Autobiography of James Allen Bressem
(Copyright c 2005 James Allen Bressem)

The Story Of My Life
By James Allen Bressem
 

 This auto biography had been altered presumably by masons since I wrote it in 2003.
 I have gone over it and repaired it.

I was born in Duluth, Minnesota on the first day of September in the year 1961. At least that is what the records hold. I have much reason to doubt the authenticity of even this, considering the mechanism of society. It was at least five to six years later that I have my first recollections of what it was to be alive. There was snow, sleds, and Christmas. My Grand parents, on my mother's side, Emma & Mony Griffin lived in Proctor, Minnesota. He was the inventive type and had not only completely built their house in Proctor but had also dug their water well, sewer, coal shoot, and a garage in which he maintained about ten thousand tools, and a snow plow which he had also built from spare auto parts. She was just a little old lady who worked at a dry cleaners and did all the cooking and house keeping, etc. Every time we would visit she would tell me and my brothers to go pick strawberries from the field across from her home, then she would make strawberry shortcake for us.

My Grand parents on my father's side were Olga & Walt Bressem. They lived in Brainerd, Minnesota. I don't know much about them except that they have, for all of my memory, lived in the basement of a house which they started, but never finished building, on a piece of land that they are losing as a result of debts. They at one time raised their own pigs, and went collecting rice in boats. I was there once, as a child, and found a few wooden sticks laying around; being that I had also found a few metal ax and hammer blades laying around, I decided to put handles on them. Later, to my regret, they told me that those were RICE sticks. I still have only a vague idea of what that means.

Aside from the periodic visits to our Grandmother's house in Proctor and our Grandmother's house in Brainerd, life was not so pleasant as it might seem. My mother, Alice Griffin, was a fair skinned lady with blonde hair and blue eyes. She made claims that she had been raped as a child by her father, Mony Griffin, which resulted in her extremely abnormal behavior. She gave birth to five children in the course of her life. Her first child, born in 1959, was a girl named Debra Running. I don't know the story behind this, but apparently she had married and then divorced Mr. Running within a very short period of time. Debra was born and, after the separation of her parents, she stayed with Alice.

As fate would have it, Alice, my mother, did not like girls very much. She married her next Husband, my father, Gary Bressem, the year after Debra's birth, and gave birth to her first male child, my brother Gary Bressem Jr. In 1957. Then in 1959 she gave birth to my other brother Rick Bressem. Then in 1961 she gave birth to me, James Bressem. In 1963 she gave birth to her last male child, my youngest brother Marty Bressem. Where Debra was living and what Alice was doing with her up until then I do not know, but soon hereafter she sent Debra, at the age of about seven or eight years to live with our Grand parents in Brainerd. It would be thirty years before any of us would see her again. My mother did not want her and being the type of person that Alice was that meant get rid of her.

Soon after these events Alice was going to have another divorce. From our father, Gary Bressem. The approximate date of these events was 1965. As for us four brothers, which there is some question about even till this day, because my mother had a habit of sleeping around, when they separated we went with her. Where we went is difficult to describe, but I will now attempt to describe. Alice liked bars, drugs, men, and didn't have any real source of income. From these early days, and for the next twelve years, homes for the five of us were to exist sporadically and temporarily. I do have a few images in my mind of a few of the first homes we lived in.

We were living in a city called Woodland, Minnesota. I was going to an elementary school called Cobb School. I had a girl friend in school named Janet. It was a nice neighborhood and we all had a pretty good life while we were there, from what I can remember. I would go ice skating at the school ice skating arena in the winter, it may have been only one winter. I recall having a record which had with it a little book which enabled me to read along with the songs. They went something like "Chuckaluck said the rooster it's five AM wake up farmer Ben.". But some dark things which I hardly remember must have happened earlier in our lives because even then, around six years old, I had this great sadness inside of me. One of my favorite records was Simon & Garfunkel's "The sounds of silence.", a verse from which is "...hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again...". Till this day, I know every word to every song on that album. There was one earlier experience I can just barely recall. Somebody at one of our houses had tied me to a tree with a large rope and put ketchup all over me, then holding a knife they screamed "I cut you, you're gonna die.". I recall being so horrified that I never forgot.

The house in Woodland was, as I said, pretty nice, but you would never know that the people inside of it were quite different from other people. You couldn't tell from the outside, but Alice would scream, hit, or even beat any one of us who did not listen to exactly every word she said. One of the most striking things I recall doing regularly was going down to this large street water drainage hole and crawling in it. We would crawl in those drainage tunnels for what seemed miles. Going into even the tiniest holes which lead to the street itself, within which, even then, we had to crawl on our bellies. I can remember looking up at the cars going by, on the street, from under the water drainage grill on the side of the street. The only way out was to crawl back through the tiny hole which lead to the larger tunnel which was the drainage tunnel and walk a long way back to the exit, which had a huge steel gate over it, but it was prompted open for some reason.

We moved to California twice in these early days, the exact sequence escapes me, so I'll just go ahead and describe one of those trips now, to the best of my knowledge. Alice and her four sons: Gary, Rick, James, Marty packed up our things and left for California in an old car without money, food or much of anything else except each other. Of these trips I can only summarize, because my recollection is dim. Well, it was all about sleeping in the car, for one thing. I recall sleeping on the back seat floor of the car and it was miserable. The space was so small that it hurt even as a child. There were five of us and Mom got the front seat, Gary got the back seat, the other three of us Rick, Me, and Marty each got either the back window or one of the floors. I recall sleeping in the back window once and somebody threw a rock or something and busted it out along the side of the highway somewhere, when we traveled.

Food was scarce and we got most of it from begging, either Mom would beg at some church, sometimes getting intimate with the preacher, as necessary, I suppose. Other times she would send us kids to beg, or steal or whatever it took. We would beg for coke bottles which we could trade in for 3 pennies apiece back then. I distinctly recall the refunds on coke bottles going from 3, to 5, and then to 10 cents, as in all of those years we were begging, stealing, taking odd jobs, or whatever it took to get money for ourselves and Alice to eat and live. Our trips across the country were plagued with car problems all of which were solved by Mom, one way or another. I couldn't even count the times we sat in the car on the side of the highway with the hood open because we were broke down and stranded. Somebody would always come along, and the lure of getting my mother in bed would get us back on the road again. As time went by our mother would become more and more violent and frustrated because of these men who always wanted just her sex. They would put us brothers somewhere for a while and go off and do their stuff then come back and work out all of our immediate problems. Mom would usually be drunk and drugged up.

Eventually, we arrived in California. Inglewood, California. What we were doing there I don't know maybe we were staying with some distant relative. I do remember one thing about being there. We were all in this park one late afternoon and some little colored kids about our age came by in the park riding bicycles. They screamed some kind of remark to my mother, who was probably making herself at home in the park with a blanket and all kinds of junk. She started screaming at me to do something about them. I walked over toward the boy on the bike and took off my belt to let him know I meant business, so he took off his belt also, which I could see had a large metal buckle on it and we began to swing them at each other, with coaching from my mother. Till the little black boy hit me in the eye and I began to bleed badly. Then the little black boy got on his bike and took off while my mother began pampering me and brought me to a hospital where I received stitches, for the first time in my life, on my right eye brow.

From there we went to Lomita, California. Where we lived in a roach infested dump of a motel with drain problems and a swimming pool which was unfit to swim in because the water was stagnate with putrefying trash. The motel had one bed in the center and that's where our mom spent most of her time. Laying in bed, drugged out of her mind, sleeping in pools of sweat. The drugs she was taking were mostly prescription drugs; she always complained of a million illnesses. The thing I remember most about Lomita and the motel were the wanderings of myself and my brothers. We spent a lot of time roaming around trying to get odd jobs. We would each go our separate ways and knock on doors asking for odd jobs. The money we got that day would be the money to pay for the motel rent and for all of our food. Begging was a good way to get a few quarters, but mostly, I would go from house to house, or trailer to trailer, if I was in a trailer park, and ask to wash windows, mow lawns, sweep driveways. People would give me jobs, every day, but the pay was low. The average amount I could expect to receive for, say, washing a car was about a dollar. For washing all the windows on a trailer I'd receive about fifty cents. Still money was scarce. It was a regular sight to see one of us have three or four dollars when we arrived back at the motel later that evening and others to have no money at all. We would all give our money to Mom and she would tell us what to buy for our dinner, or to pay the motel rent, etc. I recall the frustration I used to feel when I would give my measly one or two dollars to Mom and get in return maybe one bologna sandwich for the whole day, because the little bit of money had to be divided between five people. Later on I would start going to the donut shop before I arrived at the motel so that I at least could have some food.

Me and my brothers were going to a public school from that motel, but I don't think any of us were learning anything. It was a tragedy, to say the least, when we would arrive at school in shoes and pants that were four and five sizes too large because we had crawled into a goodwill box in the night to get them and didn't see what they really looked like until we had to wear them. Besides we were all essentially illiterate, tribal kids and as such had little conception of class or caste. We lived by instinct alone like animals of the field. When you don't have anything you are satisfied with anything you can find. What's more is that Mom would save some of the money we brought home so that she could buy herself more drugs. It was all about big time hunger for us, most of the time.

I don't know exactly how it happened but eventually we got an apartment, in Harbor City. It was a very poor neighborhood. Most of the people there were Samoans and they were not very pleasant people. I recall the apartment was empty, no furniture, and no food. We went into the street water drainage system again here and crawled through the little holes again, just as we had done in Minnesota. I still remember looking up at the city street and the cars going by from inside the street water drain grill in Harbor city and being awe struck by the oddness of it. I was about eight or nine years old by now. Another big thing that we found was that if you went to the back door of the taco bell and asked for some broken taco shells they would sometimes give you a whole bag of broken taco shells. This became a regular thing, all in a days work.

One time I was walking through the swamps in a park which was very near a gulf course and found some old gulf balls laying in the swamp. Me and my brothers soon turned it into a thriving business. We would walk through the swamp, find gulf balls and then sell the good ones to the people playing gulf in the gulf course for about a quarter a ball. Mom had a few boyfriends but they didn't have any money either. The apartment complex we were living in was very run down and dirty. In the rear of the buildings there was a large field filled with trash of every sort. I remember doing a lot of humming in these days of the song by Simon and Garfunkel which goes "but wasn't he the most peculiar man.", I think it was because there was this one old man who lived in the apartment across from us in the hall and he was always in raggedy clothing and riding an old beat up bicycle which he would bring up stairs into his apartment each day after going some place. He never spoke a single word to anyone. He seemed so lonely to me. Anyhow Harbor city was anything other than boring. Instead of just sitting around and trying to forget about our hunger, as Mom would say, "Just forget about it and it will go away", we had a thousand little things going on around us in that apartment complex, night and day. The Samoan people were, from what I know today, very tribal, and every day they had a new ritual or ceremony of sorts going on in the complex. We kids would frequently try to get involved with them, as most kids would. But it sometimes lead to horrible consequences. One time my brother Rick came home screaming his head off, like he was going to die, because some adult Samoan had hit him on the head with a pool stick. We brothers couldn't get excited if one of us had been hurt, because Mom would say we were acting like a fagot., "I have four boys and they are all going to be Men.". Another thing to avoid at any cost. Well, back to the pool stick incident. My mother went insane, as usual, and got out her gun. She had a little 25 automatic, from where I don't know. She went over there where it had happened and all hell broke lose. She didn't pull the gun until later, but she was screaming and yelling like a crazy woman. The Samoan men didn't do anything, but this one BIG Samoan woman came out and followed us back to our apartment. Her and Mom got into it in the driveway in front of our apartment. The Samoan lady was much bigger than Mom and she was pulling Mom's hair and had her leaned back over the hood of Mom's car, on her back. Well, I was standing there watching and was a bit to small for this fight, but I could also see that the lady was the only Samoan around, so I picked up a big two by four and hit the Samoan lady in the back. She flinched and it was enough for Mom to get away. The Samoan lady ran and got in a car. Mom got in her car and gave chase with her gun now drawn pointing out the front window of the car at the Samoan lady's car speeding away in front of us. We followed for a while but never caught her. And that pretty much ended the Harbor City saga. We were off to another city.

The weather is dry and hot out in the south eastern part of California called the inland empire where we ended up, Lake Elsinore, California. Mom somehow got us a house to rent out there and we moved in. Not much else had changed except that she had this one boy friend from Harbor city who was still coming around. His name was Fred Andrasavits, or something like that. She really loved this guy, because he was kind of like a white gangster and his dream was to get rich, "some day", he would say, he was going to come and pick Mom up in a brand new Cadillac. He eventually did get that new Cadillac, and a big auto repair shop of his own, but that was many years in the future and Mom would be dead before then. We went to school in Elsinore and came home to poverty. Again, me and my brothers would roam through the entire city. We must not have stayed there very long because there just aren't many memories of it in my head. One thing that stands out pretty clear is that one time Mom went off somewhere with this old man in a fancy new car and while she was gone Fred showed up at the house. He was furious about her going where she went, of course I didn't even know where she was. Looking back it is pretty obvious that she went to have sex with the old man for money, but I didn't know that then. Fred got all four of us boys together and he started telling us how to fight. He said "When you fight somebody bigger than you, you get a weapon to make up for the difference.". So he gave each of us a weapon, a baseball bat, a hammer, and a few other things I can't remember. Then he said "We are going to wait for this Man to drive up with your Mother and then we are going to beat his car with these weapons.". And we did just that! The man pulled up in the driveway, Mom got out and we attacked the car like a swarm of bees. Breaking the windows and denting it all up before the man was able to escape out the driveway. Well, Mom didn't say anything, I guess that was the way she liked it. I had really developed a hatred for my Mother, with all of her lies, short comings, and inadequacies. My brothers didn't like her much either, I don't think, but we OBEYED her because if we did not she would beat the hell out of us. There was this old black lady about five houses down the block from us named Wynita Jackson. She raised chickens and always had a lot of eggs on hand. Frequently she would give my mother eggs to cook for us. But other than that it was just a little, once in a while. There was a little store across the street and I remember frequently getting my hands on a dime or two to go buy some candy. In any event the stay in Lake Elsinore didn't last long. Soon we were on the road again. This time back to Minnesota.

I don't remember much about the trip or even that this was the exact time of the trip, but it happened. It was just as usual, going back to Minnesota, that is we were broke and riding in a junker car. We spent most of our time begging for food, and so on, from the churches, salvation armies, etc. I don't want to undermine the effect that these trips had on my life nor do I want to undermine the vast experiences that we encountered in them, but my memories are lacking for the most part, so I'm abbreviating them. One thing about them that I distinctly remember is hunger. At times I was so hungry that I would pull the back seat out of the car just to see if I could find an old frito, or cheese puff that somebody may have dropped days before. Any orchard of fruit bearing trees that we would encounter along the way would get raided and the car would be filled with oranges, and such, as our only source of food. Mom would be screaming the car would break down, over and over again. We would find ourselves stuck in a rest area off the freeway or someplace else almost constantly. Sleeping in the car became a regular thing like a bed to some other child. One time our car even caught on fire and we stood there for hours watching all of our belonging burn, not having anywhere to go. We were out in the middle of no where on an interstate highway. I can't even remember where we ended up.

We eventually arrived in Minnesota, and ended up moving into a house that was what seemed uninhabitable. I mean the doors were busted off, the cabinets inside were broken and filled with ten years of rat droppings, the floor was a trash bin. The grass in the yard was six foot high. But Mom said this is where we are going to live, "We just need to fix it up a little.". So fix it up we did. Soon the grass was cut, the trash was out of the house, the cabinets were fixed and painted, and the doors were all on. The place was very country. It was in Hermantown, Minnesota. Which is just North West of Duluth, where I was born. A bus would come by and bring us to school and we were on our way toward a semi normal existence, but Mom was gone all the time. There was no food in the house, as usual, and there was no place to get any, except the apple trees, so we ate a lot of apples. I can't be certain, but I think we stayed in this house for at least a year. The back yard was literally a forest of trees and the nearest neighbor was about a thousand feet away. There were no stores within walking distance. I must have been about ten years old now. Quite a few unordinary things happened while we were living in Hermantown. One of them came at a very unexpected time. We had all just come home from our respective schools, but Mom wasn't letting anyone in the house. There stood Gary, Rick, Marty, and me outside, after school, in the snow, freezing, with a warm house in front of us, but our mother would not lets us in. She was screaming "Who stole my keys?... none of you are getting in this house until you give me back my keys....". She went into a crazed frenzy and we were all quite scared of her, so nobody said anything. Apparently none of us had her keys, because nobody spoke. Then after about an hour of being out side, she still did not have her keys, she decided to add insult to the injury. Gary had this Iguana lizard that he had brought with him from California, and you know Iguana lizards are used to desert conditions. So Mom said "If you don't tell me which one of you stole my keys I'll throw this Iguana out into the snow!" Well, nobody told her what she wanted to know, even though now we began to ask each other if anyone had the keys, apparently nobody had them, nor had they seen them. So out came the Iguana came into the snow bank with us to freeze. Now she was threatening us about what she was going to do when she figured out which one of us had stolen her keys. I was scared, but after about three hours of freezing weather I decided that I would make a confession. I told my mother that I had stolen the keys and brought them to school to show my friends, but they had fallen into the ice skating rink at school and I was unable to find them. She went nuts and beat me, where upon she invited my brothers to do the same, they resigned from doing so. After all, I think my brothers realized that I didn't deserve all of that abuse. They just stood there and let Mom rant on by herself. About a week later sitting in church with Mom and my brothers. Mom was digging through her purse and behold, under a fold of fabric, there were her keys. She apologize for treating me badly, but the pain never went away.

When winter came in Hermantown, as everywhere in Minnesota, cars had a hard time starting. So Mom got this brilliant idea of building a garage, a garage out of sticks and tree branches. We built it and then we covered it with plastic, so she could put her car in it. It consisted of long tree branches stuck in the ground one next to the other in the shape of a three sided box without a roof. It kind of looked like something you might see in a tribe somewhere out in the jungle, looking back. Another thing that happened while we were there was that me and my brothers built a tree house in three huge trees that grew almost out of each other in the forest behind the house. We stayed in the tree house for a night once and Mom came out there about twenty times that night watching us, and talking to us as if she was concerned with our welfare. To us it felt more like she was the Nazi war general watching us as if we were Jews in a death camp so that we couldn't escape. It was times like these that I liked most about my childhood; times when I could get away from her and be in my own space catching lizards, frogs damming up streams, or whatever, as long as she was not there. And I believe that is why we never minded when she would leave for days sometimes. Nobody ever taught us all those simple things that normal kids learn, like brushing your teeth and washing behind your ears. So we didn't do those things at all. We lived kind of wild and free, doing exactly as we pleased when Hitler (Mom) wasn't around. I didn't have a clue what this world was or why I was in it, but I was beginning to wonder. I knew nothing of business, society, or government, and I didn't have time to care. All I could think about was my hunger and my pain and my loneliness, which has never gone away.

Once I came home from school having made these little cards for my mother, on some holiday, I gave them to her. She took them and threw them back in my face and screamed something that I can't remember. I spent an entire day in school making them, so I proceeded to the back yard where I dug a hole and buried them in the ground. Burying those cards meant something important to me. When I buried those cards I buried any affection I ever had for her. Everyday it was a different battle of one kind or another. Who could ever recall all the horrors that she bestowed upon us for having been born.

Our stay in Hermantown was about at it's end. Because things had been getting real bad, I mean we were hungry all the time, and Mom was gone all the time. It wasn't long till somebody, a neighbor or someone, had called the welfare department, they came to the house to get us. This was the beginning of a long saga of foster homes and heart ache, for us and our mother. They separated us into different foster homes in Duluth I think. You see when they put you in foster homes they often split you up and put different kids in different places. This was a very painful thing for me because my family was all I knew, my brothers and Mom. To lose them instilled a tremendous sadness which still exists. They put me and Marty in one foster home and Rick, and Gary in another. For about a year we didn't see each other. Mom would come around once in a while bringing with her great sadness. She in these days dedicated a song to us that I will never forget, and till this day it brings me sorry when heard, it goes something like this, "...Can't live if living is without you...". Well, needless to say it brought me great sorrow to see her leaving, me having that song in my mind. She came only about every other month, which was just enough to make me think that I missed her, which I probably did.

As for the foster home they were just normal people. They sent us to school and we played with the other kids. At least I did, I don't know what Marty was doing. I got in fights and would always win. I liked this one little girl, but she ignored me, and another little girl liked me, but I ignored her. I went to the house of the girl that I liked once and she let me in, whereupon I was faced with all these adults and became speechless, so I left. Another time I went out in front of her house and built a snow man on her front lawn so she would be impressed, she was, but nothing changed. I guess I just wasn't her type but I almost got her! Back at the foster home; the people we were staying with had two children, a female and a male, but they were adults, or in their twenties which was much older than us. I remember their son had a penny collection, or rather he had a big bag in his closet where he saved thousands of pennies. Me and Marty would help ourselves to those pennies whenever we wanted candy. He never said anything, but I new he could tell, because the bag was getting emptier and emptier as time passed. He was a diabetic and had hundreds of needles around his room, which we did not touch. She was a pretty lady with black hair and a lot more, which I was able to see through the key hole in the bathroom when she took a bath. I did not of course know what it was, but it was different. The people had a dog named Ming Pug. He was a pug. I guess now I know but then he was just a pest to me, always nosing around. The lady would buy us cereal for breakfast and she would ask us what kind we wanted. I would always get Captain Crunch, so would Marty, but he later tried the with Crunch berries kind, I didn't like it. The foster lady had a big fish tank in one room and we would watch those fish swim for hours sometimes. We would also feed the little fish to the big fish for fun.

There was another notable thing that happened in that foster home. That is these people used to come over and pick us up to bring us places like the Duluth zoo, and to this big house where they had barrels of raw peanuts that didn't taste very good. They were two men about in their twenties I guess and they were called Big Brothers or something like that. It was quite enjoyable because they would give us hot cocoa and toys, etc. I had Ice skates and would spend a lot of time skating on the school ice skating rink with Marty and other people. Eventually this came to an end. It was time for Mom to come get us.

She did, then she brought us to Superior, Wisconsin to live in an apartment complex where she had two friends named Phyllis and Pete. They were married and had two children named Jody and Jody. One was a girl and the other was a boy, they were about our age so we all got along as best we could. Phyllis was an obese lady and Pete was very thin and had some kind of urinary problem which caused him to have to urinate in cans instead of in the toilet. Phyllis ate Pringles potato chips, so Pete would use the cans to urinate. We started calling Pringles cans Pete's Pee cans. We were back to relative poverty now and consequently, me and my brothers spent most of our days going out and finding odd jobs. Phyllis had a lawn mower and we borrowed it to go cut peoples lawns for money. I recall that was about the time when gas was twenty five cents a gallon, because I remember paying that to fill a can for the mower at a gas station. We made a good amount of money mowing those lawns in Superior, all of it went to Mom. I remember one night sleeping on the floor in Jody and Jody's bedroom. I woke up and looked at Jody's face, she was a pretty girl, so I kissed her. She woke up and the next day told everybody, I was the laughing stalk of the apartment complex for kissing a girl. Soon Mom had enough money from us, and whatever else she was doing, to decide that it was time for us to go. Where? Well, back to California, of course.

Only this time we were loaded down with a U-Haul truck full of furniture. We still didn't have much money. Mom had taken my last thirteen dollars back in Superior to buy a big bible for somebody. I remember her putting an inscription inside the front cover. She told us she was giving the book to our Grandmother. Almost thirty years later I saw the book again, she had really given it to our sister Debra Running who still has it till this day to my knowledge. We stayed in Brainerd with our father's parents, where Debra was, for one night and left the next day. Mom screamed at us telling us that our brother Gary had gone to bed with Debra and she showed us the dirty panties which were supposed to convince us, they meant nothing to me, by now I didn't even really know that Debra was my sister. Debra told me, recently, that Mom kept us away from her when we were there, Mom didn't want us to know our sister Debra. I suppose it was like Mom used to always say "I don't want any sissies around me!". She just didn't like girls, I suppose because they were girls.

We were on the road again for California. Completely packed down. The truck only had sitting room for three, but there were five of us. Naturally yours truly ended up riding in the back of the truck with the door closed on me and the furniture, but Marty was with me or Rick I can't recall. It was a sightless tomb filled with the smell of furniture and the noise of highway travel. We stopped to stay the night at a KOA campground as we often did. We pitched a tent and were settling in when Mom fell off the back of the trailer somehow and hurt her back. They took her to the hospital. They took us into juvenile facilities awaiting foster homes.

The first foster home we went into was an old black lady. All four of us were put in the same one. The black lady would feed us only some kind of soup made from boiling whole chickens in water with a few vegetables and bones still in it. She kept us in a room, like a jail, with four beds and jail bars on the windows, with doors locked. Mom would come by to see us but the black lady wouldn't let her see us. Mom would leave money and presents for us, but the black lady would never give us anything. The black lady must have been very prejudiced toward white children, because the treatment we got from her was the worse we ever received from any foster home. Mom went to the courts and got us taken out of there. They just sent us to different foster homes.

I was by myself in a foster home with some people who had two older, nice looking, daughters. I remember asking them to kiss me good night every night and they would. In some ways it wiped away the loneliness and the feelings of emptiness just to get a kiss before I went to bed. I don't know how long I was there, but I went to school and all of that. And I started eating a new kind of cereal. I asked for Grape nuts this time, and I came to like them with a little honey. I used to pick my nose and wipe the results on the wall behind my bed and I remember how heart broken I was when they discovered the dirty wall behind my bed. I don't know why I did it, I guess I just didn't know any better. But to think of those girls knowing that I did such a thing has always brought me great grief. Anyhow, this place was soon to end.

One day Mom pulled up in an old junker car, no trailer, no furniture, and told me it's time to go. So I got in the car with mom, my brothers were already there, and we left. Off to California we went. I still recall the drive on the freeway at night, mom started singing a song "Take me home country road to the place I belong..." Etc. By the way John Denver was a favorite of my Mom until the day she died, about five years from now. She was big on country and western music. She would play that stuff load, and till this day songs like Tammy Wynnets "Our D-I-V- O-R-C-E became final today." Still ring in my ears from way back then. The trip was as all trips, sleeping in the usual places in the car and hitting the churches along the way for food, and shelter occasionally. But where we were going was an entirely new phenomena.

We crossed the Mexican border at Tecate, and where we where for the next year or so I couldn't tell you, but I can describe it. Mom took us to some old abandoned house out in the middle of no where in Mexico. The house only had a roof in one room, the main living room, which is where we all stayed. The house was filled with trash and Debris from the decay of itself and any passers by which may have come as the years rolled on. Mom would go to the border and get something she called Commodities, and that was what we ate. The school we went to was a one room class with about twenty kids in it, all Mexican except us. I remember going out in the desert at recess time to turn over rocks and catch centipedes etc. To get to school we had to catch a bus. But before that we had to get ready for school, which meant cleaning up. We had to get up at about five, before the sun and walk across this field through a cow pasture. There in the trough that the cows drank out of is where we would take a bath. It was cold, to say the least. In the day time the sun would bake down on the ground and we would be roaming the Mexican country side shirtless and shoeless which is how we were most of the time.

There was a swimming pool at the house but it had long since been broken and filled with dirt. All that remained were lizards, snakes, and every sort of little creature which takes over where man has left off, using up every last resource until nothing is left except the raw earth. We had a field day chasing the wild reptiles day after day for what seemed years but was only a few months. We were getting used to poverty and the country side. Later I was to get a tattoo on my left arm just above my hand that reads Country, because it was so ingrained in me by these years of living away from other people. We had a few little toys that somehow had either survived the road or had been obtained by our mother for us. One of these was a creature making machine by Mattel. It was supposed to be used for making little glow in the dark worms and such, but we had long since run out of the glue which comes with them to fill the molds to make worms. Now me and my brothers would use the little molds to heat water to make a peasant's share of oatmeal to satisfy our hunger. I still recall sitting there in that broken down house making oatmeal in that tiny tray, which only held about five spoons full of oatmeal, at max. It wasn't long before my mother had a couple of trailers for us to live in, in another part of Mexico. So off we went to another home.

The next place was just some little area next to a small hill out in the middle of nowhere just like before, only now we had a couple of neighbors. There was an orchard near by which grew pears and that was comforting, except that they were seldom growing, because of the heat I guess. Nothing had really changed except for the trailers, neighbors, pear trees, and a little stream which was about two miles away. Sometimes we would go to the stores in the cities of Mexico and we would purchase a little Mexican candy. I specifically remember one type named Calabasa. It was so sweet that a child could eat a ton of it, we never had more than just one piece to share. There weren't any bathrooms in these places where we were living, as you might have guessed, so it was becoming common practice to defecate in the hills, or in a hole in the ground, and wipe with leaves from the few bushes which were available. It wasn't long before I noticed that there were worms in my feces. White worms about two inches in length were crawling in and out of my feces, which had just came out of my body. I never did anything about it, they just went away, eventually. I told Mom, but she said it wasn't important.

The little stream, where we would bath, wasn't without complication. Every time you got into the water you came out full of leeches. At first Mom tried all kinds of different things to get the leeches off our bodies, like hair spray, perfume. The thing that worked best was good old table salt. When you put a little salt on those leeches they would just drop off your skin. One time Mom was going to take my brothers to the stream, but she wasn't going to take me, the stream was miles away and you really needed a ride, she got all of them into the car but wouldn't let me in. So being the enterprising type that I was I crawled onto the back bumper of the car, which was fitted with a trailer hitch and that is where I laid. The car went over a large bump in the road and off into the road I flew. Scratched up and in pain, I guess Mom must have seen me fall in the road because she stopped the car and let me ride along to the water hole also.

There was an old Mexican lady who lived near by and she would be cutting pears from the orchard in half and lying them out in the sun on these large wooden platforms so they would dry out. She frequently gave us some of the fruit. I personally had gone into the orchard on several occasions only to find trees all dried out and looking dead. Some bore fruit, but the fruit was the main attraction for many insects, from flies to bees and beetles. There was actually one other place in Mexico where we lived, but I just don't remember enough about it to write about it. Mom had obviously been with many men in Mexico, because somewhere around now she was about to give birth to her last child, a female, named Carmen. I suppose we can all guess why her name was Carmen! Because she was born to a Mexican man, who none of us brothers ever met. Our Mom hid most of her sexual interludes from our view. In fact, while we were in Mexico I never saw her with a man, but she, obviously, had been. Exactly when Carmen was born I can't quite remember. The next thing that happened was we left Mexico and came to California.

Then next thing I can remember was our living in a motel in Hollywood, California. Mom had this one friend who was notable because he seemed to be around now and again for years to come. His name was Ron Barker, I believe. He claimed to be a Blackfoot Indian, but whether he actually was or not was and is a question, at least to me. Anyhow, Ron, which I know for certain was his first name, was to assist Mom and us many times in the years to come. In these days I never really paid much attention to the world around me, except to find some food or money for food. Cars and such meant nothing to me, after all you couldn't eat them. But even so I still remember the car that Ron drove because it was so frequently talked about. It was a Trino, or something like that. It was old and green, nothing special, just a memory. Kind of an ugly car from what I can remember.

My brother Rick, who maintains the only pictures which remain from those days with Mom, has a picture of us with Mom and Ron at that motel in Hollywood. In ragged clothes and dirty faced we were. One thing that stands out about that particular motel was an incident concerning drugs. Mom had a bunch of Men in the motel room, which wasn't very large and they were doing Cocaine. I can specifically remember one of them dropped a little Cocaine on the floor and everyone went into hysteria. They were all gathered around the location where the drugs were dropped and picked up my brothers shoe, into which it had apparently fell, looking at it, this one man said "One of you now has a very expensive shoe." We were not impressed. Aside from this I can remember walking around collecting soda pop bottles again. I remember going around the Griffith park area, which is near to where the motel was. A guy could get a loaf of bread then for twenty five cents. And on several occasion that is all we had to share between the five of us. I don't know where Mom put Carmen in these days, but she wasn't with us again until we moved to Lawndale, which is where we went next.

How we got it I don't know, like so many other things that I didn't know, but we had an apartment in Lawndale. It was in a duplex, we had the rear apartment. Our apartment was two stories high, that is there was a downstairs and an up stairs. Mom had decorated it with all kinds of exotic things, like palm leaves and such, with a bar and those Hawaiian statues called Con tikis, or whatever they are called. She frequently had guests over to the house for parties with drugs, etc. My brother Rick also has a photograph of several police men in hippie like attire holding marijuana cigarettes in one hand and police badges in the other at a party there in that house. My mother didn't care much for the law, she broke it all the time and encouraged us to do the same, "Just don't get caught" she would say. Several things happened in this home of ours.

I was getting to be around twelve years old by now, I suppose. My mother had a good imagination and she would frequently claim to be involved in different careers, from these days she had claimed to be working for the Los Angeles police department as a narcotics agent. Later she would claim to be an interior decorator. But it just doesn't seem too realistic when I think back at the poverty we still lived in. Me and my brothers would do the same things here as everywhere else. That is we would have to roam the city searching for money and or food. Frequently we would bring Carmen with us now as she was big enough to walk, although very young, she never spoke. We would roam over the fences in the neighborhood and go into other people's garages where they frequently had extra refrigerators to store extra food and we would help ourselves to a meal. Sometimes we would go over the fence to somebody else's swimming pool and go for a swim. I recall one time this kid who was a little bigger than me grabbed me and took me into a telephone both, then he put a knife to me and asked me to take out my penis. I was shocked to say the least, but my brothers where not far away and he ended up running for his life. I never did show him my penis. These were strange days, and we had become quite strange kids. We started breaking into cars in these days and stealing little things that could be found there in, like change and cigarettes. None of us smoked cigarettes, but I would later start. We broke into a jewelry store once, all four of us and stole some watches and so on. It was one of the biggest things we ever did. One time we went into this boat building shop and threw paint all over the place for no particular reason, then we ran. We didn't understand our world and it didn't understand us, we were bound to be in conflict with it. The thing we wanted most was just food, but it was pretty hard to find. Me and my brother Marty were going through the trash cans at the duplex apartments where we lived once and found a Mc Donald's hamburger in the trash. We opened the paper it was in and saw that there were worms in the meat, maggots. We were so hungry that we pulled the maggots out of it and shared it.

It was thanksgiving day once that I can remember and like usual we had nothing, so Mom made these sugar cookies which she shaped like turkeys and we shared them. She was always apologizing for our miserable condition, but it didn't fill our stomachs. She tried to commit suicide once in that home by cutting her wrists. She laid herself in the bathtub upstairs and sliced both her wrists with a razor blade. One of us saw her there laying in a blood bath and called the police. The paramedics saved her, as they had done on other occasions. The only other thing that happened here which was pretty profound happened when it wasn't even expected. Mom went up front to the people's apartment who shared the duplex with us. They were two relatively young people, by today's standards. I guess he was around twenty eight and she was around twenty five, years old. While mom was up there talking to them we were playing with Carmen in the garage. I can't remember who was there exactly, but I was, and we had crawled up into those little cabinets which hang up in the rear of most open garages. We were playing there, when Mom came out and got us. She took us into those people's house. We sat there not exactly knowing why we were there, while Mom talked to them. What was said I don't know. What I do know is that when we were getting ready to leave Mom told Carmen to stay and she did. Mom moved us out of there that day to another city, and that was the last time anyone in this family ever saw Carmen. Where she is and what has happened to her has been a subject of much discussion since then, but our misery was still to go on for at least three more years and by then Carmen was lost in time, never to see her family again! I don't know how old she was, I'm not sure when she was born, but I know that she is our sister and just like the other one we had somewhere in Minnesota she was now gone, forever.

As you may have realized, in those days our schooling was anything but good. We were always put into schools but they came and went so frequently that none of us were ever really educated. In fact I remembered only one friend from one school up until this time in my entire childhood; the girl friend Janet from Cobb elementary school in Minnesota. That would change for the worse. Once I started getting in with other kids, I started getting in trouble, but that didn't happen yet. You should remember that the events in this autobiography, although true, may not be in the exact order in which they actually took place. Lawndale may have come before Mexico etc.. I believe there were three trips to and from Minnesota, but I can't place them. I do not know for certain I'm just trying to do the best I can with my memory.

We were getting older now. I was about thirteen years old and my oldest brother Gary was about seventeen years old; Rick fifteen, Marty eleven. We moved into an apartment in Hawthorne, California. It was on 141st street and Hawthorne boulevard. The place was a triplex and we had the front apartment. A rather large apartment with three bedrooms. The largest for Mom, one for Rick, Gary, and one for me and Marty. We had no money, no food and nothing else, but we had an apartment. Mom got furniture for it. Then it was time for us to get the money to pay for it. So off we would go, three boys. Ages 17, 15, 13, and 11, to make the money to support ourselves and our mother, as we had always done before, but now we had to do that after school because we were all enrolled in school. I was going to Hawthorne junior high at that time. Trying to get money was the same as always, begging for odd jobs, asking for pop bottles. The daily cash earnings ranged from zero to six dollars for me. Things started getting desperate and Mom started resorting to drastic measures if we hit a couple of days with little or no earnings. She came to the point were she would not allow us into the house when we came back at night unless we had earned some money to give her. She would say "If you can't earn any money then you can sleep outside.". Many a night I roamed the streets of Hawthorne seeking a place to hide and sleep! Sometimes I would just sleep on the tiny five by four foot long lawn that was in our back yard between the rear apartments and ours. They were long nights and I hated my mother.

It wasn't easy getting money from people who were all pretty much poor. The only difference between them and us was they would stay in one place and we were everywhere so we never had any roots to hold onto. Walking door to door, knocking and asking "Do you have any work for me today Sir? I can do windows, or wash the car. I can sweep driveways and empty trash cans." But still not everyone had work. Some days you just couldn't get a penny from anyone. Fate knows that we had a long history of knowing how to get it if it was there. Me and Marty finally found an easy way to solve the problem. We would just steal, so we started breaking into the junior high school on the weekends and after school. We would raid the cafeteria, opening those large cans of peaches and so on. Once we ate as much as we could we would put the half emptied can in the refrigerator. Well, what we didn't realize was that they were noticing the newly opened cans appearing in the refrigerator over the weekends when the school was supposed to be closed. And one fate filled day we roamed into the school building in the usual way to eat from the cafeteria and when we had finished we walked to the door to exit and behold there were police outside of the door. Off to jail we went. And it was the first time in my life that I ever went to jail, but I went many more times in the future.

The police didn't put us in a cell or anything, I guess because we were too young. They put us in these glass walled rooms separated from each other in the middle of the police station where everybody could see us and we could see them, and each other but we couldn't talk through the glass. There we sat until Mom came in the door screaming at us in the jail "You bad kids, how many times have I told you not to steal. Etc. Etc.". then she brought us home and completely changed the tone of her voice. Now it was all about "It's OK to steal but you can not get caught. Pat, pat "good boys.". She essentially taught us not only that we should steal to get money, but how to lie to everyone else and say we didn't steal. She was seeing a central American Man she had met somewhere in Mexico, I guess, while we lived in Hawthorne. His name was Louis. I can remember one time being up in the middle of the night and hearing her whimper and moan from her room as they had sex. The door was closed, but the noise was loud. I remember it really hurt my feelings to hear it, till this day, I don't know exactly why.

All of my life it seemed she would be leaving me behind and taking my brothers somewhere without me. On this particular occasion I did not know where she was going, but she left me at home in the apartment and took my brothers. I was very depressed, sad, and lonely. So I decided I would end it all. I went into Mom's medicine cabinet in the bathroom where she always kept a lot of pills, and took down a bottle. I opened the bottle and swallowed them all, about thirty pills. Then I started getting afraid of dying and I ended up calling the paramedics who came and told me that those pills wouldn't kill me but I'd better stay awake and walk around the house they were walking me around the house when Mom came in and they told her to walk me around the house for several hours, and not to let me sit down. So I walked and eventually it was over.

School was just a formality for me and I don't think I ever studied anything, and nobody cared. My Mom wouldn't make a big deal out of F's and D's on my report card she just didn't care, life was way too much of a problem to worry about that. I started smoking Marijuana, and got this brilliant idea of growing it and selling the plants. So I got a bunch of seeds and planted them in these little seedling cups and they grew but the idea never worked.

Our family didn't celebrate holidays much, but while we were here there was a notable exception. It was Christmas time and somehow Mom got the money to buy us presents. We had a tree and the whole nine yards. She bought us bicycles and that was a great day in my life. Gary and Rick received large ten speed bicycles, me and Marty received the smaller type, and we liked them. To me she gave a fancy kind of bike with a banana seat and shiny handle bars, to Marty she gave a Motor cross kind of bike. I always wondered why?

Gary, our oldest brother was about seventeen years old and that is a good age for getting a regular job, and sure enough he found one. At a place called Keene Machine Shop on Rosecrans avenue in Hawthorne for a guy named Mr. David Keene. Who was to become a major part of our lives for some time to come. So Gary became the bread winner of the house and finally, for a while we all had a little peace from the struggle for food. Gary would pay the bills and buy the food. I guess Mom made him feel like it was his duty in life to support us. And it may be that some of the Christmas money came from Gary's job. For many years to come Gary would be the kind of person who knew how to do nothing else except work and work to support other people. An extremely kind person he would sooner give you his shirt than to see you cold. He started lifting weights in these days to get muscles and that is a hobby he still maintains until the present day, of course I haven't seen him in almost twenty years, nor do I know his where abouts or any of my other brothers for that matter.

Well as fate would have it Mr. Keene turned out to be a very kind and generous man. Soon Marty had a full time job at his shop, and then he even gave me a full time job at his shop. I suppose he did it just to make certain we had money and food to eat, after all what are you going to do with a couple of kids in a machine shop? We swept floors and ran errands to the market and such. When Mr. Keene bought lunch it wasn't any kind of fooling around. If six people were working in the shop he ordered ten Large lunches from the restaurant and everyone had more than enough to eat, for free. He even bought all the machinery and cleaning equipment once for me and Marty to start our own car waxing business, then he brought in cars and showed us how to wax them. He wanted us to have a business, and he let us do it right there in the parking lot of his shop. But it just didn't work for us. I don't know why, I guess we were too young.

It was common for us kids to get on our bikes and go for long journeys. We would ride for many hours to the beaches and the malls, etc. Playing around and jumping curbs with our bikes. We were good at it and it was lots of fun. But the bikes were nice and we weren't the only ones who wanted them. Once we were all together riding down Rosecrans avenue on our bikes. Rick, Me, and Marty. Marty was carrying a bicycle sprocket, which is the heavy metal thing that the pedals connect to, he had gotten it to modify his bike. When these two big kids jumped out of the bushes and grabbed Rick's bike with him on it. They said "Get off the bike.", they wanted to steal it from him, but they didn't know they were dealing with the Bressems. Even though the two kids were much older and larger than us, Rick said flat out "No.". Then before a frog could leap Marty slashed out into the air with that bicycle sprocket he was holding and blood went everywhere as the heavy metal sprocket connected with the kid's head. We took off riding and it was over. Another big event that took place in these days was the day my mother caught her boy friend Louis in bed, somewhere, with another guy. She went crazy as usual, and brought him over to our house where she decided that we were going to help her kill him. So she feed him drugs in his food and when he passed out she fed him house hold bleach, thinking it would kill him. Then she put him in the car and us. She drove across the Mexican border and way down into Mexico. When we came to a very remote area, she left the highway and drove out into the desert. It was night time when she stopped the car alongside a steep ledge and pulled Louis's body out of the trunk of the car and told us to help her push him over the cliff. We did, and away Louis went rolling down the hill in Mexico, out in the middle of no where. We left and drove back home to Hawthorne thinking that we had killed him. But about a week later he showed up at the house and Mom went crazy. We never saw him again.

My mother always favored Marty, so much so that one time his bike was not working right and he would have had to walk to school, but instead of letting him walk to school she took my bike from me and let him ride my bike and made me walk to school. Frequently she would tell me that he was better than me on days when he could bring home money, but I couldn't, "Why can't you be as good as your little brother, etc."

Hawthorne didn't last too long, but it did last long enough for Mom to buy this little trailer like thing that could be pulled with a car. It was about five foot by six foot in length, width and about four feet high. Mom Modified it to be a kind of sleeping room for traveling, because that's what we were about to do. Many times during these days we would find ourselves living in tents in camp grounds up in the mountainous areas of south eastern California. I by no means remember the exact sequence of having lived in these places, I'd say we had already done so before now, in this story, but I could not place it so I'm putting those events here all as one episode. It is interesting to note that I had made a call to the FBI on a public pay phone telling them that my mother had stolen a bunch of furniture just before we left Hawthorne. It may have had something to do with our leaving. I didn't care I just wanted to destroy my mother somehow.

Most of these camp grounds where we lived often for months without food or anyway of cleaning ourselves, except bottles of cold water carried from a facet, were located in the area of Lake Elsinore, Temecula, Hemet, etc. I'll start the trips off in a camp ground called dripping springs, located on Ortega Highway in the mountains below Lake Elsinore. We went through so many so rapidly that it is difficult to remember each one. I was about fourteen years old when we started this episode and for me it would be the last episode of my life in which Mom was involved.

There were at least ten different camp grounds that we lived in, in tents and tiny trailers, but I can only really cover about four or so, because the others were eventless or it's just difficult to remember. In Dripping Springs camp ground the bathrooms were just out houses and most of our food we collected out of the trash cans after the weekends when the campers would come for the weekend. We lived in tents, with the one tiny trailer that Mom had bought in Hawthorne. Catching lizards, horny toads, and snakes was about all that there was to do. So that's how us kids spent most of our time. Running through the mountains lifting up rocks and catching reptiles, just like Mexico. Sometimes we would walk all the way down the mountain into Lake Elsinore just to get a few dollars for some food some how. I still remember finding walnut trees in Elsinore and how good it was to have free walnuts, if you could find some that were ready to eat. I also remember running down the side of that mountain into elsinore like a wild antelope from rock to rock skipping bushes and so on. I can even remember walking down the long winding road, about 10 miles, into elsinore just to go to a store.

Mom had brought these two dogs with us into the camp grounds. Both of them were the pedigreed kind, I don't know where she got them. One was a Maltese, and the other was a York shire terrier. She fussed over those dogs all the time, feeding them, even when we didn't have food. But living in a tent with dogs which must be pampered is kind of difficult. One day we were woke up early in the morning by the dogs barking. Mom, who I believe was taking a lot of reds or barbiturates these days, was becoming very mean and violent. The dogs barking and waking her up was too much for her. So she got out of the tent, grabbed a shovel that Gary had always kept around and started digging a hole in the ground. When she was finished digging she came back and got the two dogs, then threw them in the hole and buried them alive! Then she went back to the tent to go back to sleep as if nothing had happened. Gary, having saw what she did, thought that it was very cruel, so he took the shovel and dug the dogs back up. They were still partially alive. But Mom saw him do it and went into hysteria, "Don't you ever change what I have done" or something like that. She hit him and took the shovel from him. She then dug the hole deeper, went and got a bucket of water and put it in the hole, then she threw the dogs into the hole, with water and all, and proceeded to bury them alive, again. Till this day the bones of those two unlucky dogs must still rest in that shallow desert grave where Mom buried them alive so many years ago!

Once I got an idea to make some money while in this camp ground. I decided that since there was a lot of dried out scrub trees around and there were people coming camping every weekend that I could bundle up the wood into packages and sell them to the campers. It worked all right, but they would only pay about fifty cents a bundle. That then became a big past time up there in the mountain to collect wood to sell to the campers. Still things were not very pretty. Raiding people's camp sites while they were gone out hiking was a much easier way to get some fast food. And on at least one occasion that is just exactly what me and Rick did. We stolen a whole jar of peanut butter from this one picnic table where the campers had gone out hiking. I still recall how valuable that jar of peanut butter was to us. It was like a feast in a jar. We dug a hole and buried it so that we would not have to share it with everyone else, in which case it would not have lasted very long. As it was we went back periodically and ate that peanut butter whenever we had a blind moment free of the group and it lasted a long time. It makes me wonder sometimes did my other brothers do that sort of thing to me, or did Mom do it to me, after all she was a much better liar and cheat than I was!

The park rangers would always come around hassling Mom about paying the three dollars a day that it costed then to stay in a camp ground. She would get around it as often as she could. I think that on more than one occasion she had to do sexual favors just to live in the camp ground. But we soon were on our way to another camp ground about twenty miles down the mountain road.

At this new camp ground we had another small trailer, how I don't know. But sleeping in the tents was now past, we all had room in one of the two small trailers. This was nice to know being that those particular mountains were full of rattle snakes and black widow spiders. We started catching them and raising them in cages. Mom would catch the rattle snakes and raise then in barrels, I collected black widow spiders and raised them in jars. We started trying to catch fish for food because there was a stream in this camp ground. It was just up the road from a fancy little vacation place called Butterfield Country, and another private place called Glen Ivy. Me and my brothers would walk through the hills and sneak into Butterfield Country, because there were swimming pools, girls, and game centers. It was like being in a regular city with all tourists, weekenders. But we weren't supposed to be there because it was for paying customers only and the signs we climbed over to get in said it "No Trespassing Keep Out Private Property". But we went in any way.

It's notable to mention at this point that most of the time we spent in these mountain camp grounds we spent with neither shirts or shoes. We became like Billy goats with dark tans on our bodies from the constant exposure to the desert sun while we roamed the hills. Feet with calluses so thick that I never felt a single pain from rocks, streets, or anything else as a result of being bare footed. Shoes and shirts were luxuries that we had long since ran out of. In faded pants, sometimes way too big or small that were given to us by one or another charity, we searched the mountain trails and dammed the mountain streams with the same conviction and resolution as most of the gold diggers of old must have had done. Not knowing why, not caring, it was life, it was our life, and we did not spare but to live it to the fullest with what little we had.

Soon we were able to get into Butterfield Country. I don't know how. Perhaps it was one of those Mom tricks again, but we were there. And we had two trailers to live in and showers to use and a big lake to fish in. Girls were everywhere, and swimming pools to swim in. Even a water slide to slide down for a small fee. I can't remember ever sliding down the water slide, but I watched. You can just imagine those things and what we did. But there were some very strange things that happened and on those I will focus.

Mom was drugging up, as usual, most of the time. The park rangers were coming around like flies, each had to get their turn at the honey, and mom was getting real weird to say the least. One time she got into an argument with Gary, who was around eighteen years old now. In the argument Gary refused to listen to the same old BS that she had been feeding him for years. He had met this one girl from Salt Lake City, Utah, and he wanted to go with her to Utah. Mom went crazy. She got out her little twenty five automatic gun and started chasing my brother Gary around the resort, shooting at him. She never hit him, and it wasn't the weekend so there were not too many people around, but it was crazy. Gary ended up leaving for Utah with the girl and her family (Mother and father). So that is where our brother Gary exits this story, and it's the last time he ever saw Mom alive. The girls name was Lynette, and she would later be raped by some man in an abandoned house. Gary would leave her after trying to kill the man in a court room with a gun. But that's Gary's story.

On another occasion she wanted to take Marty and Rick somewhere and leave me behind, but she didn't trust leaving me to run around so she put me in that tiny 6x5x3 trailer which had only two tiny windows and no water or bathroom. After she left I was so pissed off that I busted out the window and crawled out of it. I don't know how because it was tiny, but I did.

I ran away from home for the first time from Butterfield Country. I got drunk with a bunch of kids and decided that I'd take off so I hitch hiked to the freeway, and then down the freeway into the city of commerce in Los Angeles where a trucker, thinking that I was a run away called the police and they came and brought me to jail. This time I went to an adult jail in a regular cell, even though I had committed no crime, except to leave home. Well, they sent me to Los Angeles central juvenile hall and I stayed there for about two months before my mother finally came to pick me up. All she had to do was come and get me, but she would not do it. Then finally she did and I went home to Butterfield Country.

Me, Rick and Marty spent most of our time after that down at Vail Lake trying to catch fish for our dinner. We caught a lot of fish most of the time and so hunger wasn't too much of a problem anymore. But it was hard work catching those fish everyday. There of course would be times of no luck at fishing. What our mother was doing all this time I don't know, she was probably courting some man somewhere getting drunk and drugged. We went to school in Hemet, California. Which was about thirty miles away, we had to get up early to catch a bus. We played with the other kids, and for the first time I started getting involved with other people and events around me.

I had become something of a long hair drug user in those days, with a little persuasion from the other kids in Hemet. I would ditch school most of the time and hang out in the park smoking marijuana and cigarettes. All the other school ditchers and drug users were becoming my friends. Back at home in the trailer park, Butterfield Country, Mom was as usual and my brothers were still listening to her, but I started deviating at this point and somewhat going my own way. My way wasn't exactly a beneficial way in those days. Soon we were to leave Butterfield Country, and move into another camp ground, or trailer park, which was just a little bit closer to Hemet, but deeper into no where. I believe it was called Oak Grove camp ground or something.

In Oak Grove camp ground there wasn't much to do. It was so extremely remote that just to catch the school bus we had to walk about two miles in the early morning hours and then again after school. Food again became a problem, and fishing a partial solution as there was a small man made lake in the trailer park and we fished it daily but often we would catch no fish or just little tiny ones that were not enough to feed everyone. Somewhere in this long saga Mom had met this Man in Minnesota named Bob Walworth. He had come from Minnesota to California with us, but I don't know when. As soon as we arrived in California he and Mom had decided that they would drop him off downtown Los Angeles on one of the major freeways and he would hitch hike to Alaska for work on the boats up there. I didn't know if they were married or what, in fact it was kind of strange that we dropped him off on the freeway like that. Although, Mom was in constant contact with him, even till that day. I guess as soon as he earned enough money they had plans to buy a house, but at the time I didn't know anything about this. It would soon start to happen, but not yet.

Now we were living in Oak Grove camp ground and taking the bus thirty miles to school. I started running away from home and going to live in Hemet with people that I had met in school, again and again. When I was with Mom in the camp ground we had no food, or anything else. When I was in Hemet with my friends their parents would feed me along with the rest of the family, they were a Mexican family and they freely gave me food and a place to stay, without ever asking why. Not having any money or anything, was a bit of a problem when I would be on my own in Hemet, so I'd sometimes do petty left at grocery stores to get food and cigarettes. I was caught on at least one occasion. I stuffed a pint of whiskey and a carton of cigarettes into my belt area of my pants and tried to walk out of the store when one or more citizens chased and caught me. I then had to sit in a room waiting for the police and while I was in there I ditched the whiskey so they only found the cigarettes on me. I remember thinking what a smuck that adult was to grab some kid for stealing and turn him in to the police.

But back up in Oak Grove camp ground things would get real bad sometimes. I recall this one period of time when we were so hungry, not catching any fish, we ventured over to the avocado orchard, which was about a mile away, and picked brick hard, green avocados. We had to bake them in the oven before they would get soft enough to be eaten, but the taste was so bad that till this very day I hate avocados. I was about fifteen when my journeys to Hemet with my friends started lasting months, that is I wasn't coming home any more to Oak Grove camp ground. I was staying in Hemet full time, using marijuana and drinking a lot of beer, regularly. When it came time for school I would just go directly to the park with all of the other kids who were ditching school and that is where I would stay for most of the day. Soon I got in with the thieves who hung out in the park, playing guitars and smoking dope.

On this one occasion they had some plans to burglarize some ladies house while she was at work, during the day, and they asked me if I wanted to come along. Not wanting to be left out, I agreed. The next thing I know we are in this ladies house stealing her jewelry and such. Then one of my friends said let's get out of here and we ran for the door. Well, as we arrived at the door a woman was walking towards it from the outside, she was the owner of the house. She knew the guys that I was with and she asked one of them, "What are you doing?" He did not respond we just took off running away. He said "I know where we can go, to a friends house." I just went along with them. We arrived at this one house and the other guy started explaining what had happened to the people who were apparently his friends and they let us in the house. We immediately ran to hide in the house. I went into the bedroom and hid under the bed, I don't know where the others went. But it wasn't long and there was a knock at the door, it was the police. They came in and began to search the house. I was frightened to death, then sure enough they came in the room where I was under the bed and just when I thought they were going to leave they lifted up the bed and found me. Off to jail I went with the others for felony burglary. Looking back I can tell this was all mason tricks to get me into the penal system. Those kids were out of jail almost as soon as they went in. The lady, who was their friend probably didn't even press changes against them, but I was to do a year in jail for this later on.

I was going crazy in that jail cell at the city jail, doing a lot of crying and so on, because I was convinced that I had really messed up this time, and I had, but I wouldn't know that for sure until about a year and a half later. They kept me in there for about three days in that tiny, dark cell and then my mother came and they let me out into her custody. She brought me to her house, which wasn't the Oak Grove camp ground anymore, but instead she had this big fancy house in Rancho California with a bedroom for each of us and a big lake right out the back door, a two car garage and everything we had never had. But it meant nothing to me, as I had been using drugs and so on so I don't think it even registered in my brain until years later. I told Mom that I wasn't staying there with her. In fact I told her that I wasn't even going to spend the night there with her in that house, I was leaving that same night to go back to Hemet. She pleaded with me and finally concluded that I should go to live with my brother in Utah. She said she would send me on a plane tonight and I agreed. I would never live with my mother again! A year later, when I came back from a long hitch hiking journey around the country she would die before I even had a chance to tell her where I had been.

I arrived in Salt Lake city Utah and my brother Gary Bressem picked me up and brought me to his apartment to stay. The apartment was very small and it was downstairs under a house. It consisted of two main rooms. I stayed in one room and he stayed in the other. My brother was working as a butcher at 8th Ave. Grocery and he got me a job there as a stock person. The reason Gary was in Salt Lake city in the first place was because of a girl named Lynette. He had moved to Salt Lake city Utah to be with her and somehow taken the job at the job at 8th avenue grocery which was located very near her house which was on 10th avenue straight up from the store.

In those days I knew very little about the society I was living in and was pretty weird as a result of my previous experiences with my mother and family. I smoked marijuana a lot and moving to Utah didn't change that. I spent my time in Utah working at the store and smoking marijuana at every moment I could sneak and get by with it. In my room at the apartment I had a dresser and it was full of marijuana pipes, the kind you screwed together to make different pipes, and other marijuana stuff. On the wall I had a poster of an Eagle swooping down on a mouse who held his finger up flipping the Eagle off, the poster had the word "Defiance" written on it.

One day I decided to start growing my own marijuana. So I bought a book from the local head shop and read it. It wasn't long afterwards that I decided that my brother's closet was a good place to set up a marijuana garden. I put a grow light in there and a pot with dirt and marijuana seeds in it. I also bought a paddle lock for the door of the closet so that others couldn't get to my plant. Everything all set up I went out someplace for the day, maybe to work at the store, I can't remember. What I do remember is that when I returned the paddle lock on the door was broken open and my plant was crushed and broken. I immediately realized that it was the work of my brother Gary Bressem. He had always been preaching to me about how bad marijuana was. (Interesting to note that some 11 years later back in Anaheim, California, 10 years after I had completely given up all drugs except beer, my brother Gary Bressem comes up high on marijuana telling me "You were right, this stuff is good!". Apparently some girl had talked him into smoking some and he really liked it. I of course had given it up years before and looked at him as some kind of an imbecile to have made the previous judgment and now to be standing in front of me telling me this.) Well his destroying my marijuana plant was more than I was willing to tolerate so I grabbed his sleeping bag off of a chair in his room, rolled it and tied it up and without so much as a change of clothes or money I walked straight for the interstate highway to hitch hike away from Utah, headed east, and my brother. In my life I have spent years on the interstate highways of America. There is an emotional connection between myself and the solitude of an interstate highway reaching far into unknown lands.

I still remember standing there along the side of the interstate highway, something I would do many times again, waiting for the first ride out of Utah. Eventually the ride came and I was in Wyoming. I can't quiet remember how many rides it took to get there but the next thing I remember it was night time and the ride I had, which was a family in a station wagon packed with vacation stuff, left me off someplace out in the middle of no place. It was extremely dark, I guess it was because there were no cities any place near by. But there was a KOA camp ground just across the freeway and it looked like home to me, so I headed straight to it. When I arrived inside the camp ground I walked up to somebody's camp site and asked them if I could roll out my sleeping bag in their camp and stay the night. The person said yes, so I did just that. I didn't even deal with the management of the place. Dealing with the world and business on normal terms wasn't even a thing I knew about. I woke in the morning, showered in the camp ground showers and was back on the freeway hitch hiking toward Cheyenne, Wyoming. It didn't take long before I got my next ride and was soon in Cheyenne. I remember standing on the freeway hitch hiking when a police car showed up. They asked me the regular questions, who was I, where was I from, etc. and they brought me to the police station. At the police station they called my brother and had me tell him that I could not hitch hike in Wyoming and I needed money to take a Grey hound buss back to Utah. My brother Gary Bressem agreed to send the money western union. I told the police that he was sending the money and they brought me down to the place that does the western union so that I could wait. I waited for the money, collected it, then walked around Cheyenne for a few moments as if I was a tourist and bought a few trinkets. I bought some water proof matches and a post card to send to my brother Gary Bressem telling him thanks for the money, but I wasn't returning. Instead I was going to catch the bus to Denver, Colorado so that I could visit the rocky mountains. I probably thought I was going to live in the rocky mountains for the rest of my life at the time, but I was wrong. All those songs about the Rocky mountains are what had me thinking that was the place to go.

While on the Grey hound bus headed towards Denver I met some other kid about my age who was kind of thrilled that I was going on an adventure. He told me to visit him in Denver if I could and I thought nothing of it. When I arrived in Denver it was dark and I had no map, even if I had had a map I don't think I knew how to read one yet. It didn't matter to me, I just chose a direction that looked like it lead to the mountains and started walking carrying my sleeping bag. I must have been walking for many hours because I still remember seeing so many houses and streets passing by as I thought about how lonely life was. Eventually the police showed up once again and the police man told me I couldn't be wandering down the streets all night alone. To that I had no answer. I told him that I was going to visit a friend, the kid I met on the bus, but I didn't tell him I had just met the kid on the bus. Instead I made it look like I knew the kid very well. The police man asked me where he lived and I said I don't know exactly, but I know his name, which I did. I knew the kids full name somehow. The police man took me to a phone booth and looked up the name in a phone book. We found the kids house and he drove me over to it. When we arrived the lights were all out and the family looked to be in bed, but after knocking the door was answered and the kids mother opened the door. I told her that I was friends with her son and asked if I could talk to him. She brought her son, who was no more than a young boy like myself and he confirmed that we were friends. I then told his mother my situation and how I needed a place to sleep for the night because the police said I could not be on the streets. She told me that I could not stay at the house. I then asked her if I could simply roll out my sleeping bag and sleep on the front lawn. She again said that I could not. I didn't know what to do then. I didn't want the police to bring me to Juvenile hall just because I had no place to sleep. The police officer took me back in the car and we were driving someplace I didn't know. I was a bit scared because I thought I was going to jail. When the police officer stopped the car near a field and said "sleep out there in your sleeping bag I don't think anybody will see you" and he let me out of the car. I was very happy. Then I went out into the field and rolled out my sleeping bag for the night.

When I woke up in the morning I continued my walk towards the rocky mountains, only now it was day time and I could see the mountains. I walked all day and can't remember much about it except a few vegetable markets that I passed along the way. The next thing I know I was in the area I now know to be Golden, Colorado and I was walking towards the rocky mountains. I wasn't hitch hiking because I wasn't looking to meet any more police today. It wasn't long and someone stopped asking me if I wanted a ride and I said yes so I went into the rocky mountains. I still remember how over whelmed I was by all the trees and scenery. The driver was a hippie. After a long drive through winding mountain roads filled with trees and partially cloudy skys he left me off in a the town of Grand Lake, Colorado.

I immediately walked towards a small hill over looking the small town and laided out the sleeping bag. I decided that I would live up there on the hill, but first I would walk down and take a look around town. So having left my sleeping bag on the hill I walked down the hill into the town. I noticed that it was kind of a western town with wood rails for tying horses and such. I walked towards the horse tying rails where there was also something of a wooden side walk. As I approached there were three or four young girls standing near the rail all looking intently at me. After all I was not wearing a shirt and my skin must have been very brown. My feet were better than any pair of boots and my skin new both the hot of the California sun and the cold of the desert nights. The girls began saying something to me and the next thing I knew I was following them into there house.

Once in the house it was apparent that the parents were not in the house because the girls started becoming mischievous. I don't know how it happened, but I remember laying on the floor on my back while three or four young girls rubbed all over my arms and chest adoring my brown skin, of course I didn't know that then, but now I do. I also didn't have much of a chest, or rather didn't have any chest at all. I was just a skinny brown skinned poor kid who had wondered into the mountains. Soon the girls had told me to come back later in the night when their parents where in bed. They told me to come to the back window of the house on a porch which was elevated above the ground by about one floor. I told them that I would, I think, but I had no intention of returning because I didn't even live any place around there. So I walked a small distance down the road, sleeping bag in hand to the highway I front of a restaurant called Southways Lodge. I then stood there in front of the place trying to hitch hike and it started raining on me. I didn't like the rain, not having a shirt and all. A man came out of the restaurant and I noticed that he was smoking a cigarette, so I asked him if he had a cigarette that I could have. He replied that he did not have a cigarette, got into a car and drove away. I continued to stand there waiting for a ride without luck. There weren't many cars up in those mountains and the rain didn't make things easier. Then a car pulled into the restaurant and a man came out of the car smoking a cigarette. So I called out and ask him if he had an extra cigarette that I could have and he said "No, you just got done asking me" and I remembered that it was the same man. He he. But still no cigarette and a little time passed. I was worried about night fall being in the mountains in the rain with only a sleeping bag and where I would sleep when out came the man again. He asked me if I would like a temporary job doing dishes saying that they didn't have a dish washer. He told me I could stay up stairs in one of the restaurant apartment rooms if I would work as a dishwasher. And he said I could eat for free. Still the last thing I wanted was to get tied down to some dishwashing job and I remember thinking that maybe I could do it just for a few hours to get some cigarettes. I agreed to wash dishes and he lead me into the restaurant. It was a very busy place and I wasn't to disappointed with the room they gave me to live in.

I lived there in that lodge doing dishes and living up stairs for the whole summer of that year. I did go back and see the girl at her house in the town and we had sex. It was the first time I had had sex in my life. She was all wanting me to come around again and again but I didn't really want to I was busy working at southways. I was getting drunk with all those adults who seemed to be of a richer sort than I was familiar with. I never spoke much, but I watched them having their dinners and talking forever. When summer ended I was offered a ride to the East coast and I accepted the ride. After being in Boston, Maine and a few other places for a while I hitch hiked back to Denver, Colorado and was living in a baseball park with some other hitch hikers I had met. I was doing burglaries to get money and spending most of my time at a kids game center. until one day I stole some money from one of the kids who was acting all big because he had a real job, unlike the rest of us. He turned me in for the burglaries and off to jail I went. I spent about 3 months in that jail before they put me on a plain and sent me back to my mother in California. I was 16 years old.

I Become Aware Of The Freemason Cult In 1999!
I'm inserting a text I wrote separately here to complete this.

 By James Allen Bressem

(Auto Biography continued on Saturday February 2,2003)

I had lived a not so happy life up until the age of 38 years old. My mother had been a prescription drug addict with no education who had divorced our father when I was too young to remember. She survived, and raised me and my three brothers. When my mother died, apparently of suicide, in December of 1978 I thought that the drama was finally over. I was 16 years old and a very anxious and unhappy kid. Me and my brothers sat in the house where she had died for about a month even after her death because we had no idea of where to go and we had moved around so much that we had few or no friends in any one place. I had been out of state just prior to her dying as life was so bad with her that frequently I opted for living as a run away on the streets which got me involved in crime.

The first bad crime I was ever involved in was a burglary. It was about a year prior to my mothers death and I was about 15 years old. At the time I didn't even know what a mason was, but looking back I can see that even this early crime in which I was involved was a Masonic set up. I used to ditch school and hang out in the park across from Hemet Junior high school. In the park were a motley bunch of drug using kids and school ditchers. I became one of them. Soon I was involved with pretty much every thing happening in that park, but I wasn't involved in crime. Then one day some other kids in the park asked me if I wanted to make some money. I was game and they lead me to a house and we proceeded to break in. While we were in the house a woman came home and started screaming so we took off running, but the woman knew one of the guys and she called him by his name as we ran. So the other kids went to one of their houses and I followed along. We decide to hide under the bed in one of the bedrooms, because this house wasn't too far from the house that was burglarized a minute ago and we feared the police might come as the woman knew the guy. Little did I know that these kids were in fact masons and this was all a set up to get me into the California judicial system. The cops came and the first thing they did was come into the bedroom and lift up the bed. We went to jail. I was sitting in a one man cell at the jail and feeling pretty bad. Soon the police released the others but not me. It was the beginning of a long road of failure for me in the state of California which I can see now was all set up by the freemasons.

I left the state shortly after this to avoid going to court and possibly jail. I spent some time hitch hiking around the country and eventually came back to California just prior to my mothers death. While gone I had encountered the masons, legitimately - in a lodge, for the first time in the mountains of Colorado at Grand Lake, Southways Lodge where they had given me a job doing dishes. I can tell that they were aware of who I was and setting me up even back in those days because looking back I can remember seeing some of the things that till this day they are still trying to get me involved in. For example when the summer was over in Grand Lake Colorado they conveniently had an employee who was headed to the east coast, Boston to be exact, and he offered me a ride to Boston. I had no place else to go and they knew that. Once in Boston I didn't like the place they put me to live so I left. I ended up in a house in Augusta Maine and I still remember that there were conveniently located in that house a set of drums. I never used the drums, but the masons had set them there because that was their goal with me, to turn me into a non interfering entertainer or musician, something they could make money off of. They were playing with the wrong kid because I can remember even then, at 15 years old, thinking "looks like somebody is trying to guide me into music". Till this very day I'm still in a mason safe house, because they messed up my entire life and if you look in the front room there is a drum set which was just conveniently located here where I'm living right now (1826 Laurel Canyon Blvd.) and they are still trying to get me into music even though I'm 41 years old. I have no interest in music so they are wasting their time. But they are only interested in making money by robbing the people and so everybody to them is ether a source of money or a dead man. Especially my type, that is the type which they have purposely exposed to great hardship and suffering precisely for the purpose of creating striving, hard working money makers for themselves.

After my mother's death me and my brother Rick began working in building construction. We moved to Anaheim, CA and were living however possible for kids with no family. It wasn't long and my brother Marty was right there with us and we were all doing building construction. I had a girl friend named Janet Amish and one day she and her family were going away on some vacation, or was it just a Masonic manipulation I don't know, and it upset me so much that I used a bunch of valiums and drank a lot of alcohol. I was so intoxicated that when I went to a phone booth to call a friend of mine I dialed the wrong number and got hold of some girl I didn't even know by dialing one digit wrong. Funny but looking back I can see that this was also a Masonic manipulation because never again has such a thing taken place nor had it before. A girl who I didn't even know started acting all friendly and invited me to her house. I went out looking for the house she said she lived in, very intoxicated and arrived in the location after dark. I could not find the house, but I did notice a window on one of the apartments in the apartment complex where she was supposed to have lived wide open without a screen. Well the masons had gotten me involved in doing burglaries long before this at the young age of 15 year old (three years earlier). And the first thought that came to my mind was to go into the house and steal some money. I had a job and would not have ever came to such a conclusion, but the girl got me in the area, and now the window was conveniently wide open in the middle of the night after the masons had already introduced me to the idea of stealing in this way. So sure as they set up my entire life I went into that window and stole a bunch of jewelry. Shortly afterwards the police came to the location and arrested me for burglary and sentenced me to the California youth authority until I was 25 years old. Interesting to is that in the stolen property they claim was a pill bottle that I had stolen which lead them to the address which was burglarized, but I had stolen no pills. I didn't even go into the bathroom of the house. They planted that pill bottle on me. I spent all of those years in the CYA (California youth authority) and was released at age 25. But nothing was over yet, in fact it had only just begun, but I didn't know it at the time. My brothers all got married and had lives of their own but I had nothing except a tremendous amount of education. Interesting to note here also is that in those early years as a burglar I would rob people's houses and walk straight into jewelry stores and sell the stolen property at age 15, 16 and the store keepers wouldn't say anything wrong about it. In fact they even put in specific orders with me, telling me that they wanted pieces of jewelry which looked like this and that. One time I had been stealing so many calculators and typewriters that some large carpet firm, literally told me that they would buy all the stuff I stole but that if I ever got caught not to tell on them. I never did. But masons are two faced liars and it took me many years to know the full truth of what they are. They talk all that hush hush don't be a traitor shit then they send your ass to jail because they are lying traitors.

Well when I got out of jail at 25 years old I was a new man. I had spent that entire time reading hundreds of books and I knew a great deal about world history, business, politics, and many of the sciences. I was heavily into following the rich classes because I had concluded that they were the source of humanities problems. What I didn't know was that the rich were very much aware of me also, through the freemasons, and had a plan for what they wanted to do with me even then.

This is where the exciting stuff begins: I was released from the CYA and my brother Rick, who was a contractor now, came to pick me up. He brought me out to the area where he lived in rancho California. I stayed in a Hotel in Lake Elsinore, Ca on the southern most end of main street. The Hotel was about a six story building and was the last building on the south side of main street in lake elsinore just before it ended dividing into two other roads heading east and west. He came by each morning to pick me up for work and we would drive out to orange county to do various construction jobs. If you can imagine I was a somewhat confused person at age 25, having gone through all the things which I had gone through, but it wasn't over and I'm going to show you that the freemasons orchestrated all of it and destroyed my entire life and now they want to simply brush me under the rug, but I'm not going easy. Work was getting slow and me and Rick had to drive long distances to find it. I spent all these hours of driving telling my brother Rick about the rich and how they control society robbing the people. Rick is my most intelligent brother of the three and he picked up on the truth real fast. I was passing out flyers and being what might be called a real pain in the rich man's ass from Lake Elsinore, Ca. Every where I went I would talk only about the rich and the poor problem and I had just finished reading a book called "None dare call it conspiracy" by Gary Allen and was working on reading a book called "The rich and the super rich" by Ferdinand Lundberg. To say the least I was obviously a political dissident and I had a very accurate picture of what was happening even at 25 years old. I had been having sex with many girls in the Lake Elsinore area because I had been in jail for many years and well you know, but one lady was of particular interest here. Her name was Diane and she worked as the barmaid in a little bar just north of the hotel I was living in on the east side of main street in Lake Elsinore. She was extremely skinny and at the time I knew nothing about AIDS, but she had a brother who was from Hollywood and she had said that he was gay. I had sex with Diane on at least one occasion. I have AIDS and it was from her there at age 25 that I acquired it. I can remember her having some strange dark spots on her skin, but at that time I didn't know what it meant and she said nothing about it. Funny that she would be there tending that little bar when she was from a wealthy family. I'm inclined to think that even she was a set up by the masons to try to eliminate me. What they didn't know and I didn't know at the time was that chewing tobacco is a very potent antibacterial in the blood of a human and I was and still am a frequent tobacco chewer. Any plans they might have had of killing me with AIDS and or disease failed as I never got sick thanks to my tobacco. Anyway so it's obvious that they are not concerned with "Public Health" because if I have AIDS, I have had it for 18 years now. If I have it the masons are the ones who set me up to get it and they would be the only ones who would know that I had it. After watching their actions towards me I have realized that they are treating me as if they could "kill me by getting me sick" which implies that they know more than they should know. 

Soon a job came from Encino, Ca.. It was a large house and it needed to be dry walled, plastered, taped and finished. Me and Rick would drive each day all the way out to the San Fernando valley, from Lake Elsinore to do this construction job. Money was tight. I was living in a weekly hotel (the one in elsinore) and needed money every week to pay my bills. I now know that this is exactly how the masons control everything and every body, by controlling their money supply. The job in Encino was not paying as it should have. I mean the people were rich, that was obvious from the size and location of the house but they refused to pay my brother and as a consequence I did not get paid. This was beginning to become a big problem because me and my brother were both living on the edge of financial collapse. I had lost the hotel room in Lake Elsinore and was sticking around the job site in Encino, showering with the hose in the basement of the house. My brother was doing this also. In the time we had been traveling back and forth Rick had met some female in a restaurant along the way in the valley on ventura blvd. We had gone to her house a few times and started hanging around there a lot as the money became slow and the job was not paying. My brother had a red truck and he could come and go as he pleased, but I had nothing and was stuck in Encino many times waiting for the next day to go back to the job in the hope that it would eventually pay.

Eventually the day came that we completely ran out of money. I went to the house where Rick's girlfriend lived because they conveniently told me that I could stay there for a small fee. Rick went someplace else. This was approximately the year 1986 and I was 25 years old. I didn't know it at the time but all of these events had been orchestrated by the freemasons in an effort to isolate me first from my family and then to send me down a coarse in life that they could manage me, alone. I have only seen my brother again 1 time since these days and that was about 15 years ago. although I have spent most of that time trying to locate them. Masons in the various organizations will not give out contact information even though some of them have known my entire family for 40 or more years, like the 440 lather local (union) in Santa Ana, CA. The workers at that mason union have known my entire family for years, but when I call asking about my brothers they refuse to give me any information. They tell me "your brothers don't want to hear from you". The masons try to trump up some bullshit about me being a criminal and bad so it is the reason for the separation between me and my brothers, but it is a dead faced lie because my brothers are and always have been much bigger criminals than I am and the masons know it because they are involved in nearly every crime in this society.

I was on my own, in an alien city, Hollywood, the valley, and I was quite confused by all the events of my life that had been changing so fast since I was born. I didn't have time to figure out who I was where I was or why. I just got stuck in the rich man's Masonic game without knowing that they even existed. It wasn't long and I had no job at all. I was wondering the streets of the valley and Hollywood not exactly knowing what to do. I had read many books in jail, but it had all happened so fast that the knowledge had not sunk in yet. I knew one thing and I still know it now and that is that I'm Not gay, nor have I ever been gay. But as it was a life orchestrated by Masonic manipulations. I was living in the valley, but still went back to Lake Elsinore occasionally via the bus routes just to go to try to find females. So I would be sometimes on the streets of Hollywood Blvd, Sunset Blvd, and Santa Monica blvd very late at night trying to catch the last bus going either way. And I had met several gays who had offered me money for sexual favors. I started going down that road because all the gays wanted was to play with my penis and I didn't think it could hurt me as long as I didn't touch them and so it was. The masons had taken me from a poor political dissident kid, to jail for most of my young life and then to be a male prostitute in Hollywood. Oh they wasted no time telling me about the classier male prostitution joints in Hollywood. It was just the first few days of being in this bad situation when a rich gay had told me that I could make a lot of money in the bar called Numbers, which used to be located at the corner of laurel canyon and sunset in Hollywood but it has now been relocated to santa monica blvd and renamed. I spent years going to that bar with the rich fags because I was completely disoriented and didn't have the money or the time to figure out what else to do. I didn't know where my brothers were and didn't know how to start trying to find them, so I didn't. The encounters at Numbers were the same as all the encounters I had with the gays in Hollywood, that is they wanted to touch my penis and I let them do it for money, after all I was Not gay and would not even had been there had I known a way out, but I didn't and I had no family, no options. Looking back I can see that this was exactly what the masons had wanted to get me into. In fact I can now see that many of these people calling themselves gay must have been manipulated into similar conditions and were not at all gay in the beginning. Well I was different, I was not gay, and although I had found myself in this unlikely and undesirable situation with gays still I was determined to Not Be Gay. After all I had no attraction to men and I still have no attraction to men today.

I adjusted my stability of mind coping with this gay scenario by taking drag queens for girl friends. The first of which was a blonde haired drag queen I met in Hollywood one night while trying to get home to the valley on a bus . Her name was Tiffany (Cecil Brewster from Indianapolis, Indiana) and to me she looked exactly like a girl so she was a girl. I was playing games with my own mind, but I didn't know it then, all I knew was that I was all alone and needed some companionship. These drag queens filled the bill and off I went on a journey that lasted the next 13 years before I woke up to realize what was happening. I was the one to break the news to the public that the freemasons were the ones controlling the media, commerce, and people's lives back in 1998. I found the answers by perpetually searching for the reasons why my life was so messed up and every road lead to a thing I didn't even know at the time which was freemasonry. I could see none of it, nor did I have any proof, but I speculated miles down a thread of assumptions and concluded that all those people we see on TV are masons and this entire society is being orchestrated by freemasons even before I looked at where I was in life and realized that I was living "IN A MASONIC SAFE HOUSE" at that very time. The masons have this entire society worked out like a farm and every vegetable is located where it can make them the most profit and cause them the least pain and discomfort. I realized that I had been living in such houses and with such Masonic affiliates every since they failed to pay my brother Rick for the Encino job and thereby separated me from my family permanently. I haven't had a steady job since, nor a life.

The male prostitution didn't last very long because I wasn't gay and I hated being with gays, even though they were all very rich and some of them even asked me to live with them in luxurious mansions and so on. I rejected all offers and went back to my basal life of poverty with drag queens. Soon the drag queens were supporting me because I didn't have a clue what else to do with myself and nobody was telling me anything because I had no family. This went on for about 13 years. I traveled the country in cheap cars wanted a woman but finding only drag queens because they were easier to get than women and I didn't have much of anything. I certainly didn't have a stable life. I did construction for low wages here and there but it wasn't near enough money to gain any ground anywhere, so I would just keep moving on. Something I didn't mention yet was the kind of relationship I would have with these drag queens was anything but comfortable. Meaning I would be trying in my mind to pretend that they were females, so they could never be seen without their female clothing or habits in my presence. And the touchy feely side of the relationship was one sided also, I never even looked or wanted to see that they might have male sexual organs. So I never saw and they never showed. But it was very uncomfortable to me as such because I could not hold them as one would a women with that lose carelessness that one feels when one is "at home with someone". Instead it was a constant game for me. I would treat them as sex objects and never really touch them in romantic ways as one might a real woman. I just used them to fulfill my sexual needs and never let myself feel lose and easy while in their presence because I knew that they were really men and I honestly wanted no part of it. I decided I could put my real life completely on hold until I could find a better way to support myself and then I would be away from drag queens.

Eventually I went back to California and sought out my brothers, at about 1990. I found my brother Marty and he got me a job for Pierce construction down in long beach, CA. I was living with a Mexican drag queen at the time and chasing female hookers every time I got a little money on the side before and after work. This job was the last time I ever saw my brothers. I was living in Hollywood, because I had established a little history there, as was the mason plan, and traveling to Long beach for the job. Something I hadn't mentioned yet was that I had wrote a book while in the CYA six years earlier and the name of the book was "The final thesis on Human life", which can be found on the internet now at the following locations: http://members.fortunecity.com/ucomism/philos.htm

I had been thinking about all of these things all these years. It was eventually my goal to take this book someplace and I also still wanted to expose the rich. So I bought my first computer in these days and began to teach myself computer programming while editing my book. Soon the job was over and I had a little money so I decided to go to Washington D.C and protest the rich. The job market was slow, if at all, in California for construction workers at that time and getting another job was not going to be possible. My brothers had pulled strings to get me the jobs I had because having been subjected to the things I had by the masons and the penal system I had no time to become good at construction. I was not the best but I got the jobs because of my brothers. It's instrumental to note that the wives of my brothers were also instrumental in my decline by talking me down to my brothers as a loser and so on, even though it was their Masonic family ties that had set me up to go to those jails. Even if I committed the crimes, setting up crimes to cause a person to think about doing a crime is also a crime. It is called instigating crime, "aiding and abetting", and I was only a eightteen year old confused kid. So it was a cruel and heinous act on the part of the masons and their collaborators who now laughed and talked me down behind my back to my brothers as a loser because they had set me up. I have learned much about the masons as I will tell you, but this is a particularly heinous side of them. They set you up and destroy you little by little and then sit on the side lines and laugh about it, telling you that they can't help you because you are too messed up. They are sick people who care only about their money, or should I say the people's money that they steal.

So I went to the east coast, but never made it to Washington D.C. I ended up going to New York, and looking back I wonder how much of this was manipulated because I ended up on the streets of New York city and the first day I arrived some Porto Rican kids were throwing bottles at me and busted my ankle. I wobbled around New York city with a broken ankle carrying a back pack with a sleeping bag and all on a broken ankle and man it hurt. Soon I was back in the situation the masons had created for me. I was living with a drag queen in New York city. But I was sick of it and New York was way to expensive. I had been in about ten street fights already and I wanted out so I took what money I had and bought a Grey hound bus ticket into Pennsylvania someplace and started hitch hiking from there back to California.

When I got back to California I hid my sleeping bag in the bushes beside a freeway over pass in the valley and headed for Hollywood. I went into the bar called peanuts at the time, which used to be a hang out for drag queens and their admirers. I met a drag queen by the name of Sara Heydari and soon was living at her apartment in the valley. I was keeping up with my study of computer programming and spent nearly all of my time at a computer those days. I just spent all of my time on the computer spreading information about the rich and the poor situation in the world today still not knowing that I was a specific victim. Then one day Sara Heydari, the drag queen I was living with, introduced me to Roy Schallert, the person I'm living with right this moment as I write this memo 5:34PM, Saturday 02/01/2003.

Roy Schallert was a programmer also and he did commodity futures speculating on the side so we had at least programming in common. I talked to him about commodities and it was interesting to me so I learned it. He got me a few jobs at the L.A. Health department as a rudimentary programmer and life with Sara Heydari went on in Reseda, Ca.

Sara Heydari wanted to become a real woman, it was her obsession, and I helped as much as I could by writing some letters and going with her for her sex change operations, at least some of them. Me and Sara Heydari moved to Martel street in Hollywood and she ran an add in the L.A...XPress magazine to make money off prostitution and I was sitting in the apartment full time with a computer watching the commodity markets and trading on Roy Schallert's account. Roy Schallert was also paying all of our bills. Sara Heydari had been real friendly with him and she had gotten him to pay for everything. I personally never had any sexual contact with Roy Schallert then nor have I had any contact with him till this day, but Sara got me into the picture as a programmer. Soon I had become good friends with Roy Schallert and was spending a good amount of time over at his house at 1826 laurel canyon Blvd, Los Angeles. I didn't know anything about it at the time but all of this shit was set up. Even Roy Schallert, brother of the actor William Schallert who was big in the patty duke show years ago, was and is one of the Masonic affiliates who had been manipulating my life since way back when they first separated me from my brother Rick in Encino so that they could take over control of my life.

Sara Heydari had her sex change and became as close to a real woman as a transgender can ever be. On one occasion prior to this Sara had gone to one of her prostitution customers houses in her Jeep and I went with her. I sat in the car while she went in and did her stuff. You have to understand that I felt no attachment to drag queens because I wasn't gay anyway. I was only using them, at least it's what I thought, the masons obviously saw it another way entirely. I waited in the Jeep for Sara Heydari and eventually she came out about an hour later. I was a bit pissed off to say the least because I had sat there that entire time with nothing to do. So I screamed at Sara, telling her all kinds of stuff about I was going to whoop her ass back at the house etc. I never hurt anybody in my life, but life had taught me that you have to be stern. We went to the the store on the way back and I went in to get something she split and left me their. Well I went back to the apartment packed up my things and was gone that same night. What I didn't realize was that this whole thing had been another Masonic setup to get me back into jail.

She went immediately over to our friend Roy Schallert's house that night and they proceeded to put makeup on Sara's face to make it look as if I had beat her up. I was on probation at the time and I had a joint suspended sentence of 3 years. They wanted to violate my probation just before it terminated in about another few months. They, Roy Schallert, Angela (frank) Vivier, and Sara Heydari put makeup on Sara Heydari and brought her to the police department saying that I James Allen Bressem had beat her. The police filed a police report and issued a warrant for my arrest. I was out of state at the time and had no idea about any of this. Roy Schallert has been instrumental in setting me up several times now as you will see but I have no place else to turn for a place to stay because the masons refuse to give me work and they do not want me out in the public because I know to many of the gritty details of their operations so they keep providing a place for me here, but always with some sneaky strings attached. I had been staying at Roy Schallert's house, just after me and Sara lived at the Martel street address, and it was from there that I bought a cheap Honda civic and took off on a voyage across the country once again trying to get my head together and my life.

I ended up in Atlanta Georgia and took up with a philipino drag queen. I stayed out there for about a year roaming around doing construction and dragging my computers along with me with the hope of someday being a computer programmer for a living. Things got bad in Atlanta about a year later and I came back to California. On my way back to California I was hit by a semi truck and it completely destroyed my little Honda. The driver of the truck gave me 600 dollars and I didn't call the police because hell I didn't like them anyway and I was drunk.

So I get back to California and I go to Roy Schallert asking for some money help, he gives me a chicken's share of help and I'm staying in the Gilbert hotel on Wilcox in Hollywood. One day I'm on the streets, about 3 days after my arrival and the police pick me up for a warrant. I'm curious what the warrant is all about and sure enough it was the set up that Roy Schallert, Angela Vivier, and Sara Heydari had done with the make up lying and saying I beat her up. So I'm back in jail. I'm sitting there wondering how I could be in jail for beating somebody up when I never even touched Sara. It wasn't until years later that I was at Roy Schallert's house and saw the pictures of Sara with make up which made her look as if beat up and Roy Schallert told me that they had done all that, he confessed.

I sat in Jail for about 40 days for a crime the masons and their collaborators set me up for but I never did. Apparently they decided half way through the case that they didn't have enough evidence to convict me, so they decided to try something else. I didn't know this until just recently, but looking back it all makes sense. I was sent to court on one of these occasions while in this jail for the crime I didn't do. When the jail bus arrived at the court they did something they had never done before in all the time that I have been going in and out of the LA court system and that was put me into a small one man cell with one other person who was some really girlish fag boy. While I was in that cell this fag boy started shaking his ass around and acting like a drag queen. He started talking about sex and so on. I really wasn't interested, after all he looked like a boy, not a girl. Although he was very feminine acting. He began to tease me to take him sexually. He was insinuating that I rape him in that cell and toying with the idea as if he wanted it. I thought about it for a minute and said to myself this doesn't look right. On the bus back to the jail the fag told me I should have raped him because he wanted it. Now looking back I can see that this was yet another attempt by the masons to "put me away for a very long time". They wanted me to do something with that fag boy and they would have came in caught me and arrested me for rape, or sodomy or whatever it is. But like many times before and many times to come the masons failed. I did nothing and slide straight through the incident.

I got out of Jail and went to live at Roy Schallert's house not knowing that he was a part of that whole set up for which I had just been in jail.  So I'm at Roy Schallert's house and living in a guest house here where Cheech Mariner (from cheech and Chong) lived once upon a time. Incidentally he came and told Roy Schallert he was moving his stuff out and vacating the place soon after my arrival. (All these masons are working together). And I went over into that guest house to live for a while. While I was there some rich kid named Greg showed up one day with a marijuana cigarette in his hand acting like some cool guy pretending to be friendly. I greeted him as I would any other drug user and went back to my computer to continue whatever it was I was doing at the time.

Then I moved into the big house at Roy Schallert's place and Greg and his druggy friends moved into the guest house. They started dealing drugs out of there and later there was a shooting right here at Roy Schallert's house which crippled this one drug dealer guy for life. It had nothing to do with me so I wasn't involved. But you can see what I mean by MASON SAFE HOUSE now, these are houses where the masons unload people who they are trying to kill. They just keep trying to do insidious deeds day after day after day until they succeed. Which happened for this poor drug dealer guy, but still hasn't happened for me because I've been smart enough to out wit the masons all these years. And now I'm still alive to tell the story.

Well eventually the masons wanted me out of here. So they had Greg and his druggies attack me with clubs and broke my right arm. But that didn't work so they decided to try hooking me up with Roy Schallert's house boy, who is a drag queen (Angela Vivier). I spent a little time hanging out with Angela, but I'm not a fag and it was bound to go under. One day Angela walked with me down to the record store at the corner of Laurel canyon and Sunset blvd. where she then asked me what I liked and I said "Black Sabbath" and she bought the album. But when I got back to Roy Schallert's house and was looking for the album later that night I couldn't find it. Then I found out that Angela (Frank) Vivier had hid the album and was playing some little kids game of, if I buy you things you have to obey me, and I was pissed off. I got drunk and busted a modem against the wall and told Roy Schallert give me some money cause I'm leaving this house. I had a little white Honda and I was ready to get out of here. When I stay at Roy Schallert's house it isn't a pretty picture first off. I sleep downstairs on these tiny chair like couches about 3/4 the size of a man's body and live in a dirty nasty environment. I work all day and night on computers and have no life basically. So it is pretty easy to get to the point where I want out. And I did on that particular night. So Roy Schallert and I and Angela Vivier drive down to the bank on the corner of Santa Monica and laurel Canyon blvd. I didn't know it at the time but the masons had this shit all set up in advance. They had turned me into a semi racist while I was in the CYA back many years ago.

Back when I was doing a probation violation in the CYA one time up in Sacramento California for a crime that the masons had set me up for I was wanting to lift the weights and the only people lifting weights were the blacks so it ended up where I was hanging around the blacks all the time because they lifted weights and the whites did not. Now later on when I went to the CYA in Chino a mason from back up in Sacramento started spreading rumors about me being a "Black lover" up in Sacramento. This is bad news in the CYA system. So the whites put me on the leva and I did a year in that jail without any of the criminal friends, which were the only friends the masons allowed me to have given the life they set me up for, wouldn't even talk to me. It was at this time that I wrote my book in a one man sell completely isolated inside and out from everything a man might love and respect in life by the freemasons and their affiliates. I did not know that then, but I do now. Well needless to say when I got out of that jail after a year of rejection and hatred from the whites for being friendly (lifting weights in the yard) with the blacks I had been converted into a racist.

I drive to the bank in my car and Roy Schallert and Angela Vivier drive to the same bank in Roy Schallert's Green jeep Cherokee. But I'm drunk in the parking lot with Roy Schallert and Angela and he is handing me 200 dollars. These masons always help me out just enough to keep me on the pauper level. Never enough to allow me to get off the ground and have a life, even though they stole mine by splitting me from my family. Along comes this white van driving through the bank parking lot with a black man inside and he is staring at us. So I scream "get the fuck out of here nig- --" and he slams on the brakes. Well I had been down this road before and I realized that if I didn't do something quick we could all be dead soon. The black man got out of his van and began digging for something in the rear section of the van. I ran down to him as fast as I could to reach him before he got a hold of a weapon. I pulled out a tiny knife I had in my pocket and I put my fingers right up to the tip of the blade so that it could not cut but only poke and I poked him with it very gently and said "Get back in your car and get the fuck out of here" to which the black man said "OK" and he was gone. He didn't know me and he didn't know Roy Schallert or Angela and he drove away never having seen my own white Honda which was parked in a dark corner. I then went and got into my car and drove away leaving only Roy Schallert and Angel Vivier behind in the Bank of America parking lot. I'm not a racist anymore. I gave that BS up when I realized that it was just another rich man trick to destroy dissidents.

I headed directly north on Interstate 5 until I came to Seattle Washington. I never knew that Roy Schallert was about to set me up yet again for jail while I was gone. I went to Minnesota and then to Florida and South to Fort Lauderdale Florida. I went to a bar down there and soon met another drag queen named Michelle, she let me stay at the house on the idea that I would pay a certain amount of rent.

So I'm staying in Fort Lauderdale Florida in this tiny little quest room situation attached to the main house at 2884 S.W. 9th street Fort Lauderdale Florida. The drag queen that allowed me to stay here Michelle is living in the main house with her boy friend whose name is Bob, or something like that. I never spoke to the Bob guy except a few times in all those years so I don't know much about him except that he was the boy friend of Michelle and he worked at an insurance firm.

In the time that I was at the house in Fort Lauderdale I tried many ways to make money but kept on failing. I was noticing like many times before that this economy seemed to be functioning on it's last leg or at least as a closed system which didn't allow for free enterprise expansion at least not where I was involved. I think the masons and their affiliates decided it was better for them if I was just tucked away out of sight until I died of some natural causes. 

Also during this time I worked at some very low paying construction jobs and made some money to purchase my first copy of Microsoft's Visual Basic programming tools. I had my eyes on being a programmer and I spent not a moment without realizing that it was the only reason I was staying there. I had come to the conclusion that I would become a good windows programmer and then I would leave drag queens behind forever and find me a woman after I found a good paying job. I spent about three solid years in a tiny room down there in Fort Lauderdale studying, teaching myself something that I had no way of knowing would change my life or how, I just guessed it all and kept moving forward. Around about 1998 I started actually getting programming jobs and all my hard work was paying off. I had endured all the suffering that I could and it was boiling over into anger towards the rich man.

I had been silently trying to complete the puzzle of how the rich were operating this machine of society for many years but it wasn't until here that I had some really good clues. I found my clues on the internet. One day I was reading an article on some university's web site and it was about the knights templar in ancient times and some of the grotesque rituals that they engaged which caused the people of ancient times to reject them. It was about there that it dawned on me that these things called masons or the knight's templar could very well be a piece of the missing social control item here that I had been seeking for so many years.

In 1999 I finally concluded beyond a reasonable doubt that the entire system was being orchestrated by the freemasons and that everything that was once known as natural events was just another Masonic manipulation. From the credentials being given out to the scholars in the fields of education, the entire system was rigged and controlled by freemasons. I started proclaiming this reality as I saw it on a daily basis to every person I encountered. And it was here that my life took a drastic turn to the worst.

I was hired by a company called "Digital dynamic displays" with a side name of "Private cigars" in South Florida and this is what happened, I wrote this letter to various organizations shortly following the incident:

------------------ Old letter original ----------------- -----------------------------

Hello my name is James Allen Bressem, I'm writing this letter for the sole purpose of informing somebody of the events which have recently occurred in my life so should something unfortunate happen to me others will know. As I have no family or relations who I can contact. I was hired by a company (below) to do visual basic programming. The owner hired me on as a private contractor. Perhaps to limit his liability. I had worked there for 2 weeks. Then one day the owner William Van Hove didn't show up for work, and while I'm doing my programming alone, a woman shows up with a professional pesticide canister (about 10:00AM). She tells me that she is going to spray for insects. That didn't make any sense as the building is engaged in the manufacture of metallic parts and spraying for insects is obviously unnecessary. I asked her to write down the name of the pesticide, she wrote [cynoff], and I allowed her to spray the poison in the room in which I was working. About 4 hours later I began feeling heavy dizziness and confusion. This lasted from approximately 2:00PM when I began getting the feelings till about 12:00AM that night when finally the dizziness subsided. But I wrote it off as a bad accident and went back to work the following day (1/11/00). As the day proceeded I expected to receive an early morning call from the owner, as that is the normal routine, no call came. So I continued working on the computer till about 1:00PM when I began feeling tremendous dizziness and confusion, similar to the day before. So I decided to leave and go home. I called the owner and he claimed to be sick. I thought that was rather coincidental that he would "be sick" precisely at the time the poison would be sprayed. It is now 4:00AM and the dizziness still hasn't gone away. It was enough to prompt me to make some attempt at notifying an out side party in the event that this is some kind of attempt on my life. I have for some time now been divulging information about the freemasonry (who I claim control most of the political world, covertly) on the internet and many members of those cults have expressed severe disapproval. Here is the business where all of this has taken place: 

Digital Dynamic Displays Corp. William Van Hove 
1650 NW 66th Avenue
Plantation, Florida. 33313
Phone 954-792- 3700,
1-888-698-1611 
Fax 954-792-5293 

Here is my place of residence: 
James Allen Bressem 
2884 S.W. 9th street 
Fort Lauderdale, Fl 33302 
Phone: (954) 316-8612 
[email protected] 
http://www.angelfire.com/fl/truthis/ 
http://www.geocities.com/SouthBeach/Breakers/1912/ 
Please make a note of this in the event that ill should come to me. Thank you. I would do the same for you.

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My ears began ringing after that incident and till this day they are still ringing. It never went away because the masons at every step of the way between then and now have been continually harassing me. I quit that job and went back to the room I had been living in without incident at 2884 S.W. 9th street Fort Lauderdale, Fl 33302 for 3 years now and when I arrived there was a surprise. Somebody had planted the exact same chemical in the room where I had been existing. I immediately realized that they were all in this together as one big vine of accomplices through every step of my life from the time they split me up from my family at the job in Encino to now. About this same time the strangest thing happened. A girl I had gone out with many years earlier in South California contacted me out of the blue. Kelly Workman was her name and I immediately started telling her about all the things I had learned about the masons and she agreed with everything telling me that there was nothing that could be done. I told her my brothers were all being used by the masons and they were to naive to realize it and she admitted that it was true and tried to tell me that it was OK. Here is the exact text from one of the emails she sent me. Mine and my brothers entire lives had been orchestrated. This girl was one of their affiliates and she was from the distant past when I was 16 years old.

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From: To: <[email protected]> Subject: TRUTH ! Date: Wednesday, February 23, 2000 11:16 PM DO YOU WANT TO TALK OR ARE YOU JUST BUSY? LET ME KNOW IF I AM BUGGING YOU, OK ? HAVE BEEN TRYING TO IM YOU ALL NIGHT ! CALL ME AT 562-432-7721 REALLY QUICK IF THAT IS FASTER, IT WON'T COST MUCH FOR A MIN. LOVE, KELLIE

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It was about the end of February the year 2000 when I packed up my things into a Junker old Honda I had and headed for New Orleans to escape that situation. I have a CD back up of my work on that exact date and I always back up my work prior to leaving. I arrived in the French quarter on the last week end of mardi gras and I was telling everybody in the French Quarter the things I had found out about the masons. There was some type of Christian group touring through there at the time and I even walked straight up to them and told them that all the problems of the current day were being perpetrated by FREEMASONS. The French Quarter came alive in ways I had not thought possible. I mean regular people who you'd think were acting alone began acting like machines and moving around me in synchronized arrangements as I walked through the French Quarter trying to "set me up" for some accident. Nearly every business operator in the French Quarter came outside of their business and made a spectacular show of unity and power which was quite silent but all the same ominous and omnipresent. I knew it was them every last business person in the French Quarter was a mason or an affiliate. Either that or there is some kind of mind control happening in this society which is beyond the people's comprehension in complexity. It scared the shit out of me and I don't scare too easily. I slept in my car that night and woke the next morning to feeling not so good about the situation and very dizzy from the same chemical that they started giving me back in Fort Lauderdale and were still giving me here.

I drove out to an isolated area by the bayou to swim and change my clothing. Soon a county vehicle, parks recreation,  not to far off from where I was swimming arrived and a man got out of the truck. He took out some kind of box and sat it on the ground. In the distance two men were watching from way off with binoculars. And about 30 minutes later the parks recreation person got back into his truck and drove off. About 10 minutes after that these small black flying insects began biting me all over my body. I was wearing shorts because I was swimming. I realized that the parks and recreation person had released those biting insects from that box he had and now they were attacking me. I got into my car and the masons had a series of private planes fly very low over head several times as if to show me their great power. I wasn't impressed but I was beginning to get scared. So soon after I got back into my car and drove out of New Orleans towards Dallas Texas. The French Quarter would never be the same for me now that I realized it was crawling with masons and they were wicked murderous bastards. But I hadn't seen anything yet.

I though it would be over if not in South Florida, or New Orleans then certainly Texas didn't tolerate subverting people simply for what they believed and the words they spoke. I was to learn different. When I arrived in Dallas Texas the first thing I noticed was that certain cars were following me every place I drove through the city. I realized it was the masons and they had called ahead, or however they communicate and Dallas was not going to be any different from Fort Lauderdale and New Orleans. For a while I drove around the freeways of Dallas trying to lose them and actually did a few times, but it was a vain effort because they are literally every where or their cyborg robots are, I don't know which till this day. I eventually took a motel room at The Deluxe INN 3111 Stemmons Fwy #220 Dallas, TX 75247. And started sending out my resume to every job advertised in the news paper and on the internet. I was antagonized by the realization that the masons where going to bother me here also. They did keep following me every place I went making sure I didn't say too much to the wrong people. I eventually found a job for a company called Reliant Financial Services, Dallas, TX. 03/01/2000 - 05/30/2000.

Well as funny as it may seem everything started falling into place as if the entire world all of a sudden knew James Allen Bressem, but I knew they did not. I mean when I arrived at the job I could tell that the other people were masons immediately, and that the entire place was bugged. The other employees seemed as if hand picked just to suit my personality and it wasn't long before they started spraying me with that same chemical which causes the ear ringing again. I walked out of that job disgusted with masons and I quit. I came back a week or so later to get my pay check and just as I walked out the door another planted employee, some Harvard kid looking guy exited exactly before me. I thought nothing of it and simply walked out behind him. As I walked I smelled that same peculiar odor that gave me the head ringing in Fort Lauderdale, the smell was coming out of the guys shirt. They had actually set things up to the extent that he would leave exactly before me and spray the chemical out of his shirt at my face as I walked out behind him. I felt like grabbing his shirt and ripping it off to see what kind of device they had under it, but I did nothing. Here is the exact text I wrote pertinent to those events:

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05/30/00, 10:49AM
James Allen Bressem 
3111 Stemmons Fwy, Rm 220 
Dallas, Tx 75247 
Phone: 214-631-5244 Ext. 220 

This is an update to the attached message which was sent out 4 or more months ago. Eventually they went so far as to poison me with that same chemical which caused dizziness, etc. in the house where I was living in Fort Lauderdale (2884 S.W. 9th street), FL. Consequently, I packed my things and left Florida. A word or two about the events that have transpired since then:

I landed in New Orleans for the last few days of Mardi Gras. While I was there I decided to verbalize some of the things I have been learning about Masonic control of the mass media, government, drug importation, child kidnapping, organ harvesting, etc. to the public on the streets of New Orleans. Needless to say things took a quick change to the worse. The whole French Quarter is crawling with Masons and they spared no holds in "coming out of hiding" to give me a "Grand Show" of force. They began attempting to "Set me up" with a variety of different social situations which might have lead to me being harmed but I'm observant and avoided them all. From that day (last day of Mardi Gras) till the present (May 30th-2000) I have not had a single day in which I was free from their harassment. They have tried many things and even resorted to controlling various radio station broadcasting, as I listen to the radio frequently, (in both New Orleans and Dallas) to send me messages which attempted to scare me into silence. They achieved their goal, I was walking in silent fear. I could tell a tale of "Many" strange events which have transpired since then, none of which can be proven, but I have always been a very solitary man and I know how it is to be alone, but it hasn't been like that since Mardi Gras. Every bar I go to, every store I visit, every public function I attend, they are there "Watching Me" and they make no real effort to conceal themselves, in fact I even confronted two or three of them with statements such as "How is the masonry?" receiving responses like "oh it's fine". But I'm writing this letter to inform you of a far more heinous event which has transpired. And this is it: I took another job with one of their firms, as I now believe most of my past work experience in computer programming is with their firms as they hire me quick to prevent others from doing so. But I need a job and "must" take the offers that come.

I took a job with a company named: 

RFS (Reliant Financial Services) 
17250 Dallas Parkway 
Dallas, TX 75248 
PH: 972- 407-2947 

About 1 month ago. Initially it was a contract to hire position through another company named: Advanced Computer team, Inc. 
3401 Custer Rd Suite 117 
Plano, TX 75023 
PH: 972-612-3331

But I was hired full time. It was even two days after I started working there that they "all of a sudden" started doing a lot of renovation work on the premises. They started having walls painted in the offices, ceiling tile replaced, light fixtures installed. And it meant nothing to me until Friday the 26th of May when all of a sudden I began feeling this "drugged feeling" and my head became light and thinking unclear, similar to what I reported in the previous episode (message included below [January 12, 2000], in Fort Lauderdale). It is now 11:00Am Tuesday, May 30th and I did not go to work today (would you?) because there is a very load ringing in my ears that doesn't seem to be going away. I don't doubt even for a second that this was done to me intentionally. Something to cause me to act erratically so that they have something to frame me with, or bad press to tell about me upon my demise which may or may not come sooner than would be natural. I can not begin to tell you how annoying it is to be chiefly a thinker, such as I, and have this perennial "LOAD RINGING" in my head. It makes me very angry that they have done this to me, but it seems to be the same chemical they attempted to give me back in Florida. So I'm writing this letter to inform someone of these events. I'm not going to just sit there and wait for them to destroy my life not doing anything about it, which seems to be what they want me to do.

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I simply waited till later that evening or the next day and went out to the bars telling every body about freemasonry and how they are farming the public. I went out one of those nights in Dallas and was raising all sort of hell about freemasons. I was drinking in a little Mexican bar in a Mexican neighborhood. Nobody in there could speak English but I didn't care I just wanted to get away from the main stream. Little did I know that the masons are in every club, every bar. It wasn't long after arriving that some girl came into the bar and asked me "Was that you car parked ...(at such and such a place)?" I said yes, and she said "It has just been towed" and I thought ok here we go again. She offered to lead me down some back roads to the place where they had towed the car. I wasn't that stupid so I said no thanks I'll find it myself later. I ended sitting in that bar longer than I should have and when I left I was intoxicated, but not beyond functionalism just to the point where I was screaming about Freemasons pretty freely on the open streets. I tried to use the pay phone just outside the bar as it was beginning to close and the bar security came out and I asked him if he had the number for a taxi but he just said "No, Use the phone across the street". I was dumb founded. I told him "Why should I use that phone across the street when I was drinking in this bar?" He responded by saying "Not in this bar you weren't" and I had just walked out of that bar and had been there all night and he knew it. It was then that I realized something wasn't right, but I was too drunk to care so I started walking down a dark Dallas street at about 2:30AM of that night and this is some text that I wrote pertaining to the events that took place:

------------Attacked with clubs, and left for dead------ -----------------------------------------------

On the 10th of June 2000 I was attacked. There was no motive for the attack, and I was rendered unconscious and hospitalized. I was given facial surgery at the Parkland medical facility here in Dallas, but the surgery at best was wholly inadequate. Now 3 weeks later I have massive facial damage which has effectively transformed my life into a ghastly nightmare. I would like to know if there is anything you can do? 

James Allen Bressem 
[email protected] 
3111 Stemmons Fwy #220 
Dallas, Tx, 75247 
214-631-5244 ext. 220 
http://www.angelfire.com/fl/truthis/ 
http://home.sprintmail.com/~1854316/

Attacked and left for dead. For the past 5 weeks I've had no income or opportunity, due to the deformations of my face which are the results of this attack. Dr. Cunningham at Parkland Medical Center did surgery on my face to correct the bone damage, but the results are a dreadful facial deformity! I'm now faced with unemployment and a huge cosmetic surgery bill to have my face put back to normal. I want JUSTICE! And I need your help!

(Insert - I now know that AIDS itself is not strong enough  to over come the immune system of a healthy Human which is why the freemasons had me attacked here, to give AIDS the advantage that it needed to over come my immune system. Funny that they should do things that imply a knowledge of my having HIV without my having been tested. I wasn't tested until 2004)

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Another thing that the masons working at parkland did when they did the face surgery was they separated the gums from my teeth in the very front of my lower mouth. I didn't know it at the time but over the years it has resulted in the teeth getting corroded below the gum line and now one of my teeth has fallen out. It makes me wonder how many other people have they done these insidious deeds to in the past. After that I was home bound in the motel for weeks recovering from the incident. I did not find another job in Dallas and eventually had to leave because I lost my car. I ended up going back to Fort Lauderdale Florida and Michelle helped me get a cheap room for rent situation at 1100 NE 17 CT Fort Lauderdale, FL 33302. In a room being rented by some gay person who I never talked to except to pay the rent. Michelle had another person (a single male) living at the address where I had previously lived at 2884 S.W. 9th street Fort Lauderdale, Fl 33302 and I wondered if he was being set up for elimination just like me. They have completely isolated me from my family and everybody else. So I spent about a half year in this place on 1100 NE 17 CT and the masons were pulling there little tricks there also. The gay guy who owned the property would sometimes smoke so damn much cocaine that it would reek through the ventilation system of the house and cause me all kinds of trouble trying to think working on my computer. That's all I did was send out resumes and work on my computer hoping to get another job. It is all my life has consisted of for the past 4 years.

Eventually I got another job for a company in South Florida called .SPI Inc. System Products Intnl, , Miami, Fl. 04/1/2001 - 05/10/2001. Nothing significant happened on that job but I could tell that even they were masons or mason affiliates. One strange thing that began to happen about this time was all the masons around me started acting real nice like as if I had won some kind of contest, but I could tell it was all lies and trusted nothing. One of the other employees was constantly playing Led Zeppelin songs on the radio and I kind of had the feeling that the masons were trying to send me some kind of message. Especially with that one song "We are the elders of a gentle race", "Travelers of both time and space" etc. etc. I don't believe any such thing not even now after seeing these masons act synchronously in many different occasions without even communicating with each other which would be impossible for normal people. I believe it all has something to do with television and mind control, because even after five or ten seemingly innocent people undergo a matrix like organized movement without communicating which results in them actually gathering information pertinent to my moods and reactivity's it is hard for me to conceptualize anything more than scientific reality. It may be that a large segment of the population have implanted chips and are functioning as partial robots under remote control without even knowing it. But then I have seen things that make me think that maybe they are aware of these synchronized group movements that I have seem them undergo. Who knows.

Eventually SPI laid me off and I wasn't finding any more work in South Florida so I packed up my bags and took a Grey hound back to Dallas, TX seeking work. I was there off the bus for 1 night and I realized that this wasn't going to last long without a car. So I hitch hiked out of Dallas towards Oklahoma City every step of the way being aware of this new animated population stuff I was seeing. I mean groups of people moving in strangely synchronous patterns which resulted in putting them precisely at a place in relation to me which would cause some strange interaction from which they would acquire information pertinent to my attitude and mood. I never said a word about any of this to any one because I was familiar with this strange behavior from earlier years in my life when I would actually confront the people or person with what they had just said or done asking them why and the response was always the same, "I didn't do that". Funniest thing that I had always just seen them do the thing, but they always claim it didn't happen. They engender a sort of dual personality where on the one hand they are doing strange things and on the other they completely deny having done them as if they were unaware of having done them. 

I hitch hiked through Oklahoma city and into Detroit Michigan where I took a motel room. I sent out resumes trying futilely to get a job and got no response. While in Detroit masons immediately took up the business  of following me and tried hard to set me up with a young drag queen in Detroit. I almost fell for the bait and she was leading me into the basement of one of those safe houses in Detroit and I had come to the conclusion that she wasn't a she at all but a man in drag, a drag queen. So I grabbed my bag and turned around quickly headed for the door. I had given up all that drag queen relations stuff back in Florida and wasn't going back to it any more. As I tried to leave the drag queen actually grabbed my bag and tried to steal it from me. I was surprised as hell some little drag queen looking just like a girl fighting me in the streets of Detroit for my own belongings. I got my bag and headed straight for the Grey hound bus depo and was out of that town headed for New York city. Another thing I have noticed about masons is that they seem to act almost primitively towards the prospect of gaining things such as belongings or money. They greedily try to steal, cheat, beg or borrow without remorse or pride to get more of anything. 

You have to understanding that I wasn't a criminal and I didn't take drugs or do anything harmful to others. I was just a programmer trying to find a job and searching the entire country to do it with no luck. I arrived in New York about 2 months prior to that September 11th episode. I would be gone back to Florida before it happened, but I was there just before then seeking work passing out flyers on the street for computer help and so forth with no luck. My money was running out and I wasn't having any luck. I was still drinking. And so it was that one night I walked out into the streets of New Jersey, where I was staying in a cheap motel, to get a bite to eat. I arrived at this chicken place and was waiting to make an order when in comes these two people and one of them walks straight up to me and hits me in the face for no reason. I was star struck but I didn't do anything because there was more than one of them and I didn't want to die in the streets in the night so I walked away. Strange as it may be it seemed almost like a mind control situation. The guy didn't even know me yet he attacked me. Another thing I noticed: I was given a large silver necklace by a man on house arrest in Dallas Texas a little later on in this story. I wore that necklace for about a year always feeling a bit dizzy and then one day just recently I removed the necklace and the dizziness completely went away. I then thought, they must be using that heavy metal noose around my neck to locate my head with some type satellite device.

Another thing that happened while I was in New York was some girl came up and started being all friendly with me, not sexually but friendly just the same. I was nice to her and accompanied her on several journeys in her car to help her move from one house into the motel with all of her belongings. On one such occasion I had bought a pint of Bacardi and was going to drink it later. She came in my room and saw the booze, then she asked me if I wanted to go some place with her. I said ok not having anything else to do. This was about July of 2001 and I had been noticing previously that every time I went to a bar and bought a beer the beer would taste somewhat acidic and then I would get these bad side pains later. I was noticing this even a year earlier in the house at Fort Lauderdale. I had my suspicions about the masons putting something in my beer to cause me liver damage but I was not certain until this night. I went with the lady to where ever she went and sat in her car while she did what ever she had to do. She then brought us back to the hotel and I went to my room to drink my bottle of Bacardi because I was bored and so forth. I drank that entire bottle, enough to make a beer drinker like me drunk, and it didn't even give me a buzz. I became hot and sweaty all over my body and the side pains started real bad. I never was a heavy drinker. I would drink a few beers two or three times a week and that was it, so liver damage wasn't even a possibility, besides I'm a chemist and I'm fully aware of the need to take vitamins and so forth before and after drinking and I always did. But this was painful and my face even got those tiny white pimples that people with liver damage get. I realized that the masons were trying to KILL ME WITH LIVER DAMAGE. So I completely quit drinking. That was July of 2001 and I haven't touched a drop of alcohol since that night. Some rich mason probably has a price on my head and the lady was trying to make money the easy way. Well nothing is that easy she cut the masons out of there best avenue of attack against me which was my drinking. Now they have to attack a completely innocent and sober man, but believe me they still do just in very sneaky ways all the while pretending like I'm "the Man", which is the basis of their wicked game of murder. They send masons around you trying to boost your ego making you feel like some kind of winner while all the while they are setting up your next fall. I never fell for their lies. And still don't today. They can smile till their rotten little lying faces gleam with heinous deceit but I'll see straight through it to the ugly little creature which lies within filled with hatred and jealousy for anything more qualified than themselves which is just about everything.

Well I left New York shortly after this episode. there was one other episode where I tried to take a different cheap motel and the guy rented me a room with bugs in the bed and I didn't sleep all night to wait till the morning to get my money back. I wrote it off because I was tired and he gave me my money back. I caught a Grey hound bus to Boston first and walked around all day and took a motel for one night, but it cost about 70 dollars and it wasn't going to last long so I left the next day back to Fort Lauderdale. Once I arrived I went to some cheap weekly rental. I stayed there for about a month trying to get a job, but there was nothing answering my resumes. I had a room mate in the motel, well it wasn't really a motel but apartments which the manager was renting out weekly: American Properties, Fort Lauderdale, FL. Each room in an apartment was rented out individually and I was in one room and another guy in the next room. He was a drunkard and never did I realize how bad it was being a drinker as when I watched this guy slobber around the apartment drunk constantly. Leaving food in the kitchen to rot and just being a nasty person completely. One night he came back to the apartment and shit all over the bathroom floor then he tried to clean it up and was so drunk he smeared shit every where. I watched this happen and surprisingly it corresponded to the exact moment of me publishing anti Masonic literature on the internet. I was amazed and thought they must have some kind of control over this weak man's mind and they caused him to shit all over in response to the literature I was giving out. Strange, but it was only hypothesis. I have no absolute proof of nothing except the broken bones and ringing in my ears and the synchronous behavior of groups that I see frequently. Another strange thing that happened here was one day some strange guy came to the apartment asking for the drunkard but he wasn't there I told him and then he ask me if he could leave some money for the guy and I said I didn't care, so he left 10 one hundred dollar bills on the kitchen table. $1000 dollars, now that was extremely strange being as he didn't know me from Charles dickens and it was a weekly rental situation with multiple residents. I left the money sitting just as he had put it until the drunkard came back and then I told him about it. Nothing happened, but looking back it was probably a mason tick to get me to steal from some drug lord or something so that he would kill me. It failed like all their other tricks.

Another night came and this drunk was sitting out on the front porch of the apartment making noise late at night and the cops started coming around so I woke up the next day and packed my bags. Michelle helped me and I moved into another weekly rental place in Hollywood, Florida. I stayed there for a few months, no work, no money just survival. And a lot of mason tricks. They realized along the way that I like black haired girls and they started putting them everywhere around me. Why I don't know because none of them ever talk and I never talk to them because primarily I have no money and no life. Eventually I was finished with Hollywood Florida and I needed out. I had been trying to contact my brothers Gary, Rick and Or Marty for many years now and finally I was able to get through to Gary. I told him nothing about the events that were taking place because I thought they might be in control of him also and he might not help me. So I asked to borrow some money and he loaned me 1000 dollars. It wasn't much considering that many years ago he had asked me to loan him 7000 so he could buy a new motor cycle by putting a lean on a new car I had that was completely paid for and I didn't even question it, I just said yes. But it was all the money I had so I bought a used car which was conveniently located on the same block as I lived. I know the masons put that car there, but what could I do. I needed a car to find a job. I bought the car using all the money and soon was on the road out of Florida.

I wasn't having any health problems at all and I didn't drink anymore nor did I use drugs or anything else. I just chewed tobacco. I headed back toward Dallas, Texas because that is where all the computer programming jobs usually are. After a non eventful trip through New Orleans and Houston. I landed in Dallas Texas and slept in my car in the parking lot of a city park the first night I arrived. In the morning when I woke up the masons had put a tennis shoe straight in the middle of my windshield. What that was supposed to mean I still don't know. I got up the next day and proceeded to look for jobs. I ended up standing on the street corner with the local Mexicans trying to get temporary work by the day. I got some work, but it wasn't enough to even get a motel and I was sleeping in my car in very cold weather. It was January or February of 2002. The masons tried to set me up here also. Some fat woman came along offering work on her house for six dollars an hour building the foundation. I thought nothing of it and went to do the job. When I arrived I noticed that she was a very dirty lady with dogs and stink every where. Well I worked hard and was full of sweat when the old woman came and asked me specifically, not any of the other 3 guys who were there working to help her in her shed, out in the back. I went to the shed with her and walked through all this dirt to get to it. I then opened the door of the shed and was blasted by the smell of rotten dead animals. She didn't go into the shed with me, but she stood out side and ordered me around in there doing miscellaneous tasks. I was feeling sick already just from the time I was in there. I went home to my motel that night which I had bought by working day labor and was feeling very sick. This correlates with my thoughts about having the AIDS virus (I wasn't yet tested yet the masons knew I had it) because the masons keep subjecting me to extremely dirty bacterial environments trying to get me sick. I have noticed this many times since the masons first started smiling at me and acting like I was a winner and their friend. I took excessive doses of my tobacco and woke up in the morning without a trace of sickness.

Eventually I was fed up with Dallas, it isn't hard to get to that point when nearly 1/2 of the population are masons and the other half are under their spell of television brain wash and whatever else. I packed up my things and drove out of Dallas heading for Chicago. I arrived in Chicago flat broke and starving, literally. I hadn't eaten in a week or more and I was getting real skinny. I drove around Chicago trying to send out resumes and get any other kind of work but nothing came. Days were passing and I was starving to death, losing a lot of muscle tissue. I could see that masons were crawling all over Chicago also. And I don't know it for certain but it may have been masons who stole my cell phone, because it came up missing and I was without any means of calling for help. And I was extremely hungry.

Chicago was cold, in fact it was freezing and I got frost bite on my toes from sleeping in the car. The masons knew exactly where I was and what I was doing the whole time. They are heinous bastards I will tell you for certain because they watched me starving there for weeks but would give me no work, not even to eat. I eventually started digging out pennies I had from the past and intended to get enough of them to make a call back to Florida asking for a little money to eat. it was a cold rainy freezing morning and nobody would give me quarters for my pennies so I went seeking penny rolls to roll them and nobody would give me the paper rolls to put pennies in. I was getting very frustrated. I was freezing, I was starving and nobody would help. So I started driving a little fast and the next thing I knew I hit this van in the rear at low speed. Nothing happened to the van but my car was totaled. I was taken to jail, booked and released to the streets of Chicago. I had nothing left all my belonging except a small bag were in that car and it was impounded. I walked down the street starving and saw a mission kind of place so I walked in and asked if I could have some food. They started screaming at me about being someplace I wasn't supposed to be and I walked out.

Well I had no options. I was soaking wet, freezing cold and starving to death and didn't know how to contact anybody because my brother's telephone number was on my cell phone and it was lost and the car was lost also. So I walked to the interstate highway and began hitch hiking. I would head back down south to where it was warm and then go back up north as the winter ended. I was hitch hiking towards St Louis, walking on the interstate highway. I eventually got a ride with some guy who dropped me off at some truck stop where I spent the evening watching television. In the morning I resumed my journey. Eventually I was back down in Texas and then in San Antonio. Rides were few and far apart. I walked straight through many cities without a ride. It was bad, but I finally got a call through and had a little money to eat but not enough for the luxury of a motel or anything. I arrived in San Antonio just in time for the Cinco De Mayo 05/05/2002 celebration. I was in no position to celebrate being a hitch hiker, but watching the celebration I noticed strange things. Like masons in San Antonio new things about me that had only just recently been learned by the Chicago masons. I wondered how can they communicate that fast. It makes me wonder, but I brushed it all off. After all I was to tired and miserable to care.

Soon I was back on the interstate highway I10 headed west towards California. It had been seven years since the last time I was in California. and I didn't know what to expect. The masons were waiting for me with plans I was yet to learn. I took a few rides between San Antonio Texas and California, but the last one was the interesting one. It was a man and some dragged out woman who he claimed to have picked up on the way. I thought nothing of it and he said he was going all the way to San Francisco. I said I'd go with until Los Angeles and I did just that. I got out in Los Angeles and he continued on his way.

For two days I wondered around Los Angeles with no place to sleep but I did have enough money to buy a bus pass and I did, so I was traveling the buses all night. On the third night or so I went down in the Redondo Beach area and was walking for miles. I figured I would just walk until the sun came up. But then I saw a police car up ahead and I remembered that incident just before I left California last time. I had found out by getting fired from a job (General Employment of Dallas) that they had issued a felony warrant for my arrest in Los Angeles for some kind of assault. That was real strange knowing that the guy didn't know me or Roy Schallert so how could he have reported the incident to the police? But then Roy Schallert was always double talking and he was a mason safe house keeper so I knew he snitched on purpose to set me up. In fact the guy driving through the parking lot was probably a set up itself. I had no choice except to deal with the situation because I was homeless and had no idea where my brothers where. So I came back to California and now I was being taken to jail by this cop for a felony which was really just self defense under Masonic set up conditions.

I didn't think anything of it. I thought it was a no big deal kind of incident so I would just explain it to the judge. Explaining anything to a Masonic judge in a Beverly hills court is a little out of order. The judge wanted to bring the previous burglary case that the masons had set me up for when I was 18 years old 22 years earlier into the picture. He said he wanted to give me life in prison. I didn't believe a word of it, but I realized it would be a little more time in jail than I had anticipated. I ended up staying in that jail for 7 months. And the place was crawling with masons. I frequently know masons are all around me simply by asking them "are you a mason?" and they just say "yes", no big deal they are masons and masons are every where. I don't get alarmed by it. It only bothers me when they do evil little things to me that add up to me getting worse off than I already am and I can never get ahead. So after hell dealing with mason prisoners in the cells at Los Angeles county jail for seven months, I don't think they put people like me with the other criminals because I might talk about masons. I finally was released. And I went straight for Roy Schallert's house because I had no alternatives. He said I could stay there and I had a comfortable half length couch to sleep on. But at least I could work on my programming with one of his computers and so I did. I sat there in the little room like I had been doing for so many years already and I was sending out resumes by the truck loads, but not receiving any response. I'm a very good programmer and I spent years learning the skill but these masons simply will not hire me. So eventually I got tired and wanted out to get a job.

So I leave for a couple of weeks trying to find a job elsewhere and nothing happens. I find no jobs and run out of money. I mean even the temporary place like labor ready won't give me daily work. I filled out many applications, but no work. I was there for three months and could not find a job anywhere. I even registered with the local labor ready place and they never call. In the meantime my probation officer Estella Jones of Santa Monica probation has informed me that I have to do an alcohol program which costs 300 dollars, even though I quit drinking 2 years ago and the actual crime took place 7 years ago, and pay a probation fee of 2000 dollars and I haven't paid anything because I have no job and I have no money. I'm wondering just what they intend to do when I go for my probation meeting on the 3rd of February. The meeting was on the 12th of February one day before I'm supposed to go back to court for a check up on progress, but she made it earlier on the 3rd.

Every since I came back to Roy Schallert's house Roy Schallert, and Angela Vivier have been acting very weird. the neighbors dog is always out back when I come and go and it bothers nobody except me. Every time I walk out that door it runs up and bites my leg. Roy Schallert has placed several bottles of alcohol in the tiny room where I'm now staying and Angela comes down here every once in a while and grabs a bottle and takes a big drink to make sure I know the alcohol is there. They are hoping I will drink some and violate my probation conditions but I have no need or desire to drink ever again. The stuff repudiates me now that I see how the rich man is using it as everything else to control the minds and lives of the poor people of this society. Roy Schallert comes around my computer regularly and every time he does I smell that same odor which causes the ear ringing that they have been giving me for years now. 

One time I was toasting some bread and I walked into the room where I live and sleep for a moment to do something Roy Schallert walked into the kitchen and then left. When I went into the kitchen a moment later the toast was pushed off the toasted, a round flat circular horizontal toaster, and onto the counter. He does sneaky little woman like things to show contempt behind my back but to my face they are acting like angels. I wonder are they robots or is this some kind of Masonic mind control. Once in a while I come straight out with anti mason words and Roy Schallert immediately takes on this ogre type personality like some kind of grotesque beast filled with lies screaming that the masons are innocent. Why does he do this when he claims not to be a mason. Of course he says that his brother William Schallert is a mason and he has come to visit Roy Schallert one time since I have been here, never has he done that in all the time that I have been here in the past. Real strange. Another thing that has been rather consistent since I came here is some strange type of skin lesion has been appearing on my face. I never had anything like it before and I never had anything like it around this house before. Like pimples but they don't heal at all, or extremely slowly. Seems like some type of genetically altered strain of bacteria which the masons are now dosing me with right from this house.

A few days ago I took a bus all the way to Chino hills trying to locate my brother Marty who I haven't seen in ten years. When I arrived I went to a local library in Chino and looked under Butterfield Realty which is the name of the business that he owns. I have found this out by years and years of searching. I went to the address which was listed in a January 2003 phone book for a large display add of Butterfield realty and there was no Butterfield realty. But a couple of the offices had no door signs. The masons working there seemed to have been expecting me long before I arrived. Is it possible that they moved his entire office out just so I wouldn't find it? I don't know, all I know is that I have three brothers in this city and in three months of being here and riding buses and calling people nobody will tell me where my brothers are located or how to contact them. My brother Rick is a contractor and I know he would give me work if I could find him but the masons have completely blocked me off from my family. What are they planning on doing, killing me by refusing to give me work and a place to live and denying me contact with my own family which I haven't seen in ten years while they slowly antagonize me to death? Every time I get into a situation where I can live they start treating me with weird stuff that causes me to leave. Is their game to keep me moving and moving until they can set me up someplace where nobody will know what happened. It will all look as if I was a shaky character for moving so much when in reality it was them causing me to move?

Well the answer to that one I don't now but I do know that the masons have killed many before me and would not hesitate to kill me also. I think they are just taking the long route in my case because after all I'm a completely innocent man who does not even drink alcohol and I have done nothing all my life except try to learn a decent trade so I could get a decent job and find a woman. It just startles me how cruel and heinously cold blooded masons are to destroy my entire life with their manipulations and then because I had no options destroy me. They set me up and took my drivers license many years ago when I first was released from the youth authority. I was driving and a young girl made a left turn in front of me just as I started off a red light which had turned green for me. She waited until the light turned green for me and I started going then she turned left in front of me. I lost my license for it and have never had one since that day. Did they have some kind of mind control working on that girl? Who knows, but why would she make that turn? I may never know but it destroyed most of my life. Now the masons are destroying the rest of it. I have started a web site trying to tell the world some of the things I learned about human nature and hopefully I can survive this shit long enough to make a difference for others. But more and more I'm realizing that the masons don't want the people to know about themselves. Not only that but they design inefficient products purposely to misguide and cripple the people. I'm without words on the issue.

02/11/03 I have finally found an alcohol program to join because I borrowed some money from Roy Schallert. I told him I was going to use the money to get a credit card. Later I called the probation department and my probation officer was screaming so I decided to pay $100 of the money on my fine. I told Roy I was going to pay $100 of the money towards the fine. He literally went crazy, screaming "What if I don't want you to pay the probation department with the money I gave you?".

What does that tell you? Well, I paid it anyway. Now I have been sleeping here on this tiny coach day after day and not a single day goes by where Roy Schallert doesn't come down stairs at 6:30AM and start banging things around trying to wake me up. But today I have an appointment to join the alcohol program, even though I quit drinking two years ago, and funny thing it's 7:30AM now and not a sound from Roy Schallert. He didn't even come down stairs this morning. Obviously he "didn't want to wake me up today" I might make my appointment to join the program and succeed at my probation. They are still giving me the pimple like things, but I found that they are not infections at all but are more likely the result of some caustic chemical like formic acid because If I treat them with sodium hypochlorite they vanish immediately so I found the cure to yet another mason poison.

02/16/03 Today the masons and their collaborators tried a new trick. Buying my food as they do because I have no family as a result of their manipulations. They have been buying me food that they know I don't like. Today I was getting pissed off about it so I was talking shit about masons and so on. Roy comes in the room with his usual "I want you out of here speech", so I say ok, and he immediately takes back the proposal. Then Angela comes into the room and starts screaming like crazy and throwing my things around the room. I just sat down and waited for it to end. Roy said they called the cops, but then Angela later said they didn't, but the neighbor lady did. So a call comes on the phone supposedly the police, but I don't think it was. Roy tells them that I was making accusations about him and Angela, what a joke, I didn't say anything. So we talk and he says you'll have to go to the store and get what you need yourself. So I left to the store, when I return they are gone. I look at the door and there is a note. The note says "We went to the store, sit in the Cadillac (brown car in Roy's driveway) if you want". Now this is something they have been trying to get me to do for a couple weeks now, sit in that car. In fact Roy said that the neighbor lady just sold it to him for $200. How convenient. So I'm like real curious about this car every since, and finally it came to me, the reason they want me to sit in that car. The car is infested with some type of red mites that apparently suck blood. They had left me standing out there many times waiting for them to return before I could get into the house hoping I would go into that car, but I wasn't that stupid. Tonight was their "Big" attempt they even "Suggested it", but I had already read that scene. Just another day in the mason holding cell. Another thing I distinctly noticed from many previous episodes in my life was the hysterics that Angela showed, and Roy frequently shows. It seems these exact hysterics are very typical of television watchers, people who watch a lot of television. I can't be sure but somehow those televisions are planting that hysterical personality type into people. It is an irrational, thoughtless screaming and carrying on which does nothing really except bring police and alarm neighbors, and I think that is the goal of it. Perhaps they are trying to make it look like I'm crazy or something, but they are making themselves look a lot more crazy than me.

02/17/03:4:51PM I arrive to where I'm staying after a day of mason protesting on Hollywood Blvd. I decide to make myself a sandwich and while I'm waiting for toast to pop up I walk towards the other room for a second while Angela (Frank Vivier) is in the kitchen. I turn to look back and Frank is putting his hand over my sandwich pretending to put something on it and wanting me to see. This makes their goal obvious to cause me to look crazy by manipulating petty nuances in daily life. This is a very important part of the freemasons bag of tricks. And of course those who are controlled by freemasons one way or another. They are the biggest liars and tricksters in existence. They do very little in reality except play games on people's minds trying to prove them insane, or drive them to insanity. I only wonder how many of the people in institutions today are not actually wiser than the public. We need to check the jails and the insane asylums to find the leaders of our society who the masons destroyed. It seems they are particularly against those with strong minds because they can not control them with television and the other means they use to control people.

02/28/03 An interesting thing took place tonight that I thought I'd go ahead and document. First note that they are still putting some type of chemical on me which causes little sores of some kind. I get them no place on my body except on the back of my neck which means they must be spraying something at me from the rear. I use bleach on them and they go away sooner. Without the bleach they last weeks. One might say they look like AIDS sores, but I've never had them in my life. And I've never had these until I came here to Los Angeles this time. It is obvious from several factors that they (Roy Schallert and Frank Vivier, the two I'm staying with) would like me to have AIDS because once I was mentioning that I was going to get tested and Roy immediately said "why? You don't have any of the symptoms." and Frank Vivier has said similar things.

Tonight at about 10:PM I took two frozen hamburgers out of the freezer and put them in a frying pan along with about a cup of water. I turned the heat on extremely low and went back in the room I'm staying in to work on my computer like I always do. I have been cooking hamburgers like this for about 20 years and it always works just fine. But tonight something very strange happens. After only a few minutes of my burgers being on the fire, at extremely low heat, with a cup of water in the pan with the meat, first Roy Schallert comes in my room area and starts some stupid conversation about something. He frequently does this precisely when they are trying to pull some scam, as a diversion. I have caught the act a couple times already. But tonight I wasn't paying attention so I just tried to make him go away by telling him whatever was necessary. But just before he finished his little diversionary discourse Frank Vivier comes into the room in a hurry saying "James, your burgers are burning!". I immediately think "how can they be burning I just put them on the fire and they were in water and frozen on low heat?" So I go to check the burgers and sure enough they are smoking and burned reddish brown on one side. I knew something was wrong with the situation. The burgers looked very tiny also. I had put two Very large burgers into that pan, but what was in there now were two very tiny very well done, on one side, burgers. I thought nothing of it. Both Roy Schallert and Frank Vivier know I eat my burgers almost burnt. So I take them out and go back to the room to eat them. I bite into one of them and notice immediately that it is RED inside. I mean the meat isn't cooked, but the outside is burned. Something that only happens at high heat so I knew they had tampered with them. I threw the second one into the trash after eating the first. So the night is passing and soon I start getting stomach aches. Now it is 7:00AM 03/01/03 and the stomach aches still haven't gone away. You should remember I'm 41 years old and have had only one or two medical problems in my entire life. I mean I haven't even been sick in twenty years, but since I came here I'm having all sorts of new illnesses. Very strange don't you think?

I know the masons are controlling small animals with some type of electrical device because in the past two months I have been bitten by 3 dogs while just walking down the street. In the prior 41 years I had never been bitten. I have seen them causing birds to shit on command also at other times and in other places.

03/12/03 I'm still here at 1826 laurel canyon without money eating cans of tuna fish every day like some kind of pet. So I'm laying on my 3/4 body sized coach and falling to sleep. I feel this jiggle on the coach and in my half sleeping mind I hear Roy walking around in my would be closet of a room. He just jiggled the coach to see if I was asleep yet. I was going to say something, but I thought why bother. He is sneaking around, but I just said who cares and went back to sleep. So I wake up about 8 hours later I wake up and my head hurts bad? Well it is obvious that they drugged me while I was asleep. They sneak around doing dirty little deeds to innocent people in their sleep. Nothing can surprise me anymore. I've seen it all. Feeding off the use and abuse of innocents and it's a normal thing to them. 

03/23/03 I wake up with a severe headache. I don't know what from, but I assume now that I have to completely cover my head and body with blanket when I sleep because Roy Schallert is giving me some kind of drug in my sleep. But I think nothing of the headache and I carry on with the day which doesn't include much being as I have no money because the masons are keeping me here broke until they can find a way to kill me. Today they tried some more shit. I didn't want to go to the store to buy my tobacco so I asked Roy if he would buy it for me while he was out. He agreed. Two hours later when he returns he lies and says the gas station at the corner doesn't have the product "Skoal fine cut chewing tobacco". I buy it there all the time. So I go to the gas station myself later on and this is the set up part. First I'd like to say that I've seen this house used before to set up one guy who they shot in the back in the garage over here. So I know this house 1826 Laurel Canyon Blvd is the MASON MURDER HOUSE. And I'm here for my day in the sun. FAT chance these dumb ass masons will get me when I don't do anything wrong. I walk out of the gas station at the corner of Sunset and Laurel canyon with my tobacco. I head straight toward the wall where I always cross to return back to this mason murder house. There is a car parked there with its door open. I go straight past it and jump on the wall to cross. Just as I walk past the wall some fool calls out "Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey" but I ignored him. Now I can see what they had planned they had that idiot there to block my path to the wall and start a fight with me when I walked past his car but it didn't work because I was over the wall so fast that the fool didn't have time to reach me. Just as I reached the other side of the wall two older looking women where waiting for something and they looked at each other when I passed by unharmed. Later I had bad pains in my head from the headache and I'm assuming that they gave me some type of drug which they figured would make the damage from a fight much worse, perhaps even fatal but the scum failed again.

03/30/03 I fell to sleep without covering my head completely at about 12:00AM on my chair. I wake up at approximately 4:30AM with a bad headache again. I'm sitting here wondering what to do when Frank Vivier comes running down the stairs and goes out side to the rear exit door of the house which is directly beside my room to turn the light on and then off but do nothing. What can a person have to do in the driveway at 4:30AM? Nothing they are just checking to see if I have woken up yet. Seems since I came here their entire life revolves around watching and trying to do weird shit to me? Funny when they are the ones with all the money. I sent the Los Angeles police department a message tonight explaining my situation.

03/31/03 New stuff: I finally found out what kills that chemical they use to cause cloudy thoughts. It's bleach, household bleach, or oxides of chlorine, given off when bleach interacts with various substances. Tonight Roy came in my room and how ever they do it caused my mind to get very cloudy with some chemical probably on his clothing. I later decided to try some bleach, so I sprayed it all around the floors in this room and sure enough within an hour the cloudiness completely vanished. I have waited days for it to go away at other times. I discovered something else tonight also. After spraying the bleach Frank Vivier comes down here and makes a scene about using bleach in this room. Funny isn't it, as if they knew that bleach is in fact the cure and don't want me to discover it. But more, it appears as though Frank Vivier, an avid TV watcher, spending every single day for the past 10 years watching TV every day and night did not get the idea from himself. I mean it looks like the idea to complain about the bleach and the knowledge of it's potential to destroy the chemicals came from different places. It may be that even Roy is unaware of the chemicals that he is dishing out, he also may be being controlled, but I don't think so because many times I have seen him getting all watery eyed when he looked at me as if he knows someone is trying to kill me and he pities me, so he knows something. I'm now almost certain that either Roy is putting Frank up to things or something, someone is controlling thoughts in Frank's head. It may sound strange but I know for a fact that they can control the small animals I saw it with my own two eyes. It isn't much of a jump to assume that the same technology can be used to penetrate the human skull if the mind is weak and Frank's is very weak. He should be concerning himself with what he is going to do when Roy passes on instead of bothering about me. I told him I'm not the enemy but they will come when Roy is gone.

04/03/03 For the past couple days Roy has been making a big deal out of some great plumbing problem which just happened. Now I know he is lying but I listen anyway. He tells me over and over about how it will cost $6000 just to dig a hole, as if he wants me to volunteer to do it myself. Now this morning: I just found out for certain that Roy is spraying some chemical which causes me dizziness. It's morning and I'm up since 5:30AM watching the currency markets. I'm feeling great health wise. Then at 10:45AM I hear one of the Mexicans who just started working on the plumbing call out "Roy", he calls it out three times, then like as if on cue Roy Schallert comes into my room, having ignored the calls. He has no reason for being here so he asks a stupid question "I'm going to the market, do you need anything?" ha ha, like he cares. What is more is that he never asks that question because I can tell he is a greedy mother fucker. As soon as Roy left this room that dizziness stuff started sweeping into my brain like a waterfall. I immediately opened the doors and windows and left the room. So he goes out into the driveway where his car is and the plumber who has been calling him and he leaves, I hear the car. Just after he leaves the plumber resumes calling "Roy", huh? He must have seen him just leave. But the plumber persists calling "Roy" now he comes right up to my window "Roy", Roy", knowing he wants "me" to answer I say "What do you want" he says "I need Roy", I say "he's not here" and the plumber says "I just need someone to help me", I cut that off there and said "I can't help you I don't live here", but it was obviously a mason trick to get me out in the yard for some set up which will never happen. I told you masons are stupid. They will spend a million dollars trying to kill me, when for 5,000 I would have gone away on my own. They feel anybody who knows is a threat to them. They must live in constant fear and are becoming imbeciles accordingly.

04/18/03 Another thing very obvious about the nature of what is happening here at this house is that every since I came here the shower has been broken. Now this is only odd because the ONLY thing Roy does all day is walk around this house and repair any and every problem he sees. He just found a sewage problem in the yard and paid over $6000 to have it fixed immediately. He fixes phone cords, doors, walls, everything. But the shower, till this day he does not touch. I presume it is because they use it as a chief means of getting bacteria on my skin. Today I wake up and wash my clothes. Every time I used the cloth washer it literally stinks with something decadent, Frank Vivier seems to leave it that way on purpose after every thing he washes. So I decide to wash my socks first using heavy bleach to kill whatever it is in there. After my socks I wash my colored things. While my clothes are washing I go into the room I live in and work on the computer. Roy is walking in and out the back door all this time with no clothes. They are full of dirt, hair and lint and a rim of dirt in around the base of the machine tub. Roy had walked past the machine threw something into it and turned it off! (He probably threw something contain a high concentration of bacteria into it). Can you believe that they are going so far as to put bacteria on my clothing in hope that I will get sick.

04/20/03 I now have come to the conclusion that Roy Schallert did something to his ex wife that caused her to get the brain tumor which killed her. After watching what type of person he is I can see that it is almost 90% likely. He seems to have a good amount of what the Christians have in them which is the tendency to kill something and then feel sad because it is dead. A freak indeed. I may inform Patricia Schallert, the daughter of Roy's dead wife of my opinion and allow her to investigate the matter when the time comes to do so. He seems also to be in possession of various physiologically active chemicals.

02/02/04 An over view of the events which have transpired since I left California: I left Ca in a used Toyota Celica with about $300 in my pocket. The first thing I knew I had to do was find a job and being as the economy is bad I decided to was to take a drywall position for Pete King construction in Phoenix. They have always hired me in the past when I was traveling through and needed a job fast. I arrive on the weekend so I go out and buy some construction tool bags and so forth. I then proceed to call every drywall, framing related advertisement in the local news paper. I didn't get any answers because of the weekend so I waited around Phoenix until Monday. On Monday I went first to Pete King construction, who had hired me 4 times previous over the years. I waited around for a call but they never called me, so I realized Phoenix, AZ was a no go. Pete King is the only Big construction company in that area that I know well. So Now money is much reduced for having bought the tools but no job. I headed directly towards Houston, TX where there were several construction jobs in the past. When I arrive in Houston the paper looks good. I start calling jobs immediately. One company told me to come in to fill out an application because they are hiring. I went to the company, filled out the application and left a copy of my drywall, framing resume which exemplifies my past experience with the lathers union and several previous job references as well as my skill set.

A couple days later still no calls. I buy buy the local Houston chronicle news paper and that company is still running the add for drywallers, but they haven't called me. I have more than ten years experience in the field so I'm perfectly qualified. But no call. I call them and they tell me to wait a few more days, so I wait, but still no call. Now I have been doing construction for many years and I know the business procedures well enough to see that something very strange was happening here. First Pete King ignores me, now Houston, Tx is doing the same thing. This is odd in construction, because they usually hire on the spot. Realizing that my options are more limited than I had expected I begin to lose faith. So I headed to South Florida.

Once I arrived in South Florida Ii immediately began looking for construction work. I found several temporary services hiring construction workers and so I went and applied. they said I needed more tools, so I bought the tools, still no calls. Days turn into weeks and no calls. Finally I get a job offer at a hospital in Hollywood, Fl. Great, I arrive on time the next day. The job is at the Joe D something hospital. I'm working on framing and all is O.K.. A couple days into the job the foreman comes around asking everybody for their telephone numbers. I'm like wow this is strange are they laying us off already? No comment from the foreman. That night, five days into the job I receive a call and they tell me I will not be needed on the job tomorrow. I was on the job and saw that there was plenty of work, but for some strange reason they were laying me off. Back to point zero. I get my car and head for New York city seeking a new start. When I arrive the job prospects don't look so good so I head straight to Boston. I go to the Home depot parking lot holding a sign saying I need work. I have been doing this repeatedly throughout this journey to get gas money and so on. I get a few jobs in Boston. Real petty jobs with real low pay. I'm on a 7 dollar an hour job painting wood in Boston and receive a call from New York. the caller tells me that if I can get back to New York he has a construction job. I leave the next morning for New York, but when I arrive the guy with the job is not to be found. I'm driving up state New York and ARMED pigs arrest me for some bull shit warrant. Now I'm in jail.

I stay in jail for 30 days and then they release me. I have $100 dollars to my name and NO CAR. I go to the car towing lot and the guy starts yelling like an old hag about me not being able to pay the $1000 towing storage fee. I ask him if I can get my things out of the car and he flat out says NO. He wants a deposit on the car before I can have my things. So with only a pair of Levis and boots I'm walking away when the guy offers to let me have "a few of my things" for $15. I take the deal and get some clothes and other things and start walking as fast as I can to get away from that freak before he decides he wants some other shit.

I walked around Manhattan for a few days until I decided that I couldn't take the cold nights and headed back to Florida with a greyhound bus ticket. I hitch hiked to Brownsville, Texas to try an cross the Mexican border to get out of this country, but it didn't look like a good situation as the Mexicans were very poor also so I came back. On my way to Brownsville hitch hiking through Houston I was walking around inside the store and the security came up to me and starting asking me questions about what I was doing. I told them I was waiting for western union. the guy said "you aren't waiting for western union, the information you put on the form is not correct". I'm like WHAT? who cares if the information is not correct to this idiot, I have been doing western union for years. I tell him to get lost or something of that sort and the security LITERALLY JUMPS ME AND TACKLES ME TO THE FLOOR. I fight back but they are two and I'm one so I get no place. They call ARMED PIGS and take me to jail for some warrant I had years ago. I'm in this Houston city jail and they take my boots but give me no shoes to wear and no shower. I spend 7 days in that hell of a jail half starved to death from the hundreds of miles I have walked from New York to Houston hitch hiking. For the entire seven days I receive NO shower and NO way to clean myself, bad food and No shoes to wear.

When they released me a week later I stunk worse than I ever had in my life previous but still had no place to go except back on the highway. I changed my clothes and wasted up with a water hose in some yard and continued on to Brownsville. After Brownsville I hitch hiked back to Houston and then took a bus back to South Florida.

10:00PM, 09/26/2004

I'm now living in a shed in the back yard at the address:

2884 South West ninth street
Fort Lauderdale Florida 33312

When I first came to this house, about eight years ago, there were two people living here: Peter / Michelle Sakasewa, and Robert Hennan. I know Michelle, but I have only spoken with Robert on one occasion (we are strangers for the most part). I arrived at the house after meeting Michelle at a bar. I was in need of a place to stay and Michelle had place I could rent. The house is divided into two houses inside; a large main house and a small side house both of which have all living accommodations. I lived in the small side house for approximately three years working when I could find jobs and studying visual basic programming so I could eventually get a better job. It was into approximately the third year of this tenancy that I became aware of the freemason cult and began divulging the truth of it to others. Soon there after I was forced by various manipulations to leave this area only to find that the problem persisted in every area I went into in the United States. This inability to escape the freemasons coupled with the reality of them denying me employment regardless of my skill level is what has caused me to return to this house. You could say they created a situation where there are no other possibilities other than go live on the streets someplace until they are able to find a means of institutionalizing me or getting me sick and hospitalized (cover me up).

I'm here living in this shed constantly trying to figure out a way to get money in a society which has for all practical purposes put a price on my head via freemasonry. Since I have been here, this time, I have been sending out hundreds of resumes for computer programming position with no reply. Interesting to note that on nearly every programming job I have had I was if not the best then certainly one of the top three programmers on the job, but still years go by and no jobs are offered to me. Since I have been here I took a job doing construction for one week in Hollywood, FL at the Joe demogio children's hospital. Literally two weeks into the job, having proven beyond question, that I'm also highly skilled in that area, the foreman comes around asking all employees for the home telephone numbers. That night, with the job only partially complete, I received a call from the contractor stating that I would not be needed on the job any further. They fired me without reason. I have more than 10 years experience hanging dry wall and framing, but obviously the masons just don't want me to have employment.

Since I have been here, sending out resumes every day, and even going to the day labor place on Sunrise Blvd and being denied employment I have been broke almost all the time. I did have one programming job, but they were paying me $15 per hour and it turned out I was the only one on the job who knew how to write the software, being disgusted with mason antics I quit because the pay was too low. 

About a month ago six kittens showed up in the yard at this house apparently from no place. It appears the mother gave birth to these six kittens and they were without a home so they somehow ended up here. I began caring for the kittens to the extent that it is possible, having very limited funds. About a month into watching them grow now I find myself sometimes sitting in the back yard, just outside the shed I live in, watching these kittens play and so forth.

I have been passing out fliers and I even made a protesting sign which I have used on one occasion so far. I do believe the masons are getting desperate to "cover me up". They have exposed me to many conditions which were intended to get me sick, but all have failed. I sat several times in various lobbies and at the daily labor place feeling as if I was on the verge of sickness, all of a sudden. Which implies that they are distributing airborne bacteria to areas where I end up waiting for a while. But my chewing tobacco (nicotine) has prevented me from falling to general illnesses for almost twenty years now. I exercise every day and beside the HIV virus, which they set me up to acquire in youth, I'm in very good health.

Interesting also is the reason why I had no alternative here except to live in this shed. It appears that suddenly Michelle's father, from Peru, was in need of a place to live. So they flew him to Fort Lauderdale and he is now living in the side house that I used to live in. Also interesting is that he has proven to be a very hateful old crone albeit within a perfect mask of gregariousness, which is of course common to all partisans of this defunct social economic system. I have even found him with his hands inside the washing machine while my clothing were being washed. I have little doubt that the mold infestation I previously had somehow originated by way of him.

05/04/05 Still subsisting in this shed with no jobs. How can I outline all the shit these idiots are putting me through. The treachery is so complicated that it is very hard to follow. Seems they know everything about my health conditions and so forth without me even knowing. I have been getting these small bumps on my skin now for about three years. They do not become infected nor do they itch or anything else, they just pop up and never seem to go away. I have had one or more such bumps on my skin in various places for up to 6 months. I have found many ways of getting rid of them: rubbing zinc pyrithione shampoo on them, bleach, and clortrimazole so I believe they are some type of mold. Seems this mold flourishes on the skin when the person affected consumes sugars so I have stopped eating anything which contains sugar. Funny that this being a problem I have not discussed with anybody in this house and yet as with many other cases they seem to be aware of my condition. In the house they always put in open view various cakes, candy, etc. anything with sugar in it. I suppose to tempt me to eat it and get more or these nasty bumps. I have been living around this house for upwards of eight years and this leaving sweets out in the open, on the kitchen table - refrigerator I use etc., never happened until I began getting these bumps. How do they know, I don't know. Also I have begun spraying bleach in the shower prior to taking a shower to disinfect the area. Soon after I began doing this they put some substance inside the bathroom that reacts with bleach to liberate chlorine gas which intoxicates a person fast. How did they know I was spraying the bathroom with bleach? These cultist fucks are sneaky mother fuckers and it seems they only live to antagonize others. I can't go in this house to shower without that old man, supposedly Michelle's father, doing something freaky trying to elicit some kind of reaction. He will slam doors, put things on top of the cloths washer and dryer when my cloth are inside. For a long time I was putting water in the freezer to use for making cold water. Then that old man began adding something to the ice everytime I tryed to freeze it. How I could tell was that there would be a smooth level of ice where it had partially froze prior to his adding something and an additional conical layer of ice just above it which was obviously added later. I set the water one week day while nobody was here except me and the old fool in the morning. I went back to check it just before peter and bob returned from their jobs and it was tainted. Proving that this old fool had tampered with it. I confronted him and it led to a fist fight whereupon I beat the holy shit out of him. That was about the middle of November 2004 and I went to New Orleans trying to get out of here, but had to return, two weeks later, when I found no opportunity else where. Now the old fool keep a healthy distance from me but still he sneaks around and does the same shit. Nothing really I can do except to kill him which I can't do because his life isn't worth it.

I have been eating cans of tuna fish for so long that it's beginning to drive me mad. My day consists of almost nothing except to feed these cats and myself. We both eat tuna. I eat bread also. The mold bumps just keep coming and I keep killing them with pyrithione and bleach. I know they are giving me these bumps because I began getting them in California when I went to Roy Schallert's house and one day I came in and the room where I sleep there smelled bad like bleach. Later that night I noticed that a bunch of these bumps had formed on my face. Bleach is the one thing that kills these bumps every time. It appears that Roy Schallert, a pensive man who probably feels pity for me, decided to neutralize some of the substance that they gave me, mold or whatever by putting bleach in the room. In all the times I have been around his house, over 15 years on and off, I had never seen them use bleach for even one single thing except on this occasion. Of course it was all covert bull shit and nothing was every said about any of it either by me or him. But I took a lesson from that and tried using bleach to combat this shit months later and found that it was really the only thing that works every time.

I'm sitting here trying to figure out a way to get the hell out of this fucking freak house but I have no money. Summer is beginning and the north is getting warm so I'm fucking getting out of here but I need to get some cash somehow. I received an email from my brother? Gary, I asked him for a loan, he said maybe and never got back to me. So that greedy basterd is out. Probably being controlled by his mason companions which implies that they won't let him do anything unless they can see it somehow leading to illness for me.

This damn bump under my left eye which the masons gave me in Texas is still visible as hell 5 years later (happened June 2000 see above). That fucking mason doctor, Cunningham fucked up my face for good. My left jaw is not even the same size as my right jaw. Surprises the hell out of me how hateful these masons really are. They are as if not even human as they have no human compassion. But I suppose it's the caste separation which allows them to "do anything they choose" to the "lesser ones" which they feel includes me even though my intellectual capacity surpasses most of theirs.

I'll have to read this bio again because it seems they get into my computer, probably with windows XP (xspy), and change all sorts of things to cast me as some kind of fag dying of aids. This I suppose is what they want to use as their excuse for my death which still has not happened. peter has come right out with the words at least 30 fucking times "what you need to do is die". It is a bit disconcerting to hear some fucking idiot without a slice of solid conception to think with telling me such things but never the less it is a reality I have had to deal with. I do of course feel they are wishing on a blue moon as I feel perfectly healthy and have not even a single infection nor do I ever get infections, If AIDS is an immune system killer and opportunistic infections cause death then I'm light years away from it because I don't get any infections, not even in open cuts. The bumps I believe are the masons way of marring my appearance so that the general public will get the impression that I'm sick even though I'm not. They are very much concerned with what people see, like all cockroaches they thrive in darkness and secrecy.

I have been thinking of joining the islamics as a way of getting some revenge on the masons. The only problem I have is with the Allah shit. I don't believe in any gods and it would be hard to pretend that I do. I may do it anyway because it seems all other doors are shut in this fucking miserable cult filled country called America.

Another thing these ass holes constantly do is put dust in the ventricles of my air conditioner. I have sat in this shed for three days without going anyplace and the air conditioners vent is clear as new. Then I go someplace like the store and almost for certain when I return an hour later, the air conditioner vent will be covered with dust somehow. Strangest case of in shed periodic dust storms I have ever seen. They (Michelle) have been mixing wet cat food with dry cat food and sitting it outside on the porch for the cats. It also brings hundreds of flys and I told peter about that but I think that is their goal. I build a little food cage for the cats food bowls so the flys couldn't get into it and I cleaned up the back porch so no food was laying around for flys. Most of the flys are gone but every morning peter pulls the bowls out of the cage I have made and spreads new food all over the back porch just to be a fucking punk assed mason. Man I have to get away from these fucking faggots before they drive me to killing one of them.

That's all for this episode.

05/05/05 My guess as far as these bumps are concerned is that the masons must institute a state of wasting in the people they kill with AIDS or the AIDS just can't kill. So their primary means of causing wasting in a person is causing them to have persistent diarrea. I have been chewing tobbacco for twenty years, nicotine is a diuretic, meaning is causes my body to excrete excess water. So diarea is not a possibility for me and this is why they are afflicting me with these damn mold bumps. They tryed the diarea trick first. Every time they bring me some food item which is not canned that food item will cause diarrea. I went through that shit for the first sixth months of being here until I stopped accepting foods from them unless they were canned. That is how I got to the point of eating canned tuna. The mold bumbs or whatever they are increase with carbohydrate consumption. Thus they cause me to avoid eating fat and sugar. The more sugar, etc. I avoid the thinner I become and the result is the necessary wasting. But they are kidding themselves because I will increase carbohydrate consumption on an as needed basis. This is additional proof that it is the masons who are using AIDS to kill innocent people. Furthermore, it appears that much of what is being done is not known to those who are doing it. Chip inplants given to every lodge member? I don't know but I have seen them acting on knowledge that the person acting did not possess which implies that they are under some kind of remote control and are perhaps innocent of many of the treacherous things they do.

06/07/05 I went up into north western massachusetts intending to live in the woods to escape this mason bull shit but had to return when I realized that life in the woods is far too difficult without adequate provisions. I left May 31th 2005. Now when I return on June 7th I find that they have yet another surprise set up to destroy my life. As I noted previously I'm staying in a shed in the back yard of the house located at 2884 SW. 9th st., Fort Lauderdale FL 33312. Since I have been here it has been nothing but problems most of which are obviously being caused by the masons who live here and took me in once upon a time with the goal of killing me through a series of petty tricks and set ups. One such trick is the placing of poisons just about everywhere on the premises. I counted no less than 30 pesticide bags and bottles laying randomly about the house and property. Now they have moved yet another person into this house who appears to be some kind of body builder. Coincidentally he works nights and starts at precisely the same time that Bob returns from his job. What this means is that I will have no house access for toilet, shower, or laundry. I'm sure they chose this body builder fool so that they could try to kick my ass or some childish imbecile thing like that, as it is the thought level of the masonry in general, petty and small.

I have been applying for every job I could possibly do for more than 6 years now and still no response. I even apply for computer hardware jobs, web design jobs, construction jobs, but receive no reply from any. What this means essentially is that the masons are cutting off my means to self sustenence and rendering my immediate existence impossible. Consequently, I'm backed into a corner with no alternatives except to fight to the death and thus I intend to do. I will surprise any attempt to approach me aggressively with a weapon of death a twenty percent solution of hydrochloric acid sprayed to the eyes.

If it happens that I must resort to fighting for my very life as it is I shall do so and deal with the consequences if I must. So this is where I stand at present.

08/15/05

Sitting here in this shed having side pains from my liver even though I have never had a drinking problem and I quit drinking many years ago. I don't even drink soda pop. I don't use any drugs or medications. These freaks have this cover them up house I'm subsisting in here at 2884 SW. 9th st., Fort Lauderdale FL 33312 reeking with poisons that cause liver damage. Nothing much I can do and they know that as they have denied me employment for several years now with bull shit excuses like "he's different etc. etc..

Well, if the pigs kills me the world will know it was murder and also what hieneous freaks we are actually dealing with here. Hopefully somdebody will see the light of their pathetic wickidness bind and chain them and feed them a diet of RATS as they are rats and so should they eat.

Doesn't make much sense to me that they would be constsntly trying to kill me when I'm for all practical purposes completely innocent. But that is what they have become: insane fools who can only see their own over indulgent appetites while the world suffers in pain.