this is a sample from my book "Am I An Alien?" free to read online...
Ok, so now I am telling you that I sent these letters and suddenly I am being followed around as a possibly involved criminal right, and then I seem to come under greater scrutiny for other possible reasons. And here it is, and this is the game, the real spy game, when a real spy is identified this is what is done to them. Pressure slowly applied, until they are terrified, and in the end, if they are an authentic spy, they will make a break for it, either to avoid arrest or to avoid assassination. It is a very old tactic and it works, the subject runs, and where does he run? He runs to his contacts, his controllers or anyone he can think of, including sleeper spies, and in doing this, it is hoped, he will screw up all kinds of other operations by giving them away.
Two questions arise from the average person in this regard, first, what if the person is uninvolved, or innocent? And the other question, of much greater significance, what is it they do that is so God dam scary?
First, if you are innocent, here is the idea put forth, no one is innocent and it is said that if you go and report to the FBI what is happening, you will in fact, initiate an open and official dialog, and that will lead to this; we are conducting a massive investigation of you, because of x, y, and z and they will indict you and prosecute you. Oh yes my friends, if you are under the gun, they tell you, just let them finish their inspection, don’t go and say anything, that would be bad, just wait it out, it will end in a few days. And a few days go by and a few more and a week or two, and I will tell you, the innocent never make very far, they will break, and that’s the design, they will break you and the game ends then. The innocent person will break 99% of the time, or will leave town and run away to another state where they have no connections, or worse yet, back to their family, and that too is the end of the game. Many of the innocent will spend time in mental hospitals after they ‘break’, but some will die accidental deaths running away. Some throw bricks at the ‘little white cars following them everywhere’, that’s an automatic 51/50, meaning three days in the nuthouse. But if you are strong and if you do last, this is of special interest to these people, and they will turn up the heat more and more, and if you are clever and if you are very strong, and if you can last for a few months of this living hell, well then my friends it is just quite likely that you may have found a new profession, for this, is indeed, one of the many ways, our clandestine services finds it’s new employees. If you can by the will of God and sheer personal strength outlast those fuckers, they will offer you a job. How do you like that one? It’s said the Secret Service doesn’t hire applicants, you know.
Yes, if you last a week, well forget it. If you last two and do something creative, well maybe they will consider you, if you last three or four weeks, you are in. Should you prove to be special and last longer, or as they hope, until the bitter end, you will have a job with rank and will be considered special. The ultimate agent in the clandestine services is not going to bend from psychological pressure, or at least he will maintain his sanity and his focus during this pressure.
But what of all your friends and neighbors and all kinds of other non-involved civilians, I mean, they will all play a role so well, you might think they must all be involved, and they are, but how? The CIA or whoever is operating simply goes to them and says that you have joined them already and the old ugly word ‘training’ raises it’s head, just as it did for me, later in Alameda.
The second question was, what is it they do that is so scary? Well my friends, this is the part which is hard to believe, and I hesitate to say, but I will, if only for those who are now, or soon, to be forced to run this gauntlet. Though it is scientifically impossible to induce paranoid schizophrenia, it is the sheer terror of such an attempt that is the aim. They will work your environment so that, what you might say they are doing, is complete madness, complete utter madness. Say you have a confidant, a friend they cannot approach, and you confide you are in big trouble. The first week, you are being followed around by a few cars, well ok, that’s possible. But over the following days the things they do will mimic what an insane person sees or experiences. You tell your friend a lot more people are following you around, and today as you walked through downtown, every third person said the word “Chomp” to you, but not looking at you, rather, just under their breath, so only you could hear it. Well, how many people are we talking about, asks your friend, and you tell him maybe two hundred and your friend no longer worries about the government, he worries about your sanity. And what I found especially annoying and utterly ridiculous is that I would try to lure them into a trap where I could show them to a friend, and they knew what I was doing. If I went over to my buddies place, maybe twenty black cars or the little white ones would all be following me, and as soon as I got there, they would all speed away. I would try and get my friends to run around the corner with me so they could see these people, but it was impossible. Not always, they do screw up and in the end of the game, it’s pretty easy to get people to see them.
Your up late one night, and your listening to the radio, and your thinking, what should I do? And the radio announcer says in the background “this next song is dedicated to our victim of the day, Andrew” and you would as I did, perk up and think what did he say? And over the next few weeks it will always be like that, even the songs played will not be the authentic songs. It’s quiet simple, jam the local frequency and overplay, that’s all, and I do believe such a tactic can be done on a single radio. Now you try and tell someone that and see what they say?
They did all that to me, and I really got scared and I started to wonder, does the government do things like this, is such a thing really possible? Am I losing my mind? And here is the next stage of the game, they introduce the concept of a mystery group, a group which is after you, and for what? And who are they? They will bring this into your environment through an old method called street theater. What is that? Well, you go along, you drive over to your bank, and you park in the back, and as you get out, an old homeless person is in the lot talking to themselves, and what they say, it’s for you, it’s talking about whatever they’ve been doing to you, it’s what’s happening in your life, and they will do this anytime they need to talk to you or send you a message. Outside the bank, a husband and wife are arguing and the man say’s “You better listen to me, you better do what I tell you, I am not the government here, I am someone else, I am with you and I am on your side.” The wife screams back “No, I won’t do what you say, I will never join you, I will never work for you.” And the police will come along to break up a fight which just appears normal to all those watching, but you stay and look at them from a distance, and they will turn and wink at you, and can it be real?
I suffered this sort of gross abuse for the first month and then Ruebin and a whole gang of people got arrested by the FBI, it was on TV. All my friends also got arrested on petty warrants or no reason at all, and what I heard was ‘Andrew, are you involved in something?’ And everyone I knew started asking me weird questions and I told them no I didn’t do anything, but people were following me around and broadcasting onto my radio and well, that generally was the end of those conversations, you know. Ruebin was arrested in a major FBI operation which was looking into a group of people who were robbing mailboxes, and I mean the ones on the street, you know, collection boxes. He had been making keys to them and was part of a giant ring. Wow man, I couldn’t believe it, he was done for. And you know what really troubled me even more? He was released the next day and everyone said it was a big mistake, and that day the Machine got really heavy on me. I could only imagine what he had told these people, but imagine I did, and things got bad for me, they were everywhere and they were not being nice, no not at all.
They did all kinds of things to me, from the mundane, to the extreme, they were always there, mocking me, and terrorizing me. From the radio game, to following me, to all kinds of street theater, they did things that are only limited by the human imagination, and all of it breaks the law. You can never believe, they had hundreds of people involved in this game. At the time, I wondered how they could afford it, and I came to think it was all a massive investigation I had triggered with my letters. Of course they made mistakes, it is a rule of human engineering, there will be mistakes. One of the things they did, was to bang my floor with a hammer, from underneath, in the subfloor. At first I had thought it was a loose water pipe, you know how they might bang back and forth. It was not, it was an instrument of terror, and if I banged back, they banged faster and harder. I was surprised by this insanity, but it did match the game plan presented in the book perfectly and so I didn’t respond to it (yes, there is a book, someone wrote, I’ll get to that in a minute). Anyway, I used to just sit there wishing I had a pistol and could shoot through the floor, killing whoever was down there. Of course armed people are treated differently, or just disarmed. It was my next door neighbor who ended that particular harassment, he was a drunk and not really privy to what was going on, so he broke it down for me one night. I had arrived home at two am and I sat there on my couch looking at the floor thinking of who was under there banging on my floor and other things, when all of a sudden my next door neighbor screamed and picked up some heavy object and started banging back on the floor. He screamed “I’m sick of it, I won’t take it anymore, knock it off or I’ll kill you! I know you’re down there! Stop! Stop! Stop! I’ll kill you!” The banging stopped at once and never came back. That would be considered a break, and he wasn’t even their target.
Three critical things contributed to my endurance in this terrible time. The first thing was that I had read a book once, a special book about conspiracies, a book, which when I read it, I assumed was a joke, as it had apparently been written to appear, but it was not a joke, it was a description of all that was happening to me. The book talked about the method of the Machine and how it attacks it’s targets and forces them to join them or else…the book said that the system of attack is to attempt to induce paranoid schizophrenia in the subject which breaks them down. And while I endured those first few weeks and I watched them do all the things they did, I realized something, that book was not just a joke, it was a counter manual, written to help poor victims in this crisis, to help them know at least the truth of what was happening, it exposed the enemies game plan. Or if not to help the victims, to screw up the attackers. And I will tell you the name of that book, and you won’t believe it, that is the Illuminatus Trilogy by Robert Anton Wilson, and that saved my life, at least in part. The second thing that saved my life was my training I had received in the Movement, I can’t explain all I learned there without writing a few other books, but the things I learned, gave me the ability to focus my mind and deal with the reality before me, no matter how terrible or how impossible it was, the training I received gave me an iron will that these men could never break.
The third thing was, when I was confused as to if this was a government operation or now involved some mythical secret society or even ‘The Great Satanic Conspiracy’, I got up my courage and I did something very creative. I will recommend it to you right here, if you ever find yourself at odds with the US government, never forget to perform your own counterintelligence. Believe it or not, our government has very little in the way of such protections and when it comes to the individual target, it is really easy to gather all kinds of vital information that you may want or need.
And so there I was, the victim of some kind of giant coordinated conspiracy, which grew with each passing day. The tactics they used were terrifying and senseless. I would stroll down the street and strangers would point and laugh at me and mean it! These strangers would threaten me and yell at me for no good reason at all. One trick they liked to do was the gas station trick, where I would pull up to a pump and two things would happen, first totally out of nowhere a guy would pull up and inform me very rudely, that he had been at that pump first and he wanted to use it, I was his way. At the same time a homeless person would begin aggressively asking me for money and at the same time a couple would walk along the sidewalk having a furious argument saying they would kill each other. I would look at all this and then the guy who wanted my pump would ask me “Hey man, what’s your fucking problem?” And then the couple who had been arguing on the sidewalk would scurry past me with the woman mumbling something about someone being an asshole and the guy would be in hot pursuit. She would give me a mean look as she past, and by mean, I do not mean impolite, I mean, one of murder. Her boyfriend would stop as he past and say, “What’s up man, you got a problem with my fucking girlfriend, huh? Hey, I’m talking to you asshole!” The homeless man would step back and call me a “fucking dick” and immediately ask someone else for money in a much more subtle way, however both the men would say, “Did you just call me a fucking dick?” It was terrifying, and it was obviously coordinated, and so what do you do? You flee in terror, while these other people would just shake their heads, like you were some aggressive jerk who had been picking fights with everyone, and yet, you hadn’t even said a single word. Off you would go to the next gas station, where it was the same, and again and again, occasionally they would even use the exact same people.
I went into a liquor store near my home and bought a diet Pepsi and the man behind the counter was so friendly, but I had never seen him before, and he mentions at some point to someone that he had owned the place for twenty years. He puts my change on the counter and it’s fifty three cents, and I reach for it, and he say’s “oops” and pulls away a quarter. So, we kind of have a little discussion about the correct change and he says I gave it to you and then scoops the rest of the change back off the counter, with a big smile. OK, it’s a freak incident, and the next place, a seven eleven two days later, it’s the same guy, and he does the same thing. You get the idea.
I couldn’t hardly believe that our government would engage in such a thing, and that too is their game, so I had to find out, was this really a solid government operation, or were there others involved. And this is the worst part of course, they behave in such an insane manner, that you just aren’t sure, I mean, what did I really know about the way our world works? But, I wasn’t really falling for their big scam, and I could tell, I mean who can do such a thing as this and get away with it? The people who control our society of course and they work through our government, period. It had been nine and a half weeks of increasingly hostile and bizarre behavior from this unknown group against me, and where I had at first thought, I must be about to be arrested, I passed that stage into the one where I knew that it was a game of some kind, but perhaps a lethal one. They were doing more and more odd things and from the book I had read before, I knew this was their game, but there was one thing I still needed to know for certain, who were they? Was this a pure government action or had they turned me over to some other group whose purpose I could only imagine?
So one day, I mustered up all my courage and decided I certainly could at least find their source, I could follow them back to their ‘base’ wherever that may have been, and so I did. I watched those who were coming, and those who were going, the people on ‘duty’ would circle the block, give me the middle finger and otherwise pay me very close attention, but I also saw the ones who were leaving, and there were so many, all I had to do was to head in the general direction they were going and they would lead me to their home. I followed them, with out looking to much, not that it would have mattered due to the simple fact, that no one, almost no one ever performs their own counterintelligence work. I followed them downtown, and I knew where they were heading, or so I thought and I knew what I had to do, I had to get close to the federal building without them knowing I was watching them, and I am quite proud to tell you, I was very successful in doing just that and it was more successful than I could have ever hoped.
I headed to my favorite little restaurant, which was perfectly normal, in the eyes of the Machine, but when I got there I made it appear as though I were in deep thought, and so I headed over two blocks to the police station and asked the officers where the traffic court building was. OK, so you see they knew what I was doing there, they knew it was all within the possible confines of my world, because I had a traffic ticket coming due or, I confess, maybe it was past due. The cops outside told me, “Well, that’s the court building right over there, across the street” and that brought me within two blocks of the federal building in Oakland. The court was closed, but the office was open and if you wanted to could speak to a clerk, which I then stood in line to do. The office had a wall of windows which faced East and I casually turned and could see the federal building, for at that time, they were doing construction on the block between the court and the federal building and had completely cleared the lot of everything. My view was unobstructed, and I did see their little white cars coming and going from the buildings subterranean parking lot, but I had to be careful, for if they knew what I was doing, they would tell each other and the area would be cleared and I would lose this chance, probably forever. As I waited my turn the number of people in the room doubled and the guards at the front door became irritated at all of the sudden traffic and said over and over “The court is closed you can’t even make an appointment and we will be closing the building in ten minutes.” They watched in astonishment as their lobby filled with members of my conspiracy and I suppose on some level, they must have understood something. All I did was get up the window and argue with the clerk, I said I wanted to go to court right then, and she informed me Oakland had no night court and that I would have to go back tomorrow morning. I asked her whatever I could think that she would say no to, and I showed irritation and hostility, and finally I coalesced and left in what might have appeared to have been a controlled fuming anger. I walked past the guards and turned East and walked aimlessly, or so it may have appeared. I walked two very short blocks and I stopped. For directly across the street was the complex of federal building, and I do believe that where I stood were the entrances and exits for all, of it’s official parking. I stood on that corner, some fifty feet from the edifice of the Machine itself, and I watched, for it was five pm at that, all of the personal were leaving the complex and a gang of other federal employees entering for whatever night duty they might be doing. At that point in time, I had a good four minutes of viewing before anything happened, and while I stood there, I saw all of the cars that had been following me around, and even as if a joke from God, the most horrible little ratty old two colored Chevy, a car from which an old man and a younger but still old woman had first accosted me in a parking lot near my home and then a few minutes later pulled around and offered to sell me some narcotics. That ugly joke of a Chevy came down the street and I thought, it must just be coincidence, but it was not, for they turned directly into the lot before me, and the horrible woman, who had presented herself to me earlier in the day as the dredges of society, turned to her accomplice who was driving and pointed at me, she did that just as he presented his parking pass to the guard of a federal vehicles only complex, who then opened the little riser to admit them. And in they drove, knowing full well, all I knew. I saw some people exit the side doors, which were security doors of the buildings on either side of the street, so many people came out. A group gathered on the corner directly before me, and with no knowledge of my presence, nor any concern, began chatting away. A large white Bronco, that I swore had always followed me everywhere, exited the secure lot on the left, and they all waved to the driver, who waved back and drove right past me. I saw a few white cars who were on duty following me, pull off to the side and park, as they watched me in amazement. The on duty watched the off duty give away their whole game, and some began honking and waving as if it would have mattered. One guy furiously honked and a woman looked over and in apparent recognition of him waved back, and he threw up his hands shaking in frustration. But the clincher, or perhaps the worst one, was when a young African American driving his little fed car came out of the lot and stopped to chat with those on the corner. I had seen him twice that day, he had been so nasty to me, you couldn’t imagine. I had gone over to board the Bart at the Fruitvale station and he had asked me for some spare change, he had called me a slight racial slur of ‘Whiteboy’, and had followed me past the turn styles into the station, saying “I’ll fucking kill you, you mother fucker!” I thought I had had the inopportunity to run across him again at another BART station two hours later when he came out from behind a support column with a large metal rod and then, as if by chance he had noticed me and with a look of pure hatred in his eyes, a look that I cannot believe is not real, he stepped back a bit and asked me “You looking for a problem man, You following me man?” “No, I’m not following you…” and I had to walk within six feet of him, and at the end of that brief walk he flinched on me with his metal rod, which means to say, he made a motion as if he were to strike me, and I did jump a foot or so back and turn to him. He had said “Keep fucking walking…” I knew he was the same man, for his clothes you see were identical as was everything else one may recognize, and I was so amazed, because here he was some ordinary man who had a really good job for the government and would have been held up as an example of all that one might be or expect to be in the modern middle class of America. He didn’t strike me then as the tough street thug he had earlier and as I thought ‘what sort of man could feign such nasty behavior, against an innocent citizen,’ he laughed with his middle class friends, and they talked perhaps about what restaurant they might all go have Margaritas at, and I hated that man, and he was a rather big man, but I thought, ‘why I bet I could pull him out of that car and I could kill him right then and there, and he couldn’t have done a thing to stop me.
There was a kind of commotion then as some people down the way were pointing at me, and a man in a very nice suit, with some kind of clipped on badge stuck to that very nice suit, he stepped out of the security door on the building to the left and he yelled at the small group who had terrorized me on that day, and who maybe had perhaps spent years of their careers discussing and participating in ways to stop me from living any life at all and other ways to in general destroy me, while they themselves prospered and lived happily as highly respected members of your society. They noticed me then and the man in the car looked so surprised and for a moment he put a mean look on his face and looked at me, and I almost lost my control, for this man was no thug, he was a weak man, and in that moment I could have killed him, and I guess he saw it, and perhaps he knew what I knew, and he sped away, rather fast at that, leaving his ‘friends’ to fend for themselves. They always do that, you know, leave each other behind. In retrospect, I should have gone over and killed as many as I could, but that isn’t really my way. You see, when I play a game, weather it is mine, or yours, I play to win, and win I would, and win I will.
It’s funny you know, as a small side note, all those people from those months of 1999 have their real names and their real home addresses, even of their families in the federal files, available for my circumspection on some future date yet to come. Of course, I know they will all be shredded…well, not quite…well, not at all. I knew a guy once who had taught law at a major university in South Vietnam during the sixties and early seventies, and as a part time career had worked for the secret police as a ranking officer. He told me he tortured people, and was very proud to say that he could inflict more pain than you can imagine without leaving a single mark on his victim. I asked him why he would torture people and he said that the police and the military didn’t do good work, so he often took over interrogations personally. He was a really nice guy too, and I asked him how he could do that, and he said, “I don’t know…we were at war.” I asked him if he had ever killed anybody and he said, “Yes sure…” I asked him then, but they were all guilty too right, I mean, the war and all, they were the enemy right? I remember he shook his head and said “No, they were not, and some of them were very nice, once a student of mine I liked very much found out I worked with the police and so we brought him in and I not only tortured him, but I had to kill him, so he wouldn’t tell on me.” And I asked that murderer, what then happened at the end of the war, did they burn all your files, and your IDs? And he told me, “Well, in the early seventies, we formulated a very complicated plan in the event we lost the war, and all of the files were of course to be destroyed. So, I said “You got away then?” And he told me, no, he had gone to the police station on April 30th 1975 while the Viet Cong secured Saigon and he walked to his offices and it was big mess, files were everywhere, no one had done anything other than run away, but people already been there, and what could he do, he was alone, so he went downstairs and set the building on fire and the whole thing went up. He was satisfied, but you know, it’s not your own intelligence files you see, it’s everyone else’s, the Americans, who on the same day had not only fled their embassy, but didn’t even shred anything, the French, who had done the same, the also Chinese kept good intel and on and on it goes, continuing way beyond the files of the nations but even into the files of the secret societies themselves, each and every detail is recorded by a hundred different spies, working for a hundred different organizations. They came to his door four days after the fight was over. He was the uncle of my girlfriend at that time, that is how I knew him, and he spent ten years in prison and I can’t help but think he got off light, for imagine his poor student who had done nothing at all. His best friend in the world was my girlfriends father and he too had been sentenced to ten years in prison, but he had only been a military police officer, but that was a lie and so her uncle had said to me, “He did more of course.” The Communist forces made an announcement on the radio the day after the war was over, and they repeated it, they knew everyone and if you did not turn yourself in within three days you would still be considered a combatant. There were people all over the city, even in conservative neighborhoods, the kind of people who host ‘we love George W. Bush’ parties, who came out into the streets cheering the enemy and welcoming them, and many wore uniforms of the enemy or badges or other official evidence showing they were really part of the previously secret underground. Over here we don’t hear much about that stuff, but they did all keep lists and everyone got arrested. I mean there is a lot more about that whole war that many do not know, but we don’t have the time here. Save to say one thing alone, Capitals do fall to enemy armies, and wars do happen, so do military coups and revolutions, even in America…Remember the hero of the South, President Davis? He died in prison, right? Convicted of treason. Oh well, an irrelevant moment, let’s get back to the story shall we…
If you enjoyed this bit of writing you can find the rest of my story in it's entirty here h t t p : / / www dot freewebs dot com / imandrewmurphy
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