Three Books

(2)

Three books arrived from Amazon this week and I've been so busy that I haven't even started to read them. The most promising seems to be, Electromagnetic Fields, by Blake Levitt. The other two are, The Body Electric, and Cross Currents (too lazy to credit the authors at the moment). I am looking for information, of course (thump above). If I find anything interesting I'll let you know. I am aware that noxious gases can cause health problems (like, for example, lung cancer), but my ignorance of electromagnetic fields - at least the physical effects of such - is breathtaking. Are my balls being slow-roasted? Approximately when can I expect them to be well done? (Another thump -or wall boom - take your pick.)

I have pretty much given up playing C-III. It is, after all, an avoidance behavior. It was fun (boom). But I am (boom) finding that it is also fun to learn new stuff at the same time I kick Judeofaggot ass in my blogs. Not as much fun as C-III, but still fun enough.

I just reread 'The Bizarre' written July 17. It makes much more sense now, after my first beer. Hint: if some of my writing seems wierd, have a beer and read it again. Makes much more sense after a beer. By the way, I am back to supermarket-bought 3.2 beer. Monday's harrowing encounter with booze-shop-bought Natural Ice was a lesson learned.

Two Theories

(1)

My crotch continues to be a favorite target of Gerash's RF, judging by how long and how intensely my scrotum skin crawls. The best defense is to move to another room, but I can mitigate the symptoms somewhat by crossing my legs. Interestingly, there was little or no RF the night before last. Very rare. I usually endure at least four hours of it every night, along with the gas. I think the RF antennas are located in the ceilings of the downstairs apartment, as close to me as they can possibly get them.

Regarding the gas, I think they pump it into the wall outlet near the bedroom window under pressure, where it then flows into the eaves above my bedroom window, and escapes through the vents under the eaves. The gas is then drawn into my bedroom by the fan system. The prevailing winds at night are usually light from the southwest, which is ideal, given the locations of the vent and the window. All this is speculation, of course. If I am correct, then they would probably have had to make some structural modifications in both cases, which might be obvious to a knowlegable inspector.

Before I forget, I reported in a previous post that I had seen 'the male' (boom) upstairs parking what appeared to be a new car in one of the garages. Wrong. I got another look a few days ago and it was clearly another tenant who somewhat resembles Mr. SSBBTT.

An Enduring Mystery

(2)

Interestingly, Gerash's aggressive 'nature,' and his intimacy with The Lie served him well in his choice of occupation. Lawyers are notorious liars. (Mr. tap-tap, or Ms tap-tap, or Gerash himself, is up there as I type this, doing the usual tap-tap. I am convinced that Gerash himself spends lots of time up there.) Furthermore, lawyers, as 'officers of the court' are virtually immune from criminal prosecution. Jewish lawyers are even more immune. I think Gerash took advantage of this by engaging in (tap) 'ethically questionable' activity including investigating and intimidating witnesses, and possibly even jurors (tap), especially in what he calls, 'seven and eight figure' lawsuits. In any case, there is no doubt that Gerash was successful enough to eventually become a multi-millionaire. But there is something unsatisfying about the lie as a way of life. Gerash longed to find his 'soul mate.' (Gerash actually married and had children, although he later divorced. I think I've met two of them so far. More about that later.)

When did Gerash 'discover' me. That is a mystery. My impression (tap) is that it was sometime during the late '60s. If I am correct about that it means Gerash was stalking me for at least five years before that first meeting at the Denver Chess Club in -'75-'76.

The Lie Personified

(1)

Heavy gassing and some RF from 0400 to 0500 finally convinced me to get out of bed. I now sit here at the computer typing while my scrotum crawls. There was the usual combination of gas/RF from 2300 to at least 0000 when I hit the sack last night. So, almost four hours of dreamless sleep... but I slept pretty late yesterday morning due to being hungover from all that beer.

Looks like scratchpad has been elected to do a photographic series on my life with Kootch. Meanwhile, this blog will continue doing, My Life with Walter Gerash, Jewish Faggot, and my other blog will continue doing my Friday Night Drunks.

I think the psychological theory which best describes Gerash is, reaction formation. Gerash is a walking, talking, reaction formation. He must have been horrified by his discovery at an early age that he was sexually attracted to members of the same sex. He was queer and he hated it. Furthermore the (Jewish) bible condemned it. He therefore denied it early on, and began the process of redefining himself as the very opposite of what he had been born as: a pansy.

He developed a deep voice and an aggressive style of interacting with others. He also developed an obsessive preoccupation with 'image.' To Gerash, 'image' was (and still is) extremely important: Gerash today is little more than his 'image.' There is almost nothing inside but the pansy; all else is 'image' and mirage, and the image is essentially a lie. Gerash is a living lie, in fact, The Lie Personified.

Gerash Takes Aim at My Crotch

(1)

Boy, that last post was bizarre. Even I have no idea what I meant by it. Must have been the beer... I bought some stronger stuff from the booze shop, along with a resupply of whiskey, yesterday. I decided to give the beer (Natural Ice) a tryout. Before I was through I'd drunk eight of the damn things. Whew.

In another interesting (I use the word loosely) development, much recent RF seems to be aimed in the general direction of my crotch. Could it be that 'lover boy Gerash' has become upset with me? Are we in the midst of a 'lover's quarrel?' Yeeeesh. It's easy to tell when your crotch is being irradiated: the skin on your scrotum 'crawls.' If you just sit there it continues to crawl. If you move to another room it stops immediately... until they zero in on your crotch again.

I am impressed with how well they are able to focus the RF and control the effect. They have put a lot of work into this.

The Bizarre

(4)

So far so good (boom). I am a bit innebriated but nevertheless able to carry on. I think maybe I should wrap this up with an introduction to The Bizarre, the suggestion that the 'human brain' (boom) is capable of forming itself into amazing (tap) variations not ordinarily believable (tap) by the rest of us (thump).

Many of these variations are so bizarre as to be, in effect, senseless to most of us. But some of us are not too far removed, so to say, and we tend to recognize the bizarre when we see it. In the 'Old Days' expressions by genetically bizarre people tended to be grouped together as manifestations of angels or devils. Nowadays we see such expressions as insane.

Most modern psychologists - idiots that they are - fail to see this fundamental behavioral trend. They assume that there are certain limits on human neuronal (boom) expression. But the reality is that there are actually no such limits.

Aliens live among us undetected.

LSD-25 Will Do This to you too

(3)

I feel safer now, knowing that the window is closed and probably locked. Wouldn't you? But the history of extended inoccupation continues to bother me: I know 'they' (tap) are using the apartment down below to irradiate me with high energy (tap) EMF. I can feel it. My nerves are dying because of it. The people upstairs have long associated themselves with it (boom), as well as with the various gasses which have been used to harrass me.

But this stuff is waaay too serious. I think I need to lighten things up. So, herewith, a photograph of me on Acid. It was taken in the family room, probably by Kootch. I was on the couch, feet facing South, coming down, probably watching something like, Loveboat. The writing on the back of the photograph reads: 'LSD-25 will do this to you, too.'

The Open Window

(2)

This blog seems to be having some small effects (tap). For example, the window on the apartment downstairs is now closed. It had been open for some time, but now it's closed. I see that as progress. I think the owner has been recently motivated to inspect the apartment and close the window (see inset). In fact, I think I have actually seen the said (Jewish) owner in the parking lot recently.

This line of observation/reasoning suggests the questions:

• Why was the window left open?
• Did the owner know? And if not, why not?
• Was the open window actually an invitation?
• If so, to whom?

Me? Poor little me? Well, folks, I must admit that the thought crossed my mind: here was a Golden (eheh) opportunity to get to the bottom of a mystery, the mystery of the (enter Al Roker: wooo... wooo... wooo...) Apartment Down Below!

I declined the invitation, of course: Unlawful Entry is a crime, and I sincerely doubted the ACSD ability reason it all out.

Only Not Me

(1)

The message advising 'CPU fan failure' (on startup) has returned, and I am attributing this to the software I recently installed. The new printer/scanner is an Hewlett-Packard device (HP Photosmart). I am more than pleased with the device! What a piece of equipment! But I discovered that during the installation of the software another 'user' had been created. I deleted the son-of-a-bitch immediately, of course. But the trojan is still active, so as a matter of 'startup procedure' I now delete all hp-related processes. Furtheremore, I always initiate the Windows Task Manager as soon as possible during startup so that I can observe the process.

It is possible, of course, that the software installation was the cover (fig leaf) for the trojan, which was actually slipped by McAfee. Indeed, that's the likely scenerio. Gerash, the eight figureaire, can buy whomever he wishes to buy (stomp). Only not me.

And Mrs. S-S, B-B, T-T

(2)

The woman walking toward the car may be his 'wife' or 'girlfriend.' The red truck in the background also seems to belong to Shea (if that's his real name).

The plate number of the red truck is 821-KPE, and the plate number of the car is 823-KPE.

Today I noticed the male locking yet another car in one of the garages. It had temporary tags as if just recently purchased (boom above).

Another apparent recent purchase was made by the Jewish fella in 303, next to 304.

The apartment upstairs is never 'empty.' After these two left on their little bike-riding trip somebody remained upstairs, tapping and thumping as usual. This would suggest that at least three people are involved in the 24/7 campaign of voyeurism, evesdropping, and harrassment which is being waged against Kootch and me (mostly me). Who could that third person be? And are there only three? I wonder. However, the nature of the activity up there suggests that the Obsessed Faggot Himself (Walter Gerash) may be that third person, at least occasionally. There could be others, and they might or might not live in this or an adjacent building. One thing is absolutely clear, however: they want me to know that I am being surveilled constantly, day and night.

Mister Stomp-Stomp, Boom-Boom, Tap-Tap

(1)

This is the person who 'lives' upstairs. The name on the mailbox (for 304, which is right above us) is Lane Shea. He is about to leave with his 'lady friend' on a little bike outing (see next).

Endless War

(5)

Walter Gerash in his own words. I'm really not up to commenting (boom) at the moment, since I am waaaay sleep-deprived now, and I'd really rather think about sweeter things. So I'll save my comments for next week. I would point out the obvious right now, however:

Gerash has no sense of humor. Whatever humor he expresses is unintentional humor. Gerash is all about conflict, struggle. Gerash is at war, endless war.

Gerash may be an excellent lawyer, may not. I wouldn't know. But Gerash is not an excellent chess player, that is delusion. Gerash is poor on the chessboard, a beggar who plays down in class C or class D. His 'peak' near the top of class B was an abberation of some sort, not likely to be repeated.

Is his evaluation of himself as a great lawyer equally flawed? I think so. Gerash is a crook. His 'victories' are less due to his courtroom 'art' than to his excellent technical assistance in the form of other lawyers, private investigators, and 'hit men,' not to mention 'ghost writers.'

Gerash is a liar, incapable of saying the truth, or even recognizing the truth. The only thing authentic about Gerash is his hatred. It's what he does best.

Even More King of the Courtroom

(4)

Because of its intrinsic similarity to life, Gerash believes that chess is a great learning tool for youth. "I think chess is very important for young people because it teaches respect for the other side," while he says at the same time it also demonstrates the astronomical number of possible permutations and combinations any life situation contains. "That's what makes law interesting. As in chess, no two situations are the same, and no two personalities are the same."

Like grandmaster David Bronstein, Walter Gerash has an appreciation of the art of chess which goes far beyond just winning. "Unfortunately," he says, "in law you have to worry more about winning than your art because you have a client to represent." Yet, in spite of this, Gerash is noted for his uncanny ability to bring an artistic quality to law by delivering some of the most eloquent summations ever heard in Denver courtrooms. He considers going to court a pleasure and looks at summations as an opportunity to give a "gift of art" to the jury.

With a busy caseload, Gerash still finds time for other pleasures in life. A connoisseur of music, he enjoys an eclectic mix of folk, ethnic, blues, jazz, and classical artists, ranging from Mozart to Janis Joplin. His love of travel finds him contemplating going to Asia, Latin America, China, and Japan. And then, of course, there's the game he loves.

Gerash now plays informal chess, "But not enough of it," he's quick to add. "Now that makes me relax. When I play chess I forget everything else. I forget about my clients in jail awaiting trial. I forget about how to defeat the death penalty. I forget about my horribly burned client and how I have to get a seven or eight figure verdict. It's an escape."

"if I lose it doesn't bother my ego; I know where my ego is; I know where my head is; and I know my role in society. At least I have a fight, at least it was daring."

(end)

More King of the Courtroom

(3)

Having played chess since the age of six, Gerash's devotion to chess has even played a part in one of his most notorious cases: People v. James King trial, featured on Court TV, in which a Denver ex-police officer was accused of quadruple homocide during a bank robbery. The acquittal Gerash won in this case was not only controversial, but personal. The accused, James King, was a chess opponent of his. In fact, part of King's alibi included his walking to the Denver Chess Club on the day the murders occurred.

The King trial, a testament to Gerash's keen ability to combat false media statements and assumptions, was one of the most stressful jury trials he has fought. "Waiting for a verdict, you sometimes lose weight. In the King trial, I waited for nine days for a verdict; it was pretty bad. But I stay in good shape."

Commenting on his firm belief in the ancient Roman wisdom of the interconnection of a sound mind and a sound body, Gerash, now 71, attributes his legal and chess prowess not only to his vast experience, but also to his ardent devotion to exercise. With an ambition to swim in every ocean in the world, he stays fit with regular swimming, running, bicycling, use of rollerblade(TM) skates, a NordicTrack(TM) exerciser, and by entering and winning triathlons.

These activities, he says, keep him prepared for either the life or death struggles of capital murder cases or the deadly battles he fights over the chessboard.

Although likening the adversarial challenge of trial law with the quest for checkmate, Gerash also points out the inherent differences, "There are more variations and surprises in a trial in that you have real live witnesses. Sometimes they don't come off. Or, you may do the greatest job in the world, and if you don't pick a sympathetic jury... the jury is the one that judges the outcome of the game; not the two contestants in the chess tournament which is based upon their prowess, intellectual power, and knowlege of chess. So there the analogy ends."

(continued)

King of the Courtroom

(2)

The article (like the photograph) is 'by' Christine Smith:

----------

Develop a plan. Seize power. Exploit your adversary's weaknesses. Sound familiar? It does to Walter L. Gerash, one of our nation's most prominent trial lawyers. Known for his eccentric courtroom style and for obtaining acquittals in some of Colorado's most sensational murder trials, Gerash isn't just a king in court; he loves chess!

"Both chess and law are reproductions of life," he says. "Namely, since life is a struggle, chess is a struggle, and law is a struggle. Chess is adversarial. Law is adversarial, at least trial law. You have conflicting parties going for each other's throats."

A formidable opponent in court or on the chessboard, Gerash's logic, strategy, and tactics are superbly utilized in both arenas. With two landmark U.S. Supreme Court wins, several seven and eight figure verdicts and settlements in tort and product cases, and scores of high profile homocide cases, Gerash's legal career is proof of his analytical chess-minded thinking. A former tournament player, and life member of the U.S. Chess Federation, his highest rating was about 1790.

"In the struggle for a client's interest, my concentration, research, will to win, and passion is unbounded. In chess I try to do novel, risky, or innovative things. To experiment. I am not a defensive player. I'm an aggressive player. If you lose in chess nobody goes to jail and nobody loses any money (boom) so it pays to be innovative and daring because you're not representing anybody elses interests except your own."

"However," he adds, "when I played tournament chess I became less aggressive and paid attention to defensive mechanisms with a view of quickly getting my men out and planning an attack."

(continued)

You're... One Ugly Muthafucka

(1)

This photograph of Walter Gerash appeared in an article in the April 1998 issue of Chess Life. I was a subscriber at the time, and when I opened the magazine to this photograph I thought, 'There is no old fool like an Old April Fool!'

Gerash is a notorious self-promoter and Denver public figure, and I was used to seeing him on local TV in his role as 'flamboyant local attorney.' But 'flamboyant chess player?' Hardly.

This must be his 'war face.' He must have practiced this face until he'd got it just right (tap). This is Walter Gerash at his ugliest, and he's even uglier on the inside.

The article which accompanied the photograph is equally revealing and I will quote it in its entirety, then do a 'psychological profile' of Gerash based on the article and on what I know about him.

All the World Wants to Know...

(3)

I should also mention that I confirmed my suspicions about the enduring vacancy of 104 by actually waiting while the postperson delivered the mail to our common mailbox. For the several months that I checked, there was a device in 104's box which indicated to the postperson that 104 was empty. Seeing this device, the postperson delivered no mail to 104.

So why is such a valuable apartment being allowed by the owner to just vegetate (tap) for years? Last time I checked the owner's name (about the mid-90s) it was a Jewish-sounding name (something like, 'Golden'). Why would a nice Jewish fella allow such a property to rot? Aren't Jews supposed to be, 'money-hungry?'

Or, on the other hand, is he being paid to let it rot? If so, does he report the income to the IRS? Does he use it as a tax write-off? Who is paying? One wonders. One thing is clear: here is a property which has apparently been going to waste for years. Is there a rational explanation for that and if so, what is it? All the world wants to know...

Except, of course, for the ACSD. The ACSD doesn't want to know.

A Meter's Garbled Tale

(2)

By the way: some years ago I recorded the electric meter readings of apartment 104. I suspected that nobody lived there and if the theory was correct the meter readings would prove it. I recorded the meter readings for a number of dates, but unfortunately did not record the year. My readings confirmed to my satisfaction that the place was largely uninhabited. Here are the readings, along with three of our own meter readings:
(stopped) 01500 - 5 Jan
(stopped) 01500 - 7 Jan
(stopped) 01500 - 8 Jan
(running) 01502 - 17 Jan
(running) 01502 - 18 Jan (ours) 78990
(running) 01503 - 19 Jan (ours) 78915 (our readings make no sense - counting increases. Could the correct number for 18 Jan have been 78890?)
(running) 01503 - 20 Jan (ours) 78938
(running) 01504 - 21 Jan
516 - Mar 5
517 - Mar 7
517 - Mar 8
539 - Mar 31
Needless to say, when the meter was running at all it was running very very slowly. My most recent readings are:
(stopped) 02088 - 5-26-06
(stopped) 02088 - 5-31-06

And that, folks, is a Meter's Garbled Tale.

Enough for One Sitting

(1)

Extremely heavy RF began Sunday morning and lasted through last night. I have never seen it this bad. Yesterday I decided to broach the RF subject with Kootch. Did she have any 'symptoms?' Seems Kootch does indeed have symptoms - at least 'hot feet' symptoms, especially at night, and likes to keep her feet out from under the covers as a result. There are no numb spots on her feet, however, and no other obvious symptoms (tap) such as skin-crawling and tingling. I'm not surprised by the lack of symptoms, because the antennas are much closer to my living areas in the bedroom and living room than they are to her living area in the (other) bedroom, and the 'inverse square law' would suggest as much. But I did find it interesting that she had symptoms of 'hot feet,' especially at night. Would she find the RF explanation credible?

I gave her the theory in a nutshell, so to say, explaining that RF radiation was simply another way for the Gerash and his 'technicals' to harrass me. It was like the gas they had been using: effective, but almost impossible to prove. Kootch laughed at the idea (she still doesn't buy the gas either) and I didn't press the matter.

Then I wondered out loud why the place down there (tap) was uninhabited. Could we maybe buy it and rent it out? How much rent would such a place command? It was a ploy, of course, to get her wondering why such prime real estate has gone vacant for so long - literally years. I implied that the place was uninhabited because it was uninhabitable due to gas and RF, then left it at that. I have learned not to disturb Kootch's world view too much at one sitting.

Gutenberg's Fuck-up

(2)

My recent studies concerning the subject of 'stalkers/stalking' led to a very funny place, 'Jerusalem Syndrome.' Sufferers from this particular mental malady become psychotic after arriving in Jerusalem. Hmm. Does this unfortunate syndrome spread itself across religious boundaries? Do Jews, Christians, and Muslims all suffer from JS? One wonders. I would almost bet that (being gassed here) many of the folks on The 700 Club would be very good candidates for this particular religious infirmity. Hey, Pat! You guilty? I bet you are, you devil, you!

As I read the piece I was reminded of my current conviction that most all of 'modern religion' (an obvious oxymoron) was actually Cultural Delusion. I think Freud made that point in his book, 'The Future of an Illusion,' (which I have not read, by the way). It amazes me that I live in a world full of people who disregard current discoveries about the Nature of Things in favor of old and odius ideas taught by ancient ignoramuses. Gutenberg definitely fucked up when he printed The Bible.

The Experiment, continued

(1)

To continue with the subject in The Experiment (below - interrupted by 'Blogger problems'), I would include 'warmth' as a sensation produced by RF. As suggested in the report cited in the post titled, 'Zeroing In,' the sensation of warmth is as much a function of frequency as of power. I think that the nerve damage to my feet occurred because, 1) on the floor they are closest to the radiating antenna(s) and 2) the forward parts of the feet (toe area) are the 'thinnest' and therefore the most likely to experience the full effects. The bottoms of all toes are almost completely numb, and there is significant numbing of the ball area of the feet, which gradually disappears beyond the ball area. The rest of the foot is normal and there seems to be no damage to the motor nerves.

Today's Goggle Search of 'hot feet' came up with this, suggesting that the condition at least has a name (erythromelagia), if not a definite cause, but none of the posts I read mentioned nerve damage as a corollary condition, or result. I was unable to find the post which suggested msg as the cause, but it might still be in there (in Google) somewhere. Furthermore, my experience of 'hot feet' was not limited to bed, but happened during daylight hours too. And the 'condition' was never so acute that I resorted to cooling my feet in cold water. Even furthermore, only the bottoms of the feet were 'hot.' I'm sure it was RF. I haven't experienced the sensation recently, probably because most of the nerves involved have been destroyed.

RF Effects

(2)

I think that last night I discovered yet another effect of intense RF: quivering (wall boom). I had noticed this effect a couple of times before last night, but didn't associate it with RF until now. The quivering effect happens in the jaw muscles and somewhat resembles teeth-chattering (boom). So far, I have probably experienced at least two hours of this. My impression is that the 'quivering' frequency is in the neighborhood of 8-12 Hz (cycles per second), or about the frequency of chattering. My impression is also that quivering is faster than chattering. If this interpretation of the phenomenon is correct, then I would suggest that the chattering effect is the result of modulation (tap) at roughly the chattering frequency, or possibly at half the chattering frequency, or some harmonic of the chattering frequency.

The long-term physical effects of intense RF seem to be nerve damage. The sensory nerves in my feet, for example, are severely damaged, from the balls of the feet to the toes. I had previously blamed msg (a so-called 'excitotoxin') for this damage, but nowadays RF makes much more sense as the probable cause. There does not seem to be very much brain damage, probably due to the fact that most damage is done at depths of an inch or less. A thick Irish skull probably helps in this particular case.

The long-term emotional effects are probably predictable: an intense desire to inflict severe physical and emotional damage on the perpe(tap)trators and their allies.

The Experiment

(1)

Amazingly, there was very little gas/RF last night and I was able to get a normal night's sleep, with the result that I am again feeling pretty good. I spent much of the morning doing research in 'The Wik' concerning the current subject, 'stalking,' and found some interesting stuff. For example, Wik lists six categories of stalkers (rejection, resentful, intimacy-seeking, erotomanic, incompetent suitor, and predatory), but does not point out that a single stalker can fit into several of those categories simultaneously. (Oops. Just read the citation, which does indeed point out that the categories overlap, and that categorization is largely a matter of judgement.)

(7-5-06, continued from 7-3-06:) I thought this might be a good time to bring you up to date on the most recent information concerning The Experiment. As you may know, I am an unwilling participant in a bizarre experiment concocted by the Jewish Faggot Walter Gerash and his (stomp above me) technical assistants. The experiment is apparently designed to test the effects of intense radio frequency radiation on a human subject. So far as I know, I am the first and only such subject, and therefore my input could be of some scientific value. In fact, I would even go so far as to suggest that at the moment I am the world's foremost authority in this particularly narrow field of enquiry (being irradiated here at 1459). Here are the results so far:

The sensations produced by RF energy range from itching to stinging. The sensations vary according to both frequency and power, and follow roughly these stages: itching, tingling, skin-crawling (tap), (small Blogger problem for a minute or so) Pricking, stinging. A correlary effect can be muscle-twitching. (more Blogger problems, so I'll publish this now... at 1603)