“You Bury Me — Part 1″
…a fall of 75 feet or more onto a hard surface…bridges will serve.
—The CIA Assassination Manual, 1952
Recall that the FBI has been historically (among other things) the domestic arm of the intelligence community. When CIA has a problem on American soil, it is supposed to ask for FBI’s aid in dealing with it. Leaks, for example. Allegations of connections between the domestic (FBI turf) antiwar movement and foreign (CIA turf) terrorist organizations. We saw an example of the latter in the Twin Cities when FBI raided the homes of several protestors and there was a resulting protest in front of their building on Washington Avenue .
Whistleblower Coleen Rowley  showed up. A local NPR affiliate was there along with some some other news outlets.
I recognized a few faces from various political functions including a visit from then-DNC chairman Governor Tim Kaine at Rep. Keith Ellison’s office during the recent midterm elections where they had been protesting outside. Some of them were those later being investigated (as a reporter of my acquaintance once suggested about me, probably it was the Democrats who got those people into trouble. Really that party is 99% full of s— and enjoys their wars as much as the American Nazi Party, which some people still cling to referring to as the GOP).
Then there was “Magnus”, a war protestor who was assaulted by assailants unknown in a manner not unlike the unsolved attack on Dan Rather . Magnus is not his real name, that was the name he took when he decided the fight for peace was not worth the personal pricetag attached and became sort of “religious” via yoga and spiritualism. I had seen Magnus at many of the events I attended.
This is the return of the old MHCHAOS program, where the Nixon administration sought proof and the aid of the intelligence community in linking the war protest movement to the USSR and/or the Chinese . The hilarious theater that took place in the Nixon White House included CIA refusing the request for some time before agreeing even though they were already doing it before being asked to do so. Hoover refused and/or dragged his feet about doing what they asked so CIA had to handle it themselves on American soil was the logic. Their excuse: blaming the Huston Plan . See the pattern? It’s always someone else’s fault, even when they act unilaterally. If caught, they just shift the lie to another narrative. The Huston Plan wasn’t actually implemented.
The result: not a single real connection found, CIA field personnel resentful of being asked to spy on Americans, and no accountability resulting in having to relive it today where the fear of radical fundamentalism has replaced the “Red Scare” and McCarthyism as excuses for dramatic displays of righteous anger, distractions from theft and graft, and excuses for infringements on civil rights that make the theft and graft easier to do. Hence the death of the middle class .
Previous to those raids, there were the problems surrounding the “RNC Eight”  and many other protestors arrested during the 2008 RNC convention in St. Paul. One such person was Dan. Dan had been arrested, then charges had been dropped, and he went to work for the Census. Not long after being there, he was fired because of his arrest at the RNC.
Keep in mind as you read how I met him and a few others that I believe he was being blackmailed / coerced by the FBI into being an informant. Of course, that’s not really the correct term. FBI was attempting to get people like Dan to entrap other people. This common practice  was what prompted one of my later visits to the FBI (that and seeking an end to the harassment).
An additional technical detail about these kinds of operations is that the operatives frequently add non-operatives to their group as cover. It adds color to the camouflage. This makes them seem more like what they are trying to pretend to be. One or two operatives add one or two people to their number who either know nothing about the goal of the operation or only know a very limited amount about it and have no idea that a government entity is involved. They may be given disinformation about the intended target so as to get them to go along with a particular plan of action that is either illegal, harmful to the target, or both. These “camouflage” dupes can also serve as patsies should there be charges filed. I’m reasonably certain that Chris, the latter addition to the group I met, fell into this category.
Here we have an organization (the FBI) being told who-knows-what about me by some other member(s) of the intel community who in turn attempts to engineer what they think they know about me into a series of traps. And it didn’t end there despite having avoided the traps and attempted to do the right thing.
What I’m detailing below is more akin to COINTELPRO  than anything else.
It is very late on June 11 or very early on 12, 2010 and I’ve gone out because of some impulse to do so.
The past two weeks have been among the strangest and toughest up to this point. Besides fighting multiple delusions planted there by repeated voice-to-skull sessions and PSYOPs, the parties responsible spent ten days straight “beating” me up via V2S to suggest something I know is not true. Though generally the sessions lasted only a hour and a half or so, you spend the rest of the day attempting to sleep off the emotional fatigue and rid your mind of what they’ve been filling it with. This is brainwashing, or “brainhacking” as I prefer to call it.
They tried and tried to get me to buy off on the lie that the entire situation with Peter Watts was an elaborate publicity stunt coordinated by Peter and Cory Doctorow. Although I knew and know there is no way this is the case, it didn’t help that something had been going on in Canada as well. Clear to me now, they had been pitting us all against each other, sewing distrust. My odd behavior, as I’ve noted previously, due to loss, harassment, drugging, electronic remote torture via voice-to-skull or similar technology based on the Frey effect frequently had me saying things that were directed at the “ghosts” responsible but via messages to other people I knew who likely could make no sense of it. There was no other outlet. Where were the people who did this? Hiding in the shadows. This frustrating fact is undoubtedly what contributed to events like the Navy Yard shooting .
They had started pushing that disinfo narrative, about it being a publicly stunt, almost two weeks previous to this evening in June. Every day, they pushed and pushed for me to contact authorities with that phony explanation.
That narrative could not explain why Kate Conway’s home was burnt to the ground and the seeming cause being three relatives of the primary Squidgate accuser much less the overabundance of cloak-and-dagger garbage I witnessed–and could not hide what it really was: an operation by one or more of our public and/or private intelligence organizations. Additionally, as a “convicted felon”, Peter Watts may not be able to enter the United States. That’s a large market he cannot visit. Some publicity stunt.
A probable assassination attempt in February of 2011 will prove that their explanation was a lie, that my instincts were correct. It was tiring fighting it off, though, and I knew I could not hold out forever. They pushed it day after day. There had to be a way to seem to satisfy the growingly impatient operatives pushing that deception and yet not actually doing what they were prompting me to do. In the meantime, before figuring out what that would be, I set arbitrary deadlines for myself, held out until I had examined a particular hypothesis a bit further a few days later. Once those were exhausted, it was time to try something else.
I started an argument via email with Peter. I waited to see what the reaction would be locally. It was obvious to me that there would be one. They wanted that or something like it too badly to leave it there.
Ten or fifteen minutes after the end of the email exchange I “heard” a voice say, via voice-to-skull: “Yeah! Retribution!” and my iPhone suffered an “error” and skipped from whatever was playing to a track that was, actually, called “Retribution” (a free download from the makers of the EVE Online MMORPG, a good scifi space opera game that also has some great music). I could practically feel their relief after having beat me up for ten days to do something along these lines and I had resisted for so long.
Note, I don’t know if that iPhone is “special” or not, just that it’s predecessor got pickpocketed the Wednesday night–actually early the Thursday morning–before the Squidgate trial. Probably any iPhone can be so hacked and remote controlled .
As noted in Chapter 3? [not written yet] there had been the crossing of a different bridge, one under construction, some time in May.
There was little surprise when three young men walked straight up to me and asked me to join them. Something had to happen and this was it. Walter was first to approach and speak. He was a thin 24 year old gay man. He immediately noted the button I wore on my jacket with a keen sense of irony, I HEART BRIDGES. Said irony resulted from the Blue Water Bridge connecting Port Huron to Sarnia where Peter Watts was arrested, the other two bridges I had just crossed weeks before and, I wasn’t aware of it yet, but the quote at top of this chapter from that book). It was obvious this was the “reply” to the provocations.
Now we were standing on yet another bridge. Just wait.
The three of them were all rather slight in build and I didn’t feel the least bit threatened physically as a result of that. Neither were they particularly hostile or seeming capable of violence.
Walter and I traded banter back and forth most of the evening. He seemed to be the ringleader, but I would discover later (at a party) that Dan was probably a lot smarter but not so outgoing and so let Walter do most of the talking.
Jared and Dan were dating. Jared was also 24, Dan was 20. They had played D&D and utilized at times The Book of Erotic Fantasy, an unofficial (sometimes contentious) supplement to spice the game up for amorous couples, lonely nerds, and dirty-minded teens. This was interesting because I had at one time been a player, a playtester, and friend of a few game designers. We had largely interacted on Yuku, a messageboard system that replaced EZBoard, which you may recall was hacked in 2005.
The gaming supplement had come up more than once on the boards.
Walter also took some glee in telling me about how he had been disappointed on his birthday when some people he expected did not show up. “Interestingly”, I had a similar experience in January of 2010 when we went to see Avatar and “we” wound up being several less than expected. But that might have been directed more towards Janus not showing up in Minneapolis and being told that via V2S during Juneteenth.
The first stop on this evening’s crazy train was climbing under the Stone Arch Bridge which was why they claimed to be there in the first place. (Again, recall that this is after I deliriously and recently crossed one under construction).
They asked me to join them in their climb. I declined. Walter even kissed me just before climbing over the railing and onto the ladder, but that didn’t change my mind. (In fact, the kiss was rather passionless…hard to find good help I suppose–though the vice versa can also be true). I told them I’d call 9-1-1 if they anyone fell. The bridge has a crawl space thingy on it’s belly. I also note that it’s Federal property I’m reasonably certain, given that not long after I’d be handed a map of the area by the National Park Service.
After they reemerged from under the bridge on the other end of the crawl space, they told me about the social services that Minnesota has to offer. I had no idea those things would be available to me, so that was welcome advice (that in retrospect, to a small degree, reminds me of Laurence Olivier’s creepy performance in Marathon Man when he gives Dustin Hoffman’s character advice just before drilling into his teeth with the full knowledge that he’s going to have him killed once he gets the answer he wants… “Enjoy it. It’s the last time people won’t expect anything from you,” to “Is it safe?”). What prompted the conversation was Walter asking me if I had health insurance and the resulting bizarre silence that followed my answer in the negative.
Walter also told me that if I saw flashlights and lanterns in the nearby flour mill ruins that that was their group hanging out at night. About a month after these events, they installed large spotlights in those ruins.
We headed off for beer and pizza. Along the way, I was told by the Jared that they used to pretend to be, but now they really are, ecoterrorists. I never found out precisely what it was they actually did that made them think they had struck some blow for Mother Nature. Attempting to ascertain that and curiosity about what was really in store as the evening wore on were the primary reasons for sticking around with them.
They opened manhole covers along the way, examining the contents. I asked Dan if he had these mapped as they indicated they had been doing this for some time. He just pointed to his head, that he was memorizing them.
Some of these tunnels contained cellphone equipment and lines. Others, something to do with the City’s heating system. Many were empty, blocked up mudholes, or inaccessible.
One stop (the 501 Bar which is located behind a gay bar called The Eagle) involved a brief meeting with their supposed “eco-terror cell leader”, a youngish woman with short blond hair whom I was told was a lesbian. She implied to Walter that I was not wanted around (which launched various double entebdres that could be construed as sex or murder in a deserted place like a cave…or a blocked up sewer tunnel). Though all this was already pushing the boundaries of credibility, the “young gay ecoterrorist group run by a lesbian” really pushed it over the top. Her inability to make eye contact with me coupled with the whole evening’s innuendo really poured on the tongue-in-cheek.
At the 501, I gave Dan my cell number and asked him to text me.
He did so. Jared was about to object, but stopped himself. Was he worried that whatever was going to happen that night might be traced back as a result of that text? I know that that was why I actually asked him to do it.
The first of several lids they opened were primarily in the back alleys of Downtown Minneapolis. When I suggested this activity might perk the interest of MPD, I was told that they were mostly concerned with other matters.
Along the way to more urban exploration, they added a fourth person. Chris, closer to 30, perhaps 6’1″, and with an athletic build. Now I had reason to consider that Walter’s innuendos might have some teeth and the reasons for finding a nice cave (natural or manmade tunnels) might be hazardous to my health. Chris worked at the famous music venue, First Avenue. At Pizza Luce, Chris suggested to Walter that he “practice” on their acquaintance Tim. It was another of those, “sex or death or something else?” triple-meanings. Walter had purposely and pointedly brought up adding Chris to me as if his arrival might mean something important. It was a double-entendre, sort of a Rorschach test: would I assume Walter’s mustache-twisting performance meant that they intended me harm? F—, yes. Whether they would actually follow through to do so was another question altogether.
As we progressed along and it got later, we wound up in more and more remote locations. I think one of them (based on the map I found later) was on the property of the Federal Reserve. It was a big blank wall in a parking lot next to our next destination: the railroad tracks leading from Downtown across the Mississippi, onto Nicolett Island, and into NE or SE Minneapolis.
While attempting to open the one in the parking lot, Walter was bent over sufficiently so I could see his underwear. They had Chinese writing on them, don’t know what brand that was. In retrospect, this pushed things well into the informant category, where they were looking for radicals of any sort: communists, eco-terrorists, whatever. Walter, for whatever reasons (self-loathing homo, blackmailed by FBI) was on a fishing expedition.
They hopped over the railing and down to the railroad tracks. Hilariously, Jared offered me a hand to help prevent me getting injured. That’s when I also noticed, despite the recent rainfall, there was a clean, dry bundle of hay sitting there to jump down safely onto. This didn’t occur to me at the time (remember, drugged silly) but became obvious later, this was a set stage.
On the way to the next lid, deciding better-safe-than-sorry would be a good policy, I picked up a torn beer can and folded it into a crude knife. If nothing else, I could scratch Chris’ face or nick an eyelid, and make a run for it if there was an attempt at burying yours truly alive.
Further on, I found a better weapon and “traded up” from the (D&D joke, has to happen) -1 cursed dagger to a +1 club. Like the hay, this thing was not wet nor covered with dirt like everything else laying around. This was a prop that had been placed after the rainfall.
It’s proper use is as a tool of some sort. I still haven’t found the proper name for it, but I think it’s a disposable thing used to drive railroad ties into the ground, contains a one-shot charge that is fired to force them down or enhance the force behind the swing of the hammer behind it.
One other strange thing is that the item was noisy, rattly. None of the others seemed to notice the noise, which should have been an indication that this was largely theater. They knew and expected me to pick it up, having placed it there for that purpose.
When we got to the last cover, Dan and Jared walked off. The narrative seemingly was that they couldn’t bare to watch what was going to happen next. Apparently Chris, at Walter’s command, was going to knock, throw, or otherwise force me into the hole to be left to bleed, drown, or otherwise be trapped unless and until I could escape.
As we stood there, the club up a sleeve ready to smack Chris’ skull if he made a move toward me, Walter and Chris gave each other a look that defies easy explanation in English (I told Holder and Mueller in an email that it was Mamihlapinatapei  in which I gave them grief about what happened that night). After a few seconds, they seemed to give up and we made our way across the railroad bridge. They slid down a hill under the Grain Belt Beer sign on Nicolett Island and I went home.
The narrative that came out from all of this, the new lie that they pushed, was that these people, Dan, Walter and Jared, were the associates of the news site friend of the Squidgate accused. Unfortunately, given my extremely confused state of mind at the time and the continued harassment that followed these events, that one stuck for a while. However, I decided that these young men were mostly fantasizing despite all that and were mostly harmless. It would take some time and additional information before the truth dawned on me.
1. Protests at FBI building over investigation of anti-war protesters accused of supporting “the enemy.”
See also Jimmy Carter saying that the definition given would have included him.
2. Colleen Rowley on 9/11 failures.
3. “What’s the frequency, Kenneth?” attack on Dan Rather.
4. MHCHAOS effort to tie protesters to foreign intelligence services.
5. History Commons, John Charles Huston:
Read it and compare to today.
6. HuffPo-Google search, “Death of the middle class”:
7. The RNC 8.
8. Aaronson, Trevor, “The Informants,” Mother Jones, Sept./Oct. 2011:
But shortly after 9/11, President George W. Bush called FBI Director Robert Mueller to Camp David. His message: never again. And so Mueller committed to turn the FBI into a counterintelligence organization rivaling Britain’s MI5 in its capacity for surveillance and clandestine activity. Federal law enforcement went from a focus on fighting crime to preventing crime; instead of accountants and lawyers cracking crime syndicates, the bureau would focus on Jack Bauer-style operators disrupting terror groups.
And the US became a kleptocracy over a false-flag attack run by NATO.
9. AARC Library, Church-Tower Hearings, “Vol. 6 – FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION”:
10. Jones, Alan, “42 days after ‘microwave mind control’ complaint, Alexis kills 12″, Washington Times Communities, 18 September 2013:
Microwave mind-control technology was developed over fifty years ago during the height of the Cold War. Among the established effects of microwave weapons are sleep deprivation, a symptom that NBC News reports Alexis received treatment for.
McDuffee, Allen, “Conspiracy Theories Abound After Navy Yard Shooting,” WIRED, 20 September 2013:
Compare the articles above with FBI’s “ELF was a Navy underwater thing that went nowhere” narrative.
Note also, again, witnesses claiming multiple shooters and FBI insisting there was only Alexis. They will trot psychologists out to say this is a common misperception among witnesses to violence and try to explain it away. It is also what you would do if you had one person made unstable and therefore unreliable when you wanted a lot of bloodshed to fulfill your agenda in a false-flag attack; have additional shooters to ensure casualties. This is classic Operation GLADIO.
11. Article on government’s ability to take over various iPhone functions remotely which I need to find again (seen on Twitter in recent weeks, probably from an #anon account).
12. Matador Network, 20 Awesomely Untranslatable Words from Around the World, 2010:
Note that the title for this chapter and the next two also came from that article. There’s nothing like pointing out that the Arabic language contains a phrase for “I can’t bear to live without you” to make at least a thinking person wonder where the media’s image of the mad, angry bomber comes from.