WADE FRAZIER : A Healed Planet

[Wade Frazier]

Hi Steve C:

I can't speak for the others, but am doing OK.

Attached is a pic where I hiked with a bud yesterday. It can never be too bad in that kind of country. The blueberries were heavenly, too.

Best

Wade

[Ernie Nemeth]

Wow Wade, I'm envious. It has been a long time since I lived in the mountains (Penticton British Columbia for 5 years)! I forgot how much I miss it.

I posted this in response to a news item at Yahoo Canada about the proposed Keystone Pipeline that would extend from northern Alberta all the way south across the entire continent to Texas refineries:

Please listen. Listen carefully. Just once, remove your own bias and listen. We have significant alternative methods of clean, unlimited, free energy awaiting our use. Study the Flower of Life! The Seed of Life! The Fruit of Life! These are not Kaballah teachings - not the Tree of Life... This is Sacred Geometry! The secret of all mathematics, physics, chemistry etc. You have not been told the truth. Harmonics, vibrations and sound are the basis of reality, not the four forces of modern scientific theory. They are only approximations purposely taught to blind you to the truth. Peace to all and may The Most High God keep you safe in the coming times of tribulation!

[Robert J. Niewiadomski]

We have simmilar pending situation in Poland. It is not tar sands fever. We got shale gas fever Almost everybody is jumping up how rich and energetically independent Poland will get. But there is no single polish company that can afford licence to use the technology or drill one hole. Halliburton & Co is already here to help. And politicians are all happy to give it a go. In France fraking is banned (suppossedly thanks to public outrage). But most interestingly they have a plenty of their nukes. In Poland we have our cherished by generations enemy Russia and GazProm. Despite taxmoney sponsored analisis of risks fraking poses, politics use the GazProm stick and profits carrot to round everybody into shale gas pit... And we have elections in next week so things will certainly move very fast to secure some perks...

[Wade Frazier]

Hi Guys:

Ernie, I took my wife to Okanagan country a few weeks ago, for her first time. Nice part of the world. Good luck with the frakking Halliburtons, etc. The vested interests are impressive, and none of those mentioned are at the Godzilla level. Godzilla just makes sure that the game continues. The house always wins. In the USA, we are able to slaughter millions of people and steal their oil and gas, in the name of Freedom®! That is truly The American Way.

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/america.htm#invading

One person focusing on the FE vision is worth a thousand (Ten thousand? More?) protestors.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

There is a movie, an old one, titled They Live.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/They_Live

Its premise is not much different than that negative world that Roads visited:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/visions.htm#roadsblade

There are times when the They Live premise is practically shoved in my face, in ways that seem intentional. Most of the indoctrination and conditioning is what we perform on each other, but there are also orchestrators. I work in a high-rise, and a few years ago, they began putting up a kind of TV screen in the elevators, and most people look at them as they go up, or they look at their smart phones these days. They literally call the service “Captivate,” and the standard presentations are sports scores, market numbers, the weather, and so on. It is pretty innocuous, but they also have an “expand your vocabulary word of the day” feature that often makes some subtle dig on current affairs. Also some headline news makes it on there. Today as I got on, there was an article titled something like, “Dealing with the important stuff.” As you know, “stuff” is one of my favorite words at Avalon (that I may never use on my site), and when I saw the headline with “stuff” in it, it looked like a title that was intended to be ironic. The article was about how in a world in crisis, people focused on the most inane things that they beseech the White House with, and it gave two examples. The first was asking the White House to acknowledge the ET presence, and the other was doing away with pennies and nickels. The ET issue is joined with the hip with the FE issue. I doubt that anybody thinks that the ET issue, if real, would be trivial. That it is joined at the hip with FE and other exotic technologies may be behind a ridiculing post in the elevator. I see indoctrination and programming beaming at Americans from all corners, and now they do it in the elevators.

Obey!

Best,

Wade

[shamanseeker]

Posted by Wade Frazier (here)
Hi:

There is a movie, an old one, titled They Live.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/They_Live

Its premise is not much different than that negative world that Roads visited:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/visions.htm#roadsblade

There are times when the They Live premise is practically shoved in my face, in ways that seem intentional. Most of the indoctrination and conditioning is what we perform on each other, but there are also orchestrators. I work in a high-rise, and a few years ago, they began putting up a kind of TV screen in the elevators, and most people look at them as they go up, or they look at their smart phones these days. They literally call the service “Captivate,” and the standard presentations are sports scores, market numbers, the weather, and so on. It is pretty innocuous, but they also have an “expand your vocabulary word of the day” feature that often makes some subtle dig on current affairs. Also some headline news makes it on there. Today as I got on, there was an article titled something like, “Dealing with the important stuff.” As you know, “stuff” is one of my favorite words at Avalon (that I may never use on my site), and when I saw the headline with “stuff” in it, it looked like a title that was intended to be ironic. The article was about how in a world in crisis, people focused on the most inane things that they beseech the White House with, and it gave two examples. The first was asking the White House to acknowledge the ET presence, and the other was doing away with pennies and nickels. The ET issue is joined with the hip with the FE issue. I doubt that anybody thinks that the ET issue, if real, would be trivial. That it is joined at the hip with FE and other exotic technologies may be behind a ridiculing post in the elevator. I see indoctrination and programming beaming at Americans from all corners, and now they do it in the elevators.

Obey!

Best,

Wade

Hi Wade, in Italy they've put screens in all the train stations - just publicity - but really annoying. I've noticed now that in the town where I work, people just ignore them now and the volume has been tampered with twice so you usually can't hear them either, thank goodness.! In Milan train station, they still blare out in Orwellian fashion as far as I know. The time before last I went to Milan, I was horrified to find that there were screens in every carriage of the new metro (subway) trains - you couldn't even read on the train for the noise and instructions - inane instructions repeated again and again. The last time I was there, I was relieved that the screens were out of order - phew!!!! Either an advantage of Italian inefficiency or, more likely in my opinion knowing these wonderful people who disobey stupid rules, orders, etc with great aplomb, someone had put them out of order ;-)

[Robert J. Niewiadomski]

Apparently this is happening in many countries. In Poland there are such screens too. You might think at first i am mad but we should be thankfull for this ubiquity

Imagine that one day for some unknown reason there is a glitch in the system. And all those screens begin to work backward. They begin to wake people up instead of lulling them. It could happen because of a hack or stuxnet like virus or change of the ownership. Let them install more of it These screens are all connected to the internet Waiting for something unexpected to happen. It is a stick. Can be grabbed at our end I don't suggest i will do it. I am not qualified... But there are 7*10^9 people in the world. That means the probability of some error in the system is higher than ever Sleapers are sleapers. They can not be more asleap than they already are. So lets look at those screens as our friends...

You know...
"ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!"
...style

[Ernie Nemeth]

They have those screens here in every subway stop. No sound thank God. I make a point of standing under them while waiting for the train so I cannot see what is on them!

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

As you mentioned, shamanseeker, they are Orwellian. Orwell’s 1984 described the telescreens that virtually bludgeoned its “listeners” with its messages. In the wake of 9/11, I studied 1984, and it seemed that the Bush Gang was too, because 1984 seemed to be their blueprint:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/america.htm#orwell

We will see, Robert, if it ends up being part of the solution rather than part of the problem. Maybe the screens will all broadcast smileys one day, and then I will know that, your protestations aside, that you were involved!

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

This won’t be a mystical experience post, but an auto-biographical post that will highlight some early experiences that set me on my path. This will be my “LA days” post, as I could not escape living in the Big City when I got out of college. As I am writing this, I realize that it is going to be my longest post yet, so I am going to break it into pieces, to make the reading experience easier. This series of posts may be my last autobiographical posts like this. I have not written what you are about to read before, but I can see that those experiences primed me, so to speak, to be inspired to not only join up with Dennis, but chase him across the USA:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/advent.htm#chasing

So, here goes.

Although born in Seattle, I was raised in Southern California because my parents discovered sunshine when my father was in the Marines. My parents will die in the sunshine, while I love living among the lakes, trees and flowers of the Pacific Northwest. I was raised in Ventura, which is about an hour from LA, but is in another universe. Ventura is a beach town, and the local surf spots are in Beach Boys songs, and my brother surfed them. LA is another matter altogether.

While growing up, the only time I went to LA was to go to a Dodgers game, the museums, the airport, and one of my childhood friends went to UCLA and I visited him there. When we went to the natural history museum when I was about 14, when we entered the San Fernando Valley, I got a tremendous headache from the air pollution, and it lasted all day until we came back out of the Valley.

I chased my girlfriend to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. I did not even know if they had a business school when I chased her there. She ended the relationship the week after we got there. I got lucky in that Cal Poly had a reputable business school. I went from being the science prodigy to the accounting prodigy when that voice told me to study business:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/advent.htm#voice

I got the highest test score in the university’s history on the national accounting exam, and when I graduated in 1981, the Big Eight accounting firms in LA rolled out the red carpet for me, but I did not want to live in LA. My uncle introduced me to the mountains, with my first backpack at age 17, and I was hooked:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/pics.htm

I began inquiring with the Big Eight firms in Seattle a year before graduation. In 1980, the Seattle economy was all about Boeing and the timber industry. Nobody had heard of Bill Gates yet. I picked the worst recession in forty years to graduate from college, and the Big Eight firms in Seattle were not hiring. Given the choice of career or lifestyle, I chose lifestyle, and moved in with my grandparents in Seattle, determined to make a go of it in Seattle. After a sobering tax season in early 1982, where they fired me soon after April 15th, the tax filing deadline for individuals, I was crawling back to Ventura, and hired on with a Big Eight firm in LA, beginning in January 1983.

While Seattle was an urban environment and my grandparents lived on a hill that overlooked downtown, LA was an entirely different experience. I first lived in Culver City, which is about ten miles from downtown LA. It was where many of LA’s black professionals lived. About the only greenery in town was the lawn at the cemetery across the street from my apartment complex. My office was in downtown Los Angeles. I spent three years living in Los Angeles, and my average commute was an hour each way. As an auditor, I did not spend much time in our office, but worked at clients. I spent weeks sleeping on friends’ floors when I worked in the San Fernando Valley or Orange Country, so my commute would not be two hours each way.

During my first year, however, I worked in Skid Row Los Angeles, auditing the redevelopment agency, which rehabbed the slums, or at least tried to. It was only about a half mile from my office, but it was a hellish half mile. The Greyhound Bus station was about a block from where I worked at the redevelopment agency. I worked in Skid Row for about six months altogether, on various clients. When I first began working there, it was the summer of 1983, during “smog season.” In the summer, the air pollution was so bad in downtown Los Angeles that my office skyscraper was not visible until I was less than a mile from it. I recall days when looking out of my skyscraper’s windows during smog season, and I could not even see streets a quarter of a mile away. The air pollution was even worse in Skid Row, with the buses and other diesel vehicles. I had sneezing fits for months when I worked in Skid Row. When I walked outside for a five minutes and came back in and blew my nose, there was soot on the tissue paper. In public accounting, bringing your lunch from home was forbidden. We were expected to eat at restaurants for every lunch, and I had to give up being a vegetarian in those days:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/veggie.htm

Something happened after my first month in Skid Row that I have never been able to fully explain. Driving into the downtown labyrinth, where it was invisible in the smog bank until I was within a mile of it, was part of the tableau. I also drove a 1973 Pinto, with no air conditioning, so I had the window down. As I got off the freeway and drove into Skid Row, the businesses had not yet opened, and they all had bars on the windows and doors like fortresses. Some of the homeless were still sleeping on the ground, while some others were moving as they prepared for the day’s bustle. The experience was like driving into Hell. One day, after a month of doing that every day, I started to lose it. I burst into tears as I was driving, almost in a panic, as I drove into Hell once again. I couldn’t do it anymore. But something happened during the event: it never bothered me again. I worked in Skid Row for several more months in the next year, and it did not bother me again. I have theories about what changed in my mind that day, but I will probably never really know what happened. It was probably some kind of survival mechanism that kicked in. The things that I saw in the next couple of years will follow, but I was never overwhelmed by them. But, it was about then that my drinking problems began; a habit that I did not give up until I was forty-two.

Several events from my days in Skid Row will give an idea of what that world was like, and how it influenced my subsequent FE efforts. The audit itself was brutal. The redevelopment agency was not computerized, but there was an army of accountants maintaining manual records. They had multi-million-dollar unreconciled amounts, which made it a nightmare to audit. Examining the offering documents relating to the bonds that they sold to the public were ambiguous as to the redevelopment agency’s legal obligations. When we talked to the attorneys who created the documents, we were informed that the documents were intentionally ambiguous, so the agency could slip off the hook if necessary, with their obligations decided in the courtroom (basically, lawyers intentionally created documents that would give lawyers more work in the future – that kind of institutional dishonesty I later found was standard operating procedure). Because it was a government job, there were laws that stated that our Big Eight firm could not do the audit by itself, but had to hire a minority-owned auditing form to assist with the audit, so there was a sweet black woman who was assigned to our team, assigned to the most mundane tasks. She was about my age. She had been on the audit for a few years. The poor woman believed that working with a Big Eight firm on the audit was going to enhance her career. Her employer was not going to tell her any differently. Our company was not going to tell her any differently. We were forced to eat out at lunch every day; lunch was always a social event. At lunch she asked me one day about that very issue, of how much her career would be helped by working with us on that audit. In a preview, I suppose, of what my life’s work would become, I told her the truth. She was devastated. Would I do something like that again? I think so.

During those months, on another day, she and I walked to lunch, about a block from our office. As we rounded the corner, a dead Mexican-American man laid on the sidewalk right in front of us. He had just died. I think that it was the first time that I had seen a dead body. He died traumatically – probably not by crime, but by suicide or accident. About ten feet away stood a policewoman. Nobody stood around the body, and maybe the policewoman was standing there so that nobody would (or loot the body), but we just kept walking, passing a few feet from the body. About fifty yards later we entered the eating establishment for lunch. I don’t recall us talking about the body. By that time, it was just one of the many nightmarish sights that attended life in Skid Row. A half-hour later, we walked out of the establishment to go back to work, and the body was gone. There was no trace left of him.

I read the daily paper from about age nine to thirty, thinking that I was getting the news. Reading all the lying stories about Dennis beat that out of me:

http://projectavalon.net/forum4/show...l=1#post300436

My alternative media studies began soon after that:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/lies.htm#big

But in my LA days, I read the Los Angeles Times for an hour each morning before going to work. The A-section was the first one and the largest, and had the most “news” in it, so I read it first. Near the back of that section was miscellaneous news, including the “police blotter,” which briefly noted some of the noteworthy police-involved events of the day. On a morning when I was working in Skid Row, at about 6:30 AM I read about an event that happened a few hours earlier, at about 1:00 AM. At the street corner where the redevelopment agency was, kitty corner from where we encountered that dead body, the police arrested a white man who seemed like he was on PCP. The cops handcuffed him and put him in the back seat of their police car. Somehow, the man was able to get into the driver’s seat of the police car and began driving it away. He ran over one cop, and the other cop leapt onto the roof of the car, holding onto the siren-light on the roof as the car sped away, and emptied his revolver though the roof, with enough bullets hitting the driver so that he was unable to continue driving. The account did not say if the driver or cop who was run over died in the incident, but I remember reading that account, thinking that it was an interesting night in Skid Row. If that event had happened Seattle or many other big cities in the USA, it would have been one of the stories of the year. In LA, it made page 17 of the newspaper, with about a column-inch or two of coverage.

There were homeless everywhere in Skid Row. I would be walking briskly down the sidewalk in my suit, and the homeless would be using the gutters as toilets as I walked by. The homeless situation was part of Reagan’s Revolution. While he was the California governor, Reagan began defunding the social safety net, and when he was president, it was more of the same. While spending billions on Star Wars:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_O...ers_of_science

he threw people onto the street. I studied the homeless situation, and periodically there were articles on the homeless in the LA Times. One article was about a homeless man who lost his legs in WWII, and was an alcoholic. He reminisced about how back in the “good old days,” the homeless men in Skid Row were alcoholics, often men who got cleaned out in a divorce. But he lamented that in the present day, most of the homeless talked to themselves. The warm weather of LA led to a phenomenon known as “Greyhound Therapy.” Mental health clinics in America’s urban Northeast and Midwest that were strapped for funding would buy patients a one-way Greyhound bus ticket to LA, and ten minutes after getting off the bus, the patient was a denizen of Skid Row. While Hitler euthanized them, Reagan threw them onto the streets:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/war.htm#reagan

My accounting firm not only audited the redevelopment agency, but while I was there, we got the Head Start account. Head Start is a program to help inner-city children:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Head_Start_program

So, its offices were in the worst parts of LA, and its LA headquarters was in Watts. I wore a suit and tie every day for the first twelve years of my career, until the corporate world went casual. A Jewish guy that I worked with was assigned to the Head Start job. On his first day, as he got out of his nice car in his suit, he was the only white guy within miles; he did not get fifty feet from his car before he was mugged. He got “lucky” and only had to give up his wallet. After that, my accounting firm allowed the dress code to be relaxed for the Head Start job, so that the white auditors would blend in a little.

Meanwhile, at my gig at the redevelopment agency, a freshly-minted college graduate was assigned to the job. I was a few years older, due to my adventures so far. She was the valedictorian from a Christian college in Southern California. Her business attire was even more wholesome than most, with some lacey frill around her neck on most days. For the next few months, I watched her transformation as she got her “welcome” to the profession and LA. Although I was a coveted recruit when I was in college, that did not mean anything once I began my career, especially in downtown LA. I was treated pretty brutally in one of my first reviews, a review that I did not think was fair, and it just about scuttled my career there before it began. I think it was just a product of the shark tank. That woman went through similar cognitive dissonance. She continually talked to me about her academic achievements. She did not come right out and say it, but she was thinking, “I was valedictorian! What the hell am I doing here?” I really felt badly for her, but did not say, “Welcome to Hell!”

She was also engaged to her college sweetheart who graduated at the same time and was in our audit group. He was assigned to the Head Start job while she was at the redevelopment agency. She said that every day that her fiancée was on the job, his clothes got rattier and rattier, as he tried to blend in. By the end of the job, he looked like he was homeless. The Head Start job was one of the “hot potato” jobs in the office that nobody wanted. The next spring was promotion time, and the senior on the Head Start job was promoted to manager, so they assigned the Head Start senior slot to an attractive white woman. She quit the next day, deciding to enroll in graduate school.

One day, that former valedictorian and I were walking back from lunch to the redevelopment agency, at the same intersection where that handcuffed guy tried driving away in the cop car. As we crossed the street, coming toward us was a homeless black man. He was mumbling something to somebody behind us. Just as he was right in front of us, a few feet away, he exposed himself, in that well-endowed African way, nearly hitting that woman with me. It seemed to be his way of making a point with whomever he was mumbling at. We kept walking and I did not react to that display, but wondered what the effect on her would be. At we reached the sidewalk, we stood there. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her roll her eyes and shake her head. It may have been her moment when she resigned herself to Hell. She stopped talking about her academic credentials after that.

That is all for today. I will be making a few more of these in the next week. Then I will be working on that Brian essay.

Best,

Wade

[Ernie Nemeth]

Wade that shows a side of you I did not imagine, and I'm sorry you had to experience that. It must have been part of the reason for your dedication to this effort.

I've never lived on skid row but after my divorce I used to hang out down there - lots of drugs and partying to keep my mind off my situation. I must have had an angel looking out after me because the few times that I was "targeted" I managed to walk away unscathed.

And when I came to live with my present girlfriend she lived in the "projects". Luckily I already knew everybody and they knew me because my good friend lived there and I had been visiting him for years (he was the one I use to go downtown with to "skidrow"). I used to have my daughter come be with me every second weekend until I moved in to that area. From that point on I would not allow her to visit. I would go see her and take her places - often to my sister's in a decent area of town. I've rarely had my daughter overnight since. So sad.

I lived there for five years. During that time I saw all manner of things - murders, muggings, gang fights, police raids, etc. By the time I managed to drag the two of us out of that hellhole I stopped doing drugs and drinking because you had to stay on your "game" if you wanted to be relatively safe. I got into a few fights but I was never drunk, like my opponents usually were. That was my edge. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a fighter but you gotta stand up for yourself or you become a target.

Well, that brought back memories.

Thanks for the post. I hope it won't be long to the next one.

Love,
Ernie

[Wade Frazier]

LA Days, Part 2:

The redevelopment agency was my first “big job” of my Big Eight career. I have typical horrible “doctor’s” handwriting, it is related to my position in the “autism spectrum” – and on that job my supervisor made me write in block capitals, which I have done ever since, but thank God for keyboards, if I had to write for a living, I would have found a way out of it. I also had to figure out how the audit was supposed to work, that meant studying the work papers. I ended up “eating time” on that job, which means working and not recording the hours – working without pay. I went into the redevelopment agency office on some weekends, and saw what Skid Row was like on the weekend. I also was there at night a few times, and that was a truly scary experience.

On one of my weekend visits to the office, I walked to get lunch and I walked into a street event. I don’t know what the Mexicans call it, but some streets were closed, on a Sunday, I believe, and the streets were lined with street vendors and their portable tables. Each table sold trinkets and other wares. The street was packed with Mexicans, and it extended down one street as far as I could see – it may have run for miles. It was kind of a festival atmosphere, with families of parents and children. It was kind of like a Disneyland experience for them. It was about 100 degrees, under a smog blanket, with people packed in like sardines, buying trinkets, without a green, living thing to be seen. And they were having a good time! These were the Mexicans who had escaped to the USA. They “made it.” It was one of the saddest sights that I saw in LA.

My career with the Big Eight was not a good one. I did not do well in the shark tank. I became kind of a lost waif in the office, and got the worst jobs. One of them was that I became the inventory king. Businesses that had made goods had to have inventories performed once a year as part of the audit. I performed dozens of inventories during my LA days. Some were of tightly-run Japanese conglomerates, while others were industrial wasteland companies making heavy industry parts. I also inventoried a sweatshop. It was in the garment district, close to my office. It was a leather-making factory where they made leather purses and similar articles. On inventory day, the facilities shut down so the inventory can be performed and audited. When I inventoried the leather-making facility, I eventually entered a room where most of the manufacturing took place. The room was on the top floor of the facility. The building was about a hundred years old, and I can’t recall if the rest of the building had air conditioning, but that room definitely did not. I performed that inventory in February, so that I did not get to see it in its 100-degree glory, but I could only imagine it. That room was about seventy yards long or so, and there were three rows of sewing machines, with about fifty machines in each row. At the end of the room was a fan, with blades about ten feet long.

As I walked through that room and took in that scene, my mind conjured what that must look like in August, with the factory in full swing: 150 Mexican women, feverishly working in the 100 degree heat, with that fan blowing out the leatherworking fumes into the air and cooling the sweating women. It looked hellish.

About a year later, I inventoried the sweatshop version for men. One of my audits was of a company that made a world-famous accoutrement for Mexican low-rider cars. It was privately-owned. It turned out later that they were trying to deceive the auditors, so we resigned from the engagement, but not before I audited their inventories at a few facilities on the same day. As with the leather sweatshop, the facilities were closed for inventory day. While the leather factory had a largely women’s workforce, this heavy industrial business had a male labor force. As the scion of the business drove me to one of their factories, not far from where I lived in Redondo Beach (a few miles behind the fun beach towns were industrial wastelands where the Mexicans and blacks lived), we drove through a barrio. Poor Mexican children played in the streets. The scion was the manager of the factory that we visited. As we parked and approached the building, he pointed out an item of interest: a bullet hole in the front door. As we walked into the building and through the offices, he showed me how the bullet passed through a few walls of the office, eventually lodging in the wall right above his desk. I recall that the shooting happened at night, so that it did not endanger anybody, but the scion told it as a funny story. I think that he planned to eventually excavate that bullet from the wall and keep it as a souvenir. Then I went about my inventory duties.

While seeing the sewing room in the leather sweatshop was a sobering moment, it paled beside what this heavy industrial factory’s conditions were like, where the Mexican men worked. Again, it was closed, so I could only imagine what it must have looked like when running, but it was a version of hell that I saw in my mind’s eye. While inventorying that facility, I had to use the restroom. Then I got a better glimpse of what the workers’ lives were like. It was the most disgusting bathroom that I ever saw. The floor around the urinals was coated with the industrial gunk on the bottom of the workers’ shoes. The restroom looked like it had not been cleaned in years. I used the urinal from about ten feet away from it.

I not only did inventories, but I also did one of the other disagreeable jobs in the office – branch auditing. Our firm audited a firm in New York City, for instance, but it had a satellite office in LA. Our LA office would farm out a staff auditor to audit the branch. If you did a great job or a horrible job, it really did not have any impact on your career, because the people running the engagement were in New York. When you did branch audits, you were effectively removed from your home office. It certainly did not assist your career. I had many dead-end audit experiences like that. But, I was often very friendly with our clients, and that was probably the only saving grace of what I did. I recall being on one of those branch audits, and I got to know the secretary. I am not sure how the subject came up, but she related her own sweatshop tale. She went to work as a secretary for an industrial company. Most factories have offices in the front, with the factory in the back. She went to work as a secretary for a family-owned business, but it turned out to be more like a mob family. She said the front office was opulent, where the owner/managers worked. At the back of the office was the door to the factory, which was off limits to her. The factory was full of Mexicans, and most were illegal aliens, as it turned out. Illegal immigrants had almost no rights. Every Monday morning, the factory manager would walk out onto the factory floor and fire somebody, randomly. That was their managerial style, keeping the employees in a state of terror. The woman was only there a week when it began smelling like a mob operation to her. One day, she was asked to do something that seemed unethical, or she saw something that looked unethical. She spoke up. The manager said something like, “Are you giving me some lip, Broad?!” She lowered her head and shut up. At lunch time, she said that she needed to get something from her car. She got in her car and drove away, and never returned.

While that may seem like a harsh way to manage people, especially people with no legal recourse, one of my college roommates had a similar experience with mob-like companies and their managerial style. He became the CFO of several companies. One of them was an industrial company in Orange County. Right after he started, the CEO took him to New York, to meet their money guys. It was a boiler-room operation on Long Island. As they met the owner of the operation, he showed them around. They had a big bullpen of young, twenty-something young men who cold-called America’s rich, trying to get them to invest their money. In my career, I have been a corporate executive, and when your equity awards are reported to the SEC, you start getting calls from those young men, trying to get you to invest your money. I was new to the executive game back then (this is nearly twenty years ago), and at first, I had no idea how they knew to call me. I eventually figured it out.

On the day that my roomie got his tour of that boiler-room facility, the owner told him how he managed the bullpen. Every Monday morning, he would walk out onto the bullpen floor and randomly fire somebody. Like that mob-like factory, that bullpen operation, and the company that my friend had just hired onto, smelled mob-like. He quit a few weeks later. When he told the CEO that he was resigning, the CEO said, “So, you are f***ing me, eh?” My roomie got out of there as fast as he could. The operation turned out to be mob-like, and my roomie eventually testified at the trial of that CEO and his company. It seems that they were engaged in illegal securities activity, and my roomie was subpoenaed to testify.

As Dennis discovered, the mob and capitalism are happy bedfellows. Dennis has survived several mob hit attempts, and had his companies stolen by them on the East Coast. He eventually discovered that the mob acts with more integrity than the government does.

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/energy1.htm#lawsuit

As Smedley Butler eventually discovered, people like Al Capone are small fry compared to the hyper-capitalists:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/america.htm#butler

Well, I have to run to work, but wanted to give Ernie something to read today! There is a lot more coming.

Best,

Wade

[sandy]

Thoroughly enjoyable reading, informative, revealing, relative and realistic to life experience and resulting wisdom, >>>>>>>>>>>>>keep it coming

[Wade Frazier]

LA Days, Part 3

As I mentioned, I began studying the homeless during my LA days, partly because it was thrust in my face. The homeless, beggars, the mentally ill left to fend for themselves - it was my daily reality. On the streets of Skid Row, short spindly trees were planted in the sidewalks. The trees had trunks a few inches across and grew ten feet high or so. There was metal grating, maybe a meter square, which “exposed” some soil around the roots. They were some of Earth’s more bedraggled trees. One day, as we walked down a Skid Row street, we walked past a woman lying in a pile of plastic trash bags, at the base of one of those trees. Over the next few weeks, I had to walk down that street several times, and that woman was always there. She was an old Mexican woman. During those weeks, I once had to drive down that street. Not only was she lying there, but she had probably just “used the bathroom,” because her bare butt was sticking out, facing traffic, almost like a street sign, as I drove down the street.

As fate would have it, a couple of weeks later, there was another LA Times story on the homeless, and the article was about that woman. She was in her sixties and had lived under that tree for the previous eighteen months. She was a Mexican national. Across the street was a take-out chicken window. The reporter’s investigation revealed that the woman somehow had money, and the only place she ever ate was at that chicken window, and the chicken window and her trash bag home under that tree were the only places that she had been in the previous eighteen months. When it rained, she took shelter under the eaves of the building next to the tree.

The plastic trash bags were her toilet, I believe. And she apparently could have lived in a sheltered situation. She did not have to be homeless, but preferred living under that tree over her other options. I thought for a long time about her situation.

I sometimes saw crime in Skid Row, but it was relatively rare in the daylight. I once saw the distressed aftermath of an Asian woman who had her necklace ripped from her neck by somebody running past her.

Those days in LA were “transformative” in that I saw hell and wanted to abolish it. I was so idealistic and naïve:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/advent.htm#believing

in those days. What also bothered me greatly, and contributed to my underachieving career in public accounting, was the nagging suspicion that what I was doing for living provided no net benefit to society. It became clear years later that that was indeed the case:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/advent.htm#getting

Those were by far the unhappiest years of my life. I had subsequent years that were more nightmarish:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/advent.htm#mr

or emotionally agonizing:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/advent.htm#journey

but those years were my unhappiest, as I received a healthy dose of the real world.

I am going to be very busy in the coming weeks, and this LA Days narrative may come in short spurts like this, but I will be working on it until it is finished. It launched me on my journey with Dennis, and actually framed my first stint with Dennis in ways that I find hard to believe, even though I lived through it. A lot of my journey has been that way, in that I look back at my life and sometimes wonder if it really happened. So much of it was just far larger than life.

Going to work now…

Best,

Wade

[Butangeld]

Not sure if this is the right thread for this, maybe Ilie's thread on imagining abundance would be just as good. I've got some thoughts on abundance I'd like to share.

Everyone on Earth already thinks and imagines abundance. There seems no shortage of fear and frustration or debt and poverty, these are in abundance. I think the general opinion on all this, the shortage of everything that's needed for life, is one of expectation of still worse to come, more debt, less security, lower standards in food and health. There is a quiet acceptance of 'this is the way the world works'. But there is still abundance, it is just that it is for those things that make the poorest of conditions.

I'm ready to believe that this attachment to abundance is in our nature, but that we have somehow turned it on ourselves. If someone meditates then the abundant nature of our thoughts are stilled, or perhaps set free to wander without concentration on things in our world that only seem important. Godzilla doesn't have to do anything on a day-to-day basis to keep this kind of world going, we do that for him by concentrating our undiminished, abundance thoughts on the points of interest he has supplied – fear, debt, hatred etc. I fantasize that maybe he is just as fed up with the way things have turned out as we are, and that like the rest of us the plans he had in the beginning have not panned out quite the way he'd have liked. That maybe this is not the world he'd intended and now, when he reviews his plans, he thinks them immature and untenable.

We cannot stop thinking abundance thoughts, but the conditions we suffer today are the result of negative thoughts in abundance. We make the fear we suffer, we make the love we share and we manifest the conditions in which we live

You're right Wade that integrity is the scarcest commodity in our world. When enough people of meaningful integrity form a group our unwavering thoughts of abundance will be continually positive. I am convinced this will change the game being played.

[Wade Frazier]

Hi Butangeld:

Thank you very much for that thoughtful post. Yes, thoughts of scarcity are in abundance!

Yes, the road ahead for humanity looks pretty dim at this time, if viewed through a “normal” lens. It is challenging to remain optimistic. I recall an interview with the Dalia Lama long ago, and he was asked why he felt optimistic, with all of the terrible things that China had done to Tibet, and he said something like, “What other attitude would have me take? I see no viable alternative to being optimistic.”

Yes, the abundant engine of the human mind is focused on stuff that is not pretty, and we have had help in maintain that focus. This is a highly important issue that you bring up, and is part of the conundrum. That thread of Ilie’s is about imagining what a world based on abundance will look like (or maybe, what it will not look like). Doing that visioning work is vital, IMO, partly because I saw, to my amazement, how almost nobody would even be brave enough to imagine what a world based on FE could look like, even for a minute. It was a mind-boggler, to see the levels of entrenched denial over and over, and see my fellow travelers report the same thing.

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/paradigm.htm#level1

While reading and participating on Ilie’s thread might not seem like any great shakes, you might be amazed at how rare such an exercise is. I have never seen a thread like that before. We will see if we can keep it up.

On your musing about the GCs (AKA Godzilla, the Big Boys), there is evidence of what you are referring to being the case. James Gilliland:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/ufo.htm

says that the GCs eventually realized that enslaving a planet is hard work, much harder and less fun than they thought. They are slaves to their desire for power and control, and some of them are beginning to realize it. Greer’s reporting that a growing fraction of the GCs wants FE to come out:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/journey.htm#cabal

is along the same lines, and a friend close me got to encounter that disenchanted faction that wants it to come out, and they were brave enough to display their wares:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/advent.htm#underground

I believe that this is going to be a joint effort, where the GCs will find that their global grip is not nearly as fun as it used to be, while some fraction of the masses (us, for instance) begins to awaken to their spiritual heritage as inherently free beings, and we kind of meet halfway. There are several reasons why I advocate the lamb’s path for this, and that is partly because threading this needle may be so difficult that only those with the highest intentions can do it. But, I also realized that nobody can do it alone. Those lambs need to be stampeding!

Best,

Wade

[Ernie Nemeth]

Although I agree with the idea, since it is absolutely obvious, it seems to be grating on my nerves. It took me a moment to realize why.
"Scarcity abundance" is an oxymoron! Just like "Military Intelligence" only far more blunt.

It's like saying, "She's a little pregnant". Or he's slightly dead. What's the sense of it? We know we are abundantly immersed in scarcity. That's the point.

For a while I was upset that Wade kept repeating the same message, over and over to every reply. But that is the message: We cannot even dream of abundance.

Everyone on Earth already thinks and imagines abundance.

No we do not, we think and imagine scarcity. A rose by any other name...

Thank you for not posting that on Ilie's thread!

[Wade Frazier]

LA Days, Part 4

Being raised in Ventura, and wishing I was in Seattle, I moved as soon as I could to where the air was a little cleaner, and that was the beach. I moved to Redondo Beach and spent my last years in LA living there. The prevailing sea breeze blew the smog east of LA, to places such as Riverside and San Bernardino. It was rarely smoggy in Redondo Beach; the thick kind that hurt your lungs to breathe (ozone does that).

I also escaped to friends in Bishop whenever I could, and hiked and cross-country skied in the Sierras. I hiked in the Santa Monica Mountains whenever I could, too, but long hikes meant hiking through housing tracts. It was a far cry from the Cascades, but it got me a breather from the crush of people in LA. I was once dead stopped on the freeway at midnight. “Rush hour” was a misnomer in LA. The “rush” lasted all day and into the night.

I lived there when the 1984 Olympics were held. I attended the trials (I was a javelin thrower in college, and watched a bunch of the guys that I used to compete against at the trials), but there was so much fear of how bad the traffic and congestion would be that pretty much the entire city went on vacation during the Olympics, and my office shut down for the entire two weeks, and I hiked in the mountains for a week of it. Traffic was lighter than ever during the Olympics, to everybody’s surprise. Near Skid Row was about a square city block of wiry grass called Pershing Square. It had an underground parking lot, and the ground level was grass, where legions of homeless people could be found. Pershing Square was about the only patch of lawn in or near downtown Los Angeles, but it was deeply tainted by its environment, like those bedraggled trees growing out of the sidewalks. People walked briskly past Pershing Square.

About two weeks before the Olympics, I walked past Pershing Square and was stunned. Flowerbeds had been planted, and there was a popcorn vendor in a shiny new stand (there were a few new stands like that dotting Pershing Square’s perimeter), and the homeless were gone. I later discovered what had happened. I had already read some stories about how the City of LA built an internment camp for the homeless east of downtown, to put on LA’s best face during the Olympics. That was where the homeless had disappeared to when I saw the makeover that Pershing Square received. A few days later, Martin Luther King Jr.’s widow presided over the grand opening of the new Pershing Square. I read her speech, and she said that the new Pershing Square would be a “wonderful place for a family to spend the afternoon.” I was flabbergasted. They put a fresh coat of paint on hell, temporarily removed its denizens, and they acted like it was a new Disneyland. It was a Potemkin Park.

Of all the disheartening aspects of my life in LA, the air pollution was one of the worst. My mentor’s engine:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/energy.htm#glimpse

would have eliminated almost all urban air pollution (carbon dioxide would have been almost its sole pollutant), and I had yet to hear about free energy, but the desire to end air pollution became very strong in me during my LA days. A few air pollution anecdotes should make it clearer, if it is not already. I had a friend in Riverside from my trip to Europe:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/spirit.htm#europe

whom I regularly visited, and we would hike at Idyllwild, which was on a plateau on the far east end of the LA basin. On the drive out of the basin up to Idyllwild one summer’s day, there was a scenic viewpoint, at around a thousand meters elevation or so, where you could look out across the LA basin. That was before I had a camera, and I wish I had a picture of what I saw that day. The view from that spot stretched across the entire LA basin and beyond, with more than fifty miles of visibility that day. Part of the reason for LA’s intense air pollution is because it is ringed by mountains and an inversion layer can form, locking the pollution in the basin. It was that way that day. As I looked out across the LA basin, it was like looking out at the ocean, but the ocean was black. The entire LA basin was an impenetrable sea of black air, but my viewpoint was above it. And dotting the basin like islands in the ocean were the tops of the mountains around the LA basin, poking through the black air. I remember thinking, “I live down there in that blackness.”

During my LA days, I also traveled a lot. In those three years working in the Big Eight, I was out of town on engagements for about six months. I burned out on business travel in those days. One day, I was on a plane that was coming in for landing at LA International airport (LAX), in Inglewood. While we were high in the air and looking down, the lights of LA looked pretty normal. But as the plane came in for landing, it flew through the smog layer. Suddenly, there was a mass of brown air flowing past our windows, kind of like a sludge. It looked like we were a submarine sailing through a sewer. The passengers all shrieked in disgust and horror. And LAX is on the ocean, where the smog was tame compared to the inland areas.

I’ll tell one last smog story. In Seattle, today at my office, it has been sunny for the past few days, and the distant air over the Cascades looks tinged with brown. It is air pollution (nitrous oxide), but it takes several days of sunny weather for the air pollution to become obvious. Once in a great while, an inversion layer forms in the summer, and once I almost smelled ozone, in fourteen years of living here for this stint. That is how Seattle’s air pollution is – not much of an issue. The rain saves us, although Puget Sound does not appreciate it.

LA is ringed with mountain ranges, but when I lived there, you virtually never saw them. I am not kidding – the San Gabriel Mountains behind LA were visible for maybe twenty days a year. The rest of the time, the smog hid them. Once every few years, we would get a storm that would provide the kind of backdrop for the skyscrapers that are at this link:

http://myultralife.com/blog/wp-conte...09/02/610x.jpg

That kind of scene is often on LA postcards, but in my years in LA, I saw it about once, and it is a vivid memory. I visited my parents in Ventura often during my LA days, and one Sunday I drove back to Redondo, right after a rain, and as I drove down the San Fernando Valley, I was amazed to see the downtown skyscrapers from twenty miles away or so, with the snowy mountains behind them. I saw that calendar shot. The next morning, I had to drive back into the San Fernando Valley. At about 8:30 AM, I drove over Sepulveda Pass, which separates the beach cities and West LA from the San Fernando Valley:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sepulveda_Pass

I was wondering what kind of view I would get, about fourteen hours after I saw that calendar shot scene the evening before. I could not even see across the Valley. The mountains were completely obscured by the smog bank. It took the smog bank less than one rush hour to recover to its mountain-hiding best. It was awesome.

Gotta go to bed now. As I look at my outline, I am not even halfway done with my LA days posts. When I finish them, I will likely consolidate them into a couple of posts, for easier archival reading.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Ah Ernie:

You make me laugh sometimes, buddy, in a good way. Again, impatience is my Achilles’ heel:

http://www.ahealedplanet.net/spirit.htm#reading

and I get to work on it all the time, especially at Avalon! You may recall that I got an inventor-itis post almost once a day when I joined Avalon, with people wondering if this or that inventor “had it,” wanted to play FE tinkerer, and other rabbit-hole posts. Others wanted to close their eyes to the darkness and make it go away, and so on. Those distractions come far less frequently these days, and this thread is finally beginning to get centered on my intentions. Ilie starting that “what becomes obsolete with FE” thread is one of the welcome signs that my Avalon efforts have not been in vain.

So, while Butangeld’s post may have seemed oxymoronic to you, that was a welcome post for me. It was not so off-topic as it may seem, but was another engagement with the FE conundrum, and a somewhat novel one. This conundrum has many facets, and yes, you are right in that almost the entire world is mired in scarcity and cannot even imagine abundance today. However, with the choir that is slowly forming here, I think that more will begin to imagine it. That movie Thrive will definitely be singing the FE song, and my work is intended to go deeply into the issue. Not so much from a FE physics angle, as Sandy was relieved to hear, but from other aspects. Again, my “specialization” was in the political-economic dynamics, and it was not until many years later that I discovered that I was a comprehensivist (you call it generalist).

Gotta go to work now.

Best,

Wade

[Ernie Nemeth]

Sorry for any hurt feelings. I meant it as constructive criticism. But I admit I might have been a little harsh. Still, I stand by the gist of that post. Apologies, Butangeld. I know you meant well, and as Wade says, it was a novel concept. Of course we think abundantly. That's what meditation is for - to quiet the mind of its constant thinking. Thanks for the input. Keep 'em coming.