Wicked Game – Chapter 33


Glitter on the wet streets. Silver over everything.

I’m going to be telling some of this backwards… or sideways. That’s how I picked it up, so it will only make sense dramatically out of chronological order. Mostly this will effect the next chapter.

Handed boxes and a rental truck agreement, I was kicked out towards the end of March, before the tax deadline as we had agreed. Someone at Google had been telling my ex that the Twin Cities were the place for writers, artists and musicians so that sounded as good as any.

This was also the location of the FBI field office that dealt with individuals learning to fly but not land planes in August 2001 or so [1].

It was also home to writer Neil Gaiman whom I had contacted about Watts’ plight at some point, where the bridge had collapsed and Paul Wellstone was popular, and the place where Bob Dylan supposedly came up with “All Along the Watchtower” as a child at Prospect Park and its “witchhat” water tower. None of those reasons I was particularly conscious of.

Note that someone named Nina Gislop apparently donated some money to Watts’ defense fund. I do not now believe that was Mr. Gaiman even though this donation was by someone whom Watts stated disappeared from the web as soon as she made the donation and note the initials and number of letters in the name are identical.

Note that Gaiman was having some odd occurrences around that time as well. Sleep deprivation due to pulled fire alarms in hotels with interviews the next morning, the loss of at least one pet, and a few other things.

I never really discovered if it was true about the arts there. I joined the Twin Cities’ scifi writers group briefly and got freaked out by a number of things and so stopped going.

Hilariously, at the first meeting I got involved in a “this is how you do it” debate involving sending promo material to prospective publishers. One fascinating one was written in the subculture jargon of the characters in the novel. Rather than say, “This is what it’s about,” it was a teaser for the style. At first, I thought this might not work, but I said, it might in some circumstances.

There was a brief exchange between the promo/novel author and another writer who clearly had different ideas about this. The author told the other writer, “My book might not be one you would enjoy reading,” indicating that her target audience is different.

From the plot as I understood it, I brought up a book I had read…sort of Dungeons & Dragons meets Ocean’s Eleven. It’s called The Lies of Lock Lamora. (A friend had recommended it and let me borrow it in ’09. We had done something similar in playing a Sherlock Holmes type character in a D&D game I was running before my life fell apart.)

The author’s eyes went wide and lit up.

“Read the dedication.”

Out of all of the writers in the world I could have met, I met–and defended–the one who had helped the writer of the very first book I brought up and that writer had earned the author’s thanks enough to make it in the front of it. I’m not even sure how many coincidences that was all at once.

Soon after, her mother was very ill (like my ex’s had been) and had a stack of medical bills she could not cope with. The writer raised some cash by naming characters in a novel after people who donated in the online draft. It has been published, and I was surprised to find she kept our names once it went to press [2].

But that and some other weirdness, I stopped going. Violation after violation of federal law, does not matter to these people. They wanted me isolated so they could drive me to suicide or violence. This is how the federal government operates, even under Barack Obama. Both parties collude on this gigantic lie. There are members of Congress who surely know and hide it. Obama’s people know also, or does Congress now run the Executive? No, it’s greedy soldiers and spooks with strong ties to Wall Street that run things. The government is their punk.

I had also at last gotten to the clinic and found out that it was not in fact colon cancer but rather a hemorrhoid. This from a doctor who griped to his brand new patient about Obamacare.

When I called my ex with the “good news” that I did not have cancer and was not dying, he stated flatly that he had figured it was something like that. This is what he had been thinking when I had told him and he stared off into space, smiling in late February. (Yes…synthetic telepathy… voice-to-skull… brainhacking… Call it what you will. Not even decades of history can overcome it apparently).

And then there was the film experience, the 48-hour festival from inception to showing, that was just bizarre in June of ’10, I think. I’ll come back to that.

In the meanwhile, there was a letter-writing campaign to the governor of Michigan at the time, Jennifer Granholm. A friend of Peter’s had been the ringleader in getting people to send those. She had a recommended bit of text and suggested content.

I would note a few things about Peter’s friend, from what I gathered through exchanges and blog posts on the interwebs. First, she’s loyal and protective. I was incredibly happy to learn Peter had a friend like that. It meant that maybe she could see in his blind spots, and if there was a wolf in sheep’s clothing in Toronto, she might notice if he didn’t. She had just a touch of suspicion, maybe just a little paranoid, which is not a bad thing under the circumstances. The more suspicious she seemed of me, the happier I was. “A woman after my own heart,” I thought.

And then there was the morning, mere days before the sentencing hearing, when I woke up and my hair didn’t feel right. When I put my hand to my head, my hair was falling out. It felt “dead.” Looked in the mirror and essentially lost three inches or so of hairline. When I later went back to Port Huron (this time by plane, train and taxi), it was so curly I could hardly notice it, but certainly can since.

I also note that keanani, another commenter on Peter’s blog, said something along the lines of “Beer for hair, eh?” I cannot recall if this was before or after I bought some hair restoration items.

However, there was a funny incident regarding hair in 1990 at the NJSF. I was playing a friar in Measure for Measure that season and started wearing my hair in that faux Jesuit way even when not rehearsing until I got the feel for it.

I’ve never gotten so many anti-compliments in my life. “Ruprect” from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels was one of names I got called by another intern.

So all that brought the NJSF to mind as well.

In any case, the stuff made hair grow (or so I rationalized) where even at my age, I had heretofore not known there were even hair follicles for it to grow. What existed already (but not that which I lost), grew in length. You know, like a werewolf’s.


And so, always one for contingency plans, I’d just had enough. I got a little drunk and started planning out what in the film The Thirteenth Warrior was referred to as an engineering dispute. (Sort of. Think what it might take to get a mistrial or a new trial–provoke the accuser into again losing his temper, this time publicly.)

Whoever was behind all of this nonsense seemed beyond me…my reach and even figuring out who it might be. So, maybe I’d go for the devil I knew even if he was just another dupe.

Just when I had it all in mind enough to implement, improvise, do it in my sleep, I became violently ill. I did associate one thing with the other and therefore dropped the idea entirely.

But at the same time I came to realize that the whole hair thing had also been used to cover up slipping me something (hormones? [3]) to make me more violent. Testosterone, perhaps. Two players (at least) one drugging me into a wild maniac while the other a hippie, peace and love flower child [4].

I figured this because I noticed the hair growth almost immediately (except where I lost it) and stopped using the supplements. Yet, the hair growth and the moodiness continued for over a year.

I am fairly certain that that’s illegal even in this sham of a country. If it happened to someone important, they’d be all over it. Happens to someone who can’t afford even a moderate campaign contribution, and you can forget it. No such thing as justice being blind here. That bitch is peaking out and deciding who she helps and who she doesn’t.

Risk of exposing the fact that the 99% are the anytime-puppets of the 1%? No way. Keep you alive so as to avoid the embarassment of the story ending on your watch, but actually resolve it? “Eat shit and die.” The law doesn’t matter when it’s an inconvenience. The system does not accommodate the truth when it really matters.

As usual, they drilled the idea into my head that whatshisname would be at the sentencing hearing even though he had skipped the trial. The fact that I would have been there anyway meant that ensuring my presence there was likely not the motive for setting up that and other high expectations. No. Someone wanted a violent reaction based around an engineered misunderstanding, extreme frustration due to harassment and “misfortune,” remote electronic torture, surreptitious doping, and all around scumbaggery.

They are still doing it, today, right now as I write this. They think that their best defense is to keep doing it because the psychology is, “Why would they continue after it’s been exposed?” They are supreme liars. They are the types who, if caught in bed with someone other than their spouse who also had photographic evidence, would just deny it until the spouse got tired of trying to get them to admit it. “You didn’t see what you thought you saw,” they would say until the spouse believed it. It’s the oldest liar’s trick. Just stick with the lie until it’s accepted as the truth.

They will stick to delusional (because they know that they drugged me), paranoid (because they know that they harassed me), and unstable (because they know that they tortured and ruined me). That’s just “how the world works.”

…because they can. They can because anything goes after 9/11. Because 9/11 is the result of what they did. They continue…

Watch that paragraph go around and round and round.

1 As well as several other connections.

History Commons, “Minneapolis FBI” search


2 The Circus of Brass and Bone, Abra SW, Bimulous Books, 2015, 0986377503, 978-0986377501


3 Clomifene, also known as Clomid, clomiphene and several other names may be what I was slipped. It is both inhibits estrogen and increases natural testosterone production and is banned as a steroid performance-enhancer in many sports.

R.S. Tan and D. Vasudevan, “Use of clomiphene citrate to reverse premature andropause secondary to steroid abuse,” Fertil Steril 79 (1): 203–5. doi:10.1016/s0015-0282(02)04550-8. PMID 12524089.

It can cause high levels of triglycerides and liver problems, both of which I had in the early 2000s as well as “reversible baldness.”

S. Rossi, editor. Australian Medicines Handbook 2006. Adelaide: Australian Medicines Handbook; 2006. ISBN 0-9757919-2-3

It is also stocked in Guantanamo Bay’s medical facility.

Jeff Kaye, “CIA Investigation Minimizes Use of Drugs on Rendition & Black Site Detainees,” FireDogLake, 11 May 2015:


In addition, the detainee hospital also had supplies of a very old malaria drug, quinacrine, as well as the fertility drug Clomid. Why detainees would need a drug that affected hormone levels of estrogen or testosterone is unknown. However, while the hospital stocked these drugs, the SOP indicated that physician assistants were prohibited from prescribing them.

With regards to drugs, besides MKULTRA and the regularly associated programs, eg, BLUEBIRD, ARTICHOKE, etc., there was MKOFTEN which was a joint CIA project with the Department of Defense.

David Corn, “Where’s the CIA’s Missing Jewel?,” The Nation, 26 June 2007:


One memo notes that CIA had a Project OFTEN that collected “data on dangerous drugs from U.S. firms” until the program was terminated in the fall of 1972. Another memo reports that commercial drug manufacturers “passed on” to the CIA drugs “rejected because of unfavorable side effects” These drugs were then tested using volunteers from the U.S. military.

Somehow or other, CIA’s director of technical services, Sidney Gottlieb, got fortune-tellers, psychics, and Satanists mixed up in MKOFTEN, at least according to Gottlieb himself. Most likely, this was cover for working closely with large pharmaceutical companies and something to hide the truth should any of the program be discovered.

The NYC subway system release of harmless anthrax “cousin” spores by breaking light bulbs filled with them on 6 June 1966 by the US Army may have been part of MKOFTEN. Note the date: 6/6/66. Spooks do have a sense of humor, however dark and twisted.

4 And the 5 May 1955 draft MKULTRA memorandum again.

11. Substances which will produce “pure” euphoria with no subsequent let-down.

Between these two sort of conflicting drugs my behavior at the time likely resembled manic-depression or bipolar disorder. I have neither.


3 thoughts on “Wicked Game – Chapter 33

  1. Pingback: Wicked Game Chapter 33 | McCoyote

  2. Pingback: Contents | Wicked Game

  3. Pingback: Bio-Effects of Micro/Radiowave Research | McCoyote

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