I look out in front of me, and perceive the sea lit up out to the horizon. I look around me: to my left and right, I see the limitless straight line of the beach, and behind it, the dunes -- all in space. With my gaze I make the space my own. The objects are clear and plain. I see the wind bend over to the ground, the reeds that keep the dunes in place.
I am at the center of this universe by means of my gaze, which sweeps across this space and lets me know everything in it. By combining these images of reality, I grasp it as a whole, and become a part of it as a result of my looking.
My sight constructs a universe for me. It reveals to me a directly perceivable reality composed of colorful, simple, harmonious images. But it also furnishes me with more subtle materials. I learn to read my brother’s or my enemy’s face. Transmitted images are superimposed on one another, and as a result, I now know that a given image belongs within a particular context of reality. It conjures up another image; I anticipate what I am going to see, but what is coming will in any case be located in space and will constitute part of reality -- deeper and hidden, in a sense, but still reality.
Such information is precise and pinpointed, and deals only with reality. Nothing else, no other dimension, is ever involved. …Sight has made me the center of the world because it situates me at the point from which I see everything, and causes me to see things relative to this point. My vision makes a circular sweep of space, working from this point: my point of view. But now I am tempted, as the center of the world, to act on this spectacle and transform this setting. What was missing in my vision was someone to act, and I am available.
Sight moves to action at the same time that it serves as the means of action. Again, without it, how could I act, since I wouldn’t even know what my hand was touching or what was within my reach? …I am a subject, not separated from what I look at. Rather, what I see becomes a part of me, as my action involves me in what I see. Images both permit and condition my action; they are always imperative. I lean out the window and look searchingly into the emptiness. Images of distance and depth thrust themselves on my consciousness. I know I mustn’t lean out any further.
The image defines and marks the boundaries of my action. The image does not induce my action, but establishes its conditions and possibilities. Without visual images my action is definitely blind, incoherent, and uncertain. Sight conveys certainties and pieces of information to me, as we have said. Such information is reliable. I perceive a gray ocean and an overcast skyline. This is unquestionable. The reality around me is a certainty in which I can be confident. It is neither incoherent nor deformed. I know, of course, that this is also something learned; there are no data coming directly from the senses, and the shapes and colors and distances I apprehend are perceptible to me because I learned them. My culture has furnished me with the very images I see. But however important this may be (and we must not push this idea too far!), it is still true that I see.
What a dreadful uneasiness takes hold of us when reality is submerged in fog…sight fails to furnish me with clear images and I can no longer act. The world loses its midpoint. It is off center because I cannot see it anymore. The center could be anywhere, but it is no longer located where I am.
In order for my sight to mislead me concerning reality, there must be some unusual phenomenon, like a mirage. The image is not ambiguous. This peach I am looking at is red and weighs heavily on the bending branch. This is absolutely certain. But the image is insignificant. It has no meaning in itself and must be interpreted. In the case of a fruit ripe for picking, the visual image gives me indisputable information, but if I stop there, nothing will happen. It must therefore be interpreted. In order to move from the vision of the fruit to "I should pick it" or "It can be picked," there must be an interpretation: an attribution of meaning to these real images of reality.
Another dimension must be added to sight: interpretation will come through speech. Thus the image contains within itself a deep contradiction. It is not ambiguous: it is coherent, reliable, and inclusive; but it is insignificant. It can have innumerable meanings, depending on culture, learning, or the intervention of some other dimension. For this reason I must learn to see, before looking at the image.
After seeing it, I must learn to interpret it. The image is clear, but this clarity does not imply certainty or comprehension. My certainty is limited to this directly perceived reality that my sight reveals to me. Nothing beyond that.
I call these images "vision" because they are connected with the other images I am accustomed to. I would be tempted to say in this case that the order is reversed. The visual image exists, and then I attribute a meaning to it; but the vision appears only as the illustration of a previously established meaning. No matter how insignificant it may be, the visual image is always rigorous, imperative, and irreversible. I saw what I saw. I cannot change the reality which is conveyed to me in this way, except through my action. There is no ambiguity at this point. Nor is there reversibility.
If I had only one "view" of my universe, I would be a participant in a totality which would be both terribly coherent and yet at the same time composed of fragments without any necessary relationship. The totality would be like a cloud of irrational dots which can form only the framework of an action, a change in the relationships between the points. But the cloud of dots cannot be used for understanding anything, because this pointillism of images is space but not duration. The image is present. It is only a presence. It bears witness to something "already there": the object I see was there before I opened my eyes.
I have a point of view, a location from which I see things, but it is situated within what I see and inseparable from it. Wherever I place myself, however I shift my position, I remain in the field of vision, I remain in the middle of what I see. I can never take my distance, act as if I were not present, or even begin to think independently of what I see.
At night, when I cannot see, a certain distance is established. This explains why the day’s events become so painful at night: the distance between me and the world around me allows for reflection and meditation. A flood of images overwhelms me, beckons me, and carries me along: an image I have seen follows immediately after the one I have just dismissed from my mind. I can never stop this movement of reality in space. I can never consider a given image like a diamond or a painting from which I can take my distance in order to be "myself," instead of being overwhelmed by the images composed of dots.
The image prevents me from taking my distance. And if I cannot establish a certain distance, I can neither judge nor criticize. Of course, I also feel pleasure or displeasure in what I see. I can find it beautiful or ugly. But this is not a critical process. No judgment is involved. Furthermore, what possible criticism or judgment can we make with respect to space and reality? In spite of the frailty we have all observed in a person’s testimony about what he has seen, everyone has the same certainty about anything he has seen. He has seen reality.
Sight involves a relationship with reality as established in space. It is an artificial construction. Medusa’s head transfixes whoever gazes at her. Whoever looks at the scenes on the shields of the Iliad is terror stricken. Sight introduces us to an unbearable shock. Reality when seen inspires horror. Terror is always visual. Horror stories play only on our visual sense and suggest representation.
In contrast, the spoken word can involve us in mystery or drama. It places us in situations of conflict and makes us conscious of tragedy. But it is never on its own terrifying or stupefying. We are dazed by sight -- by an image or a vision. The word takes us to the edge of terror only when descriptive and painting extremely precise images. Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories are an example. All the descriptions we have heard of Nazi death camps move us to revulsion and to a judgment that may be based more on strong feelings than anything else. The image of bulldozers pushing along mounds of skeletal corpses, which shortly before had been living beings, faces teetering from the machine’s pushing -- this image drawn from ‘Night and Fog’ moves us to abject horror. It terrifies us, because we see. Such terror results from the horror of reality.
Reality apprehended by sight is always unbearable, even when that reality is beauty. We have a horror of reality, perhaps because we depend on it so. Language, even when it is realistic, allows us to escape from this terrible reality. Sight locks us up with it and obliges us to look at it. There is no way out -- except by controlling and mastering the reality.
Images fall into a pattern with respect to each other, but sounds do not. Instead, sounds contradict each other and cancel each other out. I am listening to a Mozart concerto, and suddenly near me someone speaks. Or a visitor knocks at my door. Or someone starts noisily putting away dishes and silverware. Sounds produce incoherence. The noises I hear form no panorama of the world.
Alone among all other sounds there is one that is particularly important for us: the spoken word. It ushers us into another dimension: relationship with other living beings, with persons. The Word is the particularly human sound which differentiates us from everything else. In this connection a fundamental difference between seeing and hearing is immediately apparent. In seeing, the living being is one form among many. A human being has a special shape and color, but he is included with all the rest as part of the landscape: a discrete, moving speck. When I hear speech, however, the human being becomes qualitatively different from everything else.
The spoken word, even if it involves an essential proclamation or the thought of a genius, falls into the void, passes, and disappears, if it is not heard and recovered by someone. The ocean over there, even if no one contemplates it, remains what it is and what it was. I see it, and it produces a flurry of emotions in me. I leave. I go away, but it does not. The spoken sentence has sunk into nothingness; time has gone by, and there are no "frozen words" which can make themselves heard again later.
Thus speech is basically presence. It is something alive and is never an object. It cannot be thrown before me and remain there. Once spoken, the word ceases to exist, unless I have recovered it. Before it is spoken, the word places me in an expectant situation, in a future I await eagerly. The word does not exist on its own. It continues to exist only in its effect on the one who spoke it and on the one who recovered it. The word is never an object you can turn this way and that, grasp, and preserve for tomorrow or some distant day when you may have time to deal with it. The word exists now. It is something immediate and can never be manipulated. Either it exists or it doesn’t. It makes me what I am, establishes the speaking me and the listening me, so that my role is determined by the word itself rather than by its content. For the word to become an object, someone must transform it into writing. But then it is no longer speech. Yet even in that form, it requires time.
The word is, of necessity, spoken to someone. If no one is present, it is spoken to oneself or to God. It presupposes an ear; the Great Ear, if necessary. It calls for a response. Every word, even a swearword, an insult, an exclamation, or a soliloquy, begins a dialogue. The monologue is a dialogue in the future or the past, or else it is a dialogue incorporated into a monologue. Here again, time is involved. Dialogue develops according to a variable timetable, but dialogue cannot exist unless those engaging in it are inserted into time. Language is a call, an exchange. I avoid using the threadbare term "communication." It is not true that language exists only to communicate information.
Language never belongs to the order of evident things. It is a continuous movement between hiding and revealing. It makes of the play in human relationships something even more fine and complex than it would be without language. Language exists only for, in, and by virtue of this relationship.
Dialogue involves a certain distance. We must be separated as well as different. I do not speak to a person identical to me. I must have something to say which the other lacks, but he must also be different from me. Yet similarity is required as well. When Adam sees Eve he bursts into speech. He speaks because of her and for her. She was flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone; and yet different: a dissimilar similar person. Speech fills the infinite gap that separates us. But the difference is never removed.
Discourse begins again and again because the distance between us remains. I find I must repeatedly begin speaking again to restate what I have said. The result is an inevitable, yet rich and blessed, redundancy. The word is resumed and repeated because it is never fully explicit or an exact translation of what I have to say. It is never precisely received, never precisely understood.
The word reduced to the value of an algebraic formula with only one possible meaning would be useful for us in carrying out an identical superficial activity. But such language could never create meaning, and would never produce agreement and communication with another person. "Algebraic" language could never produce -- or suggest a story. Bees communicate pieces of information to each other, but do not produce anything like history.
The word can also obstruct and impede history, when mythical language immerses us in an ahistorical time that is repetitive and continually reduced to myth. Language is either historical or ahistorical, either a discourse on action to be undertaken or of a myth to listen to. According to the sort of language used, human history either arises and becomes a significant aspect of humanity’s existence, or else it remains on the level of everyday incoherence.
With insight, meaning becomes perfectly transparent. The other person’s words become mine; I receive them in my own mind. I experience utter intellectual delight, but a delight in my whole being as well, when I understand and am understood. The Word ushers us into time.
When I say that language normally deals with Truth rather than Reality, I only mean that there are two orders of knowledge, two kinds of references we use as human beings. There are references to the concrete, experienced reality around us, and others that come from the spoken universe. The spoken universe is our invention -- something we establish and originate by our words. We derive meaning and understanding from language, and it permits us to go beyond the reality of our lives to enter another universe, which we may call phantasmic, schizophrenic, imaginary, or any other name we choose.
I am certain that since the beginning, human beings have felt a pressing need to frame for themselves something different from the verifiable universe, and we have formed it through language. This universe is what we call truth.
The important thing is that the unique value of language lies in truth. Language is not bound to reality, but to its capacity to create this different universe, which you can call surreal, meta-real, or metaphysical. For the sake of convenience we will call it the order of truth. The word is the creator, founder, and producer of truth.
When it uses a loudspeaker and crushes others with its powerful equipment, when the television set speaks, the word is no longer involved, since no dialogue is possible. What we have in these cases is machines that use language as a way of asserting themselves. Their power is magnified, but language is reduced to a useless series of sounds which inspire only reflexes and animal instincts.
How often we have come up against a blank wall instead of a face, when the other person did not want to understand! How can we make him understand as long as he persists in that attitude? In reality, language is an extraordinary occurrence in which each person’s liberty is respected. I can oppose my word to the other person’s. Or I can turn a deaf ear. I remain free as I face someone who tries to define me, encircle me, or convince me.
In other words, of necessity I give my listener a choice to make. A situation where there is choice is a situation where there is freedom. But at the same time, I invite him to use the gift of liberty inherent in language, just as I have. He must speak in turn, consciously making use of his freedom. I invite him to start down the difficult road of self-knowledge and self-expression, of choice, self-exposure, and unveiling.
Language always involves the exercise of freedom. It is never mechanical, just as it is not an object! Subtle structural linguistic analyses are of course limited to texts; that is, to finite, fixed words rather than open-ended ones. Such analyses seem to account for everything…But they overlook one thing. Once the languages and lexicons, rhetorics, discourses, and narratives have been stripped of their mystery, one thing is left: language itself. It remains because it is history, and such linguistic analysis excludes history.
This is its second characteristic. The paradox, let us remember, is something situated beside or outside the doxa (opinion). The paradox is free of all doxa, but at the same time calls the doxa into question. Roland Barthes is right in showing that "the real instrument of censorship is the endoxa rather than the police."
Our civilization’s major temptation (a problem that comes from technique’s preponderant influence) is to confuse reality with truth. We are made to believe that reality is truth: the only truth. At the time of the controversy over universals, the realists believed that only truth is real. We have inverted the terms, believing that everything is limited to reality. We think that truth is contained within reality and expressed by it. Nothing more. Moreover, there is nothing left beyond reality any more. Nothing is Other; the Wholly Other no longer exists. Everything is reduced to this verifiable reality which is scientifically measurable and pragmatically modifiable. Praxis becomes the measure of all truth. Truth becomes limited to something that falls short of real truth. It is something that can be acted upon. The Word is related only to Truth. The image is related only to reality.
Of course, the word can also refer to reality! It can be perfectly pragmatic, used to command an action or to describe a factual situation. The word enters the world of concrete objects and refers to experiences of reality. It is the means of communication in everyday life, and as a result it fits precisely with all of reality. It conveys information about reality and takes part in the understanding of it. It can even create reality, producing effects that will become part of reality. Thus the word is ambivalent. But its specificity lies in the domain of truth, since this domain is not shared with anything else.
On the contrary, the image cannot leave the domain of reality. It is not ambivalent. At this point I can hear someone tempted to ask: "What is Truth?" I will carefully avoid answering by suggesting some specific content for the word. Such an answer would be challenged immediately, involving us in a long digression which would exceed my capacity. Without attempting this sort of definition, I can show what the object of truth can be, and this will serve to distinguish it clearly from reality. The very questions asked about truth can indicate its nature, replacing the answer that cannot be given. We can grant, then, that anything concerned with the ultimate destination of a human being belongs to the domain of Truth.
It does not matter if one can answer or not, nor does it matter whether the answer is personal or is objectified as philosophy or revelation. But when a person asks about his own life (consciously or unconsciously), then the real question of truth has been asked. And when anyone claims to have resolved it, he is lying.
When he tries to answer this question within the framework of reality alone, he has no answer to offer.
An individual can ask the question of truth and attempt to answer it only through language. The image, on the other hand, belongs to the domain of reality. It can in no way convey anything at all about the order of truth. It never grasps anything but an appearance or outward behavior. It is unable to convey a spiritual experience, a requirement of justice, a testimony to the deepest feelings of a person, or to bear witness to the truth. In all these areas the image will rely on a form. Images can convey a rite, and thus people have a tendency to confuse religious truth with religious rites.
An image can catch a psychological expression on someone’s face: ecstasy, for example. People will believe that they are seeing authentic faith, whereas all they have is a psychological state that can be utterly unrelated to faith. Such a state can be induced by a drug, for example. Faced with such a problem, those who identify reality with truth are so monumentally confused that they deny faith because a psychological state can be artificially induced! An image can show a body’s position, as in a photograph of clasped hands and bowed head, seeming to say that this is prayer. But in reality, no prayer is involved in this image; it could be only a joke. Even when no one is joking, an image is incapable of expressing the seriousness of truth.
…An image can report miracles, but only recorded miracles -- after they have taken place and grace has departed. The image can never penetrate as far as the holy place where the Word proclaims that an individual has become a new creation. The miracle is an expression of this new creation. No image is able to convey any truth at all. This explains in partly why all "spiritual" films are failures. When we insist on expressing spiritual matters this way through images, something other than truth is always perceived. Even more serious and alarming, truth tends to disappear behind all the lighting and makeup. It tends to vanish when squelched by images.
Our generation is characterized by the exclusive preeminence of reality, both at the factual level and in our preoccupations. We are moved in this direction by the marvels of technique, the prevailing tone of our time, the great concern about economic matters, etc. Our era is further characterized by an absolute identification of reality with truth. Marxism has prevailed absolutely in this matter, and science has finally convinced people that the only possible truth consists in knowing reality, and that the proof of truth is success relative to reality. Thus in the thinking of modern individuals the image is the means par excellence which communicates reality and truth at the same time.
This attitude concerning images can be held only if one confuses reality and truth to begin with, believing that a scientific hypothesis is true when it is confirmed by experiments. Such a hypothesis has nothing to do with truth, and is merely accurate. Of course, this preeminence of reality and this confusion coincide with the universal belief in the "fact," taken to be of ultimate value.
The image is an admirable tool for understanding reality. A documentary film of a riot enables us to penetrate the world of anger better than any speech could. But an image is explosive only if the spectator knows what it represents and if it is taken for what it is: a faithful representation of reality. An image becomes falsehood and illusion as soon as a person tries to see truth in it. At that moment, by means of an amazing reversal, the image loses all its explosive power.
When the image is understood to speak only of reality, however, it is explosive and terrible. At this point we discover a new problem. images in our society are always the product of a mechanical technique. Technique is truly an intermediary, since the universe of images is established for us by technique. But this is the equivalent of saying that we find ourselves in the presence of an artificial world, made by an outside force with artificial means. Therefore it is important to realize that stark reality is never conveyed to us in this universe of images. Instead we find a more or less arbitrary construction or reconstruction, with the result that we must constantly remind ourselves of the ambiguity behind the apparent objectivity of the image: it expresses a reality, but of necessity it presents us with an artifice. In this sense the image is deceptive: it passes itself off as reality when it is artifice; it pretends to be unilateral truth when it is a reflection of something that cannot be truth.

The global compressor control system market is anticipated to grow at a significant CAGR during the forecast period (2021-2027). The major factors that are expected to boost the market during the forecast period include technological proliferation and growth across the oil and gas and water and wastewater sector. Moreover, new applications as well as technologies, coupled with an exhaustive supply chain have increased the buying power of end-users, which is another factor that is anticipated to boost the growth of the market during the forecast period. Compressor control systems are a crucial component of many industrial processes. Compressors are used in a wide range of applications ranging from huge manufacturing plants to small mechanical shops. These control systems are integrated into the compressors depending on the type of application it serves. Technological advancements have led to the development of advanced compressors and compressor control systems for customized applications making them more reliable, efficient, and environmentally friendly.
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Industry forecasting is performed to present in-depth understanding of industry tactics. A clear picture on current and upcoming market happenings are provided in this report. Critical factors are highlighted in this Compressor Control System Market study report for enabling business owners take important decision making in terms of decide on the right business doing ideas. Moreover, it aims at offering forthcoming improvements, market restraints and market drivers for the forecast period 2022-2028. It assists novel firms to retain their place in the market. Prioritized market info is discussed through this detailed Compressor Control System Market
This Market report predicts novel product introduction will bring drop in sales or growth in sales. Such an illustrative Compressor Control System Market report enables major firm to stay reorganized on the most current trends and offers best idea about overall demand for particular product offering. Through this global report, it is also possible to acquire a competitive edge. All the COVID-19 related information is covered in this Compressor Control System Market study report along with its major impact of globe’s major firms. It makes easy the work of key players and enables to take data-driven and beneficial decision in terms of making best investments, which techniques to apply and marketing budget of different products. It has many advantages to provide for available or novel services, product and brands. Methodologies captured in this market study report enable central participants to attain the best results to the specific business aims as well as challenges. Getting fast customer feedback is easy with this market study report.
full report of Compressor Control System Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/compressor-control-system-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2029
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2029
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Global Compressor Control System Market Report by Segment
By Component
• Controlling Components
• Networking Components
By Application
• Oil and Gas
• Refining
• Petrochemical
• Power Generation
• Metals and Mining
• Water & Wastewater
• Fertilizers
• Others
Global Compressor Control System Market Report by Region
North America
• US
• Canada
Europe
• Germany
• UK
• France
• Spain
• Italy
• Rest of Europe
Asia-Pacific
• China
• Japan
• India
• Rest of Asia-Pacific
Rest of the World
• Latin America
• Middle East and Africa
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About Orion Market Research
Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
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Contact no: +91 780-304-0404

Wearable technology market is anticipated to grow at a significant CAGR of 12.8% during the forecast period. Wearable technologies are smart electronic devices that can be worn on consumer’s body. Wearable devices include smart watches, smart clothing, smart glasses, and fitness band. The changing lifestyle and consumer preference is driving the growth of the wearable technology market across the globe. People are upgrading their lifestyle towards modernization which increases the usage of smart wearable devices and led to the market growth. For instance, in June 2022, Noise launched its first smart eyewear i1 in India. The smart glasses deliver a unique audio experience to its users priced at Rs 5999. Noise i1 supports Bluetooth version 5.1 and claims to deliver up to 9 hours of battery backup on a single charge. The smart eyewear also supports fast charging and with 15 minutes of charge users can enjoy 120 minutes of music playback.
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Industry forecasting is performed to present in-depth understanding of industry tactics. A clear picture on current and upcoming market happenings are provided in this report. Critical factors are highlighted in this Wearable Technology Market study report for enabling business owners take important decision making in terms of decide on the right business doing ideas. Moreover, it aims at offering forthcoming improvements, market restraints and market drivers for the forecast period 2022-2028. It assists novel firms to retain their place in the market. Prioritized market info is discussed through this detailed Wearable Technology Market
This Market report predicts novel product introduction will bring drop in sales or growth in sales. Such an illustrative Wearable Technology Market report enables major firm to stay reorganized on the most current trends and offers best idea about overall demand for particular product offering. Through this global report, it is also possible to acquire a competitive edge. All the COVID-19 related information is covered in this Wearable Technology Market study report along with its major impact of globe’s major firms. It makes easy the work of key players and enables to take data-driven and beneficial decision in terms of making best investments, which techniques to apply and marketing budget of different products. It has many advantages to provide for available or novel services, product and brands. Methodologies captured in this market study report enable central participants to attain the best results to the specific business aims as well as challenges. Getting fast customer feedback is easy with this market study report.
full report of Wearable Technology Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/wearable-technology-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2029
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2029
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Global Wearable Technology Market Report Segment
By Product
​

• Fitness
• Smart Watches
• Smart Glasses
• Smart Clothing
• Others

By Type
​

• Wrist Wear
• Eyewear
• Hearables
• Bodywear
• Others

By Application
​

• Lifestyle
• Consumer Application
• Healthcare
• Fitness & Sports
• Defense

Global Wearable Technology Market Report Segment by Region
North America
• US
• Canada
Europe
• UK
• Germany
• Italy
• Spain
• France
• Rest of Europe
Asia-Pacific
• China
• India
• Japan
• South Korea
• Rest of Asia-Pacific
Rest of the World
• Latin America
• Middle East & Africa
The Report Covers
​

• Annualized market revenues ($ million) for each market segment.
• Country-wise analysis of major geographical regions.
• Key companies operating in the global wearable technology market. Based on the availability of data, information related to new product launches, and relevant news is also available in the report.
• Analysis of business strategies by identifying the key market segments positioned for strong growth in the future.
• Analysis of market-entry and market expansion strategies.
• Competitive strategies by identifying ‘who-stands-where’ in the market.

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About Orion Market Research
Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
Email: [email protected]
Contact no: +91 780-304-0404

I look out in front of me, and perceive the sea lit up out to the horizon. I look around me: to my left and right, I see the limitless straight line of the beach, and behind it, the dunes -- all in space. With my gaze I make the space my own. The objects are clear and plain. I see the wind bend over to the ground, the reeds that keep the dunes in place.
I am at the center of this universe by means of my gaze, which sweeps across this space and lets me know everything in it. By combining these images of reality, I grasp it as a whole, and become a part of it as a result of my looking.
My sight constructs a universe for me. It reveals to me a directly perceivable reality composed of colorful, simple, harmonious images. But it also furnishes me with more subtle materials. I learn to read my brother’s or my enemy’s face. Transmitted images are superimposed on one another, and as a result, I now know that a given image belongs within a particular context of reality. It conjures up another image; I anticipate what I am going to see, but what is coming will in any case be located in space and will constitute part of reality -- deeper and hidden, in a sense, but still reality.
Such information is precise and pinpointed, and deals only with reality. Nothing else, no other dimension, is ever involved. …Sight has made me the center of the world because it situates me at the point from which I see everything, and causes me to see things relative to this point. My vision makes a circular sweep of space, working from this point: my point of view. But now I am tempted, as the center of the world, to act on this spectacle and transform this setting. What was missing in my vision was someone to act, and I am available.
Sight moves to action at the same time that it serves as the means of action. Again, without it, how could I act, since I wouldn’t even know what my hand was touching or what was within my reach? …I am a subject, not separated from what I look at. Rather, what I see becomes a part of me, as my action involves me in what I see. Images both permit and condition my action; they are always imperative. I lean out the window and look searchingly into the emptiness. Images of distance and depth thrust themselves on my consciousness. I know I mustn’t lean out any further.
The image defines and marks the boundaries of my action. The image does not induce my action, but establishes its conditions and possibilities. Without visual images my action is definitely blind, incoherent, and uncertain. Sight conveys certainties and pieces of information to me, as we have said. Such information is reliable. I perceive a gray ocean and an overcast skyline. This is unquestionable. The reality around me is a certainty in which I can be confident. It is neither incoherent nor deformed. I know, of course, that this is also something learned; there are no data coming directly from the senses, and the shapes and colors and distances I apprehend are perceptible to me because I learned them. My culture has furnished me with the very images I see. But however important this may be (and we must not push this idea too far!), it is still true that I see.
What a dreadful uneasiness takes hold of us when reality is submerged in fog…sight fails to furnish me with clear images and I can no longer act. The world loses its midpoint. It is off center because I cannot see it anymore. The center could be anywhere, but it is no longer located where I am.
In order for my sight to mislead me concerning reality, there must be some unusual phenomenon, like a mirage. The image is not ambiguous. This peach I am looking at is red and weighs heavily on the bending branch. This is absolutely certain. But the image is insignificant. It has no meaning in itself and must be interpreted. In the case of a fruit ripe for picking, the visual image gives me indisputable information, but if I stop there, nothing will happen. It must therefore be interpreted. In order to move from the vision of the fruit to "I should pick it" or "It can be picked," there must be an interpretation: an attribution of meaning to these real images of reality.
Another dimension must be added to sight: interpretation will come through speech. Thus the image contains within itself a deep contradiction. It is not ambiguous: it is coherent, reliable, and inclusive; but it is insignificant. It can have innumerable meanings, depending on culture, learning, or the intervention of some other dimension. For this reason I must learn to see, before looking at the image.
After seeing it, I must learn to interpret it. The image is clear, but this clarity does not imply certainty or comprehension. My certainty is limited to this directly perceived reality that my sight reveals to me. Nothing beyond that.
I call these images "vision" because they are connected with the other images I am accustomed to. I would be tempted to say in this case that the order is reversed. The visual image exists, and then I attribute a meaning to it; but the vision appears only as the illustration of a previously established meaning. No matter how insignificant it may be, the visual image is always rigorous, imperative, and irreversible. I saw what I saw. I cannot change the reality which is conveyed to me in this way, except through my action. There is no ambiguity at this point. Nor is there reversibility.
If I had only one "view" of my universe, I would be a participant in a totality which would be both terribly coherent and yet at the same time composed of fragments without any necessary relationship. The totality would be like a cloud of irrational dots which can form only the framework of an action, a change in the relationships between the points. But the cloud of dots cannot be used for understanding anything, because this pointillism of images is space but not duration. The image is present. It is only a presence. It bears witness to something "already there": the object I see was there before I opened my eyes.
I have a point of view, a location from which I see things, but it is situated within what I see and inseparable from it. Wherever I place myself, however I shift my position, I remain in the field of vision, I remain in the middle of what I see. I can never take my distance, act as if I were not present, or even begin to think independently of what I see.
At night, when I cannot see, a certain distance is established. This explains why the day’s events become so painful at night: the distance between me and the world around me allows for reflection and meditation. A flood of images overwhelms me, beckons me, and carries me along: an image I have seen follows immediately after the one I have just dismissed from my mind. I can never stop this movement of reality in space. I can never consider a given image like a diamond or a painting from which I can take my distance in order to be "myself," instead of being overwhelmed by the images composed of dots.
The image prevents me from taking my distance. And if I cannot establish a certain distance, I can neither judge nor criticize. Of course, I also feel pleasure or displeasure in what I see. I can find it beautiful or ugly. But this is not a critical process. No judgment is involved. Furthermore, what possible criticism or judgment can we make with respect to space and reality? In spite of the frailty we have all observed in a person’s testimony about what he has seen, everyone has the same certainty about anything he has seen. He has seen reality.
Sight involves a relationship with reality as established in space. It is an artificial construction. Medusa’s head transfixes whoever gazes at her. Whoever looks at the scenes on the shields of the Iliad is terror stricken. Sight introduces us to an unbearable shock. Reality when seen inspires horror. Terror is always visual. Horror stories play only on our visual sense and suggest representation.
In contrast, the spoken word can involve us in mystery or drama. It places us in situations of conflict and makes us conscious of tragedy. But it is never on its own terrifying or stupefying. We are dazed by sight -- by an image or a vision. The word takes us to the edge of terror only when descriptive and painting extremely precise images. Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories are an example. All the descriptions we have heard of Nazi death camps move us to revulsion and to a judgment that may be based more on strong feelings than anything else. The image of bulldozers pushing along mounds of skeletal corpses, which shortly before had been living beings, faces teetering from the machine’s pushing -- this image drawn from ‘Night and Fog’ moves us to abject horror. It terrifies us, because we see. Such terror results from the horror of reality.
Reality apprehended by sight is always unbearable, even when that reality is beauty. We have a horror of reality, perhaps because we depend on it so. Language, even when it is realistic, allows us to escape from this terrible reality. Sight locks us up with it and obliges us to look at it. There is no way out -- except by controlling and mastering the reality.
Images fall into a pattern with respect to each other, but sounds do not. Instead, sounds contradict each other and cancel each other out. I am listening to a Mozart concerto, and suddenly near me someone speaks. Or a visitor knocks at my door. Or someone starts noisily putting away dishes and silverware. Sounds produce incoherence. The noises I hear form no panorama of the world.
Alone among all other sounds there is one that is particularly important for us: the spoken word. It ushers us into another dimension: relationship with other living beings, with persons. The Word is the particularly human sound which differentiates us from everything else. In this connection a fundamental difference between seeing and hearing is immediately apparent. In seeing, the living being is one form among many. A human being has a special shape and color, but he is included with all the rest as part of the landscape: a discrete, moving speck. When I hear speech, however, the human being becomes qualitatively different from everything else.
The spoken word, even if it involves an essential proclamation or the thought of a genius, falls into the void, passes, and disappears, if it is not heard and recovered by someone. The ocean over there, even if no one contemplates it, remains what it is and what it was. I see it, and it produces a flurry of emotions in me. I leave. I go away, but it does not. The spoken sentence has sunk into nothingness; time has gone by, and there are no "frozen words" which can make themselves heard again later.
Thus speech is basically presence. It is something alive and is never an object. It cannot be thrown before me and remain there. Once spoken, the word ceases to exist, unless I have recovered it. Before it is spoken, the word places me in an expectant situation, in a future I await eagerly. The word does not exist on its own. It continues to exist only in its effect on the one who spoke it and on the one who recovered it. The word is never an object you can turn this way and that, grasp, and preserve for tomorrow or some distant day when you may have time to deal with it. The word exists now. It is something immediate and can never be manipulated. Either it exists or it doesn’t. It makes me what I am, establishes the speaking me and the listening me, so that my role is determined by the word itself rather than by its content. For the word to become an object, someone must transform it into writing. But then it is no longer speech. Yet even in that form, it requires time.
The word is, of necessity, spoken to someone. If no one is present, it is spoken to oneself or to God. It presupposes an ear; the Great Ear, if necessary. It calls for a response. Every word, even a swearword, an insult, an exclamation, or a soliloquy, begins a dialogue. The monologue is a dialogue in the future or the past, or else it is a dialogue incorporated into a monologue. Here again, time is involved. Dialogue develops according to a variable timetable, but dialogue cannot exist unless those engaging in it are inserted into time. Language is a call, an exchange. I avoid using the threadbare term "communication." It is not true that language exists only to communicate information.
Language never belongs to the order of evident things. It is a continuous movement between hiding and revealing. It makes of the play in human relationships something even more fine and complex than it would be without language. Language exists only for, in, and by virtue of this relationship.
Dialogue involves a certain distance. We must be separated as well as different. I do not speak to a person identical to me. I must have something to say which the other lacks, but he must also be different from me. Yet similarity is required as well. When Adam sees Eve he bursts into speech. He speaks because of her and for her. She was flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone; and yet different: a dissimilar similar person. Speech fills the infinite gap that separates us. But the difference is never removed.
Discourse begins again and again because the distance between us remains. I find I must repeatedly begin speaking again to restate what I have said. The result is an inevitable, yet rich and blessed, redundancy. The word is resumed and repeated because it is never fully explicit or an exact translation of what I have to say. It is never precisely received, never precisely understood.
The word reduced to the value of an algebraic formula with only one possible meaning would be useful for us in carrying out an identical superficial activity. But such language could never create meaning, and would never produce agreement and communication with another person. "Algebraic" language could never produce -- or suggest a story. Bees communicate pieces of information to each other, but do not produce anything like history.
The word can also obstruct and impede history, when mythical language immerses us in an ahistorical time that is repetitive and continually reduced to myth. Language is either historical or ahistorical, either a discourse on action to be undertaken or of a myth to listen to. According to the sort of language used, human history either arises and becomes a significant aspect of humanity’s existence, or else it remains on the level of everyday incoherence.
With insight, meaning becomes perfectly transparent. The other person’s words become mine; I receive them in my own mind. I experience utter intellectual delight, but a delight in my whole being as well, when I understand and am understood. The Word ushers us into time.
When I say that language normally deals with Truth rather than Reality, I only mean that there are two orders of knowledge, two kinds of references we use as human beings. There are references to the concrete, experienced reality around us, and others that come from the spoken universe. The spoken universe is our invention -- something we establish and originate by our words. We derive meaning and understanding from language, and it permits us to go beyond the reality of our lives to enter another universe, which we may call phantasmic, schizophrenic, imaginary, or any other name we choose.
I am certain that since the beginning, human beings have felt a pressing need to frame for themselves something different from the verifiable universe, and we have formed it through language. This universe is what we call truth.
The important thing is that the unique value of language lies in truth. Language is not bound to reality, but to its capacity to create this different universe, which you can call surreal, meta-real, or metaphysical. For the sake of convenience we will call it the order of truth. The word is the creator, founder, and producer of truth.
When it uses a loudspeaker and crushes others with its powerful equipment, when the television set speaks, the word is no longer involved, since no dialogue is possible. What we have in these cases is machines that use language as a way of asserting themselves. Their power is magnified, but language is reduced to a useless series of sounds which inspire only reflexes and animal instincts.
How often we have come up against a blank wall instead of a face, when the other person did not want to understand! How can we make him understand as long as he persists in that attitude? In reality, language is an extraordinary occurrence in which each person’s liberty is respected. I can oppose my word to the other person’s. Or I can turn a deaf ear. I remain free as I face someone who tries to define me, encircle me, or convince me.
In other words, of necessity I give my listener a choice to make. A situation where there is choice is a situation where there is freedom. But at the same time, I invite him to use the gift of liberty inherent in language, just as I have. He must speak in turn, consciously making use of his freedom. I invite him to start down the difficult road of self-knowledge and self-expression, of choice, self-exposure, and unveiling.
Language always involves the exercise of freedom. It is never mechanical, just as it is not an object! Subtle structural linguistic analyses are of course limited to texts; that is, to finite, fixed words rather than open-ended ones. Such analyses seem to account for everything…But they overlook one thing. Once the languages and lexicons, rhetorics, discourses, and narratives have been stripped of their mystery, one thing is left: language itself. It remains because it is history, and such linguistic analysis excludes history.
This is its second characteristic. The paradox, let us remember, is something situated beside or outside the doxa (opinion). The paradox is free of all doxa, but at the same time calls the doxa into question. Roland Barthes is right in showing that "the real instrument of censorship is the endoxa rather than the police."
Our civilization’s major temptation (a problem that comes from technique’s preponderant influence) is to confuse reality with truth. We are made to believe that reality is truth: the only truth. At the time of the controversy over universals, the realists believed that only truth is real. We have inverted the terms, believing that everything is limited to reality. We think that truth is contained within reality and expressed by it. Nothing more. Moreover, there is nothing left beyond reality any more. Nothing is Other; the Wholly Other no longer exists. Everything is reduced to this verifiable reality which is scientifically measurable and pragmatically modifiable. Praxis becomes the measure of all truth. Truth becomes limited to something that falls short of real truth. It is something that can be acted upon. The Word is related only to Truth. The image is related only to reality.
Of course, the word can also refer to reality! It can be perfectly pragmatic, used to command an action or to describe a factual situation. The word enters the world of concrete objects and refers to experiences of reality. It is the means of communication in everyday life, and as a result it fits precisely with all of reality. It conveys information about reality and takes part in the understanding of it. It can even create reality, producing effects that will become part of reality. Thus the word is ambivalent. But its specificity lies in the domain of truth, since this domain is not shared with anything else.
On the contrary, the image cannot leave the domain of reality. It is not ambivalent. At this point I can hear someone tempted to ask: "What is Truth?" I will carefully avoid answering by suggesting some specific content for the word. Such an answer would be challenged immediately, involving us in a long digression which would exceed my capacity. Without attempting this sort of definition, I can show what the object of truth can be, and this will serve to distinguish it clearly from reality. The very questions asked about truth can indicate its nature, replacing the answer that cannot be given. We can grant, then, that anything concerned with the ultimate destination of a human being belongs to the domain of Truth.
It does not matter if one can answer or not, nor does it matter whether the answer is personal or is objectified as philosophy or revelation. But when a person asks about his own life (consciously or unconsciously), then the real question of truth has been asked. And when anyone claims to have resolved it, he is lying.
When he tries to answer this question within the framework of reality alone, he has no answer to offer.
An individual can ask the question of truth and attempt to answer it only through language. The image, on the other hand, belongs to the domain of reality. It can in no way convey anything at all about the order of truth. It never grasps anything but an appearance or outward behavior. It is unable to convey a spiritual experience, a requirement of justice, a testimony to the deepest feelings of a person, or to bear witness to the truth. In all these areas the image will rely on a form. Images can convey a rite, and thus people have a tendency to confuse religious truth with religious rites.
An image can catch a psychological expression on someone’s face: ecstasy, for example. People will believe that they are seeing authentic faith, whereas all they have is a psychological state that can be utterly unrelated to faith. Such a state can be induced by a drug, for example. Faced with such a problem, those who identify reality with truth are so monumentally confused that they deny faith because a psychological state can be artificially induced! An image can show a body’s position, as in a photograph of clasped hands and bowed head, seeming to say that this is prayer. But in reality, no prayer is involved in this image; it could be only a joke. Even when no one is joking, an image is incapable of expressing the seriousness of truth.
…An image can report miracles, but only recorded miracles -- after they have taken place and grace has departed. The image can never penetrate as far as the holy place where the Word proclaims that an individual has become a new creation. The miracle is an expression of this new creation. No image is able to convey any truth at all. This explains in partly why all "spiritual" films are failures. When we insist on expressing spiritual matters this way through images, something other than truth is always perceived. Even more serious and alarming, truth tends to disappear behind all the lighting and makeup. It tends to vanish when squelched by images.
Our generation is characterized by the exclusive preeminence of reality, both at the factual level and in our preoccupations. We are moved in this direction by the marvels of technique, the prevailing tone of our time, the great concern about economic matters, etc. Our era is further characterized by an absolute identification of reality with truth. Marxism has prevailed absolutely in this matter, and science has finally convinced people that the only possible truth consists in knowing reality, and that the proof of truth is success relative to reality. Thus in the thinking of modern individuals the image is the means par excellence which communicates reality and truth at the same time.
This attitude concerning images can be held only if one confuses reality and truth to begin with, believing that a scientific hypothesis is true when it is confirmed by experiments. Such a hypothesis has nothing to do with truth, and is merely accurate. Of course, this preeminence of reality and this confusion coincide with the universal belief in the "fact," taken to be of ultimate value.
The image is an admirable tool for understanding reality. A documentary film of a riot enables us to penetrate the world of anger better than any speech could. But an image is explosive only if the spectator knows what it represents and if it is taken for what it is: a faithful representation of reality. An image becomes falsehood and illusion as soon as a person tries to see truth in it. At that moment, by means of an amazing reversal, the image loses all its explosive power.
When the image is understood to speak only of reality, however, it is explosive and terrible. At this point we discover a new problem. images in our society are always the product of a mechanical technique. Technique is truly an intermediary, since the universe of images is established for us by technique. But this is the equivalent of saying that we find ourselves in the presence of an artificial world, made by an outside force with artificial means. Therefore it is important to realize that stark reality is never conveyed to us in this universe of images. Instead we find a more or less arbitrary construction or reconstruction, with the result that we must constantly remind ourselves of the ambiguity behind the apparent objectivity of the image: it expresses a reality, but of necessity it presents us with an artifice. In this sense the image is deceptive: it passes itself off as reality when it is artifice; it pretends to be unilateral truth when it is a reflection of something that cannot be truth.

Bluetooth speaker market is anticipated to grow at a considerable CAGR of 11.5% during the forecast period. Bluetooth speakers are often used by youngsters to listen to music at any time and in any location. Consumers' increasing use of wireless electronic gadgets has increased demand for such items. Users nowadays frequently utilize multi-colored Bluetooth speakers to decorate their living and hall areas. Alexa, Amazon, and other interactive Bluetooth speakers are also becoming increasingly popular, resulting in high demand for Bluetooth speakers. For instance, according to NPR (National Public Radio) and Edison Research's 2022 Smart Audio Study, 24% of those over the age of 18 own at least one smart speaker. This equates to around 60 million individuals. Because most consumers own more than one smart speaker, the research predicts that there are currently 157 million of these devices in US homes. The study is based on a telephone survey of a little over 1,000 individuals in the US.
Get Free Sample link @ https://www.omrglobal.com/request-sample/bluetooth-speaker-market
Industry forecasting is performed to present in-depth understanding of industry tactics. A clear picture on current and upcoming market happenings are provided in this report. Critical factors are highlighted in this Bluetooth Speaker Market study report for enabling business owners take important decision making in terms of decide on the right business doing ideas. Moreover, it aims at offering forthcoming improvements, market restraints and market drivers for the forecast period 2022-2028. It assists novel firms to retain their place in the market. Prioritized market info is discussed through this detailed Bluetooth Speaker Market
This Market report predicts novel product introduction will bring drop in sales or growth in sales. Such an illustrative Bluetooth Speaker Market report enables major firm to stay reorganized on the most current trends and offers best idea about overall demand for particular product offering. Through this global report, it is also possible to acquire a competitive edge. All the COVID-19 related information is covered in this Bluetooth Speaker Market study report along with its major impact of globe’s major firms. It makes easy the work of key players and enables to take data-driven and beneficial decision in terms of making best investments, which techniques to apply and marketing budget of different products. It has many advantages to provide for available or novel services, product and brands. Methodologies captured in this market study report enable central participants to attain the best results to the specific business aims as well as challenges. Getting fast customer feedback is easy with this market study report.
full report of Bluetooth Speaker Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/bluetooth-speaker-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2030
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2030
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Market Segmentation
Global Bluetooth Speaker Market by Type
o Wireless
o Wired
Global Bluetooth Speaker Market by Application
o Residential
o Commercial
Regional Analysis
o North America
o US
o Canada
o Europe
o UK
o Germany
o Italy
o Spain
o France
o Rest of Europe
o Asia-Pacific
o China
o India
o Japan
o South Korea
o Rest of Asia-Pacific
o Rest of the World
Company Profiles
o Altec Lansing
o Anker Innovations Technology Co., Ltd.
o Apple, Inc.
o Bose Corp.
o Jvckenwood Corp.
o Koninklijke Philips NV
o LG Electronics Inc.
o Logitech
o Onkyo Corp.
o Panasonic Holdings Corp.
o Samsung Electronics Co., Ltd.
o Sony Corp.
o SoundBot
o Yamaha Corp.
o Zebronics India Pvt. Ltd.
The Report Covers-
​

• Market value data analysis for 2023 and forecast to 2030.
• Annualized market revenues ($ million) for each market segment.
• Country-wise analysis of major geographical regions.
• Key companies operating in the global Bluetooth speaker market. Based on the availability of data, information related to new product launches and relevant news is also available in the report.
• Analysis of business strategies by identifying the key market segments positioned for strong growth in the future.
• Analysis of market entry and market expansion strategies.
• Competitive strategies by identifying ‘who stands where’ in the market.

For More Customized Data, Request for Report Customization @ https://www.omrglobal.com/report-customization/bluetooth-speaker-market
About Orion Market Research Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services. The company also offer Digital Marketing services through its subsidiary OMR Digital and Software development and Consulting Services through another subsidiary Encanto Technologies.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
Email: [email protected]
Contact no: +91 780-304-0404

Bluetooth speaker market is anticipated to grow at a considerable CAGR of 11.5% during the forecast period. Bluetooth speakers are often used by youngsters to listen to music at any time and in any location. Consumers' increasing use of wireless electronic gadgets has increased demand for such items. Users nowadays frequently utilize multi-colored Bluetooth speakers to decorate their living and hall areas. Alexa, Amazon, and other interactive Bluetooth speakers are also becoming increasingly popular, resulting in high demand for Bluetooth speakers. For instance, according to NPR (National Public Radio) and Edison Research's 2022 Smart Audio Study, 24% of those over the age of 18 own at least one smart speaker. This equates to around 60 million individuals. Because most consumers own more than one smart speaker, the research predicts that there are currently 157 million of these devices in US homes. The study is based on a telephone survey of a little over 1,000 individuals in the US.
Get Free Sample link @ https://www.omrglobal.com/request-sample/bluetooth-speaker-market
Industry forecasting is performed to present in-depth understanding of industry tactics. A clear picture on current and upcoming market happenings are provided in this report. Critical factors are highlighted in this Bluetooth Speaker Market study report for enabling business owners take important decision making in terms of decide on the right business doing ideas. Moreover, it aims at offering forthcoming improvements, market restraints and market drivers for the forecast period 2022-2028. It assists novel firms to retain their place in the market. Prioritized market info is discussed through this detailed Bluetooth Speaker Market
This Market report predicts novel product introduction will bring drop in sales or growth in sales. Such an illustrative Bluetooth Speaker Market report enables major firm to stay reorganized on the most current trends and offers best idea about overall demand for particular product offering. Through this global report, it is also possible to acquire a competitive edge. All the COVID-19 related information is covered in this Bluetooth Speaker Market study report along with its major impact of globe’s major firms. It makes easy the work of key players and enables to take data-driven and beneficial decision in terms of making best investments, which techniques to apply and marketing budget of different products. It has many advantages to provide for available or novel services, product and brands. Methodologies captured in this market study report enable central participants to attain the best results to the specific business aims as well as challenges. Getting fast customer feedback is easy with this market study report.
full report of Bluetooth Speaker Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/bluetooth-speaker-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2030
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2030
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Market Segmentation
Global Bluetooth Speaker Market by Type
o Wireless
o Wired
Global Bluetooth Speaker Market by Application
o Residential
o Commercial
Regional Analysis
o North America
o US
o Canada
o Europe
o UK
o Germany
o Italy
o Spain
o France
o Rest of Europe
o Asia-Pacific
o China
o India
o Japan
o South Korea
o Rest of Asia-Pacific
o Rest of the World
Company Profiles
o Altec Lansing
o Anker Innovations Technology Co., Ltd.
o Apple, Inc.
o Bose Corp.
o Jvckenwood Corp.
o Koninklijke Philips NV
o LG Electronics Inc.
o Logitech
o Onkyo Corp.
o Panasonic Holdings Corp.
o Samsung Electronics Co., Ltd.
o Sony Corp.
o SoundBot
o Yamaha Corp.
o Zebronics India Pvt. Ltd.
The Report Covers-
​

• Market value data analysis for 2023 and forecast to 2030.
• Annualized market revenues ($ million) for each market segment.
• Country-wise analysis of major geographical regions.
• Key companies operating in the global Bluetooth speaker market. Based on the availability of data, information related to new product launches and relevant news is also available in the report.
• Analysis of business strategies by identifying the key market segments positioned for strong growth in the future.
• Analysis of market entry and market expansion strategies.
• Competitive strategies by identifying ‘who stands where’ in the market.

For More Customized Data, Request for Report Customization @ https://www.omrglobal.com/report-customization/bluetooth-speaker-market
About Orion Market Research Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services. The company also offer Digital Marketing services through its subsidiary OMR Digital and Software development and Consulting Services through another subsidiary Encanto Technologies.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
Email: [email protected]
Contact no: +91 780-304-0404

I've told this story so many times that my larynx hurts. I've dictated it so many times and then had to go back and correct the mistakes I'm working on carpal tunnel as well. Anyway as you can tell I'm at that point of the day where I felt I should share but what's the point? I work in an industry where I'm a painter of sets and such for corporate events and plays and things like that. So out of the blue they decided when you get day to use isisyanite-based primers and paints and we did it over the weekend and I was exposed for close to 16 hours with only a 3M gas mask with a regular filter in it. The sprayed product was called chassis saver. If you want to look up the MSDS you're going to have to type in chassis saver MSDS. It's got a whole smorgasbord of fun like methyl diisocyanate mixed with aluminum flake? That was shot out of an HVLP gun under pressure in a closed Warehouse because it was seemed outside so there was no ventilation for 2 days. I had ... okay let's just quit trying to give anybody to benefit it out here and say I had no protection whatsoever. Cuz if I'm going to mention the 3M mask but not the fact that I need a full body suit gloves full face mask with supplied oxygen and I'm supposed to leave all of my clothes at work including my shoes and not get it on my skin along with proper ventilation? Well none of that was done. First off because we weren't worried about the danger secondly none of that stuff is available to us at work and thirdly I wasn't even the one using the stuff. Didn't matter I still became concerned when the room was a silvery cloud of toxins so after a couple weeks when I realized I was asthmatic and having reactions every time I went to work? My GM had me apply for workers comp and sent me home for 4 days. Then I was asked to come back to work to help and the symptoms started again. It took me a while to figure out what was going on by doing some reading on OSHA and the CDC. Plus all the other articles and case studies. It all lined up it was obvious that I didn't kind of get exposed... I was immersed in it. That includes breathing it having it in my eyes eating after using it no ventilation and wearing the same clothes home along with getting some on my skin when I was helping him clean up afterwards. Poured it on the side of my abdomen because it was in a mixing cup. It felt really good. Anyway, as soon as this hit corporate everything went s*** house crazy. I continue to go to work for 4 weeks and see the doctor that they had sent me to and since I've been self-employed my whole life as a portrait artist? That's my college degree it's a BFA and fine arts. Probably kiss my oil painting career goodbye. So they got rid of the job I had and any other talents I could fall back on. Anyway yeah this is going to be kind of a sarcastic post so enjoy it. What doctor was I send to that was an expert on chemical exposure with isocyanates and occupational acquired asthma? What was the name of that place it's famous like the Mayo Clinic but instead it's everywhere and oh yeah Concentra. You know the place you go to and the doctor runs a stethoscope all over you and says he doesn't hear anything to indicate asthma even though it sounds like there's a kitten stuck in your throat? Then he tricks your blood pressure and says it's normal even though it's rising quickly? He asks you why you're there and nods his head and you can tell in his mind he's going "well that's like a total s*** show. If I do what the insurance adjusters are telling me to do I'm basically sending this guy back to work to die. So let me get on that" I would come in and he would look at me and say so what do you want to do today and I would say I don't know maybe doctor stuff like check me see if I have asthma I don't know what the tests are for us to cyanide exposure? You're the doctor what do you want to do? Oh you want to go okay well be sure and sign that box telling me to return to work because he can't find any injury or evidence of exposure. Thanks. Oh this week you want to do blood work. But you only want to test for the most extreme exposure the kind that would cause neurological damage and okay. So he sends off the blood test tells me it'll be a week. And remind you I'm going back to work every day and getting re-exposed to all the stuff that I'm now allergic to and it's damaging my lungs and I'm coughing so hard my lungs are starting to separate from the wall my back. It's funny it's hilarious you know but at least they're saving money. They get to watch it and hear it but you know... buck up cowboy. You shouldn't smoke. Yeah y'all managed to do more damage to my lungs in 18 hours than I did in 47 years of light smoking. Seriously five cigarettes a day maybe. No history of asthma no history of allergies other than penicillin. I always watched other people just go through miserable seasons I mean just I swollen shut it's not running down their face and I thought how lucky I am. So my job decided that wasn't fair and locked me in the building with a chemical that destroyed a town in India. And they only used it that one time and decided they didn't like the properties of it. Probably cuz it's not meant to be put on wood but that's what the chassis saver was for was to give it sort of a metallic quality so they can roll the what yeah that's right bed truck liner on it that was day two and early the next day. When everybody was at work. When we were applying this stuff they were only two people there me and my supervisor. So if you look at the time clock it tells you when and who was there. If you look at when this stuff was purchased and under what project the stuff was charged to? what client? While we were doing a huge project for caterpillar that they were having out in Las Vegas. Don't know why one of our designers figured that bed liner would be a good idea for some of the staging when you can achieve that with paint and clear coat. But that's what he wanted. So so much for avoiding it just because it's not necessary. In the state of Texas you can't sue your employer for personal injury unless you can prove gross negligence. I would say that kind of falls where we're at. Unfortunately the other thing in Texas is that there aren't many workers comp attorneys because in 1993 they passed some laws that made being a workers comp attorney a tricky thing and you can lose your license really easy. In other words it was a very business friendly law to get companies to move here. Especially when you couldn't get sued for you know sending someone on fire or destroying their lungs and life. So a lot of people can get a worker's comp attorney even if they're a crappy one. But most of them that claim to be workers comp attorneys? They're actually just want to hear your stories so they can see if there's a personal injury lawsuit in there due to gross negligence cuz that's the only way they're going to make any money in this state and if it's a chemical exposure? I've been told by several attorneys who had extreme sympathy for my situation that they couldn't even refer me to an attorney that would take my case hey there's no attorney that's going to touch a chemical exposure case in Texas because it's already tough enough. Well I've been put the ringer lied to followed by a private investigator in the whole time I've been on represented and doing all the paperwork myself which they throw at me everyday usually it's fake stuff or stuff with the wrong date or deadline on it they mess with any attempts I get to find another diagnosis when they know damn well what happened on what day and with what products and who was there and when you know there's just no disputing the fact of what happened and when it happened and that we weren't protected because they don't have that kind of stuff there for PPE. we don't use that stuff so why would we need supplied oxygen masks. If I'm spraying something with metal paint mixed with silo I put on a 3M mask and use it organic filter and keep an eye on when it's starting to wear out even then? I'm not going to get leukemia or brain cancer for another 30 years well after I'm not working for them anymore so they've got that going for them and as do I. And this happened back in February 25th and I was sent home immediately because they were extremely concerned but they be suddenly became unconcerned about 4 days later I guess cuz corporate got involved and told me to come back into work and I spent another four weeks getting worse and worse and worse having the weekends to try and recover but not completely so I would start off at a level of irritation and asthma that was already underway when I returned on Monday. This was fun. Because even though they can see it they would just blame it on my smoking which is hilarious because you know life and for that weekend I wasn't allergic to anything in that building for two and a half years and I'm one of two people in the paint department so it's not a huge crew I'd say there's about 30 people that work there and probably too many people in the front office getting paid too much just sitting air conditioning. I mean they do work but you know if they had the chance they'd probably urinate on your face. That's not fair. They would wait till you run conscious from toxic exposure to gases anyway. Or they would but the workers comp adjusters do that for them. I mean they pay them for a reason and it's not help the employee so? Why am I talking to them again without an attorney oh yeah see above. So yeah they're just having a good old time they're beating me like a pinata making me run around like an idiot and freaking me out with letters and false deadlines that after a while I began to realize it being seriously gas lit I stopped playing nice guy and started recording phone calls and screenshotting text messages to make sure they got saved and save me everything in files and whenever they screwed up and intentionally put the wrong deadline on a Federal form like a FL la form from the Department of Labor anything like that? I would call him about that and record the response. One of my favorites was well that was just a suggested date because you know if you got it done sooner then you would get the paperwork done sooner and everything you get done sooner and you know just faster. Well yeah I understand how that works Einstein thanks I understand the whole concept and time and speed Mass velocity whatever. I swear to God they treat me like Chaka from Land of the Lost. They're all like 30 years younger than me and about to lose their jobs to AI but hey it'll be funny to watch. Won't need all those people running CAD machines and designing stuff after a few years. But let them enjoy it while they can anyway back to my career being ruined so they've just been having a good old time calling me and then they sent out a private investigator to harass me and want to talk to me until finally I just exploded and said what is it exactly you want to talk to me about.? I've been advised by everybody I know who is an attorney who may not be working in workers comp but they are an attorney? That I should never ever meet with a private investigator especially one that's a third party. You know one that's hired and not actually from the company. Cuz then he's not bound by the laws of an attorney or a police officer or an investigator he can do what he wants. Especially since he wanted to just talk to me and fill in the details of what happened that day. You know what caused the accident. I asked him what kind of forum is this going to occur in he said we could meet anywhere you want we can meet at McDonald's but I'm sure you don't want people here in your private information and I told him I don't like McDonald's anyway so I don't know I guess maybe after I get done with this doctor and have a solid diagnosis of asthma and something to stand on I'll be ready to comment. But until then I'm not meeting with you without an attorney in the room and probably even after I'm not going to meet with you without attorney in the room. So now it's come to this thing where I do have a doctor that's helping that was accidentally in their Network because I guess it slipped to the radar that they had an actual doctor that would do spirometry and asthma testing. of course they're messing with her a lot. I get your phone calls I get weird texts everybody has assured me that I'm obviously being observed surveilled. I don't see anything but I don't care either because nothing to see. I'm not at work. Why would I have asthma at home? I'm sure there's some triggers out there but I haven't discovered yet but that'll be fun and something to do in my free time. Anyway they seem to be kind of stuck in this rut where they won't go forward or approve anything unless I meet with the private investigator. Finally I blew my stack and said that I have no obligation to me the private investigator I've made my statement they were two people in the room y'all know what happened y'all know what I'm saying was the result you're not allowing me to explore that so I would think the best way for y'all to fill in the gaps and figure out what happened and what the situation this is letting me go to a f****** doctor that treats me and actually trust me for the things that I claim I have. That way instead of treating me like I'm lying you can prove that I'm lying which won't happen because I'm not lying which is obviously what you know so what is it he wants to ask me about again oh yeah he wants me to fill in the details is he a doctor? No okay well how about you get a doctor to do it instead of somebody who follows people husbands and wives around looking for infidelity. So I still don't have an attorney and I called OSHA reported the exposure and all they did was call my workplace and say "hey, did you have an exposure there?" and they said "yeah, but we got rid of that stuff" and they said "okay great" slow clap into a face palm. Which you know, kind of blew my mind. Because I thought calling OSHA was starting a nuclear war. That they would be in there with clip boards and chemical detectors and wanting to know just what the hell happened here. Because they've been really hard on this chemical and they've been trying to educate the public but evidently calling and just asking if it happened and them saying "well we got rid of that stuff" . That's enough for them. never mind the fact it was an "exposure to isocyanates in the workplace that I was reporting" which is what they told me they were going to check on. I wasn't calling them to tell them that they had harmful materials in a building, so evidently the guy I'm dealing with doesn't understand exactly what the law is or what law I was trying to get them to acknowledge. Cuz that would help my case if there were questions posed by government officials and they had to tell the truth. Either way, if they reported the exposure?great. They followed the law and I would have that an admission that an exposure occurred .....or they didn't report it and it would look really bad and probably cost them some money. But to my dismay, OSHA is obviously a joke. At least here in Dallas. So it's been real fun, yeah it's been one disappointment after the other of people just saying "I know this is my job, but I'm sorry. looking at your situation I'm just not good enough talented or educated enough to take it on. I'm just one of those people takes the easy cases and if something looks difficult? Even if it's a matter of you possibly dying or living on the streets and your whole family getting kicked out and never having a proper diagnosis to have on your medical records to show other employers or people in the situations that you can't be in in the future? I'm going to go over here and handle this easy money case." I'm sure there are some attorneys out there that if they knew about me and my situation it'll be all over it because they like a challenge and realize that there's not much left to do. All the information that I have and phone recordings, some documentation of b******* that has accumulated over the past months. Because normally you know you'd call a lawyer at the beginning of the case and there wouldn't be anything there. But since they figured I was never going to get an attorney? It was just "hey let's whack the pinata guy" . If an attorney were to walk in at this point? We've got enough acts of malfeasance and fraud and deliberate dishonesty, misleading statements and instructions, recordings and plenty of Doom and gloom documents meant to make me quit give up or go away out of fear or exhaustion.....and all I have to do is just hand you this stack and explain to you what's going on and we could probably even find a case that had nothing to do with workers compensation and had more to do with fraud and gross negligence and just have fun doing that. I mean they've had their fun why not? I didn't go into this looking for a cash settlement I just wanted to be taken care of and as the law states it should be. But I'm really just kind of f****** done with the whole f****** thing because everyone I talk to everyone I talk to doesn't want to touch it. When you have workers comp insurance that doesn't have ANY (ZERO) doctors in their Network to handle workplace asthma? which is one of the most common workers comp claims it pretty much leads the pack with all the saw dust and gas fumes out there to breathe in. But no we didn't have any doctors that would treat that or even know how to treat that at all. in fact the ONE that I did find? had retired about 5 years ago. That was funny. it was always a interesting thing to find out that when you finally had an aha moment leading to a hopeful situation? That turned out it was actually just a straw man. Even dealing with the Texas agencies help with people who are going through workers compensation or having difficulties? It depends on how you get on the line there's nothing more extremely helpful to the point where they'll even call the adjuster to make them call you back and help you fill out your forms whereas there were others that are just generally irritated by the fact that you're even calling and don't know what you're talking about. Well believe it or not there are some people in this world that don't do workers comp for living and don't spend their whole time having to deal with it. Especially people that are self-employed portrait artists for most of their lives. I guess this long-winded rambling stream of consciousness is just what's going on in my head and I can tell you right now it ain't a lot of good things and nothing really positive to say about working for anybody under any circumstances and I wouldn't take anything that anybody said they were going to do for you as a fact. It's all good on paper and everything but when it comes down to it it's all about saving money and if it involves an injury that doesn't look good on their records they got to get rid of that and they really don't f****** care what happens to you. You could be dissolving with sulfuric acid on your body and they would tell you to get out of the Sun and quit smoking. And they just watch it happen until you were just a pile of just steaming you know white powder on the ground or whatever happens. Do I sound frustrated? Flippant "whatever. Didn't see that coming". So I guess if you're in Texas and you're an attorney that this work is compensation and you want your entire case handed to you and you can say that you want a chemical exposure case in Texas I've got it right here for you if not fine. If you're from out of state that's fine too if you'd like to file a lawsuit that they beat me with clowns I don't give a carrot to a donkey whether you do that or not. As long as we win the case and they suffer for their behavior. It's not all vengeance. I want but is owed to me by law. And I didn't get that instead I got financial destitution cuz they have not paid me a dime and I'm the runaround which is basically we won't honor your claim until you prove that you were injured on the job. Okay I can't do that unless I prove that I have asthma. So they send me to a doctor that doesn't treat me for asthma now he's my pcp. Finally I find somebody that can treat me what do they do they immediately start pulling the plug on everything saying that my time's up sorry this show's over quick turn off the lights but hold up a minute they were too slow and I was able to get in there and she's doing spirometry tests and everything but you know I know it's not going to be enough because that's why I need to do the super serious testing the kind that definitively says whether you have asthma or not and there's no doubt there's no doubt that these people can try and split hairs and make excuses. Then I get to try and type for the workplace which wouldn't be hard if I had an attorney because this in front of a judge and argue it this is the guy before this is the guy after he's got occupational asthma he worked here for two and a half years and then after that weekend where was the only two days out of the year that that chemical was present and being sprayed? After that he developed severe occupational asthma and an insensitivity to isocyanide due to acute exposure with absolutely no PPE or guidance instruction and now no help no financial help and the guys that I work with here in town that run the show don't talk to me anymore it's all corporate people that were states away and have no idea and don't care what the facts are they just want the positive outcome which is the one that benefits them. But we all know that. We wouldn't be in this form if we didn't know that. Ask for all of y'all that have had better luck congratulations. I am truly happy for you. I don't know where I'm going to be I know obviously you can tell where I am mentally right now and that if another person involved with the adjuster or my employers handed me a form fill out to get the thing that I need that ain't going to happen that they say would happen that won't? I'd wad it up and throw it back in their face without reading it and not worrying about what they say will happen if I don't fill it out. Because they know if I fill it out and sign it or if I don't fill it out and sign it? It wouldn't do a f****** thing. Unless it was an attorney wanting to get with me and get a retainer and all that stuff set up .....and get going. Because nothing.....everything else is just a f****** waste of time, gas and mental energy. It's just that's what it's designed to do... wear you down. You know the truth and you can't prove it and you start feeling like you're living in bad movie like invasion of the body snatchers or something. like I said, it's the ultimate definition of gaslighting. So if you're going through the same thing with workers comp? I feel your pain. I definitely have sympathies if your injuries are more severe or debilitating than mine and you're being treated like this, but something needs to be done about the system because I'm quite aware of what it is now. I've had plenty of time to sit down and parse out what happened and watch videos listen to other attorneys talk read articles on the chemical and how not only companies and workers comp are reacting to it, but also the manufacturers themselves. For instance the CEO that wiped out that city in India? he showed up one day for court in India and then claimed he had to return to the states to take care of some business and never went back. India tried to extradite him for several decades. But instead? he was able to retire with a nice fat paycheck Savage whatever you want to call it and live out the rest of his days in Florida. And I guess he slept well at night knowing what he did. Union carbide. Bought by now Dow? Pretty sure they have never done anything wrong..... I'll have to double check that but I'm pretty sure on they are on up and up right? If they have the good attorney defend the behavior. I mean chemical companies they don't f*** around.... do they? anyway. whatever. I'm not too jaded to where I don't want to accept help or nail these f***. Or just get what I deserve. So take my post as a bit of Comedy or just a rant..... some venting. Maybe you feel the same way. Maybe it helps, maybe it doesn't. Just don't let it scare you cuz your case might be totally different than mine. I have an invisible injury and that's a s** place to be. Just like growing up in Texas. Well I guess it's time to lay down on the couch and play video games. How much is something like that pay?
My apologies if the punctuation spelling of what I've written up there (or actually dictated) has weird words that are completely out of contact in there somewhere. I dictated this because I'm so f****** tired of typing and I'm really tired of going back over what I wrote and fixing the grammar and trying to make it not look insane? It's just fatigue and I just thought I should get this out there in the Reddit forum. I'm a member of some other groups, but you know... first time listener first time caller

“Pete knows what he saw, Martha!”

“Bunch ‘a frightened children ain’t exactly the--”

A door slammed shut.

Clark Kent, only a young boy, squeezed his eyes shut until it hurt and pressed his hands against his ears until his temples throbbed.

One step after the other. Heavy. Crunching grass.

“You think I’m an idiot, Martha?!”

“Now, I never said that.”

The pained look on Clark’s face softened -- softened, so it could be remolded into a whimper while the rest of his body stiffened.

“He ain’t done nothing wrong, all I’m saying is--”

“All you’re saying is that you’d rather not talk about it!”

“There’s nothing to talk about!”

Then why wouldn’t they stop talking! All of these voices, the thousand-million voices screaming at him, and all Clark could hear were the two arguing over him! Him!

A long, creaking groan. Wood shuddering.

“CLARK!”

The word, his name, knocked the other two sources of dismay from his head, an instant of soothing comfort before the pain took hold again and even more intensely, now as if he were pressing his head against a bass booster. “Pa!” Clark cried out, only to regret it as quickly as he had acted on the impulse.

“CLARK!”

His father called for him again and, judging from what should have been the imperceptible way the wind whistled, began dashing around in search of him; it took nothing less than an eternity for Pa to finally find him and one thunderous thwump after the other to finally lay eyes on him.
Pa pulled down the last barrel of hay -- Clark had stacked some around himself in an attempt to muffle the noise -- before breathing a sigh of relief; little did he know, it was a veritable wind storm to his son. “Remember…” he made sure to whisper, his small crisis finally abetting, if only a little. “This is all you. You’re inside your own head and that’s making it so much worse. You are the one in control.”
Clark’s only response was a strangled noise and to curl up further into himself.
To that, Pa felt his own throat tighten. “So open your eyes, son, get on back to the rest of the world… I’m right here.” He extended his hand, gently nudging Clark.
Again, no response and, again, Pa’s throat tightened, twisting and winding until the strain became too much to bear, and finally snapped loose under the pressure.

“DAMNIT, CLARK!”

He burst out, the sudden snap of tension giving each word a trembling quality as it all came pouring out. And then Clark flinched, like all boys do when they’re scared or hurt or both, and the dam was suddenly closed again, sealed with a silent promise.
“Son, I--” Pa stammered, his voice the sort of wreck so mired with cracks and creaks that it was a miracle it held together at all. “I didn’t--”
It was then that Clark finally stirred, hands at last unwrapping themselves from around his head, which peaked up ever so slightly to look out beyond his hay-fort at his father. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice so small that Pa struggled to hear it.
His body screamed a thousand different things to say, but he knew that just was the last thing Clark needed right now. So, fighting back to the calm, measured tone he had managed just a scant few moments ago, Pa said, “You best not be sorry, you ain’t done nothing wrong,” and pulled his son out from his refuge.
“Seriously?” Clark seemed dumbfounded by the statement, so much so that he even resisted the tug, if only for a passing second. “You seen what’s happening back there?” He jabbed a finger towards the house. “It’s all me. Literally. They’re arguing about me. ‘Cuz I-I’m some sort of freak or something!”
Pa was quick to correct him. “You ain’t no different from any other boy I ever met.”
He was met with a piercing glare from his son.
“You know what I mean, aside from your gifts--”
“How the hell’re these supposed to be gifts!” Clark threw up his hands in his best attempt at exasperation, but even an ear without super hearing could hear how his throat stiffened with each word.
Pa smiled, shrugging. “Able to race the car, leap the barn in a single bound…”
“But I don’t want to do any of that!” he said, voice finally breaking. “And w-when it comes with stuff like… this…! I just wanna be Clark Kent: Pete and Lana’s friend. Your and Ma’s son. Not some freak!”
“Clark--!” A cross of anger and dread flared in Pa’s voice, and he caught himself from pulling Clark into a hug. Swallowing hard, he instead summoned the warmest smile he could, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“You are my son, but you are so much more than that too.”

🔻 🔺 🔻 🔺 🔻
DC Next Proudly Presents…!

SUPERMAN: HOUSE OF EL

The Return of Superman - Part 3, Moving at Super Speed
By JPM11S
Edited by ClaraEclair & Deadislandman1
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To say silence hung thick in the air would have been an understatement, because even silence was something more than being frozen in a single, inescapable instant: Kal-El staring down the man clutching his throbbing hand, the man’s friend looking on flush-faced, and the rest of the establishment bracing for whatever happened next. It was a rare thing that Jon Kent found himself slipping into Bullet Time on accident -- a state of heightened awareness where the world seemed to grow still around him -- and an even rarer thing that it should happen when a bright red cape wasn’t slung around his shoulders; simply put, as an instinctual reaction to being threatened, there needed to be, well, something that could threaten him, and there weren’t very many things that seriously could: Kryptonite, which Jon was confident wasn’t in play, and being yelled at, which he couldn’t have even known.
It was then that it dawned on him, so obvious that the muscles and tendons along Jon’s arm tensed in anticipation of slapping himself upside the head before he stopped himself -- a small thunderclap born from his own embarrassment was likely to only make the feeling worse. ‘Just an adrenaline rush…’ Jon explained to no one but himself. ‘Because… you know… watching dad do… that.’ The recently appeared doppelganger of his father had broken a man’s finger to “teach him a lesson” -- something his father most certainly would not have done; what he would have done, and what Jon was currently doing, was take a deep, relaxing breath, easing the stress away so that he could “hit play” on the rest of the world.
It came as something of a mild surprise when… nothing happened; Jon panicked, doing a double take as the terrible thought sprung into his mind: What if this was something else, some time-weapon unleashed just then on the city? Or what if he had failed to slow himself down? Would he be forced to wander the world a waking ghost? Jon shook his head, knocking such silly notions from his mind -- and also getting the attention of Natasha Irons.
“Something up?” she asked, broken from her spellbound trance.
Jon blinked. “Nope. Nothing.” The Ace ‘o Clubs could be a little rough around the edges, so what didn’t even qualify as a minor scuffle at the bar hardly registered with many of the patrons, who merely kept about their business as if nothing had happened -- because, to them, nothing had. Jon shook his head again, chidding himself for thinking that a cursory glance in that general direction had been any real indication of interest; his own bias, he supposed.
Kal-El returned to the table, his sheer weight and size making it known despite the fact that Jon’s attention had been elsewhere. No one said anything, and it took the visitor from another world a few passing seconds to realize that fact -- like they were all waiting for him to do something.
Kal looked up, a look of restrained puzzlement on his face.
Lois’s lips went thin. “What was that?”
“What was… what?” Kal-El’s eyes darted across everyone’s face, searching for an answer.
Irons nudged him gently.
“Wait, really?” he almost recoiled, tilting his chin up and cocking his head, confusion finally overtaking him. “I--”
“Was wrong.” Lois finished the sentence for him. “The hell were you thinking?!”
Jon and Natasha exchanged looks.
Kal-El shrugged it off. Literally. “The way I see it, a broken finger or two isn’t going to impede him in any real way, while also being something he’s not going to just forget.”
“So that makes it alright?!” insisted Lois, leaning forward.
“...yes?” he answered. “Though I feel like that’s… not the answer you wanted.”
“That’s not how we do things here.”
At that moment, with just how each word was frozen in a block of ice, Jon could have swore his mom had spontaneously developed Frost Breath; ironically, that was what inspired him to finally intervene. “You know, mom,” he explained, “In class, the professors always talked about how different all these cultures were from each other: food, clothing, language, medicine, you get the idea… Their sense of justice, how they handled punishments and such… that was one of the big ones too. Judeo-Christian morality versus something like Hammurabi's ‘an eye for an eye.’” He paused, making sure his mom was actually listening. “So, you know, on Kal’s Earth, maybe that was perfectly acceptable. Heck, there’re a lot of people here who would agree with him.”
Lois stopped to consider her answer, though it seemed more an imitation of the action than a genuine attempt. “He’s here now, and that wouldn’t make it right if he wasn’t.”
“Listen, I’m really sorry if--” Kal-El raised his hands in apology.
“No, no,” Jon waved him off, gaze never breaking from his mom. “You can’t just force your values onto another culture.”
“Like he forced that guy’s finger back?” she countered, rising to the bait. “Seems like that’s exactly what you’re talking about.”
“If I was talking about him right now, sure, but I’m talking about you,” insisted Jon. “You’re just doing the same thing you’re complaining about him doing.”
Lois lowered her chin, motioning towards herself. “So, wait, I’m the one who’s done something wrong here?”
“The both of you, yes.”
“So you’re saying it was perfectly alright?”
“I just said it wasn’t.”
“Oh, so you’re not judging him based on your own values?”
Jon shook his head, grinning. “You’re trying to distract from the point!”
“No, I just think the entire argument is flawed, since by criticizing someone like that, you’re inherently impressing your own values on them,” she explained. “You know, the thing you’re taking issue with.”
“But you’re from the same culture as I am: he isn’t.”
“He isn’t sitting right here, yes…” Kal-El groaned.
Lois and Jon kept going like he wasn’t.
“He’s impressing his own cultural values on someone from another.”
“Right, and I agree, but I’m taking issue with you right now, because--”
“Because it’s time for this conversation to end,” Irons finally interjected, much to the audible relief of Kal and Natasha, whose shoulders visibly relaxed. “Seriously, I think I speak for all of us when I say I can hardly follow what you two are going on about.”
“We’re saying--” Jon and Lois began in unison, only to be cut off with a raised hand.
“We’ll manage without it,” he chuckled.
There was a brief lull in the conversation, a time where the most activity was Jon’s eyes scampering about the place and the beat of Kal-El’s fingers against the table. Eventually, Jon’s gaze locked onto something or, more accurately, the lack of something.
With his mouth hung open just slightly, Jon asked, “Hey, did anyone notice Mr. Bibbowski?”
“Yeah,” Natasha spoke up, glancing around the table. “Didn’t you guys’s see?”
She took the blank stares as a no.
“Didn’t you guys catch the sign-note-thing?”
More blank stares.
“Okay, seriously, two of you have literal super senses and the other two are, like, super geniuses.” Nat waved her hands around. “You know what, doesn’t matter. I’m getting off topic. Bibbo’s in the hospital. The sign was about raising money.”
“What?” Lois pressed, immediately leaning forward. “What’s wrong?”
His gaze a million miles away -- or, more accurately, only a few -- Jon answered first. “Lung cancer. He’s in Metropolis General. Room 414.”
Irons chewed his lip, then looked up directly into Jon’s eyes. “First thing tomorrow, you pay him a visit, ‘kay?”
“But I was just going to now…?” Jon cocked his head. “What don’t I know about?”
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In retrospect, the thought that Kal-El would need somewhere to stay really should have occurred to him sooner than it had -- well, that might have been putting it a little too generously: had occurred to him at all. To be fair, though, it wasn’t every day that you met your deceased father from another world, though, also to be fair, he dealt with weirder things on a regular basis.
The Fortress of Solitude, Superman’s icy abode at the top of the world and one of the scant few remaining pieces of Krypton, seemed the most logical place to house Kal while they worked on returning him -- and everyone else -- back to the proper Earth, and it seemed that Jon wasn’t the only one who thought so. Following their malaise-laiden departure from the Ace ‘o Clubs, it was the immediate destination of the not-so-merry band, traveling up across the globe to it’s frosty doorstep, where they needed Jon to heft the Fortress’s giant, golden key above his head and unlock an equally gargantuan front door. The key was made of Supermanium, a metal forged by Clark from the heart of a dying star, and weighed an incalculable millions of tons, the only security measure needed despite it sitting out in the open.
Jon slotted the end of the key bearing the Crest of El into the groove, turning it to trigger the rumblings of icy shards as they peeled back to reveal a wall of blinding, cleansing white light. The group took a step forward, entering into another world -- almost literally: born of materials not of Earth and minds born far from it, the Fortress resembled something best described as an alien, crystalline landscape. The ground was a maze of large, roughly hexagonal spires with smoothly shorn tops, each of which peaked at a slightly different elevation and tapered off in the distance to create a sheer drop; at the edge of that cliff sat a circular array of crystals gently pulsing with light and humming just barely above perception. Placed around what was assumedly the central chamber of the Fortress, judging from the hewn hallway entrances at the perimeter, were trophies and mementos from Clark’s decades-spanning career as Superman, items ranging from the mundane, like Lex Luthor’s shrinking ray, to the absurd, such as psychic sand from the dimension of Quarm, to the profound, like the precious Bottled City of Kandor, a shrunken Kryptonian city rescued from the clutches of the vile Brainiac many years ago.
Kal-El loosed a low whistle. “Wow,” he said, eyes flitting about the place, jumping from the looming pillars that came together to form an arched ceiling, to the large, gaping voids dotted around where the spires didn’t conjoin. “It’s so… clean.”
“Come again?” Jon quirked a brow.
With a flutter of his cape and a look that Jon almost mistook for melancholy, Kal-El raised several inches above the ground and began drifting between the various exhibits on display. “Clean. See, I… I live in my… Fortress of Solitude, so--”
Jon finished for him. “Like a dirty room.”
“Exactly,” Kal looked up from the display and flashed him a subtle smile. “Like a dirty room.”
Lois, unable to fly and wearing shoes ill-begotten for her husband’s arctic-O.S.H.A.-violation, carefully stepped across one hexagonal tile to the next until she finally approached the black-suited Superman. “Little lonely living at the top of the world, no?”
“It is called the Fortress of Solitude.” There was a slight edge to his voice, though Lois could tell it wasn’t one pointed towards her. “Maybe, I wanted to be alone.”
Lois cocked her hip, rested her hand on it, and considered for a long moment pressing deeper, giving in to the gut screaming at her that this was the thing to pick at. Her heart, though… her heart counseled now was not the time, and she had long since learned the wisdom of always following her heart. “If you’re looking for solitude, we might have brought you to the wrong place,” she suggested instead.
In the same manner Jon had not a moment ago, Kal quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”
“A thousand apologies.” From across the room, a voice not unlike his carried, though distorted to an almost unnatural bass and strained with what was best described as someone fighting hard against a thick accent. “If I had been expecting guests, I would have prepared something for you all to enjoy.”
The comparisons to Clark and Kal-El didn’t end with just the man’s voice; while his face and form were the same general shape, his skin was ashen and craggy, like a smooth stone. With every step forward he took, the mass of rippling, coiled muscle underneath his purple-blue Superman t-shirt strained against their confines. “Ah, I see we have another visitor, unless my brother decided death didn’t suit him.” He inclined his head, placing a large hand over his even larger chest. “For now, you can call me Bizarro.”
Natasha, a gleaming smile on her face, chimed in. “We’ve been working on choosing a name!” she said, bounding towards the behemoth and wrapping herself around one of his hulking arms.
Bizarro returned the affection as best he could. “It was Nat’s idea. We were watching Space Trek: Pathfinder one night and--”
“And I was there too,” Jon interjected.
“And Jon was there too,” he chuckled. “But one of the characters was searching for a name and, considering the circumstances, it seemed appropriate that I do the same.”
Floating over towards Bizarro, Kal-El dragged his sight up and down the man, the doppelganger of his enemy from another world, eyeing him with a mix of reservation and curiosity. Eventually, Kal paused on the Crest of El worn on his chest. “You’re not like mine.”
Bizarro nodded. “In one key respect, yes. I’m not as--”
“Dumb.”
“Slow,” he finished, correcting him with a side-eyed glance. “While Jon was working a case with the Flash, Mister Allen devised a way to ‘speed up’ my thought processes.” (Author’s Note: See The Flash #19!) Bizarro paused for several more long moments, looking at Kal like he had to him not a second ago before shaking his head, seemingly perishing the thought. “You’ve met me,” he said, smiling. “Have you had the chance to meet our other housemate?”
Kal cocked his head. “Other housemate?” He threw his eyes behind Bizarro, expecting someone else to enter the chamber, but no one came. “Another reformed villain?”
“Your cousin,” Jon interjected, taking a step forward. “Kara. She got here only a few months ago.”
The spark of joy on Kal’s face lived up to its description: appearing in a bright instant, only to vanish as soon as it came, replaced now by a deeply furrowed brow, emphasizing the lines on the man’s face. “How’s she taking the adjustment? Losing one world, then another, I can’t--” Kal cut himself off when he saw Jon’s eyes widen slightly and his mouth open in response: he didn’t need to wait for the correction he was about to receive. “She’s not from another Earth like me… Where is she? I’d like to meet her.”
Lois shrugged. “She’s busy in National City right now, if I remember correctly, but--”
Irons stepped behind Lois, his hulking form framing her. “But we’d like to wait a minute and figure out how to break the news to her first.”
“No,” Kal said, every muscle in his powerful body visibly tensing, rearing. “She needs my help! You don’t understand what it’s like! You’re not like her! None of you, not really. Only I can understand.”
With a withering look, Irons replied. “You’ve never even met her, how can you know better than her own family?”
“I am her family,” asserted Kal, beginning his ascent into the air. “I helped my Kara through this once already, I can do it again.”
“And you’re the problem! You know how much she’s going through right now?!” Irons shouted up at him. “You died! The person she was sent here to protect! Dead! And now here you are in the flesh and blood! She’s got a lot to process already without that!”
There was a lengthy bout of silence between Kal and everyone else, only coming to an end when the otherworldly Man of Steel asked, “And who’s going to stop me if I try anyway?”
Jon swallowed.
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To be continued in Superman: House of El #4, Don’t Call her Supergirl!

COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum - Reposting

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Reposting this, long read but relevant for the coming deluge of 💩
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1. COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum
2. Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
3. Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
4. How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
5. Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression

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COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum..
There are several techniques for the control and manipulation of a internet forum no matter what, or who is on it. We will go over each technique and demonstrate that only a minimal number of operatives can be used to eventually and effectively gain a control of a 'uncontrolled forum.'
Technique #1 - 'FORUM SLIDING'
If a very sensitive posting of a critical nature has been posted on a forum - it can be quickly removed from public view by 'forum sliding.' In this technique a number of unrelated posts are quietly prepositioned on the forum and allowed to 'age.' Each of these misdirectional forum postings can then be called upon at will to trigger a 'forum slide.' The second requirement is that several fake accounts exist, which can be called upon, to ensure that this technique is not exposed to the public. To trigger a 'forum slide' and 'flush' the critical post out of public view it is simply a matter of logging into each account both real and fake and then 'replying' to prepositined postings with a simple 1 or 2 line comment. This brings the unrelated postings to the top of the forum list, and the critical posting 'slides' down the front page, and quickly out of public view. Although it is difficult or impossible to censor the posting it is now lost in a sea of unrelated and unuseful postings. By this means it becomes effective to keep the readers of the forum reading unrelated and non-issue items.
Technique #2 - 'CONSENSUS CRACKING'
A second highly effective technique (which you can see in operation all the time at www.abovetopsecret.com) is 'consensus cracking.' To develop a consensus crack, the following technique is used. Under the guise of a fake account a posting is made which looks legitimate and is towards the truth is made - but the critical point is that it has a VERY WEAK PREMISE without substantive proof to back the posting. Once this is done then under alternative fake accounts a very strong position in your favour is slowly introduced over the life of the posting. It is IMPERATIVE that both sides are initially presented, so the uninformed reader cannot determine which side is the truth. As postings and replies are made the stronger 'evidence' or disinformation in your favour is slowly 'seeded in.' Thus the uninformed reader will most like develop the same position as you, and if their position is against you their opposition to your posting will be most likely dropped. However in some cases where the forum members are highly educated and can counter your disinformation with real facts and linked postings, you can then 'abort' the consensus cracking by initiating a 'forum slide.'
Technique #3 - 'TOPIC DILUTION'
Topic dilution is not only effective in forum sliding it is also very useful in keeping the forum readers on unrelated and non-productive issues. This is a critical and useful technique to cause a 'RESOURCE BURN.' By implementing continual and non-related postings that distract and disrupt (trolling ) the forum readers they are more effectively stopped from anything of any real productivity. If the intensity of gradual dilution is intense enough, the readers will effectively stop researching and simply slip into a 'gossip mode.' In this state they can be more easily misdirected away from facts towards uninformed conjecture and opinion. The less informed they are the more effective and easy it becomes to control the entire group in the direction that you would desire the group to go in. It must be stressed that a proper assessment of the psychological capabilities and levels of education is first determined of the group to determine at what level to 'drive in the wedge.' By being too far off topic too quickly it may trigger censorship by a forum moderator.
Technique #4 - 'INFORMATION COLLECTION'
Information collection is also a very effective method to determine the psychological level of the forum members, and to gather intelligence that can be used against them. In this technique in a light and positive environment a 'show you mine so me yours' posting is initiated. From the number of replies and the answers that are provided much statistical information can be gathered. An example is to post your 'favourite weapon' and then encourage other members of the forum to showcase what they have. In this matter it can be determined by reverse proration what percentage of the forum community owns a firearm, and or a illegal weapon. This same method can be used by posing as one of the form members and posting your favourite 'technique of operation.' From the replies various methods that the group utilizes can be studied and effective methods developed to stop them from their activities.
Technique #5 - 'ANGER TROLLING'
Statistically, there is always a percentage of the forum posters who are more inclined to violence. In order to determine who these individuals are, it is a requirement to present a image to the forum to deliberately incite a strong psychological reaction. From this the most violent in the group can be effectively singled out for reverse IP location and possibly local enforcement tracking. To accomplish this only requires posting a link to a video depicting a local police officer massively abusing his power against a very innocent individual. Statistically of the million or so police officers in America there is always one or two being caught abusing there powers and the taping of the activity can be then used for intelligence gathering purposes - without the requirement to 'stage' a fake abuse video. This method is extremely effective, and the more so the more abusive the video can be made to look. Sometimes it is useful to 'lead' the forum by replying to your own posting with your own statement of violent intent, and that you 'do not care what the authorities think!!' inflammation. By doing this and showing no fear it may be more effective in getting the more silent and self-disciplined violent intent members of the forum to slip and post their real intentions. This can be used later in a court of law during prosecution.
Technique #6 - 'GAINING FULL CONTROL'
It is important to also be harvesting and continually maneuvering for a forum moderator position. Once this position is obtained, the forum can then be effectively and quietly controlled by deleting unfavourable postings - and one can eventually steer the forum into complete failure and lack of interest by the general public. This is the 'ultimate victory' as the forum is no longer participated with by the general public and no longer useful in maintaining their freedoms. Depending on the level of control you can obtain, you can deliberately steer a forum into defeat by censoring postings, deleting memberships, flooding, and or accidentally taking the forum offline. By this method the forum can be quickly killed. However it is not always in the interest to kill a forum as it can be converted into a 'honey pot' gathering center to collect and misdirect newcomers and from this point be completely used for your control for your agenda purposes.
CONCLUSION
Remember these techniques are only effective if the forum participants DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM. Once they are aware of these techniques the operation can completely fail, and the forum can become uncontrolled. At this point other avenues must be considered such as initiating a false legal precidence to simply have the forum shut down and taken offline. This is not desirable as it then leaves the enforcement agencies unable to track the percentage of those in the population who always resist attempts for control against them. Many other techniques can be utilized and developed by the individual and as you develop further techniques of infiltration and control it is imperative to share then with HQ.
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Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
Note: The first rule and last five (or six, depending on situation) rules are generally not directly within the ability of the traditional disinfo artist to apply. These rules are generally used more directly by those at the leadership, key players, or planning level of the criminal conspiracy or conspiracy to cover up.
1. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Regardless of what you know, don't discuss it -- especially if you are a public figure, news anchor, etc. If it's not reported, it didn't happen, and you never have to deal with the issues.
2. Become incredulous and indignant. Avoid discussing key issues and instead focus on side issues which can be used show the topic as being critical of some otherwise sacrosanct group or theme. This is also known as the 'How dare you!' gambit.
3. Create rumor mongers. Avoid discussing issues by describing all charges, regardless of venue or evidence, as mere rumors and wild accusations. Other derogatory terms mutually exclusive of truth may work as well. This method which works especially well with a silent press, because the only way the public can learn of the facts are through such 'arguable rumors'. If you can associate the material with the Internet, use this fact to certify it a 'wild rumor' from a 'bunch of kids on the Internet' which can have no basis in fact.
4. Use a straw man. Find or create a seeming element of your opponent's argument which you can easily knock down to make yourself look good and the opponent to look bad. Either make up an issue you may safely imply exists based on your interpretation of the opponent/opponent arguments/situation, or select the weakest aspect of the weakest charges. Amplify their significance and destroy them in a way which appears to debunk all the charges, real and fabricated alike, while actually avoiding discussion of the real issues.
5. Sidetrack opponents with name calling and ridicule. This is also known as the primary 'attack the messenger' ploy, though other methods qualify as variants of that approach. Associate opponents with unpopular titles such as 'kooks', 'right-wing', 'liberal', 'left-wing', 'terrorists', 'conspiracy buffs', 'radicals', 'militia', 'racists', 'religious fanatics', 'sexual deviates', and so forth. This makes others shrink from support out of fear of gaining the same label, and you avoid dealing with issues.
6. Hit and Run. In any public forum, make a brief attack of your opponent or the opponent position and then scamper off before an answer can be fielded, or simply ignore any answer. This works extremely well in Internet and letters-to-the-editor environments where a steady stream of new identities can be called upon without having to explain criticism, reasoning -- simply make an accusation or other attack, never discussing issues, and never answering any subsequent response, for that would dignify the opponent's viewpoint.
7. Question motives. Twist or amplify any fact which could be taken to imply that the opponent operates out of a hidden personal agenda or other bias. This avoids discussing issues and forces the accuser on the defensive.
8. Invoke authority. Claim for yourself or associate yourself with authority and present your argument with enough 'jargon' and 'minutia' to illustrate you are 'one who knows', and simply say it isn't so without discussing issues or demonstrating concretely why or citing sources.
9. Play Dumb. No matter what evidence or logical argument is offered, avoid discussing issues except with denials they have any credibility, make any sense, provide any proof, contain or make a point, have logic, or support a conclusion. Mix well for maximum effect.
10. Associate opponent charges with old news. A derivative of the straw man -- usually, in any large-scale matter of high visibility, someone will make charges early on which can be or were already easily dealt with - a kind of investment for the future should the matter not be so easily contained.) Where it can be foreseen, have your own side raise a straw man issue and have it dealt with early on as part of the initial contingency plans. Subsequent charges, regardless of validity or new ground uncovered, can usually then be associated with the original charge and dismissed as simply being a rehash without need to address current issues -- so much the better where the opponent is or was involved with the original source.
11. Establish and rely upon fall-back positions. Using a minor matter or element of the facts, take the 'high road' and 'confess' with candor that some innocent mistake, in hindsight, was made -- but that opponents have seized on the opportunity to blow it all out of proportion and imply greater criminalities which, 'just isn't so.' Others can reinforce this on your behalf, later, and even publicly 'call for an end to the nonsense' because you have already 'done the right thing.' Done properly, this can garner sympathy and respect for 'coming clean' and 'owning up' to your mistakes without addressing more serious issues.
12. Enigmas have no solution. Drawing upon the overall umbrella of events surrounding the crime and the multitude of players and events, paint the entire affair as too complex to solve. This causes those otherwise following the matter to begin to lose interest more quickly without having to address the actual issues.
13. Alice in Wonderland Logic. Avoid discussion of the issues by reasoning backwards or with an apparent deductive logic which forbears any actual material fact.
14. Demand complete solutions. Avoid the issues by requiring opponents to solve the crime at hand completely, a ploy which works best with issues qualifying for rule 10.
15. Fit the facts to alternate conclusions. This requires creative thinking unless the crime was planned with contingency conclusions in place.
16. Vanish evidence and witnesses. If it does not exist, it is not fact, and you won't have to address the issue.
17. Change the subject. Usually in connection with one of the other ploys listed here, find a way to side-track the discussion with abrasive or controversial comments in hopes of turning attention to a new, more manageable topic. This works especially well with companions who can 'argue' with you over the new topic and polarize the discussion arena in order to avoid discussing more key issues.
18. Emotionalize, Antagonize, and Goad Opponents. If you can't do anything else, chide and taunt your opponents and draw them into emotional responses which will tend to make them look foolish and overly motivated, and generally render their material somewhat less coherent. Not only will you avoid discussing the issues in the first instance, but even if their emotional response addresses the issue, you can further avoid the issues by then focusing on how 'sensitive they are to criticism.'
19. Ignore proof presented, demand impossible proofs. This is perhaps a variant of the 'play dumb' rule. Regardless of what material may be presented by an opponent in public forums, claim the material irrelevant and demand proof that is impossible for the opponent to come by (it may exist, but not be at his disposal, or it may be something which is known to be safely destroyed or withheld, such as a murder weapon.) In order to completely avoid discussing issues, it may be required that you to categorically deny and be critical of media or books as valid sources, deny that witnesses are acceptable, or even deny that statements made by government or other authorities have any meaning or relevance.
20. False evidence. Whenever possible, introduce new facts or clues designed and manufactured to conflict with opponent presentations -- as useful tools to neutralize sensitive issues or impede resolution. This works best when the crime was designed with contingencies for the purpose, and the facts cannot be easily separated from the fabrications.
21. Call a Grand Jury, Special Prosecutor, or other empowered investigative body. Subvert the (process) to your benefit and effectively neutralize all sensitive issues without open discussion. Once convened, the evidence and testimony are required to be secret when properly handled. For instance, if you own the prosecuting attorney, it can insure a Grand Jury hears no useful evidence and that the evidence is sealed and unavailable to subsequent investigators. Once a favorable verdict is achieved, the matter can be considered officially closed. Usually, this technique is applied to find the guilty innocent, but it can also be used to obtain charges when seeking to frame a victim.
22. Manufacture a new truth. Create your own expert(s), group(s), author(s), leader(s) or influence existing ones willing to forge new ground via scientific, investigative, or social research or testimony which concludes favorably. In this way, if you must actually address issues, you can do so authoritatively.
23. Create bigger distractions. If the above does not seem to be working to distract from sensitive issues, or to prevent unwanted media coverage of unstoppable events such as trials, create bigger news stories (or treat them as such) to distract the multitudes.
24. Silence critics. If the above methods do not prevail, consider removing opponents from circulation by some definitive solution so that the need to address issues is removed entirely. This can be by their death, arrest and detention, blackmail or destruction of their character by release of blackmail information, or merely by destroying them financially, emotionally, or severely damaging their health.
25. Vanish. If you are a key holder of secrets or otherwise overly illuminated and you think the heat is getting too hot, to avoid the issues, vacate the kitchen.
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Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
1) Avoidance. They never actually discuss issues head-on or provide constructive input, generally avoiding citation of references or credentials. Rather, they merely imply this, that, and the other. Virtually everything about their presentation implies their authority and expert knowledge in the matter without any further justification for credibility.
2) Selectivity. They tend to pick and choose opponents carefully, either applying the hit-and-run approach against mere commentators supportive of opponents, or focusing heavier attacks on key opponents who are known to directly address issues. Should a commentator become argumentative with any success, the focus will shift to include the commentator as well.
3) Coincidental. They tend to surface suddenly and somewhat coincidentally with a new controversial topic with no clear prior record of participation in general discussions in the particular public arena involved. They likewise tend to vanish once the topic is no longer of general concern. They were likely directed or elected to be there for a reason, and vanish with the reason.
4) Teamwork. They tend to operate in self-congratulatory and complementary packs or teams. Of course, this can happen naturally in any public forum, but there will likely be an ongoing pattern of frequent exchanges of this sort where professionals are involved. Sometimes one of the players will infiltrate the opponent camp to become a source for straw man or other tactics designed to dilute opponent presentation strength.
5) Anti-conspiratorial. They almost always have disdain for 'conspiracy theorists' and, usually, for those who in any way believe JFK was not killed by LHO. Ask yourself why, if they hold such disdain for conspiracy theorists, do they focus on defending a single topic discussed in a NG focusing on conspiracies? One might think they would either be trying to make fools of everyone on every topic, or simply ignore the group they hold in such disdain.Or, one might more rightly conclude they have an ulterior motive for their actions in going out of their way to focus as they do.
6) Artificial Emotions. An odd kind of 'artificial' emotionalism and an unusually thick skin -- an ability to persevere and persist even in the face of overwhelming criticism and unacceptance. This likely stems from intelligence community training that, no matter how condemning the evidence, deny everything, and never become emotionally involved or reactive. The net result for a disinfo artist is that emotions can seem artificial.
Most people, if responding in anger, for instance, will express their animosity throughout their rebuttal. But disinfo types usually have trouble maintaining the 'image' and are hot and cold with respect to pretended emotions and their usually more calm or unemotional communications style. It's just a job, and they often seem unable to 'act their role in character' as well in a communications medium as they might be able in a real face-to-face conversation/confrontation. You might have outright rage and indignation one moment, ho-hum the next, and more anger later -- an emotional yo-yo.
With respect to being thick-skinned, no amount of criticism will deter them from doing their job, and they will generally continue their old disinfo patterns without any adjustments to criticisms of how obvious it is that they play that game -- where a more rational individual who truly cares what others think might seek to improve their communications style, substance, and so forth, or simply give up.
7) Inconsistent. There is also a tendency to make mistakes which betray their true self/motives. This may stem from not really knowing their topic, or it may be somewhat 'freudian', so to speak, in that perhaps they really root for the side of truth deep within.
I have noted that often, they will simply cite contradictory information which neutralizes itself and the author. For instance, one such player claimed to be a Navy pilot, but blamed his poor communicating skills (spelling, grammar, incoherent style) on having only a grade-school education. I'm not aware of too many Navy pilots who don't have a college degree. Another claimed no knowledge of a particular topic/situation but later claimed first-hand knowledge of it.
8) Time Constant. Recently discovered, with respect to News Groups, is the response time factor. There are three ways this can be seen to work, especially when the government or other empowered player is involved in a cover up operation:
a) ANY NG posting by a targeted proponent for truth can result in an IMMEDIATE response. The government and other empowered players can afford to pay people to sit there and watch for an opportunity to do some damage. SINCE DISINFO IN A NG ONLY WORKS IF THE READER SEES IT - FAST RESPONSE IS CALLED FOR, or the visitor may be swayed towards truth.
b) When dealing in more direct ways with a disinformationalist, such as email, DELAY IS CALLED FOR - there will usually be a minimum of a 48-72 hour delay. This allows a sit-down team discussion on response strategy for best effect, and even enough time to 'get permission' or instruction from a formal chain of command.
c) In the NG example 1) above, it will often ALSO be seen that bigger guns are drawn and fired after the same 48-72 hours delay - the team approach in play. This is especially true when the targeted truth seeker or their comments are considered more important with respect to potential to reveal truth. Thus, a serious truth sayer will be attacked twice for the same sin.
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How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
One way to neutralize a potential activist is to get them to be in a group that does all the wrong things. Why?
1) The message doesn't get out.
2) A lot of time is wasted
3) The activist is frustrated and discouraged
4) Nothing good is accomplished.
FBI and Police Informers and Infiltrators will infest any group and they have phoney activist organizations established.
Their purpose is to prevent any real movement for justice or eco-peace from developing in this country.
Agents come in small, medium or large. They can be of any ethnic background. They can be male or female.
The actual size of the group or movement being infiltrated is irrelevant. It is the potential the movement has for becoming large which brings on the spies and saboteurs.
This booklet lists tactics agents use to slow things down, foul things up, destroy the movement and keep tabs on activists.
It is the agent's job to keep the activist from quitting such a group, thus keeping him/her under control.
In some situations, to get control, the agent will tell the activist:

• "You're dividing the movement."

[Here, I have added the psychological reasons as to WHY this maneuver works to control people]
This invites guilty feelings. Many people can be controlled by guilt. The agents begin relationships with activists behind a well-developed mask of "dedication to the cause." Because of their often declared dedication, (and actions designed to prove this), when they criticize the activist, he or she - being truly dedicated to the movement - becomes convinced that somehow, any issues are THEIR fault. This is because a truly dedicated person tends to believe that everyone has a conscience and that nobody would dissimulate and lie like that "on purpose." It's amazing how far agents can go in manipulating an activist because the activist will constantly make excuses for the agent who regularly declares their dedication to the cause. Even if they do, occasionally, suspect the agent, they will pull the wool over their own eyes by rationalizing: "they did that unconsciously... they didn't really mean it... I can help them by being forgiving and accepting " and so on and so forth.
The agent will tell the activist:

• "You're a leader!"

This is designed to enhance the activist's self-esteem. His or her narcissistic admiration of his/her own activist/altruistic intentions increase as he or she identifies with and consciously admires the altruistic declarations of the agent which are deliberately set up to mirror those of the activist.
This is "malignant pseudoidentification." It is the process by which the agent consciously imitates or simulates a certain behavior to foster the activist's identification with him/her, thus increasing the activist's vulnerability to exploitation. The agent will simulate the more subtle self-concepts of the activist.
Activists and those who have altruistic self-concepts are most vulnerable to malignant pseudoidentification especially during work with the agent when the interaction includes matter relating to their competency, autonomy, or knowledge.
The goal of the agent is to increase the activist's general empathy for the agent through pseudo-identification with the activist's self-concepts.
The most common example of this is the agent who will compliment the activist for his competency or knowledge or value to the movement. On a more subtle level, the agent will simulate affects and mannerisms of the activist which promotes identification via mirroring and feelings of "twinship". It is not unheard of for activists, enamored by the perceived helpfulness and competence of a good agent, to find themselves considering ethical violations and perhaps, even illegal behavior, in the service of their agent/handler.
The activist's "felt quality of perfection" [self-concept] is enhanced, and a strong empathic bond is developed with the agent through his/her imitation and simulation of the victim's own narcissistic investments. [self-concepts] That is, if the activist knows, deep inside, their own dedication to the cause, they will project that onto the agent who is "mirroring" them.
The activist will be deluded into thinking that the agent shares this feeling of identification and bonding. In an activist/social movement setting, the adversarial roles that activists naturally play vis a vis the establishment/government, fosters ongoing processes of intrapsychic splitting so that "twinship alliances" between activist and agent may render whole sectors or reality testing unavailable to the activist. They literally "lose touch with reality."
Activists who deny their own narcissistic investments [do not have a good idea of their own self-concepts and that they ARE concepts] and consciously perceive themselves (accurately, as it were) to be "helpers" endowed with a special amount of altruism are exceedingly vulnerable to the affective (emotional) simulation of the accomplished agent.
Empathy is fostered in the activist through the expression of quite visible affects. The presentation of tearfulness, sadness, longing, fear, remorse, and guilt, may induce in the helper-oriented activist a strong sense of compassion, while unconsciously enhancing the activist's narcissistic investment in self as the embodiment of goodness.
The agent's expresssion of such simulated affects may be quite compelling to the observer and difficult to distinguish from deep emotion.
It can usually be identified by two events, however:
First, the activist who has analyzed his/her own narcissistic roots and is aware of his/her own potential for being "emotionally hooked," will be able to remain cool and unaffected by such emotional outpourings by the agent.
As a result of this unaffected, cool, attitude, the Second event will occur: The agent will recompensate much too quickly following such an affective expression leaving the activist with the impression that "the play has ended, the curtain has fallen," and the imposture, for the moment, has finished. The agent will then move quickly to another activist/victim.
The fact is, the movement doesn't need leaders, it needs MOVERS. "Follow the leader" is a waste of time.
A good agent will want to meet as often as possible. He or she will talk a lot and say little. One can expect an onslaught of long, unresolved discussions.
Some agents take on a pushy, arrogant, or defensive manner:
1) To disrupt the agenda
2) To side-track the discussion
3) To interrupt repeatedly
4) To feign ignorance
5) To make an unfounded accusation against a person.
Calling someone a racist, for example. This tactic is used to discredit a person in the eyes of all other group members.
Saboteurs
Some saboteurs pretend to be activists. She or he will ....
1) Write encyclopedic flyers (in the present day, websites)
2) Print flyers in English only.
3) Have demonstrations in places where no one cares.
4) Solicit funding from rich people instead of grass roots support
5) Display banners with too many words that are confusing.
6) Confuse issues.
7) Make the wrong demands.
8) Compromise the goal.
9) Have endless discussions that waste everyone's time. The agent may accompany the endless discussions with drinking, pot smoking or other amusement to slow down the activist's work.
Provocateurs
1) Want to establish "leaders" to set them up for a fall in order to stop the movement.
2) Suggest doing foolish, illegal things to get the activists in trouble.
3) Encourage militancy.
4) Want to taunt the authorities.
5) Attempt to make the activist compromise their values.
6) Attempt to instigate violence. Activisim ought to always be non-violent.
7) Attempt to provoke revolt among people who are ill-prepared to deal with the reaction of the authorities to such violence.
Informants
1) Want everyone to sign up and sing in and sign everything.
2) Ask a lot of questions (gathering data).
3) Want to know what events the activist is planning to attend.
4) Attempt to make the activist defend him or herself to identify his or her beliefs, goals, and level of committment.
Recruiting
Legitimate activists do not subject people to hours of persuasive dialog. Their actions, beliefs, and goals speak for themselves.
Groups that DO recruit are missionaries, military, and fake political parties or movements set up by agents.
Surveillance
ALWAYS assume that you are under surveillance.
At this point, if you are NOT under surveillance, you are not a very good activist!
Scare Tactics
They use them.
Such tactics include slander, defamation, threats, getting close to disaffected or minimally committed fellow activists to persuade them (via psychological tactics described above) to turn against the movement and give false testimony against their former compatriots. They will plant illegal substances on the activist and set up an arrest; they will plant false information and set up "exposure," they will send incriminating letters [emails] in the name of the activist; and more; they will do whatever society will allow.
This booklet in no way covers all the ways agents use to sabotage the lives of sincere an dedicated activists.
If an agent is "exposed," he or she will be transferred or replaced.
COINTELPRO is still in operation today under a different code name. It is no longer placed on paper where it can be discovered through the freedom of information act.
The FBI counterintelligence program's stated purpose: To expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize individuals who the FBI categorize as opposed to the National Interests. "National Security" means the FBI's security from the people ever finding out the vicious things it does in violation of people's civil liberties.
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Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
Strong, credible allegations of high-level criminal activity can bring down a government. When the government lacks an effective, fact-based defense, other techniques must be employed. The success of these techniques depends heavily upon a cooperative, compliant press and a mere token opposition party.
1. Dummy up. If it's not reported, if it's not news, it didn't happen.
2. Wax indignant. This is also known as the "How dare you?" gambit.
3. Characterize the charges as "rumors" or, better yet, "wild rumors." If, in spite of the news blackout, the public is still able to learn about the suspicious facts, it can only be through "rumors." (If they tend to believe the "rumors" it must be because they are simply "paranoid" or "hysterical.")
4. Knock down straw men. Deal only with the weakest aspects of the weakest charges. Even better, create your own straw men. Make up wild rumors (or plant false stories) and give them lead play when you appear to debunk all the charges, real and fanciful alike.
5. Call the skeptics names like "conspiracy theorist," "nutcase," "ranter," "kook," "crackpot," and, of course, "rumor monger." Be sure, too, to use heavily loaded verbs and adjectives when characterizing their charges and defending the "more reasonable" government and its defenders. You must then carefully avoid fair and open debate with any of the people you have thus maligned. For insurance, set up your own "skeptics" to shoot down.
6. Impugn motives. Attempt to marginalize the critics by suggesting strongly that they are not really interested in the truth but are simply pursuing a partisan political agenda or are out to make money (compared to over-compensated adherents to the government line who, presumably, are not).
7. Invoke authority. Here the controlled press and the sham opposition can be very useful.
8. Dismiss the charges as "old news."
9. Come half-clean. This is also known as "confession and avoidance" or "taking the limited hangout route." This way, you create the impression of candor and honesty while you admit only to relatively harmless, less-than-criminal "mistakes." This stratagem often requires the embrace of a fall-back position quite different from the one originally taken. With effective damage control, the fall-back position need only be peddled by stooge skeptics to carefully limited markets.
10. Characterize the crimes as impossibly complex and the truth as ultimately unknowable.
11. Reason backward, using the deductive method with a vengeance. With thoroughly rigorous deduction, troublesome evidence is irrelevant. E.g. We have a completely free press. If evidence exists that the Vince Foster "suicide" note was forged, they would have reported it. They haven't reported it so there is no such evidence. Another variation on this theme involves the likelihood of a conspiracy leaker and a press who would report the leak.
12. Require the skeptics to solve the crime completely. E.g. If Foster was murdered, who did it and why?
13. Change the subject. This technique includes creating and/or publicizing distractions.
14. Lightly report incriminating facts, and then make nothing of them. This is sometimes referred to as "bump and run" reporting.
15. Baldly and brazenly lie. A favorite way of doing this is to attribute the "facts" furnished the public to a plausible-sounding, but anonymous, source.
16. Expanding further on numbers 4 and 5, have your own stooges "expose" scandals and champion popular causes. Their job is to pre-empt real opponents and to play 99-yard football. A variation is to pay rich people for the job who will pretend to spend their own money.
17. Flood the Internet with agents. This is the answer to the question, "What could possibly motivate a person to spend hour upon hour on Internet news groups defending the government and/or the press and harassing genuine critics?" Don t the authorities have defenders enough in all the newspapers, magazines, radio, and television? One would think refusing to print critical letters and screening out serious callers or dumping them from radio talk shows would be control enough, but, obviously, it is not.

I’ve had countless failures in the past couple years, messed up relationships, and now I am completely lost. I have responsibilities to pay for things and live a normal life but I feel at any second I could have a mental breakdown and run away from it all. Although I don’t know what that would do except make things worse. I quit wrestling in hs, I took my football career of 9 years into college but quit that,I got my realtors license in Wisconsin but quit that, I tried to join the army but failed due to the size of my lungs, then I moved back home to AZ and tried very hard to find a job. Got one at a kitchen, hated it, quit. Got a job picking up apartment trash pickup , of course I hated it cuz it was trash-y, I had to walk 50+ flights of stairs and pick up people’s disgusting stuff. Did it for three weeks then quit right as I got a new job. Been at this job for 2 months. The newest one is Sales and security in the airport. I work for a company called clear which has this service that they open up a separate line from general or tsa pre check, when people go down that lane we sign them in then walk them to the front of their appropriate line. I hate the airport environment and I hate how the floor at the phx airport sits at and angle and feels terrible to stand on. I also hate that I have to dance around the truth or blatantly lie to get a lot of sales. Very few people can truthfully sell some product, especially if they don’t look like a super model. Which makes me think about my health. I have pains in my body like a 80 year old man but I’m only 19. I do my physical therapy and do hot yoga with my mother 2x a month. Its our little thing we just started so that should be good for my health. I used to live to work out when I was training to play NCAA Football but now I don’t go near a gym. Still my brain tells me I’m not good enough and I instead work out at home in the living room but only when no one is home. I hate it all. I have no friends within 25 miles of me. I have no family to hang out with. All I have is some friends on my games but I always feel like a loser when I play video games. Even if I only play for 2 hours a week( but sometimes it is more like 20 hours a week lol). I also feel that isn’t healthy. I try to eat healthy and feel like I generally eat well. I’m 6’4 215 or so and don’t feel extremely fat but also don’t feel skinny. More of a skinny fat with lack of muscle. I lack confidence, a sense of belonging, passion, or motivation. I’m on some shitty dating apps and girls will text me but I feel like I’m so insignificant why even bother. I don’t know what to do and I don’t know where to go. I wish I could run away and be with nature and eat real food and work out all day with my friends but of course how can I make money doing that and I barely have 5k to my name and I’m expected to pay 10k by the end of the year for rent and all these things. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. Oh and above it all I hate where I am. I’m in Scottsdale Arizona. The capitol of douchebaggery and old people. It’s like parts of Florida but dry and in a damn dessert. I want to be with trees and fresh air and water and I want to work in a environment that supports me , I want to help people, I want friends, I wanna look great. I don’t know. Any ideas?

Hellooooooo. I'm not out yet to my family but I want to come out soon. At the moment I'm very apprehensive about it since it's FLORIDA (also my family... very iffy)and I have no idea if I would be able to go on hrt and stuff like that. Which I really want to. I feel really hopeless about all this since I have no friends so no support system or anyone to help. Any advice would be appreciated

Hellooooooo. I'm not out yet to my family but I want to come out soon. At the moment I'm very apprehensive about it since it's FLORIDA (also my family... very iffy)and I have no idea if I would be able to go on hrt and stuff like that. Which I really want to. I feel really hopeless about all this since I have no friends so no support system or anyone to help. Any advice would be appreciated

Hellooooooo. I'm not out yet to my family but I want to come out soon. At the moment I'm very apprehensive about it since it's FLORIDA (also my family... very iffy)and I have no idea if I would be able to go on hrt and stuff like that. Which I really want to. I feel really hopeless about all this since I have no friends so no support system or anyone to help. Any advice would be appreciated

Three New Terrifying True Scary Tales
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Number One: The Pool
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Now, this happened a very long time ago. I am not going to mention when or where though and I am submitting it anonymously. I don’t want people going back and finding out more about it and then lashing out of me.
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I was 13 years old and my brother was 11. As I mentioned, this happened a long time ago and I think today, not a lot of parents would put a 13 year old in charge of an 11 year old. But this was not unusual at all back then. In fact, I was looking after my little brother all the time before either of us even hit 10 years old.
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After a while, of course, always keeping my eye on him began to get very annoying. It interfered with my hanging out with friends. It was quite a drag when I would try to talk to girls. It was just a pain in the ass, really.
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Anyway, one day during a really hot summer, our parents decided to drop us both off at the local swimming pool for the day. My dad had to work and my mom had errands and stuff to run plus work do to do for the church. It was so hot and there was no way we could afford air conditioning. We had one old fan in the house and a sprinkler in the yard that we could go play in. But the swimming pool was the much better option.
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Of course the pool was very crowded. Lots of families would drop their kids off there during the summertime. And of course, even though I knew it already, my mom stressed to me, “Keep an eye on your little brother at all times.”
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Some of my friends were at the pool too. I got to talking to them and they told me about this new girl who moved into town. She would be starting school that fall and supposedly she was really hot. So of course, I wanted to check her out. I knew the lifeguards would be watching my brother in the water, so he would be fine.
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I went with the guys and the girl was really cute. My buddies all dared me to approach her, which was admittedly a brave thing for a 13 year old boy to do. Of course, I couldn’t chicken out in front of them, so I did just that.
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She was a very sweet girl. We actually ended up talking for a little while. Her parents were at the pool though, and they called her back after too long. So I went back to the water to see how my little brother was doing.
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The only problem was that I couldn’t see him anywhere in the water. This was a small town in a rural area, so although I said the pool was crowded, it wasn’t like a water park is crowded though. I should have easily been able to pick him out of the water. He just wasn’t there.
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I went and searched around the area surrounding the pool and didn’t see him there either. My heart started beating faster and I began panicking. I went to the building where the showers and concession stand were. He wasn’t there either. You couldn’t leave that pool without going through that building, though. I asked the attendant if a 11 year old boy had left the pool on his own in the previous hour and he told me no.
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I then went to the lifeguards and my buddies. I thought maybe there was a chance that I had missed him. It’s easy to occasionally miss someone in a crowd. The lifeguards ordered everyone out of the pool. Fortunately, there were no drowned children in the pool. Unfortunately, my brother was nowhere to be found outside of the pool.
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The lifeguards had to call my mother at the church. I had never before lost track of my little brother like this before. I had no idea what to expect when she showed up. I was only thankful that the police were already at the pool or she probably would have whipped my ass right there in front of the entire pool.
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The trouble I got into at home isn’t something that I want to go into very much. My butt very much has PTSD from the experience. But that was minor compared to the fear I felt for my little brother. Hell, I didn’t even have time to feel guilty although that I knew that I was. I was only concerned for him and wondered what would happen.
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All day and night, I expected the police to bring him home. But that didn’t happen. I expected it the next day too. But it didn’t happen.
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The town organized a search to look for him. I kept expecting to hear from them that they had found him. But that didn’t happen either.
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After about a week of my brother not being found, I began fearing for the worst. I began thinking that he was dead. And I was terrified every waking moment of my life, expecting to absolutely hear the news that his dead body was found.
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Nearly two weeks after the disappearance, we got a phone call from the police. They had found my brother and thankfully, he was alive. But unfortunately, that’s not the whole story.
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Remember the attendant telling me that no boy had left on his own? Well that’s because the boy left with one of the lifeguards who was getting off duty. He had lured my brother out of the pool and into his car with promises of ice cream, something he and I rarely ever got. And my brother went to his house with him.
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For all of that time, he kept my little brother locked up in his basement. He didn’t do anything sexually to him, thank God. But there was a lot of mental and some physical torment when my brother wouldn’t do what he was told to you. But the scariest part for him was thinking he would never get out and be with his family again.
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Here is another weird part. The lifeguard wasn’t an adult. He did this while his parents were out of town for a few weeks. They came back early and caught him. And if you think I felt bad for my parents’ punishing me, what they did to him had to be legendary. The police thought he was either planning on killing or releasing my brother before his parents got home. But no one ever knew for sure.
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He had to live with it without much help for a long time. Mental health assistance had a very bad stigma back then. But we’re both still alive today and he forgave me a long time ago.
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Number Two: Taking the Garbage Out
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A few weeks ago I went outside at around 3am to move the garbage to the curb since pickup would be in the morning. I often do this in the middle of the night. I just tend to keep weird hours and as the weather warms up for the summer I find the warm nights preferable to the sweltering days.
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I’m not worried about bothering my neighbors since I don’t use noisy bins and all of the houses right next to me are currently empty. I actually find the quiet of the neighborhood at night quite relaxing.
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Unfortunately since I don’t use bins animals are able to get into the bags a bit easier and while this doesn’t happen often it had happened on this night. So I was outside picking up the strewn around garbage and putting it into another bag when the silence of the night was suddenly broken by multiple police sirens.
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At first they seemed distant and while they startled me it was not at all unheard of to hear sirens at night here. But usually it would be one in the distance. As I listened, still bagging the garbage, I could tell it was multiple sirens and they were getting closer. Then just as suddenly as it started it stopped again. There was just silence. By the time they stopped they sounded maybe four blocks away.
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For a moment the night was silent again and I began hauling the bags to the curb when the neighborhood dogs began barking all at once. It was like every dog in the neighborhood had gotten the cue to start barking. Many were even howling. It continued for maybe a minute and once again it just stopped as suddenly as it had started.
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I realized I hadn’t heard any barking or howling while the sirens were going and that’s normally how it would work. These dogs had started up separately from the sirens and just stopped all at once. It just wasn’t normal. I went back to the side of the house to grab more bags when the silence was broken a third time. 

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Just a single chime in the night. Like someone getting a phone notification. This sound wasn’t blocks away. This sound was here. RIGHT HERE. No more than feet away. As I said, the houses around me are empty.
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I was done. The rest of the garbage would wait until morning. I didn’t see anyone close by but that just made it worse. There was someone close by that I couldn’t see. I immediately went into the house to leave the garbage for the morning.
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I don’t know if these things were related. If the cops had been chasing someone who’s fleeing had caused the dogs to bark. Someone who received a message on their phone as they approached my house. Or if it was all just a coincidence. But I won’t be taking the garbage out at 3am anymore.
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A Commuter’s Nightmare
William M.
06/30/2021
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Back in the 80s, I worked at the Irwin Memorial Blood Bank in San Francisco while living and commuting from Oakland, CA
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My job as Registrar, took me all over Northern California, during Blood Drives at hospitals, clinics, major corporations, etc., where we would sometimes witness firsthand, the dead, being placed on gurneys, running out of the Coroner's or Medical Examiner’s rear doors, and down the sidewalks, because they simply didn’t have enough room or staff inside the morgues to process them. Mortuaries were having problems too due to the massive overload where deceased loved ones were admitted but not processed or interred for months or even years at a time.
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I remember watching the News and reading newspaper accounts of E.R.s in hospitals, clinics, etc. so clogged with patients, that 1 in 10 would die waiting to just get in to see a Dr. It was a Public Health and Safety nightmare. It was a National disgrace. It was politically orchestrated mass murder. It was the B purge of the ‘80s and ‘90s.
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I remember, starting work early on one of many Blood Drives (the A.I.D.S. epidemic was just getting started) and having to catch the first B.A.R.T. (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train out of the station at about 4:00 am, where morning after morning I would witness hundreds of people sleeping on the benches, or the sidewalks, or on the streets outside, waiting for it to open.
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Hundreds of others would be seen walking around like zombies in the early morning freeze amid the concomitant yelling, screaming, moaning, begging, and pleading, all of it looking like a newsreel of the death camps at Auschwitz-Birkenau.
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Many times, I was woken at home in the middle of the night, to the sounds of people howling and cursing outside my window at some real or imagined threat, until either the police came, which usually took hours because they were spread so thin, or some tenant, or other, ran them off.
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I remember the time I woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice begging in the early morning cold for someone to help her. She kept repeating it over and over growing weaker and weaker until it was little more than a whisper.
By the time I’d gotten up, armed myself with the steel-reinforced baton I’d purchased at a Police Supply store, and ran the 5 floors down to the ground floor, I found her sitting in a taxi shivering from the 42-degree drizzle coming in off the Pacific. The cabbie told me it was alright; she was just cold and needed someplace to rest and warm up; He’d drop her off at one of the nearby shelters.
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At the time, I was living in a local Residence Hall on Lake Merrit in Oakland, California which was little more than a converted Hotel from the San Francisco/Oakland Gilded Age of the late 1920s. It had 5 floors and a penthouse with a capacity of about 200. I never saw it get much beyond about 30 residents. It sported a full kitchen, dining area, big screen tv viewing room, swimming pool, and a recreation room with pool, foosball, and darts.
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I lived with a friend, at the time, on the 5th floor just under the penthouse. There was an elevator, but like most refurbs, it didn’t work. That meant we'd have to climb 10 flights of stairs every day to reach our room. The best part was that we had the entire floor to ourselves. I guess nobody wanted to climb that many stairs. Because we were both runners, it was a little like running the 900 feet to the top of Angel Island, running across The Golden Gate Bridge and back, or running the 3.4 miles around Lake Merrit twice a day.
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Because there was no air-conditioning, all the windows were left open during the summer months, but along with whatever cool air the San Francisco/Oakland Bay would bring through the gaping nearly wall-length vault ceilinged windows, it was always accompanied by the teeming, screaming City of Oakland street din: cabbies, buses, cars, trucks, vans, motorcycles, scooters, police sirens, ambulance, fire department, pedestrians, hustlers, druggies, break-dancers, prostitutes the homeless, et al. Day or night, winter or summer, it was like living in a jet engine test lab, somewhere on the 9th level of hell.
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Of course, we could always close the windows against the noise 5 stories below. But if it was summer, with all the humidity coming off the bay, we’d roast like 2 suckling pigs in our own sweat even if we used a fan.
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One night after a particularly grueling day at work, I came home, climbed Mount Everest (or at least K-2) to my steaming little abattoir, tore off my sports jacket, shirt, and tie, and fell into a coma-like sleep only to awake some 4 hours later to the sound of someone slamming a door, over and over, seemingly as hard as they could. It was about 2:00 am and raining so hard the water was pouring through the open window and flooding the floor and carpet. The sound was coming somewhere down the hall from one of the other units.
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After about the 15th or 16th slam to my inner ear, I was up, as in a trance, running like a lunatic from unit to unit and window to window, covering the entire southside of the 5th floor; battening down the hatches, and getting drenched in the process. It was, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating. I was supposed to get up in 2 hours and commute to work in the upper peninsula.
Having unconsciously completed this Sisyphean task and realizing that there was zero chance of getting any sleep, I donned my foul weather gear, equipped my trusty baton (I used to tuck its 2 ½-foot length up my sleeve when running), and headed out the front door to Lake Merrit which was just outside the main entrance. From there, I trotted to the sidewalk circling the lake, and began to run.
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As I ran counterclockwise against a torrential rain with a gale-force wind broken only by the occasional intermittent rainbow-hued lightning flashes which blinded me to almost everything around me, I almost ran into someone up ahead who was walking in the same direction.
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He was hunched over against the wind and rain and wearing a long heavy winter coat. Unusual for that time of year, I thought. Whenever I would run in public, I always made it a courtesy to let people know when I was approaching especially from behind. I’d blurt out a perfunctory:
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“Excuse me.” Followed by a conciliatory:
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“Sorry.”
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But apparently, the person ahead either didn’t hear me or didn’t care because, when I was about 6 feet from him, he suddenly turned around, exposing a darkened contorted face, jagged teeth, and a guttural growl that would have stopped a charging 600-pound Grizzly.
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The sheer force of the malevolence emitted from this inhuman thing almost made me stop, but because I was moving so fast, the inertia along with the gale force wind and lightning strikes propelled me past him (or it), and fingering my steel-reinforced baton, I, in turn, steeled my nerve and kept running. I looked back only once to reassure myself that he (or it) wasn’t following.
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Running on the leeward side now, with the rain at my back, I ran past a group of men in a circle smoking or drinking or doing whatever noxious or illicit thing I imagined, when, feeling charged with my own adrenalin, or the anger and resentment at that woman’s searing pleas for help, or the spook I’d almost run into, or just the gross injustices thrust upon the world in that dank, dark and dangerous time, I almost stopped, baton in hand, intending to take on the whole group: I may go down, I told myself, but at least I would take one or two with me.
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Just then, the lightning struck particularly close to where I and they stood and the sheer blinding flash and concussive boom shook all of us enough to break up their conspiratorial collaboration and my righteous crusade; just enough, that is, to shove me headlong around the next bend, to the long straight full out dash to the front doors, the 5 floors, 10 landings, and 50 risers to rain-sodden home.
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To get to work every day, I'd have to commute to the upper peninsula by using 3 buses, 1 train, and 1 cab and after a 10 or 12 or sometimes 14-hour day, I would have to take the same to get back. This meant that if I didn’t go out, make dinner, eat, or watch tv, I just might get about 4 hours sleep. Commuting took between 2 to 3 hours, one way.
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Once on the way home, almost every stop was crowded with commuters. I was told that it was because there were so many buses down for repair. The ones still running were so filled beyond capacity, that the shocks and springs were sitting on the chassis, and stop after stop proved nearly impossible to take on any more passengers. Still, and despite the few getting out at every stop, the driver would take on even more and just pack them in.
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I remember him yelling for people to get back behind the yellow line over and over. By then, he was long past any semblance of reason; his patience frayed to a single maniacal thought, his voice raspier and raspier, his manner, more and more brusk.
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I can still see when he finally lost it; jumping up, out of his seat, with a nickel-plated 38 Caliber Revolver pointing at one of the passengers; an elderly woman, screaming from the top of his lungs:
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“Get back behind the yellow line!”
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I can still hear the woman begging the driver:
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“Please...” while the passengers behind were practically trampling each other to get out of the line of fire.
I remember the sad, exhausted urgency in her voice; she really was trying to move back, but how could she, an old woman, do that with all those people blocking her way? Everyone knew this was an impossible task; everyone except the maddened driver. He just kept glaring, and bellowing with his gun out pointed right at her and the other passengers.
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"Back up and make room" he yelled.
​
‘Or else what?’ I thought. ‘You're gonna kill an old woman?'
​
Getting up out of my seat, pushing my way through the throng who were pushing against me to get away, I managed to get within about 6 feet from the front when, roaring through the din and my fear and anger, I ordered the bus driver to:
​
“Put the gun down!” And again, with even more rage and authority:
“Put the gun down, now!”
​
The bus driver shocked that it might be a cop, or worse, shakily, put his gun back in his concealed carry holster and hypnotically sat back down. He resumed driving without saying another word. I got out at the next stop, along with the elderly woman. She was so shaken, that she busted out crying. I held her still fuming despite the close call because I would now have to wait for another bus and after that, 2 more; the train and a cab to get home. I wasn’t going to make it until well after 8:00 pm. As soon as I got home, I reported the bus number and the driver to Muni.
​
Many of the commuters I'd see day to day, or share a seat with were victims of the purge just trying to get out of the rain or the cold, or the wind, or the sun, even for just a little while. For them, it was easing the agony of living on the street, even just a little. For many of us regular commuters, during those dark times, it proved to be the same.
​
On one of the final buses that would take me to the train and across the bay, I remember standing, with about 50 others, on Market Street waiting. Like ours, stop after stop was so packed with people, some were standing in the street because there was simply not enough room on the sidewalk. The ones in the street would stay where they were for fear of losing their place and missing their connection and having to wait another hour, or more, to catch another.
​
Because the rapidly descending elevation of the southbound streets ending at Market Street from the upper peninsula were so steep and the transverse angle of the turn so sharp, some of the buses would skirt the edge of the curb, sometimes rolling up over it onto the sidewalk putting them dangerously close to the commuters waiting on the other side.
​
If there were any people in the street, especially the old or the infirm, they would either have to get out of the way and lose their place in line or hope the bus driver stopped before completing the turn. Most of the drivers would. Once there was one who didn’t.
​
I remember the television and newspaper account about an elderly woman waiting at one of the stops during the pm rush hour. When the bus made the oblique turn way too fast at 25 miles per hour she was either too close to the edge or standing in the street when she was hit by the side view mirror across the face and the left side of her head.
​
She went down under the wheels and her body got hung up under the chassis. The bus driver too full of passengers to stop, or late for his break, or just too coked up to notice, kept on heading for the Embarcadero before he realized something was wrong. By then, the woman had been dragged over a quarter of a mile. No one knew for sure whether the concussion from the mirror or the relentless dragging was the cause of death. I guess it didn’t matter to her anymore, one way or the other. It mattered to a lot of those who witnessed the whole thing though; screaming and yelling, block after block, trying to get the bus driver to stop.
​
To get across the Bay to San Francisco from Oakland or back, one alternative to the nightmare bus commute was the B.A.R.T (Bay Area Rapid Transit). It was quiet, clean, air-conditioned, and fast. Traveling under the Bay, it could span the 13 miles in minutes. Once I’d reach the train station, by bus, from the Oakland side, I’d descend one of the many street-level entries to the below-ground turnstiles which led to the train platform. Of course, there were always hundreds of derelicts, homeless, hustlers, etc., hanging out by the turnstiles waiting for their chance to slip through and get on any one of the many trains that serviced the Bay Area, but sometimes, especially after a scuffle with B.A.R.T. Security or the San Francisco/Oakland Police, they’d scatter to the winds (or the shadows as it were) until everything calmed down and then they'd be back at it again, day and night.
​
Almost every week I'd hear about someone falling, or being pushed, or jumping down onto the third rail, which would either short-circuit the line and knock out the power or if it was particularly grisly, halt service entirely. Because service resumption could take hours, waiting passengers would have to go back up and out onto the street and catch another train, take a cab or a bus or just walk or, as was often the case for me, run.
​
Once, I remember running to the next stop when I was ascending to the upper peninsula because the previous connection didn’t show up which meant it would have added another 45 minutes to my commute. The choice was obvious and inevitable: I could either
“wait to be late” or go for it. I chose the latter.
​
You just can't imagine what it’s like to run at a 20-degree angle uphill for about 2 miles while wearing dress slacks, dress shoes, a white shirt and tie, and a sports jacket, in San Francisco, during the summer, with the humidity until you’ve tried it. It’s, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating.
​
Running, I came upon a stand-alone, transmission shop, right in the middle of a residential area. The owners must have paid a pretty penny to get away with that one. There were police cars, the fire department, a metro ambulance, the San Francisco Chronicle, and a marked County Coroner’s Office vehicle scattered around the shop.
Some people along with some of the employees: their first names embroidered on their shirts, were standing on the sidewalk just outside the property watching. They’d been there for about an hour when I stopped to ask one of them (Bob) what happened.
​
Wearily he said:
​
“The girl who worked in the office answering the phone and typing up orders was shot to death by her boyfriend. The boyfriend got away but she was still down there being processed. God, she was only 24 years old. They’ll catch him, though. He hasn’t got a chance.”
​
'Nope,' I thought.
'In this town, I don’t expect he would.'
​
I was late again when I got home. Vaulting the 5 floors to reach our loft, I held my friend close, the entire night. She was ok with that. So was I.=

Reposting this, long read but relevant for the coming attacks
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1. COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum
2. Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
3. Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
4. How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
5. Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression

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COINTELPRO Techniques for dilution, misdirection and control of a internet forum..
There are several techniques for the control and manipulation of a internet forum no matter what, or who is on it. We will go over each technique and demonstrate that only a minimal number of operatives can be used to eventually and effectively gain a control of a 'uncontrolled forum.'
Technique #1 - 'FORUM SLIDING'
If a very sensitive posting of a critical nature has been posted on a forum - it can be quickly removed from public view by 'forum sliding.' In this technique a number of unrelated posts are quietly prepositioned on the forum and allowed to 'age.' Each of these misdirectional forum postings can then be called upon at will to trigger a 'forum slide.' The second requirement is that several fake accounts exist, which can be called upon, to ensure that this technique is not exposed to the public. To trigger a 'forum slide' and 'flush' the critical post out of public view it is simply a matter of logging into each account both real and fake and then 'replying' to prepositined postings with a simple 1 or 2 line comment. This brings the unrelated postings to the top of the forum list, and the critical posting 'slides' down the front page, and quickly out of public view. Although it is difficult or impossible to censor the posting it is now lost in a sea of unrelated and unuseful postings. By this means it becomes effective to keep the readers of the forum reading unrelated and non-issue items.
Technique #2 - 'CONSENSUS CRACKING'
A second highly effective technique (which you can see in operation all the time at www.abovetopsecret.com) is 'consensus cracking.' To develop a consensus crack, the following technique is used. Under the guise of a fake account a posting is made which looks legitimate and is towards the truth is made - but the critical point is that it has a VERY WEAK PREMISE without substantive proof to back the posting. Once this is done then under alternative fake accounts a very strong position in your favour is slowly introduced over the life of the posting. It is IMPERATIVE that both sides are initially presented, so the uninformed reader cannot determine which side is the truth. As postings and replies are made the stronger 'evidence' or disinformation in your favour is slowly 'seeded in.' Thus the uninformed reader will most like develop the same position as you, and if their position is against you their opposition to your posting will be most likely dropped. However in some cases where the forum members are highly educated and can counter your disinformation with real facts and linked postings, you can then 'abort' the consensus cracking by initiating a 'forum slide.'
Technique #3 - 'TOPIC DILUTION'
Topic dilution is not only effective in forum sliding it is also very useful in keeping the forum readers on unrelated and non-productive issues. This is a critical and useful technique to cause a 'RESOURCE BURN.' By implementing continual and non-related postings that distract and disrupt (trolling ) the forum readers they are more effectively stopped from anything of any real productivity. If the intensity of gradual dilution is intense enough, the readers will effectively stop researching and simply slip into a 'gossip mode.' In this state they can be more easily misdirected away from facts towards uninformed conjecture and opinion. The less informed they are the more effective and easy it becomes to control the entire group in the direction that you would desire the group to go in. It must be stressed that a proper assessment of the psychological capabilities and levels of education is first determined of the group to determine at what level to 'drive in the wedge.' By being too far off topic too quickly it may trigger censorship by a forum moderator.
Technique #4 - 'INFORMATION COLLECTION'
Information collection is also a very effective method to determine the psychological level of the forum members, and to gather intelligence that can be used against them. In this technique in a light and positive environment a 'show you mine so me yours' posting is initiated. From the number of replies and the answers that are provided much statistical information can be gathered. An example is to post your 'favourite weapon' and then encourage other members of the forum to showcase what they have. In this matter it can be determined by reverse proration what percentage of the forum community owns a firearm, and or a illegal weapon. This same method can be used by posing as one of the form members and posting your favourite 'technique of operation.' From the replies various methods that the group utilizes can be studied and effective methods developed to stop them from their activities.
Technique #5 - 'ANGER TROLLING'
Statistically, there is always a percentage of the forum posters who are more inclined to violence. In order to determine who these individuals are, it is a requirement to present a image to the forum to deliberately incite a strong psychological reaction. From this the most violent in the group can be effectively singled out for reverse IP location and possibly local enforcement tracking. To accomplish this only requires posting a link to a video depicting a local police officer massively abusing his power against a very innocent individual. Statistically of the million or so police officers in America there is always one or two being caught abusing there powers and the taping of the activity can be then used for intelligence gathering purposes - without the requirement to 'stage' a fake abuse video. This method is extremely effective, and the more so the more abusive the video can be made to look. Sometimes it is useful to 'lead' the forum by replying to your own posting with your own statement of violent intent, and that you 'do not care what the authorities think!!' inflammation. By doing this and showing no fear it may be more effective in getting the more silent and self-disciplined violent intent members of the forum to slip and post their real intentions. This can be used later in a court of law during prosecution.
Technique #6 - 'GAINING FULL CONTROL'
It is important to also be harvesting and continually maneuvering for a forum moderator position. Once this position is obtained, the forum can then be effectively and quietly controlled by deleting unfavourable postings - and one can eventually steer the forum into complete failure and lack of interest by the general public. This is the 'ultimate victory' as the forum is no longer participated with by the general public and no longer useful in maintaining their freedoms. Depending on the level of control you can obtain, you can deliberately steer a forum into defeat by censoring postings, deleting memberships, flooding, and or accidentally taking the forum offline. By this method the forum can be quickly killed. However it is not always in the interest to kill a forum as it can be converted into a 'honey pot' gathering center to collect and misdirect newcomers and from this point be completely used for your control for your agenda purposes.
CONCLUSION
Remember these techniques are only effective if the forum participants DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM. Once they are aware of these techniques the operation can completely fail, and the forum can become uncontrolled. At this point other avenues must be considered such as initiating a false legal precidence to simply have the forum shut down and taken offline. This is not desirable as it then leaves the enforcement agencies unable to track the percentage of those in the population who always resist attempts for control against them. Many other techniques can be utilized and developed by the individual and as you develop further techniques of infiltration and control it is imperative to share then with HQ.
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Twenty-Five Rules of Disinformation
Note: The first rule and last five (or six, depending on situation) rules are generally not directly within the ability of the traditional disinfo artist to apply. These rules are generally used more directly by those at the leadership, key players, or planning level of the criminal conspiracy or conspiracy to cover up.
1. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Regardless of what you know, don't discuss it -- especially if you are a public figure, news anchor, etc. If it's not reported, it didn't happen, and you never have to deal with the issues.
2. Become incredulous and indignant. Avoid discussing key issues and instead focus on side issues which can be used show the topic as being critical of some otherwise sacrosanct group or theme. This is also known as the 'How dare you!' gambit.
3. Create rumor mongers. Avoid discussing issues by describing all charges, regardless of venue or evidence, as mere rumors and wild accusations. Other derogatory terms mutually exclusive of truth may work as well. This method which works especially well with a silent press, because the only way the public can learn of the facts are through such 'arguable rumors'. If you can associate the material with the Internet, use this fact to certify it a 'wild rumor' from a 'bunch of kids on the Internet' which can have no basis in fact.
4. Use a straw man. Find or create a seeming element of your opponent's argument which you can easily knock down to make yourself look good and the opponent to look bad. Either make up an issue you may safely imply exists based on your interpretation of the opponent/opponent arguments/situation, or select the weakest aspect of the weakest charges. Amplify their significance and destroy them in a way which appears to debunk all the charges, real and fabricated alike, while actually avoiding discussion of the real issues.
5. Sidetrack opponents with name calling and ridicule. This is also known as the primary 'attack the messenger' ploy, though other methods qualify as variants of that approach. Associate opponents with unpopular titles such as 'kooks', 'right-wing', 'liberal', 'left-wing', 'terrorists', 'conspiracy buffs', 'radicals', 'militia', 'racists', 'religious fanatics', 'sexual deviates', and so forth. This makes others shrink from support out of fear of gaining the same label, and you avoid dealing with issues.
6. Hit and Run. In any public forum, make a brief attack of your opponent or the opponent position and then scamper off before an answer can be fielded, or simply ignore any answer. This works extremely well in Internet and letters-to-the-editor environments where a steady stream of new identities can be called upon without having to explain criticism, reasoning -- simply make an accusation or other attack, never discussing issues, and never answering any subsequent response, for that would dignify the opponent's viewpoint.
7. Question motives. Twist or amplify any fact which could be taken to imply that the opponent operates out of a hidden personal agenda or other bias. This avoids discussing issues and forces the accuser on the defensive.
8. Invoke authority. Claim for yourself or associate yourself with authority and present your argument with enough 'jargon' and 'minutia' to illustrate you are 'one who knows', and simply say it isn't so without discussing issues or demonstrating concretely why or citing sources.
9. Play Dumb. No matter what evidence or logical argument is offered, avoid discussing issues except with denials they have any credibility, make any sense, provide any proof, contain or make a point, have logic, or support a conclusion. Mix well for maximum effect.
10. Associate opponent charges with old news. A derivative of the straw man -- usually, in any large-scale matter of high visibility, someone will make charges early on which can be or were already easily dealt with - a kind of investment for the future should the matter not be so easily contained.) Where it can be foreseen, have your own side raise a straw man issue and have it dealt with early on as part of the initial contingency plans. Subsequent charges, regardless of validity or new ground uncovered, can usually then be associated with the original charge and dismissed as simply being a rehash without need to address current issues -- so much the better where the opponent is or was involved with the original source.
11. Establish and rely upon fall-back positions. Using a minor matter or element of the facts, take the 'high road' and 'confess' with candor that some innocent mistake, in hindsight, was made -- but that opponents have seized on the opportunity to blow it all out of proportion and imply greater criminalities which, 'just isn't so.' Others can reinforce this on your behalf, later, and even publicly 'call for an end to the nonsense' because you have already 'done the right thing.' Done properly, this can garner sympathy and respect for 'coming clean' and 'owning up' to your mistakes without addressing more serious issues.
12. Enigmas have no solution. Drawing upon the overall umbrella of events surrounding the crime and the multitude of players and events, paint the entire affair as too complex to solve. This causes those otherwise following the matter to begin to lose interest more quickly without having to address the actual issues.
13. Alice in Wonderland Logic. Avoid discussion of the issues by reasoning backwards or with an apparent deductive logic which forbears any actual material fact.
14. Demand complete solutions. Avoid the issues by requiring opponents to solve the crime at hand completely, a ploy which works best with issues qualifying for rule 10.
15. Fit the facts to alternate conclusions. This requires creative thinking unless the crime was planned with contingency conclusions in place.
16. Vanish evidence and witnesses. If it does not exist, it is not fact, and you won't have to address the issue.
17. Change the subject. Usually in connection with one of the other ploys listed here, find a way to side-track the discussion with abrasive or controversial comments in hopes of turning attention to a new, more manageable topic. This works especially well with companions who can 'argue' with you over the new topic and polarize the discussion arena in order to avoid discussing more key issues.
18. Emotionalize, Antagonize, and Goad Opponents. If you can't do anything else, chide and taunt your opponents and draw them into emotional responses which will tend to make them look foolish and overly motivated, and generally render their material somewhat less coherent. Not only will you avoid discussing the issues in the first instance, but even if their emotional response addresses the issue, you can further avoid the issues by then focusing on how 'sensitive they are to criticism.'
19. Ignore proof presented, demand impossible proofs. This is perhaps a variant of the 'play dumb' rule. Regardless of what material may be presented by an opponent in public forums, claim the material irrelevant and demand proof that is impossible for the opponent to come by (it may exist, but not be at his disposal, or it may be something which is known to be safely destroyed or withheld, such as a murder weapon.) In order to completely avoid discussing issues, it may be required that you to categorically deny and be critical of media or books as valid sources, deny that witnesses are acceptable, or even deny that statements made by government or other authorities have any meaning or relevance.
20. False evidence. Whenever possible, introduce new facts or clues designed and manufactured to conflict with opponent presentations -- as useful tools to neutralize sensitive issues or impede resolution. This works best when the crime was designed with contingencies for the purpose, and the facts cannot be easily separated from the fabrications.
21. Call a Grand Jury, Special Prosecutor, or other empowered investigative body. Subvert the (process) to your benefit and effectively neutralize all sensitive issues without open discussion. Once convened, the evidence and testimony are required to be secret when properly handled. For instance, if you own the prosecuting attorney, it can insure a Grand Jury hears no useful evidence and that the evidence is sealed and unavailable to subsequent investigators. Once a favorable verdict is achieved, the matter can be considered officially closed. Usually, this technique is applied to find the guilty innocent, but it can also be used to obtain charges when seeking to frame a victim.
22. Manufacture a new truth. Create your own expert(s), group(s), author(s), leader(s) or influence existing ones willing to forge new ground via scientific, investigative, or social research or testimony which concludes favorably. In this way, if you must actually address issues, you can do so authoritatively.
23. Create bigger distractions. If the above does not seem to be working to distract from sensitive issues, or to prevent unwanted media coverage of unstoppable events such as trials, create bigger news stories (or treat them as such) to distract the multitudes.
24. Silence critics. If the above methods do not prevail, consider removing opponents from circulation by some definitive solution so that the need to address issues is removed entirely. This can be by their death, arrest and detention, blackmail or destruction of their character by release of blackmail information, or merely by destroying them financially, emotionally, or severely damaging their health.
25. Vanish. If you are a key holder of secrets or otherwise overly illuminated and you think the heat is getting too hot, to avoid the issues, vacate the kitchen.
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Eight Traits of the Disinformationalist
1) Avoidance. They never actually discuss issues head-on or provide constructive input, generally avoiding citation of references or credentials. Rather, they merely imply this, that, and the other. Virtually everything about their presentation implies their authority and expert knowledge in the matter without any further justification for credibility.
2) Selectivity. They tend to pick and choose opponents carefully, either applying the hit-and-run approach against mere commentators supportive of opponents, or focusing heavier attacks on key opponents who are known to directly address issues. Should a commentator become argumentative with any success, the focus will shift to include the commentator as well.
3) Coincidental. They tend to surface suddenly and somewhat coincidentally with a new controversial topic with no clear prior record of participation in general discussions in the particular public arena involved. They likewise tend to vanish once the topic is no longer of general concern. They were likely directed or elected to be there for a reason, and vanish with the reason.
4) Teamwork. They tend to operate in self-congratulatory and complementary packs or teams. Of course, this can happen naturally in any public forum, but there will likely be an ongoing pattern of frequent exchanges of this sort where professionals are involved. Sometimes one of the players will infiltrate the opponent camp to become a source for straw man or other tactics designed to dilute opponent presentation strength.
5) Anti-conspiratorial. They almost always have disdain for 'conspiracy theorists' and, usually, for those who in any way believe JFK was not killed by LHO. Ask yourself why, if they hold such disdain for conspiracy theorists, do they focus on defending a single topic discussed in a NG focusing on conspiracies? One might think they would either be trying to make fools of everyone on every topic, or simply ignore the group they hold in such disdain.Or, one might more rightly conclude they have an ulterior motive for their actions in going out of their way to focus as they do.
6) Artificial Emotions. An odd kind of 'artificial' emotionalism and an unusually thick skin -- an ability to persevere and persist even in the face of overwhelming criticism and unacceptance. This likely stems from intelligence community training that, no matter how condemning the evidence, deny everything, and never become emotionally involved or reactive. The net result for a disinfo artist is that emotions can seem artificial.
Most people, if responding in anger, for instance, will express their animosity throughout their rebuttal. But disinfo types usually have trouble maintaining the 'image' and are hot and cold with respect to pretended emotions and their usually more calm or unemotional communications style. It's just a job, and they often seem unable to 'act their role in character' as well in a communications medium as they might be able in a real face-to-face conversation/confrontation. You might have outright rage and indignation one moment, ho-hum the next, and more anger later -- an emotional yo-yo.
With respect to being thick-skinned, no amount of criticism will deter them from doing their job, and they will generally continue their old disinfo patterns without any adjustments to criticisms of how obvious it is that they play that game -- where a more rational individual who truly cares what others think might seek to improve their communications style, substance, and so forth, or simply give up.
7) Inconsistent. There is also a tendency to make mistakes which betray their true self/motives. This may stem from not really knowing their topic, or it may be somewhat 'freudian', so to speak, in that perhaps they really root for the side of truth deep within.
I have noted that often, they will simply cite contradictory information which neutralizes itself and the author. For instance, one such player claimed to be a Navy pilot, but blamed his poor communicating skills (spelling, grammar, incoherent style) on having only a grade-school education. I'm not aware of too many Navy pilots who don't have a college degree. Another claimed no knowledge of a particular topic/situation but later claimed first-hand knowledge of it.
8) Time Constant. Recently discovered, with respect to News Groups, is the response time factor. There are three ways this can be seen to work, especially when the government or other empowered player is involved in a cover up operation:
a) ANY NG posting by a targeted proponent for truth can result in an IMMEDIATE response. The government and other empowered players can afford to pay people to sit there and watch for an opportunity to do some damage. SINCE DISINFO IN A NG ONLY WORKS IF THE READER SEES IT - FAST RESPONSE IS CALLED FOR, or the visitor may be swayed towards truth.
b) When dealing in more direct ways with a disinformationalist, such as email, DELAY IS CALLED FOR - there will usually be a minimum of a 48-72 hour delay. This allows a sit-down team discussion on response strategy for best effect, and even enough time to 'get permission' or instruction from a formal chain of command.
c) In the NG example 1) above, it will often ALSO be seen that bigger guns are drawn and fired after the same 48-72 hours delay - the team approach in play. This is especially true when the targeted truth seeker or their comments are considered more important with respect to potential to reveal truth. Thus, a serious truth sayer will be attacked twice for the same sin.
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How to Spot a Spy (Cointelpro Agent)
One way to neutralize a potential activist is to get them to be in a group that does all the wrong things. Why?
1) The message doesn't get out.
2) A lot of time is wasted
3) The activist is frustrated and discouraged
4) Nothing good is accomplished.
FBI and Police Informers and Infiltrators will infest any group and they have phoney activist organizations established.
Their purpose is to prevent any real movement for justice or eco-peace from developing in this country.
Agents come in small, medium or large. They can be of any ethnic background. They can be male or female.
The actual size of the group or movement being infiltrated is irrelevant. It is the potential the movement has for becoming large which brings on the spies and saboteurs.
This booklet lists tactics agents use to slow things down, foul things up, destroy the movement and keep tabs on activists.
It is the agent's job to keep the activist from quitting such a group, thus keeping him/her under control.
In some situations, to get control, the agent will tell the activist:

• "You're dividing the movement."

[Here, I have added the psychological reasons as to WHY this maneuver works to control people]
This invites guilty feelings. Many people can be controlled by guilt. The agents begin relationships with activists behind a well-developed mask of "dedication to the cause." Because of their often declared dedication, (and actions designed to prove this), when they criticize the activist, he or she - being truly dedicated to the movement - becomes convinced that somehow, any issues are THEIR fault. This is because a truly dedicated person tends to believe that everyone has a conscience and that nobody would dissimulate and lie like that "on purpose." It's amazing how far agents can go in manipulating an activist because the activist will constantly make excuses for the agent who regularly declares their dedication to the cause. Even if they do, occasionally, suspect the agent, they will pull the wool over their own eyes by rationalizing: "they did that unconsciously... they didn't really mean it... I can help them by being forgiving and accepting " and so on and so forth.
The agent will tell the activist:

• "You're a leader!"

This is designed to enhance the activist's self-esteem. His or her narcissistic admiration of his/her own activist/altruistic intentions increase as he or she identifies with and consciously admires the altruistic declarations of the agent which are deliberately set up to mirror those of the activist.
This is "malignant pseudoidentification." It is the process by which the agent consciously imitates or simulates a certain behavior to foster the activist's identification with him/her, thus increasing the activist's vulnerability to exploitation. The agent will simulate the more subtle self-concepts of the activist.
Activists and those who have altruistic self-concepts are most vulnerable to malignant pseudoidentification especially during work with the agent when the interaction includes matter relating to their competency, autonomy, or knowledge.
The goal of the agent is to increase the activist's general empathy for the agent through pseudo-identification with the activist's self-concepts.
The most common example of this is the agent who will compliment the activist for his competency or knowledge or value to the movement. On a more subtle level, the agent will simulate affects and mannerisms of the activist which promotes identification via mirroring and feelings of "twinship". It is not unheard of for activists, enamored by the perceived helpfulness and competence of a good agent, to find themselves considering ethical violations and perhaps, even illegal behavior, in the service of their agent/handler.
The activist's "felt quality of perfection" [self-concept] is enhanced, and a strong empathic bond is developed with the agent through his/her imitation and simulation of the victim's own narcissistic investments. [self-concepts] That is, if the activist knows, deep inside, their own dedication to the cause, they will project that onto the agent who is "mirroring" them.
The activist will be deluded into thinking that the agent shares this feeling of identification and bonding. In an activist/social movement setting, the adversarial roles that activists naturally play vis a vis the establishment/government, fosters ongoing processes of intrapsychic splitting so that "twinship alliances" between activist and agent may render whole sectors or reality testing unavailable to the activist. They literally "lose touch with reality."
Activists who deny their own narcissistic investments [do not have a good idea of their own self-concepts and that they ARE concepts] and consciously perceive themselves (accurately, as it were) to be "helpers" endowed with a special amount of altruism are exceedingly vulnerable to the affective (emotional) simulation of the accomplished agent.
Empathy is fostered in the activist through the expression of quite visible affects. The presentation of tearfulness, sadness, longing, fear, remorse, and guilt, may induce in the helper-oriented activist a strong sense of compassion, while unconsciously enhancing the activist's narcissistic investment in self as the embodiment of goodness.
The agent's expresssion of such simulated affects may be quite compelling to the observer and difficult to distinguish from deep emotion.
It can usually be identified by two events, however:
First, the activist who has analyzed his/her own narcissistic roots and is aware of his/her own potential for being "emotionally hooked," will be able to remain cool and unaffected by such emotional outpourings by the agent.
As a result of this unaffected, cool, attitude, the Second event will occur: The agent will recompensate much too quickly following such an affective expression leaving the activist with the impression that "the play has ended, the curtain has fallen," and the imposture, for the moment, has finished. The agent will then move quickly to another activist/victim.
The fact is, the movement doesn't need leaders, it needs MOVERS. "Follow the leader" is a waste of time.
A good agent will want to meet as often as possible. He or she will talk a lot and say little. One can expect an onslaught of long, unresolved discussions.
Some agents take on a pushy, arrogant, or defensive manner:
1) To disrupt the agenda
2) To side-track the discussion
3) To interrupt repeatedly
4) To feign ignorance
5) To make an unfounded accusation against a person.
Calling someone a racist, for example. This tactic is used to discredit a person in the eyes of all other group members.
Saboteurs
Some saboteurs pretend to be activists. She or he will ....
1) Write encyclopedic flyers (in the present day, websites)
2) Print flyers in English only.
3) Have demonstrations in places where no one cares.
4) Solicit funding from rich people instead of grass roots support
5) Display banners with too many words that are confusing.
6) Confuse issues.
7) Make the wrong demands.
8) Compromise the goal.
9) Have endless discussions that waste everyone's time. The agent may accompany the endless discussions with drinking, pot smoking or other amusement to slow down the activist's work.
Provocateurs
1) Want to establish "leaders" to set them up for a fall in order to stop the movement.
2) Suggest doing foolish, illegal things to get the activists in trouble.
3) Encourage militancy.
4) Want to taunt the authorities.
5) Attempt to make the activist compromise their values.
6) Attempt to instigate violence. Activisim ought to always be non-violent.
7) Attempt to provoke revolt among people who are ill-prepared to deal with the reaction of the authorities to such violence.
Informants
1) Want everyone to sign up and sing in and sign everything.
2) Ask a lot of questions (gathering data).
3) Want to know what events the activist is planning to attend.
4) Attempt to make the activist defend him or herself to identify his or her beliefs, goals, and level of committment.
Recruiting
Legitimate activists do not subject people to hours of persuasive dialog. Their actions, beliefs, and goals speak for themselves.
Groups that DO recruit are missionaries, military, and fake political parties or movements set up by agents.
Surveillance
ALWAYS assume that you are under surveillance.
At this point, if you are NOT under surveillance, you are not a very good activist!
Scare Tactics
They use them.
Such tactics include slander, defamation, threats, getting close to disaffected or minimally committed fellow activists to persuade them (via psychological tactics described above) to turn against the movement and give false testimony against their former compatriots. They will plant illegal substances on the activist and set up an arrest; they will plant false information and set up "exposure," they will send incriminating letters [emails] in the name of the activist; and more; they will do whatever society will allow.
This booklet in no way covers all the ways agents use to sabotage the lives of sincere an dedicated activists.
If an agent is "exposed," he or she will be transferred or replaced.
COINTELPRO is still in operation today under a different code name. It is no longer placed on paper where it can be discovered through the freedom of information act.
The FBI counterintelligence program's stated purpose: To expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize individuals who the FBI categorize as opposed to the National Interests. "National Security" means the FBI's security from the people ever finding out the vicious things it does in violation of people's civil liberties.
_______________________________________________________________________
Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression
Strong, credible allegations of high-level criminal activity can bring down a government. When the government lacks an effective, fact-based defense, other techniques must be employed. The success of these techniques depends heavily upon a cooperative, compliant press and a mere token opposition party.
1. Dummy up. If it's not reported, if it's not news, it didn't happen.
2. Wax indignant. This is also known as the "How dare you?" gambit.
3. Characterize the charges as "rumors" or, better yet, "wild rumors." If, in spite of the news blackout, the public is still able to learn about the suspicious facts, it can only be through "rumors." (If they tend to believe the "rumors" it must be because they are simply "paranoid" or "hysterical.")
4. Knock down straw men. Deal only with the weakest aspects of the weakest charges. Even better, create your own straw men. Make up wild rumors (or plant false stories) and give them lead play when you appear to debunk all the charges, real and fanciful alike.
5. Call the skeptics names like "conspiracy theorist," "nutcase," "ranter," "kook," "crackpot," and, of course, "rumor monger." Be sure, too, to use heavily loaded verbs and adjectives when characterizing their charges and defending the "more reasonable" government and its defenders. You must then carefully avoid fair and open debate with any of the people you have thus maligned. For insurance, set up your own "skeptics" to shoot down.
6. Impugn motives. Attempt to marginalize the critics by suggesting strongly that they are not really interested in the truth but are simply pursuing a partisan political agenda or are out to make money (compared to over-compensated adherents to the government line who, presumably, are not).
7. Invoke authority. Here the controlled press and the sham opposition can be very useful.
8. Dismiss the charges as "old news."
9. Come half-clean. This is also known as "confession and avoidance" or "taking the limited hangout route." This way, you create the impression of candor and honesty while you admit only to relatively harmless, less-than-criminal "mistakes." This stratagem often requires the embrace of a fall-back position quite different from the one originally taken. With effective damage control, the fall-back position need only be peddled by stooge skeptics to carefully limited markets.
10. Characterize the crimes as impossibly complex and the truth as ultimately unknowable.
11. Reason backward, using the deductive method with a vengeance. With thoroughly rigorous deduction, troublesome evidence is irrelevant. E.g. We have a completely free press. If evidence exists that the Vince Foster "suicide" note was forged, they would have reported it. They haven't reported it so there is no such evidence. Another variation on this theme involves the likelihood of a conspiracy leaker and a press who would report the leak.
12. Require the skeptics to solve the crime completely. E.g. If Foster was murdered, who did it and why?
13. Change the subject. This technique includes creating and/or publicizing distractions.
14. Lightly report incriminating facts, and then make nothing of them. This is sometimes referred to as "bump and run" reporting.
15. Baldly and brazenly lie. A favorite way of doing this is to attribute the "facts" furnished the public to a plausible-sounding, but anonymous, source.
16. Expanding further on numbers 4 and 5, have your own stooges "expose" scandals and champion popular causes. Their job is to pre-empt real opponents and to play 99-yard football. A variation is to pay rich people for the job who will pretend to spend their own money.
17. Flood the Internet with agents. This is the answer to the question, "What could possibly motivate a person to spend hour upon hour on Internet news groups defending the government and/or the press and harassing genuine critics?" Don t the authorities have defenders enough in all the newspapers, magazines, radio, and television? One would think refusing to print critical letters and screening out serious callers or dumping them from radio talk shows would be control enough, but, obviously, it is not.

Please check part 1 and 2 for context.
The Tonpa Kingdoms Part 1 (Overview and The Gods) : worldbuilding (reddit.com)
The Tonpa Kingdoms Part 2 (The Kingdoms of Jangshun and Monyul) : worldbuilding (reddit.com)
Tsaparang
Tsaparang is a Kingdom to the east of the other Tonpa Kingdoms, it is marked by thick jungles and winding rivers, a small number of mountains dot the landscape to the west, on the border with Jangshun and Monyul.
The jungles of Tsaparang are known for their dense vegetation and towering trees, with rivers that cut through the landscape and create a network of waterways. The jungle clearings are dotted with small villages, where the people of Tsaparang live and work in harmony with nature.
The people of Tsaparang have learned to live with the challenges of the jungle environment, including the risk of flooding during the rainy season and the dangers posed by wild animals. Despite these challenges, the jungle provides a wealth of resources for the people, including medicinal plants, exotic fruits, and valuable timber. The villagers have developed their own unique way of life, with a deep respect for the natural world and a strong sense of community. They work together to maintain their homes and farms, and to protect the jungle from outsiders who might seek to exploit its resources.
The kingdom of Tsaparang was founded by a legendary warrior king named Raja Dhananj, who converted to Tonpa and united several smaller kingdoms in the area left over from the Indraprastha Empire under his rule, he named it after a fortress city on the border of Monyul that was essential to his victory, he eventually built a grand capital city on the banks of the Brahmaputra River, which he named after himself – Dhananjpur.
The city is a bustling center of trade and commerce, and soon became known throughout the region for its wealth and prosperity. Over time, Dhananjpur grew into a magnificent city, with grand palaces, beautiful temples, and bustling markets, the most famous of which is the floating markets called Jalbazaar.
Jalbazaar is situated on the banks of the Brahmaputra River, which flows through the heart of the district. The district is famous for its bustling waterways, where vendors sell their wares from boats and barges that are moored along the riverbank. The floating markets of Jalbazaar are a riot of color and activity, with vendors hawking their wares to eager customers. The markets sell everything from fresh produce and seafood to handicrafts and textiles. The markets are busiest in the early morning, when fishermen bring in their catch from the river and vendors begin setting up their stalls. The air is filled with the smells of spices, cooking food, and fresh flowers, creating a heady atmosphere that is unique to Jalbazaar. Visitors to the floating markets can sample a wide variety of local delicacies, including steaming bowls of spicy fish curry, crispy fritters made from lentils and vegetables, and sweet desserts made from coconut and mango.
To the west of Dannajpur lies the village of Pashupati, the village sits on the edge of a dense jungle, its thatched-roof houses built on stilts to protect them from flooding during the monsoon season. At the center of the village is an ancient temple dedicated to the Dharmist God Pashupati, said to have been built by a powerful Thakur long ago. However, the temple has fallen into disrepair over the centuries, and now it is overrun with large cats, both tame and wild. The villagers believe that the cats are the guardians of the temple, and they feed and care for them as best they can. Some of the cats are even considered sacred, and are allowed to roam freely throughout the village. Despite the presence of the cats and the fact that the villagers abandoned Dharmism for Tonpa over a hundred years ago, the temple is still an important place of for the villagers, the temple's crumbling walls are adorned with faded murals depicting scenes from ancient legends and there is a sense of mystery and magic that pervades the place. Outsiders aren't rare in the village as it sits along an important road between two cities, but the villagers are wary of strangers who do not respect the cats, the temple or their ancient ways. However, they are hospitable and generous to those who show the cats respect and kindness.
The second most populous city in Tsaparang is called Serindia, it is nestled in the heart of a lush green valley, surrounded by towering cliffs on all sides, this small community has long been known for its bustling markets and vibrant culture. At the center of town, stands a magnificent castle, home to the ruling family of Serindia. Built from the finest stone and marble, the castle boasts towering walls and a grand hall where the noble lords and ladies of the land convene to discuss matters of great importance. But it's not just the castle that makes Serindia special. Just outside of town lies a sprawling grove of wild mango trees, known throughout the region for their delicious, juicy fruit. Every year, travelers from far and wide come to Serindia to sample the famous mangoes and to attend the lively festivals that celebrate the town's bountiful harvest.
The Company of the Wind have a large office in Serendia as every year people request them to deliver these magnificent mangoes so often.
As you wander the winding streets of Serindia, you'll encounter a diverse array of merchants and craftsmen, each offering unique wares and trades. You might stop by the blacksmith's shop to watch as he expertly hammers out a new sword, or perhaps you'll visit the town's resident healer, who is renowned for her ability to cure all manner of ailments.
The kingdom of Tsaparang is renowned for its skilled craftsmen and artisans, who create beautiful textiles, intricate jewelry, and exquisite pottery. The kingdom is also famous for its fine cuisine, which blends the flavors of local spices with influences from neighboring regions. Tsaparang has been ruled by a succession of wise and just kings and queens, who are respected and loved by their subjects. The royal palace is a grand structure, with beautiful gardens and courtyards, and is home to a vast library that contained works of literature and philosophy from throughout the world. The kingdom of Tsaparang is also known for its military might, and its armies are feared by neighboring kingdoms. However, the rulers of Tsaparang prefer diplomacy and trade over war, and are respected for their ability to negotiate peaceful solutions to disputes, the most famous army regiment of the Kingdom is called The Jungle Snakes.
The Jungle Snakes is a feared and respected regiment of soldiers who are known for their unique and deadly combination of a large tower shield and a short spear, this is meant to emulate a snake striking from the foliage of the jungle while the large shield allows the user to strike from safety. The soldiers of the Jungle Snakes are expert fighters, they train in their own unique martial art which requires them to train in the use of whip-swords, a sword made with a flexible whip like blade, although relatively useless in a large scale battle these swords are deadly in one-on-one fights and it is believed training with them develops agility and hand eye coordination. The Jungle Snakes is made up of elite soldiers who are chosen for their physical strength, agility, and quick reflexes, they are fiercely loyal to their kingdom and their commanders, and are known for their bravery and determination in battle. The Jungle Snakes are key component of the Tsaparang army, and are often called upon to guard royalty in battle. Their unique weapon and fighting style make them a formidable opponent, and they are feared and respected by enemies and allies alike.
Tashigang
Nestled deep within a treacherous and barely hospitable mountain range lies the kingdom of Taishigang, protected by rugged terrain and guarded by fiercely loyal soldiers. The people of this kingdom are rugged and tough, accustomed to the harsh conditions of their environment and deeply connected to the land that sustains them.
The tallest mountain in the known world is nestled within its borders, it is a revered holy site believed to be the last place on Earth the physical forms of the Three Gods were seen.
Taishigang is named after the two main ethnic groups that reside in the area, the Taishi and the Gangparan, occupying the north-west and the south-east respectively, the Taishi are said to be early cousins of the Jangshun people who migrated into the area hundreds of years before and the Gangparan are a group of people who escaped from the fall of the Indraprastha empire by migrating to the mountains. The kingdom is ruled by a council of clan leaders, with one among them being High Chief and first among equals, these leaders are chosen by their clans for their strength, cunning, and wisdom and in turn these leaders choose one among them to be High Chief, these leaders make decisions that affect the entire kingdom, and they are known for their fierce loyalty to the land and the people. The economy of the kingdom is based on mining and lumber, with the rugged landscape yielding valuable minerals and timber. The inhabitants of the kingdom work as miners and lumberjacks, extracting these resources from the earth and using them to build their homes and defenses.
Taishigang is home to a religious order of healers called “The Order of Spring” who are a a highly respected group of monks, the members of this order are known for their extensive knowledge of herbal medicine and natural remedies, as well as their spiritual practices that are believed to aid in the healing process. The Order of Spring has a long-standing tradition of passing down their healing techniques and knowledge from generation to generation, ensuring that their skills and expertise are not lost over time they are highly revered by the people of Taishigang, who often seek their help when they are sick or injured. Due to the harsh climate and rugged terrain of Taishigang, the Order of Spring has developed unique healing methods that are tailored to the specific challenges of the environment. They are experts in treating frostbite, hypothermia, altitude sickness, and other ailments that are common in cold, mountainous regions.
The members of the Order of Spring are dedicated to their craft and often travel far and wide in search of rare and unique ingredients to use in their remedies. They are known to journey deep into the mountain ranges and even venture into neighboring kingdoms to track down plants and herbs that are believed to hold powerful healing properties. Despite their extensive knowledge and skills, the healers of the Order of Spring are humble and compassionate. They offer their services to anyone in need, regardless of their social status or wealth. It is said that their selfless dedication to healing has helped to foster a strong sense of community and trust within the kingdom of Taishigang. The capital city of Taishigang is called Dzonggar, which means "fortress on the mountain" in the ancient language of the region. It is situated on a massive mountain peak that is over 4,000 meters high, with steep cliffs and a treacherous climb to reach the top. The city is built on multiple levels that follow the contours of the mountain, with each level connected by steep staircases and winding paths. The uppermost level of Dzonggar is the highest point in the city and is home to the Dragar Dzong, which serves as the administrative center for the region.
The Dzong is an imposing fortress with thick walls, ornate carvings, and intricate murals depicting scenes from Tonpa mythology. The upper level is also home to several important temples and monasteries that offer stunning views of the surrounding mountains. As one descends the mountain, the levels become more densely populated with homes and businesses. The middle levels of the city are home to bustling marketplaces, where merchants sell everything from spices to textiles to pottery. The lower levels of the city are home to workshops and industry, where artisans create beautiful handicrafts using traditional techniques. The city's buildings are made of stone and wood, with sloping roofs to withstand heavy snowfall. The streets are narrow and winding, with small shops and homes perched on the edge of the mountain. Each level of the city is connected by steep staircases and winding paths, making navigation through the city a challenging but rewarding experience. Despite its rugged location and challenging terrain, Dzonggar is a bustling city with a vibrant culture.
The people of Dzonggar are known for their colorful textiles, intricate woodcarvings, and exquisite metalwork. The city is also famous for its festivals, which are held throughout the year to celebrate the changing seasons, important religious holidays, and the city's rich cultural heritage. The military of the kingdom is composed of skilled rangers and guerilla warriors, trained to navigate the treacherous mountain terrain and to use it to their advantage. The rangers are experts in archery and hunting, the most famous regiment from Taishigang is called The Mountain Demons.
The Mountain Demons are an elite fighting force said to be established by the Lhakpa dynasty, the Mountain Demons only take the tallest of warriors some are said to reach up to 2 meters high, when one is chosen they go on a diet of carbs and protein to gain body mass, their training regiment consists of lifting heavy things and running long distances carrying heavy boulders, in battle they carry massive heavy weapons like hammers, clubs and sometimes even heavy metal gloves. Taishigang is home to the famous Druk-Lha Tsham, the Dragon-Tooth Forest, an expansive woodland that stretches across the western part of the Kingdom. The forest is named after the imposing mountain range that rises up from the trees like the teeth of a dragon.
The forest is home to a diverse array of flora and fauna, including towering pine trees, colorful wildflowers, and a variety of wildlife such as deer, foxes, and even the occasional black bear, streams and rivers flow through the forest in the summer, providing water for the plants and animals that call it home. Despite its natural beauty, the Dragon-Tooth Forest is also home to danger. Bandits and outlaws are known to hide within its depths, preying on travelers who venture too far from the safety of the nearby villages.
The forest is home to the village of Kulik a unique place where the houses are built high among the trees, the villagers live in beautiful treehouses connected by a network of wooden bridges that wind their way through the forest. The houses are made from local wood and are decorated with carvings of animals and intricate patterns. Some houses have balconies where the villagers can sit and enjoy the beautiful views of the forest.
The village has a central meeting place where the villagers gather to socialize and discuss village matters, the meeting place is just outside the only stone building in the village, the Lalimamandir, said to be a stone temple dedicated to the Dharmist God Lalima but repurposed into the home of the ruling Gurung Clan, the Gurung, saw similarities between Lalima and Caihong, who after a lengthy purification process instead dedicated the building to The Mother but kept the original name to honour the builders. The villagers are self-sufficient and grow their own food in small gardens and farms scattered throughout the forest. They also hunt and fish in the nearby rivers and streams. The villagers are known for their hospitality and welcome visitors with open arms, inviting them to stay in their beautiful treehouses and share in their way of life.
The people of the kingdom of Taishigang hold a special reverence for Caihong for it is her practical ways that help them survive the rugged terrain. The people of the kingdom have a rich artistic and musical tradition, heavily influenced by their connection to the land and the animals. They are known for their intricate carvings, woven textiles, and colorful paintings, as well as their haunting music and dance.
Khotesh
Khotesh is a kingdom to the west, most of it is located in a vast and arid desert, with small portion of the Kingdom located on grassy planes and snow-capped mountains. The kingdom is known for its rugged terrain, with towering sand dunes, rocky outcroppings, and deep canyons. Most of its people are former nomads who converted to the religion of Tonpa and settled in one place, but there are still some nomadic people who travel with their herds across the desert. The people of Khotesh practice religion fervently, with Tonpa's teachings serving as the foundation for their daily lives. Their art and architecture reflect the influence of the Three Gods, with intricate carvings and paintings of Tonpa and his disciples adorning the walls of many buildings in the kingdom. The kingdom is ruled by a powerful monarch who resides in a grand palace in the capital city of Khanbalik. The palace is a majestic structure with domed roofs and intricate carvings, surrounded by lush gardens and fountains. Despite the harshness of the environment, the people of Khotesh have a rich cultural heritage. They are proud of their nomadic roots, and many still wear traditional clothing and practice traditional customs. The former nomads who settled in one place have formed close-knit communities, and their hospitality to travelers is legendary. Its capital city; Khanbalik is a built upon the grassy plains of the hills to the east of the Kingdom. The city is situated at the junction of several trade routes, which has made it a hub of commerce and culture. Its walls are made of wood and earth, with watchtowers at regular intervals to provide defense against raiders and invaders. The city is known for its harsh and unpredictable climate, with hot winds blowing in from the desert and cold winds descending from the mountains. These winds collide over Khanbalik, creating powerful storms that batter the city every autumn and spring. The storms bring heavy rains, lightning, and hail, making travel and trade difficult during these seasons, it is said that the sun-showers that regularly bathe the city in this time are a meeting of the Three Gods as the Sun, Wind and Rain are all aspects of Caihong, Druk-Ta and Daiden respectively, people often dance in the streets when a sun-shower happens. Despite the challenges posed by the climate, Khanbalik remains a vibrant and bustling city. The streets are crowded with people from all walks of life, from wealthy merchants to wandering nomads. The city is divided into districts based on trade and social status, with the grandest buildings located near the center of the city. The palace of the ruling Khan is one of the most impressive structures in Khanbalik, with ornate wooden carvings and sweeping roofs that curve upward like the wings of a bird. The temple district is also a popular destination for visitors to the city, with a variety of religions represented in the many shrines and sanctuaries.
Khanbalik is not only a bustling hub of commerce and culture, but it is also a melting pot of different ethnic groups and cultures. One of the unique features of Khanbalik is the seasonal influx of nomads who come to the city a few times a year during the changing of the seasons. As the seasons shift from summer to autumn and from winter to spring, nomadic herders from the surrounding grasslands and mountains make their way to Khanbalik to trade goods, socialize, and partake in the city's offerings. The changing of the seasons is a time of celebration and renewal, and the nomads play an important role in this cycle. During the autumn season, nomads bring with them fresh produce such as fruits, vegetables, and grains. They also bring livestock such as sheep, goats, and horses to sell in the city's markets. In turn, they purchase items such as tools, clothing, and other necessities that they cannot produce on their own. In the spring, nomads return to Khanbalik with wool, meat, and dairy products from their herds. They also bring with them handmade crafts such as felt blankets, rugs, and clothing, which they trade for goods that will sustain them throughout the summer months. The seasonal exchange between the nomads and the city-dwellers is an important part of the culture and economy of Khanbalik. It fosters a sense of community and interdependence between the different groups, and it has been a tradition for generations.
One of the most interesting places in Khotesh is the town of Rokhala, a town carved into a towering sandstone cliff that rises high above the surrounding plains, the town's location is strategic, as it is nestled in a valley along a popular trade route, making it a profitable place for a settlement, the entrance to the town is a narrow, winding path that cuts into the cliff face, providing a natural defense against invaders. The town is built in a series of caves and carved out of sandstone, with buildings made from the same material, the structures are connected by narrow walkways, staircases, and bridges that cross over the canyon below. The town has a unique charm with its rustic stone architecture and winding passageways that twist and turn, creating an intriguing labyrinth of alleys and streets. The town has a diverse population, including traders, craftsmen, and mushroom farmers who make use of shallow caves to grow them in.
The town is home to a massive sandstone mining operation that exports sandstone all over the known world, sandstone from Rokhala is seen in the Confucian Kingdoms to the East, the Dharmist Kingdoms to the South and even the Caliphist and Mazdan Kingdoms to the West. Another interesting sight in the deserts of Khotesh is Altan Gazar, a bustling caravan that travels in harmony with the seasonal migration of a massive herd of Ibex, tents and yurts, woven from the finest camel and goat hair, are packed up and loaded onto sturdy pack animals as the city prepares to move to its next destination, the inhabitants are skilled in the art of packing and unpacking, swiftly transforming their temporary dwellings into a well-organized mobile settlement. As the herd of Ibex moves across the arid landscape, guided by the keen eyes of the city's inhabitants, the nomadic city follows in its wake, the city's layout is flexible and adaptable, with a central encampment for the tribal leader and their entourage, surrounded by the dwellings of other important individuals and their families. Water is a precious commodity in the desert, and the city relies on natural springs and wells discovered along the migration route, the inhabitants are experts in locating and utilizing these hidden water sources, carefully managing their usage to sustain their community and animals throughout their journey, rainwater is also collected during rare showers and stored in large containers for times when water is scarce.
The Ibex is an integral part of life to Altan Gazar, most adults carry a drinking horn made of Ibex horn, Ibex meat is regularly consumed in the spring with various spices found in the semi-arid grassy plains of their spring migration pattern, Ibex blood is sometimes drunk when water is scarce, fermented Ibex milk is a regular drink among the adults and Ibex skins are worn during cold winter nights. The city's architecture is designed to be lightweight and portable, with structures made of woven mats, reeds, and mud bricks. The city's inhabitants are skilled in constructing and deconstructing their homes as they move, utilizing locally available materials. Life in the nomadic city is intertwined with the rhythm of the desert and the migratory patterns of the Ibex. The inhabitants have a deep bond with their animals, particularly camels, which are used for transportation, milk, and meat. The city is a hub of trade and commerce, with merchants and traders from nearby towns and villages joining the city's journey, bartering for goods and services along the way.
The army of Khotesh is renowned for its hardiness and combat prowess in desert conditions. The kingdom has a long history of fending off invasions and raids from neighboring regions, and its army is specifically trained to operate effectively in desert terrain. The soldiers of Khotesh are known for their ruggedness and resilience, with many of them hailing from nomadic backgrounds. They are skilled in mounted combat, with cavalry units comprising a significant portion of the army. These cavalry units are particularly adept at hit-and-run tactics, using their speed and mobility to strike quickly and then retreat before the enemy can respond.
In addition to cavalry, the army of Khotesh also includes infantry units that specialize in desert warfare. These soldiers are trained to navigate harsh terrain and extreme temperatures, and they are equipped with light armor and weapons that are well-suited for the desert environment. They are skilled in using terrain to their advantage, and are adept at setting ambushes and launching surprise attacks. One of the unique features of the Khotesh army is their use of desert animals in combat. The kingdom is home to a variety of animals that have been domesticated and trained for military purposes, including camels and falcons. Camels are particularly useful in desert warfare due to their ability to traverse long distances with little water, and they are often used to transport soldiers and supplies across the harsh desert terrain. Falcons, on the other hand, are used for scouting and reconnaissance, and are trained to locate and track enemy troops.
The most famous army regiment of Khotesh is called The Scorpions, they are renowned desert survivalists and lone assassins, but in times of battle they are called upon to form a vanguard for the ruling Khan or Khanum, alone they are formidable but as a unit they are immensely dangerous, they are expert hand to hand combatants and excel at short, light weapons like shortswords and javelins. Another famed regiment of Khotesh is called The Hailstones, they are a Camel cavalry unit who use shock cavalry tactics, their camels have two riders, a spearman on the front and an archer on the back, the camels are bred to be massive to carry out such a feat, the spearman on the front charges into infantry lines with the spear and then turns away from the enemy to line up another charge while the archer on the back fires into their ranks, it is a very effective tactic that has won many battles.

This isn’t even that bad compared to what we use to get. When paradise was burning the entire central valleys was covered in smoke and I remember there was like a week where the smoke was so thick that you couldn’t see more than 50 yards in front of you. This is going to get worse too because our country doesn’t take conservation as seriously as it should

There’s a saying in my hometown: “Nobody leaves Copper Hill for good.”
For years, I’d mostly managed to defy it. In the decade that followed my graduation from Copper Hill High School, I hardly set foot in its vicinity.
Instead, I absorbed myself in my studies at an out-of-state university and, eventually, my career. I spent the little free time I had with my girlfriend, who I’d met as a sophomore in a chemistry lab, and her friends. When we eventually broke up, I lost not only her, but also what little social life I had.
It was in this state of loneliness that I found a letter from my old high school in the mail. This surprised me, as I hadn’t realized that anyone there even knew my current mailing address.
I opened the envelope to find an invitation inside. Its design was fancier than I’d expected, complete with gold-colored glitter, a royal blue background, and a finely-drawn silver border. It read, in cursive letters: Cheers for 10 Years! Zachary R. ___, Please Join Us for the CHHS Class of 2013 Official Reunion. It went on to list a start time and the school’s address.
On its back, it even contained a personalized handwritten note: I know you live far away, Zach, but it would mean so much to me if you can make the trip. Paul and I will be there, and Arthur may fly in as well. I’d love to catch up! Hope to see you soon – Vince K___, Co-Chair, CHHS Reunion Planning Committee.
Vince had been one of my best friends, once. You see, Copper Hill is one of those rare small towns where you can easily graduate from high school alongside the same friends you first made in kindergarten – in my case, my buddies Arthur, Paul, and Vince.
I’d spent most of my youth with them. The four of us were in the same scout troop, played on the same sports teams, and took mostly the same classes. On weekends – and on weeknights, when we felt like sneaking out without permission – we often stayed up late together playing video games and drinking whatever cheap beer we managed to keep hidden from our parents.
We’d meant so much to each other once. So why, since graduation, had I neglected them so badly? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d talked to any of them.
Perhaps this reunion could serve as an opportunity for me to reignite friendships I’d let fade. At a minimum, I knew that spending time – even just one evening – with my old pals would do me a lot of good, especially considering how lonely I’d been lately. Accordingly, I resolved to attend.
~
By the time I reached Copper Hill, I was an hour behind schedule due to congestion caused by an accident. As I approached town, I observed amidst the fading evening light that it appeared even quieter and more deserted than I remembered. Bars that had reliably drawn decent crowds on a Friday night ranged from boarded-up to barely occupied. Meanwhile, the few other cars on the street drove lethargically at speeds far below the limit, and I spotted no pedestrians.
In my memory, the school was only a short distance from the courthouse, city hall, and post office that formed most of ‘downtown,’ but my GPS took me down a long, unfamiliar route bordered on both sides by tall cornfields. I was about to pull over and double-check the address I’d entered when, sure enough, my headlights illuminated a sign in the school’s distinct black and red colors that stated: CHHS: Home of the Patriots.
The brick building that loomed behind it was just as I remembered, from its tall, towering middle section to the two narrower wings that stretched out to the left and right. Through the rectangular windows that lined the main building, I made out indistinct, shadowy figures milling about inside.
A banner displaying Welcome – 10 Years – CHHS Reunion stretched over the stairs that led to the main entrance. Underneath it, a familiar figure scurried towards the main entrance. “Arthur,” I said to myself with a smile.
Seeing Arthur improved my mood. He was the only other member of our class to leave town after graduation, and I suspected that he might share somewhat of an outsider status with me.
It’ll be just like old times, I reassured myself as I approached the building. Strangely, though, it still didn’t feel that way.
For one, the air had a staleness to it that was difficult to describe. It felt artificial and thin such that, as I climbed the front steps, I found myself needing to breathe in more of it than usual to avoid getting winded.
Plus, the school’s location still seemed off somehow. It didn’t make any sense – it’s not like a building this large could have been relocated. But, amidst the eerily quiet surrounding countryside, everything felt more isolated and remote than I remembered it being.
I tried to stop worrying. After all, with any luck, I’d soon be laughing and reminiscing with old friends who’d be happy to see me.
Inside, balloon garlands, multicolored streamers, triangle flags, and small banners welcoming attendees decorated the main corridor. I observed tables stocked with snacks, pamphlets, and information about fundraisers.
The only noise came from the intercom, which planned an era-appropriate Calvin Harris song. Everything necessary for a reunion was there, with only one notable exception: the people.
As I approached an unmanned table marked “Check In,” I wondered where everybody had gone. Perhaps the event had moved to a different room? I was late, after all.
As I added my signature to a sign-in sheet, my eyes scanned the list of other attendees who were marked as having already arrived. I recognized many names on it.
Like Alice, who’d shared a stand with me in orchestra. Our conductor was a hard-ass, a real disciplinarian who snapped at us constantly, and Alice was one of the many students he’d driven to tears on a semi-regular basis.
I’d had this petty fantasy of comforting her after class, and then mustering the courage to ask her out. But I never did it. It was Vince, actually, who’d ended up with her.
That had always annoyed me. I’d confided in Vince about how I felt about Alice and, soon after, the two of them were together. It felt as frustrating as it sounds. But, oh well, that’s what I get for hesitating for as long as I did.
Drifting down the hallway, my eyes caught the words “Reception” displayed over double-doors that led to the gymnasium. It made sense as the main location for the event – that’s where homecoming, prom, and plenty of major sports events were held, after all.
I could hear chatter, laughter, and the loud thump of dance music just beyond the gym doors. I approached it excitedly.
But, when I stepped inside, all the noise instantly cut out, leaving me in an eerie silence. Even more perplexingly, the room before me, like the entrance corridor, was entirely devoid of people.
A party had just been here, no doubt. I spotted a makeshift bar stocked with a standard assortment of liquor, tables holding half-finished drinks and refreshments, and an area cleared for a dance floor in the room’s center, but there were no people around. Had I missed everyone again? Where had they gone?
“Hello?” I called out, to no avail, as I drifted around the room in a state of bewilderment.
As I did so, I came across the entrance to the boy’s locker room. Just a whiff of the musty, sweaty smell emanating from it unlocked long-buried memories of the time I’d spent in there.
I remembered one occasion, in particular, where Paul had gotten pissed at me. Paul was usually a pretty low-key guy, but when he lost it, he went wild. On that particular occasion, he’d been angry with me, hadn’t he? But why?
I recalled his hot breath as he got in my face and screamed at me. When I gently nudged him away, he responded by slamming a locker door into my head.
My memories from that moment forward were hazy. There was a growing pool of blood, the pain of his fist against my cheek, and the cheering of the classmates who had encircled us. They were egging us on to continue the ‘fight,’ as if my beating could be called that.
I hadn’t thought about this event in years. How could I have forgotten something like that? My mind churned in confusion. Feeling dizzy, I took a seat on a bench that appeared to be part of a crude photobooth setup as my mind continued to replay this repressed memory.
As Paul had continued to pummel me, I’d spotted Vince among the gathered crowd. I’d begged for him to intervene. But neither he, nor our strangely absent instructor, had done anything to help me. It was only when Arthur got between us that Paul had reluctantly cooled off.
It had taken weeks for those bruises to heal. Had Paul ever been punished for it, or even apologized? Surely he must have. We’d remained friends, after all.
A strange pressure around my shoulder and a sudden bright light jolted me back to the present. The flash on the camera facing the bench I was sitting on had…gone off, somehow, even with nobody around to operate it. How was that possible? Maybe it was automated to go off every so often?
It didn’t make sense, just like so much else that was happening. Where was everybody, and whose voices had I been hearing? I’d seen people from the road, and I’d even watched Arthur come inside, but, as far as I could tell, the event was deserted.
I texted Arthur asking if he’d found anyone. For all I knew, he could have changed his number in the many years that had gone by since I’d last used it, but I figured it was worth a shot. To my relief, he responded right away.
Hey man, long time no see! Paul just called me. He says everyone’s up on the third floor, in Mr. Minelli’s old room. I’m on my way there now. Meet you there soon.
I couldn’t fathom why the entire event would relocate from the area clearly designated for it to the third floor. There wasn’t much up there, after all, aside from classrooms and a few administrative officers.
Nonetheless, I resolved to head up there. Arthur was there, after all, and hopefully the rest of my friends would be as well.
Navigating off my memory of the building’s layout, I hopped up a small set of steps that connected the gym to the second floor. From there, it would just be a short walk past a few classrooms before I’d arrive at the central staircase, which would take me to my destination.
I’d never seen the school quite this gloomy before. Each footstep echoed through the halls. The classrooms were weirdly empty, too, bereft of any decorations or other signs of use.
I recognized one as my calculus classroom. I remembered how, after class had ended one day, I’d come across a group of students congregating in the hallway.
Mary, Michelle, and Abby, like so many of my classmates, had grown up with me, and I’d always gotten along with them. But that day, they were harassing a shy girl – Morgan, I think. Calling her all sorts of names – ‘slut,’ ‘whore,’ ‘bitch’. She was trying to get away from them, but they wouldn’t let her leave. Their taunting of her became a regular thing, and it often left Morgan in tears.
What ever happened to Morgan? Like most of my friends, I’d known her since I was a little kid. She was quiet, but she was perfectly nice.
Then, one day, gossip about her started to spread. The type of nasty, embellished rumors that often make their way through high schools, full of sexist undertones and double standards. Her former friends shunned her, and she’d been subjected to taunting and ridicule as she walked to class and sat alone at lunch. And, one day, she was just…gone. I’d always assumed that her family had moved away, but was that true?
Growing up, Mary, Michelle, and Abby had always been sweet girls. I’d never seen them treat another person the way they’d treated Morgan. But Copper Hill High School had a way of bringing out the worst in people. There was just something about this building, this place, that ate away at their – at our – souls.
Had I bullied Morgan, too? Maybe not, but, once her mistreatment started, it’s not like I’d made an effort to be kind to her, or ever invited her to sit with me and my friends in the cafeteria. I could have done more.
I reached the central staircase. With each step that I took up towards the third floor, a feeling of dread ran through me. I’d seen something terrible happen up here, hadn’t I?
It was Paul and Vince. Arthur had done something to offend them. It could have been the rumors spreading about his reasons for never having a girlfriend, his diminutive size, or the way he’d reacted when Paul had beaten me half to death.
Whatever the reason, Paul and Vince – without my knowledge – had decided to subject Arthur to a cruel prank. After school one day, they’d lured Arthur up to the third floor, where they’d taken hold of him and tried to wedge him into his own locker.
Now, there’s a reason this sort of thing occurs primarily on 90s sitcoms: most people simply can’t fit inside of a locker. Arthur, as short and skinny as he was, turned out to be no exception, but this only made things worse for him.
As Arthur later related to me, Paul and Vince laughed rowdily as they slammed him repeatedly into the metal frame. By the time they finally relented, Arthur had bruises all over his body.
There were other horrible acts, too. Other victims, other beatings. It dawned on me that this place had been an absolute hellhole. It’s no wonder I – and Arthur, too – had gotten as far away from it as we could at the first opportunity.
The peculiar thing was that, in the years that had passed, I’d somehow forgotten all of this until just now. Instead, my recollections of high school were all happy, all positive. Had false memories of camaraderie and friendship drawn Arthur back as well?
Finally, I reached the third level. The overhead fluorescent light fixtures flickered sporadically, revealing, in brief spurts, dilapidated lockers, litter, and layers of dust and dirt that coated the floor.
I approached Mr. Minelli’s classroom. Through the shaded hallway window, I could discern the outlines of roughly a dozen figures inside. I heard a voice, too. It was muffled and indistinct, but I could tell that the speaker was giving some kind of speech. She stopped, and a loud round of applause followed.
I reached for the door handle, unsure of what to expect. Hopefully, it would just be the people I’d driven four hours to see. But, after the events thus far, I half-expected the room to be empty. If so, I was jumping ship and going home.
To my surprise, just before I made contact with it, the door slowly opened on its own. The brightly-lit room before me was filled not with people, at least in the general understanding of the word. Rather, the still, bony forms before me resembled the kind of props a biology teacher might use to teach human anatomy.
The skeletons that stood silently throughout the room – that stood posed with drinks, that sat at desks, and that had assembled around a speaker - had to be props, right? Even though Mr. Minelli was a history teacher?
My mind searched desperately for some kind of explanation. This had to be an elaborate prank, right? Had Vince and Paul lured me, and maybe Arthur, too, out here just to freak us the fuck out? I wouldn’t put it past them – it’s precisely the kind of thing they’d do, even if the whole set-up, complete with an array of prop skeletons, was a bit extreme.
But, then, who was making all the noises I’d been hearing? Was that part of the prank, too?
Fuck it, I thought. If this was a big gag at my expense, then I’d just have to deal with the embarrassment later. I was getting out of there.
“Zach,” called a strained voice in the hallway.
“If this a joke, then it’s not-”
The voice interrupted me. “Zach, help me, please!” It was Arthur’s voice, and it was coming from the hallway nearby.
He sounded like he was in serious trouble, so I hurried after him. Eventually, I found myself in a corner of the hallway – one where, if I remembered correctly, he and I used to have lockers. But, once again, I found myself alone.
I yelled out his name several times: “Arthur! Arthur!” It was no use. I appeared to be at a dead end.
That’s when the locker next to me shook. I jumped back, surprised.
It was shut, but not locked. I gripped the handle and pulled it open.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw inside: it was Arthur’s torso. The rest of his body was gone, and something was dragging what was left of him further away, further back into a dark abyss where the wall should have been.
Blood gurgled out of his mouth as he gasped my name one last time. He reached out a blood-covered hand. Hoping to somehow pull him out, I tried to take it, only for whatever unseen force had taken hold of him to pull him away, leaving behind a wide hole in the back of the locker. More blood gushed through it, leaking onto the hallway floor.
“So glad you could make it,” said a monotone voice behind me. I whirled around to see two fleshy arms emerge from another locker across from me. The skinless figure left wet, red stains on the white surface as she got to her feet and stepped towards me. “Don’t you recognize your old crush? Surely ten years haven’t been that rough on me.”
“A-alice?” I stuttered, stepping backwards.
Lockers all around me started opening, each accompanied by a new pair of bloody, seemingly boneless arms of figures that slowly crawled outwards.
My survival instincts kicked in. I sprinted away, my legs frantically carrying me towards the main staircase. All around me, figures emerged, reaching out to me as I passed by. Through an open door, I noticed that another classroom was filled with skeletons, just as Mr. Minelli’s had been.
When I reached the main staircase, it was guarded by a tall, fleshy figure. “Don’t you want to be with us?” it asked in a familiar, deep voice that I knew to be Paul’s. “We can be complete. A full class. All of us, together again. Like old times.”
He lurched for me. Just barely, I managed to dodge him, but I lost balance in the process. Before I knew it, I was tumbling down the stairs. Pain shot through me as I collided with step after step.
Finally, I landed on a level surface. Dizzily, I climbed to my feet and did my best to ignore the soreness that spread throughout my body.
A quick glance upwards confirmed that the bloody figures – the ones that somehow resembled my old classmates – were, indeed, heading towards me.
Meanwhile, the temperature inside was rising noticeably, and the walls around me were steadily changing in color from a dull gray to a deep red.
As I scrambled down the rest of the stairs and across the main corridor on the first floor, an intense tremor ran through the building, sending me sprawling to the ground. Despite a sharp pain that spread through my ankle, I hobbled as quickly as I could to the exit.
I didn’t look back as I made my way across the parking lot to my car. I started the ignition, backed out, and headed towards the long road I’d used to get there.
In my rearview mirror, I chanced a glance back at the school. It was shaking violently, like it was being struck by an earthquake.
My car lurched in different directions as the ground underneath me also started to rumble. In an effort to avoid my car being sent off the road and into the neighboring fields, I frantically steered it to the center, between the lanes heading into and out of town.
When I looked back again, the school was, somehow, even closer to me than it had been before. How was that possible? Was it following me?
I floored the accelerator. Row after row of cornfield flew by me as I drove at the fastest speed of my life.
~
I was on the edge of town, close to the nearest interstate ramp, when local police pulled me over.
As the officer approached me, I stared into the rear view mirror. At the first glimpse of whatever it was that had chased after me, I’d hit the road again, law enforcement be damned. In truth, I hadn’t seen my pursuer since I’d exited the cornfield a few minutes ago, but I hardly felt safe.
“Clocked you going nearly a hundred, son,” said the officer.
I stayed silent. My baffled self was unsure of how to best handle the situation.
The officer gave me a quizzical look as he examined my ID and registration. “You’re Don and Fran’s son, aren’t you? The one who left town?”
I nodded.
“Why’d you come back?”
“There was, uh, a ten-year reunion. For my graduating class.”
He shook his head. “I doubt that.” He looked down, then at my perplexed face. “Where, exactly, was this ‘reunion’?”
“At the school,” I said. I struggled to understand his reaction. What about my story didn’t make sense? And, regardless, was I about to be booked for driving fifty miles over the speed limit? Is that something they throw you in jail for?
“Wait here,” barked the officer. He went to his car where he proceeded to have a long conversation over his radio. After a few minutes, he returned to me. “Get out of here, son. Leave, and don’t come back. Don’t do something like this again. You hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” I said, astonished.
“Then scram,” he ordered.
I obliged and began the long journey home.
~ I had no idea what to make of what occurred. I can hardly find anything at all online about Copper Hill High, or any of my classmates who went there, and I’m not exactly eager to reach out to any of them.
I can’t make much sense of what happened, but I am sure of one thing: that I barely made it out of that situation, and that I shouldn’t press my luck much further.
My ankle needs some more time to heal. Once it does, I’m going to try joining a social club and making new friends. After what happened to me in Copper Hill, I decided that the past is not a place where I need to dwell any longer.
Two weeks have passed since the reunion. Today, an envelope with no return address arrived with my mail. It contained a single photograph on glossy paper with a short note written underneath.
The photo featured me on the bench in the photo booth. Sitting to my side, with his arm over my shoulders, was Vince. He wore a blue collared shirt and looked…normal. No missing skin, no bloody imprints on the surface around him.
Paul crouched behind us, a dopey grin on his face. He, too, looked just as I’d imagined he would in his late twenties. To Paul’s right, Abby, Morgan, and Michelle posed together with their arms around each other.
It was…a perfectly ordinary image - the exact kind of photo you’d expect to be taken at an event like that.
The handwritten caption underneath read, “Although your visit was briefer than we preferred, we all had a splendid time catching up with you, Zach! Please feel free to come by anytime! Nobody truly leaves Copper Hill, after all. – Vince K___, Co-Chair, CHHS Reunion Planning Committee.
P.S., the note continued, We are delighted that Arthur has finally joined us. Maybe you will, too, at our 20th.
The writing up to this point was cursive font in traditional black ink. The last few words, however, were larger in size, messily scrawled, and colored a deep shade of red: See you then, buddy, if not sooner.
X

This is Part 2 of this write-up. Please read part 1 first. This is the link:
https://www.reddit.com/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/143r7l9/felix_vail_the_pedophile_serial_killer_caught/

PART 2:

ANNETTE CRAVER:

Born on the 7th of December 1965, Annette Craver was intelligent and creative. At 15 she was a singer-songwriter and in her senior year at a private school that specialized in medicine. Her dream was to become a midwife.
http://charleyproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/vail_annette6.jpg(A photo of Annette Craver.)
In the summer of 1981, she and her mother, Mary Rose greeted people at a friend’s yard sale in the Montrose neighborhood in Houston, Texas. They had just returned from a vacation in Mexico, and Annette felt heartsick, still infatuated with a boy named Adolfo, who was unable to join her in America.
VAIL MEETS ANNETTE
While people browsed the sale, Vail pulled up on a motorcycle and spoke with Annette. He was 41 and had done some carpentry work in the area. “When I saw her, I thought, ‘That’s going to be my new girlfriend,’” he said about the 15-year-old.
In April 1982, Rose and her daughter invested in a Tulsa home that had a rental cottage behind it. Rose began renovating both. After graduating from high school, Annette joined her mother in Tulsa. Vail appeared a few days later, and convinced Annette to leave with him on his motorcycle. They lived off the $500-a-month Social Security check that she received from her father’s death 3 years prior. It would be over a year before Mary Rose would see her daughter again.
That fall, Annette (who was still 15) would fall pregnant, and Vail would force her to have a painful abortion.
Jerry Woodall, reportedly friends with Vail later recalled an embarrassing scene, where the 42-year-old Vail was in a sleeping bag, having public sex with a 16-year-old Annette, only 20 feet away from him and his then-wife Meredith McMackin. Annette grinned and waved at them. Woodall and McMackin did their best to ignore them.
McMackin would later say that Vail had “this coldness and controlling aspect to his personality. Annette was so open and alive, but I think he just totally dominated her. He would try to convey that he was this higher form of being. At first, I thought maybe he was evolved, but then I realized it was this arrogant act.”
Later that summer, police in California would arrest Vail for violating probation a dozen years earlier. Annette telephoned Woodall, who gave her $200. After Vail walked free from prison, he and Annette decided to get married. However, as a 17-year-old she needed permission.
Annette told her mother that she loved Vail, that they were already “spiritually married” and that they would travel to Mexico and get married there if she refused. Not wanting to lose her daughter completely, Rose said OK.
On August 15th, 1983, in Bakersfield, California, the couple were wed.
AFTER THE MARRIAGE
Four months after the marriage, Annette turned 18, allowing her to collect more than $98,000 ($293,500 today) from life insurance policies on her late father. Accompanied by Vail, she withdrew all the money in cash from a San Antonio bank. She bought a Fiat convertible that Vail liked and paid for his dental work.
In April 1984, Rose returned home to find Annette waiting at her door. She told her she wanted to divorce Vail, and enroll in college. She talked about Vail’s temper, including an incident where he had broken his hand trying to punch his wife. He missed and hit a wall.
A few weeks later, Vail showed up. The couple fought constantly, and Vail left after a few days. Mary Rose said that Vail was “insanely jealous” and would become furious when Annette spoke of her desire to go out with younger men.
She and Annette worked on renovating the two homes after Vail left, enjoying their time together. The 2 even started a garden together.
Annette received a letter from Vail, who vowed their time apart would fuel their love. He wrote to her: “After we hung up, I went out to a park and ran and hung and talked with God and smoked some and shot some pool and rode with the top down out through the marsh playing ‘Iron Butterfly’ [“In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”] and bathing every inch of your body-spirit being with love.”
He referred to being away from Annette as “deprivation jail” and to her ego as “his jailor.”
“The idea of her cutting away ego’s “feeder roots and creating roots between your spirit and the cosmic ground of loving makes me hot for you. My mind is kissing you everywhere.”
After that, Vail would return to Annette’s life. Rose said, “Annette told me, ‘Felix is the wisest person in the world, and I can’t make decisions without him.’” His influence on Annette had only grown stronger. According to Rose, she even compared Vail to God, a comparison Vail agreed with.
After this, the couple angrily insisted that Rose move out and deed the house to Annette. Accompanied by suicidal thoughts brought on by Vail’s continued control over her daughter, Rose left for California to stay with family and friends, deeding the house to Annette for $7000 ($21,000 today) before she did.
Annette would add Vail to the deed, and a month later had deeded him both homes, leaving him as the sole owner.
ANNETTE’S DISAPPEARANCE
Mere weeks after deeding the houses to Vail, the couple told neighbors they were leaving on vacation. When Vail returned in October, he was alone.
Vail told a neighbor that Annette had a lot of money wither her when he’d left her, and that she was likely visiting friends in Denver.
Upon learning that Annette hadn’t come back with Vail, Mary Rose called him. “He told me that while they were camping, Annette had a sexual dream about being with other men in Mexico, and she wanted to go there,” she recalled to an investigative reporter years later. “He claimed that the dream made them both realize that she should have her freedom.” The next day, Vail told her he had put Annette on a bus with $50,000 ($150,000 today) but didn't elaborate.
On Oct 22, 1984, Rose filed a missing person’s report. She told the Tulsa Police Department that each person who spoke with Vail “gets a different story about the amount of money that Annette took with her and where she might be. We all believe that he knows where she is or has done something with her.”
On January 22, 1985, Detective Dennis Davis and another officer questioned Vail at his home (This is obscenely late to start questioning him). By this point, Vail had filed for divorce, citing an inability to find her after a “diligent search.” Davis said her mother, Mary Rose, mentioned her daughter had received more than $90,000 from her father’s estate. Vail confirmed this was true, saying the couple had spent much of that money traveling in foreign countries. He said they kept their money in cash because they didn’t trust banks and that he had found about $10,000 in cash when he returned home.
The next day, Vail called a lawyer, who promised to talk with the officers and tell them to “leave me alone,” as he wrote in his journal.
When Davis returned five days later, Vail had a detailed alibi: The couple left Tulsa between noon and 3 p.m. on Sept. 13, 1984, and stayed the night in a hotel in Claremont, Oklahoma. After two nights of camping on the river, Annette woke up and told Vail she had decided to leave him. He took her to the Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis and left before she bought the ticket. (There is no Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis, and there has never been a Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis.)
He told the officers that she had told him she was headed for Denver, where she planned to get a fake ID card and leave for Mexico. When asked if he would take a lie detector test, Vail said no.
After Davis left, he wrote a letter to Rose. He blamed her for the “bad things” about Annette, told her that after the couple had returned from Costa Rica Annette had been “seeing friends and relatives --- completing her relationships with them for the purpose of getting ready to drop everybody and start over.” He wrote that Annette “disappeared herself from you” because Rose kept imposing her “value system” on her, and said Annette viewed her mother, grandmother, and herself as “zero self-image whores for approval.”
He explained the 2 had no plans to communicate, he did not know where she was, and that “I also assure you that even if I did know, I would not tell you.”
When Rose returned to Tulsa in April 1985, she entered the cottage Annette used to live in, only to find almost all the young woman’s belongings were gone, including her clothes and her diary.
Inside a Barbie suitcase, Rose found a photograph of her daughter and several of her identification cards. She also located things that Annette had written, including a Feb. 17, 1984, note that contradicted Vail’s claim that the couple had spent most of her inheritance on their travel to Mexico and Central American countries.
Instead, the note detailed how they used the money to buy the Fiat, pay off all of Vail’s loans, and deposit $36,000 into Louisiana Savings. It said that as of that day, they had $41,600 ($125,000 today) in cash.
Rose shared the information with the police. Detective Davis showed up again, and Vail told Davis the couple divided the money into smaller cashier’s checks, contradicting his earlier statement that they kept the money in cash.
After a while, Davis left, and despite the (seemingly obvious) suspicious behavior of Vail, closed the missing person’s case.
AFTER ANNETTE’S DISAPPEARANCE
Rose kept calling Vail after this and was finally able to reach him on September 14th 1985.
When asked about Annette’s whereabouts he refused to tell her.
When asked about Annette’s missing clothes he said he gave them to charity.
When asked about the insurance money, Vail told her ‘That’s all she really cared about.’ Rose hung up.
Two years later, fed up with the lack of progress in Annette’s case, Rose would return to Tulsa. She spent thousands of dollars on private investigators to locate Vail. When that failed, she simply went and found him herself.
Tipped off that he was staying at someone’s house, she went there with a friend and found him sitting outside. When asked where Annette went, he replied “Mexico.” When asked where in Mexico, he said the 2 had made a pact to contact each other every 5 years, contradicting his statement that the 2 didn’t have plans to communicate. Rose didn’t believe a word of it.
The whole time Vail never looked up, never stood up and never looked her in the eye.
BETH FIELD
Some time after this, Vail began dating Beth Field. Soon the couple had began arguing, and Vail would call her a “whore.” During a December 1987 argument, he would strike her so hard he ruptured her ear drum. She told Vail there was no justification for violence, to which he responded, “If you quit behaving like a whore, I’ll quit hitting you.”
In August 1988 Beth received a call from Rose, sharing details about the disappearance of her daughter, Annette. From that point forward, Field said she began to examine Vail’s words more closely, realizing that he had likely murdered her.
Four months after the call, he entered her home unannounced. Already drunk, he accused her of “imagined promiscuity,” according to a court order. He slapped her, struck her, and threw her across the bedroom. She asked if Vail was going to kill her, to which Vail replied, “It depends on what you tell me.”
A judge gave her a protective order, requiring Vail to keep his distance. Two weeks later, the sheriff reported that Vail was nowhere to be found.
While Field was visiting a meditation center in Texas in 1990, Vail arrived. After composing herself, she told him “There is a part of you that goes off, and it’s sick and it’s dangerous.”
He looked at her and asked, “Really?” She said “yes, really.” This time, the message seemed to go through. Vail left the next day, and with a single exception about five years later, she never saw him again.
MARY ROSE LEARNS ABOUT THE OTHER 2 CASES
In the summer of 1991 (6 years after Annette's disappearance), Rose drove over 2000 miles to Canyon Lake, Texas to speak to Sue Jordan, Felix Vail’s sister. Jordan said that Vail had told her that Annette wanted to leave, that he took her to a bus station and that she left with some Mexican men, heading for Mexico. Jordan also mentioned that Vail’s first wife had drowned, which was news to Rose.
Before she left, Jordan also told her, “Oh, you know, there was another woman that disappeared. I remember her mother calling my mother for years, checking to see if they’d heard from her. I think her name was Sharon.”
After the conversation, Rose sat down at a typewriter, writing every word she could remember. She also called the public library in Lake Charles.
The librarian remembered the 1962 drowning of Vail’s first wife, Mary Horton. She told Rose that he had taken out life insurance policies on his wife prior to her drowning and that the insurance companies were suspicious and didn’t pay the full value. The librarian made copies of newspaper articles and mailed them to her.
After reading them, Rose reached out to Mary’s family in Louisiana, speaking to Will Horton. He shared her suspicions about Vail and a copy of the 1971 National Enquirer article made after Vail's son Bill reported him to the police. When she read it, she learned that Sharon’s last name was Hensley.
In 1994, she read in the newspaper about Dolores Strehlow’s disappearance from Medford, Oregon, seven years earlier. Police had just arrested her husband, thanks to the work of Detective Terry Newell. She contacted Newell, who helped her find the family of Sharon Hensley. When Rose dialed the Hensley family, Sharon’s mother, Peggy, answered. Rose asked if Peggy knew a Felix Vail. Peggy replied with "you bet I do"
THE INVESTIGATION HEATS UP… AND COOLS DOWN
The detective who helped Rose before, Terry Newell, contacted Jim Bell, a national expert in serial killings working for the FBI. When Rose talked with Bell, she felt like she'd finally gotten somewhere. He was interested in working on the Vail case if he could swing the time. He still remained busy with active serial killer cases, helping train task forces across the U.S. Vail’s son, Bill, told Rose that he was willing to testify, as long as authorities provided protection to his family. Both the Tulsa police and the district attorney’s office in Lake Charles revived their investigations into Vail, now considered a suspected serial killer.
Bell suggested the victims’ families gather with authorities at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, to share information on Vail. He was unable to work on the case and left the FBI in 1995. The meeting in Quantico never materialized, and the cases involving Vail grew cold once again.
A QUICK RUN DOWN OF EVENTS
In the fall of 1997, family and friends held a mural for Annette.
Diagnosed with esophageal cancer, Vail’s son Bill heard from doctors that he didn’t have long to live. He’s quoted saying “now I’ll get to be with my mom.” Months before passing away in 2009, Bill talked about his father in a recorded interview with his pastor at Grace Church in Overland Park, Kansas.
On Jan. 3, 2009, Bill died, and Vail wrote in his journal, “I feel a large empty hole in my being where his life presence has been for 47 years,” before writing about getting a good haircut. He drove to Kansas but didn’t attend his own son’s funeral. If he had, he would have heard the recording, with his son detailing how he had overheard his father talk about murdering Bill's mother, Mary.
When Vail learned of the recording, he wrote to Pastor Tim Howey, asking for a copy. He blamed his son’s statements on “false memories,” saying, “I have not known about it until now and am stunned.”
In 2012, while attempting to confront Vail with reporter Jerry Mitchell whom she had contacted to write about Vial, Rose was stopped by Kaye Faulkner, Vial’s sister. She told Rose and Mitchell of the recording and urged Mitchell to get a copy of it. She also said that she believed Vial had murdered Mary Horton, Sharon Hensley, and Annette Craver.
She gave the reporter Vial’s number, as well as the numbers of her other brother, Ronnie, and her sister, Beth. Vial didn’t answer those calls, so Mitchell left a message. Ronnie promised to speak to his brother on his behalf.
MITCHELL INVESTIGATES
Mitchell arrived in Lake Charles and stopped by the Southwestern Louisiana Genealogical and Historical Library, which shared copies from old city directories. He began tracking down people who had lived in the Maree Apartments with Felix and Mary.
Many described Mary’s fair of drowning. A close friend of Vails, Judson McCann II described Vial as a ladies’ man, and insinuated he was a cheater. “Many nights, his car wouldn’t be home, and Mary would be there with the lights on. When Felix was gone, it wasn’t because he was trotline fishing.”
Another close friend, Bob Hodges described Vial’s story of Mary ‘falling’ in the river as “horse manure.”
A college roommate of Mary, Sandra Sudduth Pratt, said “Nobody believed it was an accident.”
Mitchell shared Mary’s autopsy report with pathologist Dr. Michael Baden of New York City, who concluded that foul play had taken place in her death.
The report showed large bruises with bleeding into tissues on the left side of the neck, which he said suggested she suffered forceful neck trauma before entering the water. There were hemorrhagic bruises to the right calf and left leg above the knee, which he said were consistent with a struggle before her submersion. But most convincingly of all was the scarf authorities found around her neck that extended 4 inches into her mouth, which suggested traumatic asphyxia before entering the water.
“Somebody had to push that scarf into her mouth. She had to have that scarf wedged in her mouth before she was put in the water.”
A cousin put Mary’s brother Will Horton in touch with former detective “Rabbit” Manuel, who had headed up the Calcasieu Parish Sheriff Office’s investigation back in 1962. He had never forgotten Mary’s death. “Felix’s story just didn’t add up. The fishing tackle was dry. The trotline was dry. The boat was dry. Even Felix’s cigarettes were dry, despite him telling the deputies he dove straight in the water to save Mary.”
He and Manuel met with “Lucky” DeLouche, who directed an elite task force unit that investigated homicides. Three young detectives took notes as they talked. Manuel shared details from the case, saying deputies (officers) wanted to prosecute, but the district attorney wouldn’t let them. Horton shared the autopsy report, Vail’s letters and his belief that Vail was a serial killer. Horton said DeLouche replied, “This absolutely fits the profile of a serial killer,” to which the other detectives agreed.
Shortly afterwards, DeLouche left the task force, and for seemingly the hundredth time, grew cold again.
After Mitchell posted a story about Vail titled “Gone” (It’s nearly 9,000 words long, and the precursor to the 35,500 word story I have drawn heavily from) a man named Wesley Turnage contacted him. He told him of a conversation he had had with Vail in 1963 during a car ride.
According to Turnage, Vail called Mary a bitch and said she thought another child would help solve their marriage problems. He quoted Vail as saying, “She wanted to have another kid. I didn’t want the one I got. I fixed that sorry bitch. She will never have another one.”
Mitchell would make another discovery. District Attorney Salter Jr. had ordered that the judge dismiss 882 criminal cases — more than three cases for each working day.
Will Horton told Mitchell the original detectives in the case told him that Salter wouldn’t allow them to present the evidence they had collected against Vail. That matched the stories Mitchell had heard from grand jurors’ families.
Horton then contacted District Attorney John DeRosier, who said he would be willing to reopen the case if there was enough evidence.
Then came an interesting wrinkle in the story. Finding Vail.
He’d disappeared, returning on Labor Day weekend 2012 to sell his property, before disappearing again. Luckily, another reader of "Gone" came to the rescue. He phoned Mitchell, telling him where Vial was. Canyon Lake, Texas.
Mitchell then contacted Enzo Yaksic, founder of the Serial Homicide Expertise and Information Sharing Collaborative. Yaksic then contacted Armin Showalter, acting chief for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, which specialized in serial homicide investigations.
Yaksic shared a copy of GONE with Showalter, who in turn called Calcasieu Parish Deputy Randy Curtis, now taking on the Vail case. Curtis phoned Mitchell to find out where Vail was. A few days later, he called back to say the FBI had discovered Vail purchased property at 737 Shadyview Drive in Canyon Lake.
On Jan. 18, 2013, Curtis decided to confront Vail. He found him at that address, living in a storage shed. Curtis said he read Vail his rights before asking him about the death and disappearances of the women. Vail refused to say anything, accusing families and The Clarion-Ledger (Where "Gone" was published) of lying about him. The whole time, Vail couldn’t stop smirking.
​
Will Horton gave Mitchell the number of his cousin, who was a caretaker for 90-year-old Isaac Abshire Jr. When Mitchell sat down with the man, he shared a haunting story.
Abshire had worked with Vail and offered him a room to rent out. Once Vail and Mary were married, Vail had moved out. Abshire viewed himself as “a big brother” to Mary, calling her “a sweet little girl.”
After the marriage, Vail had become angry at work, talking about how ugly his wife was when she was pregnant, and how he didn’t like his baby. On the Friday before she was killed, the couple visited Abshire, bringing Bill, who was still an infant. Mary privately asked Abshire if he thought Vail could take her baby away.
Two days later, Mary was dead.
Abshire and two other workers went out the next day to drag the river. The next morning, Oct. 30, 1962, he returned with one of them, Jimmy May, to continue dragging.
Abshire said while they were talking, “something popped up. A guy with binoculars asked, ‘Does she have blonde hair?’ I said, ‘Yes, that’s her.’”
They recovered the body, and Abshire could never forget what he saw. Her body was rigid, and a scarf was wrapped around her neck before going into her mouth. Blood boiled on the boat, everyone voicing the same opinion. Vail had killed Mary.
Abshire had kept photos from that day for over 50 years. He said he had given them to Deputy Curtis as well as a copy of the 1962 sheriff’s report, which listed 15 points suggesting Vail’s guilt.
Despite being behind on major bills, Vail had managed to pay an entire year’s premiums in advance for a $50,000 ($150,000 today) life insurance policy on his wife. He had a second life insurance policy on her for $8,000 ($24,000 today), which promised to pay double if she died by accident.
It was almost as if he knew she was about to die.
Deputies had reported witnesses claims that Vail had told them he didn’t love his wife, that she looked stupid and vulgar, and that he had had sexual relations with multiple women, and at least one man.
Vail told deputies that his wife was wearing an off-white leather jacket when she went into the water. But she wasn’t wearing the jacket when her body was recovered. Inside his boat, deputies found two life preservers. Mary had not been wearing one, despite her fear of drowning. As for the trotline the 2 were supposedly running, deputies found it still inside Vail’s tackle box.
Most witnesses the Deputies had spoken too felt that Vail was capable of killing his wife.
When asked if he believed Vail killed his wife, Abshire said “Oh, my God, yes.”
THE CHASE & THE FINAL CLUES:
Ever since Vail had sold his Mississippi property, Mary Rose had wondered if he would eventually sell the Tulsa property, the one she and Annette had lived in. He did. Vail sold it for $149,000. Rose asked the question on the mind of everyone investigating. “What is he going to do with all that money? --- He could be running.”
On April 30th Mitchell got a call saying that Vail had left Texas. He was pulled over by police in Columbus, Mississippi after hopping the fence of his now dead brother Ronnie’s property. Curtis told Mitchell that the Columbus police were sending him a photo of Vail and the white pick-up truck he was pulled over in. He once again warned Mitchell that Vail could be running.
Vail’s sister called again, saying she heard her brother was heading to Montpelier. She wondered if he was driving to the home of possible witness Wesley Turnage.
Mitchell called Turnage to let him know that Vail might be headed his way. Turnage replied “If he sets foot on my property, there won’t be no trial.” He called Mitchell back later, saying no one in Montpelier had seen Vail.
Private Investigator Gina Frenzel, who had questioned Vail herself, including pretending to be his girlfriend, called Mitchell with good news. Vail had contacted her and told her he was back in Canyon Lake. Mitchell informed Curtis.
On May 17th 2012, authorities arrested Felix Vail for the murder of his wife Mary Horton.
In telephone calls from the jail in Lake Charles, he shared his explanation of what happened the night of Oct. 28, 1962, when Mary died.
He referred to his first wife as a “coon-ass lady,” saying she was “half kneeling” on his feet when she “saw one of the float buckets that were on the line.” He said the boat was “going real slow along the edge of the bank when the boat hit a stump ... and it dumped her right out.” Vail said he shut off the motor and dove in “where she had plopped in the water. I mean, nothing. The river had sucked her right in.” He said he “dove around until I was exhausted, and came in immediately to the police station in town and reported the accident and that was it.”
This story differed greatly from his story in 1962 when he said his wife was sitting on top of a boat seat when she fell out, not that she was kneeling on his feet. Back then, he said nothing about hitting a stump — just swerving to miss it.
It also differed from the story he had told his son, where a wave from another boat had dumped Mary out.
Vail told Frenzel that the case “has been an avalanche coming down the mountain all that time, waiting to hit my head, and it finally has.”
He blamed the families and Mitchell, “an evil, shrimpy reporter,” for what had happened, calling the charges “fabricated” and insisting that “a large amount of money, hate and political ambitions are behind them.”
At Vail’s request, Frenzel returned his truck to his home and went inside to take care of a few tasks. While there, she spent 16 hours photographing all his journals, more than 2,400 pages. She also photographed letters, documents, photographs and business cards, some dating back to the 1960s. She found a collection of women’s jewelry, old buttons, pins, and even a glass dildo.
Disturbingly, if at this point unsurprisingly, she found a photograph of a naked 3-year-old girl. Frenzel later spoke with the girl, now a woman. The journals revealed that Vail had stalked her for years.
Frenzel discovered the birth certificate of Annette Craver, who had used it for previous trips to Mexico.
Mitchell and Frenzel poured through the journals she had photographed. They noticed gaps in them that lead them to believe Vail had ripped pages out, including times when he should have been with Sharon and Annette.
His journals were dominated by sex, dreams of sex and reflected an obsession with children. In a March 27, 1986, entry, Vail wrote about the visit of a woman and her daughters in his home. “The little girls were delicious --- We massaged some, hugged & kissed some & it was 12 (midnight) & time for them to go.”
On Aug. 29, 1992, Vail walked into the Wal-Mart in West Point, and as he wrote in his journal “a 1-year-old white girl looked in my eyes loving me like there was no age difference between us.”
When Mitchell interviewed Kert Germany, a co-worker of Vail in 1977 he said that Vail attracted women wherever he went, and that Vail had told him the best sex of his life had been with 2- or 3-year-old girl.
It was that this time that Alexandra Christianson, Vail’s ex-wife called Mitchell and told him her story. She also put him in contact with Bruce Biedebach, the man she had been on a date with when she left with Vail. Biedebach would tell Mitchell that during a party in 1965 that turned into a “boast-fest” Vail had boasted about something he had done, that no one else had done.
Killed his wife.
He told the men at the party that he had held his wife’s head underwater until she drowned.
Biedebach then put Mitchell in contact with Rob Fremont, who had bicycled around California with Vail when he was 13. He said that while riding with Vail, he had told him that he hit his wife on the head and drowned her. Fremont never rode with him again after that.
With as much evidence as they could possibly gather, the case went to trial.
THE TRIAL:
Vail’s trial began on August 8th, 2016.
District Attorney John DeRosier laid out the evidence clearly.
He spoke of the evidence against Vail about Mary’s murder on October 28th, 1962.
He spoke about Vail swearing to Sharon Hensley’s mother that she wanted to start a new life in 1974.
He spoke about his letters to Mary Rose, telling her he wouldn’t tell her where her daughter Annette was “even if he knew.” Vail smirked at that one.
Finally, he spoke to the jurors.
“Mary Horton Vail is gone, Sharon Hensley is gone,” DeRosier said, “and Annette Craver Vail is gone.”
“You’re going to write the last chapter, and it’s simply going to read, ‘And justice was finally done. William Felix Vail, guilty as charged.’”
Prosecutors called all three families to testify.
Will Horton told jurors of his sister, “Mary was the kind of person you would want as a friend.” He broke while talking about visiting his nephew after he death in 1962. “I just wanted Bill to know how much his mother loved him.”
Brian Hensley told jurors that he last saw his sister, Sharon, with Vail before the pair left Bismarck, North Dakota, in 1972. Other than a telephone call and letter in the months that followed, he said no one had seen or heard from her since.
When Mary Rose took the stand, Vail bowed his head.
This was the woman who had been working for 32 long years to bring him into this court.
This was the mother who had waited 32 years for this moment.
She called Annette “a huge light in my life. We were always loving toward each other.” She testified that Vail ran off with her daughter on his motorcycle and married her. She testified that Annette, who inherited nearly $100,000 and received two homes, disappeared weeks after deeding those homes to Vail.
Wesley Turnage, Rob Fremont, and Bruce Biedebach swore under oath that Vail said he killed his first wife. Biedebach said he asked Vail if Mary was a bitch, to which Vail had said yes. Vail laughed in court as he told the story.
The current coroner, forensic pathologist Dr. Terry Welke, testified that in most drownings, the body comes up in a “dead person’s float,” with the back of the head surfacing first and the limbs hanging down in the water.
After sharing a series of pictures to show it, he showed the court two black-and-white photographs of Mary Horton when her body was recovered on Oct. 30, 1962, less than two days after she reportedly drowned. Her body was stiff, with her hands over chest as if she was in a coffin.
They also saw the videotaped testimony of Isaac Abshire Jr, who had died in 2014. He said her body was stiff when it surfaced either sideways or face up when she bobbed up in the Calcasieu River.
That testimony helped contribute to Welke’s homicide conclusion. So did the unbroken grease-like stain across her Chi Omega sweatshirt, which he believed could have come from a tarp covering her. Welke concluded Mary was dead and stiff before her body went into the water, explaining why rigor had set in.
Testimony was heard of Vail not paying for his own wife’s funeral, despite having made thousands from her life insurance.
THE VERDICT
The jury didn’t even take a half hour to reach their verdict.
William Felix Vail Sr was unanimously found guilty of murdering Mary Horton. He was sentenced to life in prison.
After the verdict, the prosecutor also revealed that the FBI had found out that Vail had molested a child over 30 years ago. They were unable to put him on trial for it, as the statue of limitations had passed.
Finally, nearly 54 years after she was murdered, Mary Horton had found justice.
Finally, 42 years after her disappearance, Sharon Hensley had found justice.
And Annette Craver, with the help of her mother Mary Rose’s tireless efforts, had finally found justice after 32 years.
https://content.api.news/v3/images/bin/f75084c7dce4fb08e12e45ccba5e40a1
This a photo of Mary, Sharon and Annette. I felt it was fitting to end off with. May they all rest in peace.
MY SOURCES:
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/8284?nav
https://charleyproject.org/case/annette-michelle-craver-vail
https://www.clarionledger.com/story/news/local/felixvailgone/2016/12/29/felix-vail-gone-one-wife-dead-two-other-missing-jerry-mitchell/95895894/
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/5796622/mary-elizabeth-vail
https://charleyproject.org/case/sharon-hensley
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/20525?nav

0. The Cosmic Judge and the Delivery Man
Thomas Morell, stepped through the transit gate with a yawn, cradling an oversized GUPS box in his arms. The large box impeded most of his view, but as the transit gate snapped shut behind him, Thomas noted that something was clearly amiss with his destination.
Looking down, he saw that his boots were buried in black ashes. The air tasted stale and dusty. Thomas lowered the box slightly and saw that he was standing amidst desolate ruination, a landscape ravaged by an unknowable cataclysm that had devastated planet Sintash.
"Well," he muttered with airy enthusiasm rivaled only by the charisma of a drying doormat. "This is just peachy."
Like a protagonist in search of plot, Thomas slowly meandered over to a charred, half-incinerated wall which, upon close inspection, yielded the faint inscription of "12/5 Stafford Street."
Obeying the bureaucracy of his vocation, functioning mostly on autopilot mode Thomas situated the cardboard box amid the pile of blackened ashes. As if that wasn't enough, he lovingly placed it adjacent to a wide-open hole that bore an uncanny resemblance to a doorway completely devoid of a door. Satisfied at last, Thomas captured a photograph of the tragically uninspired arrangement with his wrist bracelet device.
"Package confirmed at delivery location," the omnipresent voice of his wrist companion chimed with far too much cheerfulness which seemed completely out of place in the currently apocalyptic circumstances.
Thomas exhaled tiredly as he stood amidst the debris of cities, oceans, trees, and, indeed, the now vaporized dreams of the former denizens of Sintash, all reduced to elemental carbon. His shoulders slumped. He was there simply to deliver the package and not to ask questions, he reminded himself. Whatever happened here was far too big for him to deal with. He would have to file a report about this issue when he got back and someone more important would have to deal with this mess.
“Please obtain the signature of the recipient,” the bracelet on the delivery man's wrist suddenly chimed with a feminine voice.
“Recipient is not available,” Thomas deadpanned.
“Have you tried knocking?” The merry voice of the bracelet prodded him on.
“There’s no door to knock on,” Thomas replied. “Lizz, I’m pretty sure that everyone on Sintash is dead.”
“Please knock on the door and attempt to acquire a signature,” his robotic companion insisted.
Thomas rolled his eyes, stepped through the ashes and knocked on the blackened wall. The wall wobbled ever so slightly and careened forward. Thomas jumped back just as the last remaining wall of 12/5 Stafford Street fell and shattered into dust and cracked bricks.
“There’s nobody home,” Thomas insisted. “On account that everyone on the bloody planet is bloody dead! Portal me back, you stupid AI, I'm not getting paid overtime for this shit.”
“Please remain calm,” Lizz recommended. “Allow the recipient some time to approach the door.”
A 5 minute timer flashed on the delivery man’s bracelet with an animated picture of an old person walking down a stairwell.
Thomas gritted his teeth. The way Lizz was acting was entirely his fault. Normally the AI system was highly intelligent and understood emergency situations like this, but he had used her to pass the boredom in the exactly the wrong sort of ways which was frowned upon by the Good Directorate corporation. His repeated advances and numerous attempts to go around the AI’s censorship filter had kicked the filter to the highest possible setting which in turn made Lizz stupider than a potato.
Thomas sat down on the ash covered steps and stared at the desolate landscape waiting for the timer to clear.
He spotted something ambling in the distance towards him, which made him exceptionally nervous as it approached.
The thing ambling towards Thomas could be best described as a stick figure, an impossible, vaguely person-like thing that was decidedly not human.
“Emergency situation!” Thomas yelled into the bracelet. “Gate out!”
“Please allow the recipient some time to approach the door. A signature is required for this package,” Lizz said, ignoring the rising panic in the delivery man’s voice.
At that moment, Thomas regretted using the "emergency situation" routine to portal to the Skeleton Coast of Africa for his lunch breaks.
“Fuck my life,” Thomas hissed as the freaky stick figure drew closer to him. It didn’t have a face or a head. A thin, two-dimensional pyramidal structure sat atop of the two dimensional neck. It wobbled and folded into itself akin to an infinite fractal. It had three legs, moved more like a spider and an indeterminate number of whip-like, flickering arms.
“Please do not swear,” Lizz commented. "Your behavior is unfitting that of a Good employee."
Thomas had nothing on him, nothing in the pockets of his GUPS uniform except for a pad with a digital pen. He had no weapon to fight off whatever abomination was ambling towards him through the ashes. Sintash was supposed to be a perfectly mundane delivery! It was a terraformed, perfect, manufactured world with no wars, no predators, no diseases, no parasites and definitely no whatever the hell that thing was!
Feeling dread rising in his chest Thomas tore the enormous package open, hoping that something inside would aid him.
[Thank you for buying the world-end survival kit!] A letter declared within the box.
“Yes!” Thomas growled. His eyes went lower.
[Contents: 2000 dry meals, just add water.]
Thomas reached into the box, his hand automatically pulling out a single plastic bottle containing dry powder. The stick figure abomination was almost upon him. He threw the bottle at it.
The hand of the stick figure shot through the air and grabbed the bottle with unnatural, uncanny grace. It unscrewed the cap and shook the dry contents, absorbing them with its fractal-pyramid face.
Thomas fished another bottle out and held it in front of him like a lifeline, not sure what to do next. He didn’t understand what he was even looking at. The entire stick figure was composed of… something inexplicable, akin to constantly moving ferromagnetic fluid that rapidly folded into itself. The sight made his eyes water.
“What are you?” He uttered as he watched the stick figure finish devouring the powder.
“I am Zedix̶̪̘͐̕ͅx̴̖͓͎̾̓͂į̶̍͝s̷̪̅̏s̶̬̘͛̕h̸̨͖͖͑̽̌t̴̪͉͘ą̶̹̓͂͝v̵̧͇͔̂͋i̴̛̮͆͝b̷̬̝̥̍a̴̼̮͒r̷̢̗̺͋ư̸̱̬͈̔s̸̡̝̫̗̭̋͐͗̑͆ǐ̶͇̝͝a̶̹͛͒̚h̸͙͓̓̽͋͠,” the answer came.
The end of the sentence was made from incomprehensible sounds that reverberated inside the skull of the delivery man, giving him a blinding migraine. Thomas tried not to heave, his mind unable to process the name for a few seconds.
“I’m… urhgh. I don’t think that I could repeat that,” he said finally. “I’m… going to call you Zed, if that's alright with you.”
“Ṯ̷̆h̴̨̊i̷̥̾s̴͔̈́ ̸̂͜i̸̱̾s̸̼̿ ̴̟͘a̴̢̍c̷͙͘c̷͚͐ē̶͖p̷̡̒t̵̺͛a̸̱̍b̵̢̿l̴͙̄ę̷̆,” the fractal stick figure rambled, its voice made from static and a million other voices and sounds that clashed with each other in a barely-comprehensible cacophony.
“What are you?” Thomas repeated his question, trying to put his best 'first contact' face on. “An… alien? Some kind of machine? An AI that survived? You sound… freaky. It’s… exceptionally difficult for me to understand you.”
“I am an echo of the cosmic boundary of the song of the stars,” the thing repeated in Thomas’ own voice. "Using this limited method of vibrational communication and dimenshionality, I am what your fellow multicellular kin could best describe as the observer causality event horizon paradox manifestation."
“Marginally better, even if I have no idea what any of that means,” Thomas sighed. “Although... I would prefer you not using my voice.”
“Please attempt to acquire a signature from the recipient one more time,” Lizz chimed from Thomas’ bracelet.
Thomas put the bracelet on mute mode.
“Is this better?” the stick figure asked in the overly-cheerful voice of Lizz.
“Good enough,” Thomas nodded, trying not to stare at the folding fractals that made his head hurt. “What happened here?”
“I happened,” the stick figure being replied. “The denizens of this world that called themselves the Portal Management Research Institute created a microscopic white hole, through which I stepped into this plane. I have judged the local life and found myself beset by containment barriers which disagreed with my existence. I have obliterated all organic life on this cosmic sphere as I have judged it... bothersome.”
“I… see,” Thomas rubbed his scruffy beard. “Now what? Are you going back into the white hole?”
“That is not how white holes work,” Zed said.
“So... you’re stuck here?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.
“Affirmative,” Zed affirmed. "I shall persist here until the white hole comprising my core burns away."
"How long would this take?" The delivery man asked.
"Approximately one hundred of your years," Zed replied. "Unless I vaporize an entire planet's worth of organic life daily."
“How do you know how to speak English?” The now somewhat less nervous GUPS delivery man asked.
“I have studied the remnants of your communication devices,” the stick figure replied.
“Fair enough,” Thomas nodded. “What’s your plan now?”
“I am currently judging you, human,” Zed said.
“And?” The delivery man arched an eyebrow.
“I find you acceptable,” the fractal stick figure commented.
“That’s nice,” the delivery man exhaled. “I’m Thomas.”
“I find you acceptable, Thomas,” Zed repeated. “You shall serve as my emissary across the local cosmos as I judge all that I see.”
“What do I get out of it?” Thomas asked, sensing that he’s just been inadvertently burdened with some sort of an incomprehensible mission, which would likely result in the genocide of countless inhabited worlds.
“What do you desire in exchange for serving as my emissary… Thomas?” Zed asked, the cheerful female voice which the cosmic abomination now used clashing with its grand declarations.
Ideas rushed through the head of the GUPS delivery man. Wealth, power, love, immortality? What could this cosmic, alien judge even provide him? Was he really willing to become the Silver Surfer, a herald for a Galactus-like alien abomination that could end planets with a snap of its fingers?
Thomas opened and closed his mouth struggling for words. He felt that if he screwed this up, pissed Zed off like the people in charge of Sintash, all of humanity could face extinction.