold them. As soon as Dennis arrived, he began his usual routine, and they were instantly cash flowing (meaning that they were bringing in as much money as they spent), but they were full of New English arrogance and fought Dennis every step of the way, treating him like some wayward salesman. That was typical behavior. Dennis instantly saw that they were in way over their heads, and he doggedly tried to find a suitor to be his business partner, to buy them out and make them whole, but they fought Dennis the entire way and eventually went bankrupt, which was the standard story. At least a hundred companies came and went, trying to make a go of the LamCo heat pump, and they were one of the last of that line. Dennis is the only person who was ever successful, too successful. I arrived at that solar home at around 8:00 AM, and immediately met Dennis. He called me an “anathema.” He meant “enigma,” and that was an example of how his vocabulary could go a little awry, and it also reflected his migrant farmworker roots. I told him about the lightning bolt that hit me in Seattle, and told him of Mr. Mentor’s influence. I was an enigma alright, but the mystery was solved a couple of months later, when I became Dennis’s partner. I have written plenty about Dennis and Alison’s Christian ways, and won’t belabor them, but I doubt that I knew much about their Christianity until that morning. Alison took me into their bedroom, and on their dresser was a painting that somebody had recently done (maybe Dennis, as he is also an accomplished artist), which was a scene from the New Testament, when that healed leper returned in gratitude, and the painting had the caption, “And only one returned.” It was referring to me, the only person from Seattle who chased Dennis out to Boston. Little did I know it, but I was already passing into the folklore of Dennis’s journey. I really did not know what to make of it, but Dennis believes that his “God” acted through me several times during his journey. I call it my “friends,” and that voice never identified itself to me, I have not always been happy with it, but I continue to feel my “friends’” influence to this day, and it is far from easy to be “chosen” in that way. Whether I was an enigma, the one who returned, the boy hit by lighting, or whatever, it became very obvious how my “friends” were manipulating my life’s journey. The morning after I arrived in Boston, we put on our suits (I wore a suit-and-tie every day for the first dozen years of my career, until corporate America went “casual” in the mid-1990s, and this fat old man can no longer fit into those suits, and I dread the day that I would have to wear a suit again), and visited the company that made electricity out of hot water. Again, I did not even know how the heat pump worked yet, and while touring their company and watching their low-temperature turbine run was interesting, I had no idea what it meant, as far as our future went. As an aside, that company used river water as the condenser for their turbine, and their facility was almost certainly at the site of an early American watermill. I would not fully appreciate that until around the time that I wrote my big essay. That family that took Dennis’s family and me in had an office in Woburn (they lived in Lincoln), and that is where I spent some days reconstructing their books, and a few months earlier, some heiress took an interest in Dennis, and was going to be his “angel,” and Dennis told her his life’s story over a series of days, videotaped it, and held up document after document to support his story. I watched the tapes in that office, and for the first time really began to understand what I was getting involved with. Nearly 30 years later, I was the audience, as Dennis described the recent years of his adventures, as he laid document after document on me, treating me like a historian, which I suppose I am, in ways. After a couple of weeks of reconstructing those records, watching those tapes, playing chauffeur to Alison and her daughters (one vivid memory is driving Alison to her daughters’ school in freezing rain (the first time I had encountered such weather, being raised in Southern California)), as I learned to drive on snow and ice that winter, one evening, Dennis told me of his idea. That low-temperature turbine had an input temperature of about 200 degrees Fahrenheit, about the same temperature as the exhaust temperature of Dennis’s heat pump. Dennis told me that if he hooked up that turbine to his heat pump, that free energy was possible. That began our free energy odyssey. Best, Wade

Hi: As I drove out to Boston in late November of 1986, what had I learned since the fateful day when that voice told me to move to Seattle? For all that I had seen in my LA days, I was still a babe in the woods. When I met Dennis, I was little more than a year removed from my partner’s admission of how worthless my profession was, although that did not fully sink in until 1988, when the issue had become a full-blown scandal, the first of several that I have now lived through and generally saw coming, with more on the way. I subscribed to the Christian Science Monitor in my LA days, to complement my daily reading of the Los Angeles Times, thinking that I was digesting some high-brow, thoughtful, information. After being with Dennis for only a few weeks, I saw that lying TV segment, but I was still so green that I did not begin to appreciate what a Big Lie that news segment was until later, when I began to learn the history of that heat pump and Dennis’s involvement. Dennis actually testified in Washington D.C. about Carter’s tax credit’s lack of performance requirements, and he was appointed to a committee to write a better law. So, that TV segment was in the Big Lie category and a very consciously lying effort, not just sloppy journalism. They ignored the 99.9% of the buyers who got their tax credit because they followed Dennis’s instructions, found one idiot who didn’t do it right, was initially denied, and he became their sole example of why the heat pump was a scam and did not qualify for the credit. That news segment was criminally libelous, and the first of many like it that attacked Dennis for many years afterward, which included several nationally televised shows. Dennis had told me some of what Bill the BPA Hit Man had done, and Colleen Smith’s death deeply affected Dennis. But I did not really begin to understand Bill’s involvement until later, when I began to learn what I had missed in 1985. Bill is a corporate hit man who protects the rackets, is active to this day, and killing people just comes with the job and might earn him some bonus money. That the legal system not only protected him during his crime sprees, but was his active accomplice in committing more by using the legal system as a weapon, which even extended to the federal court in Seattle, was not something that I learned until much later. I witnessed plenty of events in Seattle, but did not understand their full meaning. That is not unusual, and I have encountered many witnesses to historic events who really did not understand what was happening, as they did not see the bigger picture. When I put together Dennis’s books in Seattle and signed an affidavit about what I did, I had no idea that I had history in my hands, or that to this day I would write about the many shameless people who blatantly lie about those days, people who are big names. I learned many lessons in Seattle, but was really just getting a taste and gentle preview of what was ahead of me. What you could not have convinced me of during my first weeks with Dennis was the very people that I worked with would not only help engineer the theft of Dennis’s company, but that most of the others cheered the theft. To top it off, when there were only about ten of us “loyalists” left after the company was stolen, you could not have convinced me that not only was I the only one left by the end of the next month, but that only two of those “loyalists” dropped out with honor, and several of them tried to extort money from us the next year, led by Mr. Inventor. Those were the eye-opening events of my days in Seattle, when I began to learn that personal integrity was the world’s scarcest commodity. That was the chief lesson and booby prize of my journey, and I resisted it every step of the way. While driving to Boston, I had just finished the best hiking year of my life (I am going hiking in less than an hour, and will do it until I can’t do it anymore, which I hope is at least 30 years away), and I was still in the happiest year of my life, and that would continue until after our first series of Greatest Energy Shows on Earth had ended. After those halcyonic days, it began to get very dark. By the end of 1988, I had reached the nadir of my life’s journey, but that was all ahead of me, and as I drove to Seattle in March 1986, or drove to Boston in November 1986, you could have never convinced me of what was ahead for me. As I drove out to Boston, I still did not even know how the heat pump worked. I had been hit by the lightning, was sold on Dennis, and was chasing my dream. Best, Wade

Hi: This post will be about my exit from Seattle to chase Dennis. The biggest run at alternative energy in the USA’s history was over. Nothing like what Dennis did in Seattle has been tried before or since, especially to the extent that a corrupt industry mobilized all of its resources to wipe out the threat. I did not learn many of the lessons of Dennis’s Seattle experience until years later, partly because I missed most of the fireworks and came in on the end of it. To me, what Dennis did in Seattle and earlier, when he got involved with the LamCo heat pump, was his most interesting work, with what came after it less so. To be sure, chasing FE is no small beer, but in Seattle, Dennis was putting equipment on the market, which no FE scientist/inventor/businessman has ever come close to doing. Dennis’s Seattle experience can provide many lessons, for those able and willing to learn from them. As we will also see in Boston and Ventura, there were never any complaining customers of note in Seattle (“We’ll put the world’s best heating system on your home for free” – nobody complained about installation delays). The “consumer protection” laws and their enforcement are there to protect the rackets, not the consumers. That is how dark pathers operate, posing as beings of the light, and most people are easily sucked in, played like violins, as their self-interest, naïveté, gullibility, and other deficits are exploited (naiveté can be cured through experience, but not most of the other deficits, at least in the same lifetime). What I saw in Seattle was only a gentle preview. As I have noted, Dennis’s memory is not as good as mine, and more than once, I had to quote from his own writings to remind him of how he saw things in the past, as he would develop a somewhat creative memory of events. One of those areas was regarding the theft of his Seattle company. When Southwick and pals stole Dennis’s company, in a way, Dennis was relieved. Dennis later denied that to me, and I had to point him to his own book, My Quest, and his own words, to remind him how he felt in those days. The gangsters in Washington would make sure that nothing that Dennis did in Seattle would come to fruition, as they would continue to attack his efforts (and they have to this day, incredibly). When Dennis was finally run out of his home state, with nothing but the clothes on his back, from a $50 million net worth less than a year earlier, he felt liberated, leaving Seattle with nothing, just as he arrived less than two years previously. Because Mr. Financier also had his company stolen before they stole Dennis’s, and the stock that Mr. Financier gave Dennis for that house was valid, Southwick and pals almost certainly feasted on Dennis’s house in Bellevue, among their other depredations. In Boston, I questioned Dennis about leaving everything behind like that, and he replied that it would have been a nightmarish battle to retain any of it, not to mention the attacks from the electric companies’ minions, so it was better to just walk away from all of it. He wished the thieves well, as they would have to settle up with God one day, and staying right with God has been at the top of Dennis’s priorities since that voice first spoke to him. In December 1985, Dennis had hundreds of employees, as they heroically got those systems installed by year-end (and Dennis survived at least one murder attempt back then, which was partly why he had a bodyguard when I met him (along with the death threats)). By August of 1986, I was the only one left who wanted to be involved with Dennis, to extent of chasing him across a continent. I was flat broke by the time that I convinced Dennis to let me chase after him, and had to move back in with my grandparents, get a temporary job (making a whole $6 per hour), to save up enough money to chase Dennis across the continent. And here is where my “friends” twisted in their daggers one last time. Leaving Seattle to chase after Dennis was about the hardest thing I ever did. Moving there, when the voice told me to, was my fourth attempt to live in Seattle in the previous six years. Instead of going to work for Microsoft, which I have little doubt that I could have done, as they did their IPO (and I would have become fabulously rich before long), I starved and chased my teenage dream. It was the first time that I passed up big money to chase my dream, and I have had five such episodes now, but I have no regrets. So, there I was in Seattle, my Shangri-La, and now I was getting ready to leave it, to chase that dream, and I was still reverberating from the lightning bolt. When I met Dennis, I soon moved out from my grandparents’ home and lived in the Eastlake District. My roommate was an aspiring writer, who moved to LA a few years later and never left. I am a character in one of his books. He had a writing partner, and he mentioned his partner’s roommate often enough, named Kate (not her real name), who also lived in one of Seattle’s many charming neighborhoods. When Dennis finally told me that I could chase him, after trying to dissuade me, I was broke, had to move back in with my grandparents, and got that temporary job at an insurance company’s headquarters, in a high-rise building that perhaps a thousand people worked at. My roommate told me that Kate worked there, and that I should look her up. There I was, working as a temp, to save up enough money to chase after Dennis, and the last thing that I needed to do was look up Kate, and I never did something like that, anyway, being the introverted nerd that I am. But I worked on the sixth floor or so (I was doing some system design and implementation for them), and when I had to visit one of my colleagues on that project, I had to go to the basement, and in a cubicle that I walked past sat a woman who looked kind of like that girl that I had a crush on in high school. About once a week, I passed by her cubicle, and of the thousand people in that building, I was attracted to that woman in the cubicle, whose name was Kate. After I had been there a couple of months, I visited my old roommate (we stay in touch to this day, and I helped support him at times, in his starving LA days, and that is another story), and he asked if I had looked up his partner’s roommate Kate. The woman in that cubicle was that Kate! Do you want to name those odds? It blew me away. Kate used to work for my supervisor at that insurance company, my roommate told his partner, and a day or two later, my supervisor was introducing me to Kate at my desk. I was about a month away from chasing after Dennis, and Kate and I had lunch one day, about two weeks before I left. I was leaving. As I look back, I guess that we were feeling each other out, but in my conscious mind, although I was attracted to her, I was just having a friendly lunch with somebody in my extended circle (I came to know my roommate’s writing partner, as he came over to our apartment regularly, we played basketball together, watched movies together, and the like), and getting ready to leave town. Maybe she would become a friend (I have had many platonic relationships with women over the years). I spent that autumn storing my few belongings in my grandmother’s basement in Bellingham, and made more than one trip to Ellensburg to Mr. Engineer’s barn. That beat up station wagon that Dennis drove over the Cascades in two years earlier was in that barn, and in that car (which we brought to Ventura, by the way) held Dennis and Alison’s few meager possessions. I retrieved some clothing, the records that I wheedled away from the Mormon “loyalist,” and Alison’s most prized possession, her guitar. When all was in readiness, I rented a trailer from U-Haul, and on Halloween (October 31), a Friday that year, I planned to drive from Seattle to Boston, towing that trailer behind my Pinto wagon. I went home to Ventura to get my car maintained, see friends (and I met Seth during those two weeks). My roommate and his partner were performing a comedy routine at a club that evening (they produced a comedy pilot show the next year), and I was invited to be there, as was Kate, but I had my date with destiny, wished them the best, and went and rented my trailer. However, there was a small problem. I was planning on attaching the trailer to my car’s fender, but the U-Haul store said that it would not work and would be dangerous (as it would rip my fender off, especially for a cross-continental trip), and they would have to weld a mount onto my car’s frame to hold that trailer. They could not do it on that Friday afternoon, and I would have to come back on Monday. Having that hitch attached drained most of my travel fund (I also had to get work in Boston to pay some bills incurred on that move, such as renting that trailer), but I was free to attend my roommate’s show that evening, and you can imagine the rest. I sat at the same table as Kate, we went to her home after the show, and I spent the entire weekend with her, and drove from Seattle on Monday evening in tears, with my heart torn out. It may have been the hardest thing that I ever did. That was one of the most spectacular manipulations from my “friends,” and I see it today as their final “test” for me (like rescuing that hooker was a test before meeting Dennis). Colleen Smith killed herself, with Bill’s help, on Halloween of the previous year. It was events like that that made me more than a little unhappy with my “friends,” as they continually threw events like that at me, seemingly to see what I would do. They could also “reward” me, but far more often they were tests that came before very traumatic events. It is not fun to be “chosen” this way, and I am a little tired of those manipulations, but I can also tell that they are not finished with me. I have no doubt that the Kate situation was one of those astral plane “mating agreements” and a final test of my resolve before I chased after Dennis. I could have canceled my plans, stayed in Seattle, and married Kate. I think about that, and it was like being tempted by the devil. It would have likely ended badly with Kate, and what was about to happen never would have. Of course, I told Kate that I would try to make a bi-coastal relationship work, and she wisely ended it. I had a bi-coastal marriage a decade later, also because of Dennis, and those days are like a bad dream to me today. But on that Monday, in tears, I left Seattle to chase a crazy teenage dream. If you had told me what I was in for, I would have never believed it. Best, Wade

Hi: A post in another forum spurred a reply that is appropriate for the current series of posts. Here it is. Hi Adam: On Mr. Young Engineer’s balance point exercise, it allows me to get a little technical. Dennis was completely correct that Mr. Young Engineer’s balance point presentation would be meaningless as a customer presentation. For systems engineering, balance point exercises can be useful, but homeowners only wanted to know if they would save money, and Dennis’s Systems for Savings program took away even that concern. Not only was the entire thrust of Mr. Young Engineer’s balance point exercise misguided, but he also did it incompetently. I don’t plan to write a series of posts like this again, and am taking the opportunity to put in more documentation, especially test results. Mr Young Engineer’s test results that I recently added is Exhibit 1 for the point I am about to make. If you look at his stats, he mentioned cloudy and 68 degrees ambient for the test. But if you look at those test results that I added for that Arizona lab, you can see that the COP varied with the panel angle, and they also gave the wind velocity. Back in 2014, I added the rest results from one of the most famous tests of that equipment, and you can see the COP doubling in the daytime. The panel’s absorption of direct solar radiation gets photon energy to the inside of the panel, where the refrigerant absorbs it, and is independent of air temperature. Also, the more photons, the greater the absorption, which is why that Arizona lab’s data varied with panel angle, as more photons will hit the panel the better that it faces the Sun. That is why high noon is the hottest part of the day. That is why many flowers follow the Sun as it crosses the sky. Also, wind increases the heat exchange, and the faster the wind, the greater the performance boost. There are also other performance variables, and Mr. Young Engineer did not put any of them into his model, but just had ambient air temperature. It was just another reflection of how ignorant he was. He was about my age, not long out of college, and when Dennis walked into that bank’s factory, and Mr. Young Engineer was building the systems based on the original LamCo patent, and had his nose in his textbooks, Dennis had to shake his head. Dennis eventually hired Mr. Young Engineer, but Dennis was constantly trying to educate him. If you studied the system and why it performed so highly, one measure was the gas pressure coming from the panels. It was twice as high as normal refrigeration systems or heat pumps, which is why its output was twice the BTUs that the components were rated for. To Mr. Young Engineer, that doubled pressure was not the secret of its success, but a danger to the system, so he put in a valve to reduce the pressure coming from the panels. That was going to kill the system performance. Mr. Young Engineer would happily destroy thousands of dollars of energy savings to reduce the load on the compressor (gas pump). It was that kind of stupidity that Dennis had to fight with Mr. Young Engineer, as Dennis had to reverse his ignorant design decisions. The epitome of Mr. Young Engineer’s many mental blocks was when he testified that a four horsepower system could not generate more than 48,000 BTUs an hour, and then was shown his own test results showing a performance of double that. That is how stuck in his textbooks he was, unable to think past them, even with test results in hand that he performed. That illustrates what Mr. Mentor told me long ago, in that the vast majority of engineers are plodders, without any creative ability or insight. They can be given a bunch of equations to crank out, but don’t ask them to think very deeply about the exercise that they were given, or the meaning of the numbers, or come up with an original idea, because they will be unable to. Only about 1-2% of engineers really have much creative talent, the kind that invents. As Bucky Fuller noted, only one-in-100,000 technically trained people will make the technological breakthroughs that move humanity forward, but that they will be enough. And this is part of the free energy (FE) conundrum: very few technical types are going to independently stumble into FE technology, and they are easy to take care of, one-at-time, working in their labs, garages, and workshops, trying to get rich and famous, etc. Godzilla’s bag of tricks has easily kept that threat at bay. The same paths of failure have been doggedly pursued by FE inventors and scientists for about a century, with each one being either ignorant of the fates of his/her professional ancestors, or their egos have deluded them that they somehow have something the others didn’t, which will see them succeed when tens of thousands of others failed. It is like those young men about to go into battle. Anyway, thanks for bringing up your balance point exercise, which I am sure was highly useful, unlike Mr. Young Engineer’s exercise. Best, Wade

Hi: I am working long hours, which will last for at least the next few weeks, so my postings are going to be relatively terse. I don’t have the time this morning for the post I would like to write, so it will be one of the observations on my list that I planned to make, which I will expand on later. When I chased Dennis out to Boston, I did not even know how the heat pump worked, but I learned fast, and a couple of months later, when I became his partner, the magnitude of what we had stumbled into and pursued began to become evident, which challenged my ego. We soon drew Godzilla’s full attention, beginning with the friendly buyout offer, and a couple of zeroes were added the next year, before we had the boom lowered on us. When the dust cleared a couple of years later, I hit the books, and a dozen years later (with about four years devoted full-time to the effort), I created my site as it largely stands today (the major essays, other than my big one, were all written by then), but that was before I encountered Bucky Fuller, when the paradigm that I had been groping toward for many years finally crystallized. It took another dozen years before I was able to complete the studies that resulted in my big essay, and align the rest of my site with it. I’ll be updating that essay, like a college textbook, for probably the rest of my life. But it was not until about five years ago that the truly Epochal significance of FE began to become clear to me. That is how long it took me to really begin to get it, so I am sympathetic to people who encounter my work and say, “Energy, so what?” But, if they are not willing to do the work to learn, “Energy, so everything,” then they are not who I am looking for. I am not judging those who walk away, in various levels of denial and disinterest, or even those who go on the offensive, as they defend their in-group and worldview from the perceived affront of my work. They will begin to wake up when FE is delivered into their lives, along with the rest of humanity. I seek those who can help, and I know that they will be needles in haystacks, and they will need my help, at first, so that what I am saying really begins to sink in. Imagining the next Epoch before it arrives, as a way to help it arrive, has never been done before in the human journey, and it won’t be easy. Best, Wade

Hi: Again, this series is written with those I seek in mind. This will be more on how my “friends” messed with me on my journey, and many of the most blatant manipulations were with the women in my life. I recognized several of those “mating arrangements” for my lifetime, as my “friends” careened me into them, or them into me. For the most part, it was not fun, and the source of a great deal of pain. As I have written plenty, I am in the autism spectrum, closer to normal than Bill Gates, for instance, who likely has Asperger’s. It is likely that Newton and Einstein had it, too, or something close, as have some of the greatest minds I have personally known. Being social misfits also generally comes with that territory. If I did not have world-class athletic talent, and was not one of those tall Nordic types (the Hitlerian ideal ), I would have been a classic nerd. Being raised in a Southern California beach town, and then living in LA to begin my career, I grew up around some of the world’s most beautiful women, and most of the women in my life, for those “mating arrangements,” were babes with a capital B. Not quite at the Derek Jeter level (that dog), but up there. My first crush in high school was the homecoming princess the next year. I acted like such a nerd with her, and she quickly got rid of me. A year later, I had my first girlfriend, and we were together two years. She was a classic beauty, I chased her to the university where she promptly dumped me, and we never had sex. That year in the dorms, with her literally on the floor below me, dating other guys, who I would see her with, was perhaps my life’s most emotionally trying year, but I became friends for life with my roommates, and I am not going to lament the path that chasing her sent me on. I put my head down, hit the books, and got straight A’s that year. I took my track career seriously for the first time, and performed the best I ever did, although an injury and other issues, and even those seemed orchestrated by my “friends,” held me back from becoming world class in my event. I could have been, with the proper dedication, training, and coaching. I had the talent for it, but talent alone is not enough, not at those levels. I saw the obsessive focus that world class athletes usually had, and I had that focus, but I had too much else happening in my life. One of my brothers grinded toddler girls when he was two years old, became sexually active at age 13, and lived a life of sex, drugs, surfing, and rock and roll, almost like Jeff Spicoli did. My two best childhood friends became sexually active around 16, even became hypersexual at times, while I lived like a monk, with my mystical and academic studies. In college, one of them had a girlfriend who was a track star, cheerleader, and capital B babe. He treated her terribly, cheated on her all the time, and all of our friends hit on her, thinking that she was “available.” I was his only friend who didn’t, and in that year after my girlfriend dumped me at the university, she began throwing herself at me. I tried to warn my friend of what was happening, and after nearly a year of that, I broke down and lost my virginity with her, at age 22, for my life’s greatest crime. A few days later, I got the back injury that I still have today and will until I die, which is at the emotions chakra, and I don’t doubt the connection. I eventually confessed to my friend, it wrecked our friendship (I later asked her to marry me, but she had already gotten involved with somebody else), and I never had sex again until I was nearly 30 and met the woman who would become my wife. I never cared about my appearance, other than being professionally presentable, drove a Pinto wagon for 18 years, have had the same haircut since I left home (my mother cut it while growing up, in a bowl cut, and my clothes came from the swap meet, and I wear clothes until they begin falling apart, and my prized possessions are usually patched, repaired, and pathetically dog-eared). But I was a tall, Nordic athletic type, nerd that I was, and I get told regularly that I am handsome, but I never cared, and especially now, as I become an old man, when I still get told how handsome I am, and my wife tells me that women regularly “check me out.” As I look back at it, women hit on me regularly, even threw themselves at me at times, and I rarely responded. Heck, most of the time I didn’t even get it. I got calls in the night from secret admirers, etc., but I never played the game how they wanted me to, and those encounters never went anywhere. Sometimes I got it, but could see that I was being lined up to be somebody’s meal ticket, and I avoided that like the plague, especially in my LA days. But several times, I could tell that my “friends” were setting me up, and as I thought about writing this post, even more connections became evident. For instance, when my girlfriend dumped me a week after we arrived at the university, classes began a couple of days later, and that first day of class at the university, I was in that class taught by an ex-CIA analyst. It was a different classroom layout, in which we sat four to a table. Sitting at the table with me was a woman who became my girlfriend six years later in LA, and that was the ex-girlfriend who became my smallest investor who began attacking me soon after I became Dennis’s partner. Like my best friend’s girlfriend, that woman threw herself at me for nearly a year before I did anything about it, and she was also a babe with a capital B, and I mean beauty queen material. I had friends tell me that she was throwing herself at me, even a woman friend did that, and what the heck was I waiting for? The girlfriends that I had before meeting my wife, after that first girlfriend, were mostly babes, and the relationships never lasted long. They usually ended painfully, with the woman ending it. I loved them all and still do, but they were not to be. I certainly own that checkered love life, before I met my wife, but my “friends” began to get very active during my days with Dennis, seeming to tempt and test me, to eventually reward me. Again, I felt like a rat in a maze at times, being given a whiff of cheese, to then have it taken away and put in a tantalizing spot, if I would only climb for it. I can’t say that I recommend that path, but it was the one put in front of me, those bastards. Best, Wade

Hi: What became evident very early in my journey with Dennis was that he documented his journey as well as he could, moving as fast as he did. I have recounted already more than once when Dennis had almost everything stolen from him, even records that represented years of his work and adventures, but he retained enough of it over the years to adequately document his tale. He is also aware of the fallibility of human memory, his included, and the morning after the raid, for instance, he had everybody at the company write a statement of what they did and saw during the raid. Some statements of events he could not get until years later, such as Mr. Financier’s, and quite a few he got soon after Mr. Professor and I busted him from jail, such as his sales assistant’s (when people overcame their fear enough, when we had people such as Mr. Deputy on the run, to come forward). Dennis’s memory is pretty good, and the events in his life were often so emotionally charged that they left indelible imprints in his memory, although his life had so many that I noticed that he would sometimes blur the details many years later. Then, I would obtain the documentation, often in his books, and see that he was not quite remembering it accurately, but it was close enough. His recall could be uncanny, as good as mine, for some events (especially with things like facial expressions), but I often noticed that he would not quite recall the events accurately. For instance, when I last saw him, he said that he was going to be killed the same day as that commissioner of the prison reform system arrived at his prison, and he begged her to get him out of the shark tank, which had already pronounced his death sentence. That did not sound quite right to me, and I looked it up in his The Alternative. That conversation was held with an official at that prison, who was going to send Dennis to certain death if he put him back into that situation. It was some weeks later, after the crisis had passed (which likely inspired Alison to write that letter to the commissioner), that the prison reform commissioner arrived at his prison, which spooked the prison officials to the degree that Dennis was soon sent to a minimum security prison in the same town where I went to college, near the beach, and he served out the rest of his sentence in relative bliss. So, Dennis’s memory was close, but he would understandably sometimes conflate events that were close together, while not losing the gist of the situation. I have talked with highly trusted associates around Dennis (there have never been many, but we know each other), and we have shared that Dennis’s memory could get a little creative, embellishing events a bit. Often, it was like an impressionist painting: the overall picture was accurate, if a little idealized, and the strokes might be a little too broad. Dennis would also stretch things in the bluster of his pitching (and I let him know about it), but when it came time to render these events in his books, I found his accounts to be pretty accurate, even conservative, for events that I also witnessed or participated in. I write this to point out that Dennis is a fallible human, with a fallible memory, but it is still pretty good, better than 99% of the population. However, I have never given Dennis a free ride, and will do my historian’s duty and check out the facts that I can. I have seen people call the documentation in Dennis’s books “alleged,” while making inane excuses for Mr. Skeptic’s pathological lying. That is one of the surreal aspects of my journey, as easily proven Big Lies are given a free pass, while solid documentation is dismissed as “alleged.” The media operates that way, too. So, the closer to the events that I heard Dennis talk about, the more weight I give it, and give less weight to his memories of events decades earlier. My memory is not perfect, either, but it is better than Dennis’s. I only know one person whose memory is better than mine, and his is incredible. He says that he can no longer do it, but until he got to about age 60, you could pick any day on the calendar of the previous 50 years of his life, and he could tell you what he did that day, in a fair amount of detail. I have witnessed his memory in action, as have others around me, and it is amazing. He is the dean of a college at a university, and in a lecture hall of hundreds, by the end of the first week of class, he would know the names of all of his students, and not because of those memory tricks that some media figures taught, but just because it sticks in his brain that way. My memory is not nearly that good, but I have what is called an eidetic memory. It is not perfect, but I have revisited places a decade later, such as mountain passes, and I would find that my recall was not perfect, but pretty close. I can still see pages in my mind’s eye of college textbooks that I studied, and I still have the textbooks, and I can open them and compare them to my memories, and find how close those they were. They are always pretty close, even to the part of the page they were on (left page, near the bottom, for instance). I continually go to my 2,000-volume library, looking for a quote or piece of information germane to what I am writing about, and more often than not, I quickly find it, and I have almost never come up empty, although a few times I have to revisit the stacks more than once, over a course of months or even years, before I found what I was looking for. I have been tested on my memory, such as in a random test that I was cajoled into as I walked through a mall, for some marketing effort (it was a Muppet advertisement – this was about 30 years ago), and the tester was amazed at my recall of what she made me watch, and I was one of hundreds who she administered that test to. That kind of memory runs in my family, so is one of my hereditary “gifts,” but it could also be called a curse. Over the past decade or so, I have consciously recalled my actions that were less than noble and kind of wallowed in them. It do not do it as some form of self-punishment, but to learn to let go of the judgment, to forgive myself (apologize, if I am in position to), and do better next time, which is a key purpose of our memories, IMO. My life is almost entirely free of badly wounding somebody else, the kind that creates karmic ribbons, as I always avoided that to the best that I could (a common trait of Old Souls, who are busy repaying karma, not digging new karmic holes to climb out of). My life review is not going to be like Dannion Brinkley’s, for instance, so the process is not that agonizing, and sometimes I can even come to an appreciation of the mess I made. That summer of 1986 was my life’s happiest, even though I starved and was getting sobered up about what chasing my dreams entailed. I don’t want to get too far into it, but there are generally two mystical poles of thought that I have noticed over the years, which cover a wide spectrum of views, but the two poles are these: everything is either in divine order, or everything in physical reality is some kind of mistake. None of the mystical schools of thought call it an accident, like materialists do, but I have found the “mistake” camp to generally be addicted to the victim’s perspective, and they say stuff like physical reality is a grave error and not part of the Creator’s plan, that we have been enslaved here by malevolent entities, and the like, and that when you reach the tunnel of light when you die, to run the other way. There is a large body of mystical material on those themes, and I believe that their perspectives are distorted by the rigors of physical reality. The Creator does have plenty to answer for, as it is responsible for all of Creation, but there is no good and bad at the Creator’s level of awareness, so it seems. It is all good, and all paths from the Godhead lead back to it, and really, nobody ever really left home. But that is not easy to see from here, I readily admit. But the mystical sources that I respect the most make no bones about how cruel physical reality is. Being here is not easy, but the “divine order” camp sees physical reality as a school that souls choose to come to, for faster growth. Can I prove any of that? No. Can anybody else? No. We all see through the glass dimly here, and I am wary of anybody who makes bald assertions of what the other side is like, and am especially wary of the “run from the light” advice that abounds among the “mistake” camp. We will all see when we go there, and my experiences, along with vast study over more than 40 years, makes me resonate with material such as Seth’s, Michael’s, Ra’s, and friends, and I don’t consider accounts such Michael Roads’s to be fiction. I know highly accomplished psychonauts who have made similar journeys, and they then bring back earth-shaking inventions with them (to only be suppressed or stolen, of course ). The “mistake” camp includes the A Course in Miracles crowd, the “bad aliens run the show on Earth” crowd, the “negatives run the show in physical reality” crowd, and so on, and I take their “information” and advice with a grain of salt. I never saw any of them do anything in the least bit productive, but they usually wallowed in their victim-ness, often joined cults, and the like. There is a huge New Age faction in that camp, and they think that they have the “realistic” perspective, but I doubt it. After more than 40 years of adventures and study after my mystical awakening, I know this: love is the most powerful force in our universe. I have seen it work “miracles,” and I believe that we are in school here on Earth, growing our souls, but what an agonizing way to grow, and I plan to have a little chat with whoever sent me here, stripped of my memories, when I pass over. That will be the first order of business. So, squaring the cruelty of this dimension with a loving Creator is the paradox of the ages, and I am sympathetic to materialist rejections of all mystical philosophies, even though I know that those materialists are wrong. My experiences taught me better, and my FE fellow travelers with my greatest respect all had mystical awakenings, generally as young adults, from around 16 to early 20s. Brian was a relative old man, not getting his until he was nearly 40, but once he did, he was ruined as a mainstream scientist, as he could no longer drink the Kool-Aid of this Epoch’s religion. I did not know that my life was guided until that voice first spoke to me, in response to my life’s first desperate prayer. When it came through the second time, it only reinforced that notion, and they were only the most salient events in a sea of them, which popped out above the others like icebergs, and like icebergs, I knew that there was far more than met the eye to them. Materialism is merely another religion erected on a false foundation. With the preposterous events of my journey, which even I have a hard time believing at times, I have long accepted that I came here on some sort of special assignment. I don’t know exactly what that assignment was, but I like to think that the efforts of my lifetime have been performing it, with karmic detours along the way. The mystical view that I have long believed is that a soul decides to incarnate, and essentially sketches out a life to be lived. The life is planned with many contingencies and opportunities, and then the life begins. Physical reality is where sh*t happens, and the soul’s best laid plans on the astral plane easily can go awry once the life begins in physical reality. That is part of the deal. There are no guarantees. The soul can try to shepherd the earthly personality, giving hints and help, but it is up to the earthly personality to live it out. We have free will, and life here is all about having it, living it, and dealing with the consequences for more than a 100 lifetimes, on average, until the soul gets what it came for. I could well be wrong, but I see it today as working something like that. And when you are on special assignment, the help, hints, and challenges are simply magnified, as befits the soul’s task for a certain lifetime. I believe that this is the lifetime that I have been training for, for perhaps more than 150 lifetimes, and I have likely messed up spectacularly along the way, as part of how my soul grew and learned. That is easy for my soul to say, greedy bastard that it is, eager for experience. One primary set of contingencies that souls set up are mating potentials, for our sexually reproducing ensouled species, and according to sources that I respect, a soul can make more than a dozen mating arrangements for a lifetime from the astral plane, and how many, if any, are realized in a lifetime depends on how the personalities live their lives. Mates and offspring are not random relationships, but carefully chosen, by the involved souls. And my views certainly did not purely come from a literature review, but by potential mating relationships that were presented to me (more like thrust on me), in ways that were every bit as larger-than-life as that voice in my head, and those “opportunities” were often presented to me in the most pivotal times of my life, so spectacularly at times that I knew that my “friends” were once again “messing” with me. To be “chosen” this way is a very mixed blessing, let me tell you. There have been times when Dennis, Brian, and I have wished that we could let our paths go, and somebody else could do it, but when we looked around, there was really nobody else who could. Plenty of pretenders and aspirants said that they could, but they nearly invariably tried to wreck what we were building (either intentionally or out of ignorance and being in thrall to their particular delusions), so we often reluctantly picked the burden back up and carried it, and it could seem like a boulder at times, and seemed like they could reach planetary size in ways. This post is a prelude to relating some of those bizarre events in more detail than I have publicly done before. Best, Wade

Hi: Before I continue with chores to begin a very busy week, I am going to cut to the chase a little and get to some of my conclusions, which should not be surprising to my longtime readers. I am continually fielding observations and questions that clearly show that people do not yet understand my message, and I would have thought that they would at least begin to. I see as them being trapped in their Epochal conditioning, and truly not capable of comprehending what I am writing about, and it is a great way for me to work on my patience issues! A primary reason for my writings about Dennis’s journey and what I learned on mine is to show that the businessman’s/inventor’s path to FE has been tried, repeatedly, by the best of the best. That path simply will not work, primarily because capitalism is based on greed and fear. The people who really run the world are masters of that game and almost effortlessly defeat the self-interested, if they even need to lift a finger before the efforts self-destruct in orgies of greed and fear. The people that I seek are less than one-in-a-thousand in the general population, and maybe far less, but my plan can work with one-in-a-million. As I wrote this post, I received an email from some scientists/inventors who are chasing after FE and trying to enlist my interest/assistance, as they doggedly pursue the same paths that I realized were completely futile many years ago. These guys have been at it for decades, and they will never get anywhere. Part of me is amazed that I keep getting those kinds of entreaties. They don’t even begin to understand how the land truly lies on planet Earth. I carried the spears of the best of the best for several mass movement attempts, and they won’t work for the same reason why the businessman’s approach will not work: personal integrity is the world’s scarcest commodity, and the average person does not possess nearly enough of it to be playing on the high road to FE. They generally don’t last more than ten minutes or so. All of the betrayals and evil deeds that we encountered on our journeys were just encountering what The Universal People are like. People’s egos do not like to admit it, but what we encountered was actually normal. In a world of scarcity and fear, people rarely see beyond the horizons of their immediate self-interest, and they are almost effortlessly manipulated by the dark pathers who rule the world, if they ever do anything that might upset the evil applecart. Dennis has yet to relinquish his delusions around his religion, the virtues of The People, and other aspects of his awareness and resultant approach. He will likely take them to his grave, and that is OK. They may seem to diminish his greatness, but in other ways, they emphasize it, in that he was able to come so far from where he began, still lugging along the baggage that he does. People constantly approach me with stories of the “bad guys,” and at New Age/conspiracist venues, instead of the devil or psychopaths making people do it, it is the ETs or inter-dimensionals. They are simply banging the same victim drums, with the “bad guys” wearing different costumes. As Brian once said, it is about what the good guys do, not what the bad guys do. People who think like victims focus on the “bad guys,” while those who think like creators focus on what the “good guys” can do, and creators create with love. I know that if I can find and train that choir, what the “bad guys” do truly won’t matter, even if they are on the right hand of God. We all face the consequences of our actions, as that is the nature of our journey. People who constantly harp on the “bad guys” are defending their victim-oriented perspectives of their lives. That is one way to do it, but I have yet to see that approach leading anywhere near enlightenment, and it usually leads to paranoia and other mental problems. It also does no good to judge The Universal People for our egocentric ways. It is just what it is, and I don’t expect the masses to be anything other than what they are, but I am also not seeking their help. I seek extraordinary people and know it, and we will see what kind of dent I can make in the rest of my life’s “spare” time. Best, Wade

Hi: That summer of 1986 was the best hiking summer of my life, while I was in professional limbo and starving financially. When the loyalists began to break up, I had less than $1,000 left of my yuppie nest egg that I arrived with in Seattle from my LA days. I offered what was left of my nearly depleted nest egg to some other loyalists who wanted to drop out, Mr. Installer in particular. When I think that he pretty much did not miss a paycheck the whole time, I smile at my naïveté, and to his credit, he did not take my money. About a month after Dennis left the state, he sent back about $1,000 that he essentially begged from a business associate in Chicago (on his way to Boston), and we gave it to Mr. Engineer, as he made it very clear that he needed the money. When I raised the money to become Dennis’s partner, Mr. Installer and Mr. Engineer were the first two people that we hired, and Mr. Engineer lived with us in Boston for several months. I was friendly with all of the loyalists, became friends with some of them, but they dropped out, one-by-one, until I was the only one left. Mr. Inventor in particular befriended me (with my inventor-mentor past), and when Dick Southwick and friends had raped the carcass of Dennis’s company for all that they could and then disappeared, Mr. Inventor asked me to accompany him with the police when they finally got access back into the company’s building. We could not fit all of Mr. Inventor’s equipment onto that truck, to put into Mr. Engineer’s barn. When we accessed the part of the facility where Mr. Inventor’s remaining equipment and office were, it had all predictably been ransacked, with the looted office and equipment strewn across the floor. Mr. Inventor had that stricken look that morning, and he developed a deep hatred for Southwick, Mr. Controller, and friends. He said that he would sue the hell out of them, but I doubt that he did. I wrote a vignette on Mr. Inventor, so don’t need to belabor it, but when I interviewed with Dennis’s company, I thought that inventors were heroes, and bowled Mr. Controller over with my enthusiasm. But that summer of 1986 is when I began to realize that maybe inventors weren’t so heroic after all, and Mr. Inventor told me that inventors’ organizations were never successful, primarily because every inventor tried to commandeer the organization into supporting his invention. Inventors’ groups were little more than forms of “display” as every inventor tried to become the Alpha Inventor. But their lack of personal integrity was something that I had to learn the hard way, and Mr. Inventor was ironically the person who began to demonstrate it to me. After I arrived in Boston, Dennis asked me to contact Mr. Inventor, to get him involved with us again, and it was painful phone call, with Mr. Inventor almost yelling, “Show me the money!” Frankly, the heat storage technology that Mr. Inventor developed was pretty useless for a free energy attempt, and Dennis was trying to get Mr. Inventor involved again largely as a favor and to make up for what happened in Seattle. It was shocking and sad to witness Mr. Inventor’s reaction to Dennis’s offer, and that was when I began to wise up to inventors. Not only was I friendly with the loyalists, I was even still friendly with Mr. Controller. As I was owed months of wages and was a creditor to the stolen company, I attended a meeting at our offices for the company’s creditors, sitting near where my desk was, listening to Southwick and Mr. Controller tell their tales of the company’s finances. Mr. Controller invited me to come to the office some days later, when he offered to hire me. I was such a lamb in those days. I declined his offer to hire me, but he asked me if I was willing to sign an affidavit to the books I had reconstructed, which showed that Dennis’s company had still made $1 million in profits (if the customers paid their Systems for Savings receivables). And I met him at their attorney’s offices to sign that affidavit. He actually tried to dish dirt on Dennis and Alison as I signed the affidavit, and I replied that I did not need to hear that, but I was there to testify to the truth. Would I do that today, sign an affidavit on behalf of criminals? Heck no, but I was a babe in the woods with a lot to learn. Class had really not begun for me yet. As I look back, so much of it seemed surreal. At that attorney’s office (a plush, high-rise office in Seattle, not a Tara Brokers situation), Mr. Controller showed me a glossy brochure that they made, featuring the LamCo heat pump, and if they were sincere in trying to sell the heat pump, they surely thought that they could sell them for cash. Were they really deluded enough to think that the electric companies would leave them alone? I had many strange and sobering events that summer, and as I recently wrote, many events and facts were stored in my memory, and I did not make sense of many of them until years and years later. I visited Mr. Young Engineer in his home, and it was the first time that I had ever seen the Excel program that I use every day of my professional life. He showed me a program that he wrote, which calculated the “balance point” of the LamCo heat pump, which was at what point the LamCo device could heat the entire home, and when ancillary heating needed to be used. He wrote it to use as a sales tool with customers. I did not even know how the heat pump worked yet, and was impressed with his number crunching. When I moved to Boston and mentioned Mr. Young Engineer’s program to Dennis, he replied that it was a perfect example of why engineers should not be involved in sales. A balance point exercise would be meaningless to prospective customers. All that they wanted to know is if the equipment would save them money. In those days, Dennis made one of his many brilliant statements, which was that to understand the LamCo heat pump and its potential was not to see it as equipment that saved energy, but as equipment that saved money. On the macroeconomic level, it did save energy, but at the microeconomic level of the homeowner, it was all about saving money. I am a voracious learner, and Dennis’s experiences and insight comprised a gold mine for me, which I eagerly lapped up. As I learned many lessons over the years, I looked back at Mr. Young Engineer’s “balance point” demo and realized that he really had no idea what he was doing. The next year, when we began flying high in Ventura, Mr. Inventor, Mr. Installer, Mr. Young Engineer, and Dennis’s best salesman from the Seattle days tried to extort $250K from us. Those “loyalists” tried to extort that money. It was like I was on Diogenes’s quest for the honest man. I found a few, but it was just a few. During that summer, I had my second memorable awakening event, when I attended the bankruptcy trial that Bill’s dupes were waging. When Dennis was run out of the state, Bill’s job was finished and he disappeared and left his dupes holding the bag. Unlike Bill and his dupes, I was a legitimate creditor of the company, and I attended the trial more than once. The memorable event was a brief recess in the trial, when Southwick, Mr. Controller, the general counsel, and their cronies had a quick huddle, and one of the dealers who tried to steal from the company tried to join their huddle, thinking that he was part of the team, and they hostilely stared him down. The judge was in on the deal, allowing the fraudulent lawsuit to proceed in the first place. Bill was the other electric company asset in the case (as may have been Dennis’s original attorney, or they got to him, which I would see later with other attorneys during my adventures), and Bill’s dupes were fighting against Southwick’s cronies over the carcass of Dennis’s company, and deluded dealers like that one who tried to join the huddle were like jackals, waiting their turn behind the lions and hyenas, for a bite. As we walked out of the courtroom, I said, “It was like watching the piranhas versus the sharks in there!” My loyalist pal replied that it was more like watching the piranhas versus the sharks versus the barracudas versus the crocodiles. He was the only Mormon among the loyalists, and we became friends. Most loyalist meetings were in his basement. Alison had sold him some of their home’s furniture (which he never paid for), which we sat on during the meetings, and Alison also asked him to store some of their key documents for them. More than once, that loyalist told me that he was being “nice” to Alison and Dennis because he thought that it might be “profitable” one day (typical Mormon thinking, in my experience), and when the loyalists finally fell apart, he suggested that he might hold those records hostage in return for his back pay from Alison and Dennis. I had to use my friendship with him to get him to do the right thing, and I took those records with me to Boston. Of the loyalists, only two dropped out honorably. In the end, I suppose that my Mormon pal also kind of did, with me helping him find his conscience. A key question that arises is whether Southwick and friends were Godzilla’s assets, and how long their con had been in play when they stole Mr. Financier’s and then Dennis’s companies. As I have written, it would be more psychologically interesting if Mr. Skeptic was a free-lance psychopath rather than being on Godzilla’s payroll, but I think that it is more likely than not that he was on somebody’s payroll, likely Godzilla’s in some capacity. The Mormon financial empire is apparently the most powerful member of the Global Controllers, was the biggest investor in Washington’s electric companies, and a Mormon provocateur led the effort to take down our Ventura company. How many dots really need to be connected to those Mormon grifters led by Southwick to the Mormon financial empire, and hence, Godzilla? Not many. When Mr. Skeptic first libeled Dennis, he quoted the official newspaper of the Mormons, which had blatantly libeled Dennis. Was it just a bizarre series of coincidences? If you believe that, then there is a bridge that I want to sell you. However, I have my doubts that Southwick and friends were on Godzilla’s payroll, although they likely received plenty of assistance in performing their evil activities, some perhaps from Godzilla. That kid who told Dennis about the shell company worked for Dennis in Seattle. His father was a key member of Southwick’s operation, and the kid was being groomed in the “family business.” He was a few years younger than me. I doubt that the kid was all the way in, as far as knowing what Southwick and friends were all about. In that week between that attempted coup attempt and the shareholders’ meeting, he came into the office, almost in tears. The kid had come to believe in what Dennis was doing, and when his father’s cronies made their play to steal Dennis’s company, he came to his horrific moment of realization: he was a pawn that helped steal Dennis’s company, after his father and friends stole Mr. Financier’s. It was not as dramatic as Ralph’s moment of realization, but the kid was devastated, although he would not tell me the details of why he felt that way. I imagine that he got out of the family “business” after that. He stayed in contact with Dennis for some time after the Seattle events. I could go on for many posts about what I saw and learned in my Seattle days, before I chased Dennis out to Boston, but I will begin winding down that chapter of my journey. My adventures had not really begun yet! Best, Wade

Hi: That summer of 1986 was the best hiking summer of my life, while I was in professional limbo and starving financially. When the loyalists began to break up, I had less than $1,000 left of my yuppie nest egg that I arrived with in Seattle from my LA days. I offered what was left of my nearly depleted nest egg to some other loyalists who wanted to drop out, Mr. Installer in particular. When I think that he pretty much did not miss a paycheck the whole time, I smile at my naïveté, and to his credit, he did not take my money. About a month after Dennis left the state, he sent back about $1,000 that he essentially begged from a business associate in Chicago (on his way to Boston), and we gave it to Mr. Engineer, as he made it very clear that he needed the money. When I raised the money to become Dennis’s partner, Mr. Installer and Mr. Engineer were the first two people that we hired, and Mr. Engineer lived with us in Boston for several months. I was friendly with all of the loyalists, became friends with some of them, but they dropped out, one-by-one, until I was the only one left. Mr. Inventor in particular befriended me (with my inventor-mentor past), and when Dick Southwick and friends had raped the carcass of Dennis’s company for all that they could and then disappeared, Mr. Inventor asked me to accompany him with the police when they finally got access back into the company’s building. We could not fit all of Mr. Inventor’s equipment onto that truck, to put into Mr. Engineer’s barn. When we accessed the part of the facility where Mr. Inventor’s remaining equipment and office were, it had all predictably been ransacked, with the looted office and equipment strewn across the floor. Mr. Inventor had that stricken look that morning, and he developed a deep hatred for Southwick, Mr. Controller, and friends. He said that he would sue the hell out of them, but I doubt that he did. I wrote a vignette on Mr. Inventor, so don’t need to belabor it, but when I interviewed with Dennis’s company, I thought that inventors were heroes, and bowled Mr. Controller over with my enthusiasm. But that summer of 1986 is when I began to realize that maybe inventors weren’t so heroic after all, and Mr. Inventor told me that inventors’ organizations were never successful, primarily because every inventor tried to commandeer the organization into supporting his invention. Inventors’ groups were little more than forms of “display” as every inventor tried to become the Alpha Inventor. But their lack of personal integrity was something that I had to learn the hard way, and Mr. Inventor was ironically the person who began to demonstrate it to me. After I arrived in Boston, Dennis asked me to contact Mr. Inventor, to get him involved with us again, and it was painful phone call, with Mr. Inventor almost yelling, “Show me the money!” Frankly, the heat storage technology that Mr. Inventor developed was pretty useless for a free energy attempt, and Dennis was trying to get Mr. Inventor involved again largely as a favor and to make up for what happened in Seattle. It was shocking and sad to witness Mr. Inventor’s reaction to Dennis’s offer, and that was when I began to wise up to inventors. Not only was I friendly with the loyalists, I was even still friendly with Mr. Controller. As I was owed months of wages and was a creditor to the stolen company, I attended a meeting at our offices for the company’s creditors, sitting near where my desk was, listening to Southwick and Mr. Controller tell their tales of the company’s finances. Mr. Controller invited me to come to the office some days later, when he offered to hire me. I was such a lamb in those days. I declined his offer to hire me, but he asked me if I was willing to sign an affidavit to the books I had reconstructed, which showed that Dennis’s company had still made $1 million in profits (if the customers paid their Systems for Savings receivables). And I met him at their attorney’s offices to sign that affidavit. He actually tried to dish dirt on Dennis and Alison as I signed the affidavit, and I replied that I did not need to hear that, but I was there to testify to the truth. Would I do that today, sign an affidavit on behalf of criminals? Heck no, but I was a babe in the woods with a lot to learn. Class had really not begun for me yet. As I look back, so much of it seemed surreal. At that attorney’s office (a plush, high-rise office in Seattle, not a Tara Brokers situation), Mr. Controller showed me a glossy brochure that they made, featuring the LamCo heat pump, and if they were sincere in trying to sell the heat pump, they surely thought that they could sell them for cash. Were they really deluded enough to think that the electric companies would leave them alone? I had many strange and sobering events that summer, and as I recently wrote, many events and facts were stored in my memory, and I did not make sense of many of them until years and years later. I visited Mr. Young Engineer in his home, and it was the first time that I had ever seen the Excel program that I use every day of my professional life. He showed me a program that he wrote, which calculated the “balance point” of the LamCo heat pump, which was at what point the LamCo device could heat the entire home, and when ancillary heating needed to be used. He wrote it to use as a sales tool with customers. I did not even know how the heat pump worked yet, and was impressed with his number crunching. When I moved to Boston and mentioned Mr. Young Engineer’s program to Dennis, he replied that it was a perfect example of why engineers should not be involved in sales. A balance point exercise would be meaningless to prospective customers. All that they wanted to know is if the equipment would save them money. In those days, Dennis made one of his many brilliant statements, which was that to understand the LamCo heat pump and its potential was not to see it was equipment that saved energy, but as equipment that saved money. On the macroeconomic level, it did save energy, but at the microeconomic level of the homeowner, it was all about saving money. I am a voracious learner, and Dennis’s experiences and insight comprised a gold mine for me, which I eagerly lapped up. As I learned many lessons over the years, I looked back at Mr. Young Engineer’s “balance point” demo and realized that he really had no idea what he was doing. The next year, when we began flying high in Ventura, Mr. Inventor, Mr. Installer, Mr. Young Engineer, and Dennis’s best salesman from the Seattle days tried to extort $250K from us. Those “loyalists” tried to extort that money. It was like I was on Diogenes’s quest for the honest man. I found a few, but it was just a few. During that summer, I had my second memorable awakening event, when I attended the bankruptcy trial that Bill’s dupes were waging. When Dennis was run out of the state, Bill’s job was finished and he disappeared and left his dupes holding the bag. Unlike Bill and his dupes, I was a legitimate creditor of the company, and I attended the trial more than once. The memorable event was a brief recess in the trial, when Southwick. Mr. Controller, the general counsel, and their cronies had a quick huddle, and one of the dealers who tried to steal from the company tried to join their huddle, thinking that he was part of the team, and they hostilely stared him down. The judge was in on the deal, allowing the fraudulent lawsuit to proceed in the first place. Bill was the other electric company asset in the case (as may have been Dennis’s original attorney, or they got to him, which I would see later with other attorneys during my adventures), and Bill’s dupes were fighting against Southwick’s cronies over the carcass of Dennis’s company, and deluded dealers like that one who tried to join the huddle were like jackals, waiting their turn behind the lions and hyenas, for a bite. As we walked out of the courtroom, I said, “It was like watching the piranhas versus the sharks in there!” My loyalist pal replied that it was more like watching the piranhas versus the sharks versus the barracudas versus the crocodiles. He was the only Mormon among the loyalists, and we became friends. Most loyalist meetings were in his basement. Alison had sold him some of their home’s furniture (which he never paid for), which we sat on during the meetings, and Alison also asked him to store some of their key documents for them. More than once, that loyalist told me that he was being “nice” to Alison and Dennis because he thought that it might be “profitable” one day (typical Mormon thinking, in my experience), and when the loyalists finally fell apart, he suggested that he might hold those records hostage in return for his back pay from Alison and Dennis. I had to use my friendship with him to get him to do the right thing, and I took those records with me to Boston. Of the loyalists, only two dropped out honorably. In the end, I suppose that my Mormon pal also kind of did, with me helping him find his conscience. A key question that arises is whether Southwick and friends were Godzilla’s assets, and how long their con had been in play when they stole Mr. Financier’s and then Dennis’s companies. As I have written, it would be more psychologically interesting if Mr. Skeptic was a free-lance psychopath rather than being on Godzilla’s payroll, but I think that it is more likely than not that he was on somebody’s payroll, likely Godzilla’s in some capacity. The Mormon financial empire is apparently the most powerful member of the Global Controllers, was the biggest investor in Washington’s electric companies, and a Mormon provocateur led the effort to take down our Ventura company. How many dots really need to be connected to those Mormon grifters led by Southwick to the Mormon financial empire, and hence, Godzilla? Not many. When Mr. Skeptic first libeled Dennis, he quoted the official newspaper of the Mormons, which had blatantly libeled Dennis. Was it just a bizarre series of coincidences? If you believe that, then there is a bridge that I want to sell you. However, I have my doubts that Southwick and friends were on Godzilla’s payroll, although they likely received plenty of assistance in performing their evil activities, some perhaps from Godzilla. That kid who told Dennis about the shell company worked for Dennis in Seattle. His father was a key member of Southwick’s operation, and the kid was being groomed in the “family business.” He was a few years younger than me. I doubt that the kid was all the way in, as far as knowing what Southwick and friends were all about. In that week between that attempted coup attempt and the shareholders’ meeting, he came into the office, almost in tears. The kid had come to believe in what Dennis was doing, and when his father’s cronies made their play to steal Dennis’s company, he came to his horrific moment of realization: he was a pawn that helped steal Dennis’s company, after his father and friends stole Mr. Financier’s. It was not as dramatic as Ralph’s moment of realization, but the kid was devastated, although he would not tell me the details of why he felt that way. I imagine that he got out of the family “business” after that. He stayed in contact with Dennis for some time after the Seattle events. I could go on for many posts about what I saw and learned in my Seattle days, before I chased Dennis out to Boston, but I will begin winding down that chapter of my journey. My adventures had not really begun yet! Best, Wade

Hi: This series of posts has a few purposes. I don’t expect to do this again, and there are two primary purposes for this series: Show the events and thinking that led me to my “choir” approach, in more detail than I have before; This will be the closest thing on the Internet to a biography of Dennis. I doubt that Dennis’s My Quest and The Alternative will be published again, or if they are, it won’t be anytime soon. As I have been writing this series, I have been adding new images to my site (1, 2, 3), and am likely not quite done adding them. The last time that I saw Dennis, he treated me like a historian, so to a degree, I am taking the hint and getting this tale into a more permanent record. I expect my site to outlive me (like Brian’s has outlived him). If humanity is going to turn the corner, the lessons of the journeys of people such as Dennis are essential, and not for the peanut gallery, “skeptics,” and general public, but for the people who will “do something” to right humanity’s ship. They are the people that I seek, and for them, this series of posts will be a goldmine of information, and this is about the lessons we learned, not to heroify or vilify anybody. Each person meets his/her maker, and all people answer to themselves, not me or anybody else. I expect that this series of posts will also segue to my days with Brian and take me up to today and why I think like I do. Back to Seattle and the happiest year of my life. The truly ecstatic part would end soon, when Dennis had his company stolen, with the theft orchestrated by my boss. As would be the case in Boston the next year, when I became Dennis’s partner, the early days were happy and full of optimism, to later be tempered by sobering events. I was a CPA by profession, and Mr. Controller, my boss, charged me with reconstructing the company’s records and putting on my CPA hat, performing an auditor’s thoroughness in reconstructing the records. That took from mid-March into early June of 1986. A presentation of company’s financial situation is done in a series of financial statements, which largely consists of a balance sheet, income statement, cash flow statement, and statement of changes in owner’s equity. I was only going to produce a balance sheet and income statement, and the statement of changes in owner’s equity is merely a chronicle of changes in the balance sheet’s equity section. All assets, liabilities, and equity are subjected to the rules of accounting, which constantly change, although the basics rarely really do. As I finally reconstructed the company’s records to where I had a trial balance, which is all of the company’s income statement and balance sheet accounts presented in one column of numbers, I subjected each balance to my CPA’s scrutiny, and when I got to the equity section, I asked my boss for the records to reconstruct the equity section. He replied that he would handle that part, and that I should just concentrate on the rest of the financial statements. I did, not thinking that anything was amiss. He was my boss after all, and I was not at the stage of my career where I was going to challenge what my boss did, especially being the overgrown Boy Scout that I was. Little did I know it at the time, but that equity section that my boss would not let me investigate is where he engineered the theft of Dennis’s company, and this will get a little technical, but I will do my best so that it does not get too arcane. Business organizations can have several different ownership structures, from sole proprietorships to partnerships to joint ventures to corporations, and the USA is the land of the corporation. When Dennis hit Seattle with nothing but the clothes on his back, it was not long before he formed a corporation named CONSERVE, which was a corny acronym from his days on the Jersey Shore. When Mr. Financier came aboard, Dennis was soon convinced to buy a shell company, of which Mr. Financier got 10%, and other shareholders eventually ended up with 10%, leaving Dennis with 80%. Back in the 1980s, shell companies were common. They were corporations that had jumped through the regulatory hoops to have their stock publicly traded, but there was no company activity. It was an empty shell, waiting for somebody to come along and use it as a vehicle through which to run their business. Shell deals work like this: for a price, the shell owner sells the shell to a company that then uses the shell as its legal vehicle in which its stock is publicly traded. It is a quick way for companies to “go public” instead of going through the long and torturous process of doing an initial public offering (“IPO”). You don’t see that happen with big companies, but small ones that trade on ancillary exchanges do that often enough. If you watch The Wolf of Wall Street, you will see the protagonist (or, would you call him an antagonist? ) selling those marginal stocks to unwitting “investors” in a boiler room operation. Dennis, for all of his brilliance, did not have any formal training as a businessman and was kind of a rube in ways, reflecting his migrant farmer background. However, Dennis had pals on Wall Street and asked one about the shell company that that kid at Mr. Financier’s company tried to sell him, and his broker friend said to make sure that a broker was involved, and then it should not be a problem. The people that sold him the shell worked out of some building in the sticks that had a sign “Tara Brokers” on it, and Dennis thought that it was a stock brokerage outfit, but it was only a broker for shipping truck freight, which is nothing at all like a stock broker, like the difference between a street-corner drug dealer and a pharmaceutical company. The deal Dennis entered into took a few minutes, with a casualness that was kind of funny, but Dennis bought the shell company, which he then renamed CONSERVE, and then he put his company in the shell, and his company’s stock was instantly publicly traded. Mr. Financier was no rube, and shell companies and buildings in the sticks were not uncommon in the bush leagues of capitalism, but Dennis hired a CPA, Mr. Controller, my eventual boss, to ensure that all of the legal I’s were dotted and T’s crossed for that shell transaction. What Dennis entrusted Mr. Controller with, he used to steal Dennis’s company from him, and that takes a little telling. I’ll use a bank analogy. Suppose that you went into a bank to open a bank account. Your banker had you fill out some forms, and you deposited your life’s savings there. Your financier was involved with them, so the bank seemed legit to you. After the transaction, you hired a CPA and lawyer to make sure that the legal formalities were properly handled. You slept easily, knowing that your life’s savings were secure, and you even gave your financier a piece of the pie for helping you out. But what really happened was that the form that the banker gave you was not quite right, and when you hired that CPA and lawyer, they conspired with that bank to steal all of your money. Your life’s savings were now theirs, and they all had a nice feast on your money. That is in essence what happened with Dennis and that shell company. The shell company sellers were Mormon grifters, and they actually stole Mr. Financier’s company as a way to steal Dennis’s. I’ll get more into the details in the next post. Of course, at about this time, many readers might say, “They can’t do that!” But they do. This kind of criminality is rampant, and as we discovered, law enforcement, judges, prosecutors, and politicians can be found to eagerly participate for their cut of the loot, and for the rest of your life, the media and talking heads in the field will try to portray having your company stolen as somehow being part of a crime that you committed. I am not exaggerating; that is exactly how the media, legal system, free energy big names, and “skeptics” have portrayed the events in Seattle. Dennis put the world’s best heating system on his customers’ homes for free, got wiped out for his trouble, with his company stolen to boot, and somehow he was the criminal. And our adventures had barely begun. The events in Ventura were far more evil on the part of the authorities, and Dennis got railroaded into prison for not filing a form. His critics and assailants tell even bigger lies about the events in Ventura, and the gullible lap it up. Best, Wade

Hi: At Dennis’s Whoopee speech, Bill the BPA Hit Man’s attorney sat in front of me and heckled Dennis about the bankruptcy suit. I had only met Dennis that morning and did not know what to make of it. I later discovered that the lawsuit was fraudulent from beginning to end, from Bill and his dupes making up their claims from the thin air to the courts fraudulently allowing the case to proceed in the first place. Watching the charade in the courtroom was one of my key awakening moments. Bill only filed his lawsuit when Dennis ended his burglaries after the morning when Bill had all of the company’s records on the loading dock, about to haul them away. That can quickly put a company out of business, as I learned later. Dennis then hired armed guards and offered a reward for catching the burglars in the act, “dead or alive.” That stopped the break-ins, and Bill then resorted to his legal bag of tricks, with the full complicity of the legal system. When I say that the system is evil, from top to bottom, these events are only a small fraction of why I say that. Bill not only caused a woman’s death, he stole documents from Dennis’s company that ended up in the Attorney General’s files, and Betsy admitted to getting them from Bill’s lawyer, the Bill she had never heard of. Dennis had a confession from the woman who stole them for Bill (the married woman that he slept with), so the entire chain of custody was documented, but the police point blank told Dennis’s attorney (who later helped steal Dennis’s company) that they would never arrest Bill. Bill worked for the right people, and enjoyed total immunity for his vast crimes while attacking Dennis’s company, and was on the BPA’s payroll the entire time. Today, Bill is a hit man for the medical racket, so his particular talents are not wasted. For Bill’s attorney to heckle Dennis at his Whoopee speech was an astounding act of chutzpa, but I came to find out that Dennis’s assailants excelled at chutzpa, especially those who were paid to attack Dennis. Of the several camera crews that recorded Dennis’s Whoopee speech (of course, Dennis got a standing ovation at the end, but those same people cheered when Dennis had his company stolen less than three months later), only one of them aired their coverage. It was a Canadian TV station, and it was the only time that I ever saw positive TV coverage of Dennis. That is similar to Manufacturing Consent being the most popular Canadian documentary in history to that time, but never airing on an American TV station, and most Americans have never even heard of Uncle Noam. The local TV stations did not give a second of coverage to Dennis’s Whoopee speech, but I saw a lying news segment on a Dennis a couple of weeks later, which was my first inkling that maybe the “news” was not quite the truth. The morning after Dennis’s Whoopee speech, I began my career with Dennis. Those filing cabinets that Bill nearly stole became my raw material for the next three months. I was hired to reconstruct the company’s financial records. In early 1986, personal computers really had not made it into the workplace. I was a few years from buying my first personal computer myself, and my primary accounting tool was an adding machine. My previous three years of auditing was a life of my trusty adding machine that I took to all of my jobs, columnar paper, a pencil, and vinyl erasers that did not harm the paper, as you could write on the same part of the columnar sheet dozens of times. Today, when I create an adjusting entry to a trial balance in Excel (I am maintaining just such a trial balance today at my job, and after I make this post, it is off to the office to continue working on that trial balance, as I account for an Asian company that we just bought and have yet to integrate into our accounting system), it takes an instant for an entry to be reflected on the trial balance. Back in my auditing days, it took an hour for me to push an adjusting entry through our trial balances on our columnar paper. As I recall, I actually had paper ledger books to reconstruct the records of Dennis’s Seattle company, which is more resilient than columnar paper, like finished cardboard. I was given the filing cabinet of system contracts, the filing cabinet of paid invoices, the bank statements and cancelled checks, and constructed the ledgers and resulting financial statements from scratch. Little did I know it at the time, but I had history in my hands, as I reconstructed the records of the biggest run ever made to bring alternative energy to the American marketplace. When the talking heads in the FE field incessantly lie about the finances of Dennis’s companies, I know better, as I was the accountant for nearly all of them. Also, little did I know it, but Dennis’s company was in its death throes when I joined it. The tax credit expired at the end of 1985, and Bill’s phony lawsuit, the media attacks, and the like meant that Dennis’s company would be slowly strangled while I was there, and I received one paycheck before the company stopped making payroll. But I was on fire from the lightning bolt, I was one of the few people left at the company who really had something to do, and I felt like I was surrounded by good-hearted people who believed in the cause. I would soon be disabused of my naïveté, but in those months of reconstructing the company’s records, I was on fire, working 50+ hour weeks, hiking in the Cascade Mountains every weekend with my cousin, and it was the happiest time of the happiest year of my life, even though I starved with nearly no income that year, and ended the year on my life’s longest fast so far, of 45 days, partly because fasting was cheaper than eating. About a month after beginning at Dennis’s company, I had an all-night-long waking dream, reverberating from the lightning bolt, exhilarated at what I had become involved with. I have only had a few nights like that in my life, and never one quite like that. After less than two months there, Dennis had his 40th birthday. There was a big party for him in the meeting room upstairs. I kept working downstairs and answered the company phone when it rang, and Mr. Financier was on the phone, demanding to talk to Dennis. It was the only time that I ever spoke to Mr. Financier, and as I look back, he was in the middle of having his company stolen, a company that he spent his life building, as a way to steal Dennis’s company. My boss orchestrated the theft, but that story comes later. Mr. Financier attended the meeting when Dennis’s company was stolen the next month, it is the only time I ever saw him, and he looked stricken. It was a look that I became very familiar with in the coming years, and I wore it myself plenty of times. While I was reconstructing the company’s records, Dennis was trying everything that he could think of to survive. Dennis heard of Joe Newman in those days, visited Joe, and was rebuffed. But Dennis enthusiastically played a tape of news clips about Joe at our company, and even though Joe began to imagine that he was The Second Coming (and he is far from the last FE inventor to be overcome by such delusions), his effort gets credit for being the first time that I ever heard of FE. I was a babe in the woods in those days, and even when Dennis got his FE idea and I became his partner, I doubt that either one of us had even heard of Nikola Tesla. It was not until I began hitting the books after my life had been shattered that I became studious about the FE issue, and came to realize that we were only the latest in a long line of FE aspirants. I worked long hours that spring, clear up until Dennis’s company was stolen. When the company stopped making payroll, Dennis promised that I would get my pay in stock if it came to that, and I was happy if I would receive a tiny fraction of 1% of the company for my efforts. I was just happy to be there, and I thought that those around us were motivated like I was and, as it became increasingly clear to me, as Dennis was. I did not even know how the heat pump worked in the Seattle days. I just knew that I had been hit by the lightning bolt and I increasingly was sold on Dennis as the months went by. One evening, I was working late as usual and Dennis needed a ride home. I drove him to his Bellevue home, in the first of many trips with Dennis, and on the way to his house, he told me how Colleen died. It was one of my early sobering moments on my FE journey, and the event clearly impacted Dennis very deeply. A couple of months later, I repeated Dennis’s account to Mr. Engineer. Colleen worked under Mr. Engineer, and he replied that my account from Dennis was completely accurate. But my adventures were just beginning. Best, Wade

Hi: Before I get to my entrance on the scene, a little background is warranted. There is plenty of biographical information in my public writings, so there is no need to belabor it. If Dennis’s and my stories were ever fully told, almost nobody would believe it. Maybe one day they will be, but it can’t be done today, to protect both the guilty and the innocent. In the highest councils on Earth, our story is well known and our efforts have caused them plenty of sleepless nights, and we are still at it, which amazes even me. When I wished Dennis a happy 70th birthday a couple of months ago, I noted that in 1988, I would not have taken short odds on Dennis living to see his 70th birthday, much less still going at it as hard as ever. Dennis, Mr. Professor, and I were all firstborns and sons, and there certainly is something to birth order. We all ended up being leaders and caretakers for our families, and it was definitely related to our public work. I had a much easier childhood than Dennis or Mr. Professor had and was raised with care and opportunities that few have ever had, and I appreciate it. My parents did the best that they could, and I was raised in the most prosperous era of the human journey, in history’s richest and most powerful nation. That prosperous era in history’s richest nation allowed Dennis, Mr. Professor, and my father to escape their agrarian roots, while Brian and I were raised in suburban bliss. How could we complain? With the exception of my father, we were a bunch of overgrown Boy Scouts, and that, more than anything else, led to our ridiculous journeys, in which being asked to go to Mars was merely an amusing footnote. I was raised in a military family, in a community where most technical professionals worked for the military, and what a cynical bunch they could be, understandably. But I was an idealist in much the same vein as Dennis, but I never embraced organized religion, nationalism, or even capitalism as fervently as Dennis did, and to a degree, still does. I had my mystical awakening when I was 16, became a pacifist by 19 (after nearly becoming a soldier), and began questioning my capitalist indoctrination upon college graduation. Little did I know it at the time, but my mystical awakening wrecked me as a mainstream scientist, as I could no longer drink the Kool-Aid of our Epoch’s triune religion for the “smart”: materialism, rationalism, and scientism. I eventually escaped all of the dominant ideologies of our time, which are based on scarcity and fear. IMO, people can’t see the bigger picture until they can relinquish those ideological constructs, because they are all erected on false foundations and designed for population management purposes, creating in-groups at the expense of the out-groups. Even so, I was an idealist early on, raised to be a Golden Boy (although it took some time after leaving home before I shed the racism and bigotry that I was raised with). I am emotionally centered in this lifetime, and that combination of nature, nurture, opportunity, and a little help from my unseen friends led me on my path. I was raised in idyllic environments until college graduation, being raised in a Southern California beach town and going to college near some of the most spectacular meetings of land and sea on Earth. My uncle introduced me to hiking in the majestic Cascade Range when I was 15, and soon after I moved away to the university, and my girlfriend jilted me the week after we arrived, I began planning my move to Seattle when I graduated from college. I picked the worst recession in 40 years to graduate, in December 1981, and after a brief misadventure of working for a small CPA firm in Seattle, I crawled back to California, defeated, and began my career working in downtown LA for one of the big CPA firms, and was thrust into an urban hell. Idealism met brutal reality, and I was forced into eating meat and drinking alcohol. I gave up the meat and went back to my vegetarian ways after quitting public accounting, but I had a battle with the bottle until I was 42, and quit just before my nightmare of a midlife crisis began; otherwise, I might not be here writing these words. Throughout those nightmarish years in LA, which were my life’s unhappiest, I still nurtured my energy dreams, but they looked further away than ever, as my health began to fail in the relentless stress of my life and career, and I was only in my mid-20s. It culminated one morning in LA, when I felt trapped with no way out. I had tried to find a job in Seattle on my vacation the year before, and failed (my third failure of trying to live in Seattle), and figured that I would have to work several years to develop a war chest, to then hunker down for the long task of finding work in Seattle and hiking to my heart’s content. Several events transpired over a few days, and I had hit rock bottom, feeling like I was trapped in hell. It was eight years since I first asked for guidance and that voice spoke out, changing my studies from science to business, and for the second and so far last time in my life, I asked for guidance. I am not very happy with that voice, and it has plenty of explaining to do if I ever meet it, and if this is how souls grow up, there has to be a better way. I felt backed into a corner, partly by my “friends,” and made a desperate prayer for guidance. The next morning it was answered when the voice said that I might as well starve in Seattle rather than being trapped in LA. Ten days later, I was interviewing at Dennis’s company. Even I sometimes have a hard time believing that it happened. As I sat in Dennis’s building, waiting for my interview with him, Dennis walked into the building. Without either of us knowing who the other was, we made eye contact, and we both knew that something was up. I have likened that moment to that scene in Babe, when the farmer first picks up that piglet. That day, when I met Dennis and Alison, he hired me, and that evening, before I began work the next morning, I walked from my grandparents’ home on top of Queen Anne Hill to the Seattle Center and saw Dennis speak in front of several hundred people, with several camera crews filming. The events of those weeks were like being hit repeatedly by a lightning bolt, and Dennis could not get rid of me after that. I relate many events from those days in my vignettes that I published last year, so will cover those days relatively lightly, but I will work in some new information. Best, Wade

Hi: Before I go any further, what makes Dennis’s story must reading for any FE aspirant is that Dennis got much further down the path with disruptive energy technology than anybody else in world history. That it was not initially FE technology is largely irrelevant. Dennis trod terrain that no other FE aspirant has ever come close to sniffing. The closer that you come to the market, the more pronounced the organized suppression will be. That should be an elementary capitalistic lesson, but all that the talking heads in the FE field can do is lie about Dennis, get duped by affable “skeptics” who lie out of both sides of their mouth, etc. I recently had an interaction with one of the names in the FE field, and that name thought that Mr. Skeptic was likely being paid to provide his “skepticism,” and I replied that when he quietly folded his tents soon after Dennis was run out of the USA, it told me all that I needed to know about him. When Dennis is lied about and dismissed by those in the FE field, the lessons of his journey are not learned, and those legions of FE inventors never even leave their garages and workshops before they are defeated, usually by themselves. The FE field has been in a state of arrested development for longer than I have been alive, dominated by tinkerers with dreams of riches and fame, scientists with their pet theories and a boatload of naïveté, FE newbies who announce that they are the Messiah, New Age groupies and cheerleaders, etc. When Bill the BPA Hit Man made his move, carefully coordinated with the Attorney General’s office and other electric company assets, such as the media, he unmasked himself. When Dennis sent Bill home, with pay, to do the job that he had solicited to Dennis, Bill instead kicked his campaign into high gear and tried to incite a mutiny again, and Dennis immediately fired him. The first thing that Bill did after being fired was fly to Spokane to meet with Mr. Financier, to use all of his dark arts of persuasion to get Mr. Financier to pull his funding from Dennis’s company. That effort failed, and you can read Mr. Financier’s writing about his meeting with Bill. Bill is a giant of man, about six foot eight inches in height and was ruggedly handsome, and he used whatever he could. He slept with women at Dennis’s company, at least one of whom was married. He used those connections to get people to steal documents and perform acts of sabotage against Dennis’s company. A sizable fraction of humanity is easily manipulated by activities like that, far more than you could have convinced me of before I met Dennis, and Bill sought all of the weak links that he could. One of them was a clerk who worked for Mr. Engineer in the installation department. Her name was Colleen Smith. Dennis did not know it, but Colleen was a troubled young woman who easily fell to Bill’s charms, and she began stealing documents and engaged in other mutinous acts. I wrote about how Bill drove her to suicide, here, and it was Dennis’s first radicalizing moment in his energy journey. Here is where I need to present some of the lessons that I learned from those events. This could be an area where Dennis could be accused of having a moral blind spot. He hired Bill when he knew that Bill was not who he presented himself as, and Colleen’s blood is on Dennis’s hands, too, although I never saw Dennis admit it, and he kept letting people like Bill into his efforts, even when he strongly suspected who they really were. It is partly a hazard of trying to mount mass movements; you have no filter on who joins up, and the predators swarm efforts like those. When Bill came aboard, Dennis misdirected Bill by saying that another Vietnam vet that Dennis had taken in was his close confidant, and Bill and that vet (Harlow) became inseparable, and they were the two who drove Colleen to suicide. That is what dancing with the devil gets you, and Mr. Professor’s blood is on my hands, to a degree (and it is also on the “hands” of the voice in my head), and I will do all in my power to not only keep the provocateurs out of my effort and eject them immediately upon discovery, but also, nobody is going to be earning their livelihood through my efforts, so the temptations that people such as Bill present will simply not exist in my effort. Anybody who looks to make a living from being involved with my effort came to the wrong place. The choir is going to be giving, not getting. Of course, vanishingly few people will be attracted to an effort like that, but I seek needles in haystacks and know it. Many Americans have read my account of Colleen’s death and been devastated. When I first wrote that account nearly 25 years ago, the process was so emotionally draining that I stopped writing for six months. That kind of evil is alive and well in the USA, The Land of the Free. Bill not only never fell afoul of law enforcement when performing his criminal acts, but the legal system was his protector and active accomplice, and Bill is a handsomely compensated hit man for the medical racket today. People like him are very useful. Killing somebody did not slow Bill down at all. He attended Colleen’s funeral and spread the rumor that her death was caused by Dennis and Alison. People like Bill do not have what we would call a conscience, whether you want to call them psychopaths, dark pathers, or whatever. Bill will go to a fitting place when he passes over, and the more people that he can entice/drag into his hell with him, the more he will “succeed.” It is the nature of the reality that we live in. It does not have to be this way, but it is the way it currently is. If you want to meet people like Bill, go try to bring disruptive energy technology to market. People like him will come running, either as free-lance psychopaths or on somebody’s payroll. Betsy worked closely with Bill. When Betsy tried to get documents from Dennis and was rebuffed (after criminally misusing the documents that she did “legally” get), Bill would steal them. When a bunch of documents that Bill stole ended up in Betsy’s possession and Dennis threatened an FBI probe of the Attorney General’s office, Betsy hurriedly returned them. She said that she got them from Bill’s attorney, the Bill that she had never heard of. When Betsy and Bill struck, less than three months remained to get those systems installed. Even after several months of campaigning by the electric company and a compliant media to scare off Dennis’s customers, Dennis’s company still had a thousand systems on order, at least until that big splash in mid-October. When that splash happened, all customers who had not put down a deposit cancelled their orders, leaving 400 customers who stood to lose their deposits if those systems were not installed by the end of the year. Dennis then engaged in one of his life’s most heroic acts and got those systems installed by year-end, but it was not easy. Bill began engaging in acts of sabotage, burglary, and other evil deeds, and Betsy took Dennis’s remaining customers hostage, forcing Dennis to capitulate and sign a settlement that did not admit to anything other than one person in the Washington State “innocently” misunderstood one thing that Dennis said, and Dennis had his customers vote on whether to settle. Dennis said it was the dirtiest deal that he ever did, and you can read Mr. Financier’s account of the settlement, here. But that settlement has been used ever since as hard “evidence” of what a criminal Dennis is, and Mr. Deputy even tried to use it on me on the day of the raid, coming across like a Boy Scout until he knew that I was with Dennis in Seattle and knew of the nature of the “settlement.” When Mr. Deputy finally unmasked himself to me, it was the turning point of my life. Dennis’s libelers generally begin their attacks with that settlement, to then tell Big Lies about what happened in Ventura. Dennis began receiving anonymous death threats in those days, of course from Bill and friends, with at least one murder attempt, and when I met Dennis a few months later, he had a bodyguard, hired by a woman who ran the marketing department, who feared for Dennis’s life. When the burglaries, sabotage efforts, death threats, attacks by various government agencies and the like failed to take down Dennis’s company, Bill filed a fraudulent bankruptcy lawsuit that the federal courts fraudulently allowed to slowly strangle Dennis’s company. So, the federal level was involved once more, not just the BPA, and whether Godzilla was pulling any strings then is still kind of an open question for me. Bill may well have been a Godzilla asset already, but it is a bit speculative on my part. The first undoubted contact from Godzilla came the next year, soon after I became Dennis’s partner, and we received the friendly buyout offer. Women are generally underachievers on the dark path, with their bodies designed to nourish life, not take it, and Betsy was an example of somebody who got in way over her head, her conscience finally woke up, and she quit her career with the Attorney General’s office a few weeks after her final confrontation with Dennis, when he rubbed her nose in her evil acts, as she sat for two hours fielding questions from the people whose lives she ruined. My preposterous entry to the scene is coming soon, and Dennis had even more bizarre events that brought him into contact with people who wronged him. For instance, when that Colorado cowboy returned from South America after spending the money that he stole from Dennis, he literally ran into Dennis in an office situation, and Dennis told the cowboy that he hoped that he enjoyed the money that he stole from Dennis, but that if he ever got involved with the LamCo heat pump again, there would be dire consequences, and the cowboy nodded in understanding. Similarly, not long after Dennis had his Seattle company stolen, he got on an airplane, and guess who sat in the seat next to him? Betsy! Dennis told Betsy that he could sit somewhere else, but Betsy said that it was OK. Dennis then sat down and asked Betsy how she could sleep at night, and she replied that she was only following orders, but that her conscience finally got to her (only when she had her nose rubbed in her evil deeds), and for the past 30 years, she has taught law school in Seattle, and is today among the emeritus faculty. The year 1985 ended with Dennis’s installers working until midnight on New Year’s Eve so that those customers would receive their tax credits, and thus ended the biggest run ever made to bring alternative energy to the American marketplace. The LamCo heat pump was still a highly viable piece of energy-saving equipment, especially for commercial hot water applications, but the subsidy that made his Systems for Savings program work so magnificently had ended. Dennis was able to overcome the immense obstacles and get 400 systems installed in 1985, and when I saw last saw him in 2013, he said that some of his best customer references in the past 30 years came from some of those Seattle customers. But the New Year really saw the end of Dennis’s Seattle effort. Washington’s oligarchy was not going to let Dennis’s company survive, and Bill’s fraudulent lawsuit was just one of the many slings and arrows that still came at Dennis in early 1986, and I watched one of those lying news shows on Dennis a couple of weeks after I started at Dennis’s company, which was the first inkling that I got that the “news” might not be the truth. I smile when I think of how naïve I was when I met Dennis, but our meeting was an epic moment in both of our journeys, and the next post is about my entrance to the story of Dennis’s journey. Best, Wade

Hi: When Dennis was in Delaware, after he was named “Con Man of the Year” for his foam insulation work, state officials looked into his “too good to be true” Systems for Savings (“SFS”) program. How do you attack a program that puts equipment on a person’s home for free? There was really nothing that the officials could say. The brilliance of Dennis’s SFS program always went way over the heads of those going for the quick capitalistic kill. Potential customers were not going to part with several thousand dollars in cash for a piece of exotic equipment that they weren’t sure worked. All the technical talk in the world was not going to convince the average American, of which about 95% were scientifically illiterate. That was why the only sales that LamCo made before Dennis arrived on the scene were to scientists and technicians, half of whom installed the system themselves. It was a tinkerer’s dream, but that was no way to carpet a nation. Dennis had to retrain his salesmen, too, who were sharks that always went for the cash. In life insurance, there was a similar situation. Term insurance has always been the best for the consumer, but the salesmen would never sell it, as the big commission checks came from selling them the other kinds of life insurance (which they did not need, but that was where the big money was, selling them something that they didn’t need). The entire life insurance industry was essentially a big scam, until A.L Williams came along and only sold term, and the life insurance industry tried to put him out of business for years. Mr. Professor became a millionaire largely by buying stock in A.L. William’s company, and when we hit Ventura, he noted the similarities between A.L. Williams’s situation and Dennis’s, in which they brought to market something great for consumers, and the corrupt industry tried to put them out of business. The energy industry, however, dwarfs the life insurance industry and plays far dirtier, as Dennis would soon discover. Dennis’s experienced salesmen always did the pitch backwards, like in a life insurance pitch, going for the big commission with a cash deal, and if they failed to get the customer to go for the cash, then they would offer the SFS deal, but by then, their credibility was destroyed. Dennis’s SFS programs actually worked best with inexperienced sales people who didn’t go for the customer’s jugular, as they offered the SFS deal to start with. Use the company’s and government’s money to get the world’s best heating system put on your home for free, you don’t even have to know how it works or even care, because if it doesn’t work, you don’t pay anything. A chimpanzee could make that sale. After getting the customer sold on the SFS program, in which the system cost $10K, the salesman would then say, “But if you want to use your money instead of the company’s, the cost is $8K.” About two-thirds of the customers went for the SFS deal, while about a third used their own cash for the $8K deal. Although Delaware’s officials could not find anything to go after – how could they? – the Attorney General’s office in Washington was under orders to protect the turf of the electric companies, so it began its “investigation” in July 1985, just when Bill the BPA Hit Man approached Dennis’s company. In the meantime, Mr. Financier was so excited about the company’s prospects that he wanted a bigger piece of the pie. He regularly made the trip from Spokane to Seattle, surveying his new empire, and one day he told Dennis that now that he was in the Big Time (he was worth about as much the owner of another up-and-coming company in Seattle, a man by the name of Bill Gates), he deserved better accommodations than the flea bag motel near the airport that he and his family lived in, and Mr. Financier took Dennis for a drive to Bellevue, where Gates lived. They drove up to a nice home, and Mr. Financier announced to Dennis that this house was in his company’s inventory, and that he would sell it to Dennis for a little more stock in Dennis’s company. The house had a weight room and pool in the basement. It was better than his digs in South Hampton. Dennis lived there until he was run out of the state the next year. The electric companies were publicly saying that Dennis had stonewalled them about his equipment, refusing to give them any details. As usual, that was in the Big Lie department. These events happened before I ever heard of Dennis, but as I would learn myself the hard way, those in power can tell Big Lies repeatedly, and instead of challenging them, the media will parrot them. That was never clearer than in the drum-beating for the invasion of Iraq, as the Bush administration told Big Lies every day, and the bigger, the better, and the media, especially The New York Times, breathlessly reported every lie as if it was fact. Anybody who challenged the lies was taken out. That the Bush administration’s rationales were all exposed as brazen lies does not stop the media from lying about Iran or Russia, etc., today. They assume that all the lies merely go down the public’s memory hole, and they generally do. As Napoleon once said, goading the masses into war with lies works, and if the public finds out the truth later, it is too late to matter. That has been a principle of Western governance ever since. Wars are always based on lies, and in the USA, imperial propaganda has become a science. So, a barrage of lies from the electric companies, parroted by the media, were what caused Dennis to call that meeting that they didn’t attend. After that meeting, Dennis had an open house at his new factory, and invited all of the customers to attend (and he called the Attorney General’s office to invite them, and they denied they were even investigating him, but in their denials, they repeated, verbatim, what the electric company spokesmen said), and they gave Dennis a standing ovation. Boy, it sure looked like they needed the Attorney General to protect them from that con man Dennis. As I later learned, the greatest protection racket on Earth is protecting the public. Not long after that open house, the Attorney General’s office formally informed Dennis that they were investigating them, and when Dennis met with them, Hansel and Gretel attended, dropped their masks, and they wore coprophagic grins after that, and were so immature and unprofessional that Dennis had to finally ask that they not be involved in meetings with him. The “investigation” was headed by a Deputy Attorney General named Betsy. Betsy had recently joined the Attorney General’s office and bragged to her boyfriend that she was going to fight crime and protect the public. The assignment that Betsy was handed did not quite measure up to her rhetoric. Betsy lied out of both sides of her mouth from the beginning. Again, how do you attack a company that gave away its equipment? Betsy found a way. In 1985, the American Midwest was known as the Rust Belt, never recovering from the energy crisis recession of 1973-1974 that ended the postwar boom, and the recession of 1981-1982 was the final blow, and America’s industrial capacity has plummeted ever since, as factories were shipped abroad in the global class war by the capital class against the working class known was the Race to the Bottom. Cities such as Detroit have become hells on Earth. In the wake of all the hostility toward his company in Seattle, Dennis decided that leaving the state might be a good move, and Indiana rolled out the red carpet for him. Anybody wanting to build a factory in Rust Belt Indiana was welcome, especially one with such heady prospects as Dennis’s company. Betsy played coy with Dennis, acting as if there were merely some I’s to dot and T’s to cross, and then everything would be fine and the “investigation” would conclude (Mr. Deputy played the same game years later). But her “investigation” was dragging on, and Dennis was invited to Indiana to discuss moving his factory there with state officials, and he told Betsy about that upcoming business trip to Indiana. Dennis said that he would cancel the trip if Betsy needed him in Seattle to complete her investigation, but Betsy said that all was well, and that she could wait until Dennis returned and they could finish doting those I’s. Dennis then went on his trip. One morning, while in Indiana, his contact with the Indiana state officials asked what hell was going on in Seattle. They had been contacted by the Washington Attorney General’s office and were ceasing all negotiations. Dennis was blindsided. In Dennis’s absence, Alison ran the company, and that same morning that Dennis was blindsided in Indiana, Alison drove into the company parking lot to be greeted by camera crews from Seattle’s TV stations. Alison had microphones thrust in her face and was asked about the Attorney General’s lawsuit against their company. Alison said, “What lawsuit?” Betsy had carefully orchestrated the attack while Dennis was out of town, after assuring him that going on that trip was fine. And with the media swarming the company, there actually had not been any lawsuit filed. Betsy had mobilized the media and other assets, and did not actually have a lawsuit. About this time, observers often exclaim, “They can’t do that!” I wish that I had a dollar for every time people said that about Dennis’s journey, especially his lawyers. Dennis immediately got on a flight home and returned to a company in pandemonium. On the airplane, Dennis wrote a full page ad. When he returned to Seattle, he luckily got the weekend editor at The Seattle Times and they ran his full-page ad, which detailed what the Attorney General’s office had done. Dennis later heard that as the Attorney General read Dennis’s ad, his face turned crimson. Cowards like the Attorney General are not used to people fighting back, which I also noted years later in Ventura. Evil-minded people like the Attorney General expect to blindside innocent people, they go down in the hail of the initial attack, and it usually works out that way, but Dennis has never been easy to kill, as the Attorney General was about to discover. The Attorney General’s office got sacks full of mail from an enraged public in the wake of Dennis’s full-page ad, and Dennis later heard that it was one of the two worst publicity black eyes that that Attorney General ever suffered. The other one was when he crushed a homeless advocate on behalf of Seattle’s oligarchy, who do not want to solve the homeless problem. The activist engaged in a huge pamphlet campaign on the eve of the election in 1992, when that Attorney General was running for governor, and he barley lost. That campaign by that homeless advocate has been credited as one reason why the Attorney General lost the election. When the lawsuit was finally filed some days later, it was more than 40 counts of lies and fantasy. As I would later discover, they can simply make it up as they go. But the phony lawsuit and media blitz, orchestrated while Dennis was out of town, was only one prong of the attack. When the media attack came, Bill the BPA Hit Man made his move, trying to incite a mutiny from inside the company. He worked closely with the Attorney General’s office, and had been seen in Betsy’s company, which she denied when confronted with that fact, along with a thousand other lies that she told. Bill had only been at the company for ten weeks, performed none of the services that he had solicited to the company when Dennis hired him, and instead played political games, trying to befriend all of the key people at the company. The company was not in dire straits yet, so Bill’s play largely fell on deaf ears, although far from entirely. Psychopaths like Bill are very good at what they do. I never got to see him in action but heard the stories, and when I later saw Mr. Deputy and Mr. Texas in action, I got to see how dark pathers do it. They are talented, that I will grant them, which is why they were so handsomely compensated for attacking Dennis and his companies. Dennis came back to a company in pandemonium, heard what Bill had done (which should not have surprised Dennis), and he sent Bill home, with pay, and told him that the services that he solicited - smoothing things with the electric companies - did not require any contact with the employees at Dennis’s company, and that if Bill contacted anybody at the company after that day, he would be fired. Bill had better get going on smoothing things with the electric companies. Of course, Bill had made his play, doing his part in the inside-outside job, working closely with Betsy, but the company was still standing. Bill had to earn his BPA blood money, so he kicked his campaign into high gear. That story will be told in coming posts, and it is an instructive lesson in how evil works. Best, Wade

Hi: In the spring of 1985, when Dennis stacked up hundreds of contracts, he was planning to use a California company, BESTEC, as his manufacturer. They filed for bankruptcy just as Mr. Financier came aboard and the electric companies began their frontal assault. A few years later, BESTEC’s president helped us when Dennis was in jail, and he told me that a Rockefeller bank made the dirty move that wiped out his company, just as other interests began attacking Dennis’s company. Coincidence? I would not bet on it, and it only adds to the suspicion that Godzilla was actively involved in what happened in Seattle, although the Rockefellers are lower level players, in our experience. Sure, David Rockefeller has probably handpicked all American presidents since JFK was taken out, but sitting American presidents are nowhere near the top of the global food chain. Since JFK, all presidents have been puppets and they knew it. That Seattle bank betrayed Dennis more than once and was on its way out of business, so Dennis was reduced to doing what he avoided: building his own factory to build the LamCo heat pumps. And for that, he used the one person that he brought over from his Yakima adventures with Mr. Big. When dealing with The Bubble, Dennis got to know Mr. Engineer. At this point on the narrative, I am close to coming onto stage, and I will begin referring to vignettes about various players that I wrote last year, and here is mine on Mr. Engineer. Mr Engineer lived with us in Boston and we all loved that old man, but he was in it for the money. He supervised the construction the world’s largest building, where they build Boeing 747s today, and was its first plant superintendent. But he developed bladder cancer at about age 60 and Boeing forced him into retirement. Dennis picked him up off the scrapheap in Yakima, and Mr. Engineer was on Dennis’s board of directors in Seattle. Building Dennis’s heat pump factory was no great challenge for Mr. Engineer, and just as Mr. Financier came aboard, Dennis swung a deal to rent a factory facility, and Mr. Engineer began building the heat pump factory. Dennis had also hired Mr. Young Engineer, who could not keep his nose out of his engineering textbooks, and Dennis had to constantly override Mr. Young Engineer’s ignorant design decisions. Mr. Young Engineer would happily sacrifice $10,000 of energy savings to extend the life of a $400 compressor. They began building the factory just when Bill the BPA Hit Man came aboard and the Attorney General’s office began their “investigation.” The media also attacked on behalf of Washington’s oligarchy. In August, Dennis hosted installer training schools, run by Mr. Installer, to install those heat pumps when they rolled off of the assembly line. Carter’s tax credit expired at the end of the year, so Dennis was in a race to install thousands of systems by year-end, and maybe get that industry going that he had dreamed of for several years. Dennis was constantly thinking about how to work the kinks out of the system, and that plant manager of the Carrier facility was not entirely wrong: there was no way that the USA could be carpeted with the LamCo heat pump installed the way that it was. Dennis had toyed with prefabricated panel arrays, to reduce the installation fieldwork and improve installation quality, and during that summer, Dennis invented what he called the Heat Injector. I just put up a painting that features it. The Heat Injector was a self-contained unit, like an air-to-air heat pump, and would be completely fabricated and charged at the factory. Dennis never got a chance to put it into production, as we will see. But it was a brilliant attempt to overcome installation problems and attain the level of quality needed to carpet a nation with them. In August 1985, Dennis called a lunch meeting and invited all of the electric companies, as Dennis made a presentation of his plans, once again trying to work with them and demonstrate that he wasn’t a threat. I eventually watched a tape of that meeting. There was only one electric company representative, a lineman who only came as a favor to Mr. Engineer. Also, a couple of young people attended uninvited, stating that they were college students who were interested in Dennis’s company. Bill the BPA Hit Man, who solicited his services to smooth things with the electric companies, attended the meeting, but no electric company representatives came at his behest (of course, he made no effort to invite anybody, and that tape is the only time that I ever saw Bill). It turned out that those two “college students” were investigators for the Attorney General’s office, which they later revealed, and they were so immature, with their giggling and adolescent behavior, that Dennis complained to the Attorney General’s office about them, and Dennis later dubbed them Hansel and Gretel. Dennis was supping with the sharks, who were about to strike. Wade

Hi: What I want to make clear is that 10 Dennises, and FE is a done deal, or a hundred like Brian, or maybe even Greer. Those people sacrificed their lives to chase after the biggest event in the human journey, and should be in the pantheon. No matter how noble or heroic their efforts, the question for me is if their approaches have a chance, and after many years of playing spear carrier to those people, I decided that their approaches did not have a chance, and I am doing something radically different. Will what I am doing help? We’ll see, but it won’t hurt. The only person who is risking his/her life with my approach right now is me, and think that I am low enough on the radar that Godzilla will just watch for now. And the sooner I build the choir, the sooner the risk to me goes down. Dennis, Brian, and Greer have all had their moments of disgust with humanity, as they tried their approaches, and I know the feeling. It just comes with the territory. I have seen critics and assailants of those men for many years, and almost without exception, they were all armchair peanut gallery critics, with many of them lying outright. It gets tiring to continually field questions about Dennis and Greer, as I used to field them about Brian when he was still alive. My hat is off to all of them, but I am doing something different, seeking the heart-centered sentient, not trying to draw a crowd. Crowds are useless. I watched the very same crowds giving Dennis a standing ovation one day, and cheering as he was crucified the next. Wade

Hi: Going out the door, and I want to emphasize something that is going to be one of the punchlines that will end this series of posts. For all of Dennis’s undeniable greatness, he will never escape his agrarian roots in this lifetime, which include his literalist Christianity. Almost nobody can escape their Epoch in their lifetime, and the agrarian religions are one Epoch behind that of industrial nations. Messianic organized religions are of the Third Epoch, which are quickly becoming irrelevant in the Fourth. The USA is a rather bizarre throwback to the Third Epoch in ways, partly because of how Europe “settled” temperate North America and how socially backward the isolated British Isles were. In that book that I recently read, a lot of ink was spilled on the American religious fundamentalism that denies evolution and an Earth older than 6,000 years. It is rather bizarre, in history’s richest and most powerful nation. Dennis’s approach, to a significant degree, is as messianic as his religion, and that is no coincidence. The hero archetype is of the Third Epoch, and certainly not appropriate for the Fifth. The heroic approach is not going to work to bring the Fifth Epoch into being. There are not enough genuine heroes for it to work. All of that mass movement stuff is an artifact of the Fourth Epoch, of political revolutions and Marxist fervor, when they are effects of the Industrial Revolution, not causes. The mass movement mentality appeals to pre-sentient sociality and a victim mentality, as they almost invariably set themselves up in opposition to oppressive elites and their servile entourages. I carried the spears of the best of the best for those approaches, and finally concluded that they will not work, not for manifesting the coming Epoch. In order for my approach to have a chance, my pupils and allies have to get beyond all in-group ideologies, leave the religion of the Fourth Epoch behind, retail politics, fighting the elites or beseeching them, and so on. The message of the masters, however, is timeless and beyond all Epochs, which is that love is always the answer. Members of any Epoch or soul age can understand that. Wade

Hi: I will now venture into some conspiratorial aspects of that year. Some is undeniable, some is very reasonable, and some is a bit more speculative. When an electric company spokesman called for an Attorney General’s investigation into Dennis’s company, the shadowy interests who had been trying to wipe him out unmasked themselves, and Dennis sure didn’t have to connect many dots when he heard rumors that the Attorney General’s office was investigating his company. Dennis immediately called the Attorney General’s office, asking what was happening, and they denied even knowing who Dennis was, which was the first of many Big Lies that they told. As we came to learn the hard way, public officials are often the greatest criminals of all, and lying out of both sides of their mouth seems to be their “job,” which some even openly admitted to us (and here). So, there is no speculation at all of a conspiracy between the electric companies and the Attorney General’s office. The Attorney General in those days was a bona fide gangster, and in recent years he has fronted for the agribusiness interests who are trying to ban labeling of GMO food. I saw him flacking for them in a TV ad a couple of years ago, as the election on the issue loomed. When I mentioned those interests to my college student niece recently, she knew who they were and her immediate reaction was that those people are “evil,” and I can’t argue too hard against that idea. Those are the same kinds of interests that turned an industrial waste into “medicine,” that call Global Warming a hoax, say that a little radiation is good for you, etc. That former Attorney General nearly became Washington’s governor back in the 1990s, barely losing, partly because one of his many victims fought back. Soon after the electric companies began their open campaign against Dennis, a hit man from the BPA approached Dennis’s company, posing as an alternative energy activist who could smooth things between Dennis and the electric companies. His story will be told more fully later, but he was responsible for the death of one of Dennis’s employees, which was Dennis’s first radicalizing moment in his energy pursuit. That hit man is now a hit man for the medical racket. People like him are very real, not some figment of fevered conspiracist imaginations. When I say that the system is evil from top to bottom, people such as Bill the BPA Hit Man are only a small part of why I say that. Whether Bill the BPA Hit Man was part of a larger effort at the time is where it gets a little speculative. Bill is a Godzilla asset, but exactly when he became one is uncertain for me. Bill developed phony alternative energy credentials long before he approached Dennis’s company, similar to how Lee Harvey Oswald developed his fake communist credentials. When people develop fake credentials like that, they are doing it as part of a program. Oswald did it as part of his military intelligence path. Whose program was Bill in? More than 20 years after those events, Steven Greer wrote that the Mormon financial empire was the most prominent player amongst the Global Controllers, Mormons ended up stealing Dennis’s Seattle company, and Dennis later discovered that the Mormon financial empire was the biggest investor in Washington’s electric companies. Lots of dots there, and how do they connect? Do they connect? I will provide some of the evidence. Arguing away from the Mormon connection, Mormonism is the religion of business. My wife had a relative who converted from Catholicism to Mormonism because of all of the business opportunities that it provided. The business angle is actually a pillar of Mormonism. Mormons pepper the USA west of the Rockies, and I know businessmen who don’t want to do business with them, because it is like dealing with a cult that is always trying to give you the short end of the stick. So maybe Mormons in every direction that Dennis looked was just what it was like in the Western USA, when there was capitalist blood in the water. When Dennis rapidly grew his company in 1985, one day he looked around and realized that most of his prominent employees were Mormons. Soon after the electric companies initiated that Attorney General’s investigation of Dennis’s company, Bill approached Dennis, saying that he was an electric company consultant (i.e., he was on the BPA’s payroll), who learned that working with the electric companies instead of against them was the way to go, and Bill could help smooth things between Dennis and the electric companies. Given that Dennis had been trying to work with the electric companies for years, Bill’s statements were ironic. Bill didn’t have Dennis fooled for an instant, nor did he fool Alison, but Dennis hired Bill, telling Alison that he wanted to keep his enemy close to him, to watch him (and feed him disinformation). IMO, that was one of the greatest strategic mistakes that Dennis ever made, he made it more than once, and I wonder if he finally learned his lesson. I will never invite suspected agents provocateurs into my efforts, and if any are discovered, or even begin to look like one, I will cast them out. You can’t dance with the devil and expect anything but disaster. Bill never did anything productive during his ten weeks at Dennis’s company, but tried befriending all of the key people in Dennis’s company, and just as the Attorney General struck, in an evil and cowardly move, orchestrated when Dennis was out of town, Bill tried to incite a mutiny from the inside. I have called it the “inside-outside job,” and it was replicated in Ventura, too, led by a Mormon con man on the inside. Then Bill engaged in a several month vendetta against Dennis’s company, he began it by driving one of Dennis’s employees to suicide, then engaged in many criminal acts against Dennis’s company, and capped it off with a fraudulent bankruptcy suit that slowly strangled the company. When Dennis’s company was finally stolen by Mormon grifters, Bill disappeared, leaving his dupes holding the bag, and reappeared years later to harry Dennis while posing as a “noted Tesla researcher,” as he lied to anybody and everybody about Dennis, and once again easily duped people. He acted in every way like a contract agent, like my close relative was for the CIA, and contract agents generally have to fend for themselves between assignments. The Ventura provocateur was eventually involved in a Mormon scam and recently got out of prison, after more than a decade of being behind bars, while Bill was more fortunate. As Bill did when developing his fake alternative energy credentials and in Seattle, he used the legal system as a weapon, but in Seattle, the legal system was his active and knowing accomplice. His actions were certainly part of a wide-ranging conspiracy. After Bill’s “Tesla researcher” days, he was on his own, and he sold some medical equipment related to scuba diving activities, but he would take in deposits and never deliver any equipment. Because he was about the only game on Earth for his equipment, when orders came from foreign customers, he would simply pocket the money and they had no recourse, but when American customers began complaining, Bill would then sue them. Most Americans will be stopped in their tracks when sued, not knowing how to navigate the legal system’s hall of mirrors, and I wonder if Bill was in a “friendly” jurisdiction, in Florida, where he pulled off that scam. Years later, Bill sold his scam company to a Fortune 500 biomedical company, and today is undoubtedly a hit man for the medical racket, in California, which is medical racket central. John Perkins also got one of those sweetheart deals, which is one way that the fortunate agents are compensated. That Ventura agent was more disposable. It is hard to say just when Bill became a Godzilla asset, but he became one along the way, and like Oswald, he may have been groomed for his path from the very beginning. Bill is going to a very dark place when he passes over, just like Mr. Deputy will, just like so many will who were sicced on Dennis over the years. Psychopaths like them can be very useful, but they are usually in the “break glass in case of emergency” type, with my relative being an asset who worked relatively cheaply because he naively believed in the “cause,” while those psychopaths labor under no such delusions. They are in the game only for themselves, and will instantly turn on their patrons if the opportunity presents itself, so they are like rabid dogs on leashes that have to be handled very carefully. There is no doubt in my mind that Bill is a Godzilla asset, but exactly when he became one is a little uncertain for me, but if it was before his Seattle performance, then it means that Godzilla was involved in taking down Dennis’s Seattle operation, and it was not just the local electric companies and a federal agency protecting their turf. Best, Wade

Hi: Dennis’s 1985 was the biggest run that anybody ever made to bring alternative energy to the American marketplace, and Dennis learned many important lessons that year, probably more than he learned in any other year of his life. That story is going to take some telling. That statement that I made in the previous post - that electric companies just want to sell as much of their product as possible - certainly should not be a big surprise to anybody, but it is also not just something that Dennis and I concluded one day: the electric companies openly admitted it to Dennis. When Dennis was with Mr. Big in Yakima and experimenting with the LamCo device and getting COPs of 12 making hot water, the local electric company sent an engineer to help Dennis. At that time, the apple farmers were using natural gas for heat, and when the electric companies saw Dennis going after that market with the LamCo heat pump, that electric company engineer was sent to help Dennis, as Dennis was going to be good for electric company business if he converted gas heating customers to electric heating. At COPs of 12, the operating cost in real energy terms would be a tiny fraction of gas heating, especially when the energy came from hydroelectric instead of burning coal or gas. What would be huge win for consumers would also be a win for the electric companies (and the environment, as fewer greenhouse gases would be created), with the natural gas companies being the losers. That electric company engineer frankly told Dennis that the entire “conservation” stance of the electric companies was fraudulent, as the electric companies wanted to sell as much electricity as possible, like any other company. That engineer admitted that the conservation programs that the electric companies were engaged in were designed to help prevent their all-electric customers, mainly homeowners, from converting to gas. The engineer was open about it, and when it looked like Dennis was just going after farms and produce processing plants that were heating with gas, Dennis looked like the electric companies’ best friend. But when Dennis began talking of carpeting Washington’s all-electric neighborhoods with the LamCo heat pump, that engineer got a horrified look in his eyes, left Dennis’s presentation, and Dennis never saw him again. But Dennis did not begin to figure it out until the next year. Early in his Seattle days, some Washington electric companies were saying that Dennis was a con man, that his heat pump would never work, and that he would just take the deposit money and skip town. He had heard that kind of stuff before, but Dennis truly thought that if the electric companies would just meet with Dennis, that they would see that he was an honest businessman who wanted to bring the electric conservation that their full-page ads said that they wanted. Dennis was undergoing cognitive dissonance in those days. That engineer came right out and said what the electric companies’ motivation was, but Dennis still thought that they would love what he was doing. Dennis even went so far as to place one of his LamCo heat pumps on a truck, making hot water, hooked up with all the gauges needed to prove its high COPs, and he literally parked it in electric company parking lots, begging them to come out and see it for themselves. Nobody ever came out, and Dennis could not understand why. This is where I need to present a psychological phenomenon that is very common, and it has to do with that cognitive dissonance. It is very similar to Kuhn’s idea of paradigms and scientific revolutions. That admission by that electric company engineer was an example of a data point that did not fit into Dennis’s paradigm. Dennis still believed those full-page ads, even when the electric companies began calling his program a scam, even when that engineer frankly told him what the electric companies’ true motivation was, which is the true motivation of any capitalistic organization. Dennis was merely guilty of psychological projection, and while perhaps not believing that they quite had his Boy Scout motivation, he did not believe that their motivation was evil (AKA self-serving above all else). The contrary data points were there, but Dennis had yet to arrive at that moment when he had his paradigm shift. Like me, he resisted it every step of the way. In June of 1985, just as Mr. Financier came aboard with his multimillion dollar commitment, Dennis still had no idea who was surreptitiously trying to wipe him out. It finally became clear when a newspaper article was published in which an electric company spokesman not only called Dennis’s company a scam, but he also called for the Attorney General to investigate Dennis’s company. They had now shifted to a frontal assault, and it was only then that Dennis began to get the message. Again, Dennis is a genius, but being a genius does not mean that you instantly incorporate the contrary information and have your paradigm shift. Often, the geniuses are the most resistant to having that paradigm shift, because they can get seduced by involved ideological systems, such as what has happened with mainstream scientists when they deny FE’s possibility with the “laws of physics” objection and they deny the reality of organized suppression as a “conspiracy theory.” Mainstream scientists are often the most entrenched of all against the idea of FE, which Brian discovered the hard way. So, the lightbulb finally went on for Dennis, at least regarding the electric companies, but he still resisted the implications of that fact for many years. Personal integrity is the world’s scarcest commodity (my journey’s primary lesson), and even the most idealistic organizations are largely fraudulent, as their survival is paramount, not their stated goals, and they end up working against their stated ideals, not for them. Sometimes it is as evil as it comes, as their conscious motivation is the opposite of their stated one, but more often, they just get corrupted by the need to survive and are often co-opted by vested interests. As crazy as that may seem, I have witnessed it many times in my journey, such as environmental organizations treating FE like the enemy. Best, Wade

Hi: I think that I have made my opinion of Dennis very clear: I don’t know of another like him on Earth. That said, Dennis is very human, with his foibles, limitations, and like, just as we all do. It comes with being human, but although Alison and I see him as very human, we are both amazed at the man. There is something highly special about him, and it is not his outsized personality, his amazing talents, or even his incredible drive; it is his big heart, above all. That was why I was with him, after that voice led me to him. Even I sometimes have a hard time believing it happened. For all of his worldliness, he still had a naïve faith in people to do the right thing when he knew that they almost never did. You really had to see that to believe it. Dennis lost his naïveté fitfully and slowly, and in many ways, his education was just beginning when he hit Seattle. When Sparky Sweet got his FE gizmo to work, he mailed off working prototypes to leading energy institutions, expecting the tickertape parade. The opposite happened, with Sparky coming to a grim and lonely end. Similarly, when Dennis hit Seattle, he really believed those full-page ads that the electric companies ran, begging for energy conservation. He truly thought that they were going to give him a tickertape parade, and he did everything that he could think of to attract their attention and work with them. He attracted their attention alright. They saw him as their greatest threat: he threatened to bring the conservation that they publicly said they wanted! Well, that might be a little inaccurate. What the electric companies really wanted was for their all-electric customers to buy heat pumps, which would halve their electricity consumption but keep them heating with electricity and not convert to natural gas. Dennis’s heat pump would reduce their electric consumption by more than 80%. That was far more conservation than the electric companies had in mind, almost as bad as losing the customer to natural gas. All corporations want to sell as much of their product as possible, preferably in a monopoly situation, which is where the big money is made, as Rockefeller and Gates demonstrated. Electric companies are no different. Capitalism is inherently evil and has nothing to do with free markets. There has never been a free market in world history, and all capitalists seek to control the market they are in, eliminate the competition, and milk the captive consumer. Even Adam Smith knew that. Capitalistic theory was developed by a servile academic class who were little more than court historians to the new rising class, and greed and fear are centerpieces of capitalistic theory. Dennis was about to learn important lessons about “free markets” in Seattle. Dennis hit town in October 1984, with little more than one year left on the tax credit, which made his Systems for Savings program work like it did. That bank that was building the LamCo system was in even worse shape than the usual LamCo companies, and they soon went out of business. When Dennis hit town, they were barely making and selling any. They were also building them according to the original patent, and an engineer barely out of college was building them, and had his nose in his textbooks. That kid was Mr. Young Engineer, who pronounced the LamCo heat pump’s performance “impossible,” even after he performed the “impossible” tests himself. It was like Dennis went into a time warp, watching cave men making clubs and stone tools. Dennis announced to the bank that their savoir had arrived, and they were amused by Dennis and had no idea who he was or even where the LamCo name came from. Dennis became one of their dealers, and Dennis noted the irony of becoming a dealer of the equipment of the company that he used to own. I believe it was in those days when Dennis met the man who bragged about stealing the LamCo patent. Dennis can start something from nothing. I helped him do it more than once. It is an incredible talent. In the early days, his associates are Joe Average types, swept up into Dennis’s efforts. Dennis has called it his “terrible talent.” If he had the bent of a Hitler, he would be a very dangerous man, but his heart is as pure as it gets. That bank did not play straight, and people double-crossed Dennis in those early days, as usual, but Dennis kept his head above water. His Systems for Savings program was the rocket, and by February 1985, he had stacked up more than a hundred contracts, far more than that bank ever sold. Dennis went to the bank, for them to fulfil their end of the deal, and got a shock when the bank’s representative terminated their relationship and told Dennis off the record that some big shadowy interests were trying to put Dennis out of business, and Dennis had no idea who that could be. Dennis was feeling like a mouse that some invisible cat was toying with, he had to reach out past Seattle for help, and that is when he met Mr. Financier in Spokane. Mr. Financier, like the chairman of the board of that household name financial company, was one of the few people capable of recognizing Dennis’s genius. I have found that it usually takes one to know one. People trapped in mundane “thinking” are really incapable of recognizing genius, even when it is right in front of them, and Dennis constantly had to deal with that. Mr. Financier had several million dollars that he was looking to place, he immediately understood what Dennis was doing, and got excited. As you can see from his statement, Mr. Financier’s company thoroughly checked out Dennis and his heat pump before getting involved. There were customers scattered around the USA who thought that Dennis was the world’s hero, they were so happy with their equipment. Dennis had hundreds of sales by early March, and just wanted somebody to build and install them as fast as he could sell them. With Mr. Financier coming aboard, it was beginning to look like Dennis’s dream of building an industry around that heat pump might actually happen. At Mr. Financier’s company, a youngster there, in his mid-20s, about my age at the time, took Dennis aside and said that what Mr. Financier really needed was to own stock, and Dennis soon found himself buying a shell company and going public, with Mr. Financier’s company owning 10%. Right after that, Dennis hired an accountant, Mr. Controller, to make sure that the stock deal was handled properly. That bank got out of the heat pump business altogether and soon went out of business, and the manufacturer in California, Bestec, went bankrupt with hundreds of systems on order from Dennis. So Dennis negotiated the lease on a factory. He was going to have to build those heat pumps himself. So much happened in a few months that it is going to take a few posts just to skim them, but by the end of summer, Dennis’s stock in his company was worth $50 million. From $20 in his pocket and no place to sleep to a $50 million net worth in less than a year. That was how fast Dennis could make things happen. Best, Wade

Hi: In Joe Bageant’s last book, he described America’s oligarchy, or at least its more visible members. Joe and Dennis were born in the same year and both escaped their agrarian roots because of the USA’s postwar boom, which is the human journey’s greatest period of prosperity. The USA is so “free” because it is so rich, not the other way around. Wealth is freedom, and our ancestors stole Earth’s richest continent and had the means to exploit it. But the USA, like all nations on Earth, is still afflicted by elites. The USA’s vaunted freedom is far more apparent than real, a huge illusion conjured by Hollywood and Madison Avenue. Bageant described the national and local oligarchies, in which the national oligarchy keeps the teeming masses in line, has undermined unions and the like, keeping the underclass down, which is a global phenomenon. Away from the USA’s big cities, the local oligarchies perform a subsidiary function, like feudal lords. Bageant wrote that all of the smaller communities had them. When Dennis moved to Yakima from New York and began trying to stir things up, he came to the attention of the local oligarchy, and one of them in particular, who began to court Dennis. He informed Dennis that without the local oligarchy’s support, Dennis was not going to make any headway in Yakima. What began to amaze Dennis when he went home was how much the energy situation had changed in Washington. Washington had the cheapest energy on Earth, with all of its hydroelectric projects in the watery Pacific Northwest, and electricity was one cent per kilowatt-hour, and the state was filled with all-electric homes, in which the heating was performed by electricity, not burning gas, oil, or coal. During Nixon’s nuclear fever years (which Brian helped douse), it was projected that Washington would soon run out of that cheap energy, and plans to build nuclear power plants in Washington were hatched. Like all nuclear power plants, the hype was much greater than the reality, the costs were always an order of magnitude or so higher than projected, and of the five nuclear plants that construction was begun on, only one was completed, with the others abandoned in various states of completion. The electric companies, led by the federal agency that managed the hydroelectric dams – the Bonneville Power Administration (AKA “BPA”) – had raised billions of dollars in municipal bonds to build those reactors, and their abandonment led to the biggest municipal bond default in American history at the time, and the Washington Public Power Supply System (WPPSS) that floated the bonds began to be called “Whoops.” In early 1982, when I lived with my grandparents in Seattle after graduating from college, the Whoops situation dominated the TV news every night. Two years later, when Dennis went home, he was greeted by full-page ads run by the electric companies, stating that electricity conservation was the cheapest form of generation. Electricity was projected to go from one penny per kilowatt-hour to ten to pay for the Whoops mess. Suddenly, a market for Dennis’s energy conservation technologies, especially the LamCo heat pump, looked more than feasible. Dennis had less than two years’ worth of tax credit left to build an industry around his heat pump. And as usual, nobody could see it, mired in their egocentric perspectives, which crippled their ability to understand the brilliance of what Dennis was attempting, as the horizons of their awareness always ended at the limits of their immediate self-interest. As Mr. Big in Yakima courted Dennis, Dennis began experimenting with the LamCo heat pump. In agricultural Eastern Washington, the world’s apple capital, they used huge amounts of hot water for food processing, and Dennis set up the LamCo heat pump in the summer sunshine of Yakima, where temperatures reached 100 degrees Fahrenheit regularly, and they got up to a COP of 12 while making hot water. Mr. Big made it theatrically clear to Dennis that unless he worked through him and the local oligarchy, that he was not going anywhere with his efforts. He courted Dennis hard and kind of coerced him to become his partner. Obviously, Dennis was wary of another partnership situation. Mr. Big was incapable of understanding the potential of Dennis’s marketing program, combined with the LamCo heat pump, and he fell in love with a solar system that looked like R2-D2, because it looked sexy and Space Age. It was a crappy piece of equipment, performance-wise, performing with a COP of two-to-three, putting out maybe 10,000 BTUs, or 10% of Dennis’s heat pump, at a quarter of the efficiency. But Mr. Big fell in love with its sexy design, it was dubbed “The Bubble,” and Dennis ended up dealing with the inventor, who lived in Seattle. Between the inventor and his wife, they had the typical inventors’ afflictions of greed, paranoia, naïveté, etc. Dennis was planning on going big with the LamCo heat pump, but Mr. Big was entranced by the bubble, and really, Dennis and The Bubble were little more than trophies to Mr. Big, to show off to his buddies in the local oligarchy. Dennis wasted six months of his life with The Bubble. Mr. Big told Dennis that nobody would buy the LamCo heat pump when they could have The Bubble, and Dennis replied that nobody cared what it looked like if it saved them money. For Alison, in the wake of her son’s death and her daughters’ reaching school age, she got to pursue her Florence Nightingale interests and worked with the various charities in the area and played full-time mother, while Dennis had his adventures with Mr. Big and The Bubble. Mr. Big kept putting the brakes on everything that Dennis wanted to do, and Dennis was increasingly frustrated. By the autumn of 1984, Mr. Big began telling people that he no longer needed Dennis around. As fate would have it, Dennis heard where LamCo’s patent ended up, in Seattle of all places, and a bank was actually building the LamCo heat pump in Seattle. The LamCo dealer who essentially stole the LamCo patent bragged to Dennis about how he stole the patent, and Dennis mustered all of his Christian benevolence to not wring the man’s neck, who helped blow apart a billion dollar deal to carpet the USA with the LamCo heat pump. Dennis instead laughed, walked away, and concluded that the time was not right for God’s plan, if it was thwarted that easily. In October 1984, in a beat-up station wagon with bald tires, Dennis ended his partnership with Mr. Big, and with only $20 in his pocket and no place to sleep, Dennis and his family drove over the mountains from Yakima to Seattle. Dennis had little more than a year left on Carter’s tax credit, and he planned to make that year count. Best, Wade