WADE FRAZIER : A Healed Planet

[ThePythonicCow]

Posted by Wade Frazier (here)
The past 40 years have seen the strongest El Niños in a thousand years, and the current one will likely become the strongest in a thousand years. And Trump calls Global Warming a hoax.

For some of us, the question is less whether or not there are major climatic shifts (though some tin-foil-hat wearers, both human and bovine, might doubt some of the data presented to us), but what are the primary causes of those shifts.

That puzzle is however perhaps better a topic for other threads on Avalon ... sorry.

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I made a call to the former president at my trucking company. The night before, I had bought plane tickets to fly to Ohio to visit him and other friends from my Ohio days. When I called him to tell him that I was coming in two weeks, he replied, “No you aren’t.” He told me to turn on the TV, and when I did, the World Trade Center towers were still standing but smoking. At that instant, I knew that my efforts were too little and too late. I had publicly predicted something like it years earlier. The USA’s imperial rampages since then have not been surprising, including the greatest crime of the 21^st century so far: invading Iraq. The USA is responsible for thousands of times as many shortened lives in Afghanistan and Iraq as were lost on 9/11.

The war on Iran is simply the latest outrage, along with American support for the genocide in Gaza and the war in Ukraine. All American presidents promise peace and wage war. It is the true American Way. As one reader recently wrote, these are energy wars that we keep inflicting on the Middle East. It is all about the oil, as Middle East oil is history’s richest material prize.

As with the Pearl Harbor attack and JFK’s murder, more happened than met the public’s eye with the 9/11 terror attacks. Bill Clinton protected Osama bin Laden as late as 1999, as he served American interests, which made Slobodan Milošević highly skeptical of the official story for 9/11. Milošević came to an untimely end in the custody of the American-sponsored kangaroo court at The Hague, and it was either criminal negligence or murder. The USA led the way in dismembering Yugoslavia.

As with the Pearl Harbor attack and JFK’s murder, it won’t matter what evidence might come to light in the future. Officialdom and the media will hold to the standard version of 9/11 until the end of time. That is how American mythmaking works.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

Understanding how our world really works is not easy. Key aspects of how it works have rarely been dealt with in a productive manner. Naive armchair academics are never going to encounter the global elite, so they almost always deny their existence. Tabloid conspiracists usually go down rabbit holes to nowhere. Those are some of the many issues that prevent people from productively engaging these realities. Both structuralism and conspiracism are limited frameworks through which to engage the real world. I have long called these situations 1% conspiracy and 99% complicity. Structuralists generally deny the 1% conspiracy and conspiracists generally deny the 99% complicity, while those in the mainstream are completely brainwashed and are usually apathetic, focused on survival and temporarily sating their addictions.

Free-energy newcomers almost invariably advocate the well-worn paths to disaster, and I have watched them rush off to their doom, as they refused to heed my cautions. What could I know?

Lone inventors and small efforts do not have a prayer. The best that they can hope for is the friendly buyout offer. When inventors such as Sparky Sweet, Mark Comings, James Gilliland’s pal Max and others come up with their inventions, they have hell to pay. Sparky came to an untimely end and his equipment and documentation were confiscated. Mark was fired and arrested, his equipment was wrecked, and when he tried the “sneak past them” approach, he was rudely disabused of his naïveté. Mark eventually heard of others like him. James and Max were lucky to survive what happened after Max invented his free-energy prototype. In his last book, Brian O’Leary wrote about what happens when people run afoul of the global elite’s minions. Brian’s life was likely shortened from his encounter with them. Brian knew about 25 dead-inventor stories.

When I hear from free-energy newcomers who talk big about what they are going to do, I shudder. I cannot overstate how foolish and suicidal it is to try those paths of disaster. I am doing something different. Without what I call the choir, the rest is pointless, at least for my approach. Something like the choir has never been seen on Earth before, and keeping the focus will be the hard part, as there will be a million distractions and temptations. Free-energy inventors, spooks, and the like will come running, and the challenge will be to not get swept up in all of that. This is why I have been very particular about who will be in that choir. I need idealists who have been sobered up by the real world and are willing to learn.

Once that conversation is sustained at those high levels and reaches enough “critical mass,” a significant fraction of the world is going to be paying attention. The 100,000 or so “do something” people will come from those ranks. They could fund a free energy effort by themselves. The choir will be a virtual community at first, but the effort to make free-energy technology will take a physical community. It will likely be in the West, because it will be an industrial project. Developing a working prototype will not be that hard to do, but it has to be an industrial setting, not somebody’s garage or workshop. The physical community’s sheer numbers (maybe a few thousand people) will be enough to protect the operation, just because of how prominent it will be.

Again, free-energy and related technologies are older than I am. It will not be that hard to make it safe to use and prevent its misuse. The mere existence of the choir could be enough to catalyze the process of bringing the existing technologies to the public. It could happen that way, but the effort cannot count on that. It must be willing to make the technology themselves. In elite enclaves is 35^th-generation technology, but first or second generation will be adequate, free energy is enough to usher in the Fifth Epoch, and the rest is gravy.

In a world of abundance, not many will even think of misusing those technologies, as safety and harmlessness will be humanity’s guiding principles. Those technologies will be given to humanity, they will end the world as we know it, and nobody will miss it.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

I had recent occasion to interact with an academic. Even the seemingly worldly academics can be surprisingly naïve, even in areas where they claim expertise. One on hand, it is understandable, because incredible experiences are rarely had in classrooms, libraries, and faculty lounges. But when those academics claim to speak for reality, while displaying their naïveté, it becomes understandable why so many people do not trust intellectuals and “experts.” Many of them are also dishonest. This is just the state of humanity these days, in our world of scarcity and fear.

My experiment of doing videos is to help bridge the reality gap with the people that I seek, those disillusioned idealists. Few will ever have experiences like I have had, or like what my fellow travelers have had, and this is the first post in a series that will present experiences that many people find hard to believe. I will also present related information to assess the credibility of those experiences.

I have presented most of these before, but this thread will string a bunch of them together. It will be a wild ride.

I found that people can believe or deny anything, and can justify anything. If we were told the correct answer for how our universe began and how it will end (if it even has a beginning or will end), who would believe it? If we were told the accurate answer for how life on Earth began, who would believe it? Life on Earth is either alone in the universe or it isn’t. Either situation is extraordinary, and many would believe or deny either answer. Just this morning, a friend sent me a link to an article on a survey of physicists. For few of today’s big questions of cosmology is there a general agreement among physicists.

In my study of the Epochs of the human journey, I came to realize that not only did nobody ever see the next Epoch coming until now (they couldn’t even imagine it), people also have a hard time imagining prior Epochs. Comfortable Westerners can scarcely imagine living in a society in which half of the children died, and often violently at the hands of their parents, who could not afford to feed them. I have often seen Westerners sit in judgment of the brutal practices of today’s agrarian societies. It was how our ancestors acted until only a few centuries ago. We benefit from the transformations of industrialization, which rides on the energy of fossil fuels, without which we would still live those “primitive” agrarian lives.

We humans often have puny conceptions, as we project our mentalities onto the world that we see, so that we often do not understand what we see. This series of posts will present experiences that I and others had. Our experiences have often been met with denial, derision, fear, and other negative reactions. It is similar to how people who have had near-death experiences rarely discuss them, because of the reactions of denial and fear that they receive.

I can’t discuss my life with hardly anybody in my family. It is far too alien to them, a high strangeness that they can barely fathom, even family members who witnessed some of the unbelievable events in my life. This kind of isolation is normal.

I’ll start this with some extraordinary events in my ancestry. My mother’s father caught influenza in World War I’s trenches in 1918. He was left for dead in a makeshift morgue but he awakened three days later, surrounded by corpses. When he emerged from that makeshift morgue, it freaked out the soldiers that saw him rise from the dead.

Neither of my parents should have lived to adulthood. My mother was born with a hole in her heart’s septum and was not expected to survive childhood, but she lived to be 78. My father’s parents were driven from Kansas in the Dust Bowl and migrated for years, Grapes of Wrath style, before they heard of jobs in the shipyards in Bellingham, Washington. They moved there in 1935 while my grandmother was pregnant with my father. She was so malnourished that my father weighed a little over four pounds at birth and he was born with rickets. He should not have survived, had stunted growth until high school, and he missed one year of school from rheumatic fever.

For all of his hardships while young and growing up in poverty, my father had Einstein-level intelligence and got the highest score on the state’s math test. Early in his career, NASA recruited him to work in its Mission Control Room in Houston. If I had not produced his security badge for the Gemini 12 mission, who would believe me? There is far more that I could tell about my childhood that is rather unbelievable, but that will have to wait until more people die to discuss those events.

I was recognized as a chip off the old block from infancy and was raised to be a scientist from the time that I could walk. I was in gifted programs in primary school, but I was otherwise raised pretty normally until a fateful day when I was 12 and my mother told me that the bowl of cornflakes that I was eating was bad for my health. My father’s career and lifestyle took its toll on his health. We made a radical change in our diets, from processed food to whole food, and my father had a health miracle. The medical dogma of the day stated that my father’s health problems were irreversible, but in two years he completely reversed them. The book that inspired our change was banned in the USA the next decade for being contrary to medical dogma. Today, it is recognized that the medical dogma of the day was wrong, that book was right, and today its advice forms orthodox medicine’s first line of defense for artery disease. I am surprised that I lived to see that.

I see our dietary change when I was 12 as the beginning of my awakening. Many unbelievable events were ahead of me, and some come next.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

Looking back, my family’s changing of our diets from processed food to whole food in 1970 was a watershed moment of my youth. I became open to alternative views and practices. But 1974 was the biggest watershed year of my youth. Early that year, I got my first job, working for a poor black man named Isaac Brown, salvaging lumber from a walnut farm. I cracked some ribs after a few weeks, and that was the end of my job. Isaac lost half of his foot on that job.

That spring, my first professional mentor’s engine began making the news. I met the rocket scientist that the Navy assigned to analyze my mentor’s engine, and he became its greatest champion. U.S. Senator John Tunney repeatedly called my mentor at home, to set up Congressional hearings to get his engine developed.

That was when I got my first energy dreams. At age 15, I had no idea what I could do about it, but I held that dream until I met Dennis Lee, when my wild ride began. My parents sent me to Europe for two months that summer, which began my cultural awakening.

But the biggest event that year happened in December, when my father had our family take a meditation course. At the course’s end, I watched a woman do a remote viewing on Isaac Brown. I used him because of his diabetes, which was the only medical condition that I wrote on the card. After being given Isaac’s name, sex, age, and city of residence, in the first ten seconds, with her eyes closed, she said that he was black, and she then held up her right hand, stuck her index finger into the air and crooked it, and said that Isaac was missing the end of that finger, which was true. My life was never the same after that moment. A few minutes later it was my turn. I accurately described somebody that I had never met, and I accurately stated that she had a stroke that paralyzed her right side. At age 16, I was on the math/science track in school and was developing a no-nonsense view of the world. I was on my way to becoming a materialist. Those remote viewings wrecked that path. I didn’t know it at the time, but those remote viewings ruined me as a scientist before I ever began. I could no longer drink the Kool-Aid of materialism, which is the religion of mainstream scientists. Unbeknownst to me for many years, five years after my remote-viewing experience, astronomer and former astronaut Brian O’Leary had a nearly identical remote-viewing experience in a similar meditation class. It ruined Brian as a mainstream scientist.

In the years since then, I have watched “skeptics” and debunkers try to invalidate such remote-viewing experiences, and they almost always do it idiotically. They dismiss cases like that woman’s remote viewing with remarks like, “Well, she maybe got his finger, but she missed his foot!”

The next year, I began a fasting regimen, inspired by Paul Bragg’s work. I fast to this day, more than 50 years later. It turned out that Bragg lied about his age, and I exposed him.

I was raised in a military household, in a community that had the U.S. Navy as its biggest employer, and I was raised with the terrible idea that I would not quite be a man unless I had been a soldier. In my senior year of high school, I applied to the Air Force Academy and was nominated by my Congressman. I was a shoo-in. My mother saw how his military days wrecked my father, and she prevailed on him to talk me out of it.

After high school, I attended the local junior college, studying math and science. I was at the top of my classes, as usual. My first love was paleontology/archeology, but I began a courtship of chemistry when I was about 12. In my second year of college, which was my third year of chemistry studies, I had my first existential crisis. I began to take a good look around at my chemistry lab and professor, saw my likely future as a chemist, and I began to doubt that path.

If I was not going to become a chemist, then what? I was also taking biology, and killing a frog and dissecting it was a sad process. I became a vegan the next year. All I knew was the math-science path in academia, or “loafing” and becoming an English or history major. After about two months of cognitive dissonance and feeling lost, I did something that I had never done before. Before going to bed one night, I prayed with all my might for somebody in Creation to give me an idea of what to do with my life. That energy dream was still there, but it took a back seat to more practical concerns.

I fell into a dreamless sleep, and when I awakened the next morning and opened my eyes, looking across my bedroom, a voice in my head spoke up. Some people actually hear a voice, but mine was alien thoughts in my head. The voice suggested that I study business. I was instantly enthused, but I did not know what the voice was talking about. That morning, I called my college and asked if people could study business in college. The college replied by setting up a counseling session that week, and I was on my way.

Even I look back sometimes and wonder if it happened like that. My career in the business world began that day.

In the years since then, I encountered other people who had a voice in their head, and always at critical, life-or-death moments of their lives. Dennis Lee first heard that voice when he had his shotgun barrel in his mouth, the day that his nationalistic illusions went up in smoke. Eugene Sledge heard an actual voice after his first day of battle. My wife’s best friend heard an actual voice when it looked like her life was over. On Friday, I watched the testimony of the last man out of one of the World Trade Center towers before it collapsed, and a voice led him to escaping the tower.

Dennis calls his voice “God,” but my experience has been that the voice does not identify itself. I suspect that it is our souls. Similar to the “voice-in-the-head” phenomenon, I have read several hundred near-death experience (“NDE”) accounts and I have read many books on the subject. The accounts have an amazing consistency to them, and what I have read is that people’s souls generally orchestrate NDEs, usually get the earthly personalities back on track in their journeys, as they were diverging too far from their initial life’s plan. NDE experiencers are different people than they were before their NDEs. They have no fear of death, as far as it being the end of existence. They know. They also realize that life is about love, and material pursuits and social status become meaningless to them. Their marriages often do not survive, generally because their spouses cannot handle their mates’ new orientation, in which having the nicest house on the street and the biggest bank account no longer motivates them.

That fateful day in December, 1977, was not the last time that I heard from my voice, which is coming.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

When that voice in my head changed my studies from science to business, it initiated eight years of idealism and disillusionment. This series of posts will not just deal with “unbelievable” events, but memorable events, which I think that my otherworldly “friends" often orchestrated. They were often related to the “unbelievable” events.

My second year of college was somewhat “wasted” when I changed majors, and I took Bookkeeping 101 and Introduction to Business in the spring of 1978. When the voice spoke to me, I was early in my relationship with my first girlfriend. She was an agriculture-management major and she planned to go to UC Davis. I decided to go to Berkeley to be close to her. Then she decided to go to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, and then that was where I was going. What a way to plan a life.

I had a lot of catching up to do and took 22 units in the autumn of 1978, which was a crazy class load. That was the semester that I met Professor Wayne. I was his star student that year, and when I went to Cal Poly, they tested us on how much we had learned before upper-class studies began, and I got the highest score at the university that quarter. The Cal Poly department chair taught that class, he soon took me under his wing, and I eventually became his paper grader and tutor. We stayed in touch for several years after I graduated, before my wild ride with Dennis Lee began. I aced all of the accounting classes that I ever took.

But I went to Cal Poly to chase my girlfriend. It was just “lucky” that Cal Poly had a respectable business school. We were in the same dorm building. She dumped me after we had been there a week. I had to watch her date other guys that year. I became lifelong friends with my roommate that year.

In the summer of 1981, I took my final accounting class, taught by that department chair. It was an accounting theory class, and the department chair gave us the test given to students about to graduate, to see how much they learned. It was essentially the theory portion of the CPA exam. I got the highest score in Cal Poly’s history. But it was the same class in which the department chair told a joke about accountants. A company interviewed for accountants, and the interview consisted of one question: “What is two plus two?” The accountant who replied with “What do you want it to be?” got the job. I remember being puzzled. It would take another seven years before I realized what that joke really meant.

As I graduated, I once again demonstrated how little I really cared for my career. The big LA accounting firms rolled out the red carpet for me, but I wanted to return to my natal city of Seattle and hike in the amazing Pacific Northwest. I picked the worst recession since the 1940s to graduate. After a brief misadventure working for a small CPA firm, doing tax returns (which I vowed the never do when I was in college) and being laid off soon after the tax-filing deadline of April 15^th, I crawled back down to California, defeated.

I lived with my mother for six months before landing a position with one of the big LA firms. While I lived with her, she remarried (my parents had an ugly divorce when I was 20). She met her new husband at the local newspaper, where she worked. I lived with them for several months before moving to LA. Her new husband’s name was Fred, and he had his own shows in Las Vegas during the Rat Pack era. He was a Frank Sinatra sound-alike. He once played a Frank Sinatra record for me, and on one of the songs, it was Fred singing, not Sinatra. Fred said that they did it without his permission and were afraid that he would sue, but he was flattered, not angry. Every day when I came home from work, Fred had that big band and Sinatra music playing, and I grew to like it. I have a Sinatra playlist that I listen to periodically. I eventually heard some of Fred’s stories from Vegas, when he lived across the street from the mobster who ran Vegas in those days.

I moved to LA at the end of 1982 and began my job in January, 1983. Like my misadventure in Seattle the year before, it did not go well for me in LA. I was a bit of a rube, but I was considered something of an idiot. That summer, I ended up working in Skid Row, auditing LA’s agency that tried to rehabilitate slums. The air pollution was awesome, and I tell some anecdotes of that air pollution in the accompanying video.

One day, on the way to lunch, I walked past a newly dead body. It was just life in Skid Row. My morning commute was like driving into hell. One morning, I burst into tears as I was driving, unable to take it any longer. But after that day, being in Skid Row no longer bothered me. For all the horrors that I saw in Skid Row, maybe the most depressing event was witnessing a street fair when I went in on the weekend to work. That summer, a new graduate was assigned to our engagement. She had been the valedictorian of her college, and I watched her initial shock of her job and Skid Row. I had been there, and I was sympathetic.

My drinking problems began in earnest in those days. We were expected to eat all meals at restaurants, drink at cocktail receptions regularly, and being a vegetarian was essentially forbidden. I was a fish out of water, and my three years in LA were my lifetime’s unhappiest.

Several dynamics led to my unhappiness in LA. The regimented lifestyle was part of it, which was not a lifestyle that I wanted to live. I was counseled that my shoes were not shiny enough and that I needed to “play the game.” I got out of LA whenever I could, and I had college friends in Bishop that I regularly visited, as we hiked and cross-country skied in the Sierras. I joined spirituality groups and was a movie junkie. In my first year in LA, I lived near Westwood, Beverly Hills, and Hollywood, and I watched a movie probably once a week.

Now for some of the unbelievable events...

I roomed with my dorm roommate during my first year in LA, and he took the Silva course the summer of 1982. I am friends with that Silva instructor to this day. In the dorms, my roomie, Robert, had cat scratch fever, and I did the laying of hands on his infection for ten minutes a day for a week, and he miraculously recovered. I had heard of using psychic energy to “mummify” fruit, and we tried it in LA, with amazing results. The control tomato rotted in two weeks while the one we zapped slowly mummified over the next two months. When I finally threw it out, it still had not rotted. I then tried it myself on a strawberry, and while the control strawberry became a puddle in a day, the zapped strawberry slowly mummified over the next week. A year later, I did hands-on with a girl who was dying of leukemia. She remarked on how the heat poured from my hands. She died three days later, which is a common outcome for psychic work like that, but her mother said that after our performance that first night, her daughter’s hospital room became a place of love and peace instead of the fear that prevailed before then. I became friends the mother for the rest of her life, and the last time that I saw her, she that said she thought that I had healed her broken neck. There are some amazing videos on YouTube on how hot the hands of adepts can be.

I led a backpack with my Bishop friend. It was my most ambitious backpack from my LA days. Although my friend had been a ranger in the area, I planned and led it. Three of the days were off-trail. I got us a little lost, but after consulting my topographic map, I got us back on track. On the third day, out of desperation I tried psychic weather control, which actually seemed to work for a few minutes, before we were nearly struck by lightning. That pass that we went over, when we came close to dying twice in an hour, my ranger friend said was the hardest pass that he ever did. The trip beat us up so badly that we cut it short.

In LA, one of the spirituality groups that I was involved with had a psychic spoon-bending class. There were 25 of us or so, but only one of us was successful, who was an old lady who used her Silva training to once take more than 40 college credits in a semester. When people are successful, the spoon often becomes a prized relic. When that old woman got home with her bent spoon, she stomped it back into shape and put it back in her silverware drawer where she got it from (as told to me by her daughter). I could tell other telekinetic stories from those days.

In the spring of 1983, during my first audit class at my firm, I asked how our profession benefitted society, and everybody laughed at my question. The partner answered the question with a straight face, even with all of the laughing.

In my second year in LA, I was drafted onto an audit of the world’s biggest savings and loan (“S&L”) bank. It was recording record revenues and profits until it ran out of money and it had a 1930s-style bank run before the federal government stepped in to prevent its collapse with billions of dollars in loans. After a month there, the partner that ran that audit told me that our profession was essentially worthless, but like with that “two-plus-two” joke, it took several more years before I understood what he meant. Nearly all of the big S&Ls were cooking their books with phony transactions and other strategies, and my profession abetted it by signing off on the phony statements. The S&L Scandal marked the beginning of the consolidation of my original profession, as it went from eight firms to the four that exist today. The S&L industry was doomed by the oil-price shocks of the 1970s, and it would have been relatively cheap to wind it down, but Reagan deregulated it, which led to a $150 billion disaster that taxpayers ended up paying for. On that audit, that partner who answered that question of mine in the auditing class was there for a week or so, and I saw what he really thought about the value of audits, as he joked about an audit opinion that he held (he said that the signature on the audit opinion looked “shaky”).

During my second year on that S&L audit, I was a pile of wrecked nerves, and my boss told me one day that I could leave the company at my leisure. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. That evening, my “friends” threw another “test” at me, as I saved a hooker from her customer in another hard-to-believe event. My life was full of larger-than-life moments like that.

One event that I almost forgot to mention was having a close relative who was a CIA contract agent who worked for Henry Kissinger. He nearly tried to recruit me into the “business.” He was one of three people that I lived with who took lives, and other friends also did.

The grittiness that I saw in my LA days helped put a fire under me to end this world, although I had no idea how to at the time. I had tried to get a job in Seattle the previous summer but came up empty. I had resigned myself to living in LA and building a war chest for an eventual move back to Seattle. But one day, after a week of seeking a new job, I felt backed into a corner once again. For the second and so far last time in my life, I desperately prayed for guidance before going to sleep. The next morning, the voice spoke to me again. It was not as dramatic as the first time, but within the first half hour of awakening, the voice said to move to Seattle, as I had little left to lose. I could live with my grandparents for free while I searched for work, and I had a bit of a yuppie war chest. I was ecstatic and called my boss to tell him that I would leave the company that week. It was either that evening or the next evening when I had a “farewell” moment in LA when I saw a security woman shove a gun in a man’s face. In the accompanying video I describe that event and the others in this post.

So, how many of those events seem believable? They all happened and more, and my wild ride had not even started yet.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

This post will be about Dennis Lee’s early experiences before I met him. My unbelievable experiences are trivial when compared to Dennis’s. He should be dead dozens of times over, as the Indiana Jones of free energy. His heritage is similar to mine. Born in 1946, he has Scots-Irish heritage and grew up as a migrant farmworker. Like his father did, Dennis left home at age 13, which was not unusual for that culture in those days.

Dennis’s IQ is unsurprisingly higher than mine, and he kept going to school after he left home. He worked for a living and slept in abandoned homes and the like. He would do things such as sleep on the second floor of an abandoned home and booby-trap the stairs so that he would not be surprised, as the men in that fringe culture would readily kill a teenage boy on his own like that. Dennis had many hair-raising experiences from those days.

During his last two years of high school, he was able to hide and sleep in the janitor’s closet. He was discovered there two weeks before graduation and was expelled, in those benighted times. He then did what farmer youth had long done in the USA and enlisted in the army. He was a paratrooping medic, stationed in Germany, and was inducted into Special Forces when he got an infirmary to pass its inspection for the first time ever. Dennis was recognized by the author of the Operation Northwoods, document: Lyman Lemnitzer. Dennis worked so hard to pass that inspection (he barely slept for days) that he had an out-of-body experience one night floating around his base, but he had no framework to understand what he experienced.

I have written about his early adventures many times, and this series is just dealing with the more unbelievable events. Dennis asked Lemnitzer to be exempt from Vietnam duty (Dennis liked living in Germany), as Lemnitzer stated that he owed Dennis a favor. But a month before he was discharged, Dennis was inducted into a mission into Cambodia, to clean up a CIA operation gone bad. He was in combat and killed people.

When he was discharged, he went home to Yakima, Washington, and his first civilian job was loading munitions that went to Vietnam. Dennis was an idealist who believed in the American Dream. American nationalism was his first religion. His mother took him to Sunday sermons while growing up, but Dennis did not buy the Bible stories.

Dennis’s nationalistic illusions went up in smoke one day in a bank lobby, as he saw how the branch manager treated a starving family that came into the bank for help. Dennis has always been one for extravagant gestures, and he gave the money that he just borrowed to the starving family, as well as his new car, and he went home to kill himself. With his shotgun barrel in his mouth, a voice in his head spoke up, and Dennis had a long conversation with it. It was far more dramatic than my first encounter with the voice in my head, but was also typical. The basic outcome was that while Dennis realized that he been indoctrinated into believing in something that did not exist, he would live his life to make that illusion a reality. Dennis considers every day since then gravy, as he was about to pull the trigger when the voice popped up. Dennis calls that voice “God.”

Dennis attended the local community college, got straight A’s, and became the president of the student body. Dennis’s dream was to become a surgeon. He performed surgical work as a medic.

Dennis spent one summer working on a radar base in Alaska, in the infirmary. His boss pioneered heart surgeries for children and buried most of his patients. He told Dennis that he would pay for the rest of his education if Dennis did not become a surgeon.

The local mobsters tried to recruit Dennis to dispense their illegal drugs, but Dennis instead worked with the FBI to bust them. Once the bust was made, which took out quite a bit of the local mob, Dennis survived two murder attempts and left Alaska. He moved to New Jersey, of all places, to escape mobsters and take up that offer from his boss, and he went to college in Newark. Dennis studied social psychology and Utopian civilizations. He was again at the top of his classes and was soon before graduation he was invited to a conference that B.F. Skinner held. To Dennis’s horror, the conference was essentially about applying Pavlov’s work to humans, to manipulate the public into believing anything. Dennis sat near the stage in a special section, and after he had had enough, he stood up, gave Skinner the Hitler salute, stormed out, and dropped out of college on the brink of graduation.

In his last year of college, Dennis worked as an aluminum siding salesman for Sears, and his paycheck was larger than the rest of his department’s combined, including his boss. Dennis is one of the greatest salesmen who ever lived. But his incredible salesmanship did not fit in with the staid Sears environment, and Sears fired him. Dennis never worked as an employee again.

Dennis hobnobbed with the Eastern Oligarchy in New Jersey and made deathbed pledge to an heiress to protect her daughter from her daughter’s father, who was the heiress’s ex-husband. Dennis married the daughter (instead of adopt her), and after he dropped out of college, Dennis began a home remodeling business that was soon wiped out the USA’s first Oil Crisis in 1974. That event ended the postwar boom and many construction companies failed in those days. Dennis had a daughter with his wife who was born premature and who never left the hospital and died before her first birthday.

After his first business disaster (and Dennis was hoodwinked into pleading guilty to fraud for his failed business, which has haunted Dennis ever since), Dennis had a bout of something like automatic writing for a few days and invented a business concept that united the consumer, to give them a voice in the marketplace. It has since reincarnated in a watered-down form as Sears’s Discover Card. Dennis’s genius has been applied ever since in the business world. He invented amazing business ideas, and he fended off attempts to steal his companies many times, and those attempts were frequently successful. In New Jersey, the Mob often tried muscling in on his businesses. Dennis has been hung out of windows by his ankles (and he would laugh at them as they did that), he survived one Mob hit attempt in a way that earned their “respect,” and they left Dennis alone after that, as he became a Mob legend. After two years of running his company, it was in dire straits. Dennis met his second wife and became a Christian in those days, in a moment of inspiration. When he became a Christian, it was the kind that he saw as a child, as he never quite left his agrarian roots behind. Dennis and his wife, Alison, lived in their office and literally starved. Dennis got rheumatoid arthritis, which his father eventually died of at about age 60, could not walk, but he had an instantaneous faith healing one day in his office. Dennis tried to give his failing company away to televangelist Pat Robertson, but Robertson decided to invest in it instead. Robertson soon pulled out when his business advisors mischaracterized Dennis’s multi-level marketing plan as a pyramid scheme.

After the failure of that business, Dennis got into the energy industry, and that comes next. How many of those experiences are hard to believe? Dennis’s adventures were just beginning.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

After the failure of his coupon-card company, Dennis got involved with low-flow showerheads on the Jersey Shore. I believe that Dennis invented the first shared-savings energy program with that short-lived venture. His genius was evident with his marketing plans and related financial engineering, but his industrialization of new businesses that had not graduated beyond the craftsman stage may have been his greatest achievements. His coupon card generated savings as it was used, and shared savings became a hallmark of Dennis’s programs. But he needed to marry it with something that generated real economic savings in order to really work.

With the first energy crisis, Americans began to understand the virtues of energy conservation. Dennis soon got involved in the insulation business. Urea-formaldehyde insulation was used commercially in the 1930s, but became popular in the 1970s. When Dennis got involved, it was applied by a man with a hose, bucket, and foam mix. Consequently, it had poor quality control, and poorly mixed foam could off-gas and create a health hazard. Dennis soon invented a system of computer-mixed foam on a cart, and a team of installers could do a neighborhood in a day. It was a quantum leap beyond what had been done before, and when Dennis got involved, companies skyrocketed.

Skyrocketing companies create their own sets of problems. One is just the organization trying to keep up with the explosive growth. I eventually lived through that. The bigger issue is that capitalism is essentially sanctified greed. When his companies skyrocketed, Dennis made it look easy, and his business associates soon got the idea that if they stole Dennis’s company, then they could sit back and watch the easy money roll in. It was an idiotic idea, as well as criminal, as Dennis’s unparalleled talent was what made it all work, but attempted thefts by his business associates were a near-constant in those days. The other problem was that explosive growth like that had losers. With foam insulation, the fiberglass interests lost market share. In New Jersey and East Coast in general, the Mob was always looking at ways to muscle in on businesses like that. Vested interests control the media, as Ed Herman’s Propaganda Model makes clear, so in those days, Dennis had to deal with his business partners trying to steal his companies, mobsters trying to muscle in, and being smeared in the media on behalf of the vested interests. A Delaware newspaper named Dennis the “Con Man of the Year.”

In a way, Dennis’s experience was very similar to my mentor’s. All of his inventions were stolen, suppressed, or both.

So, Dennis had his companies stolen, mobsters muscled in, etc. When some mobsters stole the company and it then collapsed, they blamed Dennis for the failure and were going to break his legs, when Dennis was “saved” by coming down with Guillain-Barré syndrome. He was soon paralyzed from the neck down. With his company recently stolen, he was destitute, and his wife Alison had recently given birth to her first child, a daughter. Being a veteran, Dennis was treated at a Veteran’s Administration (“VA”) hospital. The VA hospital scenes in Born on the Fourth of July were not exaggerations. The VA’s negligence nearly killed Dennis three times, and he can barely walk to this day because of it.

As he recovered from the VA experience, he had to feed his family and got back into the energy-conservation business. He had a mall show of energy-saving equipment, and one of his employees wanted to display a solar heating system. Dennis considered solar systems scams, which they largely were. Carter’s energy tax credit was about the only reason why solar systems were sold in those days. But Dennis’s employee said that it was different, and Dennis allowed him to display it in a distant corner of the show, out of the way. During the show, and man asked about that solar system in the back, and Dennis tried to interest him in the other technologies that he sold. But that man kept coming back, asking about the system. Dennis finally had enough and said that he could buy it for $12,000, and the man said he was interested. That got Dennis’s attention. Dennis had stumbled into the world’s best heating system. It still is. That system cut the energetic cost of heating by more than half.

Dennis was in Delaware at the time, and that interested man was a scientist. Dennis listened to the scientist and salesman talk late into the night, and the scientist bought a system. Dennis then got involved, thought big, as usual, and in a month he had sold nearly 300 systems in one county in Delaware, by using his ingenious shared-savings ideas and putting the systems on the customers’ homes for free by using Carter’s tax credit. The customers only paid the remaining balance from proven energy savings. If the system did not save on energy bills, the customers paid nothing. Dennis then learned that the company that made the heating system only sold a few per year for the entire East Coast.

Dennis ran into a similar situation that he did with the insulation business. Half of the customers installed the systems themselves, as a science project. Poor installation ruined system performance, so Dennis had the systems he sold installed professionally, and Dennis once again began thinking big. He saw a market for millions of American homes. He planned to use Carter’s tax credit for his program of carpeting the USA with that heating system. Dennis tried to interest the biggest company on Earth that sold the inferior version of the heating system but were easy to install. They weren’t interested. They had a fine racket going with the energy industry, selling their shoddy equipment.

Under my mentor and Dennis, I became a student of genius, and I eventually realized that genius is rarely recognized. It often goes way over people’s heads. Almost without exception, nobody understood the genius of Dennis’s plan, but the chairman of the board of American Express did. American Express was about to commit $1 billion to carpeting the USA with that heating system. This was a couple of years into Dennis’s involvement. By that time, Dennis owned one-third of the company that made that heating system, and Dennis lived in the Hamptons.

Just as Dennis was about to get the American Express deal done, the original owners of the company stole hundreds of thousands of dollars from Dennis, the Mob stole the company, and Dennis was once again destitute, but with three children.

That happened in late 1983, and Dennis decided to take his family to Yakima for Christmas, to introduce his newborn son to his family. That began the next chapter of Dennis’s adventures, which included the greatest attempt ever made to bring alternative energy to the American marketplace. That comes next.

This is a highly condensed rendering of the events. Dennis survived at least one murder attempt in those days and came close to killing people himself before he finally renounced violence as any kind of solution.

I got this information from Dennis, largely when I lived with him. I also heard about events from Alison, who lived through them. I also used Dennis’s books, particularly My Quest.

In the days recounted in this post, Dennis survived at least one murder attempt, nearly died several times, was paralyzed, had his companies stolen repeatedly, was on the brink of a billion-dollar deal to put the world’s best heating system on people’s homes for free, and fathered three children. He was still just getting warmed up.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

This series of posts focuses on unbelievable events, but I also put in some of the context in which the events happened. After Dennis had his company stolen once more in 1983, by mobsters that time, he took his family to Yakima, Washington, his home town, to introduce his son to the rest of his family. His son promptly died of crib death. Two of Dennis’s four children died as infants. I have written at length (1, 2, 3) about Dennis’s days in Washington, between 1983 and 1986, so this will be brief.

Dennis had unwittingly stumbled into an energy crisis in his home state. He initially could not sell the world’s best heating system in Washington, with the cheapest electricity on Earth, at one cent per kilowatt-hour. But the biggest municipal bond default in American history to that time caused electricity prices to skyrocket. Those bonds were floated to build nuclear power plants that were largely not completed. With many thousands of homes and businesses that heated with the formerly cheap electricity, they were in big trouble when electricity quickly went to three cents, with no end in sight. Dennis’s heating system would save all-electric customers about 85% of their heating costs. The electric companies promoted air-to-air heat pumps that would save about 50%. Dennis learned the hard way that 85% savings was far more than the electric companies had in mind. If Dennis carpeted Washington with the heating system, the electric companies would lose billions of dollars in revenues. It really was that simple, as far as what happened in Seattle from 1984 to 1986. Dennis originally thought that the electric companies would love him, as his heating system brought the conservation that their full-page ads begged for. He had yet to learn that the ads were propaganda, not a genuine plea for conservation.

Dennis began to experiment with his heating system in Yakima, and a local oligarch showed Dennis that if he did not ally with the local oligarchy, he would not be able to do business there. Dennis wasted nearly a year with that oligarch. Carter’s tax credit would expire at the end of 1985, and Dennis’s great opportunity would end. He decided to make one more run at it before the tax credit expired, and he moved to Seattle in the autumn of 1984. As usual, Dennis arrived in Seattle destitute.

There have been many “it’s a small world” moments in our journeys, and Dennis got a big one when he hit Seattle. When Dennis was close to a deal with American Express, they wanted patent protection. The original patent was pretty much worthless and was based on an early prototype, and the technology had improved a lot in the decade since then, partly due to Dennis, who spent $1 million on R&D. When his company was stolen in 1983, one of its dealers stole the patent. When Dennis hit Seattle, he discovered that a bank was making Dennis’s heating system. They were building it from the original patent and trying to sell them for cash – the usual path of disaster. That bank went out of business the next year. Dennis soon met the man who stole the patent, and he bragged to Dennis about how he stole it. Dennis laughed when he heard that, as that theft helped blow apart a $1 billion deal. Dennis let that man revel in his greedy ignorance.

Dennis walked into that bank and told them that their problems were over. He could rescue them, but they treated him like some beggar.

Dennis’s style until then was stacking up sales contracts and using those to fund the operation to build and install them. Again, putting the world’s best heating system on people’s homes for free is the most brilliant and benevolent business strategy that I ever heard of. Dennis told me that every time that his businesses were stolen, the first thing that the thieves did was discard Dennis’s “crazy” marketing plans, when it was what made it all happen. America’s entrepreneurial waters are filled with greed-blinded idiocy like that.

Dennis got busy selling systems and was going to use that bank to give his efforts credibility. Just as he rescued the bank and its dealers, his deal got blown apart by unknown interests. He was told by a bank officer that no bank in Seattle would work with him. Dennis had to finally leave the Seattle area to find a bank willing to work with him, and he found one in Spokane. Like the chairman of American Express, John Spickard, who founded the Spokane finance company, understood what Dennis was doing. John saw a historic opportunity and also wanted a piece of the action. He put Dennis in contact with the owners of a shell company, to quickly take Dennis’s company public. Dennis lined up a manufacturer and sold 1,000 systems by June of 1985. When Dennis bought the shell, John got 10% of the company, 10% were other early investors and the original shell owners, and Dennis owned the remaining 80%. By June, Dennis’s stock was worth $50 million. Dennis went from destitute to a net worth of $50 million in less than eight months. That might be some kind of record.

Just as it finally looked like Dennis would carpet the Seattle area with his heating system, the electric companies unmasked themselves. They were behind those killed bank deals. One electric company held a press conference, called Dennis’s company a scam, and called for an investigation by Washington’s attorney general. Around the same time, Chase Manhattan Bank, the Rockefellers’ bank, wiped out Dennis’s manufacturer. Soon afterward, a genuine corporate hit man, Bill Delp, approached Dennis’s company. He worked for the Bonneville Power Administration (“BPA”), which was the ringleader of Washington’s electric companies. Dennis and his wife, Alison, knew that Bill was not who he presented himself as, but Dennis hired him anyway, to keep his enemy close. Bill was soon responsible for the death of one of Dennis’s employees, which radicalized Dennis. Then came the attorney general, with a completely fraudulent “investigation.” Washington’s electric industry was pulling out all of the stops to wipe out Dennis’s company. A BPA employee later admitted that what Dennis was doing terrified them.

Incredibly, under that withering fire from all directions, Dennis was able to build a factory and install 400 systems by the end of the year. On New Year’s Eve, which was when Carter’s tax credit expired, an assassin came to Dennis’s home. He said that if Dennis came along willingly, he would not kill Dennis’s wife and children. What the assassin did not count on was Dennis’s installer teams coming to Dennis’s house to celebrate installing all of the systems by the deadline (they would swim in the pool in Dennis’s basement). They arrived just as the assassin was leading Dennis from his home. The head of Dennis’s marketing department soon hired a bodyguard for Dennis.

Bill filed a fraudulent bankruptcy lawsuit, which the courts allowed to strangle Dennis’s company. The lawsuit had no legal standing and was built on lies, but the federal bankruptcy court was in on it, as well as Dennis’s own attorney, who had been gotten to (I saw that more than once). Bill’s use of the legal system as a weapon was one of his signature moves.

What happened in Seattle from 1984 to 1986 was the greatest attempt ever made to bring alternative energy to the American marketplace. It was not just the local electric industry that wiped out Dennis’s company, but the Rockefellers got involved and so did the global elite.

That just hit the highlights. How much of that is hard to believe? In less than two years’ time, Dennis went from destitute to worth $50 million to destitute again. His son died. One of his employees died because of a hit man’s efforts, Dennis survived a murder attempt himself, and he eventually had a bodyguard. I was not there for those events, but I heard about them plenty over the years, from many participants. After the company was stolen, when the “loyalists” met, I repeated the conversation that Dennis told me about his employee’s death, and Mr. Engineer said that it happened exactly as I said (the employee worked for him). I was able to verify the date of her death, which agreed to Dennis’s rendition.

Independent converging evidence and testimony is how the legal system operates. Independent converging lines of evidence (consilience) is also how science ideally operates. Everything that I assert in my writings is supported, and often by converging lines of evidence. If I speculate about anything, it is very clear that I am speculating. But I rarely speculate in my work. The evidence that supports my views is highly compelling. There is little need to speculate, and speculation is where people go awry on the fringes all the time, as they treat rumors as fact, etc.

By February of 1986, the company was in its death throes. That was when the voice in my head told me to move to Seattle. My wild ride was about to begin.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

As I wrote in a prior post, after eight years of idealism and disillusionment, I made my lifetime’s second and so-far last desperate prayer. The resultant voice in my head told me to move to Seattle. Ten days later, I interviewed at Dennis Lee’s company. Even I sometimes wonder if it really happened like that. When that recruiter asked me to be ready for an interview that afternoon with a “solar” company, it felt like a lightning bolt hit me, which still reverberates over 40 years later.

My second interview was with Dennis and his wife, Alison. Dennis later told me that I was shaking in the interview. They hired me to start the next day. That evening, March 18, 1986, Dennis gave a speech at the Seattle Center. Several hundred people attended (maybe a thousand), and several news camera crews recorded it. Dennis announced his intention to sell electricity and compete directly with the electric companies, although he didn’t know how yet. The attorney of Bill Delp, the hit man for the electric companies, sat in front of me and heckled Dennis with what I later learned were lies about Bill’s phony bankruptcy lawsuit. Dennis got a standing ovation. I lived with my grandparents on Queen Anne Hill and walked to Dennis’s speech and back. I vividly recall my stunned exhilaration as I walked home after Dennis’s speech, as I began to realize what I was getting involved with.

About a week later, a Canadian news show that recorded Dennis’s speech had a five-minute clip on our company. It was the only positive TV news coverage that I ever saw on Dennis. About a week after that, one of Seattle’s TV news stations had a clip on our company, which I watched with Dennis in the office. That time, the newswoman lied about the tax credit that Dennis’s heating system had always qualified for, if the buyer called the system “solar refrigeration” instead of a “heat pump,” as air-to-air heat pumps did not qualify for Carter’s tax credit. That segment was the only time that I ever saw Betsy, who was the attorney general’s attack dog who quit when her conscience finally awakened. That segment had a customer who didn’t follow instructions and called it a “heat pump” on his tax return, so his credit was initially denied. If he refiled and called it “solar refrigeration,” he should have received the credit. The newswoman finished the segment by stating that Dennis’s heating system did not qualify for the tax credit, which was a lie. That reporter was a “consumer protection” legend in Seattle. When that segment was over, Dennis said, “They found somebody who didn’t do it right.” The other 400 customers did it right and got their $4,000 tax credit. Dennis testified at Congressional hearings regarding the tax credit and was assigned to write performance requirements into the next credits. That Seattle news show was my first inkling that maybe the media did not pursue the truth. Over the next three years, I got both barrels of the media’s incessant lying, and I eventually realized that the media can make it up as it goes. I learned that lesson before I ever heard of Noam Chomsky and Ed Herman.

My job was constructing the company’s books from scratch and making financial statements. That took two months, but I only got one paycheck before the company could no longer make payroll. I had no idea at the time that I was constructing the records of the greatest attempt ever made to bring alternative energy to the American marketplace. The year between the moment that the voice told me to move to Seattle and our first Greatest Energy Shows on Earth was my lifetime’s happiest year. I was finally pursuing my teenage dream. It was also the best hiking year of my life, as I hiked every weekend with my cousin. Oh, what our bodies can do in their twenties.

When the company stopped making payroll, it got kind of sparse in the office, but I thought that I was surrounded by people who believed in the cause. It was the only time in my life that I felt that way, and I would be disabused of my naïveté in the coming years. There were some memorable moments during those days in Seattle with Dennis. One was when Dennis told us about his visit to Joe Newman’s operation, after I had been there about two months. It was the first time that I had ever heard of free energy. Around the same time, I gave Dennis a ride home after work, and he told me about his employee’s death, courtesy of Bill Delp. It obviously deeply impacted Dennis, and I later learned that it was his initial radicalizing moment in his energy journey.

But my first big wakeup call happened in early June, when my boss helped engineer the theft of Dennis’s company on behalf of Mormon grifters who originally sold Dennis the shell company. That my boss did it was bad enough, and our general counsel was his assistant in the theft, but my first big awakening moment was at the shareholders’ meeting, when it became clear that the theft was successful and a cheer went up from the crowd. They were the same people who gave Dennis a standing ovation less than three months earlier. They were going to cheer whoever promised to pay them.

Many years later, I heard from Steven Greer that the Mormon financial empire was the ringleader of the global elite, who keep the lid on free energy, antigravity, and other technologies. When I heard that, it was one of the “isn’t that interesting?” moments of my life, as Mormons led the effort to steal both our Seattle and Ventura companies. Dennis also later learned that the Mormon financial empire was the biggest investor in Washington’s electric companies. I strongly doubt that those were coincidences. The global elite were very likely involved in what happened in Seattle. That the Rockefellers’ bank wiped out Dennis’s manufacturer I also doubt was a coincidence. Many interests were involved with what happened in Seattle. Bill and Betsy were just some of the people who got their hands bloody, and they likely had no idea whose interests they ultimately served. They probably didn’t even care.

Out of the several hundred employees that Dennis had at the end of 1985, about ten of us became the “loyalists” who met each week after the company was stolen. We had not been paid for months by that time, and the others quickly dropped out, leaving me as the only person from the Seattle company who was willing to go help Dennis rebuild the effort. Dennis initially tried to talk me out of following him to Boston, but two weeks later, when I persisted, he relented and told me to come on out.

I had another salient awakening moment that summer, when I attended the bankruptcy trial and watched various groups fight over the carcass of Dennis’s company.

I became friendly with an inventor in Dennis’s stable, named Bob. Bob unwittingly helped General Motors steal patents after World War II, and when he worked for them, he heard of a Chevy pickup prototype that was accidentally sold to an unwitting customer, who was the happiest customer on Earth when his pickup got 70 miles per gallon. General Motors moved heaven and Earth to get that pickup back. That was far from the first story that I heard like that, and far from the last. Dennis got into that game himself.

When our souls plan our lives, many tentative agreements are made for key events, such as mating agreements. There were four women that I could have married before I met my wife. I believe that I likely had mating agreements with them, as all of our relationships had bizarre circumstances. I got together with the last one before I met my wife as I left Seattle, when strange events conspired to bring us together. I left Seattle with tears in my eyes, as I chased Dennis to Boston. Chasing Dennis like that was about the hardest thing that I ever did. I think that it was my final test.

On the way to Boston I visited my family in Ventura and friends in LA. That was also when I attended my first channeling session and met Seth, who read my mind in a spectacular encounter. I rolled into Boston in late November, 1986, and if somebody told me what was ahead of me, I would not have believed any of it.

I look back at that time in Seattle as kind of surreal. My “friends” led me into it, and in the accompanying video, I get into some details of the unbelievable events. It was all way larger than life. My free will in this lifetime seems limited to dealing with what my “friends” have thrown at me on my journey. I have had too much adventure, and I have sought the quiet life for the past 36 years, as I juggled my life with my study and writing. But I still have incredible events in my life.

Is it hard to believe that there is a global elite or that the Mormon financial empire is the current ringleader? How about the idea that General Motors stole patents and has had high-MPG technology at least since the 1940s? I know similar stories about the other American car companies, from people who were involved. How about the idea of free energy? What about Bill Delp and Betsy, who got their hands bloody in taking out Dennis’s company? Does anybody think that they were just innocently doing their jobs? What about those media lies? What that just sloppy reporting by a “consumer protection” legend? Does anybody think that Mormons stealing both our Seattle and Ventura companies was just a coincidence? How about the same people who stole the company of Dennis’s financier used that theft to steal Dennis’s company. What that a coincidence? What about the cheer that went up when Dennis’s company was stolen, in a theft that was engineered by my boss? How about several factions that fought over the carcass of Dennis’s Seattle company? How about my meeting with Seth, who soon demonstrated that he could read my mind? The girlfriend drama that seemed to try to keep me in Seattle was otherworldly. How about the voice in my head that led me into that? That was the most unbelievable part of it all for me. Even I look back at those events and wonder if they really happened that way, but they did.

My days in Seattle were just a gentle prelude for what was in store for me.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

When I arrived in Boston at 7 AM in late November, 1986, after having driven for the previous 24 hours, I met Dennis, who called me an enigma. He said that he didn’t know why I was there, but he trusted his “God” to bring him who was needed. I told him that it was my mentor’s influence. I have covered those days at length, and this will focus on the more unbelievable parts of my days in Boston.

The day after I arrived, Dennis and I met with a company that made electricity using hot water, and Dennis got his first free-energy idea that day. I had essentially no income since I escaped LA, guided by that voice in my head. Soon after I arrived, I began fasting because it was cheaper than eating, and I fasted for 45 days, for my lifetime’s longest fast.

I began learning about Dennis’s history, initially by videos that he made for an heiress who planned to be his angel investor (people like that never came through that I ever heard of). Dennis had a pile of documents to prove his story. The family that hosted us was on their way to bankruptcy, Dennis tried to rescue them, but they fought him the entire way. We soon moved out of their house and one of Dennis’s customers quickly realized that Dennis was the talent in the organization. He was going to invest $1 million and become Dennis’s 50/50 partner.

I got a job with the Kennedys, waiting for Dennis to start making something happen. On the day that the investor was going to put up his initial $20K, he pulled out. All that I knew was that he was going to put up $20K and be Dennis’s 50/50 partner. I didn’t know about the $1 million commitment. When he pulled out, we were high and dry, and our rent check was about to bounce, as that man betrayed Dennis by reneging on what he already gave Dennis (maybe $2k). Becoming Dennis’s partner was beyond my wildest imagination until that day. I asked Dennis if I could become his partner if I put in $20K. Dennis later said that it was hard not to laugh at me, as I was fasting because it was cheaper than eating. But I raised $25K from friends and family that day, and I guaranteed their investment. Dennis never told me that I got a 98% discount. I read it in one of his books years later. A Christmas card to Professor Wayne led to his magnanimous gift to me, which led him into our effort. I was soon attacked by about my smallest investor, whom I think I had a mating agreement with. I was quickly losing my innocence.

We were off and running, and a month later we put on our first Greatest Energy Shows on Earth. The media ignored us, except for a small local paper, which gave us positive coverage (the last time that I ever saw positive coverage). We soon had several events that I didn’t understand until many years later. For starters, the global elite began engaging us, but they played a subtle game. The first contacts were anonymous calls that Dennis received on his private line at night. They were brief calls, telling Dennis to keep up the good work. That was from the “White Hat” faction. The “Black Hats” soon offered us $10 million for Dennis’s idea. More than a decade later, I learned that $10 million was the going rate, and several years after that, I learned that they had paid out 10,000 people like that over the years, and the number has likely doubled since then. It was a standard strategy. I did not even know that there was a global elite until more than a decade after first encountering them.
I soon met my first tycoon, who came to our office, sniffing for opportunities. As in Washington, Dennis stumbled into another nuclear energy controversy in Boston with the Seabrook nuclear plant. It launched an astroturf ad campaign in early 1987. We held a show near Seabrook’s front gates, and Dennis announced his intention to buy it and never put nuclear fuel in it. He soon had an audience with Seabrook’s chairman, which was a radically different treatment from the Seattle days.

When Betsy quit her job in the middle of bludgeoning Dennis’s company in Seattle, she was quickly replaced with another lying official. I read her lies for years. She teaches law school today and is a noted “philanthropist.” She sicced Massachusetts authorities on Dennis as soon as he arrived in Boston. They prepared to criminally prosecute us, but they could not find any laws that we were breaking. Before they could just make something up, we left the state.

We left Boston because I brought out my mentor to see if Dennis’s idea had merit. Dennis soon realized that my mentor really had a Tesla-level mind, and he desperately wanted to work with him. They cut a deal without my knowledge, to bring the company to my home town of Ventura, California, so that they could work together. We moved there in June, 1987, and Wayne was busily raising money for us.

The Boston days had their fair share of unbelievable events. Dennis got his free-energy idea the day after I arrived. I fasted because it was cheaper than eating, but raised the money to become his partner, which rescued us. We soon put on shows and the global elite approached us, both its “Black Hat” and “White Hat” factions, with encouraging phone calls and a buyout offer. I met my first tycoon and New England’s electric companies had secret meetings regarding what to do about us. Dennis’s audience with New England’s most powerful electric executive was an attempt to placate us. I brought out my mentor to assess our effort, and the next thing I knew, we moved the operation to my home town of Ventura. Even though I had a general inkling from my journey with Dennis so far of what could happen, I could have never imagined what the next three years would bring.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

On the way to California, we stopped in Michigan, where Amway tested what turned out to be a broken system, and they declined involvement with Dennis’s heat pump. That was some poor due diligence by Amway. I drove the truck to Ventura, towing my Pinto behind it. Dennis took his family to Yakima, where he visited his dying father.

When they moved to Ventura in July, 1987, I soon moved in with them. We lived only a few miles from where I was raised, a few blocks from the County Center, where I worked before moving to LA. My life, from when we moved to Ventura when I was eight, to when I left home at age 21, to when I lived there again before moving to LA, all happened within a few miles of my childhood home. My mother and father lived there, and my brothers often did. The last place on Earth where I wanted to be was back in Southern California. I had already left twice, vowing to never return, and there I was. My otherworldly “friends” were jerking the strings of my life.

Dennis soon became deathly ill. I think that it was his kidneys. One evening, he laid in agony, groaning on the floor of a room in the house. He was the company. I did my hands-on healing, but without touching him, holding my hands inches from his body. Within a few days, he miraculously recovered, and the physician that he saw was amazed at his recovery.

While flailing in Boston, Dennis created ten national regions for our effort. Professor Wayne eagerly took the West Coast region and raised money. When Dennis arrived, Wayne handed us $40K and told us to go make it happen. Dennis never before had investors like Wayne and me. Dennis was used to fighting with his business partners, who often tried to steal the company.

Before we rented a facility, we used Wayne’s office in his private practice in the evenings. It was only a few blocks from where we lived. Dennis ran an ad in the LA Times, looking for salesmen. Dennis was always sales-oriented. One evening, Dennis and I worked in Wayne’s office, and Dennis was calling back responses to the ad, and I think that I heard of the fate of the company that stole my mentor’s engine: bigger predators kangarooed them into prison.

Dennis then ran an ad in USA Today, to sell information kits on how to sell, build, and install his heat pump. It is still the world’s best heating system. He sold one kit for $2K or all three for $5K. Checks soon began pouring in from across the USA. Dennis had found his next rocket. All that I had seen was bloody ruin since I met Dennis. I didn’t understand that he found the next rocket, and neither did his wife, Alison. But one day in the kitchen, Dennis mimicked a dowser to us, and said that this was what we had been looking for.

About a week later, my mentor came aboard and proposed to marry a variation of his engine with the panels from Dennis’s heat pump, to do free energy. Our facility was about half office and half warehouse. We built a machine shop in the back and began building a prototype of my mentor’s engine. It was around that time that my mentor told me about a government meeting during the hullabaloo over his engine. An official told him that if he thought that his engine would make the internal combustion engine obsolete, to make his funeral plans. He had already seen how the Detroit car companies owned the patents on high-MPG carburetors.

The company immediately began to skyrocket. We went from a few volunteers to 40 employees in two months, and we were a month behind in shipping the avalanche of orders. We soon rented the adjacent building. I was soon working 70-hour weeks to try to keep up with the explosive growth. That summer, I saw more attempts to steal our company. One day, I told Dennis how shocking it was to see our associates try to steal our company, and Dennis replied with, “The first 50 times I saw it, I was shocked, too.” That is the normal entrepreneurial waters in the USA, which is often criminal. Mobsters make great capitalists (there was a paean to capitalism in The Godfather), and the global elite have taken that criminality to unprecedented highs.

We soon became a mecca in the alternative world. A Japanese trade official visited Dennis in our office. I am sure that I only heard a small fraction of the stories that were told to us by people who approached us from all over the world in those days. I have related some of them, such as:

• The windmill tycoon whose family was threatened to wipe him out (the first but not last time that I heard the “we will kill your family” threat);
• The platinum miners who got wiped out (one of them, a college professor, was never seen again and other one went into hiding) by the Eastern Oligarchy;
• Two elderly brothers who were at a conference where Max Gerson was poisoned, to wipe out his cancer treatment;
• A man who fought the federal government when it tried to classify his engine;
• A European immigrant who successfully took on the IRS in court and won (on the idea that it is not legally empowered by the Constitution to levy and collect taxes);
• A free-energy inventor whose family was murdered, and their house was set on fire and bulldozed, with them in it;
• A Constitutionalist group from Montana who similarly had their compound set afire and bulldozed, and its members were murdered;
• A minister from New Zealand, who told me that the corruption that we encountered was universal on Earth, as no nation is free of it.

Some was lighthearted, such as a man who told me that he spoke to Albert Einstein one day, when he called Princeton’s physics department. Einstein answered the phone and soon discussed the universe’s baffling mysteries.

One attorney came from Washington, D.C., and he knew the USA’s attorney general at the time, Edwin Meese. He asked Meese what the Justice Department knew about Dennis. Meese replied that they had repeatedly investigated Dennis, and that he was “squeaky clean.” That attorney said ““squeaky clean” as he handed Dennis a $10K check for two full kits. In those days, Dennis got another anonymous encouraging phone call or two from what I now know was a dissident faction of the global elite.

Wayne was a pillar of the community, and he knew somebody on the inside at the local electric company. He asked what they thought of Dennis. The reply was that the electric company’s CEO was not sure what to do about us. I later heard from Dennis’s attorney that that CEO ordered the hit on us. But if he did, he was likely just following orders.

After a couple of months of skyrocketing, I asked Dennis if I could be paid enough to rent a room in Ventura. I never had a clean roommate until then, and it was frustrating to not be able to use the kitchen, which was always a mess. That was how I met my wife, and it was another instance of my “friends” at work, as I immediately recognized her (and told her so), but I never met her in this life. Meeting her was the beginning of the end of my days with Dennis.

Around Christmas, I took a half-drunken Dennis home from the office late one night, and Dennis stopped, as I half carried him to my car, and looked at our two buildings. He said that the “Big Boys’” eyes had to be bugging out, seeing what we had going. I thought that if they did not stop us soon, they might not be able to. That was grimly prophetic. Also, around that time, another hydraulic heat engine came to us, and on New Year’s Day, 1988, I handed Victor Fischer his first check.

Dennis began going into orbit in the New Year, spoke at a fringe conference in LA, and brought down the house. A few days later, we had a gathering near our office, which several hundred people, mostly kit buyers, attended. But in the audience was Mr. Deputy, and my life’s worst year was about to begin.

How much of that is hard to believe?

Best,

Wade

[Bill Ryan]

Posted by Wade Frazier (here)
Dennis began going into orbit in the New Year, spoke at a fringe conference in LA, and brought down the house.

Wade, is any of that (or any of Dennis' other conference appearances) anywhere on video?

[Wade Frazier]

Hi Bill:

Not that I know of. One of the many ironies is that the man who filmed that conference came to our offices a few days later, looking for work, and he got the scoop of his lifetime as he filmed the raid. Dennis ended up hiring him. After Dennis was arrested and our company got shut down, that cameraman stole several thousand dollars of video equipment from us on his way out of town. He resurfaced a decade later, heckling one of Dennis’s associates who spoke in the San Francisco Bay area. When I heard that, nothing could surprise me any longer. Several years after that, he became Alden Bryant’s assistant during my New Energy Movement days. It sure could be a small world in that milieu.

There are a bunch of clips of Dennis on YouTube. I am not sure if any of them could be called conferences. I have not watched Dennis in action for many years.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

My direct ancestor with my family name migrated to Pennsylvania from Scotland in the 1730s. For the next 140+ years, my ancestors moved to where there was cheap land, immediately after the Indians had been dispossessed. They were supposedly pacifist Quakers, but I did not see any ancestral qualms about taking Indian land, except for my grandfather, late in his life.

Both of my grandfathers fought in the World Wars. One should not have survived World War I, and the other should not have survived World War II. My father was a soldier in Korea, my brothers were in the army, and all of my uncles, except maybe one, were in the military. My father worked his entire career for the federal government (all years in the navy, except for the year at NASA). I was raised with the terrible idea that I would not quite be a man until I had been a soldier, and I nearly became one myself. The navy was the biggest employer in Ventura County, where I was raised. One of my close relatives was a contract CIA agent who worked for Henry Kissinger, and who nearly tried to recruit me into the family “business.” My heritage for more than a century has been dominated by relatives who served the federal government, generally the military, in history’s greatest empire, which pretends that it is not one.

To one degree or another, all of them drank the nationalist Kool-Aid. I have written at length about my long, slow awakening process. The awakening never ends, but my most important awakening years began when I was 12 and ended on the witness stand 18 years later. I became a classic disillusioned idealist.

My former partner, Dennis Lee, deeply imbibed the nationalist Kool-Aid. He was in Special Forces in Vietnam and saw combat. But he still believed in American nationalism until his illusions went up in smoke in a bank lobby, when he saw how a starving family was treated. But Dennis soon helped the FBI bust the Mob in Alaska and survived two murder attempts for his trouble. He then escaped the Mob by moving to New Jersey, of all places. He survived multiple Mob murder attempts in his East Coast years in the 1970s. Even though Dennis no longer drank the nationalist Kool-Aid as deeply as he once did, he had many dalliances with the federal government and Washington, D.C., over the years.

In my previous post, I mentioned how the USA’s attorney general knew Dennis by name. So did Bill Clinton, when he was president. George Bush the Second’s energy advisor was a fan of Dennis’s, he tried to arrange an eve-of-the-election demonstration of Dennis’s technologies in Washington, D.C., and I declined the invitation. Having tea with Bush and Cheney was not on my to-do list. Soon after Dennis had Bush’s eyes bugging out over his high-MPG effort, the Federal Trade Commission attacked under Obama, and Dennis was banned from the American energy industry. Dennis testified in Congress regarding Carter’s energy tax credit, and Dennis was appointed by Congress to write performance requirements for future tax credits. I spoke at Department of Energy hearings with Dennis, regarding the nuclear waste issue. The man who ran those hearings admitted to us that nuclear waste management was a racket.

Weeks before Dennis was arrested with a million-dollar bail, he turned down a $1 billion offer, delivered by the CIA, on behalf of “European interests,” to cease our free-energy effort. When I tried to save Dennis’s life, Gary Wean went out of his way to help me, to my eternal gratitude, and his advice (nobody would help us) led to my strategy that busted Dennis out of jail, in the biggest miracle that ever witnessed.

One of Gary’s closest friends was Audie Murphy, and because of Audie, Gary attended a meeting with U.S. Senator John Tower in December 1963 about Lee Harvey Oswald’s involvement in the JFK assassination. Oswald was a military intelligence operative that E. Howard Hunt recruited into a CIA operation to stage a fake assassination attempt on JFK and frame Fidel Castro for it, to justify an invasion of Cuba. In Gary’s book that he published in 1987, he recounted the Tower conversation. A decade after Gary published his book, Operation Northwoods was declassified. Northwoods was the Pentagon plan to stage fake terror incidents in the USA and frame Castro for it, to justify an invasion of Cuba. Gary’s book and Northwoods even used some of the identical language. There is no reasonable doubt that Gary reported the Tower conversation to the best of his recollection. Today, the leading JFK-assassination hypotheses are essentially Gary’s reporting, minus the interposed operation. But virtually all of the leading names in the JFK-assassination milieu ignore and dismiss Gary’s reporting, on the flimsiest of pretexts, generally because they are protecting their own pet theories. For me, the primary upshot is that American presidents are puppets, and the rest is not as interesting or important.

Gary, being a policemen and investigator, tried to solve the crime (the crime will never be completely solved), as so many have fruitlessly done, and Gary originated the “Israel did it” hypothesis. While Israel may have been involved, I strongly doubt that Israelis were the masterminds. My money is on the MIC and Eastern Oligarchy, but who did it is not very important to me. The complicity of the American establishment, led by the CIA, in covering up JFK’s murder clearly shows how legitimate our system is. It is fraudulent and corrupt, from top to bottom. There is little real power vested in Washington, D.C.’s officials, as I eventually learned.

Another one of my colleagues, Brian O’Leary, also guzzled the nationalistic Kool-Aid and had a self-admitted “codependent” relationship with Washington, D.C. (“DC”), which began in his teenage years and lasted the rest of his life. Brian was hired as an astronaut by NASA, to go to Mars.

Several times, Brian lived through this series of events:

• Move to DC, full of fire to make a difference;
• Become gradually disillusioned;
• Flee DC.

After a few years of licking his wounds, he would be back for more. Brian advised several presidential candidates, and soon before he died, he informed me that electoral politics was a “dead end.” Brian would have known. Brian was a NASA gadfly for many years, which was partly why I had to run the gauntlet to get his NASA bio published. I also carried Brian’s spears as we approached the Department of Energy, which was another exercise in futility. As I wrote our proposal, I wondered what Brian thought we would accomplish.

When I began my days of study in 1990, radicalized by my journey, I read the memoir of CIA case officer Ralph McGehee and eventually became Ralph’s friend. Ralph joined the anticommunist crusade in 1952, all gung-ho. It took him 16 years and his career’s greatest achievement to finally realize that he was not one of the good guys, with the blood of children on his hands as he served the Empire. Similar to Dennis, Ralph nearly killed himself when he had his moment of realization. Instead of killing himself, he devoted his life to exposing the CIA’s real mission, and Ralph had hell to pay.

During my days of study, I learned of the fates of DC muckrakers Danny Casolaro and Paul Wilcher, who “committed suicide,” according to corrupt authorities, when they were really killed by spooks, like JFK almost certainly was.

I really could go on and on about my connections to DC and the federal government, but what inspired this post is Sam Husseini’s run for Congress in the shadow of DC. One of my lifetime’s blessings and honors is my friendship with Sam. Ed Herman introduced us in the last email that I ever got from Ed. Sam got a concussion from the State Department’s goons last year and was recently banned from the National Press Club for asking impertinent questions. Sam is on the campaign trail today, saying things that few American (or, as Sam would say, Usonian) candidates have ever said, such as arguing for dismantling corporate America and the American Empire. Is Sam risking his life? Probably little more than usual, as the behemoth generally shrugs off gadflies such as Sam.

My work is all about helping the biggest event in the human journey happen, and it took me many years to understand why very few people are fit for the task, especially politicians and other officials. If by some miracle, Sam becomes a member of Congress, I make take a little more interest in DC, but I do what I can to ignore DC, which is not easy these days, with its daily outrages.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

Just before Christmas, 1987, when Dennis told me that the eyes of the “Big Boys” had to be bugging out of their heads, seeing what we had going, the Better Business Bureau was sending inquiries about us to the Ventura County Sheriff’s Department and a man I call Mr. Deputy. When Dennis’s assistant, named Cab, heard that, he called Mr. Deputy. Cab had been a sheriff’s deputy himself, and he asked Mr. Deputy why the Better Business Bureau was forwarding inquiries about us to him. Mr. Deputy replied that it was just a routine investigation that he would soon end. That conversation, which Cab wrote an affidavit regarding, was the first of Mr. Deputy’s many lies and crimes that he committed during his career-making case. Like Bill Delp and Betsy, Mr. Deputy was just a hit man.

When we expanded into the adjacent building in the autumn of 1987, I moved my office there. I continually walked between the buildings. Around 10 AM on January 14^th, 1988, I was walking between our buildings when I saw and heard a great commotion of several racing cars. I stood there in our parking lot, watching the spectacle. The lead vehicle came to a screeching halt about 15 feet from me, almost in a cloud of dust. Mr. Deputy leapt out of the vehicle (a truck, as I seem to recall), approached me, and asked, in an almost confused manner, if the building behind me was where our business was located. When I replied yes, he handed me a search warrant. My life’s worst year began at that moment. I eventually learned that I was watching a bad acting job by Mr. Deputy. He knew full well that it was our building, as he had recently attended one of our Saturday shows there.

They rounded us all up and kicked us out of our building. Mr. Deputy said that he didn’t know that we occupied two buildings, so he left the premises to get the search warrant amended. I consider it likely that it was another acting performance to give him plausible deniability for what happened next: the ransacking and theft of our technical materials from Mr. Researcher’s office. The deputies did not realize that the mirrored windows of the machine shops allowed somebody to see into it from outside, when the brilliant flash of the camera lit up the machine shop from Mr. Researcher’s office, which had a door that opened to the machine shop. The raid was also an espionage exercise, but the ransacking of his office happened before the official search began. The flashing camera was photographing the blueprints in Mr. Researcher’s office that were too big to smuggle out in the box that Professor Wayne saw them take away (which he signed an affidavit for). Mr. Researcher was never the same after the raid, and he eventually testified to what he witnessed. When we learned what they had done the next morning, for the first time in my adult life, I harbored violent thoughts. The deputies had announced their criminality with their espionage exercise, and I strongly doubt that they stole those documents for their own perusal. Somebody wanted to see what we were doing. My guess is that those materials found their way into the hands of the global elite.

My office was cleaned out to the walls. All of my records were seized, which is like seizing a mechanic’s tools and then seeing if he can stay in business. I had to work 70-hour weeks to try to survive. Instead of walking between our buildings, I ran. Six weeks after the raid, I began going into a general physical collapse. It was the third stress event in my career, and I was only 29. My brother, who worked with us at the time, later said that I looked like a raccoon, with dark circles under my eyes. I had a brief respite in March, when Professor Wayne took me to Santa Cruz Island on a weekend. With the help of the paralegal group from Montana that I have previously discussed, who had their compound burned down and bulldozed, we filed lawsuits for our civil rights violations in the raid. Wayne, being a pillar of the community, knew everybody, and he knew somebody who socialized with sheriff’s deputies, and they eagerly gossiped about the cases. He asked about Dennis’s case, and nobody would say a word.

I was discovering the hard way that Ventura County had the deserved reputation as the most corrupt county in the USA. The deputies soon began to chase off all people who could testify to our technologies, starting with a test lab in Arizona that the deputies lied to and intimidated.

The deputies used our seized records to call all of our customers, trying to manufacture victims. Even the sheriff himself called our customers. As in Seattle and Boston, there were no complaining customers. After several months of their campaign of lies and intimidation, they rounded up nine “victims” to support what was coming.

In April, I asked Dennis for the summer off, to try to recover. The next month, Dennis got a call from bankers in Chicago, who asked him to come out. He met with a CIA man who offered Dennis $1 billion, on behalf of “European interests,” to cease his efforts. As with why we moved to California, I did not find out about the CIA’s offer until I read it in one of Dennis’s books. In his book, Dennis said that they would pay Dennis however much he wanted. When I heard Dennis tell it in 1996, he said that they would put a one on the check and Dennis would put on the zeros. It was not until 1998 that I realized that the $10 million offer that we got in 1987 was the standard friendly buyout offer. Several years after hearing that, I heard that the global elite had made 10,000 such payments, and I guess that the number has doubled since then. In 1996, I also heard about the “add two zeros” strategy. Steven Greer was dangled $2 billion in 1992, and I have heard of other such offers. Those are “offers that you cannot refuse,” as Brian O’Leary learned the hard way. This is how the global elite play ball. I estimated that global elite have paid $1 trillion to keep the lid on disruptive technologies, and Dennis replied, when I saw him last year, that it was “at least” $1 trillion.

A couple of weeks after Dennis turned down the CIA’s offer, the CIA man visited Dennis, which I suspect was a “kiss of death” meeting, as the CIA man likely arranged for Dennis’s subsequent treatment, by greasing palms in Ventura County. A couple of weeks later, Dennis was arrested with a $1 million bail, which was by far the highest bail in Ventura County.

How much of that is hard to believe? Criminal officials are not big news, especially in Ventura County. Maybe the CIA’s offer is hard to believe, but there have been others like it in that milieu, and it certainly makes sense. I was not very surprised when I read it.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

In my previous post, I mentioned Gary Wean’s book and the advice that he gave me, which led to my strategy to springing Dennis Lee from jail, which worked, in the greatest miracle that I ever witnessed.

The JFK assassination issue is a minor part of my work, but it is one of the most popular topics that my work deals with. Its only relevance is helping to understand that American presidents are puppets and politicians are not going to help with my effort. I have yet to find anybody on Earth who is willing and capable of productively discussing my essay from 2024, which is kind of an update of my 2014 essay. There are not many comprehensive thinkers on Earth today. I have been looking to do interviews, but I have yet to find anybody who can really do it with me. I recently contacted an academic who seemed to have promise, but he was only interested in the JFK hit, he blithely dismissed Gary’s testimony, and that was the end of that. That interaction inspired this series of posts.

I am going to do something that I never quite did before, at least in this level of detail in one place, and discuss Gary’s book and how it intersected with my life. When I read Gary’s book in January, 1989, it was a harrowing read. The criminals that ran Ventura County had Dennis in jail, and it looked like he would never live to see this side of the bars again. They certainly did it on behalf of the global elite. Gary was not shy in his book and named names. Dennis’s first attorney said that Gary’s book was a Who’s Who of Ventura County.

Early in the book, Gary named a colleague who took massive bribes to frame people on behalf of Ventura County’s oligarchy. One bribe was more than his annual salary. Gary was soon “offered” to get in on the action. It was an “offer that he could not refuse.” When Gary refused the offer, he was framed instead, which ended his career. That began the battles that Gary waged for the rest of his life. That bribe-taking colleague lived in my housing development and I went to school with his children. When I read Gary’s account, it became very clear to me why his children were among the best-dressed kids in school. My clothes while growing up came from K-Mart and the swap meet, but those kids wore high-end clothing from elite stores that my family never shopped in. No wonder they could afford to dress like that. In fact, they dressed like that soon after their father took that bribe. That was the first of many revelations as I read Gary’s book.

Once Gary was railroaded out of his career, he bought a gas station with an attached restaurant. Gary drafted his book between customers at that gas station, and his wife typed it up. As I read Gary’s book, Dennis’s wife, Alison, typed up Dennis’s first book, which he was writing in solitary confinement at the time. Dennis and Gary were slowed down long enough to write their books.

A Ventura County employee was dispatched to deny Gary the restaurant’s beer license that he applied for. It was part of a string of harassment events over Gary’s business, which culminated in the fire department’s breaking into his business and “finding” an extension cord “violation.” When I met with Gary, he told me that at the trial, when he saw that the entire jury was stacked with relatives of firemen, he knew that the fix was in.

I had already lived through Kangaroo Court, and nothing that Gary could say would surprise me about Ventura County’s legal system. Dennis spent two years behind bars for not filing a form. Gary got off kind of easy, and was “only” put on probation.

That Ventura County employee who tried to deny Gary his beer license also lived in our housing development, and I was close friends with his son. We took Professor Wayne’s class and studied together and kept in touch for 40 years. I can’t say that it was surprising to read that about his father, whom I played football with once.

Our next door neighbor when I grew up was the secretary for the man who became Ventura County’s longest-serving district attorney. He even published a book, with the foreword written by former California governor Pete Wilson.

While I was growing up, my father did not tell me a lot of what he knew about Ventura County. I don’t think that he knew that Ventura County was considered the most corrupt in the USA, but as an adult, and especially after the raid, he began telling me things. He had heard enough through our next door neighbor that he considered the district attorney to be a gangster. I learned that the hard way.

I grew up in a nearby bowling alley, where my mother worked. It was built by Ventura County’s biggest real estate developer, named Martin V. Smith, who was nicknamed Bud. I believe that it was before our company came to Ventura that my father told me that people who crossed Bud Smith simply disappeared, Mafia-style. One of the funny moments in Gary’s book was when he and his partner tailed two of Mickey Cohen’s hoods to a restaurant. They met with Smith, whom Gary recognized. Gary looked across the restaurant and recognized federal drug agents, and his partner met with them in the bathroom. The feds had tailed Smith to the meeting and didn’t know that he was meeting with Cohen’s men, but they were not surprised when they found out. They were going after Smith, who was involved in Ventura County‘s drug trade. But Smith was never caught red-handed. Gary said that the judges controlled Ventura County’s drug trade, and several years after that, a colleague who had been a narcotics investigator in the military told me that every county in the USA was like that, as everybody took their cut, from the CIA on downward (and the global elite are also involved).

Fifteen years later, I worked for a software company in the Seattle area. Seattle was a center of the dot.com boom and Seattle had a building boom. Smith’s company built skyscrapers in Seattle, and my colleague in the office next to mine had a husband who worked in construction and soon moved to Shanghai to build skyscrapers. I asked my colleague if she knew of Smith. She replied that he had a sterling reputation among developers as the most honest of developers. When I heard that, I laughed. Smith was also a “philanthropist.” I have seen too many rich “philanthropists” in my lifetime. As far as I have seen, they are all phonies, and hearing about honest Smith the philanthropist was no surprise. The kind of reputation is standard for gangsters and oligarchs.

One of Cohen’s protégés was Harry Pregerson. Gary investigated, and he thought that Cohen put Pregerson through law school. Pregerson became a federal judge, and there is a freeway interchange named for him today. In Gary’s book, Pregerson was one of Gary’s bête noires. Pregerson’s judicial irregularities were constant and he drove Gary from his LAPD job, which Gary discussed here. In 2015, when I wrote about Gary and the JFK hit, I mentioned the corrupt federal judge that harried Gary without naming him. The original Watergate attorney contacted me and correctly guessed that I was writing about Pregerson, as he had witnessed one of Pregerson’s judicial irregularities in the 1970s. Like Smith, Pregerson cultivated a big-hearted persona – the standard gangster cover.

When I met Gary, he said that the only reason why he was alive was that he never broke the law, no matter how innocuous. Otherwise, the gangster officials in Ventura County would have had an excuse to murder him. Gary survived at least one murder attempt because one of his lawsuits hampered their plan to defraud the taxpayers of millions of dollars in building the County Center. Another funny story in Gary’s book is how Cohen rigged horse races.

How much of that is hard to believe?

More validation of Gary’s reporting is coming.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

When I met with Gary Wean in January, 1989, he told me about how his courtroom testimony was erased by court reporters. He watched the reporter erase it once. Gary told me that he smuggled a tape recorder onto the witness stand, into his jacket, to catch the court erasing his testimony. A few years later, I got Rodney Stich’s books, and I read of California’s courts doing Ventura County’s courts one better: the courts would alter the transcripts to state the opposite of what the witness said.

Gary told me that he would file lawsuits and motions, the clerks would just put his filings in the shredder, and then the court would say that the documents were “lost.” Entire lawsuits would be “lost” in that way, but Gary would have the receipt that he filed it. When Dennis Lee was in jail and filed more than 100 motions, I saw the judge say that one of his key motions was “lost.” They had busy shredders at the courthouse.

Gary had inside information on famous cases, such as the DeLorean case. John DeLorean was arrested with a murderous agent of Ventura County’s judges, and they “disappeared” their agent so that he never was part of the trial.

In the late 1990s, when I was building my site, essay by essay, a retired Ventura policeman began corresponding with me and visited my home. After reading my cover-up essay, which I published in 2001, he decided to read Gary’s book. He had previously told me anecdotes of his days as a Ventura cop. One Sunday morning, he found Dennis’s first attorney in a drunken stupor on a downtown Ventura doorstep. He gently shepherded Dennis’s attorney to his home instead of arresting him.

When he began reading it, he emailed me his impressions. I warned him that Gary went off on Jews near the end of the book. One day, he emailed me his amazement that one outrageous incident in the book that happened outside of a courtroom he witnessed himself.

I have seen Gary’s testimony dismissed many times. I consider all of those dismissers to be either naïve, irrational, dishonest, or some combination thereof. Gary risked his life to publish his book, as Ventura’s County’s oligarchy previously tried to murder him at least once. Making anything up would be all the excuse that they needed to finish the job. Gary constantly waged lawsuits to get the evidence on the record. Gary had to become his own attorney, as any attorney who represented him was soon threatened with disbarment. Dennis’s big-time attorney, that my money hired, had a similar experience. After Ventura County’s officials tried to prevent his license in California from being issued, he was threatened with disbarment for filing a lawsuit against those corrupt officials, in the court that Harry Pregerson dominated, which was considered the USA’s most corrupt federal court.

Whatever Gary said that he witnessed had total credibility with me, for the reasons that I list in these posts. We had our lives ruined by the same people.

Now, I’ll come to the subjects that Gary is most famous for today: his involvement in the aftermath of JFK’s assassination and his knowledge about Marilyn Monroe’s death. I wrote a post about it last month, regarding what Jackie Kennedy thought. Jackie was likely right, in my opinion.

I need to start at the beginning. In 1946, when Gary worked at the Hollywood Park racetrack, he first saw Jack Ruby, in Mickey Cohen’s company (and Cohen rigged the horse races). Gary had a conversation with Ruby the next year, and he saw Ruby with Cohen one more time. Ruby was not the small-time nightclub owner that the Warren Commission depicted him as, but he was a high-ranking mobster.

One of Cohen’s specialties was blackmailing Hollywood celebrities. Cohen introduced one of his underlings, Johnny Stompanato, the original Italian Stallion, to Lana Turner. Cohen rented a Malibu cottage for the lovers, had the bed wired for sound, and made a record of their lovemaking session, which became a hit at Hollywood parties. When Turner’s daughter killed Stompanato, that record became a “must have” item, and Cohen sold thousands more of them.

Gary often had Cohen under surveillance, and in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Menachem Begin was a regular visitor to Cohen. Gary said that they would tour LA’s Jewish community, shaking down people for “contributions” to Israel. The Democratic Party nominated JFK for the presidency in LA in the summer of 1960. During the convention, JFK flew by helicopter to attend a pool party at Peter Lawford’s Malibu home, where JFK met Marilyn Monroe. Gary asserted that it was the first time that JFK met Monroe. According to Gary, Monroe was being used by Cohen and Begin in an intelligence-gathering and blackmail scheme against JFK. Monroe was the perfect bait for it. After sex, Monroe was supposed to ask about JFK’s intentions for Israel, and Cohen tried to get a recording of JFK and Monroe having sex, to blackmail JFK. Gary saw the infamous private investigator, Fred Otash, try to tap Lawford’s phone. Back in 2014, a movie that Otash allegedly recorded, of a threesome between Monroe, JFK, and RFK, made the news, as it was about to be auctioned off before an anonymous buyer swooped in, bought it, and it then disappeared, likely forever.

When Gary had Cohen under surveillance, he caught Cohen and Begin (speaking in Yiddish) complaining about how JFK “wasted” money on the Peace Corps and the like. He then tailed them to a meeting at Melvin Belli’s home, which Cap Weinberger also attended. Belli was Ruby’s attorney after he shot Oswald. Belli defended Ruby for free, but after Dennis escaped jail and sought a high-profile attorney, Belli wanted $250K up front.

During JFK’s presidency, Gary was an investigator for LA’s district attorney. Gary had Monroe’s home staked out on the night that she died. Gary said that the only car that arrived at Monroe’s home that day was that of her handler, who worked for Cohen. Gary was certain that Monroe was murdered because she knew too much and was beginning to talk.

But the event that led to Gary’s lasting fame was his involvement in the aftermath of the JFK assassination. Gary was close friends with Audie Murphy, the USA’s most decorated soldier, and Gary had moonlighted as Murphy’s bodyguard.

Murphy grew up near Dallas and was friends with Bill Decker, who was the sheriff of Dallas County. Decker helped end Bonnie and Clyde’s crime spree, and Lee Harvey Oswald was killed by Ruby as he was being transferred to Decker’s custody. Two weeks after JFK was killed, Decker came to LA on business, and their ritual was for Gary, Audie, and Decker to have lunch at the LAPD’s police academy. Gary’s investigative partner also attended that lunch.

Gary wrote that their conversation that day was what arms experts across the USA were discussing: there was no way that Oswald could have made the shots that killed JFK. After their unanimous conclusion, Decker replied that he had a man in Dallas who also knew that Oswald did not kill JFK, and he wanted to talk to somebody not associated with the feds. Decker asked Murphy if he would be willing to talk to the man, and the next week, Murphy, Gary, and Gary’s partner flew in Murphy’s plane to Ruidoso, New Mexico, to meet Decker’s source.

They met at a café in town and Decker’s source told the story. He said that Oswald was in military intelligence, and his communist activities comprised a standard career path, to give him fake communist credentials so that he could infiltrate communist organizations. When Oswald arrived back from his “defection” to the Soviet Union, he was soon recruited by E. Howard Hunt into a CIA operation that he designed: stage a fake assassination attempt on JFK and frame Fidel Castro for it, to justify an invasion of Cuba. Hunt also ran the Bay of Pigs and Watergate operations. Oswald was leery of Hunt’s plan, until Hunt introduced Oswald to high-ranking members of JFK’s administration who were in on it. JFK was not told about it.

All was in readiness, and then JFK got killed. Somebody had turned a fake assassination attempt into a real one. At the end of the conversation, the source gave Gary a sealed envelope that contained documents that proved his story. They flew back to LA, knowing that it was too big for them to get involved with. Soon after arriving home, Decker called Murphy and said that those documents had been given in a moment of panic. The CIA, FBI, and military intelligence decided to cover up the fake plan at all costs, lest they face the firing squad. Decker thought fast and said that they destroyed the documents on the way back to LA.

After Gary was railroaded out of his career in 1970 and after Murphy died in a plane crash in 1971, Gary began telling people about what he knew about the JFK hit, but he did not publicize it until he published his book in 1987. In that edition, he hid his source’s name, but in his 1996 edition, he revealed that his source as John Tower, the Senator from Texas, after Tower “coincidentally” died in a plane crash in 1991, before he could testify to what he knew. I don’t know what Gary’s evidence was, but he alleged the Prescott Bush, Arlen Specter, and William Cohen were part of the real plot to kill JFK. In one of the many “coincidences” of Gary’s reporting, Tower was nominated by George Bush the First to be secretary of defense, and Weinberg and William Cohen became secretaries of defense.

When Gary published his book in 1987, he went to Washington, D.C. Among other things, he delivered a copy of his book to every U.S. senator and he got Tower to agree to testify in Congress about what he knew about the JFK hit. Gary said that Tower knew who really killed JFK, and Gary said that he had the evidence of it. But all that we know for sure is what is in his book, which does not allege that Tower knew who killed JFK, but only that Oswald did not do it. In his book Gary alleged that Jewish organized crime was ultimately behind JFK’s murder. Gary also alleged that the FBI also had the information about his meeting with Tower.

In 1997, the year after Gary revealed Tower’s identity, Operation Northwoods was declassified. Here is the chapter of Gary’s 1987 book, and here is the Northwoods document. JFK initially rejected the Northwoods plan, but it was surreptitiously revived by the Joint Chiefs of Staff when Hunt recruited Oswald into his operation.

Gary’s chapter and the Northwoods document even had some of the identical language, such as fabricating a “Remember the Maine” incident to justify an invasion of Cuba. The only difference is that Hunt’s plan was a fake assassination attempt and Northwoods was fake terror incidents. For any rational person, comparing Gary’s chapter to the Northwoods document should put to rest any reasonable doubt about Gary’s reporting.

Here is where I come to the nub of the issue with Gary and those who dismiss his testimony. For the reasons that I cite in this series on Gary, when he said that he witnessed something, I had no doubt about it. When he tried to piece evidence together, he was like the rest of us, and there are other interpretations of the evidence.

Gary’s testimony of his Ruby and Tower encounters are evidence, not theory. But I have seen many people dismiss Gary’s testimony because they disagreed with his beliefs and theories, which is an irrational position to take.

What is coming is what I did and what anybody should do if their pursuit is the truth.

Much of that is unbelievable?

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

From Substack:

The video of this post is here.

In my previous post, I began to discuss Gary Wean’s relationship to the deaths of JFK and Marilyn Monroe. Reading Gary’s book is what really began my days of study. My plan to save Dennis Lee’s life arose from Gary’s advice, and I began descending into the bowels of libraries to hunt for information to defend Dennis with, beginning with my mentor’s earthshaking inventions. I obtained copies of patents. I visited libraries at UCLA and UC Santa Barbara, hunting through periodicals and the Congressional Record. I was doing it to brief any expert witnesses that my legal fund might arrange to testify at Dennis’s trial. I eventually met with the rocket scientist who was the greatest champion of my mentor’s engine. But six weeks after I mortgaged my life, Dennis walked out of jail, in the biggest miracle that I ever witnessed. When Dennis escaped jail, I knew that my heroics were no longer needed. I knew that Dennis would be OK, as he is the most resourceful person that I ever met. Dennis still nearly died, thanks to the awesomely corrupt officials in California. But he was also saved by unwitting officials, when Dennis's wife, Alison, alerted them. I discussed those events more when I visited Dennis last year.

When I moved to Ohio in September, 1990, to put my wife through graduate school, I began my days of study in earnest. I was embarking on a comprehensive curriculum, and the JFK assassination was soon among the topics that I studied. I took a rather unique approach to the JFK hit. I knew that Gary had reported the John Tower conversation to the best of his recollection.

Over the next 12 years, my JFK-assassination studies were largely about comparing the best evidence that I could find on the JFK hit to Gary’s testimony (including his encounters with Jack Ruby). On the JFK assassination alone, I have dozens of books. But I also studied the CIA, Allen Dulles, and many related topics. And they often related to events in my life. As an example, when I read a biography of Dulles, I read an anecdote about when Dulles was asked at a social gathering about how he would treat double agents, and Dulles proudly exclaimed that he would have them killed. I read that in the past decade. When I read that, it took me back to my CIA contract agent relative. He had a suspected double agent on his team, and his orders were to kill the man. He later told his spouse that he didn’t really want to kill his team member, but orders were orders. I do not know how many people my relative killed, but it surely was a big reason why he drank himself into an early grave.

Dulles was right in the middle of Oswald’s situation. Dulles led the Warren Commission and ensured that it would cover up all of Oswald’s intelligence connections, especially to the CIA. Dulles despised JFK, who fired him as head of the CIA after the Bay of Pigs disaster. That was a staggering conflict of interest, but the entire “investigation” was riddled with such conflicts. Gary did not reveal Tower’s name until the 1996 edition of his book, and it was only after that that Gary began to publicly name more names. I was six years into my JFK studies by then.

Oliver Stone’s film JFK revived interest in the JFK hit and led to an avalanche of new books. I read many of them. I never saw one piece of credible evidence contradict Gary’s account of the Tower conversation, and as I saw new evidence come to light, it always further vindicated Gary’s reporting. I saw something like that pretty much every year since 1990.

In 1997, the Operation Northwoods document was declassified. It was declassified as part of a JFK declassification effort that JFK inspired, so give some credit to Oliver Stone. The Northwoods plan to frame Castro was almost identical to E. Howard Hunt’s plan to frame Castro.

Gary wrote about Northwoods soon after it was declassified, but I didn’t know about Northwoods until after I first published my cover-up essay in 2001. I read about Northwoods in James Bamford’s Body of Secrets. After Northwoods was declassified, Gary’s reporting of the Tower conversation should have become the center of gravity for all JFK-assassination-related research and books, but it is largely ignored to this day. I don’t know of anything related to the JFK hit that has aged as well as Gary’s reporting of the Tower conversation has.

Trump declassified more JFK documents last year, and today, the leading theories on the JFK hit revolve around the CIA, Cuba, E Howard Hunt, and Oswald. It is essentially Gary’s reporting of the Tower conversation, sans the interposed operation (although some are discussing that, too), and Gary’s reporting is still ignored. I have even seen the JFK-assassination talking heads discuss Northwoods, and they still ignore Gary’s reporting. It brings up those twin issues of personal integrity being the world’s scarcest commodity and the question of whether humanity is a sentient species. It is another example of how we often do the dirty work of the elites, gratis.

I did what any credible assessment of Gary’s testimony should have done. I had the advantage of knowing Gary, our lives were ruined by the same people, and the main subject of his book was the county where I grew up. But I did my homework for 12 years before I went public with my take on the JFK hit, which created a bit of a splash among the JFK-assassination-researcher community.

To this day, Gary’s testimony is the most powerful evidence that I know of that demonstrates that Oswald did not kill JFK, particularly in light of the Northwoods document. As I have written plenty, we can stop right there. The primary upshot of that revelation is that the Warren Commission was a coverup and all American presidents since JFK have been puppets. The rest is of minor importance. Trump said that he thought that Oswald did it, and if Trump really believes that, he is likely the only president who did.

Best,

Wade