I suppose I should write something about the lying, dishonest Mormons at Boise State University who wrecked my career.  I put almost six years into BSU (1991-1997), it was the most success I’d ever had.   And in the end, they stabbed me in the back to protect one of their own.  We lost at least $60K and they worked quickly to shield their asses from liability, get their stories consistent, etc.   Years later I learned that even the private investigator we hired was a fucking Mormon and he also lied to cover their asses.

What they don’t know is that I spent some of my stock option money on them in 2001.  I spent $2K to gather every fact on Bill Carlson and eventually I uncovered the truth.

I got his military records by impersonating him.   He had thirteen duty stations in twelve years and that’s a guy who is a problem, who is being tossed to someone else as quickly as possible.  A hot potato.

Early on I told Steve Stutz that I was suspicious of Carlson because he never drove. I got his driving history and yes, he was avoiding an Idaho driver’s license, most likely because he was being pursued.  He applied for a license immediately after I’d spoken to Stutz, so I knew then that Stutz (another fucking Mormon) betrayed me.

I got his security guard license from the State of CA.  I traced his actions and USAF discharge back to the San Diego Miramar marine base and he was most likely stationed in the Naval brig when a fire and riots broke out in 1996.   I believe he was involved in some capacity and the military discharged him to cover their liability.  He lived in Utah for a few weeks and then showed up in Boise three months before BSU asked me to come back (to fix his sabotage, as it turned out).

His father isn’t listed on his birth certificate, apparently it’s a brother or relative of his father.  (Yes, I also got his birth certificate, credit history, residence history, relatives and their residence histories which is a whole ‘nother sordid story of incest).   But his mother was the key.   Thank God for Mormon ancestry sites.  His mother was a fifth generation, direct descendant of….

can you guess it yet?

Joseph Smith, the founder and prophet of the Mormon Church.

And THAT is when it all made sense.   They fucked me to cover up the sabotage and illegal actions of an illegitimate descendant of The Prophet.   Mormons have a saying, “Do The Right Thing”.  But what nobody tells outsiders is the rest of the phrase…

“Do The Right Thing… For Other Mormons”

because the rest of us are undeserving heathens.  Of course, they did their conspiracy thing and I can’t be sure who was exactly responsible for what decisions, which is the point of the conspiracy.  The Dean and Assistant Dean resigned a couple months after I quit, Stutz had moved on but I strongly suspect there were two others involved.  I hope there is God and He judges them for their actions but I doubt I’ll ever get justice.





Dominique Redux

I think about Dominique almost every day.  Of how hard she fought cancer and for so many years.  How indomitable she was.  And how she finally caved in about three months before she died.  I imagine she was relieved when the end was in sight.

She was betrayed by her body but I don’t have that excuse.  On the other hand, I lasted fourteen years longer and I was betrayed by my fellow man, so perhaps there’s an equivalence.

I might make it to Halloween.  I’m extremely depressed now that I can’t drink anymore, the antidepressants have an effect but it’s not much.  I may last until Thanksgiving. What matters now is being part of the Social Lie and mirroring it back to other people.  It’s like watching “Invasion Of The Body Snatchers”, as more people fall into line, fearful of exposure or “being different”.  Job interviews are like dating now, about being liked, regurgitated the correct bullshit, etc, but not much about work or skill, although companies maintain that illusion.  Just more lies.

There’s so many lies now.  Companies say they value diversity but they don’t.  They value cheap, bumbling Indians. They say jobs are about skill but they’re not, they’re about being a good Yes-Man.  Women claim they’re not attracted to money but they are.  Feminists claim they’re not against sex but they poison male/female relationships by casting people into ill-fitting roles that contradict nature.  The government claims to protect us but murders 10,000 people like me each year through the increased suicide rate.  People clamor to “friend” others on LinkedIn and Facebook but know or care little about these “friends”, it’s all a social convention, a ritual, a lie.

The workplace is so much about lies now.  Nobody mentions the sabotage or ill-will, slander, gossip; they pretend it doesn’t exist but look at today’s job ads that specify “team players”.  What more do you need to see the dysfunction?   People pretend to be “team players”, engage in superficial social bullshit but secretly gang together in cliques and slander others in backhanded gossip, like a game of Survivor.

So many lies that I can’t keep track anymore.  Even as the world veered left into more lies, I turned right into less.  And that makes me too different to understand or deal with.  The irony that being honest is more of a fatal disease than being a liar.

And it’s the same with dating.

But at least dating was optional.  I doubt I can even hold a “normal” job anymore, six years of constant negativity is powerful and my desire to show up for work has been killed, just like my desire to date.  The people around me worked quite hard to kill me off (although they’ll never admit that to themselves) and will probably succeed, just like they destroyed my sister and, to some extent, my brother in Seattle.  This is an evil country which wears a happy face.

Actions speak louder than words and I have the past seven years of actions by employers and “normal” people; three thousand job applications read by at least six thousand people; the sabotage, disrespect and schemes at each job; and twenty-five years of working my ass off as proof.   America is the biggest lie of the 21st century.  No words will change this.


In 1990 I left Los Angeles at the age of 32.  I’ve never regretted it.  At the time, it wasn’t that L.A. was so bad, but that the trendline wasn’t positive.  I left just as the 1990s real estate crash started and I have friends who were wiped out by the successive crashes of 1990, 2001 and 2008.

I don’t have positive feelings about L.A. and I have similar feelings about the United States now. It’s not that it’s completely evil yet but that the trendline isn’t positive.  The current movies are more eloquent than me – Hunger Games, The Giver, Divergent, The Purge – they depict an evil United States which seems benevolent but squashes independence through death and intimidation.  And over the past few years I’ve seen that in the job and dating markets.

Today Bill Murray had a sarcastic commentary on a Ghostbusters remake and realized how much contempt he has for the movie industry.  I saw similar behavior from Val Kilmer several years ago.  I don’t have that much contempt for my industry but I have some.  The stupidity has grown over the past few years and I understand why; the recession, unemployment, the desperation of marginal performers.  But still… it’s just been too much now.  It’s all so dysfunctional.

I’d like to accomplish more career-wise and maybe one or two more relationships like Janet.  Bree is an interesting woman but she’s too young, too immature and insecure. But  I rarely find anyone that draws me so she’s unusual.

Death per se doesn’t bother me a lot.  Pain does but part of me is tired of living in limbo year after year. I have so much free time with nothing I care about except sex or work but no sex or work to fill it.  I’m not suited to hobbies but my mother never understood that.  I think it’s part of the Autistic Spectrum Syndrome.  I only have a couple of singular obsessions in life, the current ones being software and sex.  In previous years it was electronics and sex, or guns and sex, or the Internet and sex.  🙂

Positive things – I’m bicycling five to ten miles per day now, I’m at my lowest weight and best physical shape in 25+ years.  My nose is fixed.  Cutting out carbs reduced my weight, psoriasis and digestion problems. I’m getting decent but infrequent job interviews.  I have enough money to last until New Years.  I don’t care much about the Denver DUI or their lies.

Negative things – I’m a discordant element in the Denver system, as usual.  Many more lies and I wonder… no, I think that The Path led me to the DUI for a reason.  To see another aspect of modern deception and its toll on people.  Perhaps to reset me for the end of The Path (or the next leg, but I hope not).

I never saw physical signs until last year and there was another last week.  As I bicycled home from the bus station at 2am, I stopped at Walmart for ice cream.  I walked out and my path was blocked by flashing police lights.  I bicycled nearer and saw a drunk driving accident which must have happened while I was in Walmart.  The bicycle path was blocked by an overturned car and smashed lamppost so I detoured around.  Now each day I pass the remains of that accident.  What are the odds on a Wednesday at 2 am of a drunk driving crash exactly in my bicycle path, in a time frame of fifteen minutes?  I don’t see how it can be coincidence, especially in light of the other coincidences this past year.





The Hollow World

I was mildly annoyed until I got to the hearing and then surprisingly calm.   The officer revoking my license went through the hurly-burly of official procedure, studiously reading through pages of small text which he’d undoubtedly already read, scatching pencil marks and cross-referencing his screen, making quite a production of the process.

I almost smiled. 🙂

But I felt badly for him, too.  He seemed so hollow.  Consensual authority has no need to parade its credentials over and over.  That is the Truth of Lies.  Lies hollow out all things over time, leaving them ever more false and fragile.

I walked into my apartment, drank a bottle of water and realized…   I felt no anger at all.   I’m not sure why.  Perhaps it’s the anti-depressants.   Still, it seemed very odd.

Then I walked down to Walmart and bought a bicycle.  🙂


The Path


This is The Path.

The red lines are where I traveled from Feb, 2004 until now, after Dominique cut me free of Phoenix, material possessions and my ex-wife.  I’ve traveled cross-country seven times across the United States:

1) Phoenix -> Portland  (2004), Portland -> NYC (2005)

2) NYC -> Charlotte -> Phoenix -> Seattle (2006)

3) Seattle -> Miami (2007)

4) Miami -> Seattle (2007)

5) Seattle -> Hartford, CT (2011)

6) Hartford, CT -> Los Angeles -> Seattle (2011)

7) Seattle -> Washington, DC (2012)

#8 still in process: Washington, DC -> Denver (2013)

I don’t understand The Path but started on it in 2004 and didn’t name it “The Path” until 2008, when I finally grasped some of its nature.  Simultaneously, I took up drinking because I can sometimes invoke my alter ego, which I believe is the source of my visions.

In 2010, I realized The Path had taken on a life of its own.  I rarely had a choice in where I went.  For instance, I had no desire to travel from Seattle to Hartford, CT in 2010 and kept wishing for another offer even as I was driving cross-country through Kansas.  Likewise, the trip back to D.C. was after four months of fruitless job searching in Seattle.

My only choice was in 2010 after I received three job offers in the same week.  That never happened again.  I had no choice about Denver in 2013 and not much choice from 2008 until that week in 2010.



It’s strange I wrote so little about Dominique in 2013.  She was a major influence and I wonder why  I didn’t.  Am I more clear-headed now?   More retrospective?

My visions began around the time I found Dominique on LiveJournal (2000). My first vision was how to crash Saleslogix (my employer at the time) and details are in my 2006 DEFCON presentation, available online if you care.  I’ve had nine or ten visions and thought my mind was processing information in a different way until 2009.

In Sept of 2009, I had daily visions of the Lakewood, WA police shooting which occurred in November.   The visions were vivid and in the first person.  I saw myself enter a coffee shop (Starbucks, not the minor chain of the real event) and shoot four male policeman in the head.  Rarely it was five men but never a woman like the real event.   Sometimes I had a Glock, sometimes a revolver and the real shooter had both.   This vision lasted until shortly before the real event and repeated over one hundred times.  All my other visions were a one-time occurrence.

I searched for a rational explanation after the shooting.  Perhaps we’d both read of a similar event but I couldn’t find one.  To my knowledge, the Lakewood shootings are unique in US history.  Perhaps we’d watched the same movie or been subjected to a subliminal internet broadcast but Clemmons (the shooter) was jailed in May and I don’t own a television.

I put it aside until last year when I looked up his history and was surprised.  He, too, started having apocalyptic visions just before his arrest.  Something happened to him, he’d had a stable life for five years after a lifetime of small-time crime and no history of visions or mental illness.

Last year I wrote a semantic analysis model which uses thirteen ratios of word type/count to determine the state and direction of personal relationships.  It suddenly sprang into my mind during Thanksgiving as I drove to Kansas City.   I scribbled it down when I reached my motel and later wrote a more formal document.   For weeks I wasn’t sure but now I think that it, too, was a vision.

Most of my visions were work-oriented and more of a guide than a prophecy, laying out a path of action which I could take if I wanted to.   I’ve only had one personal vision, of a waitress with deep personal problems.  She changed in front of me, aging fifteen or twenty years, turning serene and happy with her problems resolved.

I had a strange series of events when I came to Denver.  Normally, I’d brush them off as chance but…    I’ve only had one physical sign, also in 2009 and immediately after the Lakewood visions.  I left my girlfriend’s apartment at 2 am and drove along Alki Beach, where a white dove suddenly shot out from the brush and hit my driver-side mirror.  A month later I was driving to Portland and something, probably part of a truck tire, flew across from the opposite highway, bounced in the median and slammed into my windshield at 100mph.  The windshield instantly shattered and I was blinded by mud.   I pulled over quickly and surveyed the car.  The driver-side mirror was gone.

It could be chance.

Still, the timing seems odd, coming immediately after the Lakewood shooting.

So when I came to Denver….    I walked to a nearby Target and bought something which left seven cents in my hand.  Usually I’d put it in my pocket but that day I toyed with it and dropped a penny.  I reached down but it was gone.  There was a quarter there instead.

How odd.  How long could a quarter lay in front of a busy Target?  I picked it up and went home.   The next month I was at Target again and thought how odd if I found another quarter.   I walked out and there it was.   Another quarter.

Now I’m freaked out.   What are the odds?   Two pennies, maybe.  But quarters?  How often do you find a quarter on heavily traveled ground?  I checked the ground carefully that month, finding several pennies, a couple of nickels but never a quarter.

The next month I walked to Target again, almost expecting a quarter.   And it wasn’t on the busy walkway this time but in the parking lot.  I can’t stop thinking about it.    Now I check the ground each day, week after week, but never find another quarter until I’m at the goth club.   I’m reading my phone and a reflection catches my eye.   I glance down and there’s a quarter by my foot.

It could all be coincidence but the odds are astronomical.   What are the odds of three quarters in three trips to Target?   It must be millions to one.  Three in a row?  I can’t remember the last time I found a quarter on the ground.

Roger Ebert was an atheist until shortly before he died, which isn’t unusual.  But I can’t stop thinking about some of his last words.   He had a vision of the afterlife and told his wife, “This [world] is an elaborate hoax”.

That phrase plays over and over in my mind,




I suppose I should write about Dominique.  Dominique and The Path.  In fact, there are several related things I should write up.  The visions.  The quarters.

Dominique Mainon was hateful at times but mesmerizing, too.   I found her on LiveJournal in 2000 and her explicit sexual posts drew me in.  I  found her a year later, under a different name but didn’t recognize her at first.  She alternated between sexual dominance, heartbreaking despair and spiteful malice, and I became obsessed.

For several years I sent her money, gifts and in return she opened my mind.  She broke me out of my cultural programming (which, being me, wasn’t that strong to start).  I don’t regret anything regarding Dominique, except perhaps towards the end.  I’m not sorry she was the catalyst for my divorce, she only made me realize the truth that my marriage was an unpleasant sham.  I’m not sorry I harassed her with anonymous emails, on and off over the years.  Most of that email was well-meaning and she goaded me into some of the sexual content.

I am sorry I didn’t realize the extent of her OCD.   My website logs showed a spider visiting my site every hour but its signature was different than the other spiders.  It had clockwork regularity… MOST of the time but would sometimes glitch by five or ten minutes.   Eventually I realized that it was Dominique clicking on my site compulsively, her OCD at work.   I felt sick inside when I realized what was happening.  Her compulsion was driving my actions, my email, which triggered her OCD into more compulsions, an unstoppable feedback loop.

She had no choice in many things she did.

That’s when I stopped communicating with her.

I tried to make peace with her before she died.  She often reminded me of my dead sister, at least in terms of the cancer.  Dominique is the reason I divorced, the reason I set out on The Path in 2004, she is the root cause for most of what I did from 2004 until 2014.   I discovered the world because of her and I also discovered the Truth of many things; often depressing truths.

It seems strange that I wrote so little about her until now.

She is the reason I am here, writing this.

She was my muse and she liked seeing herself as a muse, even if she hated me.