WADE FRAZIER : A Healed Planet

[Nine]

Wade,

the pace you keep..

Mum is turning 100 in a couple of weeks and my septic backed up and ...bla bla bla..


your links are where the action is...

My apologies for being behind yet again dear professor...

the dog ate my essay...

Nine

[Wade Frazier]

Hi Nine:

I'll tell you this….

For a self-proclaimed "retard," you understand a lot, which gives me hope that more will awaken to what I am doing. Yes, a central part of my message is that the energy event was the event that initiated and sustained humanity's next epochal phase. Without the new energy source, the rest could not happen. The changes that FE can bring about will not happen without FE. I showed how bonobos were only able to radically change their social organization when their food supply doubled. First came the energy, then came the social change. Heck the first Epochal Events (getting that energy to power the growing human-line's brain) led to the appearance of humanity. Without that energy event, there would not even be people. Slavery did not end until the Industrial Revolution made the institution economically obsolete. The energy-powered machines of the Industrial Revolution led to the liberation of women and slaves, and nothing else did or could.

When people begin to understand how the world really works, from the energy end, from the technical end, from the political-economic end, from the social end, the approach that I am taking should become pretty clear, as far as its promise and alignment with how the world really works. Although I could be charged with trying to create another social movement, I really am not. I am trying to help form a nugget of awareness that can anchor a technical effort to make FE happen. But that nugget might be able to catalyze a lot more. The technical effort was accomplished long ago, and that nugget might be able to catalyze it coming forward, but I am not counting on it, either. The choir that I am trying to form has never been heard on Earth before, and who knows what it might shake loose through harmonic effects. But I can’t water it down to appeal to people's delusions. I have a ruthless desire for the truth, and nothing less will help that choir form in a way that will help.

I have seen the social movement approach many times. Heck, I was a key member of several efforts, and realized that they don't work. They did not attract people with the right stuff. The people with the right stuff virtually do not exist on Earth, but I don’t need many of them. Heck, all of the Epochal Events of the human journey were initiated by a relative or literal handful of people (or protohumans ). If I can find and train a thousand like Ilie, or 5,000-7,000 less talented singers, FE will be a done deal. Godzilla won't be able to stop it, and the "White Hat" faction I am sure is hoping that I succeed. Believe me, they are watching, and from the shadows, as usual. I am one of the few fools who will go onto center-stage like I am. Somebody has to do it, but I am not looking for heroes.

Back to work.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

On to the Ventura experience. I could easily write for a month on all I learned between 1987 and 1990 in Ventura, but I will try to make it brief.

When I drove the truck into Ventura from Boston in late June 1987, I really had no idea why we were moving there. I suspected that it was because Mr. Professor was funding us, and he became the hero of Ventura, at the cost of his life, which devastated me, but he was not why we moved there. Dennis and Mr. Mentor kept their side-deal secret from me, and I only found out about when I read it in one of Dennis's books years later. Similarly, I never heard of the $1 billion offer that Dennis received until I heard him speaking publicly about it in 1996, and then reading about it in The Alternative. All of those games of secrecy and cloak-and-dagger stuff really turned me off, and is partly why I am not with Dennis anymore. It is not that I did not understand and even sympathize with the secrecy games that Dennis played, but I decided that any effort that had to rely on tactics like that was doomed. I have always been a "what you see is what you get" kind of person, and a totally transparent effort is what I am striving for. That is partly why I will not be having any anonymous members of what I am doing. For one thing, thinking that people can hide from Godzilla is extremely foolish, and the "sneak past Godzilla" approach is the height of naïveté. Anybody who publicly interacts with me in any forum is on Godzilla's radar, no matter if they think that they are cleverly hiding their identities. There is no hiding from Godzilla. The only approach that I respect and I think has a chance will happen in the light of day, in full view of the world. Again, 99.9% of humanity will not begin to wake up until FE is delivered into their lives, and I do not seek to engage them until FE can be delivered. Only when it is delivered into their lives will they begin to awaken from the nightmare of scarcity, which presently dominates their minds and spirits. I seek people do not need FE delivered into their lives before they wake up, and I know they will be few and far between, but those are the people I seek.

I think that I will spread the Ventura experience over a post or three. It takes a lot out of me to even recall those days. When I get done with the Ventura experience, there will be others, such as what I learned by hitting the books, what I learned when Dennis finally coaxed me back in the saddle with him for a short time, and what I learned from carrying Brian's spears. I am a learning junkie, and those experiences gave me plenty of opportunities to feed my addiction. What I hope comes across very clearly is that my current approach is not something that I just dreamed up one day, but came from a lifetime of experience and study, from life-risking and life-wrecking trial and error. Dennis and Brian were the best of the best, but a couple of heroes cannot make a dent, even if Dennis makes Indiana Jones look like Walter Mitty.

I have heavily documented the Ventura experience here and do not need to belabor the facts. We received, as one relative later told me, "both barrels." Among the lessons that finally came home in Ventura were these:

• The inventor/businessman's approach to FE likely does not have a prayer;
• Godzilla is alive, well, and vigilant, but fractured; we heard from both the Black Hats and White Hats;
• Godzilla plays a very sophisticated and subtle game; the lower-level predators, even if they are directly doing Godzilla's bidding, as they were in Ventura, are far cruder in their methods; when Godzilla messes with you, you rarely even realize that you have been messed with;
• We really are our own worst enemies, and I got tired of seeing all the attempts by our associates to steal our businesses; they generally were only successful when Godzilla had Dennis in a headlock, and the successful thieves were egged on by Godzilla's minions, in what I call an inside-outside job. I saw it happen in Seattle and Ventura;
• The media can simply make it up as it goes, and they effortlessly dupe about 99.9% of the public, even my mother; the system is wholly evil and serves elite interests, not the interest of the masses;
• Personal integrity is the world's scarcest commodity – it was the most important lesson of my journey, but nobody wants to hear it;
• Inventors have no more personal integrity than the masses, and that is not saying much; every inventor that worked with Dennis ultimately betrayed him;
• Dennis was hurt far more by his allies than by Godzilla's minions, which he finally admitted to me in 2013; I saw the same thing happen with Brian; the enemy truly is us;
• Doing business with your family and friends is a good way to get your life wrecked, especially for playing the FE game; it was not all bad, not by any means, as I found some gold nuggets, and they are the most precious people in my life, but they are rare;
• The technical project of making FE happen is really not that hard, technically, and was accomplished long ago, but you need industrial level facilities to do it, and that is part of the conundrum; people like Sparky could invent something in his home, but it was a far cry from being ready for public consumption, and he had plenty of help and already was a career scientist; lone inventors and people tinkering in their garages do not have a prayer, and almost none of them have the proper motivation, but are trying to get rich and famous, become the Messiah, etc.; the garage inventor guerilla movement is an adolescent fantasy;
• Today's humanity is a heap of mine tailings, but there are some golden nuggets to be found, but you have to be insanely persistent;
• Godzilla knows the game he is playing, by keeping FE from public awareness and use; he knows that it would end his game, hence his awesome bag of tricks to keep the lid on it, but many lower-level predators play the same game, as they protect their racketeering turf; it is the same game that has been played since the beginning of civilization.

It is time to go to work, and I may add more to that list, and I will make a post or two on what was going through my head as I learned those lessons. That is not something that I like doing, but I will get it done over the next few days.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

OK, on to Ventura and anecdotes of learning. When I hit Ventura in June 1987, Dennis made his last visit to his dying father and said his goodbyes. His father died about age 60 of rheumatoid arthritis, and Dennis also had it and was crippled by VA negligence. Dennis's father died a few weeks later, and Dennis was too busy trying to resurrect the business once again to go to the funeral. Dennis says his goodbyes and moves on. I greatly respect that. Dennis knows that he will meet his father on the other side.

We used Mr. Professor's office when we got there. In Seattle, I began to hear tales of the milieu, on the FE front (Joe Newman), and different perspective on inventors than I had when I left home. I was slowly getting sobered up. In Boston, I began living the stories, and people approached us in Boston with their tales of trying to make alternative energy happen. In Ventura, the stories became an onslaught. One night, when Dennis and I were working late in Mr. Professor's office, it seems that Dennis heard of the fate of that company that stole Mr. Mentor's engine.

Mr. Professor and I were the only investors that Dennis ever had who said, "Here is the money, go do it!" He did not disappoint us with his effort. It was truly mind-boggling to witness. I moved in with my father when I got to Ventura, but they kicked me out a month later, just as Dennis was settling his family into Ventura, and I went to live with Dennis and his family again. I lived with him about a year in total, and Dennis's wife and children ended up living with Mr. Professor and his wife for nearly two years. My wife and I lived with them after we married and before we moved to Ohio. Mr. Professor even took in some of Dennis's inmates who had also been kangarooed into jail. It is a specialty in Ventura. One was a 75-year-old man, and when he was released, he smuggled out a few more chapters of Dennis's book My Quest. But I get ahead of myself.

A few weeks after I moved back in with Dennis and his family, Dennis got deathly ill. While he lay on the floor in agony, I did my hands-on healing, and he immediately got well, and when he went to a doctor and had tests done, they said that he had the shortest case of hepatitis that they ever saw. We had stuff like that happen all the time, and we just dealt with it and kept going. We put on another Greatest Energy Show, that time in LA. Dennis was training salesmen, and he began running ads in USA Today, modestly titled, "free electricity!" It was a pitch to sell informational kits on how to build, install, and sell the heat pump, while also making the pitch that we were pursuing FE. Dennis was just recovering from his illness when checks began pouring in from all over the USA. Dennis told his wife and me that he found the next rocket ship, but neither she nor I could tell. All I had seen so far was bloody ruin. The master knew, however. It did take off like a rocket. The next month, Mr. Mentor finally came aboard (Mr. Engineer assuaged Mr. Mentor's fears of being screwed over by Dennis, and one of the complaints that I heard from Mr. Mentor years later was that Dennis treated inventors too good, of all things). The inventors did not deserve the faith that Dennis put in them. They were all trying to get rich and famous, and did not have the right stuff. All these years later, Mr. Mentor is still the closest thing that I saw to an inventor having the right stuff, but Mr. Mentor did not, either. I learned many harsh lessons in Ventura. But in the late summer of 1987, it took off like a rocket, just like Dennis said, and we went from a few volunteers to about 40 employees in a few months. We were so buried in orders that it took us a month to fill them. We rented a second building, next to our main one.

By October, we were doing well enough that I asked Dennis if I could get paid some kind of salary so that I could rent a room somewhere in town. I had lived off $50 per week for the previous year, just buying food and gasoline. I got a room a couple of blocks from: the college, my first two jobs, and my first girlfriend. My landlord became my wife, and it was another one of those preposterous events in my life where my "friends" were orchestrating events. I was working 12-14 hour days to try to hold onto the rocket. For a brief time, we became a national focal point, and people came from all over the world to our offices. I recall a Japanese official visiting our offices. I really could go on for days about those times, but we were also regularly approached by people telling tales of woe, of getting wiped out by what I now know were likely Godzilla's minions or perhaps lower-level predators.

By December, we were flying very high, and one night, around midnight, as I was taking Dennis home, he stood in our parking lot, looking at our buildings, and he said that Godzilla's eyes (Dennis called them "The Big Boys," Greer called them "Godzilla," and I coined Global Controllers) had to be bugging out, seeing what we had going. I thought that if they did not stop us soon, that they might not be able to. It was prophetic, in a horrific way.

In December, Mr. Researcher told Dennis that somebody had developed a hydraulic heat engine like Mr. Mentor's, and on New Years' Day, 1988, I cut the first check to Victor Fischer, and we immediately began building a prototype of his engine. His previous prototypes were a big as a car, but we began building one for powering a home.

People were arriving at our offices, handing us checks. One was an attorney from Virginia, and he knew the USA's attorney general. The attorney general not only knew Dennis by name, but he said that the Justice Department had thoroughly investigated Dennis and found him to be "squeaky clean," and that attorney emphasized "squeaky clean" as he handed Dennis a check for $10,000. Every president since Reagan knew Dennis by name.

That same month of December, Dennis's new assistant heard that the Better Business Bureau was forwarding inquiries about us to the Ventura County Sheriff's department, to a Mr. Deputy. Dennis's assistant was a former sheriff's deputy himself, and he called Mr. Deputy and asked him why calls about our company were being forward to him. He further asked if we were doing anything illegal. Mr. Deputy committed the first of many crimes against us that day, when he told Dennis's assistant that all was well and that he was only getting some paperwork done on us. He was legally obligated to tell us if we were breaking any laws.

In early January, Dennis spoke at a FE conference in Southern California and brought down the house. A couple of days later, we held our own show a few miles from our offices. Several hundred people attended, and Dennis announced that we were going hard after FE, and we were. Mr. Deputy was in the audience, and the next day he was readying his search warrant. The next morning, as I was walking between our buildings (my office was in the new building, and Dennis's was in the old one, so I was constantly traveling between the buildings), when I saw about ten vehicles pull into our facilities in a cloud of dust, and Mr. Deputy jumped out of the lead vehicle and asked me if the building behind me was for CONSERVE Financial Services (our company name), and the raid was on. I now know that I was watching a bad acting job by Mr. Deputy. He had attended a show in that building (Dennis's Saturday Morning Show, which we held for months), so he knew very well that it was our building. I also know that he feigned not knowing about our second building, so he left the premises for the courthouse to get the warrant amended. While he was away, the deputies ransacked our facilities, stole all the technical materials from Mr. Researcher's office, and photographed our prototype blueprints. Mr. Researcher saw them in the act, and eventually testified in court to it. It was one of many crimes committed against us that day.

When Dennis had his company stolen in Seattle, I saw Mr. Financier for the only time. He was in his 70s, and he had his company, which he had spent a lifetime building, stolen from him a couple of weeks before Dennis's company was stolen, and the theft of his company allowed for the theft of Dennis's. He looked stricken. The day after the raid, when we were finally allowed back into our offices and the extent of the crimes of the sheriff's deputies became known to us, Mr. Researcher had that same stricken look. Not only were his private notes stolen, but documentation for inventions entrusted to him were also stolen. He was white in the face for weeks afterward. I thought that he was going to keel over, and he soon quit, not being able to handle how he had been raped by the sheriff's deputies.

The raid began the worst year of my life, by far. The lessons began coming fast and furiously. I need to sleep, and more on this tomorrow. It sure is not fun to remember those days, but I am planning to break some fresh ground here.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

As I have stated, it would takes months of writing to relay all the lessons that I learned from my Ventura days, and one way to give abbreviated versions of the lessons will be little vignettes about various players. After the raid, as I realized how raped we were, and probably mostly by Mr. Researcher's stricken state, I wanted to get some sheriff's deputies alone in a room with a baseball bat. That I could even have thoughts like that was shocking. Mr. Deputy is an accomplished dark pather, getting his start at the FBI, and he retired a few years ago to a hero's farewell. Taking our company down was the crowning moment of his career, although we were not as easily taken down as they had hoped, and my efforts caused Mr. Deputy to hide in his home for months to dodge the witness stand. Everybody who participated, from the deputies to the prosecutor to the judge, received promotions from the deal. Who knows how much under-the-table money Mr. Deputy got, but he got a meteoric promotion a few weeks after arresting Dennis with that million dollar bail, was placed in charge of the jail to see to the comfort of his career catch, and was given an award for completing the most difficult investigation in department history. His annual pension today is about $250,000 per year. That is one reason why states such as California are effectively bankrupt. Evil-minded people are highly successful in evil systems, and California is about as dark as it gets.

During the raid, they allowed us to supervise the search (after they already got what they came for), and I was the first supervisor, and Mr. Deputy turned on the charm with me. He asked me if I knew that Dennis admitted to deceiving people in Seattle. I knew it was a lie and told him so, and he abandoned trying to convince me that my partner was a criminal. But he took a good run at me. He had the overgrown Boy Scout act down pat, looking and acting just like me, a Dudley Do-right type. He kept wearing that mask until I was on the witness stand, but I get ahead of myself. During the raid, I showed them where the records in my office were. I was relieved from my supervisory duties by Mr. Stooge around that time, and the next morning I found that my office had been cleaned out to the walls. There was not a scrap of paper left in my office. Try running a business with all of your records seized. During the raid, when Mr. Deputy was all cordial, he said that we could have copies of the records they seized, but it was one of many lies that they told us, as they refused to provide us copies. Mr. Deputy was semi-apologetic when I called him, asking for copies of our seized records, but he said that their photocopier was broken and he was very disappointed that thousands of calls of protest were being made to the sheriff's department over their raid. I received no copies.

During the search, I asked Mr. Deputy what we had done that merited an armed raid of our facilities, and he said that we may have violated an obscure franchise law that nobody had ever heard of, called the Seller's Assisted Marketing Plan Act. It turned out that I had heard about it, although in another state (some Midwestern state such as Iowa or Wisconsin). In that other state, if we had met about ten criteria, we would have qualified, and there were some registration requirements. We only met about two of the criteria, so I promptly forgot about the law until I heard from Mr. Deputy that he thought that we had broken California's version of the law. I told him that I was aware of the law and did not think that we qualified for it, and he gave me a little a grin and said that it was a matter for lawyers and judges, not us. I then repeated the "squeaky clean" statement by the highest law enforcement official in the USA a month earlier, and Mr. Deputy gave me a little smile and said that he would not believe anything that the attorney general said.

All in all, it was an understated performance, with Mr. Deputy putting on an "I am just doing my job" air. It was a good act. I had already seen enough in my days in Seattle and Boston, so I did not buy his act at face value, and the next morning, when we found out what those deputies had done in Mr. Researcher's office, I realized the true nature of their "law enforcement" efforts. But Mr. Deputy was not on the premises for the theft, so was able to play the plausible deniability game, and he played it well. He played that game with me all the way until I was on the witness stand later that year, when he took off his mask for me. When psychopaths finally take off their masks for you, usually as they are sinking their daggers into your chest, grinning all the while, those can be powerful moments of awakening. Mr. Deputy's performance in the courtroom, making faces at me as I was testifying, was the turning point of my life. He was not just "doing his job," as he had portrayed himself that year. He truly enjoyed inflicting evil onto others, and one day, probably after we have both passed on, I will have to thank him for waking me up to the nature of evil. It was a disillusioning decade and more in coming, but that voice in my head brought me to that moment on the witness stand, when I finally saw the true nature of the world that I lived in. I never saw the world that same way again, and for the better, so I guess I have to thank that voice for all of that "tough love." All of my public work since 1996 was inspired by the events of 1988.

Mr. Deputy's performance was the most impactful and memorable, but many people got their turn on stage, and they were nearly all shameful performances. Mr. Professor was a beacon in the darkness, and he was the real hero of Ventura, but it cost him his life, which devastated me. Over the next few days, I will give some vignettes of how people acted in those days, but in the end, the point of these posts is what I learned, and it was far more than how dishonorably, cowardly, and criminally people could act. Godzilla also revealed himself to Dennis, offering him $1 billion to fold the operation, before the sledgehammer really came down on us. When it comes to world domination and eliminating all threats before they become clear and present dangers, Godzilla's pockets are endlessly deep.

Many years later, I realized that the threat that we represented was not so much Dennis's heat pump and Fischer's and Mr. Mentor's hydraulic heat engines and the possibility of doing FE with them, but we presented a much more involved threat. I had brought together the talent and integrity to form a pretty tough little nucleus, and just down the road, Sparky Sweet was watching events play out. The real threat that we presented was attracting people like Sparky to our operation. Then it was going to be game over for Godzilla, and he knew it. We also heard from the White Hats in those days, and the eventually gave one of my close associates a little peek into Godzilla's Golden Hoard, and the view was impressive, to say the least. My friend's eyes were bugging out at the show they put on for him. But I also learned lessons about technology development, how the power structure works to eliminate threats like us, and many, many other lessons, including my most important: personal integrity is the world's scarcest commodity. Mr. Professor, Dennis, and their wives were beacons in the darkness, but almost nobody else had the right stuff. That was the most dismaying experience of my life, not that evil-minded people like Mr. Deputy eagerly did Godzilla's bidding if the price was right, although witnessing the depths of evil in our system was also very educational. I will cover a lot of that territory in the coming posts, but for now, it is off to work.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

I am not sure in which order I should put these vignettes, so they will seem to wander around a little, as events will cross over one another. I think that the arcs of many of the people involved is a good way to illustrate the situations. This post will be on Mr. Texas. He sits in prison today and has been sufficiently rendered harmless that he is one of the very few people who I have identified by name in my writings. Nearly all the names in my story are easily adduced by somebody with only a little gumption, but the names are really not very important. Mr. Texas's real name is Ken Hodgell. He played the same role that Bill the BPA Hit Man did in Seattle, and is a very accomplished dark pather. Bill, however, was recently paid millions of dollars to become a hit man for the medical racket. Working for the forces of darkness can pay well, for a while.

Ken was the world's greatest potato grower at one time, at least according to him. He was also a Mormon, and I will explore the Mormon connection soon. He bought one of our kits right about when Mr. Deputy began "investigating" us, I have strong suspicions that both them getting "on the case" at the same time was no coincidence. I am not sure when the first time was that I met Ken, but after the raid, and Dennis was scrambling, Ken began to inveigle his way into the organization. Ken was slick. At a meeting at a hotel next to LA International Airport, we interviewed people for ten regional directorships of the dealer network, trying to get the effort independent of what happened in Ventura. Ken lived in Texas at the time, and his presentation was so slick that we gave him a round of applause when he finished. Like Mr. Deputy, he had the overgrown Boy Scout act down pat, looking for all the world like Mr Rogers.

By that time, I was going into a general physical collapse from two months of working with no records after the raid after months of trying to ride the rocket, and many other stresses. People have told me that the rings under my eyes were so dark that I looked like a raccoon. In April 1988, I asked Dennis if I could have the summer off, and I did not know if I could work in an environment like that again. I had already saved Dennis's bacon a few times, and he said I could have the time off. The next month, Godzilla made his billion dollar offer to go away, which I did not hear about for eight more years. I understood and even sympathized with why Dennis did not tell me, even though I was his partner.

Dennis later told me that Ken began politicking with the network early on, and Dennis could tell that Ken was up to no good, but he did not tell anybody. Dennis did something similar with Bill, and Bill killed one of Dennis's employees. Dennis thinks that he can handle such people, but I would not call what those men did being "handled." Bill and Ken wreaked havoc on Dennis's companies, once they got on the inside, and Ken helped wreck my life in ways that I may never be able to publicly disclose, in order to protect the innocent and the guilty. That picture of Dennis and me (one of my long-armed selfies) in my big essay was taken about a week before Dennis was arrested.

When Dennis was arrested with the billion dollar bail, Ken struck. He recruited Mr. Stooge, whose story I will soon tell, and one other regional director, and they went to Ventura in July to check out the Ventura situation on behalf of the dealers. It was really Ken's play to steal and wreck the company, and it largely worked. I was hiking in the Cascade Mountains while that was happening, trying to recover, and had no idea what was happening. My future wife asked me to come home, and I got a trailer and collected my meager possessions from my grandmother's basement in Bellingham and drove to Ventura. I decided to drive by the office on the way home, and it was one of my salient moments of awakening. In the same parking lot where Dennis said the previous December that Godzilla's eyes had to be bugging out, and where I watched those cars speed into our parking lot to begin the raid a month later, I got out of my car and greeted Mr. Engineer, Mr. Stooge, and Ken, as they walked up to me. Our buildings were closed. I had no idea what was happening, but as they all shook my hands, I knew that something was up, and Mr. Engineer said that he and Mr. Researcher were going to work with Ken and Mr. Stooge. I could smell the play a mile away, but did not visibly react much to what I was hearing. I later heard that I arrived in our parking lot only a few minutes after Ken walked through our offices and told all the employees that he had just come from a meeting with Mr. Deputy and was informing the employees that if they continued working for us that they would be arrested as Dennis's accomplices. Everybody ran out of the building and stole anything not nailed down. What I saw in Ventura made the ugliness in Seattle pale to insignificance.

Mr. Engineer had been with Dennis since Yakima and lived with us in Boston. He supervised the construction of the world's largest building, the Boeing 747 plant in Everett, and was its first plant superintendent. He got cancer and was forced into early retirement, and Dennis picked him off the scrap heap. Mr. Engineer built Dennis's heat pump factory in Seattle, after the Rockefellers' bank wiped out Dennis's manufacturer. When I heard Mr. Engineer say that he and Mr. Researcher were going to work for Ken, I initially could not believe it. That day, I went over to Mr. Researcher's home, because I literally could not believe that he could do that. My warnings fell on deaf ears, and Ken fired Mr. Engineer almost immediately after he got what he wanted from him, and Mr. Engineer somehow got back home in Ellensburg from Texas, penniless. To his credit, soon before he died, he told Mr. Researcher that they were a couple of saps. It was really worse than that. Mr. Engineer was going to work for anybody who paid him.

After I unloaded the trailer and dropped it off, I paid a visit to a very shaken up Mr. Professor. When he asked me if I thought that Dennis was a good guy, my heart broke. For an hour, I told Mr. Professor what I thought was happening, and I was 100% right. I had just been around the block enough times by then to easily spot plays like Ken's. I had probably seen 20 by then. After I told Mr. Professor what I thought was happening, he thanked me for my perspective, but that he had already decided to support Dennis. I have tears in my eyes just writing this. He then carried the load for the next couple of years, and it cost him his life. It was at Mr. Professor's home that Ken unmasked himself to Dennis, as he faked a "conversation" with Dennis in front of everybody, on the phone to the jail.

With Dennis in jail, it did not take long for Ken to wipe out the company, and then he turned around and sank his dagger into all the dupes who supported his play. I do not know what all Dennis knows about Ken, but Dennis is certain that Ken was on the payroll like Bill was, doing an inside-outside job with the authorities, with them all working on behalf of their paymasters and patrons, and in this instance, it was almost certainly Godzilla. Ken seemed to put extra effort into screwing everybody over. Bill merely abandoned his dupes to their fate.

What I initially found with my CIA-contract-agent relative, years before I met Dennis, was that those contract agents doing the dirty work do not get pensions like Ralph McGehee did, but when a job is over, they go back to whatever they were doing before being used for a mission. Lee Harvey Oswald was another disposable covert action asset. Bill later ripped off the public with scams, using some of the same tactics that he used against Dennis in Seattle (such as using the legal system as a weapon), and 15 years after taking down our company, Ken was involved in a Mormon scam, and has spent more than the past decade behind bars. Bill did better, but it likely just reflected his usefulness.

I could write more about Ken, but those are the highlights. Psychopaths like him will die unrepentant, and end up living in the vicinity of people like Max.

Time for bed.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

This post will be on Mr. Stooge. Without his "help," Ken Hodgell's play might not have worked. I have written about Amway a little before. For you non-Americans, Amway is short for "American Way," like Superman's motto. There was no escaping Amway in the 1970s and 1980s, and I could tell "funny" stories about being pitched by Amway members. I attended one pitch against my will, soon after I moved to LA. By that time, Amway had achieved cult status, so being herded into a room of hundreds to hear the pitch, without being told that they were hearing an Amway pitch (they did not spring the word "Amway" onto their victims until more than an hour into the pitch), was the standard practice. In my first year in LA, before I became streetwise and realized that anybody being instantly friendly to me was trying to use me, I wasted an evening of my life listening to one of those pitches. My landlord drug me to another Amway pitch in the late 1990s, and I went to see if much had changed. It kind of had, but it was really a kindergarten-for-adults atmosphere, with the meeting beginning with everybody standing and reciting the pledge of allegiance, as if they were still in grade school. After that meeting, I met the star up-line in Bellevue, near my home (where I eventually worked for a decade and ran into Bill Gates), and he was slick but frankly answered my questions. I wish Amway the best, but it sure is not for everybody.

Amway in many ways fit right into Dennis's approach with his Christian and Patriot ways. So, it was not surprising when Amway people began to become interested in what we were doing in Boston, with Dennis playing up the Patriot theme. When we put on that show near the front gates of that nuclear reactor, Mr. Stooge was there. He looked like an overgrown choirboy, and he was prominent in Amway. Not long after that, he brought that Amway billionaire to our office, and that is probably when I met Mr. Stooge. Before long, Amway's chief investigator of business opportunities was visiting our office, and on the way to Ventura, we drove to Amway's headquarters in Michigan, and a local college tested our heat pump. We had one on the truck, a demo model that was eventually seized in the raid. The salesman who got his family into the business in Boston, which was why we were in Boston (and that salesman eventually betrayed Denis, and pretty seriously, after Dennis did all he could to rescue them, and they fought him the entire way, but that is just the typical story), built that demo model, but he was not properly trained and damaged the compressor, which impacted its performance. That heat pump did not work very well until we replaced the compressor in Ventura. So, Amway tested a broken unit and did not get involved with us, and Dennis was privately relieved, as he did not want to become part of some corporate conglomerate, and I can see the wisdom in that. Mr. Engineer drove his car behind the truck, with his adoptive son, and we all had fun sleeping in a huge room at the Amway hotel. We never paid the bill and that professor who tested that broken heat pump was a witness for the prosecution at Dennis's preliminary hearing.

We actually picked up a few people in Boston who came with us to Ventura, especially when the rocket began to take off, and one of them was Mr. Stooge, whose wife came along, as well as another Amway pal of Mr. Stooge's named Andre. Again, Mr. Stooge had the choirboy look and demeanor down, at least at a casual glance. With what I had already been through, I never looked at surface stuff such as appearance and social patter, but looked deeper into people. As Jesus said, by their fruits you will know them, and that really is my acid test, not appearances and talk, but what people do. Mr. Stooge was a very talented salesman, as was Andre, and they made big money selling kits for Dennis, with their choirboy act. After the raid, it began going downhill rapidly for me, and two months after the raid, I asked Dennis for the summer off, to try to recover. Dennis also saw me as his protégé. Quite frankly, there is nobody like Dennis on Earth, and neither I nor anybody else is really fit to be Dennis's protégé. And in the end, I did not like Dennis's approach and did not think it had a prayer. But he did the best that he could with what he was, and I was the real deal overgrown Boy Scout, like Mr. Professor, and that was the quality that Dennis treasured the most but almost never found. What Dennis to this day still does not seem to understand is that the businessman's route to FE is doomed. People involved with FE for business opportunities are there to be self-serving, and anybody with self-serving motivation is putty in the hands of Godzilla and friends. Of course, almost nobody on Earth is other-serving to any significant degree, so Dennis kept playing to Patriotism, to Christianity, to business opportunities, to "get something going," but the efforts were always going to be weak, as the participants were involved for self-serving reasons. That is really the crux of the FE conundrum. Capitalism, nationalism, and capitalism are the three main population management ideologies in the USA today, and Dennis played to all three of them. You are not going outmaneuver the master shepherd with his own techniques.

What I did not learn until years after the events was that when I asked Dennis for that time off and stepped down, it seems that it was known to some in Dennis's organization that I was the heir apparent, and when I stepped away, Mr. Stooge asked Dennis if he could be the new protégé, and Dennis told Mr. Stooge that he did not have the right stuff for that. Who knows how much that had to do with what happened next, but as soon as Dennis was arrested, Ken began to make his play, and Mr. Stooge was his protégé and henchman. I knew nothing of what Ken or Mr. Stooge were up to, and until that moment in the parking lot in front of our building, I thought that they were upstanding members of the effort. But I had seen about 20 attempts to steal Dennis's companies by then, and when Ken, who looked and acted like Mr. Rogers, and Mr. Stooge, who had the choirboy look and demeanor down, met me in front of our building, even when I knew nothing of what was happening, I instantly smelled a rat when Mr. Engineer said that he and Mr. Researcher were going to go work for Ken and Mr. Stooge. Later that day, when I tried to warn Mr. Researcher and all I was received was scoffing in return, I realized that those naïve old men were going to get very hurt, playing with the cutthroats. Mr. Engineer did go to work for Ken, but I was able to eventually get it through Mr. Researcher's naïve head that that Ken and Mr. Stooge were criminals, not choir boys. Mr. Engineer's tenure with Ken and Mr. Stooge lasted as long as it took for them to use his industry contacts to place a panel order (they can only be ordered in lots of 1,000, which was a big part of the problem for the "industry") and Ken used Mr. Stooge's powers of persuasion to get some official approval stickers for the equipment out of Mr. Engineer's hands into Ken's. Within minutes of parting Mr. Engineer from those stickers (which had been one of his prized possessions since Seattle), Mr. Engineer was fired and had to somehow get from Texas back home to Ellensburg, penniless. Again, Mr. Engineer later admitted how naïve he was, but it also spoke to his and Mr. Researcher's integrity levels, or lack thereof. They were like children lured into a stranger's car with a candy bar, and they were old enough to be my father and then some.

Ken soon began screwing over everybody involved with his scam, once our company was destroyed, and I never heard how he and Mr. Stooge parted, but I doubt it was in a "friends for life" way. I never heard of Mr. Stooge again. I would like to think that his conscience eventually woke up and he was remorseful. He helped wreck my life. But that is probably just wishful thinking on my part.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

As I write these, it is coming naturally to me to daisy chain these, where a peripheral character in one vignette becomes the focus in the next, and this post will be about Mr. Engineer. He was born in the Midwest around 1920, his family had dealings with Al Capone (just business, and they thought at Al was all right, a reliable businessman), and he was in World War II in the Pacific Theater. He was an electrical engineer. He went to MIT for some special program during World War II, and he was fairly bright (IQ around 135 or so), but he did not turn the world on fire. He knew Frank Lloyd Wright, and as I have written, he supervised the construction of the world's largest building and was its first plant superintendent.

He got bladder cancer when he was around 60 and Boeing eased him into retirement. He never had a family, but when I knew him, the woman he lived with in Ellensburg had two sons, and they treated him like their father, and he treated them like his sons. There was a lot of love there, with his adoptive family. When Dennis got going in Yakima, Mr. Engineer was on the scrapheap, making minimal wages working for a local robber baron. Dennis pulled him off the scrapheap and he worked for Dennis in Seattle. He built Dennis's heat pump factory, and because he knew everybody, some of the gangster tactics used on Dennis's company did not work. One surprise OSHA inspection did not work out as planned because the inspector knew Mr. Engineer and Mr. Engineer ran a tight ship. Building and maintaining the factory that built 747s was a little more challenging than building Dennis's heat pump factory.

That woman whom Bill the Hit Man killed worked for Mr. Engineer, and he was on the board of Dennis's company. The weekend before Dennis had his Seattle company stolen, a few of us spent a Saturday removing as much of Mr. Inventor's equipment from Dennis's facility as we could, and we stored it in Mr. Engineer's barn. It was the first of many moving experiences that I had with Dennis over the years. Mr. Engineer lived with us in Boston.

He had been around the block a few times, but was pretty naïve, as engineers can tend to be. When Dennis got the red carpet treatment from the chairman of the board of the Seabrook Association, Mr. Engineer attended with Dennis. Like his pal Frank Lloyd Wright, Mr. Engineer was working in his mid-60s because he had to. He was broke, and really was with Dennis for the money. While I was living on $50 a week in Boston, Mr. Engineer received $500 per week. I was more than OK with that (and I was an owner), but when people are in it for the money, you have to treat them differently and know what their limits are.

He came to work with us in Ventura, when we could afford to pay him. I could tell plenty of interesting and funny stories about Mr. Engineer, and I loved the old guy. In Ventura, when I finally took a salary, of $1,000 per month, Mr. Engineer got $3,000 per month, as I recall. Again, nobody was begrudging him anything, but he was in it for the money, just like almost everybody else. The salesmen were making many thousands a month.

When I had that salient event in our parking lot, and Mr. Engineer told me that he was going to go work for the cutthroats, I instantly knew that he was doing it because they promised to pay him. It was that easy to dupe him, and he got Mr. Researcher to naively go along with it. Their support of the cutthroats had plenty to do with the momentum of Ken's play. Again, Ken fired Mr. Engineer as soon as they got what they needed from him, so other than driving from Texas to Ellensburg, penniless, Mr. Engineer really did not suffer much. He really was on a gravy train with Dennis, given his life's situation, and when the gravy train was over, Mr. Engineer looked for the next one. His joining up with Ken helped wreck my life, in ways that I cannot publicly reveal for now, but I forgave the old guy, as did Dennis. Dennis always forgives those who screwed him over. It is one of his many special qualities.

Almost two years later, Mr. Engineer actually testified at the misconduct hearing (and was looking to be hired by Dennis again, as he tried rebuilding once again), and he stayed with Mr. Professor, while I was living there, too, with my new wife. It was good to see him, and there was always love between us. He died a few months later, of complications to a cancer surgery at a VA hospital, at age 69.

Mr. Engineer's part in our adventures taught me the peril of being in the FE milieu for the money. If that is your motivation, you will easily be seduced by the predators in the milieu, not least of which is Godzilla, but people like Mr. Engineer would only come onto Godzilla's radar as a way to get at Dennis, and he was useful in that way. I was young and naïve when I signed that affidavit for my erstwhile boss after he helped steal Dennis's company. I would not do that today. Money-hungriness and naïveté are a deadly combination in the FE field, and I have witnessed many people in thrall to those afflictions.

Time for bed.

Best,

Wade

[Nine]

Hi Wade,



"Would it help to confuse it if we run away more?"

Monty python and the holy grail...




Very disturbing posts at least for me.

You see its the Amway connection..

these folks or the folks that run that operation are some of the finest Godzilla assets and they tested your machine and of course it was broken at Amway headquarters...as it were...

No? Look up Eric Prince and his blackwater pals and Rich Devos... what a fine bunch of guys...

These folks run the GOP...with some help from the Kochs and Adlesons boys...

Ah our pal Gordon Duff with another intel drop telling us about the system...as it were...

http://www.veteranstoday.com/2015/04...eing-targeted/

Prince is in there with his Amway pals funding that deal...and the mercs loose on American soil funded by such folk...think about that for a moment...

ah well Nine is going to ride his bike...

thanx Wade

Nine

[Wade Frazier]

Hi Nine:

You are getting too conspiratorial in your thinking. The Amway situation was actually pretty innocent, just them looking into a new opportunity. Dennis has interacted with many billionaires on his journey, and none of them ever parted with a dollar. As Bill Gates said, you don’t get rich by cutting checks. Our tech broke that heat pump, not Amway. It was actually tested at a local college, not at Amway's facilities. For all the downside with Amway, they try to sell high quality products. I live in a nation full of flag-saluting, right-wing Christians, and Amway is no different, although the argument that it is exploiting them has merit. But they are no more harmful than any cult, and actually have made an economic contribution. Most cults cannot say that. I certainly don't sing Amway's praises, but I am not going to vilify them.

On Blackwater, yes, evil stuff, like Wackenhut and many other "security" firms in the USA. Wackenhut may well have been involved in that sting operation that tried to nab us. I really do not care that much to explore it (and poking around in that stuff can be dangerous), but they were in the vicinity of the sting operation. Duff is too conspiratorial in his outlook, IMO, which is a common right-wing affliction, especially former soldiers (look up Bo Gritz, for instance, and Dennis thinks that he is on special assignment, as Duff may be, as even Bearden may be, but I doubt it – anybody with a high-ranking military background is suspect with me). Conspiracies definitely exist, and I have borne the brunt of them, but conspiracism is a diseased mindset. The conspiratorial stuff is only part of the picture, and not a very big piece at that. People who cannot hold much information in the minds at one time and want simple answers tend to gravitate to conspiratorial thinking. It is kind of a beginner's mindset for alternative thinking, and has to be surpassed, or else it can be a trap. The conspiratorial stuff plays an important but minor role. The enemy and savior is us, not some villains or heroes.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

Mr. Inventor will be the subject of this post. As I have written plenty, my first orientation to the energy issue was the inventor's, due to my tutelage for years under Mr. Mentor. I went into the world thinking that inventors were heroes. Was I ever wrong, and Mr. Inventor began to demonstrate that to me. Like Mr. Engineer, he was a World War II veteran and about the same age. After World War II, he worked for General Motors, unwittingly screwing over inventors as he helped steal their inventions. When Dennis's company was stolen and he left town almost immediately, the "loyalists" left behind got together regularly, hoping that Dennis would make something happen and they could go to work for him again. As I look back, I really don't know what we were thinking. I was young and naïve, did not even know how the heat pump worked, and if I had understood the milieu and Dennis's history, I would have realized that what had just happened, as I helped mop up the mess, was the biggest run at alternative energy ever taken, and that heat pump's day in the sun was over. It is still the best heating system that has ever been on the world market, but having a great piece of technology really does not mean anything. It is only one piece of a much larger puzzle, which newcomers to the FE field, for instance, do not seem able to grasp. It seems like the only way that they will begin to learn is to go out and actually try to do something, and if they survive the experience, my writings on the issue may begin to make sense. Otherwise, they are stuck in the field's arrested development.

The loyalists met about once a week for the next couple of months, and one-by-one, they began dropping out. We had not been paid in months, and those long-suffering wives were getting rather impatient, understandably. But I was young, single, and full of fire. Dennis could not get rid of me, but the others began to drop out. There were about ten of us to start, and the first dropped out about a week into it, and the others gradually did over the next two months, until I was the only one left, and Dennis had 400 employees several months earlier. As the loyalists began to dwindle, I formed a friendship with Mr. Inventor, probably due to my relationship with Mr. Mentor. Dennis heavily promoted Mr. Inventor in Seattle, and his heat storage technology. It was not really alternative energy, but just a way to store thermal energy. There was really not much remarkable about it, in the big picture, especially when compared to the heat pump or FE, but Dennis heavily promoted Mr. Inventor and he had a facility at Dennis's factory, and as I have written, the weekend before Dennis's company was stolen, I helped move Mr. Inventor's equipment to Mr. Engineer's barn. Even then, I had a sense of what Mr. Inventor had to be going through, having his life's work put in a barn. As far as I know, he never removed it from that barn. He was 63 when Dennis's company was stolen, and that event put him into the rocking chair. He never did anything again. It was one of the many sad moments of my journey.

A few weeks into the loyalist meetings, one of the only people to drop out with honor (only two did) met with me and Mr. Inventor at a café, and we talked the night away, and that is when Mr. Inventor told me about the problems with inventors' clubs, as each inventor tried to dominate and commandeer it for his invention. That was first time that I had heard anything like that. All I had heard until then was how inventors were always screwed over, with their inventions stolen or suppressed. It was a new dimension of the issue for me, and was the first of many events with inventors that I experienced over the next decade, before I finally realized that inventors had no more personal integrity than anybody else, which was not saying much. More than 40 years later, Mr. Mentor is still the closest thing that I ever met to an altruistic inventor, and even he fell way short, eventually, in some of the many sobering moments of my journey.

As I have written plenty, I was Dennis's accountant for more than 20 years and saw nearly all the money that went through his hands from 1984 to 2006, and knew that people such as that Ph.D. shamelessly lied about Dennis, and when asked to support their lies, they gave me the finger. What did I know, signing affidavits and testifying to the very numbers that they lied about? It was surreal to witness at first, but they were just some of the innumerable pieces of evidence that further drove home my journey's most important lesson.

Somewhere between Seattle and my early days in Boston, I saw all of Dennis's ledgers and saw what money was spent in the last days of the Seattle operation, as I worked for free reconstructing the records. All the available money went to fixing those systems that were thrown in before the tax credit expired at the end of 1985, and one name stood out as I did the accounting: while the rest of us starved, Mr. Inventor banked his weekly check for about $2,000. It was the first instance that I saw of what Mr. Researcher would later lament, that Dennis treated inventors too good.

We were not able to fit all of Mr. Inventor's equipment onto that truck to put in Mr. Engineer's barn, and it was not long until my boss and his cronies gutted Dennis's dead company and stole every scrap that they could. Whether they were working for Godzilla is kind of an open question for me, and highlights the problems in the milieu, in that telling the provocateurs from the free-lance criminals is not easy, as they all act the same. Mr. Skeptic is an example of that. I was always a bit skeptical that he was on Godzilla's payroll, but now I am more than half convinced that he was, especially when he quietly folded his tents once Dennis was run out of the country. The ringleaders of the theft of Dennis's and Mr. Financier's companies were Mormons, and our company was strangely filled with Mormons. Mormonism is the religion of business in the USA. I have at least one relative who became a Mormon for all of the business opportunities that it afforded. Ken Hodgell is also Mormon, and later went to prison, where he sits today, for his involvement in a Mormon scam. In Seattle, Dennis eventually discovered that the Mormon interests were the biggest investors in the local electric companies, and he did not have to connect too many dots to begin to see a very sinister Mormon picture. Many years later, I saw Steven Greer write that the Mormon financial empire is currently at the top of Godzilla's organization, and from what I saw, I do not seriously doubt it. Every time we turned around, we encountered Mormons. One of the "loyalists" was a Mormon, and he was not part of the conspiracy to steal Dennis's company, but he also did not quite bow out with honor. When Dennis and his wife hurriedly left the state, they lent that man some of their furniture and gave him important business and personal records for safekeeping. He frankly admitted to me that his "loyalty" to Dennis was mostly inspired by the hope of a big payday, not the "cause." He suggested to me that he would hold those records hostage until Dennis paid him some more money. I used my friendship with him to get him to do the right thing, and he eventually did, at my urging, and I took those records out to Boston with me, along with a few other meager possession that Dennis and his wife stored in Mr. Engineer's barn in that same beat up station wagon that Dennis drove over the Cascades in on that legendary day, such as Dennis's wife's guitar.

Mr. Engineer went home and scrambled, waiting for Dennis to make something happen so that he could get paid again. When I raised the money in Boston to become Dennis's partner, after Dennis's investor pulled the rug out from under him, Mr. Engineer was already on his way to Boston. The first thing that Dennis did when he had an investor step up was hire Mr. Engineer. It was really an act of charity, as we really did not need Mr. Engineer (if we ever built a factory, he would have come in handy, but that never happened after Seattle), and Mr. Engineer was literally in Montana someplace, on his way to Boston, when I saved the day. Events like that are why Dennis and I are closer than family.

A couple of months after Dennis had his company stolen and the thieves eventually abandoned the facility, Mr. Inventor contacted me and asked me to accompany him and the police as they entered the now-abandoned facility where Dennis's company was (the building was 300 meters long, the standard factory building with office in front). I drove him there and we met with the police as they secured the building. The portion where Mr. Inventor's remaining equipment was had been ransacked by the thieves, and the wreckage was strewn across the floor. Mr. Inventor had that stricken look that I would see often over the years. God, how sad it all was. It was around that time that I called Dennis, as the only loyalist left, and told him that I wanted to come out there and help him rebuild. My days with Dennis in Seattle was my fourth attempt to live in Seattle as an adult, and I was incredibly was going to leave it behind to chase my dream. I left Seattle, with tears in my eyes, and left behind a girlfriend who soon ended the relationship, not wanting a bi-coastal relationship, understandably. It was not the only time that I had a bi-coastal relationship because of my relationship with Dennis. My marriage was bi-coastal for six months, when I was with Dennis in New Jersey, and those days are like a bad dream for me.

Dennis tried to talk me out of moving to Boston and advised me to get a permanent job, and maybe one day we would hook up again. I then spent two weeks looking for work, and I could not stand it. I had been hit by lighting, and was not about to abandon my dream. I then called Dennis and told him that I would sleep on a floor to help him rebuild, and he then said to come on out. A few weeks before I left for Boston, I met with Mr. Inventor one last time. Again, I am such an overgrown Boy Scout that men and women a generation and more older than me treat me like a son or grandson, and my peers usually try to be on their best behavior with me, and the younger generation often looks to me for guidance, and I left Boston on very friendly terms with Mr. Inventor. He asked me to be on the lookout for him, for any opportunities.

The day after I arrived in Boston, Dennis began thinking in terms of FE and my wild ride was about to begin, and Mr. Inventor's heat storage technology quickly became passé for us, but Dennis is even more crazily loyal than I am, and he felt badly about all the wrecked lives in Seattle. One day, before I became Dennis's partner, Dennis had me call Mr. Inventor, to see if he would be willing to work with us again. Dennis was really doing him a favor. I was shocked at Mr. Inventor's rage, and his only response to me was: "Show me the money!" He quickly made it clear that he was only interested in making big money from Dennis, and until Dennis delivered big money, Mr. Inventor was not interested. It was one of many sobering moments of my journey.

Dennis has always led his efforts with technology and marketing, and he would devise such ingenious marketing plans that a chimpanzee could sell them. When Dennis was in Seattle, before the electric companies began to lower the boom on him, his salespeople had an 80% closing ratio for that heat pump. It was unheard of for a $10,000 piece of equipment that nobody knew worked or not, but when you put it on their homes for free, what qualms could they have? Many of Dennis's salespeople had never sold anything in their lives, and were suddenly making big money. I saw it in Seattle and Ventura, where the salespeople had it go to their heads, and they thought that they were god's gift to salesmanship, when they hardly had to work at all to make the sale. The magic was in Dennis's marketing programs, not the people he had selling for him, but the salespeople rarely figured that out, as they had the self-serving tunnel vision that afflicts nearly everybody. In our current system, salespeople are mercenaries by nature, and getting salespeople and accountants together is like mixing dogs and cats.

One of Dennis's tactics was to turn one of his salesmen into a "winner," to inspire the other salespeople, to encourage them. Again, that "winner" was not so talented, but in Dennis's programs he could look like the world's greatest salesman. Dennis is the best salesman that I ever met or heard of, but that is really not where his greatest talents are. They are in integrating technology into an effort to bring an industry from a moribund state to an industrial one. He did it with foam insulation and he tried to do it with that that heat pump. I still regard it as the most brilliant work that he ever did, and he did it all before I met him. In Seattle, Dennis turned some low-level sales guy into his "winner," and he was one of the first loyalists to drop out, and he said things on the day after the company was stolen that made me wonder about him, although he also helped move Mr. Inventor's equipment to Mr. Engineer's barn the previous weekend.

Several of the "loyalists" who dropped out were not so loyal. One was the head installer, who trained Dennis's installers, and like Mr. Engineer did with Ken, he immediately went to work for the thieves of Dennis's company, repairing those installations. He portrayed himself as being noble and "spying" on the thieves, but it was really just a cover story to do anything to get paid. He was also getting paid in the last days of Seattle, like Mr. Inventor was. Another was Mr. Young Engineer, who designed the systems that Dennis built in Seattle, but the kid was only a couple years removed from college and literally had his textbooks open as he "designed" Dennis's systems, and Dennis had to keep changing it to get it right.

When I raised the money, we brought out that installer to build the demonstration unit that you can see the deputies hauling away in these pictures. They hauled away a big part of my life, with me supervising. I had that stricken look that day myself. That installer was no good guy, and it eventually went sour with him and Dennis, and Dennis put me in the middle of it, delivering his threats, and I told Dennis that I would never deliver one of his threats again. As we will see, that threat kind of boomeranged on Dennis. He rarely slipped up like that, but when he did, it came back to haunt him. Dennis is not the perfect person, but he tries, and mightily.

Before the raid, when we were flying high, Dennis invited that "winner" salesman down to Ventura, to see what we were doing and so that he could make the big money again, selling for Dennis. Dennis flew him down, I met him at LA International Airport and chauffeured him around, and he spent a day with Dennis checking out the operation. He then went back home. Soon after, probably only a week or two, we received what amounted to an extortion demand from these loyalists: Mr. Inventor, that young engineer, that head installer, and that "winner" salesman. They threatened to make things very ugly unless we immediately paid them $250,000. Their threat was accompanied by a calculation that showed that Dennis owed Mr. Inventor $2,000 a week for the year-and-a-half since the company was stolen in Seattle, and the others made up their own claims for what they thought Dennis owed them (not in their wildest imaginings did they have any claims at all, and they were about the only big money winners in Seattle, which made their motivation clear), and they came up with a nice round $250,000 extortion demand. By that time, I had already seen so many attempts to steal Dennis's companies that I was no longer shocked, but to have that come from the "loyalists" was pretty sickening.

That trip to Ventura by that "winner" salesman, that we paid for, was really a scouting expedition on behalf of those "loyalists," so they could see how much to extort from us. We ignored their demand, naturally, as it was crazy. When Mr. Inventor was with Dennis in Seattle, he admitted to Dennis that he was really no different than any other inventor, as he was in it for the money, and he even admitted that greed could get the best of him. I saw that in action, very sadly. If that was the end of it, it would be bad enough, but there is more to report.

We were raided the next month, and it began going downhill very rapidly for me, and one day Mr. Inventor called me at home. We had not spoken since his "show me the money" conversation, and his extortion demand was insane. I chalked him up as one of the many cautionary tales of my journey, and a pathetic one. I was genuinely sympathetic to what he had lived through, but attacking the only man who treated him well and tried to help him out, to resurrect his fortunes, was insane, not to mention dishonorable and greedy. When I surprisingly heard him on the other end when I picked up the phone, I had one of the more bizarre conversations of my life. Dennis was out of town on one of his many trips taken around the USA, as he scrambled to avoid any more death blows. In normal companies, the salespeople and CEOs are always traveling, and it was no exception in Dennis's case. Mr. Inventor called to inform me that the business trip that Dennis was on was not a business trip at all. Dennis was fleeing the country and would leave me holding the bag. It was like Mr. Inventor lived on another planet. His call was more than vaguely threatening, and I thanked him for this threat, wished him well, and hung up. I never heard from him again, but that young engineer and the head installer testified at Dennis's preliminary hearing, when I had my radicalizing moment. That installer thoroughly enjoyed seeing Dennis in leg irons, and did his best on the witness stand, but what could he really say, that the equipment that he installed was some kind of scam? That young engineer showed his base ignorance of the technology on the witness stand, unable to think past his textbooks, even when he created the data the defied them. Not very smart. That was the caliber of "witness" that the prosecution paraded onto the witness stand during the preliminary hearing. There was not one true "victim" among them, at least of Dennis's, and the tale of those extortionate "loyalists" were just one of dozens of stories like them that I could tell, but I am just hitting the "highlights."

Mr Inventor's story is not yet finished. The prosecution's twenty-plus "witnesses" were a collection of dupes, plants, people who stole from Dennis or tried to steal from him, and other assorted worthless "witnesses," after several months of fishing for victims and trying to manufacture them. Mr. Inventor eagerly wanted to testify, but to what? The prosecution did not even want him, and they were putting anybody on the stand who could say anything bad about Dennis, but Mr. Inventor was foaming at the mouth. He had turned into an orc lusting after the One Ring, as so many others have.

I have to give him credit for first waking me up to the idea that inventors were not heroes, and then he vividly demonstrated it to me over the subsequent years. His was the first major inventor betrayal that I saw of Dennis, but it was far from the last. It was not until my second stint with Dennis, in 1996-1997 that I finally fully realized how worthless inventors were in general, as far as making anything important happen. Inventors are just one part of a much larger puzzle, but the FE field today is dominated by inventors trying to get rich and famous, announcing that they are the Messiah, and so on. The field has been in a state of arrested development for longer than I have been alive, and the main threat that Dennis posed, to Godzilla and other predators in the milieu, was turning the moribund FE field into something that could get something done. That is the primary reason why Dennis spent two years behind bars, survived numerous murder attempts, was offered $1 billion to go away, and was eventually run out of his home nation, The Land of the Free. There is nobody else on Earth like Dennis that I know of, but one man can't save the world by himself. It has truly been a mind-boggling experience to know Dennis for nearly 30 years, and he gave it the college try and then some, but his approach has really never come close to working, but helped lead to mine, which Dennis and Brian immediately recognized as something different.

I am about to begin a busy weekend, but might find the time for some more vignettes. I really could write these vignettes for months, but am just trying to hit the highlights. Not everybody was a scoundrel, and I'll write some heartwarming ones soon, but the people who acquitted themselves with honor were very few and far between, which taught me my journey's most important lesson. I am pleased with how these vignettes are going, as they are breaking some new ground, and they are a gold mine for my target audience, and will help them see the big picture. In the end, these vignettes are intended show how I came to my approach today and why I have nothing to do with the FE field and don’t want to.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

I am going to take a little break from the cadence of these vignettes to show what I was learning through it all, and how it related to my approach today. As I have written, I did not even know how the heat pump worked when I chased Dennis out to Boston, but being a scientific prodigy, I learned real fast. Dennis soon said that I was about the best that he ever saw in explaining the heat pump, and Mr. Mentor was a world-class scientific and inventive talent, who I soon brought into it, and he was not the only one like that in our stable when they took us out in Ventura. It soon became evident to me that Dennis's explanations often fell short of the reality, as he explained the technologies to lay audiences. He also played the salesman's puffery game, and I did not like it and told him so. Ironically, Dennis far undersold what we were pursuing: the biggest event in the human journey. When Dennis promoted the heat pump, it was so that homeowners could save on their heating bills, and when he sold business opportunities, it was with the lure of it being easy money. Heck, all business opportunities are sold that way, and the FE opportunity is like no other, but as I took in what Dennis was doing, the people it attracted, and what our prospects were, forget Godzilla for a moment, it really was a pretty stunted version of what I was dreaming of. Even now, I am not sure how much of this vision that Dennis would understand or think was desirable. Dennis was really not aiming very high with his audience, and that was part of the problem.

Dennis's IQ is likely higher than mine, and mine is in the genius range, but Dennis never really had any scientific training, leaving home at age 13, etc. Dennis learned fast, but science is not easy to learn by the seat of the britches, moving a million miles an hour. I’ll give an example of the way that Dennis explained the heat pump and how I began to see that it was really not having the needed impact. If you watch the video of the raid, you will see an interview of an old man named Nick. Nick was about 60 years old at time, and I am sure died long ago. He was a friendly parasite, trying to jump on the gravy train somehow. When Dennis would explain his heat pump to lay audiences, he would say that the panels would get over 100 degrees hot in the sun. It was part of a rather awkward way to explain that the panels absorbed solar radiation. When the heat pump was running, the entire way that it worked was that the panels were colder than the environment, so that it would suck heat from it, and there would also be a direct absorption of solar energy, which was partly behind his 100 degrees comment. One day, Nick came by the office (he lived an hour away in the San Fernando Valley, and came regularly to kind of hang out and somehow get a job with us, which is why he was there for the raid), and as he was bending my ear, he asked me just how hot again those panels got when it ran. I was kind of stupefied, and realized that that was the kind of understanding that audiences got from Dennis's stump-jumper explanations. Dennis regularly made gaffes like that and worse, and I would tell him when he would, but I am not sure that he cared all that much, as he worked the audience.

Dennis is scientifically illiterate (I doubt that he ever read a scientific paper or any scientific books, at least it was that way when I was with him; he was an avid TV watcher), and so is most of his audience, and I began to understand how easily manipulated such an audience was. That is not who I am trying to attract with my work. But there were other attributes of his audiences that I saw were not going to help make FE happen. Dennis and I both have redneck heritages, with redneck fathers and lineages of poor rural whites that go back the British Isles. My ancestors profited handsomely from the free land that came from dispossessing the American Indian, and gold rushes were an integral part of "settling" the American West. Dennis's audiences in great measure were descendants from that rabble that came across the continent, seeking free land and gold. To his audiences, FE was often another gold rush. When I saw those many attempts to steal our companies, along with the shock, I really tried to understand what I was seeing. As I have written, the most common statement made while betraying Dennis was, "It's nothing personal, only business." If anything, that is America's motto. The more honest ones stated it this way, "Dennis, you are so talented that you can always rebuild, but this is the only chance in my lifetime for the big one." What they were too stupid to understand in their mindless greed was that the gold was Dennis, not whatever he was selling at the moment. They were under the thrall of the mindless greed that kills the golden goose, and Dennis was the goose.

So, the entire business route began looking like a loser to me. Not only did the organized suppression become impressive, but Dennis was hurt by his allies more than by the organized suppression, which he finally admitted to me when I saw him in 2013.

What I was not able to generalize until 2003, when I digested some of Bucky Fuller's work, was that I was seeing the many grim adaptations to scarcity that people have made, as they scrap to survive. People act without integrity because they live in scarcity and fear. The only solution that I see is abundance and love.

I may do another interlude post like this before it is back to the vignettes.

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

This will be one of the heartwarming vignettes. Anybody who thinks that Dennis is some kind of criminal or charlatan does not know anything about him, and maybe even more importantly, about his wife, Alison. She has been with him every step of the way, and she does not let him get away with anything. Alison deserves a little biographical sketch. She is Jewish and was raised where Fort Apache, The Bronx was shot. And as can be found in hell-holes like that, Dennis's wife was a Florence Nightingale figure. She was extremely idealistic, and when Dennis met Alison, because he was dating her sister, she was running a logging crew in New England. At the time, Dennis was running United Community Services, Alison fell in love with what Dennis was doing, and the rest was history. Dennis soon stopped dating Alison's sister and began dating Alison, and before long, they married.

At this point, I think it would be prudent to mention their relationship to their religion, as it is such a big part of their lives. They are literalist Christians, believing the Bible to be some kind of magical word of God. I do not share their faith, but it has been an amazing experience to see the wisdom that they gained from their long journeys, even through the prism of what I consider to be a highly constricting way to view the world. Dennis grew up as a migrant farmworker, and in the migrant camps his mother dragged Dennis and his siblings to fire-and-brimstone sermons on Sundays. Dennis did not buy the stories, and even asked the ministers if they really did, and the honest ones replied that they were not sure how accurate the stories were, but they were nice to believe. Dennis really had no use for organized religion, but deeply imbibed the religion of American nationalism, until that fateful day in a bank lobby. Dennis regards every day after that as gravy, and has devoted his life to making his dreams become reality, and he has had a persistence and tenacity that has been incredible to behold.

When Dennis went to college, his senior project was studying Utopian societies, and he quit on the brink of graduation when he learned what his social psychology studies led to in the professional world. Then he began his idealistic journey, to only have his first business wiped out by the USA's first energy crisis. Soon after Dennis and Alison were married, Dennis was in a kind of debate club, discussing big issues, and during one debate, Dennis realized that humanity was incapable of governing itself, and he suddenly realized that only a benevolent dictator could steer humanity away from the abyss, and he suddenly realized that the only "person" for the job was God. He then went home with Alison, got ahold of a Bible, and then began reading it, with that idea in mind, and they both became Christians on the spot. Do I think that Dennis suddenly understood the big picture, which is only portrayed in the King James Bible? No. But I highly respect the journey that he and his wife have taken, with their Christian faith as a cornerstone of their beliefs. It can't be knowledge, as that comes from experience, but it has been a very interesting experience to see the highly enlightened perspectives that Alison and Dennis have achieved, in spite of their Christian beliefs. I'll definitely buy the idea that Jesus manifested the Infinite Spirit in the last month of his earthly life, and his "there is no out-group" message (AKA "love the enemy") is the most enlightened message yet delivered to humanity, which still reverberates two millennia later, but I have no use for any literal interpretation of any text, especially ancient ones that passed through the hands of a self-serving priesthood. I have always acknowledged that limitation in their perspectives, while also being stunned by their level of commitment to what they have been doing since before I met them. I know of nobody on Earth like Dennis, but without Alison, he would have died long ago. She has saved his life many times.

Their journey has been anything but easy, and Alison's wifely style has often been of the frying-pan-over-the-head variety, which is a common style in New York City. During my career, spent working all over the USA, partly due to chasing Dennis, when I meet women who have the frying-pan-over-the-head demeanor, I ask them where they are from, and it is almost always "New York City," usually one of the boroughs such as Queens, the Bronx, or Brooklyn, but never lower Manhattan. Alison and Dennis, like all of us, are partly a product of their upbringing, and it is evident in their journey and style.

When Alison met Dennis, however, she was that Florence Nightingale figure, and loved the idealism and vision that Dennis had. If Dennis ever strayed from it, she likely would have left him. Dennis has a far sterner judge in his daily life than any of his innumerable detractors, and he has passed with flying colors. Even Alison is amazed that Dennis is still alive and going as hard as ever, although she sees him as just a man. When I spent the weekend with them in 2013, on a 9,000-mile Bucket List road trip, I spent a few hours with her before Dennis got home from work, and she told me, kind of amazed herself, that Dennis was somehow still going as hard as ever, at age 67, and that his body had not failed yet. Like Brian and me, Dennis sees his body as something to get as many miles as possible from in this lifetime before it is time to move on. I have suffered the least of us three, but my journey has been anything but easy, and it has been astounding to see Dennis and Brian keep going as long as possible, as hard as their aging bodies would allow. You really had to see it to believe it. Long ago, Dennis likened his vision and fervor in his pursuit to Richard Dreyfus's character in Close Encounters building Devil's Stump in his kitchen, but Dennis had his family help him, and they did, without quite knowing what he had in mind. Alison has been with him every step of the way.

She was always number two in command at Dennis's companies, for good reason, and those of us, such as me, Mr. Professor, and others with the right stuff happily accepted that situation. Dennis had long said that Alison has had it far worse than Dennis has. Dennis at least had the highs before the lows, but Alison has been like the guy following the elephant, cleaning up after it. Again, those who saw their journey up close and personally were awestruck that they kept up at it. Dennis could easily be a millionaire many times over selling real estate, or anything, really, but instead devoted his life to following his heart and that voice in his head that he would rarely hear, but like mine, it always came at important moments. The way that that voice led me to Dennis is part of the folklore around him. Dennis thinks that he is doing God's work, and that the voice in his head is God. I won't deny it. Even if it is not God, it is divine in nature. I have no idea who that voice in my head is, but I am guessing that it is my soul, not God. Maybe it is the same way with Dennis, but who am I to know? Chasing the biggest event in the human journey might be getting help from high places. I know that thinking that way can be an ego-trap, so I keep the question open as to the identities of those voices.

One of the many ironic aspects of Alison's journey is that being number two at Dennis's companies is something the Alison never really wanted to do, but saw it as her wifely duty, and whenever we seemed to be doing well, she would ask, "Can I leave now and do what my heart calls me to do, and it is not this?" She would then try to step away, and the inevitable crises would bring her right back into the fray. In ways, her journey has been even more incredible than Dennis's.

When I saw her in 2013, Dennis had been legally enjoined from ever doing business in the USA again, and Alison always knew how fraudulent the attacks from the establishment were, and tangling with her was always something that the establishment gangsters never anticipated, and she made their lives miserable as they tried to frame Dennis for crimes, etc. Not only was she protecting her husband, she knew the truth and easily saw through the lies that they elaborately concocted. Because Dennis was no longer mounting some kind of crusade, Alison was pursing her interests, and they have always been of the Florence Nightingale variety, working with abused children, the homeless, and the like. At their home, she pointed to some Christian artwork on the walls, which had been made by one of her pen pals. He was a Mexican-American who had been kangarooed the entire way from the streets of Los Angeles to the SHU at Pelican Bay, which is one of Earth's most notorious places, in The Land of the Free. That inmate used his food and commissary items to make the materials for his artwork, and the one I recall best on their wall was Jesus during his trials before his death. For an innocent man at the SHU, it was an apt subject. Of course, Alison knows all about innocent people behind bars in California.

She and Dennis had three children together, with the son dying of crib death. Alison and Dennis's first grandson carries the same name, and I met him when I was there. I am Uncle Wade to Alison and Dennis's daughters, and spending the afternoon with one daughter's brood, while Alison and Dennis played grandparents, was not only the highlight of my trip, but one of the golden moments that I will take to my grave.

It has been an immense honor to know Dennis, but that also goes for Alison. I never met anybody like Dennis, but I also never met anybody like Alison.

Best,

Wade

[Nine]

Hi Wade,

Thanks for your admonition upon conspiracy.

Very much appreciated and very much taken to heart...

being a human being seems to be a balance between what one needs and wants...like say you have a family that needs some bucks to live...and I would simply say that that is the life of scarcity and abundance is no where to even be imagined in a picture such as that...

I read the transcripts of your interview with cassidy and the Brian O stuff....

He seems to think that if we only think that it is possible that it could really happen...

and a place to discuss it...

i am so thankful for project Avalon...

thanx

Nine

they should put a focking statue of him on capital hill...as it were...

[Wade Frazier]

Hi Nine:

The conspiracist rabbit hole is one of the easiest to disappear down. Your post is synchronistic, as I just began writing a vignette about Gary Wean, and he went deeply down that rabbit hole, but for good reason, unlike armchair conspiracists. I am going to also post something a little ahead of my plans, and let Avalon know of my first choir member, other than Ilie, has joined my forum. Darren Geffert is Kudzy At Avalon, and he has his own thread at my forum for now, and had made the first of several posts at my forum, and the rest should be going up today or tomorrow, and they will link back to his first one, and they will all form a pretty good picture of who Darren is and why he is just the kind of person that I seek for my choir. People like Darren will be "bait" for others like him, as they will recognize themselves in his posts. You can also see Darren write about his days going down the conspiracist rabbit hole. It is part of the awakening process, and part of my job is to help people not get lost in that rabbit hole, because it can be seductive. Conspiracies most definitely exist, and I have borne the brunt of them more than once. But the power really is with us, not the "bad guys" and their mischief.

Brian O was truly a great man, whose life was shortened by his adventures. It was a great honor to carry his spears. If there were a hundred like Brian on the planet and they combined their efforts, the world would have had FE long ago.

Back to writing about Gary…

Best,

Wade

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

I could write so many vignettes, on all the various players, and what I learned from each of them. This will be another uplifting one, kind of. It will be about Gary Wean, whose help was instrumental in me busting Dennis out of jail, with Mr. Professor's help.

When Mr. Deputy made faces at me on the witness stand, and interacting with his sidekick (with his new promotion) and the cub reporter from the local paper that my mother worked at, while the prosecutor and judge stood by and did their best to ignore it (nobody could fail to notice it), it was the turning point of my life, when I finally woke up, as I had my face rubbed in evil. After a month where I saw myself killing people, which was the lowest point of my life, I decided that I would do whatever I could to rescue Dennis. I no longer cared about our dead business or saving the world; I just wanted to save Dennis.

I was still young, even if not so naïve anymore, but I had no experience with taking on the level of evil that I had just witnessed. The police, prosecutors, judges, local newspaper, and the like were all in on it, all playing their parts, and eagerly, in the charade. Godzilla likely greased a few palms to get the ball rolling (my guess is that when that CIA man visited Dennis a few weeks before his arrest, he also greased palms on that trip), but people like them lined up with their hands out.

I would have camped on a senator's doorstep, if that is what I took, and one day in January 1989, I went over the Mr. Professor's house and asked Dennis's wife about what I could do. She handed me Gary's book, and said that it would be a good start. Gary's book made for terrifying reading at that stage of my life. Gary named names, and some of the names were parents of people that I grew up with, and one of them is the only person that I keep in touch with from my childhood. One murder of a lawyer happened only a few blocks from where I once lived, and for some of the events that Gary wrote about, I had already come to believe something along the lines that I eventually read in Gary's book. Ventura County regularly makes the top-ten list of the most corrupt counties in the USA, and even has made number one at times, but I did not know how bad it really was when I drove the truck into Ventura from Boston, and moving our company to Ventura sure was not my idea. I had left Southern California the previous year, vowing to never live there again. Never say never, but wild horses could not drag me back there today.

After reading pretty big chunks of Gary's book, I asked Dennis's wife for a way to contact Gary, and she gave me his home phone number. When I called, Gary's wife answered, and she was initially very brusque, which was very understandable, as I later realized, for somebody calling out of the blue like I did. But after I identified myself as Dennis's partner, she was very friendly, and the same day, Gary went out of his way to meet with me, and that evening, we met at a donut shop across the street from the County Courthouse and the jail where Dennis was locked up and enjoying solitary confinement, courtesy of Mr. Deputy, for daring to throw a Christmas party for his inmates. Mr. Deputy was almost like some parody of evil, he was so far over the line.

When I met with Gary, I began with asking where in the USA I could go, to get some authorities to intervene in the events in Ventura, and Gary proceeded to give me the best advice that he could, which was instrumental in my busting Dennis out of jail. Gary essentially said that the American system was evil, from top to bottom, from coast to coast. As spectacular as Dennis's treatment was, it was happening all over the USA, and the evil was endemic. Gary said that there was no authority that would intervene in Ventura. They were all in the same club. Gary said that their plans were for Dennis to spend at least 20 years behind bars, if he survived the experience, and he would serve as an instructive lesson to anybody else who thought that they were going to change the energy paradigm. Gary said that the only reason why he was still alive was that he never broke the law, not matter how minor, as any violation would be an excuse to kill him. Gary had been fighting against the gangsters who ran Ventura County for years, and the head gangsters were the judges on the Superior Court. That is why Ventura County makes those top-ten lists of the most corrupt. It was not many years later that Gary was run out of California himself, and he died destitute in Oregon in about 2004.

While meeting with Gary, he said that my only chance to do some damage on Dennis's behalf was to file lawsuits against the county, as he had been doing. While it was impressive, to say the least, to be sitting there listening to Gary, we had already filed lawsuits for violations of our civil rights in the raid, and they were dismissed the week before Dennis was arrested. Taking on the gangsters in their own court sure seemed like a faint chance to me, but it got me thinking hard. After a couple of hours at that donut shop, we left, and Gary came by my house so that I could give him my lawsuit. The intention was so that he could copy it, but I think that I never saw it again. I never saw Gary again, either, although we kept in touch and I called him periodically. He wanted to come to Seattle and see me a few years before he died, but the stars did not line up, and I am a little sad to this day that we did not meet again.

In the farce that was the preliminary hearing, they were portraying Dennis as some kind of con man with no viable technologies for sale or that he was developing. It was very educational to see kangaroo court in action. Dennis sold the best heating system that has ever been on the world market, with a mountain of performance data for it, and they were able to keep all of that out of court, by lies and threats, to test labs, world-class experts, and the like, and then they paraded plants and dupes onto the stand. I was beginning to understand how evil worked.

After a month of digesting Gary's sobering news, I decided on a strategy that seemed like it would give Dennis nothing more than a sliver of hope, but it was the only hope that I saw. I decided to approach Mr. Professor and ask him to mortgage his home and lend me $50,000 for Dennis's defense, mainly to bring in experts from outside the long reach of the Ventura County gangsters, and if they could convincingly make the case that Dennis's heat pump was legitimate, they were going to have a hard time making their fraud charges stick, which was the only chance that they had of putting Dennis away for 20-40 years or so. Putting him away for life for failing to file a form was going be a bit of a stretch, even for them.

Mr. Professor and his wife agreed to loan me the money, in a Saturday meeting in his office, across the street from the county courthouse and jail. I knew then that I had sacrificed my life, to only give Dennis a slightly better chance of living to see this side of the bars again. It was the ultimate quixotic gesture, but I had to do something. Six weeks after my quixotic gesture, Dennis was out of jail, in the biggest miracle that I ever witnessed. Dennis, I, and everybody close to the situation knew that it was an instance of divine intervention. It looked like the evil-minded ones, with innumerable accomplices and the rest being cowards, had it all locked up, but a handful of us stood up to evil and prevailed, sort of. Dennis still ended up spending two years behind bars for failing to file that form, and the prison officials kept setting up Dennis to be murdered by his inmates, and they nearly succeeded, but Dennis got "lucky" and only had some fingers broken and teeth knocked out. My life was destroyed by what happened in Ventura, and I have been paying for it to this day, and will for the rest of my life, and those events wrecked and shortened Mr. Professor's life, which devastated me.

But we did stop the process from putting Dennis away for life, and he lived to try another day, and Mr. Deputy even hid in his house for months to avoid going on the witness stand, to answer for his crimes. It was almost fun for a time. Gary played a very important role in that series of events, and for that, he will have my eternal gratitude. Gary was one of the good guys, and came from the old school of law enforcement, as he believed that fair laws honestly enforced made the world a better place. I have to go to work now, and a 70-hour week awaits me, but my writings on Gary are not finished. I'll make another post or two on him soon.

Best,

Wade

[Melinda]

Posted by Wade Frazier (here)
...Darren Geffert is Kudzy At Avalon, and he has his own thread at my forum for now, and had made the first of several posts at my forum, and the rest should be going up today or tomorrow, and they will link back to his first one...

Really enjoyed your 2 posts Darren, especially the first that gives insight into how and why you live how you do and have come to your interest in FE.

An inspiring, lucid, and comprehensive perspective. A joy to read

Looking forward, at some future point, to reading the text at some of the links you've yet to include.

[Wade Frazier]

Hi:

OK, more on Gary's journey. If you ever saw the movie LA Confidential, you got a taste of the milieu that Gary worked in. That movie was nearly a biography of Gary's life. That scene where Lana Turner threw that drink at that cop was close to Gary's life. Dealing with the escapades of celebrities, politicians, and gangsters was Gary's job. His story of Mickey Cohen and the racetrack is amazing and amusing, and shows how rigged the system is. During that racing season, Gary noted a VIP with Cohen, and Gary met him the next year at a restaurant where Gary surveilled Cohen, and the man introduced himself as Jack Ruby. Ruby was not the two-bit hood that the Warren Commission portrayed him as. He was high in the mob's hierarchy, and his murder of Oswald was part of a high-level "clean up" operation to cover up the trail to Jack Kennedy's murderers. It was not Oswald. He was a disposable covert action asset, like a close relative was. It is a typical fate of CIA contract agents. I read that section of Gary's book before meeting him, and after meeting Gary, I began to study the JFK assassination. Twelve years later, I finally went public with my thoughts on it. I never saw a convincing piece of evidence falsify Gary's tale of meeting with John Tower, Bill Decker, and Audie Murphy in December 1963, and over the years, impressive evidence kept coming to light that further confirmed its authenticity, such as the Operation Northwoods documents. The JFK researcher community was impressed in 2013 when, for the first time, the Kennedy family came forward and said that they never believed the Warren Commission's findings, which also means that they do not believe the "lone nut" story of Bobby Kennedy's murder. Fear kept them silent for 50 years.

The head of state was murdered in front of hundreds of witnesses in broad daylight, and it was all covered up. Assassinating political figures then became the sport of spooks in the USA for a generation. Those were also the years when being an FE inventor was particularly hazardous to one's health. Of course, while my great nation was in the midst of murdering millions of people in Southeast Asia, bumping off politicians and others who got in the way was small beer. We had mass murder operations in Southeast Asia, and I know people who were involved in such operations. The USA had similar murder operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, which led to the rise of ISIS. The recent "revelation" of the USA's torture programs was no surprise to people like me. The USA has long been terror and torture central, while portraying itself as The Land of the Free. All presidents since Jack Kennedy knew that they were puppets. In that light, Dennis spending two years behind bars because he threatened to upend the global power structure with FE technology is small stuff, just a day at the office.

Gary ran afoul of Jewish organized crime, of which Mickey Cohen and Jack Ruby were just the tip of the iceberg. They nearly murdered Gary when he began fouling up their plans to raid the public coffers. Gary's experiences with the Jewish gangsters mirrored my own encounters with people such as Mr. Deputy and what I have read about other gangsters. Not only do people such as Mr. Deputy, Mr. Texas, and others have the overgrown Boy Scout act down, but Gary's biggest problems became gangsters who were judges in the local, state, and federal courts. The Ninth District Federal Court, based in California, is the most corrupt in the USA, and that is saying something. Mr. Big Time Attorney (the subject of my next vignettes after I finish with Gary) discovered that the hard way. Of the judges that ruined Gary's life, the most notable sits on the federal bench today in his 90s and is a noted "liberal" judge. That "liberal" judge posture is a variation of that overgrown Boy Scout shtick, and is great cover for gangster activities. Mr. Deputy is involved in "charitable" activities today, as is the pinch-hitter for the AG's office, where she works to this day. "Philanthropy" is one of the greatest rackets on Earth. The gangsters that ran Dennis out of his home state are still active here, and I saw one of the ringleaders on TV not long ago, which is one reason why I turn down all public speaking opportunities in my home state. Another activity that Gary wrote about, which I also have seen in my life, is that when they target you for neutralization, and by murder often enough, they actually meet with you and really lay on the "love," treating you like a long-lost son. They take you out soon afterward, and while spending too much time trying to figure out the dark side can be hazardous to one's spirit and sanity, that "last party" seems to be a dark pather trick, giving their target some "love" just before taking them out. I doubt that it is giving their targets some moment of grace, but the dark pathers get off on it, as well as it perhaps giving them an alibi.

Gary ran afoul of those gangsters early in his career, just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which was why he initially moved from LA to Ventura County. Gary was a policeman and investigator, so "solving the crime" was his profession, and that is where Gary got into conspiracism, which is an understandable hazard of the field. I am going to save that for the next post, however, as it will cover a bit of territory. Whatever Gary said that he witnessed, I have no doubts about. His reconstructions and theorizing were different matters.

Best,

Wade

[Nine]

Dearest Wade,

I am so glad that you have your choir going..

I learned about the gangsters at USPS as an employee and am still terrified of these people..

they killed people that I knew...

no one was ever prosecuted or punished...

after 9/11 hell started upon our loading docs...

no answers nor any punishments nor any one held to account ..as it were...

i simply understand how the game is played...

Hopefully, we can change the game by simply thinking about the possibilities...I mean the tech is there and has been for years..just to think about a life of prosperity and free heat and energy for our vehicles and how every thing would change...

The system would say ...not a chance...in hell... of that happening...

It is a choice of changing the energy dynamic or Parrishing as a species Wade as your dear Trilobites did millions of years ago...

Thanx

Nine

[Wade Frazier]

Hi Nine:

Well, that "choir" is pretty small for now, but it is about the notes, not the numbers. Darren hit some high notes and is helping establish the kind of singing that I am looking for. Yes, if the so-called gangsters keep calling the shots, because the rest of us are asleep, and they take out whoever might help change the course (Dennis, Brian, etc.), then yes, we are going the way of my beloved trilobites. Psychopaths running the show is obviously a path to catastrophe. They crave power, however, in their spiritual infantilism that is like a child in its terrible twosies. They will crash the planet if they have their way. But the problem really is us, not them. The masses stampede in any direction that the social managers point them, and to certain death often enough, which boggled my mind when I first saw it. According to sources that I respect, a third of the time, an ensouled species at our stage indeed goes the way of trilobites.

I do not know if what I am trying to get going is the critical missing piece or "just" something that can help along the vibe so that FE can manifest, but it can't hurt.

Best,

Wade