#are they still away in fucking portugal and sweden or whatever or are they back finally

[starboymp3]

sigh dear diary its been 264527854 days without new real carson coma content i have forgotten what joy feels like i have forgotten the taste of food i cant recall the sound of water nor the touch of grass

[hetalia-text-messages]

Psst, hey you

Yeah, you! Are you trans? Where do you live? America, England, France, Portugal, Sweden, somewhere like that? I need to tell you something.

Leelah Alcorn died when I was fourteen years old. I had my doubts of my gender at fourteen years old. Her story angered me. Not because she was trans, of course not, but because she had to go through that. I knew it wasn’t right, but why did I care so much? How did it affect me? I already knew I wasn’t as straight as I thought I was, and I cared about the LGBT+ community (transfolk are a part of it fucking fight me) because I was one of them. I know I would’ve cared even if I was straight because I’m a “caring person” according to other people or something, whatever helps them sleep at night.

I saw Leelah as someone like me in a way. Sure, sexuality and gender are completely different things, but they’re grouped together a lot. I thought about my life up until that point. I wasn’t like some of the “typical” girls, I had a toy toolbox full of tools and I loved insects. Nothing wrong with that, that alone doesn’t make someone a boy or a lesbian or something. I had “girly things” too, but it was always great to just find worms and race snails and hold frogs and raise their tadpoles and get dirty outside.

I thought “damn I really am a tomboy aren’t I lol”, but it didn’t seem right. That wasn’t the right word for it, I needed something else. I can’t remember the first time I actually heard the term “transgender”, since my family didn’t really teach me about sexualities and genders. It was when I made hetalia-text-messages and got a couple trans requests that I broadened my knowledge. You guys are the ones who taught me.

I had a fleeting thought that maybe if I were a boy my name would be Adam or something. I pretended I didn’t think about it a lot. I lied to myself and other people for years about my real feelings. I wrote a fanfic with a trans character after doing a lot of research because you can’t afford to get a single thing wrong when dealing with sensitive topics like this. My story was praised, even though it probably wasn’t that great.

I was a Freshman in the GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance) Club when I was told an acquaintance wasn’t Cindy (not real name changed it for privacy) anymore, he was Michael (also not real). I was curious but too scared to ask, plus it seemed rude. I just nodded and tried my best to remember. It didn’t take long at all and I rarely slipped up. It seemed so easy to switch between the names and pronouns.

An old crush of mine from middle school (who came out as gay in the eighth grade) said they were genderfluid next, and to call them a different name. I had to look that one up. I ran into them a couple weeks ago after years of not seeing them. They looked happy and recognized me right away. I’m glad.

So I gradually began just...hating what I saw. I don’t have the largest chest, so I thought I’d be upset about that. I got upset because they weren’t even smaller. That seemed odd. Yeah, some girls were uncomfortable that they were bigger than they wanted, but this felt different. I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror. I’ve never really found myself attractive or loved my body image, so shoving some new thing that I later found out was gender dysphoria on top of that made it worse and confusing.

TMI warning, it’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I didn’t realize how little I knew until I only JUST RECENTLY found out what a dick looks like. I’m not kidding, seriously. I had never watched porn or looked at real pictures because that thought was dirty. I didn’t want one of those down there, but I didn’t really want what I had currently either.

I voiced my concerns to my friend once, who told me I may just be confused and tumblr was getting to me. I agreed and pushed it as far back into my mind as possible, so far I forgot it almost entirely. It wasn’t the best thing to do, but I was scared. I act like things don’t scare me, but nothing scared me more than thinking I was wrong.

More trans requests came in, I even made hetalia-trans-text-messages for them. Someone asked me if I was trans after I did so many, and I said no. I was lying through my fucking teeth and I probably knew it. I’m sorry I lied. I lost interest in what I was doing with the blogs and stopped ignoring the thought. I came out very publicly on the main blog at seventeen years old, I believe. One friend, Allen, already knew since he was going through the same thing, but that’s how the other friend from earlier found out because I was too much of a coward to tell her. She accepted me. My third friend never truly did, but he pretends.

It was December of that year when I decided to start the process of transitioning. I was eighteen when I got a pixie cut, surprising my parents. Around Christmas I was trying to come up with a name. I wasn’t really feeling Adam anymore, and definitely not Anna. I don’t HATE my birth name, it’s just Anna is a little more girly than I liked. I settled on Aaron after the Key and Peele video Substitute Teacher, then moved on to my middle name. It starts with a D, and there didn’t seem to be any good ones out there.

“I’ve changed my name a couple times so you don’t have to necessarily decide right now,” Allen told me.

I knew very well and just started to think about The Beatles instead. A lot of people hated Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, but I thought it was a fun and catchy song that I loved to sing. Desmond has a barrow in the marketplace, Molly is the...

Wait.

“Aaron Desmond.” It was late at night, and no one heard me. “My name is Aaron Desmond.”

You probably saw that I eventually came all the way out since I was freaking out so badly on here, ha. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was, I was a boy. I got a binder and “male” clothes. I think about testosterone a lot as well as legally changing my name, and top surgery. Bottom surgery not so much, I’m young and have time to think about it. Dicks are still kinda weird. I’ve been using the men’s bathroom in public, it’s a lot easier than I expected. Just act like you belong there and no one says anything for the brief moment they see you.

I asked about the countries in the beginning because there are certain ways this topic is viewed. No matter where you are, no matter what laws or rules the place has, YOU ARE VALID. You are valid, and that’s all there is to it. Other people don’t have the right to tell you how you’re supposed to feel, only YOU know how to feel. It’s your damn business and anyone who incorrects you is a jerkface. And I can wear makeup and the occasional dress if I want to because that’s how I roll and that doesn’t make me a girl.

Leelah Alcorn, you helped me discover who I am, and I am grateful. I just wish it didn’t take your death for me to realize all of this. You’re beautiful, Leelah. You look better than me when I was a girl. Rest in peace.

I’ve talked long enough, just know I’m always cheering for you guys. You’re safe here. I want you to know that. You’re all beautiful. You MATTER. Listen to me, you fucking matter. YOU FUCKING MATTER, YOU ARE NOT WORTHLESS OR WRONG OR BROKEN. You matter to me, and I hope for some that’s enough. There’s no dumb reason to keep going, they’re all important because you are alive.

You will be found.

[borisbubbles]

EUROVISION 2018 #5 & #4

05. SWITZERLAND ZiBBZ - “Stones” 32nd place

~*Wild Jokah On A Gole Froam*~

Yanking away the top NQ slot in this year’s ranking is, of course, everybody’s favourite Sibling alliance, ZiBZZ!! 

As you know, I looooooooove mental health awareness songs, and I particularly love those with approaches that work (*cough* NOT “Goodbye” *cough*). While most of these songs are doused in motherly, cloddlesome tones, “Stones” doesn’t beat around the bush and argues that one must confront their fears HEAD-ON. 

To transliterate the (ridic, amusing) lyrics into Common English: 

“People have always been shitbags and have treated others like crap for aeons and there’s nothing I can do about it because people won’t fucking change.. SO fucking WHAT? Why would let those assholes affect my present and future the same way they’ve influenced my past? Fuck that noise. It’s time to let the inner demons rest, grow as a person AND help others get out of the deep end while doing so.”. 

Holy fuck what an epic Truth BOMB, I can relate to all of that scalding hot tea. The best way to get around depression, anger and frustration *is* to 1) remove you from the toxic environment 2) find kindred spirits and support each other 3) find the courage to leave your past behind and build a future for yourself. Mental health is a BATTLEFIELD that HITS YOU with its best shots (did I just ref Pat Benatar twice? 🤭) while you’re struggling and “Stones” acklowedges this reality so hard. About fucking time someone lit the flares of ferocity to stand up against BULLYING and HATE. ALL HAIL COCO the ZiBB, FIRST OF HER NAME, THE UNDUN, MOTHER OF FLARES, KHALEESI OF THE DOWNTRODDEN, NON-THROWER OF STONES, BREAKER OF TABOOS, QUEEN OF THE HURT, TORMENTED AND BROWBEATEN. 

Ain’t the only one who don’t wanna throw stooooooooooones

But of course, message alone isn’t enough to get such a high ranking, but fortunately ZiBBZ delivered musically as well. “Stones” has the perfect type of melody for Eurovision: catchy,  repetitive and accessible, but never boring or tiresome because the arrangement was spot.fucking.on. The horns and tuba’s give the music so much gravitas, the backing AHEMs are excellent  and CoCo’s five-packs-a-day type of gravelly voice adds so much realness to the song. "Stones” as a whole is jarring and complex and succeeds at elliciting the emotional response it aims for. This is my favourite song of the 42, by no small margin. 

And then there’s the staging, which... I have mixed feelings about, not gonnal ie. It saddens me that even at this high a rank I must again resort to critique. I mean, the ACT was great. That motherfuckin’ flare is one of the few goosebump moments I got from this year, Coco is Minerva in a hipster body, Stee is a lovable goof, but... you have this amazing, dynamic song that is capable BLOWING EVERYONE AWAY and it  kinda... doesn’t? 

I would say that “Stones” was mostly hampered by its camerawork, which was mostly AWFUL. Which idiot [Hans Pancake 🙄] is responsible for framing such a powerful, uptempo song with slow, drawn-out shots?

I mean, shots such as this one:

(why didn’t they just focus on Stee??? or the audience?)

and that one:

(You can clearly see Coco throwing away a drumstick at the start of the preformance... Why the faraway shots?? Why no close-ups when she’s drumming happening???? NO ONE CARED ABOUT SANNA’S LIGHT CAGE SO WHY WOULD THEY START CARING NOW??? (seriously, fuck you Hans Culpepper))

This is the reason why “Stones” failed to ensnare the audience’s attention. Wrong people with the right to stage and ZiBBZ can’t do anything about it. I chose to not take it into account when I decided on their final ranking, but it’s sooooo frustrating to see Switzerland FINALLY strike the motherload and fall flat because of some moronic cinematographic decisions. Now watch Switz pick something mediocre and be overrated by the Basics/NQ once again (lol I say this without having listened to the Swiss songs, but can you blame me?). Oh well, ZiBBZ have since moved on to better things -

- and so should we :). Still praying they pull a Poli in five years or so. THE WORLD NEEDS IT

04. SLOVENIA Lea Sirk - “Hvala, ne!” 22nd place

Damn’ this is such a tough decision. Cutting entries loose at this point really hurts y’all.

So as you know, I really, REALLY fucking love Lea Sirk and even said that, in the unlikely event that she qualified, she’d WIN the ranking. However, while I am probably obliged by contract to grant her the first place, I can honestly say that... I like my top three more?  Lea could have easily won this ranking, had my opinions on Elina, DoReDos and Ieva stayed the same; but they didn’t (they went up obvi), so here we are. The above paragraph is just a disclaimer to explain why Slovenia don’t rank higher than they do, because holy fuck this "Hvala, ne!” was awesoooooooooome. Anti-establishmentarian trap-pop that was a shock qualifier and made a flashy gimmick work TWICE <3 There’s a reason why the Good Gays Fanbase (do I include myself in that? hmmm 🤔) have nicknamed it “Hvala Slay!”. 

But first, (-- Julie Chen-Moonves) let’s discuss the PHENOMENON that is Lea Sirk. My love for her predates this contest by several years, from the time when I only knew her as the botty cyborg sidekick to the heiress of the Ravenclaw Empire herself, Tinkara Kovac. 

“KEN U BEE-LIEF ET???”

who happens to be *my* fave of Outstanding Eurovision Year 2014 (Yes, over Conchita, go cry) and is a contender for fave entry of the decade. The Summer of 2014 was a fantastic experience, partly thanks to Lea and I will forever cherish her for that reason. So when this beautiful dubstep fae was selected to rep Slovenia, now sporting a lilac killer braid, a trashbag jumpsuit and a cabal of slut-dropping dance devas of destruction... like *instantly* fanning my proverbial clit right there. It only got better during Lea’s pre-show content, proving her not only cool chick onstage, but off the stage as well. Having a teenage girl crush on Waylon <3 (Confessing this IN FRONT OF A LIVE AUDIENCE WHICH INCLUDED BOTH WAYLON AND HER HUSBAND lmao bless <3). Impersonating Salvador on some Slovene version of the Soundmix Show <3 There’s no way Lea couldn’t deliver in Lisbon.

And “deliver” is underselling what Lea did, holy fucking hell that live was EVERYTHING. It’s hard to even name what the brightest shining star of their performance was, since Slovenia brought an entire fucking galaxy  of them. I’d say the best thing was probably the choreography, which managed to be spellbinding, professional and hilarious all at once.  Lea and her dancers-in-crime put on an amazing, electrifying show, aided by dynamic camerawork and lighting (Take note, Hans Pancake 🙄). 

My personal fave thing about “Hvala ne!” however was that it QUALIFIED BY A COMFORTABLE MARGIN AND WOULD HAVE UNDER ANY POINTS SYSTEM <345871 I love a deserving shock qualifier (see: Albania), but when it happens to a preshow fave of mine that I considered all but doomed (and a contender for last in the semi). . . There are no superlatives in my glossary that can describe the state of elation I felt when Lea was announced as a finalist. Netta might as well cede her trophy because the Eurogaes were the actual winners of this year 💗🧡💛💚💙💜 “Hvala, ne!” more like “HVALA motherfucking SLAYS HATERS” amirite???

Granted “Hvala, ne!” was the same in Lisbon as during the preshow, with only two marked exceptions. One was Lea had added a chorus in shabby Portuguese (”OBRIGADA NAO NAO!!!” <3) which was hilar, and the other was... the break!

Granted the semi break was kinda *blah* to me. “Zomg the music dies riiiiiiight before the bridge how coincidental”. Sure, Jan. Either way, I found it moderately funny, mostly because of the random extras that were clearly being paid by production to oversell it <3 

But the best thing was that it WORKED and brought Lea to the finale where she performed a SECOND break and this one was downright epic. The audience actually sang along with her <3 <3 <3 <3 Two different instances of the same gimmick and making it work BOTH times <3 When will YOUR faves???

I suppose that, at the end of the day, “Hvala, ne!” was an experimental song that you either love or hate. Why anyone would ever hate this radiant nymph is beyond me, but whatever. My ranking, my rules, ya shallow fools. I *loved* this bizarre mix of K-Pop and Hip-Hop, sung in Slovene and Portuguese, (which is the most unique combination of languages ever featured in a Eurovision entry, I’m sure <3), with badass self-referential lyrics that SLAM DOWN musical conformity in a year that was all about rewarding it. In other words PRECISELY WHAT THIS CONTEST NEEDED. You know, there are plenty of countries out there that have never scored a top five in Eurovision and probably never will until they find their monster runaway winner (Lordi, Salvador). I *hope* the next one is from Slovenia. Raiven performing a song by Maraaya, with Lea and BQL as the back-up singers. Come on y’all, let’s make Eurovision Great Again. Hvala, slay, slay, slay, slay

 RANKING SO FAR

04. Slovenia (Lea Sirk - “Hvala, ne!”)

05. Switzerland (ZiBBZ - “Stones”)

06. Germany (Michael Schulte - “You let me walk alone”)

07. Albania (Eugent Bushpepa - “Mall”)

08. France (Madame Monsieur - “Mercy”)

09. Hungary (AWS - “Viszlát nyár”)

10. Finland (Saara Aalto - “Monsters”)

11. Bulgaria (EQUINOX - “Bones”)

12. Denmark (Rasmussen - “Higher ground”)

13. Malta (Christabelle - “Taboo”)

14. Cyprus (Eleni Foureira - “Fuego”)

15. United Kingdom (SuRie - “Storm”)

16. Serbia (Balkanika - “Nova Deca”)

17. Portugal (Cláudia Pascoal - “O jardim”)

18. The Netherlands (Waylon - “Outlaw in ‘em”)

19. Ukraine (MÉLOVIN - “Under the ladder”)

20. Macedonia (Eye Cue - “Lost and Found”)

21. San Marino (Jessika ft. Jenifer Brening - “Who We Are”)

22. Sweden (Benjamin Ingrosso - “Dance You Off”)

23. Austria (Cesár Sampson - “Nobody but you”)

24. Latvia (Laura Rizzotto - “Funny girl”)

25. Azerbaijan (AISEL - “X my heart”)

26. Israel (Netta - “Toy”)

27. Norway (Alexander Rybak  - “That’s how you write a song”)

28. Montenegro (Vanja Radovanovic - “Inje”)

29. Armenia (Sevak Khanagyan - “Qami”)

30. Poland (Gromee ft. Lukas Meijer - “Light me up”)

31. Greece (Yianna Terzi - “Oniro mou”)

32. Georgia (Iriao - “For you”)

33. Belgium (Sennek - “A matter of time”)

34. Italy (Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro - “Non mi avete fatto niente”)

35. Romania (The Humans - “Goodbye”)

36. Ireland (Ryan O'Shaughnessy - “Together”)

37. Croatia (Franka - “Crazy”)

38. Belarus (ALEKSEEV - “Forever”)

39. Russia (Julia Samoylova - “I Won’t Break”)

40. Spain (Amaia & Alfred - “Tu canción”)

41. Iceland (Ari Ólafsson - “Our choice”)

42. Australia (Jessica Mauboy - “We got love”)

43. Czech Republic (Mikolas Jozef - “Lie to me”)

[littlefarmjoe-blog]

Waves                             Copyright 2018, Joe Avery

                                                The author grants permission for this document to be shared only in it’s entirety.

                                                          The author does not consent to allowing any portion to be taken out of context of the whole document.                      

    Excuse me for being naive, I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. Then I learned that by speaking about certain things, I became a target. It took a long time to understand what was happening to me. For more than ten years I have been repeatedly attacked, forced to live like a fugitive on the run, though I have done nothing wrong. These events have been written in chronological order, in the way it all unfolded for me. As time went by, the amount of evidence grew. This is not a story I want to be telling. I know it is likely to stir much criticism, ridicule, and slander against me. None of that matters. Many other people are enduring a struggle that is similar to mine. This is a story that needs to be told.

    For the first twelve years of living on the Missouri farm, there was a calm stillness that I never really thought about until it was overtaken by a strange vibration. I had lived here since 1995, and one night in October of 2007, everything changed. I was immersed in sleep when suddenly I was jolted awake by a weird, vibrating energy. It hit me with intensity. Whatever it was made me sit up in bed, directly out of a deep sleep. It was a low, humming vibration, and I could feel it going through me. It seemed like it was going through everything.

  Instantly I sat up, saying, “What the fuck is that? With my mind racing for a logical explanation, the first thing I imagined was that some heavy machinery was rolling down the road. I thought maybe it was the road grader or a big bulldozer. I looked at the clock, and it showed about two-thirty in the morning. Pulling back the covers, I got out of bed and walked out into the hallway. Then I made my way through the bus. I noticed that the tone of the vibration was not changing in the way you would expect it to, if it was coming from something moving down the road. It stayed at the same tonal vibration as I walked toward the back door of the bus. When I stepped outside and onto the porch, I almost lost my perception of the vibration. The sounds of the wind in the trees, the crickets, and the frogs were making it difficult to “hear” the vibe. Yet as I stood there and focused my mind, I could feel it going through me.

  This weird vibration continued into the next day and for many days that followed. It was disturbing. At random times of the day, I paused and paid attention to decipher if it was still going. Most of the time, it was. There were moments when I didn't perceive it, but it kept coming back. I told other people about it, though no one seemed interested. One day when several people were sitting in the bus, I focused my mind to determine if the vibration was happening, and it was. I asked my visitors, “Do you guys hear that low, humming sort of sound?” They all paused and listened, then they said they didn't hear anything. I explained, “It's not really a sound, it's more of a vibration... a very low vibration.” Still, they didn't notice it. I was baffled and concerned about whatever this was, and it was beginning to really bother me as the days went by.

  Before all of this began, I had been planning to take a trip through Europe for several months. A roofing job in Wichita that summer had earned me enough money to make it happen. So I was at the farm, preparing for my trip when these weird vibrations started happening. As the days went by, I became more concerned about the bad vibes, and I grew more anxious to leave. When I finally left near the end of October, I felt relieved to be away from it all.

  After a few days of Halloween festivities in Lawrence, Kansas, I prepared for a trip eastward. I took a train from Lawrence to Chicago, and another train to Boston. Then I rode a bus to New York City. From there, I flew across the Atlantic Ocean. I spent five months traveling through Sweden, Germany, Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. In April of 2008, I returned to North America, and after some time in New York City, I rode a train to Chicago and another train to Lawrence.

  When I returned to the farm, I did not notice the weird vibration for a while. Eventually though, it became apparent again. Sometimes it would abruptly appear and continue for many hours. Other times, it seemed to be coming in waves, fluctuating between strong and mild vibrations. When people came to the farm, I would ask if they felt the vibes, though they always said they didn't notice anything.

  Then one day I called Frank on the phone. When I told him about the weird vibrations, he asked, “Is it like a low-frequency kind of thing?”

  “Yes! A really low, humming sort of vibration.”

  “I've been getting it for a couple of years.”

  “Really? What is it? What do you think it is?”

  “They're fuckin' with us, Joe.”

  I knew that Frank was speaking of the government, or at least some rogue elements within the government. In my mind, I had already considered that possibility, though I did not want to believe I was dealing with such a thing. I didn't know what it was. I only knew that I definitely felt it. It was really strong at times, vibrating through all of my body, through my skull, my eyeballs, and my organs. It seemed to be going through through all of my cells. Whatever it was, I didn't like it.

  For years I endured this weird vibration, and it always bothered me. Sometimes it was extremely “loud,” feeling like it was penetrating through every fiber in my body. Other times it was more subtle, yet it was almost always happening. Pictures entered my mind: images of government creeps somewhere with their hands on a dial, turning the intensity up and down while pointing electronic weapons at different targets around the world.

  Was I a target? Had I become a target? I began to speculate.

  Early in 2006, I rode with a group of about twenty people as we traveled to the city of Washington, to protest against the war in Iraq. It was cold, winter time. We held our signs outside of the Pentagon as hundreds of civilian and military personnel went into and out of the building. The cops pushed us around, yelling at us to get back off of the sidewalk. They took pictures of us. We also marched around outside of the capitol building with our signs. Some people in our group were arrested.

  Many times during the years of 2006 and 2007, I walked around with a big sign in my hands, which read: “9-11, The government did it.” I carried a sign like that during the Rainbow Gathering in Colorado, in July of 2006. I was handing out websites and information to people. Some law enforcement officers took pictures of me holding my sign. Two months later when September eleventh came around, I paraded with my sign through downtown Lawrence. Irritated that so many people still believed in the “official” version of “Nine-Eleven,” I felt it was my duty to tell the truth. I ended up on sixth street near the river. It was rush-hour traffic with many cars going by. Some people gave me thumbs up, other people cussed at me. One woman drove by, yelling, “You should be arrested for treason!” I laughed and waved as I said, “For exercising my freedom of speech.” A year later, on the eleventh of September, I walked through downtown Wichita with my sign. A strange woman stepped around the corner of a building, lifted a camera and took a picture of me. Then she quickly disappeared.        

In addition to carrying my sign, I was also passing around DVDs containing documentary films about the attacks of Nine-Eleven.

  So I had put myself out there in the streets and on the trails while people had taken pictures of me. And there was Myspace. A friend showed me this website where I could upload my own music, putting it out there for the general public to hear. I thought that was great. Over time, however, I went far beyond sharing my songs. I connected with “9/11 truth” groups through Myspace, posting many articles and documentary films about the false-flag attacks of September Eleventh, 2001. I began to see the internet as a valuable means of sharing information and getting the truth out to people. These things were all happening in 2006 and 2007, in the year or so that led up to my first experiences with the bad vibrations at the farm.

  After one of my trips to the East Coast, I rode a Greyhound bus from New York City to Wichita. We made several stops in New Jersey, and at one of those stops, a peculiar woman boarded the bus. She sat in a seat across the aisle from me, on the right-hand side of the bus, and about four or five seats forward. She turned to look at me for a few seconds, then she turned back toward the front. It seemed weird and out of place. The bus driver announced that there would be a fifteen-minute smoke break at the next stop. When the bus stopped, most of the passengers unloaded themselves out onto the sidewalk, some smoking cigarettes and some going inside the convenience store. I stepped out of the bus, walked past the bench and the smokers, and I went into the store. Wandering down a few aisles, I saw nothing I wanted. So I went out the door, turned right on the sidewalk, and walked past the bench. The woman who had looked at me so intently in the bus, she was now sitting on the bench. The moment I walked by, she held up a camera and took a picture of me. I was fully aware of that as I was stepping up into the bus. It appeared to be a regular digital camera, not a cell phone. Cell phone cameras were not as prevalent back then. Returning to my seat, I felt annoyed that another stranger had just taken my picture. I decided I was going to say something to her when she got back in the bus. But she never did. While all the other passengers had returned to their seats, that strange woman did not.

  Other incidents like this have occurred, though I don't recall some of the details. I do remember a moment when I was in a crowded bus station somewhere out west, high on cannabis, on a layover between bus trips. Suddenly a man walked over to me, held a camera directly in front of my face, took a picture of me, then he quickly turned around and vanished into the crowd. Again, it was a traditional camera, not a cell phone. I remember saying, “What the hell was that all about?” After many encounters like this, it seemed apparent that there was a network of government creeps keeping a watchful eye on outspoken citizens.  

  So, am I a target? Is there some kind of electrical device, a secret weapon that has been getting pointed at me? That's what it has felt like, though I considered other possibilities. Did these weird vibrations have anything to do with the wind farms that are south of the Farm? All of those giant wind generators, anchored deep into the ground, could they be the cause of all the disturbance I was feeling? Were these vibrations coming from those microwave cell phone towers that are east of here? I did not know.

  Many times when the vibes were extremely intense, I felt like I was definitely getting zapped by something. It was difficult to concentrate on working when everything was vibrating. My head and chest, especially, were just humming with these vibrations. Walking around on the farm, I asked, “How can other people not feel this?”

  I felt helpless to do anything about it. Where does a person go with such a complaint? There is no number to call, no complaint form to fill out, and no legal course of action to deal with a disturbing mystery such as this. Most people would never believe or understand any of it. So I lived with it for many years. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of nights, I slept through the constant droning, feeling like there was nothing I could do, and that it was beyond my control.

  In 2011, Jen was coming to visit me on the farm. I had told her about the weird vibrations. Then one night as we lay in bed, she suddenly said, “Hey… I think I feel that vibration you were talking about.” I asked, “Really? You feel that?” She answered, “Yeah... that's weird.” As we talked about it, I felt glad that she noticed it. Finally, someone else had acknowledged this strange vibration in my living space.

  It was depressing, having to endure whatever this was, especially after investing twenty years of my life into this homestead. I had grown fruit trees, blueberry bushes, and grapevines. I built elaborate structures to make everything around here run smoothly, yet many times I felt that I might have to abandon all of it, just to get away from the bad vibes.

  One of the wind farms is about sixteen miles south, sprawling around the town of King City and extending for miles in different directions. Some wind generators are close enough to see through my binoculars. Another wind farm is approximately ten miles to the southwest. Many of those enormous wind generators are out there turning their huge blades, surely causing vibrations in the ground. They are so tall that they must be anchored very deep under the surface. All of them have three spinning blades, and each blade was an entire load on a semi-trailer truck. They are massive. Many times I considered the possibility that they might be the source of the vibrations I had been feeling. I researched information about the wind farm around King City, learning that it first began its operations in the autumn of 2007. Interesting, I thought, because that was when I first started feeling the vibrations. I hoped that was the cause. It was less disturbing than the idea of getting zapped by an electronic weapon. For the next couple of years, I wanted to believe that the weird vibrations were a result of the local wind farms.

  But the theory of the wind farms being the cause was not making any sense. There were days when no wind was blowing, and I could look through my binoculars to see that the wind generator blades were not turning, yet the vibrations would be going strong. Other times, it was windy with the generator blades turning, though the vibrations were not occurring.

  On every occasion when I returned to the farm after being gone for weeks at a time, the vibrations were not happening. For several days after my return, I'd notice that calm stillness that was the norm during my first twelve years of living on the farm. I missed that calm, and I hoped it would stay. After a few days of being home, however, the vibrations would return. This has happened over and over again. I began to notice that the vibrations always seemed to appear within a day after I logged in to my email account or Facebook. Was this just a coincidence? Or was I alerting someone that I was home again, by logging in on a computer? I paid more attention to this, and I began to restrain myself from logging in too soon after returning home. Yet I'd still get on Herb's computer and look at some of the websites I usually visit. Then the vibes would start up again.

  I often talked to Herb about it, and he would suggest that maybe I was hearing the “humming” of the power lines that run along the road where I live. I told him, “I have heard the electrical humming sound you're talking about, and that is not the source of the vibrations. Those power lines were already there during the first twelve years that I lived here, and I never felt the weird vibrations until October of 2007.” As the years kept rolling by, I continued to have bad experiences with all of this, and I occasionally mentioned it to Herb. Over and over again, he would talk about the power lines, and I became more frustrated and annoyed by his continuing response:

  “Those power lines make a humming sound, sometimes.”

  “What I've been experiencing is a vibration, not a sound.”

  “Sound is vibration.”

  “I understand that, Herb. But not all vibration is sound, and these vibrations I'm talking about, I don't hear them with my ears, I feel them in my body.”

  Although I had explained to him on many occasions that what I am feeling is like a beam of energy going through me, vibrating every cell in my body, Herb never seemed to listen.

  There were few people that I ever mentioned it to because most people would not understand what I was talking about. Occasionally someone in Lawrence or Wichita would ask, “How are things at the farm?” Sometimes I mentioned the bad vibes, then I'd find myself going into a long explanation, detailing my experiences with it. Most people have no frame of reference to understand what I was describing to them, and most people appeared to be uninterested. So mostly, I kept it to myself.

  Many nights I could not sleep because the vibrations were too intense. I would drive down the gravel road to Herb's house, attempting to sleep on the extra bed. “Sorry to wake you, Herb. I'm getting zapped way too hard over there.” Yet even as I lay on the guest bed at Herb's house, I could feel the vibrations going through me, almost as strong as they were on the farm. At the farm, the disturbance seemed to be coming from the southeast. Whatever was going through me, it continuously felt like it was coming from the same direction. When I was at Herb's house, it still seemed to be coming from the southeast, although slightly more from the east. Herb lives about a mile and a half to the west of the farm. I began to wonder if the vibrations were coming from the town of Albany.

  Increasingly I became annoyed and enraged about the ongoing disturbance. Trying to work, clean, cook, or do anything was a struggle with the constant humming going through me. I was becoming more angry and irritable, saying, “God damn these fuckin' vibes! What the fuck? How can other people not feel this? This is fuckin' ridiculous! I can't stand this shit!”

  The only time I got some peace was when I left the farm and drove far away from it all. So I left many times, making my escape to Lawrence or Wichita. Sometimes I went to visit Melissa, up near Des Moines. I often told her about my struggles with the bad vibes. She was one of the few people who actually listened and really talked with me about it.

  In April of 2015 I was visiting Luke, down in Lawrence. He had a computer on in the kitchen as he was watching and listening to a broadcast of Democracy Now. It was Tuesday, the 21st of April. They reported on a story about a man named Pedro Albizu Campos, in Puerto Rico. During the 1950's, he was organizing protests against American sugar companies that were exploiting Puerto Rico's sugar cane fields and the people who worked in them. Campos was arrested and spent twenty-six years in prison. He wore wet towels around himself, claiming that he was trying to protect himself from radiation, because the United States Government was pointing an “atomic” weapon at him. He complained of severe headaches and burns all over his skin. Photographs revealed his wounds. Journalists who reported on this case appeared to be laughing at his claims about the U.S. Government. He was being presented as a crazy person who was merely delusional. After his release from prison, other inmates who occupied the same prison cell complained of severe headaches and of feeling like their skin was being burned. Campos continued to wear wet towels after his release from prison, claiming he was still being targeted at his home. After many decades passed, research into declassified documents revealed that the United States Government did, indeed, have a secret weapon that was being aimed at this man. They intended to discredit him by making him appear to be delusional and insane. This was in the 1950s. It is now admitted by the FBI that these things occurred. This was happening more than sixty years ago! It is no far stretch of the imagination to consider the possibility that some kinds of secret electronic weapons are still in use, and with a far greater degree of technology involved.

  As I mentioned earlier, I had spent many years on social media, posting documentary films and articles that expose corruption in the government. First, it was on Myspace, and eventually I was posting things on Facebook. I began to receive the occasional “Log-in alert,” informing me that someone near Richardson, Texas had logged into my Facebook account. So I changed my password. But after a while, I'd receive another alert that someone had logged into my account, again from Richardson, Texas. It happened nearly a dozen times. I also received alerts that my account was logged into from Jefferson City, Missouri, on two occasions. I became annoyed by this, and I began to deactivate my account for weeks or months at a time. Many times I returned to the farm after being gone for a week or more, and I always noticed that the vibrations were not happening. For several days I'd be grateful for the calm serenity. Yet again, when I logged into my email or Facebook account on a computer at Herb's house, the vibrations would start up again. It always happened within a day of logging onto a computer. This fueled my suspicion that I was being targeted and assaulted.

  Frequent headaches tormented me, and I felt that the vibrations were the cause. Also, my guts were churning all the time. Getting the runny shits, I was having to go to the outhouse several times a day. I often said to myself, “They are zapping the shit out of me.” Continuing to work on the farm, I tried to ignore the vibrations. What else could I do? I could leave the farm, as I had done many times before, running and hiding from whatever the disturbance was.    

  Occasionally I would talk about my ongoing problem at the farm, though I only talked about it with people I trusted. Melissa had emailed me some information about wind-farm vibrations. I read of people's complaints, and some of their descriptions of the vibrations were similar to what I had been experiencing. One person described it as “a loud noise that you feel inside your body.” Others complained of headaches and of having trouble sleeping at night. But all the people I read about were those who lived within a mile of wind generators. I was at least ten miles away from the nearest wind farm, though some of the wind towers seem to be closer than that. Could I really be feeling wind generator vibrations from several miles away? Melissa told me that only a small percentage of the population can feel low-frequency vibrations. Again, I tried to believe that the wind farms were the cause of my misery.  

  However, there were many times when I conducted a little experiment while I was getting zapped. I would be standing in any random location on the farm, feeling the vibration going through me. Then I'd quickly run to another random spot, twenty or thirty yards away, and stop. For about two seconds I felt the calm, then the vibes would be going through me again. It was like something was following me, and it took a couple of seconds for it to catch up with me. I did this experiment many times, and I always got the same results.

  In late August of 2015, I escaped to Lawrence to spend my birthday with some friends, and to get away from the bad vibes. One afternoon I went to the library and logged onto my email account. In an email to a friend, I wrote that I would be at the Replay Lounge on Sunday evening, to hear Truckstop Honeymoon play their music on the patio. It would be on the 30th of August. I also re-activated my Facebook account so I could get in touch with a few people. I wrote in a “private” message to someone on Facebook, that I would be at the Replay on Sunday evening. When Sunday arrived, I made my way to the Replay and went in. It was still early, so I decided to go visit Luke, then come back. When I returned, a bigger crowd had gathered as the band was getting ready to play. I went to the front of the crowd. Then I noticed a woman holding a camera with a huge lens attached to it. She was standing near the south side of the stage. Every time she held up the camera, she pointed it directly at my face. I thought that was strange. She was only about ten or fifteen feet away from me, with this gigantic lens. Continuously I watched her, and she never aimed that camera at anyone in the band, nor anyone else in the crowd. Not even once. Every time she held up the camera, she was pointing it directly at my face. I pondered over the many times I had been followed and photographed by creepy people. I also thought about the fact that I had told people, through email and Facebook, that I would be at the Replay Lounge that evening. Then there was this strange woman with the gigantic lens. She gave me the same weird feeling I have always felt whenever I noticed some creeps following or photographing me. She wore a T-shirt which said, “REBEL” in big letters across the front. It looked to me like it was meant to be a part of her fake outfit, in her fed-like attempt to fit in with the Replay crowd. She took multiple pictures of my face, then she left. I wanted to confront her but then I decided to just let it go.

  I returned to the farm. For several weeks I wondered why on earth anyone would need a telephoto lens to take pictures of me from a mere twelve-to-fifteen feet away. Then one day, it all became clear to me. Someone mentioned retina scans and the idea of the government collecting peoples' retina images. Retina patterns are like fingerprints, unique to each individual. I said, “Fuck! That makes a lot of sense. Now they probably have my retina images in some kind of weird data base.”

  It angers me when I think of all of the evil things our government is doing. Yet I often find a certain comfort in knowing that someday we will all be gone. Everyone must die, including all of those government pawns who are doing evil deeds. I wonder how they live with themselves. I wonder how they sleep at night. They seem to have no conscience.

  One evening the vibes were too intense and I had to get away. It was Saturday night, the 26th of September, in 2015. I began to load some things into the van, like my sleeping bag, pillow, drinking water, some bread, and a toothbrush. I drove west and then turned north on another gravel road. I stopped several times along the way, shutting off the engine to decipher whether I was still feeling the vibes. Every time I stopped, the vibes were clearly apparent. When I got to the blacktop road, I turned left and drove west, then I turned right onto another gravel road. I drove up to Poff's pond, several miles from where I live. After parking the van, I was still feeling the vibration. Again, it felt like it was coming from the southeast. Exhausted, I laid down in my sleeping bag and slept through the bad vibrations.

  When daylight arrived, the vibration was still going through me as I went outside to pee in the grass. It was Sunday morning. I got back in the van and drove north on the gravel road to Alan's house, and I parked in his driveway. When I turned off the engine, the vibes were still obvious. I wanted to ask Alan or Trish if they could feel the vibrations that were so apparent to me. As I walked around in the front yard, no one in the house appeared to be awake yet, and I didn't want to bother them. So I got in the van and drove back down the gravel road toward the highway. A car showed up behind me, and the driver seemed to be in a hurry to get around me. As we approached the highway, I pulled over to let that car pass me. Then I shut off the van to determine if the vibes were still happening. They were not. It was the first time in a while that I felt the calm stillness. Half-joking, I said, “Maybe the vibes followed that other car.” I felt relieved to have a few hours of peace before the bad vibes returned in the evening.

  The next day was Monday, the 28th of September. I was working on the second floor of the water-house structure, and the vibes were going strong. Suddenly, the vibrations abruptly stopped. It went from very strong vibrations to completely calm. In that precise moment, hundreds of birds launched themselves up from the nearby trees, just to the east. It was as though they were reacting to the sudden change. The timing was exact, as the vibrations quit and the hundreds of birds went up and out, over the Little Farm pond. They circled around, then settled back into the same trees they had been perched in. I climbed down the ladder and went inside the bus to write about the occurrence in a notebook. This was the first of many entries I began to make as I started keeping a journal of my experiences with the vibrations. While I was writing in my notebook, Herb and Frank rolled up in the north driveway. (I had been using Frank's generator to run some power tools, but it had stopped working, so Frank came over to help me get it running again.) I stepped out onto the porch and started telling Frank what had happened with the birds.

  As we worked on the generator, Frank and I talked about the vibrations. Frank was the only person who had any idea of what I was dealing with, as he claimed to have had a similar experience for about two years. He said, “It felt like I was getting hit with a microwave beam or something.” I replied, “That's what it feels like to me, too.”

  Herb stayed out of the conversation, though he attempted to change the subject a few times. Frank and I continued to talk about the vibrations. Then Herb mentioned the sand plant, four miles to the south, as a possible cause of the vibrations. I reminded him that the sand plant was already in operation for the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, and that the vibrations were not happening during those years. Then he said, “Maybe they got some new equipment.”

  I was growing irritated with Herb's continuing denial of what I was experiencing. He frequently mentioned the power lines, and now it was the sand plant. On many occasions I had described to him, in great detail, all of the things I had been experiencing with the bad vibes. He apparently never listened. If he had been listening and really trying to understand, then he would not keep suggesting ridiculous theories about the probable cause. It became apparent that the thought of anything intentional or sinister was too much for his rational mind to handle, so he would mention the power lines, again and again. It was like he thought my experiences were merely my imagination, and that was beginning to annoy me. It is not, nor was it ever my imagination. I am a rational person who had been trying to understand what these vibrations were, and where they were coming from. I did not want to believe that I was being targeted, yet the notion of electronic weapons became a more rational explanation than any other theories put forth by anyone.

  That same night of September 28th, the vibes came on very strong. I was trying to sleep but I couldn't stand the way I was getting zapped. I wrote in my Journal: Vibe came back strong after 10pm. I am leaving to sleep somewhere else. Maybe in van at Poff's pond.

  Into the van, I loaded my sleeping bag, five gallon water jug, guitar, notebook, toothbrush and toothpaste. I drove down to the Grove and parked in front of Herb's house. The vibes were still going strong. I got back in the van and drove a few miles up to Poff's Pond. When I shut off the van, I could feel the vibes just as much. So I drove back to Herb's house, then back to the farm. More bad vibrations. I was getting extremely irritated with all of this, feeling more and more like I was being assaulted by something, but not knowing what to do.

  Loading a few more things into the van, I decided that I would go all the way up to Frank's house. He was up near Denver, Missouri, more than twenty miles away from the farm. I thought that surely I could find some peace if I drove that far away. Stopping in the town of Gentry, I turned off the van. The vibes were still zapping me. So I drove north on 169, then a gravel road to the east. When I was nearing the corporate hog farm on highway M, I stopped again, shutting off the van to see if the vibes were still happening. They were. Then I drove the rest of the way to Denver, pulled up in Frank's driveway, and parked. When I turned off the engine, I felt the vibes. I was still getting zapped. Laying my forehead on the steering wheel, I felt like crying.

  Frank came outside, saying, “Hey Joe, I was just thinking about you. They're talking about microwave weapons on the radio.” It was about one-thirty in the morning, and Frank had been listening to Coast to Coast, a.m. I got out of the van and told Frank that I was getting zapped hard, and that the vibes were following me.   “I stopped in Gentry, and the vibes were still happening. Then I stopped near the hog farm. The vibes were still going.”

  “Are you feeling it here?”

  “Yes. I could feel it in your driveway as soon as I shut off the van.”

  We went into the house. A woman's voice came through the radio, talking about secret weapons in use by the military. Her name is Annie Jacobsen, and she is the author of such books as The Pentagon's Brain and Operation Paperclip. As Frank and I listened, several people called in to the program, asking about the microwave weapons, so she would then return to that subject.

  When the commercials came on the radio, Frank turned it down and we talked. I told him, “These vibes are weighing heavy on me. I don't know what to do.” Frank said that the woman on the radio had been describing these microwave weapons as the most accurate weapons in use by the Pentagon, and that they can target and track individual people. He told me how they can look through walls with their infra-red technology, and read people's “heat signature.” I asked, “Heat signature?” Frank said, “Everyone emits a unique pattern of body heat, and certain people can be identified by these patterns.”

  Suddenly a few pieces of the puzzle were connecting together in my mind. If I was being targeted, tracked, and followed, then it would make sense that the vibe was still with me as I drove around to all of those different places. If there was some kind of an energy beam or microwave beam being directed specifically at me, then maybe that's why I was feeling it when no one else around me could feel it. And I thought about Jen visiting me, back in 2011. The night she said she felt the vibration, we were lying in bed with our arms and legs wrapped around each other. We were physically as close as two people can possibly be. Perhaps she was feeling some of the vibe that I was getting zapped with.

  As I contemplated these realizations, Frank wondered if he could feel the vibes while standing near me. But he kept saying, “I'm not getting anything.” He spoke of the two years when he felt like he was getting assaulted by something. “I thought it was my neighbor for a while,” Frank said. “I thought he had a microwave dish pointed at me or something.” Frank mentioned that when he was in the navy, he knew of some guys on the ship who would point a microwave communications dish at an unsuspecting sailor and start zapping him. Frank said they did this for fun, pointing the dish at someone they didn't like, then they'd laugh as they watched the guy's reaction. So Frank thought his neighbor had been doing something similar to him. He said that over time, however, he began to suspect that this was some kind of secret weapon being used by the government.

  I told Frank that everything in my life was in question.

  “All these years I have invested my time, energy, and money into my homestead at the Little Farm. I've planted fruit trees and built so many things, and I keep feeling like I'm going to have to abandon it all. Every day I am toiling away, trying to get a roof over the big structure I'm building. But lately I've been wondering, What's the point? What is the point in continuing with any of that stuff if I'm going to keep getting zapped all the time? I can't take this shit anymore.” Breaking down with tears in my eyes, I started crying. I continued talking through my tears, about what I would do. “Maybe I need to disappear from the farm and just roam around the country with a backpack. Maybe I'll go south every winter. I don't know what else to do. I'm not gonna stay at the farm and just keep getting zapped.”

  Frank was trying to figure out a way to ease my sorrow.

  “Joe, do you want me to make you a foil hat?”

  “A what?”

  “Aluminum deflects microwaves. That's why some people wear hats made of aluminum foil.”    I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Sure,” I said, “Why not? I'll try anything.”

  So Frank went into the kitchen and promptly fashioned a foil hat for me. He put it on my head, then I pulled it on for a tighter fit. Frank asked, “Is it working? Do you feel any difference?”

  “I don't know. I'm tired, I wanna crash.”

  “You can sleep in the bedroom. I'm gonna lay on the couch.”

  As I went to lie on the bed, with the vibrations still going through me, I muttered to myself, “There is no way in the world that these weird vibes have anything to do with those wind farms. Fuckin' wind farms couldn't follow me another twenty miles away.”

  When I woke up, it was daylight. I was still feeling the vibes. After I went to pee, I picked up Frank's phone to call Herb. He answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Herb, it's Joe.”

  “Hey, where you at?”

  “I'm up at Frank's. The vibes were following me around last night. I was still getting it in Gentry. Also near the hog farms, and all the way up here in Denver. Those wind farms couldn't possibly have anything to do with this. Wind farms couldn't follow me to Denver. And there was a lady on the radio last night, talking about microwave weapons and other energy weapons that are used by the Pentagon. I am now convinced that I've been getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon.” Herb was saying, “Uh huh, Uh huh...” I could hear the doubt in his voice.

  I drove back to Herb's house, and immediately I felt the vibes. When I got back over to the farm, the vibes were still going. I thought of what Frank had said about aluminum deflecting microwaves, so I went into the aluminum Airstream Trailer to see if I could feel a difference. There were several windows, and I could still feel the vibes near them. Then I found a spot toward the back end of the trailer and I squatted down to the floor. The vibes appeared to diminish. I went back into the bus and wrote my findings in the journal.

  The next day was Wednesday, the 30th of September. I continued writing in my journal: Surprisingly calm today. Have not noticed vibe so far. 2 pm. Wind is from the north and cool today. Highs in the 60's. 4:42pm – Started feeling subtle waves over the past hour. Almost imperceptible.

  1:23 am, October 1st – Feeling vibes in waves. Mild, so far...

  7:56 am – Woke up to the vibes a while ago. Got the wood stove going and went to the shitter. Not noticing the vibe now, because of the sound of the wood stove burning. 10:15 am – Vibes became apparent again, and I went to see if Airstream aluminum made any difference. It most certainly seemed to diminish the vibe. When I was close to the windows, I could feel it more, but when I hid behind the walls blocking the vibes, as I perceive them to be coming from the southeast, it seemed that the aluminum wall diminished the vibe. Feeling the vibe now in the bus. Going to check Airstream again.

  When I returned, I wrote: I'm almost convinced that there is some kind of microwave beam being directed at me from the southeast. Today is my 20th anniversary of moving to the Little Farm. 12:37 pm – Barely feeling vibes now. Almost not there. 12:40 pm WTF! Just felt vibes way stronger. 12:44pm – full on, right near the wood stove. 1:05 pm – Vibes still on.

  Then I wrote: 4:25 pm – About a minute or two ago, a big military-looking aircraft flew over the farm, coming from the east and then turning toward the southwest, just as they were directly over the farm. It was a big, gray aircraft. No markings. The center portion was fat, like a cargo plane, but different. I waved at them as they flew over.

  Every day, I continued to make these kinds of journal entries. October 4th, 7:17 am – Vibe was going strong all night and continues right now. Feels like I am getting zapped, big time. I tried to go to bed last night and vibes were going and I got up and started putting aluminum foil on the walls. Vibes only seemed to increase, like someone was turning up the dial. 8:55 am – Vibe steady and strong and completely obvious. I am taking down the vertical strips I put up last night and putting them horizontally across front wall. Not sure if I will cover front windshield. Could be dark, but better than getting zapped. 12:28 pm – Constant vibration, buzzing in my skull and driving me crazy. Been putting up foil all morning. Just went out to the firewood area and can feel the vibe buzzing my head so much.

  I went over to the Grove and called Melissa on the phone. I told her that the vibes were severely stressing me out. She suggested that we both go somewhere to get away from it. I agreed. I was anxious to get away. Melissa drove down from Iowa and we slept in the bus.

  The next morning I wrote: October 5th, Monday. I wasn't feeling the vibe last night, but upon waking, I did. It has been going all morning. I asked Melissa several times if she feels it, and she says no.

  I started packing Melissa's car for our trip and was feeling frantic about wanting to get away. We had decided to go camping in the Ozark Mountains of Northern Arkansas. When we finally left, I felt a bit of relief with the vibes gradually fading away. As we drove south, I watched the odometer to see how far it was to the wind farm – about sixteen miles. Although we were passing through the middle of the wind farm, the bad vibrations were gone.

  Melissa did most of the driving, and when we got to Fayetteville, we contacted Anna and Joel. They had been staying in a house with their friends, on a beautiful piece of land that was south of town. They fed us some delicious food, and after eating, we all sat on the grass and we talked.

  I told them of my ongoing disturbances with the bad vibrations at the farm, and how I felt like I was being targeted and assaulted by some kind of electronic weapon. I gave them many of the details I have written in this chapter. Joel was sitting to my right, and after some thought, he turned to me and said, “Yeah… I think it's possible they might be fucking with you.” I appreciated Joel's response. Most people wouldn't believe any of it. Anna gave Melissa a few recommendations for places to go camping, then we all said goodbye.

  Melissa drove east as we went to camp in the Steele Creek area. After two nights, Melissa and I returned to that same house, south of Fayetteville. Though all of the residents were gone for the night, Anna had told Melissa that we were welcome to stay there. We slept on the porch, and in the morning we drove to Eureka Springs.

   Anna and Joel were playing music at the Stone House Winery. I sat on the patio with Melissa, drinking beer and laughing at all of the funny things Joel and Anna were saying between songs. They were hilarious, and the music was great. We slept at the home of Anna's god parents, and in the morning we began the long drive back to Northern Missouri. I was feeling much better. We returned to the farm on the evening of Sunday, October 11th. Everything felt calm. No vibrations were apparent, and I didn't want to think about it. We drank a few beers and we smoked some ganja. We talked and laughed while I cooked up some good food. I slept well and felt content.

  The next morning, Melissa and I had a stupid argument over nothing. Feeling angry and annoyed, I wanted her to leave, so she did. As I was shaking off my anger about Melissa, I wondered if the bad vibes would return. Just as they had for the past eight years, the bad vibes returned within a few days after I came home to the farm.

  On Sunday, October 18th, I was working on the water house. The vibe had been going all morning, and it was feeling more intense than usual. I tried to ignore it but it was just too much. As I held a long two-by-four, preparing to carry it up the ladder, I was feeling way too much of the weird energy beam going through me. Stopping in my tracks, I threw the board to the ground and said, “I can't do this anymore.” In that moment, there was a realization that I could no longer live on the farm. I had to get away from the vibe, and I began to think of the steps I would have to take before I could leave. I was about to start packing things into the van, then I remembered all of the aloe vera plants that needed to be brought over to Herb's house for the winter. While loading aloe plants into the van, I was coming to grips with the realization that my time at the farm could be at an end. I thought of all the years I had toiled and struggled to make this homestead happen, and now I might have to abandon it all. Suddenly I was crying. A deep sorrow washed over me as I gathered all of the potted aloe plants.

  With tears running down my face, I drove to the Grove. As I rolled up near Herb's house, I saw that Chaz and Al were there. Chaz was helping Herb work on one of his tractors. I pulled over on the left side of the road and got out of the van. Opening the back hatch, I asked, “Who wants an aloe vera plant?” Al walked over and said, “I'd be interested.”

  “Go ahead and pick one or a few of them.”

  “How about the two big ones?”

  “Well...  How about one of the big ones, and one or two of the smaller ones?”

  He took two plants and I closed the hatch.

  When Herb walked over to me, I began telling him that I had to get away from the farm. I was crying again as I tried to speak:

  “I've been getting zapped over there for way too many years, and I can't take it anymore. I have to leave. I can't live around here anymore. All these years, I've been working so hard to make things happen, and I just feel like I have to walk away from it all. I mean… What's the point? What is the point of trying to continue with anything over there if I'm just gonna keep getting zapped all the time?”

  Chaz and Al were only a few yards away, and I'm sure they were hearing everything I was saying. I didn't care what they heard or what they thought. I was telling Herb that I had to leave.

  Herb said, “Come here and listen to this over here,” as he coaxed me over to one of the power line poles across the road. Herb started telling me how it was making so much noise in the morning. But as we stood there, it was totally silent. Herb continued, “Boy, it was sure making a loud hum this morning.” Tears were still dripping down my face as Herb again tried to convince me that the power lines had something to do with my misery. Standing underneath the silent power line, I was still feeling the bad vibrations going through me. I didn't mention that to Herb. It was pointless. I walked back across the road, up the porch steps and into the house.

   I picked up the phone to call my sister. After dialing Anne's number, I got her answering machine, so I left a message. Then I called my other sister. Liz answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Liz.”

  “Joe, what's wrong?”

  “Well, my goodness. How did you know?”

  “You sound really sad, I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I am really sad. I'm sad that I can't live at the Little Farm anymore.”

  I broke down into tears again.

  Liz asked, “Why? Did someone tell you that you couldn't live there anymore?”

  “No, it's nothing like that. Herb likes me, and I am totally welcome to stay on the farm. It's just that…” I tried to formulate my words before I unloaded the entire story onto Liz.

  “For the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, there was a calm and a stillness that disappeared in 2007. It all started one night in October of 2007. This weird vibration came along and woke me up in the middle of the night. I could feel it going all through my body. It's like a really low, humming sort of vibration, and it just goes through the walls, and it goes through everything. It has stayed around for all of these years and it's been irritating me ever since.”

  “Did you ever find out what it was… or what it is?”

  “For a lot of years I wondered if it was related to the wind farms, but I eventually concluded that it wasn't. I also thought it might have something to do with the microwave cell phone towers to the east. I've often thought that it was some kind of electronic weapon that was being pointed at me. That's what it has always felt like. It's like a beam of weird energy being directed at me. It's almost like a mild, electric shock, but different... like there are billions of electrons vibrating through me.”

  I told her of the years I had been trying to raise awareness about corruption in the government.

  “I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The government did nine-eleven.' I spent years posting about it on Myspace and on Facebook. I protested at the Pentagon. There were often strange people who took pictures of me. Basically, I made myself into a target. Most of those things were happening in 2006 and 2007, in the years leading up to my first encounters with the bad vibrations. The government is messing with me. They have been messing with me for a long time. Whatever has been happening, it causes me frequent headaches. I can feel it messing with my intestines and giving me the runny shits.”

  I continued to cry and talk as Liz patiently listened.

  “All those years I was posting controversial information on social media and carrying signs... I don't know if I made any difference, as far as raising awareness. I don't know if I made any positive changes in the world, but I do know that I drew attention to myself, and I became a target. But there are a lot of people out there who are raising awareness and exposing government corruption. Are they all being targeted? Are they all getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon? I wonder about the Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth, and people like Richard Gage or David Ray Griffin. Are they getting zapped?”

  I went on about the evils of government, of continuous war for profit and control. I spoke of all of the false flag events that continue to happen around the world, and how it is our tax dollars paying for it all. “These people in shady positions in government, doing all of these horrible things – they're evil!” Liz agreed with me, that there is much evil hiding behind the walls of government. A loud “click” sound came over the phone. I asked, “Did you hear that? That click sound?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I always assumed that they read our emails and listened to phone conversations, long before Edward Snowden told us that they do those things. But with today's technology, I don't know why we would even hear any 'click' sound for someone to be listening to, or recording our conversation. And if they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything! I'm not breaking any laws or hurting anyone. I'm just trying to grow some fruit trees and build a homestead. I wish they would leave me alone!”

  As I finished saying that, I was crying again. Liz offered me her sympathy.

  “It sounds horrible, Joe, what you are going through. I'm going to pray for you, and I'll have all of my kids pray for you, too.”

  “Thanks, Liz. You know I'm not religious, but I do believe in the power of prayer. And you have so many kids, too. So that's some powerful energy.”

  I felt much better after talking with Liz. It was good to tell someone my story, and to not feel like I was being judged or ridiculed. Liz listened and she gave me some feedback without doubting my story or my experience of it all.

  When I returned to the farm, everything felt calm as I slept through the night. When I woke up, it was still calm. Several days passed with no bad vibrations happening. I continued to make an occasional journal entry, though there was nothing to report. Everything stayed calm. I was relieved. I felt that my conversation with Liz had an impact. Perhaps the prayers of Liz and her children had something to do with the relief I was feeling. Beyond that, I felt that who ever was listening to our phone conversation, they must have really heard me, especially the part when I said, “If they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything!” I thought that perhaps someone who had the authority to make a certain decision may have given an order to stop attacking me with whatever kind of electronic weapon I was being assaulted with.

  The days of calm turned into weeks of calm, and I was beginning to feel that my troubles with the bad vibrations were over. Every once in a while, I felt a slight vibration of something, though it was nothing like the ongoing assault I had become so familiar with. After the many years of paying close attention, “listening” for the vibrations, I had become much more aware of my own inner vibrations. I could feel my heartbeat and my pulse with much more clarity than I ever had in the past. There were times when I thought I was feeling a bit of the vibe, but upon further “listening,” I'd realize that I was actually feeling my own pulse and the gush of blood that flows with every beat of my heart. I quickly deciphered the difference, as there was really no comparison. The vibe that had been tormenting me for all of those years was much more pronounced, very strong, and extremely disturbing. There was no denying the existence of the vibe when it was full-on.

  Whatever vibrations I encountered during this time of calm, they were minuscule in comparison to the previous conditions. Sometimes it was merely the vibration of a truck driving by, half a mile away. If you pay attention to these things, you will notice the subtle vibrations that often occur all around you.

  Things continued to remain mostly calm around my place, but then one morning, I woke up to the vibes again. I began to feel a sense of panic, feeling that this was going to continue ruining my life. I wrote in my journal: Sunday, November 15th – THE VIBE IS BACK. I felt it hours ago while sleeping. Woke up to it. Very subtle, mild. But most definitely going.

  Down in the Grove, I phoned Liz, telling her, “For about four weeks, I didn't feel much of anything until today. When I woke up this morning, the vibe was happening again.”

  Liz told me that she had forgotten to keep praying for me. Again, she said that she and her kids would pray for me. I hung up the phone and wondered if I could feel the vibe. I wasn't feeling it in Herb's house. When I went back over to the farm, it was calm again. No vibrations. I breathed a sigh of relief, telling myself to focus on the calm and serenity. I didn't want to give any thought to the bad vibes. Over the next several days, I enjoyed the relaxing feeling of the calm stillness.

  I thought about the creepy government people who read our emails, and I decided to send them a message, so I sent an email to myself:

 To whom it may concern:

 Dear Feds, please stop zapping me with whatever you have been zapping me with. I am not doing anything wrong, I am not breaking any laws,* and I am no longer trying to inform people about government corruption. All I want to do is grow my fruit trees and build my farm structures. Please stop with the electronic harassment and assault. It has been eight long years that I have endured the wrath of your secret electronic weapons, and I am wishing, hoping, and praying that you will end all of that and leave me alone. Don't you have bigger fish to fry? I am just a simple farmer and occasional musician. Please let me be.

Thank you for reading my emails.

    (*Actually though, I do break some laws. I smoke cannabis and occasionally ingest hallucinogenic mushrooms. I have also experimented with other controlled substances. At times I have been guilty of jaywalking or running past stop signs on my bicycle. That's it. That is the full extent of my illegal activity.)

  For the past few years, I had been losing vision in my right eye. In January of 2015, I looked closely in the mirror, with a flashlight shining into my eye. What I saw frightened me. It was cloudy and milky-looking in my pupil. I looked at pictures of cataracts on the internet, and they looked like what I had seen in my eye. At Stan and Cathy's house, I mentioned that I might have cataracts. Cathy asked, “Aren't you too young to be getting cataracts?” I replied, “I'm too young for a lot of things.”

  Soon after that, I scheduled an appointment with an eye doctor in Lawrence. After running some tests and looking into my eyes, the doctor told me what I had already suspected; I had cataracts. He told me that cataract surgery was the only solution, and he referred me to a group of eye surgeons. I asked him about the procedure. He explained that they remove the natural lens and replace it with an artificial lens. I did not like the sound of that. Not wanting to remove my natural lens, I looked for alternatives on the internet.

  During Thanksgiving, I visited with Melissa's family up near Des Moines. I told Melissa about the cataracts, saying, “I don't want to do the surgery, but eventually I won't be able to read or write. It compels me to get more serious about finishing my book.”

  Melissa was sympathetic about my cataracts. After returning home, I received an email from her, saying, “I've read that a leaking microwave oven can cause cataracts. There are detectors you can get to check for microwaves, but I would check into their sensitivity levels before buying one.” I pondered over those words. I never go anywhere near microwave ovens. I don't like them. I avoid cell phones because of the microwaves. Melissa knew about my problems with the bad vibrations, and I had mentioned the idea of microwave weapons to her. Now she was sharing this information about microwave radiation causing cataracts. As I read her email, I said, “Well, great. If it was a microwave weapon being directed at me, it may have caused me to develop cataracts at an early age. Just wonderful.”   And I had thought of getting one of those detectors. It would certainly add a bit more credibility to my story if I could have given actual numeric readings from such a device. By this time, however, the bad vibrations had mostly ended, and I felt that buying one of those detectors would almost be like inviting the bad vibes to come back.   The farm had returned to the calm and serenity that I missed. I was feeling better again. I rolled in the grass, breathing deep and feeling thankful that everything had been calm for this much time, which was only a couple of weeks at that point. And yet I could still feel the aftermath of all the weird vibrations that had been imposed upon me. I couldn't quite explain it, but I felt much different than I had before. Thinking out loud, I said, “Who knows what they've done to me?” I steered my mind away from bad thoughts like cancer and all the other horrible things that could go wrong. I understand how powerful thoughts can be, especially when it comes to good or bad health.

  Over the years, increasingly I noticed that I was often feeling irritable. The slightest little annoyances could set me off into an angry rage. I was already a bit of a moody person at times, though I felt that all those years of getting zapped had changed me. I had less patience with people, and I knew that I couldn't really talk about my dilemma with others. They would laugh and ridicule me. They would call me crazy, delusional, and paranoid. That is what most people will do. They will judge you as being crazy or delusional, without considering the possibility that what you are telling them is the truth.

  For many months I had stayed away from Facebook, and I rarely logged into my email account. When the bad vibes had mostly stopped after October the 18th, I was still reluctant to log into those accounts, concerned that the bad vibes would return. As the weeks passed, though, I began to log in again. I felt like a frightened little animal, crawling out of a hole, wondering if it was safe to go out into the light. With the exception of November 15th, everything had remained relatively calm. I was looking at my news feed on Facebook, though I refused to post anything or participate in any online discussions. Then on the evening of Thursday, December third, I shared a video about Donald Trump. It was the first time I had posted anything in months. It wasn't even controversial, it was just funny. I wondered if posting something might cause “them” to start zapping me again. The next morning, I woke up to the vibe. It was going steady and strong. I decided to leave the farm, so I packed the van for a long drive to Arkansas.

  Joel and Anna were playing music in Eureka Springs, and I drove all the way down there to see them. I helped them load their equipment into and out of the Stone House Winery, and at the end of the evening, they offered me a place to sleep. On Saturday night they were playing music in Fayetteville. Again I helped them move their equipment, before and after the show. I slept in my van that night, and on Sunday morning I drove toward Lawrence.

  By Tuesday I was back on the Farm. Everything felt calm. I avoided logging onto a computer until Thursday evening. I was planning to leave again on Friday, December 11th. The farm remained calm through the night and into the morning. When daylight arrived, I packed my things into the van and drove to Lawrence. Then I made my way through Wichita and to Hutchinson, where I continued to write about all of this.

  It is bad enough having endured the torment of getting zapped for all of those years. Adding sorrow to all of this is the awareness that my closest friends don't believe me. I have told my story to people like Luke, Ian, and Anastasia. They all get a blank look on their faces, like they are having some cognitive dissonance, wondering if I am crazy. It is sad and annoying. Melissa is one of the few people who hasn't doubted my story – Melissa, Frank, and perhaps Joel and Jen. As I have persisted with my story though, it seems that a few people are beginning to believe me.

  After all the years I endured the bad vibrations at the farm, I had examined many different thoughts and ideas about what the disturbance might be. I was looking for the most logical answer to the question: What is the cause of the bad vibrations? The notion of electronic weapons being the cause makes more sense to me than anything else which has been suggested by anyone. It makes more sense than wind farms being the cause, or the power lines, or the sand plant. None of those things could track me around and keep zapping me all the way to Denver, Missouri. But modern electronic weapons certainly could. This is logic, plain and simple. From everything I have experienced, it is my absolute belief that some kind of electronic weapon was being aimed at me for all of those years. It had the ability to track and follow me around in Northwest Missouri. On the radio, Annie Jacobsen had spoken of these weapons. When reading her book, “Phenomena,” I found very little information on the subject. She only briefly mentioned electronic weapons. Perhaps I simply haven't found the right book. Regardless, it has been admitted by the FBI that they were using similar kinds of weapons against someone, as far back as the 1950's.   So why do people have that knee-jerk reaction of ridicule and doubt when I mention any of this to them? I suppose it is because they were conditioned to think that way. Some folks have proposed the idea that perhaps I was experiencing the effects of tinnitus, a condition in which a person hears a ringing sound when no external sound is present. For each person who has suggested this to me, my response has been the same: “It's interesting how that tinnitus disappears every time I drive far enough away from the farm.” Sometimes I wish that those people could get zapped for just ten or twenty minutes. Ordinarily I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, yet if people could experience just a few moments of what I had to endure for eight long years, then maybe they would understand.

  As these weeks roll past, I am grateful for the relative calm I have been feeling. Ever since that day when I cried while talking to my sister on the phone, the bad vibrations have almost completely disappeared. I went back to working on some of my projects, thinking that maybe I can continue living on the farm. An enormous sense of relief has been happening for me. At the same time, there is an ongoing feeling of apprehension that it could all happen again.

  Is it over?

  Will the bad vibrations stay away and let me live in peace?

  Will the calm and serenity remain?

  I hope so.

  That would have been a fine way to end this chapter. I wish it was the end. Eighteen months went by without any notice of the weird vibrations. I thought it was over. But in late May of 2017, the bad vibes returned. It was mild at first, almost imperceptible, then it became stronger. After more than a year of calm, I had begun to think it would be okay to go ahead and speak my mind by posting certain things on Facebook. There were some postings about government corruption and war crimes. Not long after sharing those posts, I started feeling the bad vibes again.

  On the night of May 30th, I was lying in bed when the vibrations became more intense. I got up and began to gather my things, unsure of where to go, only knowing that I had to leave. After driving over to Herb's house, I sat in the car and opened up my computer. I was thinking of driving all the way up to Frank's place, then I thought of the upstairs room above Herb and Larry. The stairs are on the outside, so I was able to go up there without bothering anyone. As I settled in the bed to sleep, I was not feeling the vibes. So I slept.

  In the morning I went downstairs to chat with Larry and Herb. I made no mention of the recent vibrations on the farm. Then Frank showed up at the door. As he stepped inside, he said, “Hi Joe. How's it been going?”

  “Not so great. I'll tell you later.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  “They're zapping me again.”

  “Oh, no. That sucks.”

  “Frank, you're the only person who understands what I'm talking about.”

  Herb went outside as Frank and I discussed the bad vibrations. Larry sat up on the bed, listening to us. Frank recalled his experience of getting zapped for two years. The vibrations stopped harassing him around the same time when they first started bothering me. Frank and I had come up with a theory that initially, the perpetrators thought Frank was me. We both have dark brown eyes, brown hair and a brown beard. We have a similar shape to our eyebrows. People often asked if we were brothers. So it seemed plausible that our identity had gotten mixed up by those who were assaulting us. I told Frank that I had no choice but to leave the farm and go somewhere.

  “First, I need to get that gutter put on the water house, to channel the rain away from the building. Then I have to get out of here. My sister has been inviting me to visit, so maybe I'll go there.” Holding up my laptop computer, I said, “I can keep working on the book, just about anywhere.”

  Back on the farm, I spent most of the day figuring out how I would put up the gutter. The bad vibrations bothered me for a while. By late afternoon, though, they had stopped. After many hours of calm, I thought I would be able to sleep in my own bed again. But as I laid down to sleep that night, the vibes came back, steady and strong. So I gathered a few things and went over to Herb's. In the upstairs, I still felt a vibration, though not as pronounced as it was at the farm. Sleeping through the vibrations, I woke up at sunrise.

  Downstairs, I drank coffee with Herb while I read my emails. Then I drove the dusty road back to the farm. As I started gathering some tools and gutter pieces, no vibrations were apparent. Again, I felt relieved to be working in the calm surroundings. It was Thursday, the first of June. Standing on the porch with the cat, I watched two hummingbirds hovering around their nectar feeder. Suddenly they both flew toward me, one of them flying just a couple of inches past the right side of my face as the other one flew by me at waist level. Laughing with amusement, I said, “That was cool! I love living here when I'm not getting zapped.”

  The disturbing vibrations returned in the afternoon. I did my best to ignore them and to focus on getting the gutter installed. By evening, the vibes had diminished. Several hours later, though, just as I was lying down to sleep, the vibes returned. It seemed like the culprits were intentionally waiting until I went to bed, then as soon as I laid down, they started zapping me. It was like they were experimenting with their sadistic torture device while observing my reactions. For the third night in a row, I got dressed and drove along the gravel road to sleep in the upstairs room of Herb's house. In the morning, I woke up and drove back to the farm.

  After the gutter was attached, I felt better about walking away from the water-house project and going somewhere to get away from the bad vibrations. A few trips away from the farm gave me some peace for a while. I visited my sister's home near Lincoln, then drove to Lawrence. At the end of June, I was swept away in a flood. Interesting as that was, it does not relate to this story.

  When the vibrations returned and increased with intensity, I found myself making journal entries again: July 8th, 2017. The vibe is becoming more pronounced today. For the last month, I haven't felt it much, and most times it is barely noticeable. But today I am feeling a humming in my head that is some of the strongest vibration I've felt since November of 2015.

Sunday, 9th of July – I woke up to the vibe this morning, and it feels more steady and strong than it did yesterday. The realization is upon me again, that I cannot stay here, and I have to begin packing my car for a trip to somewhere.

  Things were much easier when I still had the minivan. There was room to move around and space to sleep. Then the transmission was destroyed. With the little Honda I am now driving, there is no room for anything. I do not know where I will sleep.

  As I write these words, the vibrations are humming in my head and chest. I wonder what may have caused the return of this miserable condition, and the only thing that comes to mind is a recent phone conversation I had with Sherri. It was last Tuesday evening, on the Fourth of July. I had mentioned to her that I thought NPR was just as full of lies as the other mainstream media networks:

  “They've all been lying about nine-eleven for all these years, and that's the biggest lie I have heard being perpetuated in my entire life. If they're going to continue with a lie as huge as nine-eleven, what else are they lying about?”

  So again, I was running my mouth about the government's involvement in a false flag operation, and again, the bad vibes returned.

  With a few things packed into the Honda, I drove all the way up to Frank's house. When Frank came out to meet me in the yard, I said, “They're zapping me again. I can't stand to stay on the farm, so I need to crash here tonight.” We went inside and talked of the experiences we've both had with the vibrations. Everything felt calm at Frank's. There was no feeling of any weird vibes at all. I thought back to what I had been feeling just a few hours earlier at the farm, and it seemed surreal. The calm feeling remained at Frank's house as I fell asleep on the futon.

  In the morning I wanted to get back to the farm and prepare for a more extended trip. By afternoon I was rolling toward the homestead. As soon as I rolled into the north driveway of the Little Farm, the vibration was completely obvious. I made a list of things I would need and began to gather them. Then I drove down to the Grove to visit with Herb and Larry for a couple of hours. Returning to the farm, I was hoping the vibration might have diminished, and that maybe I could sleep in my own bed again. Yet when I returned, the vibration seemed to be coming on stronger, and I knew I couldn't stay there. So I gathered my things for another drive up to Frank's house, feeling frantic about trying to get away, with my head and chest vibrating the entire time. After a second night at Frank's house, I drove back to the farm, preparing for another trip southward.

  Although I've grown tired of writing this chapter, it is difficult to find a stopping point, as I am dealing with an ongoing chronicle of these disturbances. I got away to Lawrence. From there, I drove to the southwest corner of Missouri, then north and west to Wichita for two nights, then to Hutchinson. For three nights, I stayed at Ian and Anastasia's house, then drove back up to Lawrence. By Monday, July 24th, I had returned to Northwest Missouri.

  Everything was calm as I refrained from logging in on a computer. The next day, I logged into email and Facebook while I was at the Library in town. Also, I requested two books by Annie Jacobsen, through the inter-library loan. At the farm I had mild perceptions of some vibrations, but wasn't sure. It was vague. On Thursday, I logged in from Herb's house on an older computer. That night, the vibes came on strong, just as I was settling into bed. I got up, grabbed a few things and drove to Herb's. Stepping up the outside stairs, I went into the room. The vibes were still apparent up there and I couldn't sleep, so I went down to go into the downstairs part, but it was locked. Not wanting to wake Herb, I drove back to the farm. When I got back inside the bus, the vibes were still going steady. I wanted to leave but I was exhausted. It was around two o'clock in the morning when I succumbed, falling asleep with the vibes humming through my body. At daybreak I woke up to the vibes going through me like they hadn't stopped all night.

  Later that day, I drove back up to Frank's. We talked for a while, then I called Herb's house and left him a message. When Herb called back, he told me that he had experienced some strange vibrations during the previous night. That would have been Thursday night and Friday morning, the 27th and 28th of July. Herb said he woke up to a vibration and wondered why he was “hearing” something when he knew that the refrigerator wasn't running at the time, the air conditioner was not on, and the ceiling fan was off. In a way, I was glad that Herb was recognizing a vibration. I certainly don't want him getting zapped, but I've wanted him to understand that what I have been experiencing is real. I want everyone to understand that.

  Again I escaped from the farm, driving to Lawrence and visiting with friends.

  August 14th, 2017 – When I got back to the farm last night, everything felt much different than it ever has in the last twenty-one years. I did not feel good about being home. After all the years of being out here alone, the years of getting zapped, the ongoing apprehension about possibly getting zapped again, and events of the last eleven months which have left me severely angry at certain people, it is feeling more to me like this is no longer my home. It does not feel like my home anymore. The water house stands there, looking at me as if it is wondering when I will break out the tools and continue building on it. I look back to the water house and say, “My heart is not in it. I just don't care anymore.” All of that time and energy, the endless days of toiling away, it might have all been a complete waste of my time, energy, and money. My greatest and most ambitious projects in recent years have been the water house and the book. But the ongoing events of recent months continue to push me away from this place, and I keep returning to the conclusion that I need to buy a van and be prepared to live on the road. The only thing I have left is this book.

  Late August in Lawrence, I stayed at Stella's old house on Montana street during the time when she was moving to a rental property and putting her house up for sale. Many times I had noticed a weird vibration that seemed to be running through the east side of the house. This was the first time I felt any kind of strange electrical vibes in Lawrence. It should be noted that I had logged onto my computer, using Stella’s wifi connection. Perhaps this made my presence known, putting me on someone’s radar. After feeling bad vibes in the southeast bedroom, I moved my sleeping pad into the living room where no vibes were apparent.

  When I told Stella about the bad vibes in that southeast corner room, she said that her daughter did not like that room and would never go in there. Stella reacted strongly to what I was telling her, as it appeared to add some credence to whatever her daughter had been experiencing. Stella seemed to be pondering about a ghostly presence, while I was thinking of something electronic and man-made. I began to notice that the vibration was also apparent in the bathroom, the kitchen, and the laundry room. It was extending lengthwise, north and south, through the entire east side of the house.

  In late August, I bought another old Dodge van. Deciding to stay in Lawrence during the fall and winter, I made arrangements to move in with two friends, though I did not want to be on the lease. By early September, I had settled into a house near the campus of The University of Kansas. One of my early mistakes was logging in on my computer through the wifi in that house. Eventually, I learned about and purchased a VPN (Virtually Private Network) service which is meant to provide some privacy for my online activity, re-routing my connection through another server somewhere. But my attempts at hiding my location had failed, as I had already logged on without the protection of a VPN. I’ve had doubts about whether or not the VPN actually hides my location from the feds, anyway.

  Several times when I went to go walking or riding my bike, I noticed someone in an idle car, stopped in the middle of the street, just staring at me as I made my way from the house. Each time, it was a different person in a different car, not parking anywhere, just sitting idle in the street, staring at me. Every time it happened, I walked or biked directly toward the person, then he or she would drive away as I got closer. It seemed really strange. Not long after those encounters, a weird vibration started happening in my temporary new home. At first, I noticed it in the bathroom when I was standing in front of the toilet to pee. Then I was feeling it in the kitchen as well.

  Luke knew all about my struggle with the bad vibes, and when he came over to see the house, he asked, “Do you ever feel those vibrations when you're in Lawrence?”

  “In the last couple of months, I have. I was getting weird vibes at Stella's old house, all along the east side but not on the west side. And now in this house, I keep getting it in the bathroom and in the kitchen.”

  After Luke left, I wondered why I had not asked him to stand in the bathroom and tell me if he felt the vibrations. My two housemates knew nothing about my years of struggle with the bad vibes on the farm. Several times I had mentioned the weird vibrations in the bathroom and kitchen. When they gave no response, I said nothing more about it.

  During September and October, I became more convinced that I was being electronically harassed at the Lawrence home. Along with the vibrations going through my skull, there was often a feeling of tightness, almost a numbness in my throat area, like the glands were being assaulted. With the vibes penetrating through my chest, my heart often started racing at a much faster pace than usual. It would be normal if I was engaged in heavy exercise at the time, but it often happens when I am fully relaxed, or even when I'm lying down to sleep. There is no reason why my heart should start racing so fast when I am not moving at all. Actually though, there is a reason: electronic assault. One day I was describing the rapid heartbeat to Luke, then he asked, “Is there anything that would be causing you anxiety, to the point where your heart would speed up?”

  “Yes. Getting zapped by electronic weapons causes me anxiety. It causes anxiety when it's happening. And when it's not happening, the thought of it returning makes me apprehensive, too.”

  Once or twice a month, I made the drive up to the Little Farm. It was good to see Herb, Larry, and the dogs in the Grove. The cats, too, especially my cat on the farm. For several days I would hang out, in and around my home. Everything was calm. It seemed apparent that whoever had been assaulting me, they had found my location in Lawrence but were no longer aiming their devices at my home on the farm. When my life returns to that level of calm and serenity, it is the greatest relief I know.

  Back in Lawrence, however, the vibes were becoming more commonplace. At first, it was the steady vibe constantly running through the bathroom, and eventually through the kitchen, as though the perpetrators were uncertain about which room I was occupying. I imagined them projecting a steady vibration, perhaps while figuring out the lay of the house. That's how I thought of it, anyway.  

  As November came along, I started feeling the disturbance in the living room at times. I would abruptly get up and move to different parts of the house, trying to decipher whether the vibes were happening in those areas. One evening, Cory asked, “What are you doing, Joe?”

  “It's difficult to explain. You wouldn't understand.”

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I understand?”

  “Because nobody understands. It's something I've been dealing with for years. Most people don't believe me, anyway. I don't like to talk about it.”

  Cory's curiosity was growing, along with his confusion about my reluctance to speak about my situation. Then I told him, “I've written a fairly detailed chapter about it. It's the longest chapter in my book, and you can read all about it when I get the book published. Or if you want to read it on a computer sometime, maybe I can put it on a flash drive for you. But generally, I don't talk about it with people anymore.”

  “You could email it to me.”

  “No. I definitely don't want to do that. Other people could see it. The wrong people. Shit, they've probably already crept into my computer and got everything in there... any of those times I went online before I had a VPN, they could have done that. But you never know. Maybe they haven't seen that chapter. I'll put it on a flash drive sometime, and we can put it on your computer.” “Okay… well, I'd be interested to read it.”

  For about three months, I had not been feeling anything bothersome in my little room at the top of the stairs. I was able to sleep without much concern. By the end of November though, I was getting more disturbing vibes in my room. One morning, I frantically began to load the van with the things I would need to get away to somewhere, to anywhere. Before I left for another spontaneous escape, I put the majority of this chapter on a flash drive and told Cory, “I have to leave, but I want to put this on your computer before I go.” So we sat down with his laptop computer and made that happen.

  In December I began to document my frequent encounters with the house vibrations by making notes on the December page of a calendar, taped up on the inside of my room door: December 7, 8, 9 – zapped. Familiar pressure in my skull, tightness in my throat glands. Light but steady vibe going on. 10 – calm. Left for farm. Calm at farm. December 13 – returned and zapping started again. 14 – Zapped, heavily. Stopped around 10-11pm. December 15 – Left for Ozarks. December 17 – Returned to Lawrence – calm. After the word, “calm,” there is an arrow pointing through the remaining days of that week, indicating that the calmness had remained.

December 25 – vibes, 26 – vibes, 27 – calm again. At the top of the December calendar page, I began to write down the encounters occurring in January: Vibes on Jan. 5th, 6pm – Vibes.

  Then everything remained calm for twelve days until I got caught up in argument on Facebook. It was a discussion about the idea of mandatory vaccines. In the comments, I went on a rant about the toxic poisons in vaccines, and that mandating forced injections on people was another extension of fascism. Within hours of posting those comments, I was clearly feeling the bad vibrations again. I imagined there was a correlation between my speaking out, then getting assaulted.

  During the many years I was getting zapped on the farm, I often went searching online for some clues to the mystery I was experiencing. Yet for so many of those years, I never thought to do a simple search regarding electronic weapons. I was researching wind-farm vibrations, cell phone tower microwaves, “stray electricity,” and other things. When I finally searched for answers by typing “electronic weapons” in the search box, I was suddenly exposed to hundreds of links dealing with electronic assault, harassment, and torture. It was then I began to realize that there were many other people dealing with the same problems I had been going through. Some of these folks were labeled as “targeted individuals.” People's descriptions of experiences were similar to mine. For example, one thing that seems common among targeted individuals is the claim that the first episodes of electronic assault were very intense, as if to let the victim know with certainty that these attacks were coming from an outside source. Then the level of intensity is brought down to a small fraction of the original attack, though it keeps going for days, weeks, months, or years.

  This was precisely how it happened to me at the farm. That first night I was assaulted in October of 2007, it was extremely intense, then it seemed to gradually diminish in the days that followed, yet it was still going. After that first night of attacks on the farm, I did not think to write down the exact date. I only know that it was middle to late October, in 2007. Had I known what an ongoing ordeal was about to unfold for the next eight or ten years, I most certainly would have written down the date of that first experience.

  Some victims of electronic assault claim to have sensations of feeling like their skin is being burned. This is something I have not experienced. Not once, did I ever feel like my skin was burning. For me, it has been the intense vibrations going through my skull and chest. Many times, my heart was pounding so hard and fast, I felt that someone was trying to cause me to have a heart attack. When the glands in my jaw go numb, I feel like my lymphatic system is being assaulted.

  I understand that much of this chapter is speculation, as I have no way of proving any of this. I can only give my detailed and honest description of what I have experienced. It makes sense to me though, that the perpetrators have developed a method of attacking people in a way that the victims cannot prove. Additionally, it seems that the underlying goal is to discredit the victims by making them appear as delusional and insane. This is what the FBI did to Pedro Campos in the 1950s. While I still consider purchasing a microwave detector or radio frequency indicator, some of those devices cost several hundreds of dollars. With my limited budget, I am not anxious to spend that money.

  In September of 2017, I was introduced to a Missouri chapter of the Native American Church, down in the Ozarks of Southern Missouri. The location was beautiful and I liked most of the people I met. So I returned in October. (For now, I am bypassing the details of what those ceremonies were about, as they could become another entire chapter, separate from this one, and I am trying to stay on point here.) When I was on my way down there for the November ceremony, I stopped at Mama Jean's grocery store on Sunshine Street in Springfield. Using my computer with their wifi, my VPN service would not turn on without me logging in to the service's website. I had forgotten my password, though I knew I had emailed a clue about it to myself. But the only way to retrieve that password was to log in without the protection of the VPN. So I went ahead and logged in, opened up my email and got the password. Also, I replied to an email from my sister, telling her I was heading toward the Ozarks.

  Driving another twenty miles or so to my destination, I put some Rush tunes in the CD player and blasted the music for the last stretch of my trip. When I pulled onto the grassy parking area and turned off the van, I was immediately sensing weird vibrations. In an instant, I felt surprised and upset.

  “Are you kidding me?! Are they really fuckin’ with me... all the way down here in the Ozarks?!” Looking up, I noticed a power line connected to a transformer on the utility pole. I said, “Maybe that's what I'm feeling.” So I took a walk, perhaps a quarter of a mile or more to the south, yet the vibrations continued to follow me. Closing my eyes, I wondered what direction the assault was coming from. Suddenly my hands reached up to a certain location in the northern sky. I perceived the bad vibrations to be coming from that direction. In my mind, I was thinking of a satellite with electronic weapons. I went back to the van, opened the computer and attempted to write about the experience. The vibes increased, and I knew I was being assaulted. It was too obvious, as my skull and my chest were pulsating with vibrations.

  I frantically drove out of there, taking the winding mountain road all the way back to the nearest town, fourteen miles to the west. When I pulled over near the town square and turned off the engine, everything felt calm again. For several hours I walked around the little downtown area, thinking maybe I would sleep there in town, where the van was parked. By midnight though, I decided to drive all the way back to the Native American Church location. When I shut off the engine, everything felt calm. After sleeping in the van, I woke to join in the morning ceremony. For the rest of that Saturday and into the night, I could only feel the calm normality of nature all around me.

  On the 15th of December, I drove to the Ozarks again. My friend Michael rode down there with me. I slept in the van and woke to join in the morning ceremony. During the usual introductions, a woman named Audrey spoke of some papers she had written as part of a book she was working on. She was offering free copies to anyone interested, and asking for donations. She spoke of information she was trying to get out to people. Then she mentioned something about electronic weapons, and that caught my attention.

  Later in the day, people had gathered in a large circle and were “passing the feather.” It was actually not a feather that day, but a small maraca. Each person who held it would speak of their thoughts and feelings while everyone else listened. When someone handed the maraca to me, I stood up, not really knowing what I would say. Then the words just came pouring from my mouth: “Nice day today. Too bad about the chem-trails.” I pointed up to the haze in the western sky, noting that the day had started with a clear sky until we observed those planes spraying trails that do not fade, as normal vapor trails do. A few people in the circle said, “Aho.” (This, I am told, is a Native American expression which means something like, “Amen,” “Right on,” or, “I agree with you.”)

  Continuing, I said, “I hear a lot of people sharing experiences with all of these messages of positivity and hope. I don't want to bring anything negative into this circle, but I feel compelled to say some things that need to be addressed. There are a lot of bad things happening in the world… cops going around murdering people, government starting wars for profit... and it seems that in order to stop the bad things from happening, there needs to be awareness. I mean, how can we stop the bad things if people aren't even aware that those things are happening? This morning, someone mentioned something about electronic weapons.” A woman stood up, saying, “Yes, that was me.” It was Audrey. I looked at her and said, “I have been dealing with this for over ten years. You are not alone.” “Thank you,” she said, “Thank you,” seeming grateful that I was acknowledging the issue. And though I rarely ever mentioned this subject to any of my friends, there I was, telling my story to more than fifty strangers:    “It all started for me in October of 2007 and continued for many years. It's like getting hit with a beam of energy that vibrates through my head and my chest.” Audrey was still standing, nodding her head while saying, “Yes, yes...Yes.” I continued, “I live on a farm, way out in the country. For a long time, I tried to believe that I was dealing with vibrations from the wind farms that are south of my home. Those wind generators are huge, and they have to be anchored way deep into the ground, so I thought maybe that was the cause of the vibrations I was feeling. But over time, I realized that this was something deliberate. I've been writing a detailed chapter about all of this…” Looking to Audrey, I said, “I'm also writing a book.” She was still standing and facing me, while most people in the circle were sitting. I went on, saying,“The thing is, at some point I became a target. I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The Government did nine-eleven.' Actually, I don't know who did nine-eleven, but whoever it was, they had the full cooperation of the United States Government, at the highest levels.” Someone in the circle said, “Aho.” “Anyway,” I continued, “The point is that I drew too much attention to myself, and I became another one of their targets.”

  As I spoke, a younger, bearded guy walked around the outside of the circle and put a hand on my left shoulder, saying, “Sorry to interrupt.” Then, in a louder voice, he spoke to the crowd, saying, “This guy is telling the truth. I've been through some stuff, and there's a lot of things I want to say when the feather comes around to me.” I was slightly annoyed that he had interrupted me, yet I allowed him to continue, as he was giving some verbal backing to my claims about electronic weapons. When he let me resume speaking, I tried to pick up where I had left off, though I was somewhat thrown off from a few points I had wanted to make.

  “This has all been a living nightmare for me. I keep hoping and praying that they will leave me alone. They didn't bother me for a year and a half. But when I started posting things on Facebook again, stuff about government corruption and war crimes... Lo and behold, they started zapping me again. It’s like they’re trying to control my freedom of speech.” Audrey said, “Yes, yes...” The rest of the circle remained silent as they patiently listened to what I was saying. While I've forgotten much of what I said that day, I do recall that near the end of my monologue, with emphasis, I said, “This stuff is real. It's electronic assault and harassment. It's electronic torture.” Several people said, “Aho.” I passed the maraca on to the next person to my left, and the speeches returned to less intense subjects.   With the passing hours, the evening had darkened as many of us gathered around the bonfire. Suddenly a woman walked over to me and said, “It is real. I had to move my entire office. My family has seen what this has all been doing to me.” For a few seconds I had mistaken her for Audrey, the woman who mentioned electronic weapons that morning. Then I realized that this was someone else talking to me. We spoke briefly about our experiences with electronic harassment. I did not get her name before she walked away. In the next moment I made a mental note about being surrounded by approximately fifty people, and of that fifty people, three or four of us were claiming to have been assaulted by electronic weapons.

  A while later I saw Audrey on the opposite side of the fire, and I stepped over to speak with her. With her right hand, she made a gesture near the left side of her head as she said, “I'm getting it right now. They're hitting me with it.” I asked,“Really? You're getting zapped right now?” She nodded her head, saying, “Uh-huh.” As soon as she said that, I had my doubts. It didn't seem real to me, but then I caught myself. In my mind, I asked, “Why wouldn't I believe her?” Only one month before this, I had the experience of getting zapped, not far from that same location, on the Friday afternoon before anyone else had arrived. Yet I was doubting this woman. In an instant, I felt surprised by my reaction. For more than ten years I had already dealt with this ongoing disturbance, then suddenly I was having doubts about another person's claims on the issue. This increased my realization that most people are not likely to believe any of this, especially if they have not experienced it for themselves.

  I wanted to get a copy of whatever Audrey had written, then Michael said that he grabbed one for me, so I stopped looking. After we returned to Kansas, I asked him about the copy but he said he had lost it.

  Back in Lawrence, I was getting more disturbed by the vibrations in the house. On the 24th of January, 2018, I began packing the van for another spontaneous trip, feeling chased away by the ongoing turmoil. Driving south on 59, I began to feel relief as I sped away from town. For three nights I stayed with my friends in Hutchinson. Everything felt calm. Then I spent three nights with my former neighbors in Wichita. All was calm and serene. Driving east on 400, I was slowly moving toward the Ozarks for the next ceremony, scheduled for February 3rd.

  I made the mistake of sending two messages about attending the upcoming ceremony in the Ozarks. These were “private” messages, sent through Facebook. When I arrived at my destination, everything felt calm. No one else was around. It was Friday evening, February 2nd. I went walking toward the area where people would be gathering in the morning. As soon as I got there, I felt a disturbing vibration and immediately turned to walk away. The vibe followed me. When I crawled in the van, the vibration seemed to increase with intensity. I went back outside and began walking across a field of grass, toward a highway bridge. Going under the bridge seemed to diminish the vibration, so I stayed down there for nearly an hour. When I emerged on the other side of the highway, walking out into the open, everything felt calm again. I slept in the van and felt no disturbances for the rest of the night.

  The next day passed without any weird-feeling vibrations. The ceremonies went on as usual, and I enjoyed visiting with several people. Late that night, however, I felt strong vibrations in my van, just as I was leaning in through the sliding door. It was like a field of weird energy was already being projected onto the van. Crawling in there, I felt absolutely sure I was being assaulted. I walked away and went under the bridge again, feeling slight relief from the vibes, though I was cold. When I came walking out from underneath, I felt the vibes going through me again. Then I returned to the van.

  Taking my blankets along, I walked way over to the river and found a sand bar to sleep on. It was soft and comfortable but I was shivering with cold, and the weird vibes were still assaulting me. I went back to the van, then to the chapel. About fifteen or twenty people were in there with their sleeping bags and blankets, laying all over the floor. I stood near the entrance, not wanting to wake anyone, yet unsure about where to go or what to do. I left the chapel and walked over to a small kitchen shack, looking around inside for some aluminum foil to wrap around myself. Finding none, I walked back over to the front entrance of the chapel, stepping in for a moment to get warm. Someone raised a head to look at me. All this time, I was getting zapped.

  Then I decided to leave. I went back to the van, started it up and drove out of there. It was after five o'clock in the morning, and I had not slept all night. The winding highway brought me west to the nearest town, and from there I went north until I connected with highway 60. Although I was sad to leave without telling anyone goodbye, I felt I had no choice, desperately needing to get away from the assault I was feeling. That afternoon I was caught in a snowstorm with car wrecks all up and down the highway. When the van started sliding around, and with the temperatures quickly dropping, I pulled over in the town of Clinton and booked a hotel room for the night.  

  When I returned to the house in Lawrence, I immediately asked my two house mates to not tell anyone I was back in town. Mostly, I stressed that I didn't want them texting or saying anything over their phones about my return. They both assured me they would not do such things. It was Tuesday afternoon, February 6th. No bad vibes were apparent for a day. By Wednesday evening though, I was feeling weird pulsations again, buzzing through my skull. I left the house and rode downtown on my bicycle, but the bad vibes seemed to be following me.

  I ran into Stella at the Jazzhaus, and she offered me a place to sleep in the upstairs of her place on Ohio Street. I walked with her to the parking garage, then she drove us to her house. She showed me the upstairs room and told me I was free to come and go, as the front door would remain unlocked. After going back to the Jazzhaus for another hour or so, I rode my bike over to Stella's place. When I went to lie down that night, I immediately felt a strange energy in my chest as my heart started racing, pounding intensely for no plausible reason – except for perhaps another electronic assault. With a heavy sigh, I cussed a few words and started putting my clothes back on. I rode my bike home and went upstairs, still feeling the strange pulsations in my head and chest.

  The next day I pulled a large cardboard box from the basement and broke it down to lie flat over me. Then I started layering sheets of aluminum foil over it, and each night I would pull it over the top of me before falling asleep. The cardboard had two folding points, allowing the flaps to hang over each side of me, with the middle portion resting directly over me. By morning it would be in shambles, with strips of foil falling in different directions, leaving only the bare cardboard above me. I went to buy some duct tape and spray adhesive, planning to make a more permanent blocking device. Before I spent time doing that, I wanted to use a much larger piece of cardboard – a refrigerator-sized box. I began asking for such a box at a home appliance store, and they promised to save the next refrigerator box for me.

  For now, I am still using the crappy rig of aluminum foil, loosely wrapped over the same piece of cardboard I was using. There were nights when I wasn't feeling any bad vibrations, so I didn't concern myself with it. The cardboard and aluminum stayed in the closet. Recently though, I have been feeling disturbing pulses of vibrations, so for the last two nights I have pulled the cardboard and aluminum shield over me. It seems to block some of the disturbance, and I am able to sleep with less concern about my well-being. Some folks might say that this is psychosomatic, though I say it is not. Either way, it's better for my healthy state of mind.

  On two separate occasions when I had the foil and cardboard shield over me, I clearly heard a small “popping” sound, like little grains of sand hitting against the aluminum. It was a steady tempo of tapping sounds; it had a rhythm to it. I first heard this back in January, then again last night, on the first of March. After feeling the disturbing vibrations for several hours before I settled in to sleep, I had just pulled the shield over me, and I was clearly hearing that tapping sound again. I laid there in disbelief, wishing I had something to record the sound with, or to make a video. My digital camera was not far away. Then I had a better thought that I spoke to myself: “If I'm gonna be wishing for things, then actually, I wish for these fuckin' vibes to go fuck off somewhere else and leave me alone.”

  In the morning, most of the foil had fallen away from the cardboard. I laid there wondering how much I had been getting zapped during sleep. Downstairs, I went through my stretch routine. Then sat on the toilet, pondering over which direction my day would go. A part of me wanted to find a different appliance store to get the box I needed to make a better shield. Another part of me wanted bring the computer to a coffee shop, hoping to find an end to this chapter.

  When I finally got a large refrigerator box, I opened it up to lay flat on the back porch. On a day that was sunny and calm, I began using spray adhesive to attach strips of aluminum foil to the cardboard. Brooke came outside to smoke a cigarette, and asked, “What are you making?”

  “Nothing. Don't worry about.”

  “I'm not worried, I'm just wondering what that is.”

  “I can't explain, Brooke. You wouldn't understand.”

  Then she was on the phone, talking to someone as she started saying, “Joe is out here making this… thing. It's a big piece of cardboard and he's putting…”

  I interrupted her.   “Brooke, will you stop? Just stop. It ain't nobody's business. It's none of your concern.”   I was annoyed with her for talking about my project over the phone. Several times, I had asked Brooke and Cory to not mention my presence around there, over the phone or internet, but they both kept doing it, anyway. Cory was sending me an email each month, showing the breakdown of the previous month's utility bills. That was pissing me off. He could have easily told me in person, as we would see each other nearly every day. He was basically confirming my location every time he did that. Multiple times throughout the winter, I had to leave, trying to get away from the electronic assault I was experiencing. No matter how many times I asked my housemates to not be sending anything online that would reveal my return or my presence there, they both kept on doing just that. I was also annoyed that I had shared much of this chapter with Cory, and he still didn't believe me. I should have known.

  When I began to move out, near the end of March, I kept noticing different people at different times, sitting nearby in an idle running car, just watching me as I loaded my things into the van. As usual, they were not picking up anyone or dropping anyone off, and they were not looking for a parking space. They were just watching me. One woman sat there for maybe an hour, staring at me as I brought many loads of things out to my van. Then I held up my arms and yelled, “What? What do you want?” I walked directly to her car, took a good look at her face as I walked past her car window, and continued to walk beyond her car. She appeared to be talking on a phone. I glanced at her license plate when I began to walk back toward my van, and as I walked past her, I spoke out the letters and numbers on her tag. A frightened look came over her face as she started driving away.

  After I had cleared all of my things out of the house, I temporarily stayed with Stella and Kelly, near Ninth and Ohio. I had already brought all of my big aloe vera plants to the farm, hoping we were beyond anymore hard freezes with the weather. Then I saw a forecast for really cold weather over the next few days. I had to make a sudden trip to the farm, to light up the wood stove and save the big aloes from freezing. It was the first day of April. There were multiple car accidents all along the highway, as wet snow was falling, then turning to ice on the road. I stopped at a rest area on Interstate 29 to get out of the traffic. Having recently bought a cell phone for the first time in my life, I called Herb's cell phone to tell him I was on my way up.   “I'm at the rest area on 29, south of Saint Joseph. There were car wrecks all up and down the highway, ever since I left Lawrence.”

  “Where are you calling from? I mean… how are you calling?”   “I bought a little flip-phone the other day. Anyway, I should be there in a couple hours.”

  Not long after I left the rest area, I noticed a little black sports car directly behind me, following way too closely. I slowed down to 60 miles per hour, but they did not pass me. I slowed to to 50, then 40. Any other car would have gone around me, but this car stayed directly behind me. I slowed down to 30, then 20. While all the other traffic was flying past us at seventy miles an hour or faster, this car remained close behind me. I was getting angry. I hit the breaks, several times, yet they still did not pass. Then I pulled onto the shoulder, rolled down my window and put my left arm out, pointing forward as a gesture for them to go around. They appeared to be pulling over behind me, like they were undercover cops or something. Then they started going past me, hesitantly, like they didn't know what to do to next. As they were finally going by, I yelled, “Get the fuck away from me! What the fuck do you want?!” With their windows closed, they likely didn't hear me. It was two men. They finally went on past me, then I sped up behind them to get a reading of their license plate. They took the next exit as I held up my middle finger, asking, “What the fuck was that?”

  It becomes more and more apparent to me that there is a vast network of creeps who are on a government payroll, wasting American tax dollars to spy on people like me – someone doing nothing wrong, but had made the mistake of speaking out about government corruption. It appears that these jerks are relentlessly watching me.

  When I arrived at Herb's house, Herb told me he was leaving for Guatemala in the morning. I was glad to have seen him before he left. He poured me a glass of beer as he, Larry, and I all talked. When I slept on the farm that night, everything remained calm. No weird vibrations were apparent. The next evening when I went to the Grove, Larry told me that Frank had called and wanted me to call him. As usual, Frank and I talked for more than an hour on the phone. Also as usual, our conversation evolved into an in-depth discussion about the evil in our government. That second night back on the farm remained calm.

  The next day, I was over at Herb's house when Larry and Russ walked in from somewhere. I went out to my van to grab some DVD movies I had borrowed from Russ. As I opened the passenger-side door, there on the road in front of me was a man in a tan-colored sports utility vehicle, sitting idle and looking at my van as he appeared to be talking on a phone. I wrongly assumed he was with Larry and Russ. Stepping back into the house, I asked, “Is that dude out there waiting for you guys?” Larry and Russ said they were not with anyone, so I quickly looked outside and saw the guy rolling away. Suddenly I felt a growing rage toward that man. It appeared that another person was keeping a watch on me. “God damn that fuckin' prick,” I said. “These creepy feds need to go find some bigger fish to fry. Jeezus Kreist, they are pissing me off.” Larry and Russ, I'm sure, were uncertain of what I was talking about. Still, I continued ranting about electronic weapons assaulting me for so many years.

  The next few nights on the farm remained calm, but then on the morning of Friday, April 6th I was sitting at my computer in the bus when I started feeling strange vibrations in my head and chest. “No. It can't be,” I said aloud. Then I focused my mind to “listen.” It was happening again. I was being assaulted. It seemed to be coming from the southeast, as it always had before. With another feeling of rage building inside me, I stood up, facing toward the direction of assault, clinched both of my fists and screamed, “God damn you, fucking cowards!” Turning off the computer, I began to organize a few things as I planned to drive the twenty or more miles to Frank's place.

  I stopped twice along the way, turning off the engine to “hear” the vibrations. I did not detect anything. When I pulled into Frank's driveway and shut off the engine, though, I felt the bad vibes again. Frank came walking outside as I said, “They're zapping me, Frank. I came all the way up here to get away from it, but I'm feeling it here, just as soon as I shut off the engine.” We both went into the house and talked about it as I paced back and forth, keeping my body moving around, not wanting to be a stationary target. My throat was feeling tense and tight again. Frank noticed me holding my throat, and he asked me about it. I told him, “Yeah, my throat keeps feeling all tight and numb for the last several months. I feel like they are targeting my glands in there.” I continued pacing back and forth. Then I went outside, walking toward the field to the east. I ducked behind the north wall of a metal shed and instantly felt relief from the assault, which seemed to be coming from the south. So I squatted there with my bare feet on the dirt as I imagined a computerized, automated tracking system that had lost me. In my mind, I pictured it quickly scanning the area, then perhaps resetting the weapon to an inactive position. I thought maybe it might let me be. After ten minutes or so, I walked back over and went into the house. I wasn't feeling anything weird for a while, but then the vibe became apparent again. I went out to hide behind the metal shed, and again I felt relief, but only for as long as I stayed there. Going back in the house, I told Frank, “That metal shed out there seems to block the vibes that appear to be coming from the south, from the direction of Albany.” Frank said, “From the south, that's where it was coming from when I was getting it.”

  I grabbed the phone to call my sister.   “Hello?”

  “Hey Liz, I need prayers again.”

  “Joe, Hi. I was just thinking about you.”  

  “Yeah... telepathy. Liz, I'm getting zapped again, and it's ruining my life.”

  Another long conversation ensued about the ongoing ordeal. We were on the phone for more than an hour. At one point, I mentioned that the ongoing electronic torture was making me feel suicidal at times. Liz said, “Oh, Joe, no...” I replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m not gonna let them win. There are things I want to do before I'm gone. Publishing my book is one of them. I need to get it done, but it's really difficult when I keep having to jump up and run away from the bad vibrations. My life is becoming more random and spontaneous, having to be constantly on the move. I don't tell people where I'm going, because usually I don't know. This is no way to live. I'm so tired of all this.”

  Again, Liz said she and her children would pray for me. In the next few days, I was relieved to observe the naturally occurring calmness around me. I went to Lawrence and returned, feeling only a calm peacefulness for many days. Then I was at herb's house when the phone rang. I was the only person in the house at the time, so I answered the call.   “Hello?”

  “Herb?”

  “Herb went to town for a bit.”   “Oh. Who's this?”   “Joe.”

  Oh, Hi Joe. This is Frieda. Are you back now?”

  “At the moment, yes.”

  “Are you gonna stay around for a while?”   “Maybe. I don't know.”

  She went on about a relative who was bringing a trailer to her property across the road. She asked if any vehicles were blocking the drive, and if so, could someone move them. I told her I would go look, and that I would speak to Herb about it. She called back three more times. While I tried to be polite and accommodating, she kept asking me questions that were specific to my whereabouts at any given time:

  “Are you going back over to the farm tonight?”

  “Yes.” With that reply, a discomfort came over me. It was a truthful answer, but I felt bad for saying it. This annoying phone call was demanding too much information, and I felt that my safety was being compromised. My mind was asking, “Why am I allowing this conversation to happen? Should I have just lied and said I am not going to the farm? Should I hang up the phone?” Then she asked,  

  “Will you be around Herb's tomorrow?”

  “Possibly.”

  “In the morning or in the afternoon?”

  “I don't know, Frieda. I gotta go.”

  It must have taken me another forty-seven seconds to shake her off the phone, and I became irritated, wondering why I didn't just hang up on her. In the days that followed, more electronically bad vibrations returned, bringing the nightmare back to life as I began to gather a few things for another trip to Lawrence. I felt angry with Frieda for asking so many questions, and I was angry with myself for responding to them. Driving away from it all, I said, “Fuck it. I just won't answer that phone anymore.”

Returning to Lawrence, I found some relief for a few days.

  On the internet, I discovered a woman named Doctor Katherine Horton. A physicist, formerly employed at CERN (the European Organization for Nuclear Research), Doctor Horton is a self-described whistle-blower and targeted individual. She was in multiple videos, addressing the issue of electronic assault and torture. In one of these videos, she held a detection device which lit up with lights and sound as she held it to areas around her head, especially when she held it near her throat. She said, “Look at this. Look at this,” as she moved it back and forth, close to her throat area, then away. The device was showing a more intense reaction each time it was near her throat. This woman was apparently being assaulted, electronically. She showed and described some of the measures she had taken to protect herself, including a Faraday cage and walls lined with aluminum. She was also interviewed in podcasts with other targeted individuals, discussing protective measures.

  I found it refreshing to hear people speaking of these things in such a matter-of-fact way. They all know the electronic assault is happening, and they get right to the point in their discussions. It gives me a sense of hope, knowing that some folks are out there speaking truth and raising awareness about this issue.

  All has been calm since my return two days ago. I was in Lawrence for five days, and my concerns about being targeted had faded. The strange experience of my throat going tight and numb, that had gone away as well. I was feeling grateful, giving thanks for the calm serenity that was completely normal for most of my life. Although I have wanted to call a few people, I've refrained from picking up the phone.

  On the evening of May the first, I was home on the farm, preparing to drive to the Grove when I heard a truck coming down the road. I decided to stay back in the darkness to see what the driver would do. Strangely, the truck slowed as it approached, turned toward the fence across the road from me, then backed up, turned in the direction it came from, and drove away. This was suspicious behavior. I thought that they could have been random thieves, looking to scour the farm. But I also felt that it could have been a part of the surveillance, checking to see if I was home. Most people are not going to drive the gravel road two miles away from the highway, just to turn around like they weren't actually going anywhere. It seemed obvious that the driver slowed and turned around as soon as he or she saw my van in the driveway.

  Everything remained calm through the night and into the morning. Herb came over here a while ago as I was cooking a pot of soup. He sat on the porch and talked to someone on his cell phone. At one point, I heard him say, “I'm up at Joe's place.” I gave Herb a bowl of soup, then he laid down to rest on the porch. I brought him a sleeping pad and pillow. After a short while, he got up to go back to the Grove. As Herb was driving away, I sat at my computer when suddenly I felt some weird pulses of vibrations coming from the southeast. Again, I felt my throat getting tight and numb. I had not felt anything like that for about a week. Making a mental note that Herb had just mentioned on the phone that he was “up at Joe’s place,” I thought maybe that call could have alerted someone to my presence there, and perhaps that had something to do with the weird vibrations abruptly returning.

  The bad vibes were off and on for the next two days as I gradually organized the van for another drive away from the farm. On Friday evening, May 4th, I drove over the Missouri River at Atchison, Kansas, and continued down to Lawrence. As usual, I've apparently escaped of “their” tracking system, as I have not been feeling any weird vibrations now for the last three days. Often I have thought that if “they” were that serious about continuing to assault me, they could have put a tracking device on my van. I wouldn't know where to look for such a device, and with modern technology, the thing could be extremely small. But it seems that no tracking devices have been on the van, because I generally seem to escape the torment when I drive sufficiently far and fast.

  On the farm, May 17th, 2018: I left here thirteen days ago to escape the weird vibrations. I Had not felt much of anything bad since leaving. For the most part, everything has been calm, with no tension or numbness in my throat area. Three days ago, on Monday I returned, and everything remained calm until just a while ago.

  Earlier today, I drove to town to renew my vehicle registration, get some groceries, and I picked up some movies from the Library. I wondered if checking out things from the library would alert certain people of my return, or maybe renewing my vehicle registration might have made my presence known. I am certainly not not looking for any bad vibes to return, though I couldn't help noticing that something hasn't felt right since I parked at Herb's house. Then I drove here to the farm, and my throat has been feeling stiff again. There is the slightest sensation of a vibration, ever so faint, yet it's enough to let me know that something is not right. Suddenly I am faced with perhaps another spontaneous escape from this place.

  It has been five days since I wrote that last paragraph. I rolled to Lawrence on Sunday afternoon, feeling free of the weird energy after I got far away from the farm. My first stop was at the Gaslight Tavern for the weekly open jam.

  The next evening, I went to Papa Keno’s for the open jam session. Shortly after I began playing my guitar, a middle-aged couple came out onto the back patio. Sitting at a table, they immediately lifted their phone-cameras and started recording me and the others. It felt wrong and it seemed out of place, and I turned away to keep my image from being captured, though I knew it was already too late. I felt nearly certain that those two were another pair surveillance people. The man went inside Papa Keno’s for a moment. When the woman continued to aim her camera-phone at me, I walked over to her and said, “Will you please stop pointing your camera at me?” I felt a strong urge to grab the beverage from her table and throw it in her face, but I restrained myself. She said, “Oh, Okay,” as she lowered her phone. When her partner returned, she whispered something to him and he looked at me. I glared at both of them, almost wishing for some terrible tragedy to fall upon them.

  I stepped away from the patio and walked down the alley, around the south end of the block, then north on Massachusetts Street. As I went through the front door of Papa Keno’s, those same two people were in there, appearing like they were leaving, though they seemed hesitant about what they were doing. They both acted surprised, even nervous about me suddenly being there in front of them. As they exited the place, I watched through the front window glass, observing their behavior as they went across the street and continued going north. Several times, the man turned back to look at me.

  I went out the back door to speak with the others. Of all my friends and acquaintances on the patio, none of us knew those two people. They were unfamiliar to all of us, yet they immediately started recording us when they arrived. One of my friends suggested, “Maybe they were just excited about the music and wanted to film it.” I replied, “That’s entirely possible, but that’s not how it felt to me.”   After all the years of being electronically assaulted, while also noticing the strange people following or photographing me, I felt more resentment and disdain for those creeps – working for an evil government, targeting innocent people, and living off of taxes like a bunch of parasites. Perhaps those who do the following and photographing are completely disconnected from, and unaware of the programs of electronic assault. Such may be the case with compartmentalized government operations. Perhaps it’s like the saying goes: “The left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.”

  While I can offer no proof that those two people at Papa Keno’s were spies or informants, my intuition strongly told me it was so. Many of these encounters might have gone completely unnoticed by me, had I not experienced the years of electronic assault, coinciding with incidents of surveillance. What the trauma has done is put me on high alert, making me pay close attention when people’s behavior becomes obviously strange and out of place. And though some people would call this paranoia, I call it awareness. There is a big difference.

  Little Farm, 17th of June: I was down in the garden, wearing the upper portion of a protective bee suit to keep the mosquitoes away from me while I hoed weeds. Suddenly I heard several guys on ATVs roll up near the driveway. They were noisily sitting idle, just outside of the driveway as I heard a voice yelling, “You wanna go first?” I got the impression that they were about to roll across the Little Farm bridge. (One of Herb’s cars had recently been vandalized, as someone had smashed out most of the window glass with a brick, and I was thinking about that incident when I heard these guys yelling.) Before they attempted to come onto the farm bridge, I emerged from behind some trees and bushes, and began to walk toward them with the hoe in my hand. As soon as they saw me, they all started driving away, crossing the county bridge toward the south. They were fat and bald, with mustaches on their faces. Their behavior was suspicious, and they seemed like cops. It was an intuitive feeling that occurred to me; they had that “cop vibe.” Then I had the thought that I should have waited behind the bushes to see what those guys would have done if they thought nobody was there. Would they have come onto the Little Farm? If so, then what? Feeling slightly disturbed about the encounter, I walked up the hill to my place.

  Later that night, I started getting heavily zapped. It was some of the strongest electronic assault I had felt in years, and I immediately began to pack the van for departure. I wondered if perhaps there was a correlation between the odd experience in the south driveway, and then getting zapped a few hours later. “It wouldn’t surprise me if some cops have been involved,” I said to myself as I began packing a few things into the van, planning to leave in the morning. I slept under the cardboard and aluminum shield which seemed to be blocking the assault. The zapping continued steadily through the night and into the next morning, as I finished packing for a drive to Lincoln. Putting away the ladder, turning off the propane, and locking the gates, I was frantic about trying to hurry away and escape the onslaught of bad energy.

  My niece, Nancy, had invited me to her wedding, scheduled to take place on the 23rd of June. So I drove toward Lincoln, five days early. For most of that drive, I felt like the vibe was still on me, though it was difficult to decipher with all the normal vibrations of rolling on the road.

  Arriving at Liz and Frank's place, I parked under the shade of a tree. (Frank in Nebraska is my sister’s husband, not to be confused with Frank from Missouri.) I felt rattled, yet uncertain if I was still getting zapped. Soon, however, I was totally feeling it. I began to notice that the attack seemed to be coming from a place in the southern sky, about forty-five degrees up from the horizon. In all the years I had been to visit Liz and Frank, I had never felt the electronic assault on their property. They had been on a ten-acre spread for many years now, and it was always a calm place of refuge for me. That afternoon, however, I went into the van three times, pulling the aluminum shield over myself, feeling relief while napping and sweating. The temperature was really hot that day, though I didn’t mind the heat; it was nothing compared to getting zapped. The first two times I came out from under my shield, I was still feeling the assault. The third time, however, all seemed calm, like the weapon had finally switched off.

  I felt really upset that I was getting targeted at Liz and Frank's farm. I told Liz about it, though she was preoccupied with wedding preparations. I asked her if she had told anyone of my presence there, over the phone or internet. She said, “I called Anne and told her you were here.”   “When was that?”

  “Not long after you arrived.”

  “Well, that would explain it.”

  For the next five days, I felt the usual symptoms of a numb throat and jaw area, pressure in my skull, and the continuing pulses of vibrations. Each night, I found relief by sleeping under the protection of my aluminum shield.

  On the morning of the wedding, I was talking to Frank in the living room when I suddenly felt strong electronic pulses coming from that same part of the southern sky. It was enough to make me spin around and go out the north door, through the mud porch. I went out the east storm door and immediately crouched down beside the foundation wall of concrete blocks, hoping it would shield against the oncoming assault. I did feel alleviation. It seemed that I had temporarily shaken whatever tracking system had been locked onto me. I stayed squatting there for several minutes, breathing sighs of relief, wondering how long until “it” latched onto me again. That last series of pulsations interrupted my chat with Frank. He had been speaking to me at the time when I abruptly turned around and left the room. A few seconds later, I was crouching near the north foundation wall.

  After I stood up and walked around the northeast corner of the house, all felt calm, as though I had successfully escaped detection for a while. But as soon as I returned to my van, leaning in to grab something, I felt the vibes latching onto me again.

  My brother Dave drove us to the wedding. It was at a Catholic church in Lincoln. As far as I could tell, the tracking system was still on me, still causing that constant numbness below my tongue, and the familiar pressure in my skull. The wedding was long and unbearably dull – a Catholic mass with an arrogant priest spouting words of ignorance. He was annoying. Moreover, I still felt like I was getting zapped by something in the southern sky. So I exited several times, noting a feeling of relief from the vibrations when I stepped outside the church and stayed near a north wall.

  When Dave and I left the church parking lot, we followed our nephew a few blocks east to a health food store, and I felt completely disconnected from the weird vibes, having apparently evaded them again. Then we all went to the reception, ten miles away, mostly to the west. For several hours, I felt free from the electronic assault. It was gone, and I knew I had broken free again. At the same time, I suspected that whenever I returned to my van, the bad vibes might return.

  Dave drove us back to Liz and Frank's property, and sure enough, when I opened the sliding van door and leaned in to grab a few things, I felt that weird energy going through me again. I started building a fire in the nearby fire pit, thinking, “What else am I going to do?” I smoked some cannabis through a carrot and continued putting sticks on the fire. Then people began to return from the wedding reception, mostly my nieces and nephews. Several of them were asking me to sing songs. So I strummed a guitar and sang, feeling like I was getting zapped the entire time. I tried to ignore the assault while I focused on the feeling of the music.

  After a while, I put the guitar away, thinking I needed to get ready for bed. Mostly, I wanted to pull the aluminum shield over myself for protection. It was undeniable, the relief I felt whenever I was using that shield during my time there. At one point, I said to myself, “The good news is that the shield seems to be working. The bad news is that it’s probably been a microwave weapon zapping me.”

  Waking up on Sunday morning, I pushed the shield to the side and immediately felt bad vibes, like a field of weird energy was being projected onto the van throughout the night. With the usual disturbing feelings of electronic assault going through me, I went through my morning stretches.

  Then I started organizing a small pack to bring to Colorado. My nephew Tom had offered me a ride, saying I could sleep on the couch in his apartment. So I accepted the offer. As we rolled further away from Lincoln, my anxiety began to diminish with the fading vibrations. During the early part of the drive, I told Tom and Katie about my ongoing ordeal with electronic weapons, while stressing that I did not want anyone on their phones, speaking or texting about me riding to Colorado. They both agreed to “keep it on the down-low,” and they didn't seem to think I was crazy when I told them my story. With each stop we made during the six hour drive, I noted the complete disconnect I felt from any hint of electronic assault.

  For a week I slept on the couch in Tom’s apartment. Each day while Tom and Katie were at work, I took long walks through the surrounding neighborhoods of Lakewood, feeling extremely grateful for the relief I was feeling. Most of that time, I was reluctant to log into my email or Facebook accounts, fearing the dreaded return of the electronic nightmare. I kept mentioning to Tommy that I had not felt any bad vibes ever since we drove to Colorado: “It’s been like a complete disconnect from any of that electronic weirdness. It’s such an obvious difference... I can tell that they’ve lost track of me again. They don’t know where I am.” Tom said, “Well, that’s good.” “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Everything feels totally calm... like it was for most of my life before all that weird shit started.”

  Then one day I took my computer a few blocks away to borrow the wifi signal from a tire store, making sure my VPN service was turned on. After looking at my email and Facebook accounts, I closed the computer and began to walk north, across Colfax Avenue. About midway up the next block, I suddenly felt an electrical kind of pulse coming from the northwest, and penetrating into my skull. Multiple thoughts raced through my mind, like, “Am I getting zapped? Was it just some cell phone microwaves flying by? Maybe it’s wifi signals.” Walking toward Tom’s apartment with my throat feeling strange, I took an indirect route, altering my course several times in an attempt to avoid being tracked or followed. At one point, I stepped into a creek and went under a bridge, partly as an attempt to decipher whether I was feeling differently down there, and also to shake off any type of electronic tracking system which may have been onto me.

  When I finally came back above ground, I ran toward Tom’s place and let myself in, breathing heavily from the running. Katie asked, “Are you okay? What’s going on?” Between deep breaths, I said, “I was just trying to… shake off a weird vibe that... I thought might have latched onto me...” As my breathing slowed, I told Kate and Tom what I had experienced after logging into my email and Facebook accounts. For the next several days, there were moments when I wondered if I was catching any weird vibes. I was no longer feeling the “complete disconnect” of the previous week. Instead, I was noticing occasional pulses of weird energy that kept me wondering.

  Then my sister Anne invited me to stay with her and Duncan. So I gathered my things and settled into a basement room in Arvada. For the first few days, everything felt calm and normal. But after talking on the phone and using the internet, I started feeling weird vibrations again. At times I wondered If it might be the nearby freezer or refrigerator causing the disturbance, so I would step outside the room, only to notice that those appliances were not running at the time; they were completely silent. Then I went upstairs to see if any fans were on. No fans were running. So what were all of these strange pulses of vibrations I kept feeling, and why was everything completely calm for the first several days? Initially, I was reluctant to talk on the phone or use the internet. Then I let down my guard, and everything went strange again.

  At times, it seems there is no escape. When I run into friends and relatives, they want to take pictures of me and post them on social media. They also text each other about seeing me somewhere. I began thinking, “Do I have to abandon everyone I know and move to another country?”

  For many years I had remained mostly silent about my ongoing experience with the electronic assault. In recent months, however, I had begun to tell more people about it.

  My cousin Janelle came to visit Anne’s family during the time when I was there. On the Fourth of July, Janelle and I were out at Tony’s place near a lake. As we talked under the shade of a porch roof, I began to relay most of my story to her. She was receptive, patiently listening, then she said, “Wow, Joe. That’s quite a story.” It was not in a tone of ridicule or doubt; she seemed to believe me.

  A few days later, I was riding in a car with my niece, Kim, and a few of her kids. While driving us through Westminster, Kim spoke of a friend, telling me, “Her dad had mental illness.” Then I noted a hint of ridicule in Kim’s voice when she said, “He thought the government was after him.” I interjected, saying, “How do you know they weren’t?”   “What?”   “Kim, I’ve been having my own struggle with the government. They’ve been messing with me for more than ten years.”

  “Really? What do you mean?”

  I began telling her my story, from being an outspoken activist, to the surveillance I had noticed at times, to the ongoing electronic attacks. When we arrived at her house, the conversation continued into the kitchen. I gave her many details, including the case of Pedro Campos in Puerto Rico, the podcasts with Doctor Katherine Horton and other targeted individuals, and the things Annie Jacobsen had spoken of on the radio. At one point, Kim said, “Uncle Joe, I believe you.” I replied, “Thanks, Kim. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

   Occasionally I talked with Anne about the disturbance. She said she believes me. I did not mention any of it to Duncan because I was fairly certain he wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t think he would keep the conversation between the two of us, since Anne told me that he cannot keep a secret about anything.

  The strange vibrations at Anne and Duncan’s house were off and on for several weeks. I took frequent walks to escape the disturbance, exploring the parks that run along Ralston creek. On days when I felt the vibe was still on me, I stayed for some time in the tunnel that goes under Simms Street, pacing back and forth, hoping the thick concrete would be enough to escape detection. Every time I went walking, which was several times a day, I always felt calm upon my return, like nothing was zapping me. Then the weird vibrations would start up again.

  When I first escaped to Colorado during the last week of June, I did not know how long I would be out here. I thought it might be a couple of weeks. Yet Anne kept encouraging me to stay longer, saying she wanted to throw a birthday party for me and two of my nephews. So I stayed around and tried to work on the book. A few weeks had gone by when I called Liz on the phone to discuss my eventual return to her place:   “Is it alright that my van is still parked there under that tree?”   “Oh yeah, it’s fine.”

  “Thanks. At some point, I’m gonna take the train from Denver to Lincoln. It arrives after three in the morning, so I don’t know what I’ll do. As much as I would like to see all of you, I might just get in the van and drive away. I want to go to a random place for a while, to see if everything remains calm. I need to know if there is some kind of tracking device on my van. I’ll leave you guys a note or something.”   “That’s alright, I understand. How’s it going out there?”   “I don’t know. I’m still getting some weird vibes at times. Whatever this is, and who ever has been doing it, I wish they would leave me alone. I’m sure they think they’re clever with all their technology, but they’re really just a bunch of cowards.”   “Yeah.”   “Anyway, I did escape to the mountains a few times, and that was nice.”

   Although my three treks to the tops of Colorado mountains were adventurous, the third trip was disturbing. In his truck, Duncan drove us to the base of Uncompahgre Peak in Southwest Colorado, where we camped for the night. Waking early, we began our hike at around 3:30 in the morning, and I was feeling a steady vibration going through me. Hiking up the trail, I wondered, “Am I getting zapped?” It most certainly felt like I was. I thought about Duncan using his GPS (Global Positioning System) when he drives anywhere. That would make our location known to certain people in government. We descended down the mountain and prepared to leave. Duncan was driving us along the rocky road away from there, when something strange happened. We passed a man and woman who were driving an off-road vehicle toward the base of the mountain, and as we went past them, the woman held up a camera and took a picture of us. Duncan and Tom both commented on the oddness of that occurrence. For me, it was a moment of verification – another incident of surveillance, along with the vibration I had been feeling that entire time; it bolstered my suspicion that I had been electronically assaulted all the way up and down that mountain.

  During the last week at Anne and Duncan’s house, I was feeling strange electronic pulses in other parts of the house, apart from the room I was staying in. Taking more frequent walks, I managed to avoid some of the weird vibrations. Near the end of August, I went to house-sit for Tom and Kate for five days. Everything felt normal and calm while I was there. The apartment was only a few blocks from a Denver Light-Rail train stop, so when Tom and Kate returned, I gathered my things and rode the W train to Union Station in downtown Denver.

  Paying with cash, I bought an Amtrak Train ticket to Lincoln, scheduled to depart that evening. My hope was to slip away from Colorado unnoticed, without being tracked. After seven or eight hours on the train, I rode a taxi to Liz and Frank’s place. The van battery was dead. Frank helped me with charging the battery before I drove east.

  In Maryville, Missouri, I stopped to buy some groceries, including a large bottle of Heineken beer. When the young lady at the register asked to see my identification, I asked, “Do I really look too young to buy this beer?” She said, “I’m required to ask everyone for their I.D. when purchasing alcohol.” I said, “That’s ridiculous, since I’m obviously way over the required age of twenty-one.” Then I pulled out my driver’s license and held it out to show her the date of birth. She took it from my hand and scanned it. When I heard the “beep” sound, I said, “Fuck! What did you do that for?” I put my right hand over my eyes, feeling angry and upset. After being so careful to get away from Colorado without being noticed by “the enemy,” suddenly I felt that I was likely on their control grid again. I asked the cashier, “Are you familiar with the book, ‘1984,’ by George Orwell?” She replied, “I’ve heard of it.” I said, “Maybe someday you might read it.”

    Upon returning to the farm, everything remained calm for about a week. On September fifth, I received a package that Anne sent from Colorado. That night, I started feeling the disturbing vibrations again, so I drove to Lawrence, getting some peace and calm for several days before returning to the farm. Throughout September, October, and November, the same pattern repeated: I would enjoy several days of calm on the farm, then disturbing vibes would return, so I’d pack a few things and escape to Lawrence.

  On Saturday, October 27th, I drove toward Lawrence. Passing through Oskaloosa, I turned west on highway 92 and went to visit Stan and Cathy’s home near Perry Lake. Shutting off the van in front of their house, I immediately felt the weird vibrations going through me. Stan came outside talking to me, and I was temporarily distracted from the vibrations. Inside the house, Cathy gave me a hug, and Stan poured me a glass of beer. They were inviting me to join them on the deck overlooking the lake, and to fly Stan’s drone while making video of the flight. But I was feeling that continuing, disturbing vibration, and though I really wanted to experience flying the drone and seeing the view from above, I knew I could not stay. Several times I paused, focusing on the electronic assault, then Stan said, “Are you okay, Joe?”

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I really wanted to fly the drone and drink this tasty beer, but I can’t stay.”

  “Is something wrong? You looked like you were having a moment of revelation there for a minute.”

  “Yes, something is definitely wrong. I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. But apparently I was too outspoken, and I became a target. The government has been messing with me for more than ten years. I used to carry a big sign that said, ‘The government did nine-eleven,’ and I really regret being that outspoken about things. Back then I was like, ‘freedom of speech, use it or lose it.’ I had no idea of the repercussions or consequences of speaking out against an evil government. I was so naive.”

  Tears were running down my face. I felt devastated, knowing that the perpetrators of electronic torture had tracked me to my friends’ home. It was no longer a place where I could feel safe, and that made me extremely sad. The last time I was there, which was about a week earlier, Stan had expressed interest in reading my book, and giving me his thoughts about it. So I put all of the chapters on his computer, including this one. Could that be the reason why the government criminals were now assaulting me there? I had never told Stan and Cathy about the years of electronic assault, feeling that they probably wouldn’t believe me. I hugged them both and drove away with tears rolling down my face. Arriving in Lawrence that evening, I detected no more of the bad vibrations.

  On Monday, November 19th, I left the farm for another escape to Lawrence. North of town, I stopped by a friend’s house near Wellman Road. It happened again. When I shut off the van, the vibrations were obvious. This was a place I had been to many times, for about fifteen years, and I had never felt the electronic assault there. I told my friend that I had to leave. When I got to Lawrence, everything felt calm and normal.  

  Though I did not feel any disturbing vibrations in Lawrence during these past few months, I did notice an alarming increase in the level of surveillance over me. It was completely obvious on many occasions. The surveillance continued in Wichita. The only reason I can fathom for the ridiculous amount of surveillance I’ve been seeing, is that the government criminals know I am trying to tell this story. In December of 2018, I drove to South Texas to avoid the cold weather. I was sleeping in my van every night. The surveillance over me continued in San Antonio, Port Isabel, South Padre Island, and El Paso. I could give many details as to how I know I’ve been under constant surveillance, yet I may save all of that for another chapter. It is just too much information to keep cramming into this chapter, and I am tired of all of it.

  While I was still in Wichita during early December, neighbor Marc emailed me some ebooks from Author Richard Lighthouse. Here are a few excerpts from his book, Targeted Individuals & the Air Force Space Command:

  “These medical doctors, scientists, and former intelligence agents have made statements

supporting the evidence that microwave satellite attacks are real, and happening on a global

basis:

Dr John R. Hall, M.D., author (“New Breed: Satellite Terrorism in America”)

Dr Daniel Lebowitz, M.D. (Senate Committee presentation, 2014)

Dr Barrie Trower, government Scientist, microwave expert (youtube videos)

Dr Katherine Horton, Oxford University Scientist (youtube videos)

Dr Spencer Carter, M.D. (BiggerThanSnowden.com)

Dr Colin Ross, M.D., author (“The CIA Doctors”)

Dr Robert Duncan, author

Dr Doug Rokke, government Scientist

Dr Eric Karlstrom, Professor

Dr Nick Begich, Scientist

Dr Paul Batcho, government scientist

Dr Paul Marko, Psychologist

Dr Curtis Bennett, Professor

Dr Corkin Cherubini, author

Dr Matthew Aaron, Scientist

Dr Sean Andrews, Scientist

Willam Binney, NSA Whistleblower

Kirk Weibe, NSA Whistleblower

Karen Stewart, NSA Whistleblower

Carl Clark, CIA Whistleblower

Kevin Shipp, CIA Whistleblower

Mark Phillips, CIA Whistleblower

John DeCamp, Army intelligence Whistleblower”

    “There are 4 active-duty squadrons within the 50th Operations Group, under the Air Force

Space Command. According to the Linkedin Profile of Charles Shurchay (Superintendent -

Air Force Space Command) there are 1,300 personnel, 7 DoD Satellite constellations, and 9

weapon systems that are operated under the 50th Operations Group. Clearly, these are not

simply communications satellites.

  Many of these satellites are positioned in geosynchronous orbit, and are part of a network that

includes communications, tracking, and attack satellites. Using the precise GPS coordinates

of any Targeted Individual, the coordinates can be transferred to local cell towers or UAV

drones for additional targeting. The GPS coordinates are accurate to +/- 0.5 centimeters or

better, which allows different body parts to be targeted and attacked in a grisly, daily ordeal.”

    In another of his books, Cell Towers and Targeted Individuals, Richard claims that most of these attacks on targeted individuals are coming from microwave cell phone towers. This would make sense regarding the attacks on the farm that I felt were coming from the southeast, as there is an array of cell phone microwave towers that are east of the farm, extending southward. According to Richard Lighthouse, these microwave attacks are being orchestrated by the United States Air Force, under the direction of the CIA.

  After all of the strange incidents of surveillance in Texas, I began having thoughts that I need to get this chapter out on a public internet forum. Then maybe the government criminals will leave me alone and let me finish my book. I hope so. Or they might kill me. I hope not. My computer started doing strange things after two creeps sat suspiciously close to me at some outdoor tables on Padre Island. Then I tried connecting to the internet in Port Isabel at several locations with public wifi, but it would not connect. I tried several more times on the way back to San Antonio, but could not get connected to any public wifi. After attempting to connect from outside a store in El Paso, a creepy helicopter came along, going fairly low when it flew directly over my van. That’s when I got back on the highway and drove all the way to Las Cruces and beyond. I went as far west as Tucson, and south to Bisbee.

  Then I started back toward the east. From New Mexico in the final days of 2018, I decided to drive north and go all the way to my sister’s place in Colorado. The government criminals know I am here. I am hoping to throw this document out there on the internet soon. I am not looking for anyone’s sympathy, I just want people to know that these microwave attacks are happening. Treasonous criminals are wasting billions of tax dollars to assault, harass, and torture innocent civilians in this country and around the world.  

  Feeling extremely weary of writing this story, I want it to be over. Not only has this been the most depressing chapter in my book, it has also been the most depressing chapter of my life, and I want this sad chapter to end.

[alleyskywalker]

Eurovision!

No liveblog this year but I wrote down comments while watching. (Bolded are the ones I want to go back to after, maybe download and am rooting for.)

Ukraine – catchy beat but the song overall kinda meh

Spain – pretty! I like this one!

Slovenia – I appreciated the non=English songs and this one is actually not too bad as far as Eurovision songs go.

Lithuania  - aww cute but not amazing or anything.  

Austria -Nice beat but not my type of song.

Estonia – I don’t usually like opera/operatic singing but there was definitely something about this song that really caught me. Also – wow? That’s some really high notes.

Norway – This fucking guy again? Never liked his songs still don’t. Go away.

Portugal – Not bad but didn’t catch my attention really.

Britain – I wanted to like you guys but nope :/

Serbia – this is a weird song. I don’t hate it but it’s weird.

Germany – Aww. And I actually do like this song. But I was really distracted by the fact that he sounds like Ed Shereen.

Albania – Hmmm….I can’t understand the lyrics but I’m pretty weak for the waltzy-procession music constructions. (I don’t know how to properly call it lol.)

France – Nice beat but meh overall.

Chez Republic – good fun!

Denmark – Huh. Weird. But also kinda cool.  

Australia – they always send really quality songs.

Finland – Mmm so-so.

Bulgaria –  Not bad but again nothing that stood out to me.

Moldova – Kirkorov wrote this? Actually I can kinda see that.

Sweden – Too much of a retro feel for my taste.

Hungry – Nice change of style but not my thing.

Israel – omg wtf

Netherlands – I think I like this just because everyone else hates or no reason other that because it sounds kinda American country so of course everyone gets whinny. Whatever guys lol.

Ireland – Yea, I liked this one.

Cyprus – I see why people like it. It’s catchy, though not quite my thing.

Italy -  I liked this better today than the last time I heard it. It’s not bad.

[raevfitta]

Eurovision Semifinal 1

I’m going to rewatch the first semifinal and go through the songs today because I don’t think watching on my phone, in the pub, gave me the best impression of the performances (it always prevented me from actively commenting.....). I will hopefully be able to do preview thoughts for the second semifinal in the afternoon so I feel “prepared.” This is a mix between my expectations, reactions, and general whininess. 

I can just comment that the Salty Swedish commenters went right for the throat when they commented how the Ukrainians decided that three young white men are how to “celebrate” diversity. Justtttt....

1.  Sweden Robin Bengtsson "I Can’t Go On" (Advanced to finals) - I complained during Melodifestivalen that this wasn’t my favourite song. And it still isn’t. I think that Nano and Wictoria had better songs and performances but whatEveR here we ARE with THIS. I always want Sweden to win (just so I can go to the final lolll) but to me this doesn’t sound like a winning song. It is Justin Timberlake lite and he just BOTHERS ME. He looks like if an alien were to try to create an attractive human from memory and something went wrong in the process. But in the Sea of Ballads that is this year, I at least enjoy that the song is “upbeat.” He doesn’t blow me away, needless to say. 3/5 And a question about this performance, are they not wearing socks???? 

2.  Georgia Tamara Gatjetjiladze "Keep the Faith" (Did not advance) - This semifinal was a slog to get through just because of (as the Swedish commentators pointed out) the Jamala effect. This song was three minutes long but felt soooo much longer. She looks like some one performing on the ferry to Finland. We trained but just meh. I think she had a decent voice and an okay performance but the song was just...so middle of the row. 3/5

3.  Australia Isaiah "Don't Come Easy" (Advanced to finals) - Other than the ballad trend, the X-Factor/Voice/Idol trend realllllyyyy bothers me. He sings really well but this song sounds like a fucking Idol final. This is the first Australia song that didn’t blow me away on the first listen. I fucking hate the stupid pictures of performers as the backdrop too so this song can go fuck itself. It has more drama live (except for that odd squeaking thing he did towards the end when he tried to reach a high note wtf was that) but loses points because of the spinning video of himself in the background. I knew it would go to the finals on reputation alone but that’s the same with Sweden. You’ve got to really phone it in to not make the finals from Aus and Swe. 3/5

4.  Albania Lindita "World" (Did not advance) - I could guess from the recorded version that she would not do well live and well, here we are. Eurovision continues its tradition of not being able to afford pants for female entrants and the men’s pants are getting shorter and shorter...This is another plodding ballad that is so empty of meaning. I’m not surprised this didn’t advance. Forgettable. 2/5

5.  Belgium Blanche "City Lights" (Advanced to finals) - I was so happy when this advanced. She still looks scared performing but I really enjoy the text and the tempo of this song. This is a song that grows on me and reminds me a little of Anouk’s “Birds” from ESC2013, which was another song that grew on me. I wish that Blanche didn’t look petrified of performing. It’s like she would rather be singing behind a partition or something. 4/5 

6.  Montenegro Slavko Kalezić "Space" (Did not advance) - The first upbeat song and of course it didn’t go to the finals. This has a bit of Modern Talking feel and is just classic Eurovision. His voice is not that strong live but he makes up for it with enthusiasm. He needed backup dancers or something because he looks sort of ... lonely... on the stage with only himself and his hair. But again the stupid fucking spinning images of the performer sour this for me. Entertaining and upbeat at least!!! 3/5 (They kept cutting to the crowd and they do not look like they are having a good time....and lol the app keeps telling me that there are tickets left the finale??? What???)

(And the hosts make me miss Petra, as much as I actively dislike her. They are like annoying little cousins that think they are funny but just UGH.)

7.  Finland Norma John "Blackbird" (Did not advance) - I didn’t enjoy this from the album but when I heard (and watched) this, this really grew on me. It reminded me (a little) of the Common Linnets from 2014. I guess it was a 50-50 if this or Belgium were going to go on and Belgium took it. She sings with passion and this song grows on me. Too bad, try again next year Finland. 4/5.

8.  Azerbaijan Dihaj "Skeletons" (Advanced to finals) - Fucking Azerbaijan. She was like WHISPERING as she sung and good LORD that stage performance looked like something a high school drama club would put on with the theme “how to make Eurovision memes but Italy already took Harambe so I guess Horsehead masks are still big right???”. This reminded me of SO MANY “middle of the road” Eurovision songs. Is there something wrong with her MIC? Just ugh. This is another song that takes a million years. Can she be Skeletor instead? 0/5

9.  Portugal Salvador Sobral "Amar pelos dois" (Advanced to finals) - Okay, finally a song not in English. I love the story behind this song and find the performance really charming, but the song is just not my cup of tea. It makes me think of something from a classic movie. It’s nice that it went to the finals and I like how it is an actual song with meaning behind its metaphors rather than just Random Metaphor Generated ballads like most of the other songs tonight. 3.5/5 (not a winner but a fine song. Gets an extra half point for not being in English)

(I can’t wait to watch the semifinal and final without the commentators. Måns is fine but good lordddd Edward af Sillén is trying too hard ughhhhh)

10.  Greece Demy "This Is Love" (Advanced to finals) - Another typical Eurovision song but at least it is upbeat and not a plodding ballad. She is a little weak live but at least she wasn’t “alone” with her strange swan-men backup dancers splashing around. She actually looks embarrassed to have them there (but that could be the permanent smile she has plastered on her face). Meh. 3/5.

11.  Poland Kasia Moś "Flashlight" (Advanced to finals) - (More like FLESHLIGHT, am I right you guys????? Hahhahhaaa I’m so funny) I always have a soft spot for Poland. I don’t dislike this song but it is another “slowly building towards some sort of drama” ballad. Bring back the butter churners. 3/5. 

12.  Moldova SunStroke Project "Hey Mamma" (Advanced to finals) - Epic Sax Guy returns and does not disappoint. Too bad this song sounds like a discount Jason Derulo song. Upbeat song at least trying something a little different and giving another classic Eurovision moment (and moments come Saturday). This might be one of the few songs I put on a playlist post-competition (I can say that right now this year seems more forgettable than usual....) and even though the dance is fairly basic I might have to start doing more Running Man dance moves 4/5 (bonus points for that fucking saxophone because Internet.)

13.  Iceland Svala "Paper" (Did not advance) - It is always discouraging when none of the other “Nordic” countries make it out of the semis. Sweden does not spread the love, clearly. This reminds me of a Greta’s entry from last year a little. I don’t understand how goddamned Azerbaijan goes to the final but this doesn’t. I think she needed some backup dancers or something because she doesn’t know what to do with her arms. Shame she isn’t going forward but this was an average song to begin with. 3/5. 

(God damn the hosts are CREEPY and the jokes are so like UGH. The only thing that is more aggravating is how Edward is reacting because he sounds exasperated....)  

14.  Czech Republic Martina Bárta "My Turn" (Did not advance) - Poor Czech Republic. I really want them to do well and not back out of the competition again. But poor Martina looks EXHAUSTED out there like she didn’t sleep last night. I enjoy this song and thought it had a chance to make the finals over some shittier songs (*cough* Azerbaijan *cough*). Charming song, shame it isn’t going forward. But it is good they found Belgium’s outfit from last year in an adult size. 3/5

15.  Cyprus Hovig "Gravity"  (Advanced to finals) - This is a song that grows on me. It reminds me a little of Hungary from last year. BUT DO THEY FORBID SOCKS AND PANTS OF A PROPER LENGTH AT EUROVISION? Catchy song, a decent stage performance (although we’ve seen it before). Don’t see it winning but I will enjoy listening to it on Saturday. 4/5.

16.  Armenia Artsvik "Fly With Me"  (Advanced to finals) - Finally something that makes the song a little more “unique” (honestly, none of the previous entries sound like they are distinct or come from a specific country). I wish this was a little more upbeat but at least the refrain sticks with you. 3/5

17.  Slovenia Omar Naber "On My Way"  (Did not advance) - Like the Nordic countries, I am always in support of the Balkan countries doing well. And this semifinal didn’t really start well. I don’t really MIND this song (it is a “musical” number so it sticks with you like gum on the bottom of your shoe.) It has the qualities of a Disney protagonist’s “going to get what I want song” but redone by a company ripping off Disney. Poor Slovenia. The text was really bad omgggg. 2/5

18.  Latvia Triana Park "Line"  (Did not advance) - This would have been a decent song if it didn’t sound like you were listening to it through the wall of your neighbour’s apartment. I’m not surprised this didn’t make the finals. I wish they could have brought a little more “power” or something to it. They had potential but potential doesn’t always mean results. 2/5. 

General comments: The stage looks poorly designed to me. The performers look generally uncomfortable with such an expansive space. But we’ll see how Semifinal 2 shapes up....

[borisbubbles]

3. MACEDONIA

Jana Burčeska - “Dance Alone” 35th place

GO GO WHOAAAAAAA!!!!

Yes, “Macedonia”. I support the Macedonian side of the argument, are you in tears??? Greece LOST my sympathy vote the second they subjected us to the OBNOXIOUS “Former Yugoslav Republic Of Macedonia” chyron, as if we can’t tell the difference between modern-day Macedonia and ancient Macedon by ourselves *MASSIVE EYEROLL*. Also, their insistence to call the country “FYROM” all the time X____X.

Anyway, this trashfest <3 It well and truly was love at first, second, third and infinite sight and it still is! I never expected Jana to qualify (lol she’s  Macedonian and this year isn’t 2012-levels of mediocre, let’s be honest), but evenso, she’s the ~ONLY~ NQ I’m well and truly sad about. :’(

RIP my fierce seraph :(

Initially, much like JOWST, I was drawn the song and perhaps even more so? Tove Lo-inspired synthpop directly hooked to my veins, YES times ∞. “Dance Alone” isn’t really complex but so, so, SO relistenable. Also, quotable. (I can’t even disentangle my favourite “Dance Alone” quote? All of them are so ~Strong Independent Wymyn~ flavoured). Her voice is the most ovine squeak ever <3

However, I was also immediately drawn to Jana as a human. You see, I’m a pretty avid watcher of reality television and one of my many favourite rtv archetypes is the “Abrasive, sarcastic bitch who deep down isn’t a bad person” (think Sandra Diaz-Twice, Deana Uppal, Gretchen Jones, the Twinnies, Luisa Zissman, Jun Song, etc). Jana IMMEDIATELY showed her true ASB colours by delivering this V I C I O U S stab at Former Basics Fave Rykka in one of her first interviews:

(ps: you should squat)

Epic Goddess deity shade <3 Fortunately, this was only the tip of the iceberg. Much like fellow secret sociopath Salvador, Jana enjoyed taking the mickey at the contest for the heck of it (why did people pretend it was a novel concept, it wasn’t. Don’t y’all remember SILVIA NIGHT??), but unlike Salvador she didn’t do it during the contest, which is much more charming. Instances such as these include:

Pretending she wasn’t able to sing and expressing in her interviews that she’s not a professionally trained singer but an amateur who was approached by the Macedonians as a last minute choice.

Reinforcing that notion by pretending to MIME during the London Fan Event (god the Youtube Meltdowns were glorious)

Delivering SUPER awkward, trolly interviews with Eurovision.tv (and ONLY them. Just the sheer imagination of Viktor & C° fuming in silent rage as Jana purposefully gives weird answers to all of their boring questions spins my world like a merry-go-round.)

Immediately glomming onto JOWST’s “live voices only” rule-change although she technically didn’t need it. <3

and the best of all:

DROPPING A FUCKING PREGNANCY BOMB DURING THE LIVE SHOW. <3 Like, she never mentioned she was preggerz before the semi final, I think? Not even during the many times Eurovision.tv tried to play Question Time with her lol. (are these people super professional or just straight-up mascochists? idk.)

Then there’s The Proposal. I’m inclined to toss it in with the the above moments because Jana’s juuuuust enough of a sociopath troll to stage it and steal the spotlight for shits and giggles (and again, she managed to keep her four month pregnancy a secret), and Aleksandr is enough of a loltard to go along with it, but whatever; It was an epic green room moment (literally the only one ever) and I’m THRILLED for her. Get It Girl <3

a good thing he didn’t think “hmmm i’ll wait until the finale :)”, huh?

All of this pretty much sums up why I really, really fucking love Jana. Sadly, she doesn’t entirely escape this year’s curse of “this is really good buuuut what if???” and even she wasted some potential. Allow me to share my ~thots~ on how  “Dance Alone” should have went:

(1) Jana shouldn’t have been alone on the stage. Yes, “Dance Alone” but taking it literally is never inspired, soz. Also, not with that backdrop and that choreography. It was reminiscent of Morgane’s LameDance,

which *IS* a top 2 moment of 1992 (along with Dafna Dekel’s backing bongoists lolwtf), but seriously, *so* amateur.  No, Jana should have started with her female backing group (best backings ever? possibly) on the stage, who would’ve dispersed to the background during the chorus. The backdrop should have featured silhouettes as if Jana were dancing by herself in a crowded discoteque, to facilitate the illusion of proverbial, not literal solitude.

(2) Add the male dancer from the video clip. (or any hot dancer. take Tijana’s as payment for selling your original song to them (lol that rumor <3)) Specifically, add him somewhere during the second chorus, but let Jana ignore him until the middle eight!! then have them make contact and have Jana look in his eyes while she goes “TAKE ME TO PLACES THAT I’VE NEVER BEEN” as he cradles her in his arms.

(3) Add a plot twist during the final chorus: Sample text while Jana dances with her new boytoy: “I WON’T DANCE ALONE. WHEREVER WE ARE, THE RHYTHM FOLLOWS. WE’RE LOST IN THE SOUND OF NO TOMORROW. I WON’T LET IT GO, WON’T LET IT GO NOW” Simple but efficient.

(4) Keep the original ending. Have the stage fade to black at the end, and ensure the male dancer is swallowed by the darkness. Close with “Wishing you could hold me close. :’(” as planned.

(also perhaps don’t make it appear like she’s wearing a trash bag.)

BOOM a few changes and you have a powerful, evolving performance which soups up the song’s flaws! Easy top five entry (for this ranking lol as if Jana was ever qualifying from that semifinal). Hire me, VRT (or at least pick Bazart/Emma Bale/Nathalia for our next entrant. kthx)

Sadly, while adding that VERY good intro to her song, Jana was on the stage by herself and forgot her closer. (or simply didn’t bother, which is more likely, now that I think of it <3). I still love it but those simple details cheapen “Dance Alone” greatly, so I can’t follow my heart and let her ~win~ this ranking. Whatever, she’s walking away from this experience with a husbear and a behbeh, so it’s clear that if anything, she’s the true winner in ~L*Y*F~ ::throws rose petals::

Decade rank: 28/324

THE 2017 RANKING SO FAR:

-ADORE- 1. 2. 3. Macedonia (28/324) 4. Norway (29/324) 5. Lithuania (43/324) 6. Hungary (47/324) -LOVE- 7. Moldova (55/324) 8. Italy (61/324) 9. the Netherlands (63/324) 10. United Kingdom (67/324) 11. Finland (68/324) 12. Estonia (71/324) 13. Azerbaijan (84/324) 14. Latvia (87/324) 15. Israel (93/324)

-LIKE- 16. Bulgaria (100/324) 17. Portugal (105/324) 18. Croatia (115/324) 19. Austria (119/324) 20. France (138/324) 21. Poland (154/324) 22. Armenia (158/324) 23. Romania (164/324)

-OKAY- 24. Iceland (174/324) 25. Ukraine (190/324) 26. San Marino (203/324) 27. Albania (217/324) 28. Denmark (228/324) 29. Spain (237/324) 30. Cyprus (240/324) -DISLIKE- 31. Germany (258/324) 32. Montenegro (263/324) 33. Sweden (270/324) 34. Serbia (275/324) 35. Australia (280/324) 36. Switzerland (286/324) 37. Czech Republic (288/324) 38. Malta (291/324) -HATE- 39. Georgia (301/324) 40. Greece (303/324) 41. Slovenia (307/324) 42. Ireland (312/324)

[littlefarmjoe-blog]

Waves                             Copyright 2018, Joe Avery

                                                The author grants permission for this document to be shared only in it’s entirety.

                                                          The author does not consent to allowing any portion to be taken out of context of the whole document.                      

    Excuse me for being naive, I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. Then I learned that by speaking about certain things, I became a target. It took a long time to understand what was happening to me. For more than ten years I have been repeatedly attacked, forced to live like a fugitive on the run, though I have done nothing wrong. These events have been written in chronological order, in the way it all unfolded for me. As time went by, the amount of evidence grew. This is not a story I want to be telling. I know it is likely to stir much criticism, ridicule, and slander against me. None of that matters. Many other people are enduring a struggle that is similar to mine. This is a story that needs to be told.

    For the first twelve years of living on the Missouri farm, there was a calm stillness that I never really thought about until it was overtaken by a strange vibration. I had lived here since 1995, and one night in October of 2007, everything changed. I was immersed in sleep when suddenly I was jolted awake by a weird, vibrating energy. It hit me with intensity. Whatever it was made me sit up in bed, directly out of a deep sleep. It was a low, humming vibration, and I could feel it going through me. It seemed like it was going through everything.

  Instantly I sat up, saying, “What the fuck is that? With my mind racing for a logical explanation, the first thing I imagined was that some heavy machinery was rolling down the road. I thought maybe it was the road grader or a big bulldozer. I looked at the clock, and it showed about two-thirty in the morning. Pulling back the covers, I got out of bed and walked out into the hallway. Then I made my way through the bus. I noticed that the tone of the vibration was not changing in the way you would expect it to, if it was coming from something moving down the road. It stayed at the same tonal vibration as I walked toward the back door of the bus. When I stepped outside and onto the porch, I almost lost my perception of the vibration. The sounds of the wind in the trees, the crickets, and the frogs were making it difficult to “hear” the vibe. Yet as I stood there and focused my mind, I could feel it going through me.

  This weird vibration continued into the next day and for many days that followed. It was disturbing. At random times of the day, I paused and paid attention to decipher if it was still going. Most of the time, it was. There were moments when I didn't perceive it, but it kept coming back. I told other people about it, though no one seemed interested. One day when several people were sitting in the bus, I focused my mind to determine if the vibration was happening, and it was. I asked my visitors, “Do you guys hear that low, humming sort of sound?” They all paused and listened, then they said they didn't hear anything. I explained, “It's not really a sound, it's more of a vibration... a very low vibration.” Still, they didn't notice it. I was baffled and concerned about whatever this was, and it was beginning to really bother me as the days went by.

  Before all of this began, I had been planning to take a trip through Europe for several months. A roofing job in Wichita that summer had earned me enough money to make it happen. So I was at the farm, preparing for my trip when these weird vibrations started happening. As the days went by, I became more concerned about the bad vibes, and I grew more anxious to leave. When I finally left near the end of October, I felt relieved to be away from it all.

  After a few days of Halloween festivities in Lawrence, Kansas, I prepared for a trip eastward. I took a train from Lawrence to Chicago, and another train to Boston. Then I rode a bus to New York City. From there, I flew across the Atlantic Ocean. I spent five months traveling through Sweden, Germany, Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. In April of 2008, I returned to North America, and after some time in New York City, I rode a train to Chicago and another train to Lawrence.

  When I returned to the farm, I did not notice the weird vibration for a while. Eventually though, it became apparent again. Sometimes it would abruptly appear and continue for many hours. Other times, it seemed to be coming in waves, fluctuating between strong and mild vibrations. When people came to the farm, I would ask if they felt the vibes, though they always said they didn't notice anything.

  Then one day I called Frank on the phone. When I told him about the weird vibrations, he asked, “Is it like a low-frequency kind of thing?”

  “Yes! A really low, humming sort of vibration.”

  “I've been getting it for a couple of years.”

  “Really? What is it? What do you think it is?”

  “They're fuckin' with us, Joe.”

  I knew that Frank was speaking of the government, or at least some rogue elements within the government. In my mind, I had already considered that possibility, though I did not want to believe I was dealing with such a thing. I didn't know what it was. I only knew that I definitely felt it. It was really strong at times, vibrating through all of my body, through my skull, my eyeballs, and my organs. It seemed to be going through through all of my cells. Whatever it was, I didn't like it.

  For years I endured this weird vibration, and it always bothered me. Sometimes it was extremely “loud,” feeling like it was penetrating through every fiber in my body. Other times it was more subtle, yet it was almost always happening. Pictures entered my mind: images of government creeps somewhere with their hands on a dial, turning the intensity up and down while pointing electronic weapons at different targets around the world.

  Was I a target? Had I become a target? I began to speculate.

  Early in 2006, I rode with a group of about twenty people as we traveled to the city of Washington, to protest against the war in Iraq. It was cold, winter time. We held our signs outside of the Pentagon as hundreds of civilian and military personnel went into and out of the building. The cops pushed us around, yelling at us to get back off of the sidewalk. They took pictures of us. We also marched around outside of the capitol building with our signs. Some people in our group were arrested.

  Many times during the years of 2006 and 2007, I walked around with a big sign in my hands, which read: “9-11, The government did it.” I carried a sign like that during the Rainbow Gathering in Colorado, in July of 2006. I was handing out websites and information to people. Some law enforcement officers took pictures of me holding my sign. Two months later when September eleventh came around, I paraded with my sign through downtown Lawrence. Irritated that so many people still believed in the “official” version of “Nine-Eleven,” I felt it was my duty to tell the truth. I ended up on sixth street near the river. It was rush-hour traffic with many cars going by. Some people gave me thumbs up, other people cussed at me. One woman drove by, yelling, “You should be arrested for treason!” I laughed and waved as I said, “For exercising my freedom of speech.” A year later, on the eleventh of September, I walked through downtown Wichita with my sign. A strange woman stepped around the corner of a building, lifted a camera and took a picture of me. Then she quickly disappeared.        

In addition to carrying my sign, I was also passing around DVDs containing documentary films about the attacks of Nine-Eleven.

  So I had put myself out there in the streets and on the trails while people had taken pictures of me. And there was Myspace. A friend showed me this website where I could upload my own music, putting it out there for the general public to hear. I thought that was great. Over time, however, I went far beyond sharing my songs. I connected with “9/11 truth” groups through Myspace, posting many articles and documentary films about the false-flag attacks of September Eleventh, 2001. I began to see the internet as a valuable means of sharing information and getting the truth out to people. These things were all happening in 2006 and 2007, in the year or so that led up to my first experiences with the bad vibrations at the farm.

  After one of my trips to the East Coast, I rode a Greyhound bus from New York City to Wichita. We made several stops in New Jersey, and at one of those stops, a peculiar woman boarded the bus. She sat in a seat across the aisle from me, on the right-hand side of the bus, and about four or five seats forward. She turned to look at me for a few seconds, then she turned back toward the front. It seemed weird and out of place. The bus driver announced that there would be a fifteen-minute smoke break at the next stop. When the bus stopped, most of the passengers unloaded themselves out onto the sidewalk, some smoking cigarettes and some going inside the convenience store. I stepped out of the bus, walked past the bench and the smokers, and I went into the store. Wandering down a few aisles, I saw nothing I wanted. So I went out the door, turned right on the sidewalk, and walked past the bench. The woman who had looked at me so intently in the bus, she was now sitting on the bench. The moment I walked by, she held up a camera and took a picture of me. I was fully aware of that as I was stepping up into the bus. It appeared to be a regular digital camera, not a cell phone. Cell phone cameras were not as prevalent back then. Returning to my seat, I felt annoyed that another stranger had just taken my picture. I decided I was going to say something to her when she got back in the bus. But she never did. While all the other passengers had returned to their seats, that strange woman did not.

  Other incidents like this have occurred, though I don't recall some of the details. I do remember a moment when I was in a crowded bus station somewhere out west, high on cannabis, on a layover between bus trips. Suddenly a man walked over to me, held a camera directly in front of my face, took a picture of me, then he quickly turned around and vanished into the crowd. Again, it was a traditional camera, not a cell phone. I remember saying, “What the hell was that all about?” After many encounters like this, it seemed apparent that there was a network of government creeps keeping a watchful eye on outspoken citizens.  

  So, am I a target? Is there some kind of electrical device, a secret weapon that has been getting pointed at me? That's what it has felt like, though I considered other possibilities. Did these weird vibrations have anything to do with the wind farms that are south of the Farm? All of those giant wind generators, anchored deep into the ground, could they be the cause of all the disturbance I was feeling? Were these vibrations coming from those microwave cell phone towers that are east of here? I did not know.

  Many times when the vibes were extremely intense, I felt like I was definitely getting zapped by something. It was difficult to concentrate on working when everything was vibrating. My head and chest, especially, were just humming with these vibrations. Walking around on the farm, I asked, “How can other people not feel this?”

  I felt helpless to do anything about it. Where does a person go with such a complaint? There is no number to call, no complaint form to fill out, and no legal course of action to deal with a disturbing mystery such as this. Most people would never believe or understand any of it. So I lived with it for many years. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of nights, I slept through the constant droning, feeling like there was nothing I could do, and that it was beyond my control.

  In 2011, Jen was coming to visit me on the farm. I had told her about the weird vibrations. Then one night as we lay in bed, she suddenly said, “Hey… I think I feel that vibration you were talking about.” I asked, “Really? You feel that?” She answered, “Yeah... that's weird.” As we talked about it, I felt glad that she noticed it. Finally, someone else had acknowledged this strange vibration in my living space.

  It was depressing, having to endure whatever this was, especially after investing twenty years of my life into this homestead. I had grown fruit trees, blueberry bushes, and grapevines. I built elaborate structures to make everything around here run smoothly, yet many times I felt that I might have to abandon all of it, just to get away from the bad vibes.

  One of the wind farms is about sixteen miles south, sprawling around the town of King City and extending for miles in different directions. Some wind generators are close enough to see through my binoculars. Another wind farm is approximately ten miles to the southwest. Many of those enormous wind generators are out there turning their huge blades, surely causing vibrations in the ground. They are so tall that they must be anchored very deep under the surface. All of them have three spinning blades, and each blade was an entire load on a semi-trailer truck. They are massive. Many times I considered the possibility that they might be the source of the vibrations I had been feeling. I researched information about the wind farm around King City, learning that it first began its operations in the autumn of 2007. Interesting, I thought, because that was when I first started feeling the vibrations. I hoped that was the cause. It was less disturbing than the idea of getting zapped by an electronic weapon. For the next couple of years, I wanted to believe that the weird vibrations were a result of the local wind farms.

  But the theory of the wind farms being the cause was not making any sense. There were days when no wind was blowing, and I could look through my binoculars to see that the wind generator blades were not turning, yet the vibrations would be going strong. Other times, it was windy with the generator blades turning, though the vibrations were not occurring.

  On every occasion when I returned to the farm after being gone for weeks at a time, the vibrations were not happening. For several days after my return, I'd notice that calm stillness that was the norm during my first twelve years of living on the farm. I missed that calm, and I hoped it would stay. After a few days of being home, however, the vibrations would return. This has happened over and over again. I began to notice that the vibrations always seemed to appear within a day after I logged in to my email account or Facebook. Was this just a coincidence? Or was I alerting someone that I was home again, by logging in on a computer? I paid more attention to this, and I began to restrain myself from logging in too soon after returning home. Yet I'd still get on Herb's computer and look at some of the websites I usually visit. Then the vibes would start up again.

  I often talked to Herb about it, and he would suggest that maybe I was hearing the “humming” of the power lines that run along the road where I live. I told him, “I have heard the electrical humming sound you're talking about, and that is not the source of the vibrations. Those power lines were already there during the first twelve years that I lived here, and I never felt the weird vibrations until October of 2007.” As the years kept rolling by, I continued to have bad experiences with all of this, and I occasionally mentioned it to Herb. Over and over again, he would talk about the power lines, and I became more frustrated and annoyed by his continuing response:

  “Those power lines make a humming sound, sometimes.”

  “What I've been experiencing is a vibration, not a sound.”

  “Sound is vibration.”

  “I understand that, Herb. But not all vibration is sound, and these vibrations I'm talking about, I don't hear them with my ears, I feel them in my body.”

  Although I had explained to him on many occasions that what I am feeling is like a beam of energy going through me, vibrating every cell in my body, Herb never seemed to listen.

  There were few people that I ever mentioned it to because most people would not understand what I was talking about. Occasionally someone in Lawrence or Wichita would ask, “How are things at the farm?” Sometimes I mentioned the bad vibes, then I'd find myself going into a long explanation, detailing my experiences with it. Most people have no frame of reference to understand what I was describing to them, and most people appeared to be uninterested. So mostly, I kept it to myself.

  Many nights I could not sleep because the vibrations were too intense. I would drive down the gravel road to Herb's house, attempting to sleep on the extra bed. “Sorry to wake you, Herb. I'm getting zapped way too hard over there.” Yet even as I lay on the guest bed at Herb's house, I could feel the vibrations going through me, almost as strong as they were on the farm. At the farm, the disturbance seemed to be coming from the southeast. Whatever was going through me, it continuously felt like it was coming from the same direction. When I was at Herb's house, it still seemed to be coming from the southeast, although slightly more from the east. Herb lives about a mile and a half to the west of the farm. I began to wonder if the vibrations were coming from the town of Albany.

  Increasingly I became annoyed and enraged about the ongoing disturbance. Trying to work, clean, cook, or do anything was a struggle with the constant humming going through me. I was becoming more angry and irritable, saying, “God damn these fuckin' vibes! What the fuck? How can other people not feel this? This is fuckin' ridiculous! I can't stand this shit!”

  The only time I got some peace was when I left the farm and drove far away from it all. So I left many times, making my escape to Lawrence or Wichita. Sometimes I went to visit Melissa, up near Des Moines. I often told her about my struggles with the bad vibes. She was one of the few people who actually listened and really talked with me about it.

  In April of 2015 I was visiting Luke, down in Lawrence. He had a computer on in the kitchen as he was watching and listening to a broadcast of Democracy Now. It was Tuesday, the 21st of April. They reported on a story about a man named Pedro Albizu Campos, in Puerto Rico. During the 1950's, he was organizing protests against American sugar companies that were exploiting Puerto Rico's sugar cane fields and the people who worked in them. Campos was arrested and spent twenty-six years in prison. He wore wet towels around himself, claiming that he was trying to protect himself from radiation, because the United States Government was pointing an “atomic” weapon at him. He complained of severe headaches and burns all over his skin. Photographs revealed his wounds. Journalists who reported on this case appeared to be laughing at his claims about the U.S. Government. He was being presented as a crazy person who was merely delusional. After his release from prison, other inmates who occupied the same prison cell complained of severe headaches and of feeling like their skin was being burned. Campos continued to wear wet towels after his release from prison, claiming he was still being targeted at his home. After many decades passed, research into declassified documents revealed that the United States Government did, indeed, have a secret weapon that was being aimed at this man. They intended to discredit him by making him appear to be delusional and insane. This was in the 1950s. It is now admitted by the FBI that these things occurred. This was happening more than sixty years ago! It is no far stretch of the imagination to consider the possibility that some kinds of secret electronic weapons are still in use, and with a far greater degree of technology involved.

  As I mentioned earlier, I had spent many years on social media, posting documentary films and articles that expose corruption in the government. First, it was on Myspace, and eventually I was posting things on Facebook. I began to receive the occasional “Log-in alert,” informing me that someone near Richardson, Texas had logged into my Facebook account. So I changed my password. But after a while, I'd receive another alert that someone had logged into my account, again from Richardson, Texas. It happened nearly a dozen times. I also received alerts that my account was logged into from Jefferson City, Missouri, on two occasions. I became annoyed by this, and I began to deactivate my account for weeks or months at a time. Many times I returned to the farm after being gone for a week or more, and I always noticed that the vibrations were not happening. For several days I'd be grateful for the calm serenity. Yet again, when I logged into my email or Facebook account on a computer at Herb's house, the vibrations would start up again. It always happened within a day of logging onto a computer. This fueled my suspicion that I was being targeted and assaulted.

  Frequent headaches tormented me, and I felt that the vibrations were the cause. Also, my guts were churning all the time. Getting the runny shits, I was having to go to the outhouse several times a day. I often said to myself, “They are zapping the shit out of me.” Continuing to work on the farm, I tried to ignore the vibrations. What else could I do? I could leave the farm, as I had done many times before, running and hiding from whatever the disturbance was.    

  Occasionally I would talk about my ongoing problem at the farm, though I only talked about it with people I trusted. Melissa had emailed me some information about wind-farm vibrations. I read of people's complaints, and some of their descriptions of the vibrations were similar to what I had been experiencing. One person described it as “a loud noise that you feel inside your body.” Others complained of headaches and of having trouble sleeping at night. But all the people I read about were those who lived within a mile of wind generators. I was at least ten miles away from the nearest wind farm, though some of the wind towers seem to be closer than that. Could I really be feeling wind generator vibrations from several miles away? Melissa told me that only a small percentage of the population can feel low-frequency vibrations. Again, I tried to believe that the wind farms were the cause of my misery.  

  However, there were many times when I conducted a little experiment while I was getting zapped. I would be standing in any random location on the farm, feeling the vibration going through me. Then I'd quickly run to another random spot, twenty or thirty yards away, and stop. For about two seconds I felt the calm, then the vibes would be going through me again. It was like something was following me, and it took a couple of seconds for it to catch up with me. I did this experiment many times, and I always got the same results.

  In late August of 2015, I escaped to Lawrence to spend my birthday with some friends, and to get away from the bad vibes. One afternoon I went to the library and logged onto my email account. In an email to a friend, I wrote that I would be at the Replay Lounge on Sunday evening, to hear Truckstop Honeymoon play their music on the patio. It would be on the 30th of August. I also re-activated my Facebook account so I could get in touch with a few people. I wrote in a “private” message to someone on Facebook, that I would be at the Replay on Sunday evening. When Sunday arrived, I made my way to the Replay and went in. It was still early, so I decided to go visit Luke, then come back. When I returned, a bigger crowd had gathered as the band was getting ready to play. I went to the front of the crowd. Then I noticed a woman holding a camera with a huge lens attached to it. She was standing near the south side of the stage. Every time she held up the camera, she pointed it directly at my face. I thought that was strange. She was only about ten or fifteen feet away from me, with this gigantic lens. Continuously I watched her, and she never aimed that camera at anyone in the band, nor anyone else in the crowd. Not even once. Every time she held up the camera, she was pointing it directly at my face. I pondered over the many times I had been followed and photographed by creepy people. I also thought about the fact that I had told people, through email and Facebook, that I would be at the Replay Lounge that evening. Then there was this strange woman with the gigantic lens. She gave me the same weird feeling I have always felt whenever I noticed some creeps following or photographing me. She wore a T-shirt which said, “REBEL” in big letters across the front. It looked to me like it was meant to be a part of her fake outfit, in her fed-like attempt to fit in with the Replay crowd. She took multiple pictures of my face, then she left. I wanted to confront her but then I decided to just let it go.

  I returned to the farm. For several weeks I wondered why on earth anyone would need a telephoto lens to take pictures of me from a mere twelve-to-fifteen feet away. Then one day, it all became clear to me. Someone mentioned retina scans and the idea of the government collecting peoples' retina images. Retina patterns are like fingerprints, unique to each individual. I said, “Fuck! That makes a lot of sense. Now they probably have my retina images in some kind of weird data base.”

  It angers me when I think of all of the evil things our government is doing. Yet I often find a certain comfort in knowing that someday we will all be gone. Everyone must die, including all of those government pawns who are doing evil deeds. I wonder how they live with themselves. I wonder how they sleep at night. They seem to have no conscience.

  One evening the vibes were too intense and I had to get away. It was Saturday night, the 26th of September, in 2015. I began to load some things into the van, like my sleeping bag, pillow, drinking water, some bread, and a toothbrush. I drove west and then turned north on another gravel road. I stopped several times along the way, shutting off the engine to decipher whether I was still feeling the vibes. Every time I stopped, the vibes were clearly apparent. When I got to the blacktop road, I turned left and drove west, then I turned right onto another gravel road. I drove up to Poff's pond, several miles from where I live. After parking the van, I was still feeling the vibration. Again, it felt like it was coming from the southeast. Exhausted, I laid down in my sleeping bag and slept through the bad vibrations.

  When daylight arrived, the vibration was still going through me as I went outside to pee in the grass. It was Sunday morning. I got back in the van and drove north on the gravel road to Alan's house, and I parked in his driveway. When I turned off the engine, the vibes were still obvious. I wanted to ask Alan or Trish if they could feel the vibrations that were so apparent to me. As I walked around in the front yard, no one in the house appeared to be awake yet, and I didn't want to bother them. So I got in the van and drove back down the gravel road toward the highway. A car showed up behind me, and the driver seemed to be in a hurry to get around me. As we approached the highway, I pulled over to let that car pass me. Then I shut off the van to determine if the vibes were still happening. They were not. It was the first time in a while that I felt the calm stillness. Half-joking, I said, “Maybe the vibes followed that other car.” I felt relieved to have a few hours of peace before the bad vibes returned in the evening.

  The next day was Monday, the 28th of September. I was working on the second floor of the water-house structure, and the vibes were going strong. Suddenly, the vibrations abruptly stopped. It went from very strong vibrations to completely calm. In that precise moment, hundreds of birds launched themselves up from the nearby trees, just to the east. It was as though they were reacting to the sudden change. The timing was exact, as the vibrations quit and the hundreds of birds went up and out, over the Little Farm pond. They circled around, then settled back into the same trees they had been perched in. I climbed down the ladder and went inside the bus to write about the occurrence in a notebook. This was the first of many entries I began to make as I started keeping a journal of my experiences with the vibrations. While I was writing in my notebook, Herb and Frank rolled up in the north driveway. (I had been using Frank's generator to run some power tools, but it had stopped working, so Frank came over to help me get it running again.) I stepped out onto the porch and started telling Frank what had happened with the birds.

  As we worked on the generator, Frank and I talked about the vibrations. Frank was the only person who had any idea of what I was dealing with, as he claimed to have had a similar experience for about two years. He said, “It felt like I was getting hit with a microwave beam or something.” I replied, “That's what it feels like to me, too.”

  Herb stayed out of the conversation, though he attempted to change the subject a few times. Frank and I continued to talk about the vibrations. Then Herb mentioned the sand plant, four miles to the south, as a possible cause of the vibrations. I reminded him that the sand plant was already in operation for the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, and that the vibrations were not happening during those years. Then he said, “Maybe they got some new equipment.”

  I was growing irritated with Herb's continuing denial of what I was experiencing. He frequently mentioned the power lines, and now it was the sand plant. On many occasions I had described to him, in great detail, all of the things I had been experiencing with the bad vibes. He apparently never listened. If he had been listening and really trying to understand, then he would not keep suggesting ridiculous theories about the probable cause. It became apparent that the thought of anything intentional or sinister was too much for his rational mind to handle, so he would mention the power lines, again and again. It was like he thought my experiences were merely my imagination, and that was beginning to annoy me. It is not, nor was it ever my imagination. I am a rational person who had been trying to understand what these vibrations were, and where they were coming from. I did not want to believe that I was being targeted, yet the notion of electronic weapons became a more rational explanation than any other theories put forth by anyone.

  That same night of September 28th, the vibes came on very strong. I was trying to sleep but I couldn't stand the way I was getting zapped. I wrote in my Journal: Vibe came back strong after 10pm. I am leaving to sleep somewhere else. Maybe in van at Poff's pond.

  Into the van, I loaded my sleeping bag, five gallon water jug, guitar, notebook, toothbrush and toothpaste. I drove down to the Grove and parked in front of Herb's house. The vibes were still going strong. I got back in the van and drove a few miles up to Poff's Pond. When I shut off the van, I could feel the vibes just as much. So I drove back to Herb's house, then back to the farm. More bad vibrations. I was getting extremely irritated with all of this, feeling more and more like I was being assaulted by something, but not knowing what to do.

  Loading a few more things into the van, I decided that I would go all the way up to Frank's house. He was up near Denver, Missouri, more than twenty miles away from the farm. I thought that surely I could find some peace if I drove that far away. Stopping in the town of Gentry, I turned off the van. The vibes were still zapping me. So I drove north on 169, then a gravel road to the east. When I was nearing the corporate hog farm on highway M, I stopped again, shutting off the van to see if the vibes were still happening. They were. Then I drove the rest of the way to Denver, pulled up in Frank's driveway, and parked. When I turned off the engine, I felt the vibes. I was still getting zapped. Laying my forehead on the steering wheel, I felt like crying.

  Frank came outside, saying, “Hey Joe, I was just thinking about you. They're talking about microwave weapons on the radio.” It was about one-thirty in the morning, and Frank had been listening to Coast to Coast, a.m. I got out of the van and told Frank that I was getting zapped hard, and that the vibes were following me.   “I stopped in Gentry, and the vibes were still happening. Then I stopped near the hog farm. The vibes were still going.”

  “Are you feeling it here?”

  “Yes. I could feel it in your driveway as soon as I shut off the van.”

  We went into the house. A woman's voice came through the radio, talking about secret weapons in use by the military. Her name is Annie Jacobsen, and she is the author of such books as The Pentagon's Brain and Operation Paperclip. As Frank and I listened, several people called in to the program, asking about the microwave weapons, so she would then return to that subject.

  When the commercials came on the radio, Frank turned it down and we talked. I told him, “These vibes are weighing heavy on me. I don't know what to do.” Frank said that the woman on the radio had been describing these microwave weapons as the most accurate weapons in use by the Pentagon, and that they can target and track individual people. He told me how they can look through walls with their infra-red technology, and read people's “heat signature.” I asked, “Heat signature?” Frank said, “Everyone emits a unique pattern of body heat, and certain people can be identified by these patterns.”

  Suddenly a few pieces of the puzzle were connecting together in my mind. If I was being targeted, tracked, and followed, then it would make sense that the vibe was still with me as I drove around to all of those different places. If there was some kind of an energy beam or microwave beam being directed specifically at me, then maybe that's why I was feeling it when no one else around me could feel it. And I thought about Jen visiting me, back in 2011. The night she said she felt the vibration, we were lying in bed with our arms and legs wrapped around each other. We were physically as close as two people can possibly be. Perhaps she was feeling some of the vibe that I was getting zapped with.

  As I contemplated these realizations, Frank wondered if he could feel the vibes while standing near me. But he kept saying, “I'm not getting anything.” He spoke of the two years when he felt like he was getting assaulted by something. “I thought it was my neighbor for a while,” Frank said. “I thought he had a microwave dish pointed at me or something.” Frank mentioned that when he was in the navy, he knew of some guys on the ship who would point a microwave communications dish at an unsuspecting sailor and start zapping him. Frank said they did this for fun, pointing the dish at someone they didn't like, then they'd laugh as they watched the guy's reaction. So Frank thought his neighbor had been doing something similar to him. He said that over time, however, he began to suspect that this was some kind of secret weapon being used by the government.

  I told Frank that everything in my life was in question.

  “All these years I have invested my time, energy, and money into my homestead at the Little Farm. I've planted fruit trees and built so many things, and I keep feeling like I'm going to have to abandon it all. Every day I am toiling away, trying to get a roof over the big structure I'm building. But lately I've been wondering, What's the point? What is the point in continuing with any of that stuff if I'm going to keep getting zapped all the time? I can't take this shit anymore.” Breaking down with tears in my eyes, I started crying. I continued talking through my tears, about what I would do. “Maybe I need to disappear from the farm and just roam around the country with a backpack. Maybe I'll go south every winter. I don't know what else to do. I'm not gonna stay at the farm and just keep getting zapped.”

  Frank was trying to figure out a way to ease my sorrow.

  “Joe, do you want me to make you a foil hat?”

  “A what?”

  “Aluminum deflects microwaves. That's why some people wear hats made of aluminum foil.”    I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Sure,” I said, “Why not? I'll try anything.”

  So Frank went into the kitchen and promptly fashioned a foil hat for me. He put it on my head, then I pulled it on for a tighter fit. Frank asked, “Is it working? Do you feel any difference?”

  “I don't know. I'm tired, I wanna crash.”

  “You can sleep in the bedroom. I'm gonna lay on the couch.”

  As I went to lie on the bed, with the vibrations still going through me, I muttered to myself, “There is no way in the world that these weird vibes have anything to do with those wind farms. Fuckin' wind farms couldn't follow me another twenty miles away.”

  When I woke up, it was daylight. I was still feeling the vibes. After I went to pee, I picked up Frank's phone to call Herb. He answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Herb, it's Joe.”

  “Hey, where you at?”

  “I'm up at Frank's. The vibes were following me around last night. I was still getting it in Gentry. Also near the hog farms, and all the way up here in Denver. Those wind farms couldn't possibly have anything to do with this. Wind farms couldn't follow me to Denver. And there was a lady on the radio last night, talking about microwave weapons and other energy weapons that are used by the Pentagon. I am now convinced that I've been getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon.” Herb was saying, “Uh huh, Uh huh...” I could hear the doubt in his voice.

  I drove back to Herb's house, and immediately I felt the vibes. When I got back over to the farm, the vibes were still going. I thought of what Frank had said about aluminum deflecting microwaves, so I went into the aluminum Airstream Trailer to see if I could feel a difference. There were several windows, and I could still feel the vibes near them. Then I found a spot toward the back end of the trailer and I squatted down to the floor. The vibes appeared to diminish. I went back into the bus and wrote my findings in the journal.

  The next day was Wednesday, the 30th of September. I continued writing in my journal: Surprisingly calm today. Have not noticed vibe so far. 2 pm. Wind is from the north and cool today. Highs in the 60's. 4:42pm – Started feeling subtle waves over the past hour. Almost imperceptible.

  1:23 am, October 1st – Feeling vibes in waves. Mild, so far...

  7:56 am – Woke up to the vibes a while ago. Got the wood stove going and went to the shitter. Not noticing the vibe now, because of the sound of the wood stove burning. 10:15 am – Vibes became apparent again, and I went to see if Airstream aluminum made any difference. It most certainly seemed to diminish the vibe. When I was close to the windows, I could feel it more, but when I hid behind the walls blocking the vibes, as I perceive them to be coming from the southeast, it seemed that the aluminum wall diminished the vibe. Feeling the vibe now in the bus. Going to check Airstream again.

  When I returned, I wrote: I'm almost convinced that there is some kind of microwave beam being directed at me from the southeast. Today is my 20th anniversary of moving to the Little Farm. 12:37 pm – Barely feeling vibes now. Almost not there. 12:40 pm WTF! Just felt vibes way stronger. 12:44pm – full on, right near the wood stove. 1:05 pm – Vibes still on.

  Then I wrote: 4:25 pm – About a minute or two ago, a big military-looking aircraft flew over the farm, coming from the east and then turning toward the southwest, just as they were directly over the farm. It was a big, gray aircraft. No markings. The center portion was fat, like a cargo plane, but different. I waved at them as they flew over.

  Every day, I continued to make these kinds of journal entries. October 4th, 7:17 am – Vibe was going strong all night and continues right now. Feels like I am getting zapped, big time. I tried to go to bed last night and vibes were going and I got up and started putting aluminum foil on the walls. Vibes only seemed to increase, like someone was turning up the dial. 8:55 am – Vibe steady and strong and completely obvious. I am taking down the vertical strips I put up last night and putting them horizontally across front wall. Not sure if I will cover front windshield. Could be dark, but better than getting zapped. 12:28 pm – Constant vibration, buzzing in my skull and driving me crazy. Been putting up foil all morning. Just went out to the firewood area and can feel the vibe buzzing my head so much.

  I went over to the Grove and called Melissa on the phone. I told her that the vibes were severely stressing me out. She suggested that we both go somewhere to get away from it. I agreed. I was anxious to get away. Melissa drove down from Iowa and we slept in the bus.

  The next morning I wrote: October 5th, Monday. I wasn't feeling the vibe last night, but upon waking, I did. It has been going all morning. I asked Melissa several times if she feels it, and she says no.

  I started packing Melissa's car for our trip and was feeling frantic about wanting to get away. We had decided to go camping in the Ozark Mountains of Northern Arkansas. When we finally left, I felt a bit of relief with the vibes gradually fading away. As we drove south, I watched the odometer to see how far it was to the wind farm – about sixteen miles. Although we were passing through the middle of the wind farm, the bad vibrations were gone.

  Melissa did most of the driving, and when we got to Fayetteville, we contacted Anna and Joel. They had been staying in a house with their friends, on a beautiful piece of land that was south of town. They fed us some delicious food, and after eating, we all sat on the grass and we talked.

  I told them of my ongoing disturbances with the bad vibrations at the farm, and how I felt like I was being targeted and assaulted by some kind of electronic weapon. I gave them many of the details I have written in this chapter. Joel was sitting to my right, and after some thought, he turned to me and said, “Yeah… I think it's possible they might be fucking with you.” I appreciated Joel's response. Most people wouldn't believe any of it. Anna gave Melissa a few recommendations for places to go camping, then we all said goodbye.

  Melissa drove east as we went to camp in the Steele Creek area. After two nights, Melissa and I returned to that same house, south of Fayetteville. Though all of the residents were gone for the night, Anna had told Melissa that we were welcome to stay there. We slept on the porch, and in the morning we drove to Eureka Springs.

   Anna and Joel were playing music at the Stone House Winery. I sat on the patio with Melissa, drinking beer and laughing at all of the funny things Joel and Anna were saying between songs. They were hilarious, and the music was great. We slept at the home of Anna's god parents, and in the morning we began the long drive back to Northern Missouri. I was feeling much better. We returned to the farm on the evening of Sunday, October 11th. Everything felt calm. No vibrations were apparent, and I didn't want to think about it. We drank a few beers and we smoked some ganja. We talked and laughed while I cooked up some good food. I slept well and felt content.

  The next morning, Melissa and I had a stupid argument over nothing. Feeling angry and annoyed, I wanted her to leave, so she did. As I was shaking off my anger about Melissa, I wondered if the bad vibes would return. Just as they had for the past eight years, the bad vibes returned within a few days after I came home to the farm.

  On Sunday, October 18th, I was working on the water house. The vibe had been going all morning, and it was feeling more intense than usual. I tried to ignore it but it was just too much. As I held a long two-by-four, preparing to carry it up the ladder, I was feeling way too much of the weird energy beam going through me. Stopping in my tracks, I threw the board to the ground and said, “I can't do this anymore.” In that moment, there was a realization that I could no longer live on the farm. I had to get away from the vibe, and I began to think of the steps I would have to take before I could leave. I was about to start packing things into the van, then I remembered all of the aloe vera plants that needed to be brought over to Herb's house for the winter. While loading aloe plants into the van, I was coming to grips with the realization that my time at the farm could be at an end. I thought of all the years I had toiled and struggled to make this homestead happen, and now I might have to abandon it all. Suddenly I was crying. A deep sorrow washed over me as I gathered all of the potted aloe plants.

  With tears running down my face, I drove to the Grove. As I rolled up near Herb's house, I saw that Chaz and Al were there. Chaz was helping Herb work on one of his tractors. I pulled over on the left side of the road and got out of the van. Opening the back hatch, I asked, “Who wants an aloe vera plant?” Al walked over and said, “I'd be interested.”

  “Go ahead and pick one or a few of them.”

  “How about the two big ones?”

  “Well...  How about one of the big ones, and one or two of the smaller ones?”

  He took two plants and I closed the hatch.

  When Herb walked over to me, I began telling him that I had to get away from the farm. I was crying again as I tried to speak:

  “I've been getting zapped over there for way too many years, and I can't take it anymore. I have to leave. I can't live around here anymore. All these years, I've been working so hard to make things happen, and I just feel like I have to walk away from it all. I mean… What's the point? What is the point of trying to continue with anything over there if I'm just gonna keep getting zapped all the time?”

  Chaz and Al were only a few yards away, and I'm sure they were hearing everything I was saying. I didn't care what they heard or what they thought. I was telling Herb that I had to leave.

  Herb said, “Come here and listen to this over here,” as he coaxed me over to one of the power line poles across the road. Herb started telling me how it was making so much noise in the morning. But as we stood there, it was totally silent. Herb continued, “Boy, it was sure making a loud hum this morning.” Tears were still dripping down my face as Herb again tried to convince me that the power lines had something to do with my misery. Standing underneath the silent power line, I was still feeling the bad vibrations going through me. I didn't mention that to Herb. It was pointless. I walked back across the road, up the porch steps and into the house.

   I picked up the phone to call my sister. After dialing Anne's number, I got her answering machine, so I left a message. Then I called my other sister. Liz answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Liz.”

  “Joe, what's wrong?”

  “Well, my goodness. How did you know?”

  “You sound really sad, I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I am really sad. I'm sad that I can't live at the Little Farm anymore.”

  I broke down into tears again.

  Liz asked, “Why? Did someone tell you that you couldn't live there anymore?”

  “No, it's nothing like that. Herb likes me, and I am totally welcome to stay on the farm. It's just that…” I tried to formulate my words before I unloaded the entire story onto Liz.

  “For the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, there was a calm and a stillness that disappeared in 2007. It all started one night in October of 2007. This weird vibration came along and woke me up in the middle of the night. I could feel it going all through my body. It's like a really low, humming sort of vibration, and it just goes through the walls, and it goes through everything. It has stayed around for all of these years and it's been irritating me ever since.”

  “Did you ever find out what it was… or what it is?”

  “For a lot of years I wondered if it was related to the wind farms, but I eventually concluded that it wasn't. I also thought it might have something to do with the microwave cell phone towers to the east. I've often thought that it was some kind of electronic weapon that was being pointed at me. That's what it has always felt like. It's like a beam of weird energy being directed at me. It's almost like a mild, electric shock, but different... like there are billions of electrons vibrating through me.”

  I told her of the years I had been trying to raise awareness about corruption in the government.

  “I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The government did nine-eleven.' I spent years posting about it on Myspace and on Facebook. I protested at the Pentagon. There were often strange people who took pictures of me. Basically, I made myself into a target. Most of those things were happening in 2006 and 2007, in the years leading up to my first encounters with the bad vibrations. The government is messing with me. They have been messing with me for a long time. Whatever has been happening, it causes me frequent headaches. I can feel it messing with my intestines and giving me the runny shits.”

  I continued to cry and talk as Liz patiently listened.

  “All those years I was posting controversial information on social media and carrying signs... I don't know if I made any difference, as far as raising awareness. I don't know if I made any positive changes in the world, but I do know that I drew attention to myself, and I became a target. But there are a lot of people out there who are raising awareness and exposing government corruption. Are they all being targeted? Are they all getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon? I wonder about the Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth, and people like Richard Gage or David Ray Griffin. Are they getting zapped?”

  I went on about the evils of government, of continuous war for profit and control. I spoke of all of the false flag events that continue to happen around the world, and how it is our tax dollars paying for it all. “These people in shady positions in government, doing all of these horrible things – they're evil!” Liz agreed with me, that there is much evil hiding behind the walls of government. A loud “click” sound came over the phone. I asked, “Did you hear that? That click sound?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I always assumed that they read our emails and listened to phone conversations, long before Edward Snowden told us that they do those things. But with today's technology, I don't know why we would even hear any 'click' sound for someone to be listening to, or recording our conversation. And if they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything! I'm not breaking any laws or hurting anyone. I'm just trying to grow some fruit trees and build a homestead. I wish they would leave me alone!”

  As I finished saying that, I was crying again. Liz offered me her sympathy.

  “It sounds horrible, Joe, what you are going through. I'm going to pray for you, and I'll have all of my kids pray for you, too.”

  “Thanks, Liz. You know I'm not religious, but I do believe in the power of prayer. And you have so many kids, too. So that's some powerful energy.”

  I felt much better after talking with Liz. It was good to tell someone my story, and to not feel like I was being judged or ridiculed. Liz listened and she gave me some feedback without doubting my story or my experience of it all.

  When I returned to the farm, everything felt calm as I slept through the night. When I woke up, it was still calm. Several days passed with no bad vibrations happening. I continued to make an occasional journal entry, though there was nothing to report. Everything stayed calm. I was relieved. I felt that my conversation with Liz had an impact. Perhaps the prayers of Liz and her children had something to do with the relief I was feeling. Beyond that, I felt that who ever was listening to our phone conversation, they must have really heard me, especially the part when I said, “If they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything!” I thought that perhaps someone who had the authority to make a certain decision may have given an order to stop attacking me with whatever kind of electronic weapon I was being assaulted with.

  The days of calm turned into weeks of calm, and I was beginning to feel that my troubles with the bad vibrations were over. Every once in a while, I felt a slight vibration of something, though it was nothing like the ongoing assault I had become so familiar with. After the many years of paying close attention, “listening” for the vibrations, I had become much more aware of my own inner vibrations. I could feel my heartbeat and my pulse with much more clarity than I ever had in the past. There were times when I thought I was feeling a bit of the vibe, but upon further “listening,” I'd realize that I was actually feeling my own pulse and the gush of blood that flows with every beat of my heart. I quickly deciphered the difference, as there was really no comparison. The vibe that had been tormenting me for all of those years was much more pronounced, very strong, and extremely disturbing. There was no denying the existence of the vibe when it was full-on.

  Whatever vibrations I encountered during this time of calm, they were minuscule in comparison to the previous conditions. Sometimes it was merely the vibration of a truck driving by, half a mile away. If you pay attention to these things, you will notice the subtle vibrations that often occur all around you.

  Things continued to remain mostly calm around my place, but then one morning, I woke up to the vibes again. I began to feel a sense of panic, feeling that this was going to continue ruining my life. I wrote in my journal: Sunday, November 15th – THE VIBE IS BACK. I felt it hours ago while sleeping. Woke up to it. Very subtle, mild. But most definitely going.

  Down in the Grove, I phoned Liz, telling her, “For about four weeks, I didn't feel much of anything until today. When I woke up this morning, the vibe was happening again.”

  Liz told me that she had forgotten to keep praying for me. Again, she said that she and her kids would pray for me. I hung up the phone and wondered if I could feel the vibe. I wasn't feeling it in Herb's house. When I went back over to the farm, it was calm again. No vibrations. I breathed a sigh of relief, telling myself to focus on the calm and serenity. I didn't want to give any thought to the bad vibes. Over the next several days, I enjoyed the relaxing feeling of the calm stillness.

  I thought about the creepy government people who read our emails, and I decided to send them a message, so I sent an email to myself:

 To whom it may concern:

 Dear Feds, please stop zapping me with whatever you have been zapping me with. I am not doing anything wrong, I am not breaking any laws,* and I am no longer trying to inform people about government corruption. All I want to do is grow my fruit trees and build my farm structures. Please stop with the electronic harassment and assault. It has been eight long years that I have endured the wrath of your secret electronic weapons, and I am wishing, hoping, and praying that you will end all of that and leave me alone. Don't you have bigger fish to fry? I am just a simple farmer and occasional musician. Please let me be.

Thank you for reading my emails.

    (*Actually though, I do break some laws. I smoke cannabis and occasionally ingest hallucinogenic mushrooms. I have also experimented with other controlled substances. At times I have been guilty of jaywalking or running past stop signs on my bicycle. That's it. That is the full extent of my illegal activity.)

  For the past few years, I had been losing vision in my right eye. In January of 2015, I looked closely in the mirror, with a flashlight shining into my eye. What I saw frightened me. It was cloudy and milky-looking in my pupil. I looked at pictures of cataracts on the internet, and they looked like what I had seen in my eye. At Stan and Cathy's house, I mentioned that I might have cataracts. Cathy asked, “Aren't you too young to be getting cataracts?” I replied, “I'm too young for a lot of things.”

  Soon after that, I scheduled an appointment with an eye doctor in Lawrence. After running some tests and looking into my eyes, the doctor told me what I had already suspected; I had cataracts. He told me that cataract surgery was the only solution, and he referred me to a group of eye surgeons. I asked him about the procedure. He explained that they remove the natural lens and replace it with an artificial lens. I did not like the sound of that. Not wanting to remove my natural lens, I looked for alternatives on the internet.

  During Thanksgiving, I visited with Melissa's family up near Des Moines. I told Melissa about the cataracts, saying, “I don't want to do the surgery, but eventually I won't be able to read or write. It compels me to get more serious about finishing my book.”

  Melissa was sympathetic about my cataracts. After returning home, I received an email from her, saying, “I've read that a leaking microwave oven can cause cataracts. There are detectors you can get to check for microwaves, but I would check into their sensitivity levels before buying one.” I pondered over those words. I never go anywhere near microwave ovens. I don't like them. I avoid cell phones because of the microwaves. Melissa knew about my problems with the bad vibrations, and I had mentioned the idea of microwave weapons to her. Now she was sharing this information about microwave radiation causing cataracts. As I read her email, I said, “Well, great. If it was a microwave weapon being directed at me, it may have caused me to develop cataracts at an early age. Just wonderful.”   And I had thought of getting one of those detectors. It would certainly add a bit more credibility to my story if I could have given actual numeric readings from such a device. By this time, however, the bad vibrations had mostly ended, and I felt that buying one of those detectors would almost be like inviting the bad vibes to come back.   The farm had returned to the calm and serenity that I missed. I was feeling better again. I rolled in the grass, breathing deep and feeling thankful that everything had been calm for this much time, which was only a couple of weeks at that point. And yet I could still feel the aftermath of all the weird vibrations that had been imposed upon me. I couldn't quite explain it, but I felt much different than I had before. Thinking out loud, I said, “Who knows what they've done to me?” I steered my mind away from bad thoughts like cancer and all the other horrible things that could go wrong. I understand how powerful thoughts can be, especially when it comes to good or bad health.

  Over the years, increasingly I noticed that I was often feeling irritable. The slightest little annoyances could set me off into an angry rage. I was already a bit of a moody person at times, though I felt that all those years of getting zapped had changed me. I had less patience with people, and I knew that I couldn't really talk about my dilemma with others. They would laugh and ridicule me. They would call me crazy, delusional, and paranoid. That is what most people will do. They will judge you as being crazy or delusional, without considering the possibility that what you are telling them is the truth.

  For many months I had stayed away from Facebook, and I rarely logged into my email account. When the bad vibes had mostly stopped after October the 18th, I was still reluctant to log into those accounts, concerned that the bad vibes would return. As the weeks passed, though, I began to log in again. I felt like a frightened little animal, crawling out of a hole, wondering if it was safe to go out into the light. With the exception of November 15th, everything had remained relatively calm. I was looking at my news feed on Facebook, though I refused to post anything or participate in any online discussions. Then on the evening of Thursday, December third, I shared a video about Donald Trump. It was the first time I had posted anything in months. It wasn't even controversial, it was just funny. I wondered if posting something might cause “them” to start zapping me again. The next morning, I woke up to the vibe. It was going steady and strong. I decided to leave the farm, so I packed the van for a long drive to Arkansas.

  Joel and Anna were playing music in Eureka Springs, and I drove all the way down there to see them. I helped them load their equipment into and out of the Stone House Winery, and at the end of the evening, they offered me a place to sleep. On Saturday night they were playing music in Fayetteville. Again I helped them move their equipment, before and after the show. I slept in my van that night, and on Sunday morning I drove toward Lawrence.

  By Tuesday I was back on the Farm. Everything felt calm. I avoided logging onto a computer until Thursday evening. I was planning to leave again on Friday, December 11th. The farm remained calm through the night and into the morning. When daylight arrived, I packed my things into the van and drove to Lawrence. Then I made my way through Wichita and to Hutchinson, where I continued to write about all of this.

  It is bad enough having endured the torment of getting zapped for all of those years. Adding sorrow to all of this is the awareness that my closest friends don't believe me. I have told my story to people like Luke, Ian, and Anastasia. They all get a blank look on their faces, like they are having some cognitive dissonance, wondering if I am crazy. It is sad and annoying. Melissa is one of the few people who hasn't doubted my story – Melissa, Frank, and perhaps Joel and Jen. As I have persisted with my story though, it seems that a few people are beginning to believe me.

  After all the years I endured the bad vibrations at the farm, I had examined many different thoughts and ideas about what the disturbance might be. I was looking for the most logical answer to the question: What is the cause of the bad vibrations? The notion of electronic weapons being the cause makes more sense to me than anything else which has been suggested by anyone. It makes more sense than wind farms being the cause, or the power lines, or the sand plant. None of those things could track me around and keep zapping me all the way to Denver, Missouri. But modern electronic weapons certainly could. This is logic, plain and simple. From everything I have experienced, it is my absolute belief that some kind of electronic weapon was being aimed at me for all of those years. It had the ability to track and follow me around in Northwest Missouri. On the radio, Annie Jacobsen had spoken of these weapons. When reading her book, “Phenomena,” I found very little information on the subject. She only briefly mentioned electronic weapons. Perhaps I simply haven't found the right book. Regardless, it has been admitted by the FBI that they were using similar kinds of weapons against someone, as far back as the 1950's.   So why do people have that knee-jerk reaction of ridicule and doubt when I mention any of this to them? I suppose it is because they were conditioned to think that way. Some folks have proposed the idea that perhaps I was experiencing the effects of tinnitus, a condition in which a person hears a ringing sound when no external sound is present. For each person who has suggested this to me, my response has been the same: “It's interesting how that tinnitus disappears every time I drive far enough away from the farm.” Sometimes I wish that those people could get zapped for just ten or twenty minutes. Ordinarily I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, yet if people could experience just a few moments of what I had to endure for eight long years, then maybe they would understand.

  As these weeks roll past, I am grateful for the relative calm I have been feeling. Ever since that day when I cried while talking to my sister on the phone, the bad vibrations have almost completely disappeared. I went back to working on some of my projects, thinking that maybe I can continue living on the farm. An enormous sense of relief has been happening for me. At the same time, there is an ongoing feeling of apprehension that it could all happen again.

  Is it over?

  Will the bad vibrations stay away and let me live in peace?

  Will the calm and serenity remain?

  I hope so.

  That would have been a fine way to end this chapter. I wish it was the end. Eighteen months went by without any notice of the weird vibrations. I thought it was over. But in late May of 2017, the bad vibes returned. It was mild at first, almost imperceptible, then it became stronger. After more than a year of calm, I had begun to think it would be okay to go ahead and speak my mind by posting certain things on Facebook. There were some postings about government corruption and war crimes. Not long after sharing those posts, I started feeling the bad vibes again.

  On the night of May 30th, I was lying in bed when the vibrations became more intense. I got up and began to gather my things, unsure of where to go, only knowing that I had to leave. After driving over to Herb's house, I sat in the car and opened up my computer. I was thinking of driving all the way up to Frank's place, then I thought of the upstairs room above Herb and Larry. The stairs are on the outside, so I was able to go up there without bothering anyone. As I settled in the bed to sleep, I was not feeling the vibes. So I slept.

  In the morning I went downstairs to chat with Larry and Herb. I made no mention of the recent vibrations on the farm. Then Frank showed up at the door. As he stepped inside, he said, “Hi Joe. How's it been going?”

  “Not so great. I'll tell you later.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  “They're zapping me again.”

  “Oh, no. That sucks.”

  “Frank, you're the only person who understands what I'm talking about.”

  Herb went outside as Frank and I discussed the bad vibrations. Larry sat up on the bed, listening to us. Frank recalled his experience of getting zapped for two years. The vibrations stopped harassing him around the same time when they first started bothering me. Frank and I had come up with a theory that initially, the perpetrators thought Frank was me. We both have dark brown eyes, brown hair and a brown beard. We have a similar shape to our eyebrows. People often asked if we were brothers. So it seemed plausible that our identity had gotten mixed up by those who were assaulting us. I told Frank that I had no choice but to leave the farm and go somewhere.

  “First, I need to get that gutter put on the water house, to channel the rain away from the building. Then I have to get out of here. My sister has been inviting me to visit, so maybe I'll go there.” Holding up my laptop computer, I said, “I can keep working on the book, just about anywhere.”

  Back on the farm, I spent most of the day figuring out how I would put up the gutter. The bad vibrations bothered me for a while. By late afternoon, though, they had stopped. After many hours of calm, I thought I would be able to sleep in my own bed again. But as I laid down to sleep that night, the vibes came back, steady and strong. So I gathered a few things and went over to Herb's. In the upstairs, I still felt a vibration, though not as pronounced as it was at the farm. Sleeping through the vibrations, I woke up at sunrise.

  Downstairs, I drank coffee with Herb while I read my emails. Then I drove the dusty road back to the farm. As I started gathering some tools and gutter pieces, no vibrations were apparent. Again, I felt relieved to be working in the calm surroundings. It was Thursday, the first of June. Standing on the porch with the cat, I watched two hummingbirds hovering around their nectar feeder. Suddenly they both flew toward me, one of them flying just a couple of inches past the right side of my face as the other one flew by me at waist level. Laughing with amusement, I said, “That was cool! I love living here when I'm not getting zapped.”

  The disturbing vibrations returned in the afternoon. I did my best to ignore them and to focus on getting the gutter installed. By evening, the vibes had diminished. Several hours later, though, just as I was lying down to sleep, the vibes returned. It seemed like the culprits were intentionally waiting until I went to bed, then as soon as I laid down, they started zapping me. It was like they were experimenting with their sadistic torture device while observing my reactions. For the third night in a row, I got dressed and drove along the gravel road to sleep in the upstairs room of Herb's house. In the morning, I woke up and drove back to the farm.

  After the gutter was attached, I felt better about walking away from the water-house project and going somewhere to get away from the bad vibrations. A few trips away from the farm gave me some peace for a while. I visited my sister's home near Lincoln, then drove to Lawrence. At the end of June, I was swept away in a flood. Interesting as that was, it does not relate to this story.

  When the vibrations returned and increased with intensity, I found myself making journal entries again: July 8th, 2017. The vibe is becoming more pronounced today. For the last month, I haven't felt it much, and most times it is barely noticeable. But today I am feeling a humming in my head that is some of the strongest vibration I've felt since November of 2015.

Sunday, 9th of July – I woke up to the vibe this morning, and it feels more steady and strong than it did yesterday. The realization is upon me again, that I cannot stay here, and I have to begin packing my car for a trip to somewhere.

  Things were much easier when I still had the minivan. There was room to move around and space to sleep. Then the transmission was destroyed. With the little Honda I am now driving, there is no room for anything. I do not know where I will sleep.

  As I write these words, the vibrations are humming in my head and chest. I wonder what may have caused the return of this miserable condition, and the only thing that comes to mind is a recent phone conversation I had with Sherri. It was last Tuesday evening, on the Fourth of July. I had mentioned to her that I thought NPR was just as full of lies as the other mainstream media networks:

  “They've all been lying about nine-eleven for all these years, and that's the biggest lie I have heard being perpetuated in my entire life. If they're going to continue with a lie as huge as nine-eleven, what else are they lying about?”

  So again, I was running my mouth about the government's involvement in a false flag operation, and again, the bad vibes returned.

  With a few things packed into the Honda, I drove all the way up to Frank's house. When Frank came out to meet me in the yard, I said, “They're zapping me again. I can't stand to stay on the farm, so I need to crash here tonight.” We went inside and talked of the experiences we've both had with the vibrations. Everything felt calm at Frank's. There was no feeling of any weird vibes at all. I thought back to what I had been feeling just a few hours earlier at the farm, and it seemed surreal. The calm feeling remained at Frank's house as I fell asleep on the futon.

  In the morning I wanted to get back to the farm and prepare for a more extended trip. By afternoon I was rolling toward the homestead. As soon as I rolled into the north driveway of the Little Farm, the vibration was completely obvious. I made a list of things I would need and began to gather them. Then I drove down to the Grove to visit with Herb and Larry for a couple of hours. Returning to the farm, I was hoping the vibration might have diminished, and that maybe I could sleep in my own bed again. Yet when I returned, the vibration seemed to be coming on stronger, and I knew I couldn't stay there. So I gathered my things for another drive up to Frank's house, feeling frantic about trying to get away, with my head and chest vibrating the entire time. After a second night at Frank's house, I drove back to the farm, preparing for another trip southward.

  Although I've grown tired of writing this chapter, it is difficult to find a stopping point, as I am dealing with an ongoing chronicle of these disturbances. I got away to Lawrence. From there, I drove to the southwest corner of Missouri, then north and west to Wichita for two nights, then to Hutchinson. For three nights, I stayed at Ian and Anastasia's house, then drove back up to Lawrence. By Monday, July 24th, I had returned to Northwest Missouri.

  Everything was calm as I refrained from logging in on a computer. The next day, I logged into email and Facebook while I was at the Library in town. Also, I requested two books by Annie Jacobsen, through the inter-library loan. At the farm I had mild perceptions of some vibrations, but wasn't sure. It was vague. On Thursday, I logged in from Herb's house on an older computer. That night, the vibes came on strong, just as I was settling into bed. I got up, grabbed a few things and drove to Herb's. Stepping up the outside stairs, I went into the room. The vibes were still apparent up there and I couldn't sleep, so I went down to go into the downstairs part, but it was locked. Not wanting to wake Herb, I drove back to the farm. When I got back inside the bus, the vibes were still going steady. I wanted to leave but I was exhausted. It was around two o'clock in the morning when I succumbed, falling asleep with the vibes humming through my body. At daybreak I woke up to the vibes going through me like they hadn't stopped all night.

  Later that day, I drove back up to Frank's. We talked for a while, then I called Herb's house and left him a message. When Herb called back, he told me that he had experienced some strange vibrations during the previous night. That would have been Thursday night and Friday morning, the 27th and 28th of July. Herb said he woke up to a vibration and wondered why he was “hearing” something when he knew that the refrigerator wasn't running at the time, the air conditioner was not on, and the ceiling fan was off. In a way, I was glad that Herb was recognizing a vibration. I certainly don't want him getting zapped, but I've wanted him to understand that what I have been experiencing is real. I want everyone to understand that.

  Again I escaped from the farm, driving to Lawrence and visiting with friends.

  August 14th, 2017 – When I got back to the farm last night, everything felt much different than it ever has in the last twenty-one years. I did not feel good about being home. After all the years of being out here alone, the years of getting zapped, the ongoing apprehension about possibly getting zapped again, and events of the last eleven months which have left me severely angry at certain people, it is feeling more to me like this is no longer my home. It does not feel like my home anymore. The water house stands there, looking at me as if it is wondering when I will break out the tools and continue building on it. I look back to the water house and say, “My heart is not in it. I just don't care anymore.” All of that time and energy, the endless days of toiling away, it might have all been a complete waste of my time, energy, and money. My greatest and most ambitious projects in recent years have been the water house and the book. But the ongoing events of recent months continue to push me away from this place, and I keep returning to the conclusion that I need to buy a van and be prepared to live on the road. The only thing I have left is this book.

  Late August in Lawrence, I stayed at Stella's old house on Montana street during the time when she was moving to a rental property and putting her house up for sale. Many times I had noticed a weird vibration that seemed to be running through the east side of the house. This was the first time I felt any kind of strange electrical vibes in Lawrence. It should be noted that I had logged onto my computer, using Stella’s wifi connection. Perhaps this made my presence known, putting me on someone’s radar. After feeling bad vibes in the southeast bedroom, I moved my sleeping pad into the living room where no vibes were apparent.

  When I told Stella about the bad vibes in that southeast corner room, she said that her daughter did not like that room and would never go in there. Stella reacted strongly to what I was telling her, as it appeared to add some credence to whatever her daughter had been experiencing. Stella seemed to be pondering about a ghostly presence, while I was thinking of something electronic and man-made. I began to notice that the vibration was also apparent in the bathroom, the kitchen, and the laundry room. It was extending lengthwise, north and south, through the entire east side of the house.

  In late August, I bought another old Dodge van. Deciding to stay in Lawrence during the fall and winter, I made arrangements to move in with two friends, though I did not want to be on the lease. By early September, I had settled into a house near the campus of The University of Kansas. One of my early mistakes was logging in on my computer through the wifi in that house. Eventually, I learned about and purchased a VPN (Virtually Private Network) service which is meant to provide some privacy for my online activity, re-routing my connection through another server somewhere. But my attempts at hiding my location had failed, as I had already logged on without the protection of a VPN. I’ve had doubts about whether or not the VPN actually hides my location from the feds, anyway.

  Several times when I went to go walking or riding my bike, I noticed someone in an idle car, stopped in the middle of the street, just staring at me as I made my way from the house. Each time, it was a different person in a different car, not parking anywhere, just sitting idle in the street, staring at me. Every time it happened, I walked or biked directly toward the person, then he or she would drive away as I got closer. It seemed really strange. Not long after those encounters, a weird vibration started happening in my temporary new home. At first, I noticed it in the bathroom when I was standing in front of the toilet to pee. Then I was feeling it in the kitchen as well.

  Luke knew all about my struggle with the bad vibes, and when he came over to see the house, he asked, “Do you ever feel those vibrations when you're in Lawrence?”

  “In the last couple of months, I have. I was getting weird vibes at Stella's old house, all along the east side but not on the west side. And now in this house, I keep getting it in the bathroom and in the kitchen.”

  After Luke left, I wondered why I had not asked him to stand in the bathroom and tell me if he felt the vibrations. My two housemates knew nothing about my years of struggle with the bad vibes on the farm. Several times I had mentioned the weird vibrations in the bathroom and kitchen. When they gave no response, I said nothing more about it.

  During September and October, I became more convinced that I was being electronically harassed at the Lawrence home. Along with the vibrations going through my skull, there was often a feeling of tightness, almost a numbness in my throat area, like the glands were being assaulted. With the vibes penetrating through my chest, my heart often started racing at a much faster pace than usual. It would be normal if I was engaged in heavy exercise at the time, but it often happens when I am fully relaxed, or even when I'm lying down to sleep. There is no reason why my heart should start racing so fast when I am not moving at all. Actually though, there is a reason: electronic assault. One day I was describing the rapid heartbeat to Luke, then he asked, “Is there anything that would be causing you anxiety, to the point where your heart would speed up?”

  “Yes. Getting zapped by electronic weapons causes me anxiety. It causes anxiety when it's happening. And when it's not happening, the thought of it returning makes me apprehensive, too.”

  Once or twice a month, I made the drive up to the Little Farm. It was good to see Herb, Larry, and the dogs in the Grove. The cats, too, especially my cat on the farm. For several days I would hang out, in and around my home. Everything was calm. It seemed apparent that whoever had been assaulting me, they had found my location in Lawrence but were no longer aiming their devices at my home on the farm. When my life returns to that level of calm and serenity, it is the greatest relief I know.

  Back in Lawrence, however, the vibes were becoming more commonplace. At first, it was the steady vibe constantly running through the bathroom, and eventually through the kitchen, as though the perpetrators were uncertain about which room I was occupying. I imagined them projecting a steady vibration, perhaps while figuring out the lay of the house. That's how I thought of it, anyway.  

  As November came along, I started feeling the disturbance in the living room at times. I would abruptly get up and move to different parts of the house, trying to decipher whether the vibes were happening in those areas. One evening, Cory asked, “What are you doing, Joe?”

  “It's difficult to explain. You wouldn't understand.”

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I understand?”

  “Because nobody understands. It's something I've been dealing with for years. Most people don't believe me, anyway. I don't like to talk about it.”

  Cory's curiosity was growing, along with his confusion about my reluctance to speak about my situation. Then I told him, “I've written a fairly detailed chapter about it. It's the longest chapter in my book, and you can read all about it when I get the book published. Or if you want to read it on a computer sometime, maybe I can put it on a flash drive for you. But generally, I don't talk about it with people anymore.”

  “You could email it to me.”

  “No. I definitely don't want to do that. Other people could see it. The wrong people. Shit, they've probably already crept into my computer and got everything in there... any of those times I went online before I had a VPN, they could have done that. But you never know. Maybe they haven't seen that chapter. I'll put it on a flash drive sometime, and we can put it on your computer.” “Okay… well, I'd be interested to read it.”

  For about three months, I had not been feeling anything bothersome in my little room at the top of the stairs. I was able to sleep without much concern. By the end of November though, I was getting more disturbing vibes in my room. One morning, I frantically began to load the van with the things I would need to get away to somewhere, to anywhere. Before I left for another spontaneous escape, I put the majority of this chapter on a flash drive and told Cory, “I have to leave, but I want to put this on your computer before I go.” So we sat down with his laptop computer and made that happen.

  In December I began to document my frequent encounters with the house vibrations by making notes on the December page of a calendar, taped up on the inside of my room door: December 7, 8, 9 – zapped. Familiar pressure in my skull, tightness in my throat glands. Light but steady vibe going on. 10 – calm. Left for farm. Calm at farm. December 13 – returned and zapping started again. 14 – Zapped, heavily. Stopped around 10-11pm. December 15 – Left for Ozarks. December 17 – Returned to Lawrence – calm. After the word, “calm,” there is an arrow pointing through the remaining days of that week, indicating that the calmness had remained.

December 25 – vibes, 26 – vibes, 27 – calm again. At the top of the December calendar page, I began to write down the encounters occurring in January: Vibes on Jan. 5th, 6pm – Vibes.

  Then everything remained calm for twelve days until I got caught up in argument on Facebook. It was a discussion about the idea of mandatory vaccines. In the comments, I went on a rant about the toxic poisons in vaccines, and that mandating forced injections on people was another extension of fascism. Within hours of posting those comments, I was clearly feeling the bad vibrations again. I imagined there was a correlation between my speaking out, then getting assaulted.

  During the many years I was getting zapped on the farm, I often went searching online for some clues to the mystery I was experiencing. Yet for so many of those years, I never thought to do a simple search regarding electronic weapons. I was researching wind-farm vibrations, cell phone tower microwaves, “stray electricity,” and other things. When I finally searched for answers by typing “electronic weapons” in the search box, I was suddenly exposed to hundreds of links dealing with electronic assault, harassment, and torture. It was then I began to realize that there were many other people dealing with the same problems I had been going through. Some of these folks were labeled as “targeted individuals.” People's descriptions of experiences were similar to mine. For example, one thing that seems common among targeted individuals is the claim that the first episodes of electronic assault were very intense, as if to let the victim know with certainty that these attacks were coming from an outside source. Then the level of intensity is brought down to a small fraction of the original attack, though it keeps going for days, weeks, months, or years.

  This was precisely how it happened to me at the farm. That first night I was assaulted in October of 2007, it was extremely intense, then it seemed to gradually diminish in the days that followed, yet it was still going. After that first night of attacks on the farm, I did not think to write down the exact date. I only know that it was middle to late October, in 2007. Had I known what an ongoing ordeal was about to unfold for the next eight or ten years, I most certainly would have written down the date of that first experience.

  Some victims of electronic assault claim to have sensations of feeling like their skin is being burned. This is something I have not experienced. Not once, did I ever feel like my skin was burning. For me, it has been the intense vibrations going through my skull and chest. Many times, my heart was pounding so hard and fast, I felt that someone was trying to cause me to have a heart attack. When the glands in my jaw go numb, I feel like my lymphatic system is being assaulted.

  I understand that much of this chapter is speculation, as I have no way of proving any of this. I can only give my detailed and honest description of what I have experienced. It makes sense to me though, that the perpetrators have developed a method of attacking people in a way that the victims cannot prove. Additionally, it seems that the underlying goal is to discredit the victims by making them appear as delusional and insane. This is what the FBI did to Pedro Campos in the 1950s. While I still consider purchasing a microwave detector or radio frequency indicator, some of those devices cost several hundreds of dollars. With my limited budget, I am not anxious to spend that money.

  In September of 2017, I was introduced to a Missouri chapter of the Native American Church, down in the Ozarks of Southern Missouri. The location was beautiful and I liked most of the people I met. So I returned in October. (For now, I am bypassing the details of what those ceremonies were about, as they could become another entire chapter, separate from this one, and I am trying to stay on point here.) When I was on my way down there for the November ceremony, I stopped at Mama Jean's grocery store on Sunshine Street in Springfield. Using my computer with their wifi, my VPN service would not turn on without me logging in to the service's website. I had forgotten my password, though I knew I had emailed a clue about it to myself. But the only way to retrieve that password was to log in without the protection of the VPN. So I went ahead and logged in, opened up my email and got the password. Also, I replied to an email from my sister, telling her I was heading toward the Ozarks.

  Driving another twenty miles or so to my destination, I put some Rush tunes in the CD player and blasted the music for the last stretch of my trip. When I pulled onto the grassy parking area and turned off the van, I was immediately sensing weird vibrations. In an instant, I felt surprised and upset.

  “Are you kidding me?! Are they really fuckin’ with me... all the way down here in the Ozarks?!” Looking up, I noticed a power line connected to a transformer on the utility pole. I said, “Maybe that's what I'm feeling.” So I took a walk, perhaps a quarter of a mile or more to the south, yet the vibrations continued to follow me. Closing my eyes, I wondered what direction the assault was coming from. Suddenly my hands reached up to a certain location in the northern sky. I perceived the bad vibrations to be coming from that direction. In my mind, I was thinking of a satellite with electronic weapons. I went back to the van, opened the computer and attempted to write about the experience. The vibes increased, and I knew I was being assaulted. It was too obvious, as my skull and my chest were pulsating with vibrations.

  I frantically drove out of there, taking the winding mountain road all the way back to the nearest town, fourteen miles to the west. When I pulled over near the town square and turned off the engine, everything felt calm again. For several hours I walked around the little downtown area, thinking maybe I would sleep there in town, where the van was parked. By midnight though, I decided to drive all the way back to the Native American Church location. When I shut off the engine, everything felt calm. After sleeping in the van, I woke to join in the morning ceremony. For the rest of that Saturday and into the night, I could only feel the calm normality of nature all around me.

  On the 15th of December, I drove to the Ozarks again. My friend Michael rode down there with me. I slept in the van and woke to join in the morning ceremony. During the usual introductions, a woman named Audrey spoke of some papers she had written as part of a book she was working on. She was offering free copies to anyone interested, and asking for donations. She spoke of information she was trying to get out to people. Then she mentioned something about electronic weapons, and that caught my attention.

  Later in the day, people had gathered in a large circle and were “passing the feather.” It was actually not a feather that day, but a small maraca. Each person who held it would speak of their thoughts and feelings while everyone else listened. When someone handed the maraca to me, I stood up, not really knowing what I would say. Then the words just came pouring from my mouth: “Nice day today. Too bad about the chem-trails.” I pointed up to the haze in the western sky, noting that the day had started with a clear sky until we observed those planes spraying trails that do not fade, as normal vapor trails do. A few people in the circle said, “Aho.” (This, I am told, is a Native American expression which means something like, “Amen,” “Right on,” or, “I agree with you.”)

  Continuing, I said, “I hear a lot of people sharing experiences with all of these messages of positivity and hope. I don't want to bring anything negative into this circle, but I feel compelled to say some things that need to be addressed. There are a lot of bad things happening in the world… cops going around murdering people, government starting wars for profit... and it seems that in order to stop the bad things from happening, there needs to be awareness. I mean, how can we stop the bad things if people aren't even aware that those things are happening? This morning, someone mentioned something about electronic weapons.” A woman stood up, saying, “Yes, that was me.” It was Audrey. I looked at her and said, “I have been dealing with this for over ten years. You are not alone.” “Thank you,” she said, “Thank you,” seeming grateful that I was acknowledging the issue. And though I rarely ever mentioned this subject to any of my friends, there I was, telling my story to more than fifty strangers:    “It all started for me in October of 2007 and continued for many years. It's like getting hit with a beam of energy that vibrates through my head and my chest.” Audrey was still standing, nodding her head while saying, “Yes, yes...Yes.” I continued, “I live on a farm, way out in the country. For a long time, I tried to believe that I was dealing with vibrations from the wind farms that are south of my home. Those wind generators are huge, and they have to be anchored way deep into the ground, so I thought maybe that was the cause of the vibrations I was feeling. But over time, I realized that this was something deliberate. I've been writing a detailed chapter about all of this…” Looking to Audrey, I said, “I'm also writing a book.” She was still standing and facing me, while most people in the circle were sitting. I went on, saying,“The thing is, at some point I became a target. I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The Government did nine-eleven.' Actually, I don't know who did nine-eleven, but whoever it was, they had the full cooperation of the United States Government, at the highest levels.” Someone in the circle said, “Aho.” “Anyway,” I continued, “The point is that I drew too much attention to myself, and I became another one of their targets.”

  As I spoke, a younger, bearded guy walked around the outside of the circle and put a hand on my left shoulder, saying, “Sorry to interrupt.” Then, in a louder voice, he spoke to the crowd, saying, “This guy is telling the truth. I've been through some stuff, and there's a lot of things I want to say when the feather comes around to me.” I was slightly annoyed that he had interrupted me, yet I allowed him to continue, as he was giving some verbal backing to my claims about electronic weapons. When he let me resume speaking, I tried to pick up where I had left off, though I was somewhat thrown off from a few points I had wanted to make.

  “This has all been a living nightmare for me. I keep hoping and praying that they will leave me alone. They didn't bother me for a year and a half. But when I started posting things on Facebook again, stuff about government corruption and war crimes... Lo and behold, they started zapping me again. It’s like they’re trying to control my freedom of speech.” Audrey said, “Yes, yes...” The rest of the circle remained silent as they patiently listened to what I was saying. While I've forgotten much of what I said that day, I do recall that near the end of my monologue, with emphasis, I said, “This stuff is real. It's electronic assault and harassment. It's electronic torture.” Several people said, “Aho.” I passed the maraca on to the next person to my left, and the speeches returned to less intense subjects.   With the passing hours, the evening had darkened as many of us gathered around the bonfire. Suddenly a woman walked over to me and said, “It is real. I had to move my entire office. My family has seen what this has all been doing to me.” For a few seconds I had mistaken her for Audrey, the woman who mentioned electronic weapons that morning. Then I realized that this was someone else talking to me. We spoke briefly about our experiences with electronic harassment. I did not get her name before she walked away. In the next moment I made a mental note about being surrounded by approximately fifty people, and of that fifty people, three or four of us were claiming to have been assaulted by electronic weapons.

  A while later I saw Audrey on the opposite side of the fire, and I stepped over to speak with her. With her right hand, she made a gesture near the left side of her head as she said, “I'm getting it right now. They're hitting me with it.” I asked,“Really? You're getting zapped right now?” She nodded her head, saying, “Uh-huh.” As soon as she said that, I had my doubts. It didn't seem real to me, but then I caught myself. In my mind, I asked, “Why wouldn't I believe her?” Only one month before this, I had the experience of getting zapped, not far from that same location, on the Friday afternoon before anyone else had arrived. Yet I was doubting this woman. In an instant, I felt surprised by my reaction. For more than ten years I had already dealt with this ongoing disturbance, then suddenly I was having doubts about another person's claims on the issue. This increased my realization that most people are not likely to believe any of this, especially if they have not experienced it for themselves.

  I wanted to get a copy of whatever Audrey had written, then Michael said that he grabbed one for me, so I stopped looking. After we returned to Kansas, I asked him about the copy but he said he had lost it.

  Back in Lawrence, I was getting more disturbed by the vibrations in the house. On the 24th of January, 2018, I began packing the van for another spontaneous trip, feeling chased away by the ongoing turmoil. Driving south on 59, I began to feel relief as I sped away from town. For three nights I stayed with my friends in Hutchinson. Everything felt calm. Then I spent three nights with my former neighbors in Wichita. All was calm and serene. Driving east on 400, I was slowly moving toward the Ozarks for the next ceremony, scheduled for February 3rd.

  I made the mistake of sending two messages about attending the upcoming ceremony in the Ozarks. These were “private” messages, sent through Facebook. When I arrived at my destination, everything felt calm. No one else was around. It was Friday evening, February 2nd. I went walking toward the area where people would be gathering in the morning. As soon as I got there, I felt a disturbing vibration and immediately turned to walk away. The vibe followed me. When I crawled in the van, the vibration seemed to increase with intensity. I went back outside and began walking across a field of grass, toward a highway bridge. Going under the bridge seemed to diminish the vibration, so I stayed down there for nearly an hour. When I emerged on the other side of the highway, walking out into the open, everything felt calm again. I slept in the van and felt no disturbances for the rest of the night.

  The next day passed without any weird-feeling vibrations. The ceremonies went on as usual, and I enjoyed visiting with several people. Late that night, however, I felt strong vibrations in my van, just as I was leaning in through the sliding door. It was like a field of weird energy was already being projected onto the van. Crawling in there, I felt absolutely sure I was being assaulted. I walked away and went under the bridge again, feeling slight relief from the vibes, though I was cold. When I came walking out from underneath, I felt the vibes going through me again. Then I returned to the van.

  Taking my blankets along, I walked way over to the river and found a sand bar to sleep on. It was soft and comfortable but I was shivering with cold, and the weird vibes were still assaulting me. I went back to the van, then to the chapel. About fifteen or twenty people were in there with their sleeping bags and blankets, laying all over the floor. I stood near the entrance, not wanting to wake anyone, yet unsure about where to go or what to do. I left the chapel and walked over to a small kitchen shack, looking around inside for some aluminum foil to wrap around myself. Finding none, I walked back over to the front entrance of the chapel, stepping in for a moment to get warm. Someone raised a head to look at me. All this time, I was getting zapped.

  Then I decided to leave. I went back to the van, started it up and drove out of there. It was after five o'clock in the morning, and I had not slept all night. The winding highway brought me west to the nearest town, and from there I went north until I connected with highway 60. Although I was sad to leave without telling anyone goodbye, I felt I had no choice, desperately needing to get away from the assault I was feeling. That afternoon I was caught in a snowstorm with car wrecks all up and down the highway. When the van started sliding around, and with the temperatures quickly dropping, I pulled over in the town of Clinton and booked a hotel room for the night.  

  When I returned to the house in Lawrence, I immediately asked my two house mates to not tell anyone I was back in town. Mostly, I stressed that I didn't want them texting or saying anything over their phones about my return. They both assured me they would not do such things. It was Tuesday afternoon, February 6th. No bad vibes were apparent for a day. By Wednesday evening though, I was feeling weird pulsations again, buzzing through my skull. I left the house and rode downtown on my bicycle, but the bad vibes seemed to be following me.

  I ran into Stella at the Jazzhaus, and she offered me a place to sleep in the upstairs of her place on Ohio Street. I walked with her to the parking garage, then she drove us to her house. She showed me the upstairs room and told me I was free to come and go, as the front door would remain unlocked. After going back to the Jazzhaus for another hour or so, I rode my bike over to Stella's place. When I went to lie down that night, I immediately felt a strange energy in my chest as my heart started racing, pounding intensely for no plausible reason – except for perhaps another electronic assault. With a heavy sigh, I cussed a few words and started putting my clothes back on. I rode my bike home and went upstairs, still feeling the strange pulsations in my head and chest.

  The next day I pulled a large cardboard box from the basement and broke it down to lie flat over me. Then I started layering sheets of aluminum foil over it, and each night I would pull it over the top of me before falling asleep. The cardboard had two folding points, allowing the flaps to hang over each side of me, with the middle portion resting directly over me. By morning it would be in shambles, with strips of foil falling in different directions, leaving only the bare cardboard above me. I went to buy some duct tape and spray adhesive, planning to make a more permanent blocking device. Before I spent time doing that, I wanted to use a much larger piece of cardboard – a refrigerator-sized box. I began asking for such a box at a home appliance store, and they promised to save the next refrigerator box for me.

  For now, I am still using the crappy rig of aluminum foil, loosely wrapped over the same piece of cardboard I was using. There were nights when I wasn't feeling any bad vibrations, so I didn't concern myself with it. The cardboard and aluminum stayed in the closet. Recently though, I have been feeling disturbing pulses of vibrations, so for the last two nights I have pulled the cardboard and aluminum shield over me. It seems to block some of the disturbance, and I am able to sleep with less concern about my well-being. Some folks might say that this is psychosomatic, though I say it is not. Either way, it's better for my healthy state of mind.

  On two separate occasions when I had the foil and cardboard shield over me, I clearly heard a small “popping” sound, like little grains of sand hitting against the aluminum. It was a steady tempo of tapping sounds; it had a rhythm to it. I first heard this back in January, then again last night, on the first of March. After feeling the disturbing vibrations for several hours before I settled in to sleep, I had just pulled the shield over me, and I was clearly hearing that tapping sound again. I laid there in disbelief, wishing I had something to record the sound with, or to make a video. My digital camera was not far away. Then I had a better thought that I spoke to myself: “If I'm gonna be wishing for things, then actually, I wish for these fuckin' vibes to go fuck off somewhere else and leave me alone.”

  In the morning, most of the foil had fallen away from the cardboard. I laid there wondering how much I had been getting zapped during sleep. Downstairs, I went through my stretch routine. Then sat on the toilet, pondering over which direction my day would go. A part of me wanted to find a different appliance store to get the box I needed to make a better shield. Another part of me wanted bring the computer to a coffee shop, hoping to find an end to this chapter.

  When I finally got a large refrigerator box, I opened it up to lay flat on the back porch. On a day that was sunny and calm, I began using spray adhesive to attach strips of aluminum foil to the cardboard. Brooke came outside to smoke a cigarette, and asked, “What are you making?”

  “Nothing. Don't worry about.”

  “I'm not worried, I'm just wondering what that is.”

  “I can't explain, Brooke. You wouldn't understand.”

  Then she was on the phone, talking to someone as she started saying, “Joe is out here making this… thing. It's a big piece of cardboard and he's putting…”

  I interrupted her.   “Brooke, will you stop? Just stop. It ain't nobody's business. It's none of your concern.”   I was annoyed with her for talking about my project over the phone. Several times, I had asked Brooke and Cory to not mention my presence around there, over the phone or internet, but they both kept doing it, anyway. Cory was sending me an email each month, showing the breakdown of the previous month's utility bills. That was pissing me off. He could have easily told me in person, as we would see each other nearly every day. He was basically confirming my location every time he did that. Multiple times throughout the winter, I had to leave, trying to get away from the electronic assault I was experiencing. No matter how many times I asked my housemates to not be sending anything online that would reveal my return or my presence there, they both kept on doing just that. I was also annoyed that I had shared much of this chapter with Cory, and he still didn't believe me. I should have known.

  When I began to move out, near the end of March, I kept noticing different people at different times, sitting nearby in an idle running car, just watching me as I loaded my things into the van. As usual, they were not picking up anyone or dropping anyone off, and they were not looking for a parking space. They were just watching me. One woman sat there for maybe an hour, staring at me as I brought many loads of things out to my van. Then I held up my arms and yelled, “What? What do you want?” I walked directly to her car, took a good look at her face as I walked past her car window, and continued to walk beyond her car. She appeared to be talking on a phone. I glanced at her license plate when I began to walk back toward my van, and as I walked past her, I spoke out the letters and numbers on her tag. A frightened look came over her face as she started driving away.

  After I had cleared all of my things out of the house, I temporarily stayed with Stella and Kelly, near Ninth and Ohio. I had already brought all of my big aloe vera plants to the farm, hoping we were beyond anymore hard freezes with the weather. Then I saw a forecast for really cold weather over the next few days. I had to make a sudden trip to the farm, to light up the wood stove and save the big aloes from freezing. It was the first day of April. There were multiple car accidents all along the highway, as wet snow was falling, then turning to ice on the road. I stopped at a rest area on Interstate 29 to get out of the traffic. Having recently bought a cell phone for the first time in my life, I called Herb's cell phone to tell him I was on my way up.   “I'm at the rest area on 29, south of Saint Joseph. There were car wrecks all up and down the highway, ever since I left Lawrence.”

  “Where are you calling from? I mean… how are you calling?”   “I bought a little flip-phone the other day. Anyway, I should be there in a couple hours.”

  Not long after I left the rest area, I noticed a little black sports car directly behind me, following way too closely. I slowed down to 60 miles per hour, but they did not pass me. I slowed to to 50, then 40. Any other car would have gone around me, but this car stayed directly behind me. I slowed down to 30, then 20. While all the other traffic was flying past us at seventy miles an hour or faster, this car remained close behind me. I was getting angry. I hit the breaks, several times, yet they still did not pass. Then I pulled onto the shoulder, rolled down my window and put my left arm out, pointing forward as a gesture for them to go around. They appeared to be pulling over behind me, like they were undercover cops or something. Then they started going past me, hesitantly, like they didn't know what to do to next. As they were finally going by, I yelled, “Get the fuck away from me! What the fuck do you want?!” With their windows closed, they likely didn't hear me. It was two men. They finally went on past me, then I sped up behind them to get a reading of their license plate. They took the next exit as I held up my middle finger, asking, “What the fuck was that?”

  It becomes more and more apparent to me that there is a vast network of creeps who are on a government payroll, wasting American tax dollars to spy on people like me – someone doing nothing wrong, but had made the mistake of speaking out about government corruption. It appears that these jerks are relentlessly watching me.

  When I arrived at Herb's house, Herb told me he was leaving for Guatemala in the morning. I was glad to have seen him before he left. He poured me a glass of beer as he, Larry, and I all talked. When I slept on the farm that night, everything remained calm. No weird vibrations were apparent. The next evening when I went to the Grove, Larry told me that Frank had called and wanted me to call him. As usual, Frank and I talked for more than an hour on the phone. Also as usual, our conversation evolved into an in-depth discussion about the evil in our government. That second night back on the farm remained calm.

  The next day, I was over at Herb's house when Larry and Russ walked in from somewhere. I went out to my van to grab some DVD movies I had borrowed from Russ. As I opened the passenger-side door, there on the road in front of me was a man in a tan-colored sports utility vehicle, sitting idle and looking at my van as he appeared to be talking on a phone. I wrongly assumed he was with Larry and Russ. Stepping back into the house, I asked, “Is that dude out there waiting for you guys?” Larry and Russ said they were not with anyone, so I quickly looked outside and saw the guy rolling away. Suddenly I felt a growing rage toward that man. It appeared that another person was keeping a watch on me. “God damn that fuckin' prick,” I said. “These creepy feds need to go find some bigger fish to fry. Jeezus Kreist, they are pissing me off.” Larry and Russ, I'm sure, were uncertain of what I was talking about. Still, I continued ranting about electronic weapons assaulting me for so many years.

  The next few nights on the farm remained calm, but then on the morning of Friday, April 6th I was sitting at my computer in the bus when I started feeling strange vibrations in my head and chest. “No. It can't be,” I said aloud. Then I focused my mind to “listen.” It was happening again. I was being assaulted. It seemed to be coming from the southeast, as it always had before. With another feeling of rage building inside me, I stood up, facing toward the direction of assault, clinched both of my fists and screamed, “God damn you, fucking cowards!” Turning off the computer, I began to organize a few things as I planned to drive the twenty or more miles to Frank's place.

  I stopped twice along the way, turning off the engine to “hear” the vibrations. I did not detect anything. When I pulled into Frank's driveway and shut off the engine, though, I felt the bad vibes again. Frank came walking outside as I said, “They're zapping me, Frank. I came all the way up here to get away from it, but I'm feeling it here, just as soon as I shut off the engine.” We both went into the house and talked about it as I paced back and forth, keeping my body moving around, not wanting to be a stationary target. My throat was feeling tense and tight again. Frank noticed me holding my throat, and he asked me about it. I told him, “Yeah, my throat keeps feeling all tight and numb for the last several months. I feel like they are targeting my glands in there.” I continued pacing back and forth. Then I went outside, walking toward the field to the east. I ducked behind the north wall of a metal shed and instantly felt relief from the assault, which seemed to be coming from the south. So I squatted there with my bare feet on the dirt as I imagined a computerized, automated tracking system that had lost me. In my mind, I pictured it quickly scanning the area, then perhaps resetting the weapon to an inactive position. I thought maybe it might let me be. After ten minutes or so, I walked back over and went into the house. I wasn't feeling anything weird for a while, but then the vibe became apparent again. I went out to hide behind the metal shed, and again I felt relief, but only for as long as I stayed there. Going back in the house, I told Frank, “That metal shed out there seems to block the vibes that appear to be coming from the south, from the direction of Albany.” Frank said, “From the south, that's where it was coming from when I was getting it.”

  I grabbed the phone to call my sister.   “Hello?”

  “Hey Liz, I need prayers again.”

  “Joe, Hi. I was just thinking about you.”  

  “Yeah... telepathy. Liz, I'm getting zapped again, and it's ruining my life.”

  Another long conversation ensued about the ongoing ordeal. We were on the phone for more than an hour. At one point, I mentioned that the ongoing electronic torture was making me feel suicidal at times. Liz said, “Oh, Joe, no...” I replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m not gonna let them win. There are things I want to do before I'm gone. Publishing my book is one of them. I need to get it done, but it's really difficult when I keep having to jump up and run away from the bad vibrations. My life is becoming more random and spontaneous, having to be constantly on the move. I don't tell people where I'm going, because usually I don't know. This is no way to live. I'm so tired of all this.”

  Again, Liz said she and her children would pray for me. In the next few days, I was relieved to observe the naturally occurring calmness around me. I went to Lawrence and returned, feeling only a calm peacefulness for many days. Then I was at herb's house when the phone rang. I was the only person in the house at the time, so I answered the call.   “Hello?”

  “Herb?”

  “Herb went to town for a bit.”   “Oh. Who's this?”   “Joe.”

  Oh, Hi Joe. This is Frieda. Are you back now?”

  “At the moment, yes.”

  “Are you gonna stay around for a while?”   “Maybe. I don't know.”

  She went on about a relative who was bringing a trailer to her property across the road. She asked if any vehicles were blocking the drive, and if so, could someone move them. I told her I would go look, and that I would speak to Herb about it. She called back three more times. While I tried to be polite and accommodating, she kept asking me questions that were specific to my whereabouts at any given time:

  “Are you going back over to the farm tonight?”

  “Yes.” With that reply, a discomfort came over me. It was a truthful answer, but I felt bad for saying it. This annoying phone call was demanding too much information, and I felt that my safety was being compromised. My mind was asking, “Why am I allowing this conversation to happen? Should I have just lied and said I am not going to the farm? Should I hang up the phone?” Then she asked,  

  “Will you be around Herb's tomorrow?”

  “Possibly.”

  “In the morning or in the afternoon?”

  “I don't know, Frieda. I gotta go.”

  It must have taken me another forty-seven seconds to shake her off the phone, and I became irritated, wondering why I didn't just hang up on her. In the days that followed, more electronically bad vibrations returned, bringing the nightmare back to life as I began to gather a few things for another trip to Lawrence. I felt angry with Frieda for asking so many questions, and I was angry with myself for responding to them. Driving away from it all, I said, “Fuck it. I just won't answer that phone anymore.”

Returning to Lawrence, I found some relief for a few days.

  On the internet, I discovered a woman named Doctor Katherine Horton. A physicist, formerly employed at CERN (the European Organization for Nuclear Research), Doctor Horton is a self-described whistle-blower and targeted individual. She was in multiple videos, addressing the issue of electronic assault and torture. In one of these videos, she held a detection device which lit up with lights and sound as she held it to areas around her head, especially when she held it near her throat. She said, “Look at this. Look at this,” as she moved it back and forth, close to her throat area, then away. The device was showing a more intense reaction each time it was near her throat. This woman was apparently being assaulted, electronically. She showed and described some of the measures she had taken to protect herself, including a Faraday cage and walls lined with aluminum. She was also interviewed in podcasts with other targeted individuals, discussing protective measures.

  I found it refreshing to hear people speaking of these things in such a matter-of-fact way. They all know the electronic assault is happening, and they get right to the point in their discussions. It gives me a sense of hope, knowing that some folks are out there speaking truth and raising awareness about this issue.

  All has been calm since my return two days ago. I was in Lawrence for five days, and my concerns about being targeted had faded. The strange experience of my throat going tight and numb, that had gone away as well. I was feeling grateful, giving thanks for the calm serenity that was completely normal for most of my life. Although I have wanted to call a few people, I've refrained from picking up the phone.

  On the evening of May the first, I was home on the farm, preparing to drive to the Grove when I heard a truck coming down the road. I decided to stay back in the darkness to see what the driver would do. Strangely, the truck slowed as it approached, turned toward the fence across the road from me, then backed up, turned in the direction it came from, and drove away. This was suspicious behavior. I thought that they could have been random thieves, looking to scour the farm. But I also felt that it could have been a part of the surveillance, checking to see if I was home. Most people are not going to drive the gravel road two miles away from the highway, just to turn around like they weren't actually going anywhere. It seemed obvious that the driver slowed and turned around as soon as he or she saw my van in the driveway.

  Everything remained calm through the night and into the morning. Herb came over here a while ago as I was cooking a pot of soup. He sat on the porch and talked to someone on his cell phone. At one point, I heard him say, “I'm up at Joe's place.” I gave Herb a bowl of soup, then he laid down to rest on the porch. I brought him a sleeping pad and pillow. After a short while, he got up to go back to the Grove. As Herb was driving away, I sat at my computer when suddenly I felt some weird pulses of vibrations coming from the southeast. Again, I felt my throat getting tight and numb. I had not felt anything like that for about a week. Making a mental note that Herb had just mentioned on the phone that he was “up at Joe’s place,” I thought maybe that call could have alerted someone to my presence there, and perhaps that had something to do with the weird vibrations abruptly returning.

  The bad vibes were off and on for the next two days as I gradually organized the van for another drive away from the farm. On Friday evening, May 4th, I drove over the Missouri River at Atchison, Kansas, and continued down to Lawrence. As usual, I've apparently escaped of “their” tracking system, as I have not been feeling any weird vibrations now for the last three days. Often I have thought that if “they” were that serious about continuing to assault me, they could have put a tracking device on my van. I wouldn't know where to look for such a device, and with modern technology, the thing could be extremely small. But it seems that no tracking devices have been on the van, because I generally seem to escape the torment when I drive sufficiently far and fast.

  On the farm, May 17th, 2018: I left here thirteen days ago to escape the weird vibrations. I Had not felt much of anything bad since leaving. For the most part, everything has been calm, with no tension or numbness in my throat area. Three days ago, on Monday I returned, and everything remained calm until just a while ago.

  Earlier today, I drove to town to renew my vehicle registration, get some groceries, and I picked up some movies from the Library. I wondered if checking out things from the library would alert certain people of my return, or maybe renewing my vehicle registration might have made my presence known. I am certainly not not looking for any bad vibes to return, though I couldn't help noticing that something hasn't felt right since I parked at Herb's house. Then I drove here to the farm, and my throat has been feeling stiff again. There is the slightest sensation of a vibration, ever so faint, yet it's enough to let me know that something is not right. Suddenly I am faced with perhaps another spontaneous escape from this place.

  It has been five days since I wrote that last paragraph. I rolled to Lawrence on Sunday afternoon, feeling free of the weird energy after I got far away from the farm. My first stop was at the Gaslight Tavern for the weekly open jam.

  The next evening, I went to Papa Keno’s for the open jam session. Shortly after I began playing my guitar, a middle-aged couple came out onto the back patio. Sitting at a table, they immediately lifted their phone-cameras and started recording me and the others. It felt wrong and it seemed out of place, and I turned away to keep my image from being captured, though I knew it was already too late. I felt nearly certain that those two were another pair surveillance people. The man went inside Papa Keno’s for a moment. When the woman continued to aim her camera-phone at me, I walked over to her and said, “Will you please stop pointing your camera at me?” I felt a strong urge to grab the beverage from her table and throw it in her face, but I restrained myself. She said, “Oh, Okay,” as she lowered her phone. When her partner returned, she whispered something to him and he looked at me. I glared at both of them, almost wishing for some terrible tragedy to fall upon them.

  I stepped away from the patio and walked down the alley, around the south end of the block, then north on Massachusetts Street. As I went through the front door of Papa Keno’s, those same two people were in there, appearing like they were leaving, though they seemed hesitant about what they were doing. They both acted surprised, even nervous about me suddenly being there in front of them. As they exited the place, I watched through the front window glass, observing their behavior as they went across the street and continued going north. Several times, the man turned back to look at me.

  I went out the back door to speak with the others. Of all my friends and acquaintances on the patio, none of us knew those two people. They were unfamiliar to all of us, yet they immediately started recording us when they arrived. One of my friends suggested, “Maybe they were just excited about the music and wanted to film it.” I replied, “That’s entirely possible, but that’s not how it felt to me.”   After all the years of being electronically assaulted, while also noticing the strange people following or photographing me, I felt more resentment and disdain for those creeps – working for an evil government, targeting innocent people, and living off of taxes like a bunch of parasites. Perhaps those who do the following and photographing are completely disconnected from, and unaware of the programs of electronic assault. Such may be the case with compartmentalized government operations. Perhaps it’s like the saying goes: “The left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.”

  While I can offer no proof that those two people at Papa Keno’s were spies or informants, my intuition strongly told me it was so. Many of these encounters might have gone completely unnoticed by me, had I not experienced the years of electronic assault, coinciding with incidents of surveillance. What the trauma has done is put me on high alert, making me pay close attention when people’s behavior becomes obviously strange and out of place. And though some people would call this paranoia, I call it awareness. There is a big difference.

  Little Farm, 17th of June: I was down in the garden, wearing the upper portion of a protective bee suit to keep the mosquitoes away from me while I hoed weeds. Suddenly I heard several guys on ATVs roll up near the driveway. They were noisily sitting idle, just outside of the driveway as I heard a voice yelling, “You wanna go first?” I got the impression that they were about to roll across the Little Farm bridge. (One of Herb’s cars had recently been vandalized, as someone had smashed out most of the window glass with a brick, and I was thinking about that incident when I heard these guys yelling.) Before they attempted to come onto the farm bridge, I emerged from behind some trees and bushes, and began to walk toward them with the hoe in my hand. As soon as they saw me, they all started driving away, crossing the county bridge toward the south. They were fat and bald, with mustaches on their faces. Their behavior was suspicious, and they seemed like cops. It was an intuitive feeling that occurred to me; they had that “cop vibe.” Then I had the thought that I should have waited behind the bushes to see what those guys would have done if they thought nobody was there. Would they have come onto the Little Farm? If so, then what? Feeling slightly disturbed about the encounter, I walked up the hill to my place.

  Later that night, I started getting heavily zapped. It was some of the strongest electronic assault I had felt in years, and I immediately began to pack the van for departure. I wondered if perhaps there was a correlation between the odd experience in the south driveway, and then getting zapped a few hours later. “It wouldn’t surprise me if some cops have been involved,” I said to myself as I began packing a few things into the van, planning to leave in the morning. I slept under the cardboard and aluminum shield which seemed to be blocking the assault. The zapping continued steadily through the night and into the next morning, as I finished packing for a drive to Lincoln. Putting away the ladder, turning off the propane, and locking the gates, I was frantic about trying to hurry away and escape the onslaught of bad energy.

  My niece, Nancy, had invited me to her wedding, scheduled to take place on the 23rd of June. So I drove toward Lincoln, five days early. For most of that drive, I felt like the vibe was still on me, though it was difficult to decipher with all the normal vibrations of rolling on the road.

  Arriving at Liz and Frank's place, I parked under the shade of a tree. (Frank in Nebraska is my sister’s husband, not to be confused with Frank from Missouri.) I felt rattled, yet uncertain if I was still getting zapped. Soon, however, I was totally feeling it. I began to notice that the attack seemed to be coming from a place in the southern sky, about forty-five degrees up from the horizon. In all the years I had been to visit Liz and Frank, I had never felt the electronic assault on their property. They had been on a ten-acre spread for many years now, and it was always a calm place of refuge for me. That afternoon, however, I went into the van three times, pulling the aluminum shield over myself, feeling relief while napping and sweating. The temperature was really hot that day, though I didn’t mind the heat; it was nothing compared to getting zapped. The first two times I came out from under my shield, I was still feeling the assault. The third time, however, all seemed calm, like the weapon had finally switched off.

  I felt really upset that I was getting targeted at Liz and Frank's farm. I told Liz about it, though she was preoccupied with wedding preparations. I asked her if she had told anyone of my presence there, over the phone or internet. She said, “I called Anne and told her you were here.”   “When was that?”

  “Not long after you arrived.”

  “Well, that would explain it.”

  For the next five days, I felt the usual symptoms of a numb throat and jaw area, pressure in my skull, and the continuing pulses of vibrations. Each night, I found relief by sleeping under the protection of my aluminum shield.

  On the morning of the wedding, I was talking to Frank in the living room when I suddenly felt strong electronic pulses coming from that same part of the southern sky. It was enough to make me spin around and go out the north door, through the mud porch. I went out the east storm door and immediately crouched down beside the foundation wall of concrete blocks, hoping it would shield against the oncoming assault. I did feel alleviation. It seemed that I had temporarily shaken whatever tracking system had been locked onto me. I stayed squatting there for several minutes, breathing sighs of relief, wondering how long until “it” latched onto me again. That last series of pulsations interrupted my chat with Frank. He had been speaking to me at the time when I abruptly turned around and left the room. A few seconds later, I was crouching near the north foundation wall.

  After I stood up and walked around the northeast corner of the house, all felt calm, as though I had successfully escaped detection for a while. But as soon as I returned to my van, leaning in to grab something, I felt the vibes latching onto me again.

  My brother Dave drove us to the wedding. It was at a Catholic church in Lincoln. As far as I could tell, the tracking system was still on me, still causing that constant numbness below my tongue, and the familiar pressure in my skull. The wedding was long and unbearably dull – a Catholic mass with an arrogant priest spouting words of ignorance. He was annoying. Moreover, I still felt like I was getting zapped by something in the southern sky. So I exited several times, noting a feeling of relief from the vibrations when I stepped outside the church and stayed near a north wall.

  When Dave and I left the church parking lot, we followed our nephew a few blocks east to a health food store, and I felt completely disconnected from the weird vibes, having apparently evaded them again. Then we all went to the reception, ten miles away, mostly to the west. For several hours, I felt free from the electronic assault. It was gone, and I knew I had broken free again. At the same time, I suspected that whenever I returned to my van, the bad vibes might return.

  Dave drove us back to Liz and Frank's property, and sure enough, when I opened the sliding van door and leaned in to grab a few things, I felt that weird energy going through me again. I started building a fire in the nearby fire pit, thinking, “What else am I going to do?” I smoked some cannabis through a carrot and continued putting sticks on the fire. Then people began to return from the wedding reception, mostly my nieces and nephews. Several of them were asking me to sing songs. So I strummed a guitar and sang, feeling like I was getting zapped the entire time. I tried to ignore the assault while I focused on the feeling of the music.

  After a while, I put the guitar away, thinking I needed to get ready for bed. Mostly, I wanted to pull the aluminum shield over myself for protection. It was undeniable, the relief I felt whenever I was using that shield during my time there. At one point, I said to myself, “The good news is that the shield seems to be working. The bad news is that it’s probably been a microwave weapon zapping me.”

  Waking up on Sunday morning, I pushed the shield to the side and immediately felt bad vibes, like a field of weird energy was being projected onto the van throughout the night. With the usual disturbing feelings of electronic assault going through me, I went through my morning stretches.

  Then I started organizing a small pack to bring to Colorado. My nephew Tom had offered me a ride, saying I could sleep on the couch in his apartment. So I accepted the offer. As we rolled further away from Lincoln, my anxiety began to diminish with the fading vibrations. During the early part of the drive, I told Tom and Katie about my ongoing ordeal with electronic weapons, while stressing that I did not want anyone on their phones, speaking or texting about me riding to Colorado. They both agreed to “keep it on the down-low,” and they didn't seem to think I was crazy when I told them my story. With each stop we made during the six hour drive, I noted the complete disconnect I felt from any hint of electronic assault.

  For a week I slept on the couch in Tom’s apartment. Each day while Tom and Katie were at work, I took long walks through the surrounding neighborhoods of Lakewood, feeling extremely grateful for the relief I was feeling. Most of that time, I was reluctant to log into my email or Facebook accounts, fearing the dreaded return of the electronic nightmare. I kept mentioning to Tommy that I had not felt any bad vibes ever since we drove to Colorado: “It’s been like a complete disconnect from any of that electronic weirdness. It’s such an obvious difference... I can tell that they’ve lost track of me again. They don’t know where I am.” Tom said, “Well, that’s good.” “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Everything feels totally calm... like it was for most of my life before all that weird shit started.”

  Then one day I took my computer a few blocks away to borrow the wifi signal from a tire store, making sure my VPN service was turned on. After looking at my email and Facebook accounts, I closed the computer and began to walk north, across Colfax Avenue. About midway up the next block, I suddenly felt an electrical kind of pulse coming from the northwest, and penetrating into my skull. Multiple thoughts raced through my mind, like, “Am I getting zapped? Was it just some cell phone microwaves flying by? Maybe it’s wifi signals.” Walking toward Tom’s apartment with my throat feeling strange, I took an indirect route, altering my course several times in an attempt to avoid being tracked or followed. At one point, I stepped into a creek and went under a bridge, partly as an attempt to decipher whether I was feeling differently down there, and also to shake off any type of electronic tracking system which may have been onto me.

  When I finally came back above ground, I ran toward Tom’s place and let myself in, breathing heavily from the running. Katie asked, “Are you okay? What’s going on?” Between deep breaths, I said, “I was just trying to… shake off a weird vibe that... I thought might have latched onto me...” As my breathing slowed, I told Kate and Tom what I had experienced after logging into my email and Facebook accounts. For the next several days, there were moments when I wondered if I was catching any weird vibes. I was no longer feeling the “complete disconnect” of the previous week. Instead, I was noticing occasional pulses of weird energy that kept me wondering.

  Then my sister Anne invited me to stay with her and Duncan. So I gathered my things and settled into a basement room in Arvada. For the first few days, everything felt calm and normal. But after talking on the phone and using the internet, I started feeling weird vibrations again. At times I wondered If it might be the nearby freezer or refrigerator causing the disturbance, so I would step outside the room, only to notice that those appliances were not running at the time; they were completely silent. Then I went upstairs to see if any fans were on. No fans were running. So what were all of these strange pulses of vibrations I kept feeling, and why was everything completely calm for the first several days? Initially, I was reluctant to talk on the phone or use the internet. Then I let down my guard, and everything went strange again.

  At times, it seems there is no escape. When I run into friends and relatives, they want to take pictures of me and post them on social media. They also text each other about seeing me somewhere. I began thinking, “Do I have to abandon everyone I know and move to another country?”

  For many years I had remained mostly silent about my ongoing experience with the electronic assault. In recent months, however, I had begun to tell more people about it.

  My cousin Janelle came to visit Anne’s family during the time when I was there. On the Fourth of July, Janelle and I were out at Tony’s place near a lake. As we talked under the shade of a porch roof, I began to relay most of my story to her. She was receptive, patiently listening, then she said, “Wow, Joe. That’s quite a story.” It was not in a tone of ridicule or doubt; she seemed to believe me.

  A few days later, I was riding in a car with my niece, Kim, and a few of her kids. While driving us through Westminster, Kim spoke of a friend, telling me, “Her dad had mental illness.” Then I noted a hint of ridicule in Kim’s voice when she said, “He thought the government was after him.” I interjected, saying, “How do you know they weren’t?”   “What?”   “Kim, I’ve been having my own struggle with the government. They’ve been messing with me for more than ten years.”

  “Really? What do you mean?”

  I began telling her my story, from being an outspoken activist, to the surveillance I had noticed at times, to the ongoing electronic attacks. When we arrived at her house, the conversation continued into the kitchen. I gave her many details, including the case of Pedro Campos in Puerto Rico, the podcasts with Doctor Katherine Horton and other targeted individuals, and the things Annie Jacobsen had spoken of on the radio. At one point, Kim said, “Uncle Joe, I believe you.” I replied, “Thanks, Kim. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

   Occasionally I talked with Anne about the disturbance. She said she believes me. I did not mention any of it to Duncan because I was fairly certain he wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t think he would keep the conversation between the two of us, since Anne told me that he cannot keep a secret about anything.

  The strange vibrations at Anne and Duncan’s house were off and on for several weeks. I took frequent walks to escape the disturbance, exploring the parks that run along Ralston creek. On days when I felt the vibe was still on me, I stayed for some time in the tunnel that goes under Simms Street, pacing back and forth, hoping the thick concrete would be enough to escape detection. Every time I went walking, which was several times a day, I always felt calm upon my return, like nothing was zapping me. Then the weird vibrations would start up again.

  When I first escaped to Colorado during the last week of June, I did not know how long I would be out here. I thought it might be a couple of weeks. Yet Anne kept encouraging me to stay longer, saying she wanted to throw a birthday party for me and two of my nephews. So I stayed around and tried to work on the book. A few weeks had gone by when I called Liz on the phone to discuss my eventual return to her place:   “Is it alright that my van is still parked there under that tree?”   “Oh yeah, it’s fine.”

  “Thanks. At some point, I’m gonna take the train from Denver to Lincoln. It arrives after three in the morning, so I don’t know what I’ll do. As much as I would like to see all of you, I might just get in the van and drive away. I want to go to a random place for a while, to see if everything remains calm. I need to know if there is some kind of tracking device on my van. I’ll leave you guys a note or something.”   “That’s alright, I understand. How’s it going out there?”   “I don’t know. I’m still getting some weird vibes at times. Whatever this is, and who ever has been doing it, I wish they would leave me alone. I’m sure they think they’re clever with all their technology, but they’re really just a bunch of cowards.”   “Yeah.”   “Anyway, I did escape to the mountains a few times, and that was nice.”

   Although my three treks to the tops of Colorado mountains were adventurous, the third trip was disturbing. In his truck, Duncan drove us to the base of Uncompahgre Peak in Southwest Colorado, where we camped for the night. Waking early, we began our hike at around 3:30 in the morning, and I was feeling a steady vibration going through me. Hiking up the trail, I wondered, “Am I getting zapped?” It most certainly felt like I was. I thought about Duncan using his GPS (Global Positioning System) when he drives anywhere. That would make our location known to certain people in government. We descended down the mountain and prepared to leave. Duncan was driving us along the rocky road away from there, when something strange happened. We passed a man and woman who were driving an off-road vehicle toward the base of the mountain, and as we went past them, the woman held up a camera and took a picture of us. Duncan and Tom both commented on the oddness of that occurrence. For me, it was a moment of verification – another incident of surveillance, along with the vibration I had been feeling that entire time; it bolstered my suspicion that I had been electronically assaulted all the way up and down that mountain.

  During the last week at Anne and Duncan’s house, I was feeling strange electronic pulses in other parts of the house, apart from the room I was staying in. Taking more frequent walks, I managed to avoid some of the weird vibrations. Near the end of August, I went to house-sit for Tom and Kate for five days. Everything felt normal and calm while I was there. The apartment was only a few blocks from a Denver Light-Rail train stop, so when Tom and Kate returned, I gathered my things and rode the W train to Union Station in downtown Denver.

  Paying with cash, I bought an Amtrak Train ticket to Lincoln, scheduled to depart that evening. My hope was to slip away from Colorado unnoticed, without being tracked. After seven or eight hours on the train, I rode a taxi to Liz and Frank’s place. The van battery was dead. Frank helped me with charging the battery before I drove east.

  In Maryville, Missouri, I stopped to buy some groceries, including a large bottle of Heineken beer. When the young lady at the register asked to see my identification, I asked, “Do I really look too young to buy this beer?” She said, “I’m required to ask everyone for their I.D. when purchasing alcohol.” I said, “That’s ridiculous, since I’m obviously way over the required age of twenty-one.” Then I pulled out my driver’s license and held it out to show her the date of birth. She took it from my hand and scanned it. When I heard the “beep” sound, I said, “Fuck! What did you do that for?” I put my right hand over my eyes, feeling angry and upset. After being so careful to get away from Colorado without being noticed by “the enemy,” suddenly I felt that I was likely on their control grid again. I asked the cashier, “Are you familiar with the book, ‘1984,’ by George Orwell?” She replied, “I’ve heard of it.” I said, “Maybe someday you might read it.”

    Upon returning to the farm, everything remained calm for about a week. On September fifth, I received a package that Anne sent from Colorado. That night, I started feeling the disturbing vibrations again, so I drove to Lawrence, getting some peace and calm for several days before returning to the farm. Throughout September, October, and November, the same pattern repeated: I would enjoy several days of calm on the farm, then disturbing vibes would return, so I’d pack a few things and escape to Lawrence.

  On Saturday, October 27th, I drove toward Lawrence. Passing through Oskaloosa, I turned west on highway 92 and went to visit Stan and Cathy’s home near Perry Lake. Shutting off the van in front of their house, I immediately felt the weird vibrations going through me. Stan came outside talking to me, and I was temporarily distracted from the vibrations. Inside the house, Cathy gave me a hug, and Stan poured me a glass of beer. They were inviting me to join them on the deck overlooking the lake, and to fly Stan’s drone while making video of the flight. But I was feeling that continuing, disturbing vibration, and though I really wanted to experience flying the drone and seeing the view from above, I knew I could not stay. Several times I paused, focusing on the electronic assault, then Stan said, “Are you okay, Joe?”

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I really wanted to fly the drone and drink this tasty beer, but I can’t stay.”

  “Is something wrong? You looked like you were having a moment of revelation there for a minute.”

  “Yes, something is definitely wrong. I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. But apparently I was too outspoken, and I became a target. The government has been messing with me for more than ten years. I used to carry a big sign that said, ‘The government did nine-eleven,’ and I really regret being that outspoken about things. Back then I was like, ‘freedom of speech, use it or lose it.’ I had no idea of the repercussions or consequences of speaking out against an evil government. I was so naive.”

  Tears were running down my face. I felt devastated, knowing that the perpetrators of electronic torture had tracked me to my friends’ home. It was no longer a place where I could feel safe, and that made me extremely sad. The last time I was there, which was about a week earlier, Stan had expressed interest in reading my book, and giving me his thoughts about it. So I put all of the chapters on his computer, including this one. Could that be the reason why the government criminals were now assaulting me there? I had never told Stan and Cathy about the years of electronic assault, feeling that they probably wouldn’t believe me. I hugged them both and drove away with tears rolling down my face. Arriving in Lawrence that evening, I detected no more of the bad vibrations.

  On Monday, November 19th, I left the farm for another escape to Lawrence. North of town, I stopped by a friend’s house near Wellman Road. It happened again. When I shut off the van, the vibrations were obvious. This was a place I had been to many times, for about fifteen years, and I had never felt the electronic assault there. I told my friend that I had to leave. When I got to Lawrence, everything felt calm and normal.  

  Though I did not feel any disturbing vibrations in Lawrence during these past few months, I did notice an alarming increase in the level of surveillance over me. It was completely obvious on many occasions. The surveillance continued in Wichita. The only reason I can fathom for the ridiculous amount of surveillance I’ve been seeing, is that the government criminals know I am trying to tell this story. In December of 2018, I drove to South Texas to avoid the cold weather. I was sleeping in my van every night. The surveillance over me continued in San Antonio, Port Isabel, South Padre Island, and El Paso. I could give many details as to how I know I’ve been under constant surveillance, yet I may save all of that for another chapter. It is just too much information to keep cramming into this chapter, and I am tired of all of it.

  While I was still in Wichita during early December, neighbor Marc emailed me some ebooks from Author Richard Lighthouse. Here are a few excerpts from his book, Targeted Individuals & the Air Force Space Command:

  “These medical doctors, scientists, and former intelligence agents have made statements

supporting the evidence that microwave satellite attacks are real, and happening on a global

basis:

Dr John R. Hall, M.D., author (“New Breed: Satellite Terrorism in America”)

Dr Daniel Lebowitz, M.D. (Senate Committee presentation, 2014)

Dr Barrie Trower, government Scientist, microwave expert (youtube videos)

Dr Katherine Horton, Oxford University Scientist (youtube videos)

Dr Spencer Carter, M.D. (BiggerThanSnowden.com)

Dr Colin Ross, M.D., author (“The CIA Doctors”)

Dr Robert Duncan, author

Dr Doug Rokke, government Scientist

Dr Eric Karlstrom, Professor

Dr Nick Begich, Scientist

Dr Paul Batcho, government scientist

Dr Paul Marko, Psychologist

Dr Curtis Bennett, Professor

Dr Corkin Cherubini, author

Dr Matthew Aaron, Scientist

Dr Sean Andrews, Scientist

Willam Binney, NSA Whistleblower

Kirk Weibe, NSA Whistleblower

Karen Stewart, NSA Whistleblower

Carl Clark, CIA Whistleblower

Kevin Shipp, CIA Whistleblower

Mark Phillips, CIA Whistleblower

John DeCamp, Army intelligence Whistleblower”

    “There are 4 active-duty squadrons within the 50th Operations Group, under the Air Force

Space Command. According to the Linkedin Profile of Charles Shurchay (Superintendent -

Air Force Space Command) there are 1,300 personnel, 7 DoD Satellite constellations, and 9

weapon systems that are operated under the 50th Operations Group. Clearly, these are not

simply communications satellites.

  Many of these satellites are positioned in geosynchronous orbit, and are part of a network that

includes communications, tracking, and attack satellites. Using the precise GPS coordinates

of any Targeted Individual, the coordinates can be transferred to local cell towers or UAV

drones for additional targeting. The GPS coordinates are accurate to +/- 0.5 centimeters or

better, which allows different body parts to be targeted and attacked in a grisly, daily ordeal.”

    In another of his books, Cell Towers and Targeted Individuals, Richard claims that most of these attacks on targeted individuals are coming from microwave cell phone towers. This would make sense regarding the attacks on the farm that I felt were coming from the southeast, as there is an array of cell phone microwave towers that are east of the farm, extending southward. According to Richard Lighthouse, these microwave attacks are being orchestrated by the United States Air Force, under the direction of the CIA.

  After all of the strange incidents of surveillance in Texas, I began having thoughts that I need to get this chapter out on a public internet forum. Then maybe the government criminals will leave me alone and let me finish my book. I hope so. Or they might kill me. I hope not. My computer started doing strange things after two creeps sat suspiciously close to me at some outdoor tables on Padre Island. Then I tried connecting to the internet in Port Isabel at several locations with public wifi, but it would not connect. I tried several more times on the way back to San Antonio, but could not get connected to any public wifi. After attempting to connect from outside a store in El Paso, a creepy helicopter came along, going fairly low when it flew directly over my van. That’s when I got back on the highway and drove all the way to Las Cruces and beyond. I went as far west as Tucson, and south to Bisbee.

  Then I started back toward the east. From New Mexico in the final days of 2018, I decided to drive north and go all the way to my sister’s place in Colorado. The government criminals know I am here. I am hoping to throw this document out there on the internet soon. I am not looking for anyone’s sympathy, I just want people to know that these microwave attacks are happening. Treasonous criminals are wasting billions of tax dollars to assault, harass, and torture innocent civilians in this country and around the world.  

  Feeling extremely weary of writing this story, I want it to be over. Not only has this been the most depressing chapter in my book, it has also been the most depressing chapter of my life, and I want this sad chapter to end.

[littlefarmjoe-blog]

Waves                             Copyright 2018, Joe Avery

                                                The author grants permission for this document to be shared only in it’s entirety.

                                                          The author does not consent to allowing any portion to be taken out of context of the whole document.                      

    Excuse me for being naive, I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. Then I learned that by speaking about certain things, I became a target. It took a long time to understand what was happening to me. For more than ten years I have been repeatedly attacked, forced to live like a fugitive on the run, though I have done nothing wrong. These events have been written in chronological order, in the way it all unfolded for me. As time went by, the amount of evidence grew. This is not a story I want to be telling. I know it is likely to stir much criticism, ridicule, and slander against me. None of that matters. Many other people are enduring a struggle that is similar to mine. This is a story that needs to be told.

    For the first twelve years of living on the Missouri farm, there was a calm stillness that I never really thought about until it was overtaken by a strange vibration. I had lived here since 1995, and one night in October of 2007, everything changed. I was immersed in sleep when suddenly I was jolted awake by a weird, vibrating energy. It hit me with intensity. Whatever it was made me sit up in bed, directly out of a deep sleep. It was a low, humming vibration, and I could feel it going through me. It seemed like it was going through everything.

  Instantly I sat up, saying, “What the fuck is that? With my mind racing for a logical explanation, the first thing I imagined was that some heavy machinery was rolling down the road. I thought maybe it was the road grader or a big bulldozer. I looked at the clock, and it showed about two-thirty in the morning. Pulling back the covers, I got out of bed and walked out into the hallway. Then I made my way through the bus. I noticed that the tone of the vibration was not changing in the way you would expect it to, if it was coming from something moving down the road. It stayed at the same tonal vibration as I walked toward the back door of the bus. When I stepped outside and onto the porch, I almost lost my perception of the vibration. The sounds of the wind in the trees, the crickets, and the frogs were making it difficult to “hear” the vibe. Yet as I stood there and focused my mind, I could feel it going through me.

  This weird vibration continued into the next day and for many days that followed. It was disturbing. At random times of the day, I paused and paid attention to decipher if it was still going. Most of the time, it was. There were moments when I didn't perceive it, but it kept coming back. I told other people about it, though no one seemed interested. One day when several people were sitting in the bus, I focused my mind to determine if the vibration was happening, and it was. I asked my visitors, “Do you guys hear that low, humming sort of sound?” They all paused and listened, then they said they didn't hear anything. I explained, “It's not really a sound, it's more of a vibration... a very low vibration.” Still, they didn't notice it. I was baffled and concerned about whatever this was, and it was beginning to really bother me as the days went by.

  Before all of this began, I had been planning to take a trip through Europe for several months. A roofing job in Wichita that summer had earned me enough money to make it happen. So I was at the farm, preparing for my trip when these weird vibrations started happening. As the days went by, I became more concerned about the bad vibes, and I grew more anxious to leave. When I finally left near the end of October, I felt relieved to be away from it all.

  After a few days of Halloween festivities in Lawrence, Kansas, I prepared for a trip eastward. I took a train from Lawrence to Chicago, and another train to Boston. Then I rode a bus to New York City. From there, I flew across the Atlantic Ocean. I spent five months traveling through Sweden, Germany, Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. In April of 2008, I returned to North America, and after some time in New York City, I rode a train to Chicago and another train to Lawrence.

  When I returned to the farm, I did not notice the weird vibration for a while. Eventually though, it became apparent again. Sometimes it would abruptly appear and continue for many hours. Other times, it seemed to be coming in waves, fluctuating between strong and mild vibrations. When people came to the farm, I would ask if they felt the vibes, though they always said they didn't notice anything.

  Then one day I called Frank on the phone. When I told him about the weird vibrations, he asked, “Is it like a low-frequency kind of thing?”

  “Yes! A really low, humming sort of vibration.”

  “I've been getting it for a couple of years.”

  “Really? What is it? What do you think it is?”

  “They're fuckin' with us, Joe.”

  I knew that Frank was speaking of the government, or at least some rogue elements within the government. In my mind, I had already considered that possibility, though I did not want to believe I was dealing with such a thing. I didn't know what it was. I only knew that I definitely felt it. It was really strong at times, vibrating through all of my body, through my skull, my eyeballs, and my organs. It seemed to be going through through all of my cells. Whatever it was, I didn't like it.

  For years I endured this weird vibration, and it always bothered me. Sometimes it was extremely “loud,” feeling like it was penetrating through every fiber in my body. Other times it was more subtle, yet it was almost always happening. Pictures entered my mind: images of government creeps somewhere with their hands on a dial, turning the intensity up and down while pointing electronic weapons at different targets around the world.

  Was I a target? Had I become a target? I began to speculate.

  Early in 2006, I rode with a group of about twenty people as we traveled to the city of Washington, to protest against the war in Iraq. It was cold, winter time. We held our signs outside of the Pentagon as hundreds of civilian and military personnel went into and out of the building. The cops pushed us around, yelling at us to get back off of the sidewalk. They took pictures of us. We also marched around outside of the capitol building with our signs. Some people in our group were arrested.

  Many times during the years of 2006 and 2007, I walked around with a big sign in my hands, which read: “9-11, The government did it.” I carried a sign like that during the Rainbow Gathering in Colorado, in July of 2006. I was handing out websites and information to people. Some law enforcement officers took pictures of me holding my sign. Two months later when September eleventh came around, I paraded with my sign through downtown Lawrence. Irritated that so many people still believed in the “official” version of “Nine-Eleven,” I felt it was my duty to tell the truth. I ended up on sixth street near the river. It was rush-hour traffic with many cars going by. Some people gave me thumbs up, other people cussed at me. One woman drove by, yelling, “You should be arrested for treason!” I laughed and waved as I said, “For exercising my freedom of speech.” A year later, on the eleventh of September, I walked through downtown Wichita with my sign. A strange woman stepped around the corner of a building, lifted a camera and took a picture of me. Then she quickly disappeared.        

In addition to carrying my sign, I was also passing around DVDs containing documentary films about the attacks of Nine-Eleven.

  So I had put myself out there in the streets and on the trails while people had taken pictures of me. And there was Myspace. A friend showed me this website where I could upload my own music, putting it out there for the general public to hear. I thought that was great. Over time, however, I went far beyond sharing my songs. I connected with “9/11 truth” groups through Myspace, posting many articles and documentary films about the false-flag attacks of September Eleventh, 2001. I began to see the internet as a valuable means of sharing information and getting the truth out to people. These things were all happening in 2006 and 2007, in the year or so that led up to my first experiences with the bad vibrations at the farm.

  After one of my trips to the East Coast, I rode a Greyhound bus from New York City to Wichita. We made several stops in New Jersey, and at one of those stops, a peculiar woman boarded the bus. She sat in a seat across the aisle from me, on the right-hand side of the bus, and about four or five seats forward. She turned to look at me for a few seconds, then she turned back toward the front. It seemed weird and out of place. The bus driver announced that there would be a fifteen-minute smoke break at the next stop. When the bus stopped, most of the passengers unloaded themselves out onto the sidewalk, some smoking cigarettes and some going inside the convenience store. I stepped out of the bus, walked past the bench and the smokers, and I went into the store. Wandering down a few aisles, I saw nothing I wanted. So I went out the door, turned right on the sidewalk, and walked past the bench. The woman who had looked at me so intently in the bus, she was now sitting on the bench. The moment I walked by, she held up a camera and took a picture of me. I was fully aware of that as I was stepping up into the bus. It appeared to be a regular digital camera, not a cell phone. Cell phone cameras were not as prevalent back then. Returning to my seat, I felt annoyed that another stranger had just taken my picture. I decided I was going to say something to her when she got back in the bus. But she never did. While all the other passengers had returned to their seats, that strange woman did not.

  Other incidents like this have occurred, though I don't recall some of the details. I do remember a moment when I was in a crowded bus station somewhere out west, high on cannabis, on a layover between bus trips. Suddenly a man walked over to me, held a camera directly in front of my face, took a picture of me, then he quickly turned around and vanished into the crowd. Again, it was a traditional camera, not a cell phone. I remember saying, “What the hell was that all about?” After many encounters like this, it seemed apparent that there was a network of government creeps keeping a watchful eye on outspoken citizens.  

  So, am I a target? Is there some kind of electrical device, a secret weapon that has been getting pointed at me? That's what it has felt like, though I considered other possibilities. Did these weird vibrations have anything to do with the wind farms that are south of the Farm? All of those giant wind generators, anchored deep into the ground, could they be the cause of all the disturbance I was feeling? Were these vibrations coming from those microwave cell phone towers that are east of here? I did not know.

  Many times when the vibes were extremely intense, I felt like I was definitely getting zapped by something. It was difficult to concentrate on working when everything was vibrating. My head and chest, especially, were just humming with these vibrations. Walking around on the farm, I asked, “How can other people not feel this?”

  I felt helpless to do anything about it. Where does a person go with such a complaint? There is no number to call, no complaint form to fill out, and no legal course of action to deal with a disturbing mystery such as this. Most people would never believe or understand any of it. So I lived with it for many years. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of nights, I slept through the constant droning, feeling like there was nothing I could do, and that it was beyond my control.

  In 2011, Jen was coming to visit me on the farm. I had told her about the weird vibrations. Then one night as we lay in bed, she suddenly said, “Hey… I think I feel that vibration you were talking about.” I asked, “Really? You feel that?” She answered, “Yeah... that's weird.” As we talked about it, I felt glad that she noticed it. Finally, someone else had acknowledged this strange vibration in my living space.

  It was depressing, having to endure whatever this was, especially after investing twenty years of my life into this homestead. I had grown fruit trees, blueberry bushes, and grapevines. I built elaborate structures to make everything around here run smoothly, yet many times I felt that I might have to abandon all of it, just to get away from the bad vibes.

  One of the wind farms is about sixteen miles south, sprawling around the town of King City and extending for miles in different directions. Some wind generators are close enough to see through my binoculars. Another wind farm is approximately ten miles to the southwest. Many of those enormous wind generators are out there turning their huge blades, surely causing vibrations in the ground. They are so tall that they must be anchored very deep under the surface. All of them have three spinning blades, and each blade was an entire load on a semi-trailer truck. They are massive. Many times I considered the possibility that they might be the source of the vibrations I had been feeling. I researched information about the wind farm around King City, learning that it first began its operations in the autumn of 2007. Interesting, I thought, because that was when I first started feeling the vibrations. I hoped that was the cause. It was less disturbing than the idea of getting zapped by an electronic weapon. For the next couple of years, I wanted to believe that the weird vibrations were a result of the local wind farms.

  But the theory of the wind farms being the cause was not making any sense. There were days when no wind was blowing, and I could look through my binoculars to see that the wind generator blades were not turning, yet the vibrations would be going strong. Other times, it was windy with the generator blades turning, though the vibrations were not occurring.

  On every occasion when I returned to the farm after being gone for weeks at a time, the vibrations were not happening. For several days after my return, I'd notice that calm stillness that was the norm during my first twelve years of living on the farm. I missed that calm, and I hoped it would stay. After a few days of being home, however, the vibrations would return. This has happened over and over again. I began to notice that the vibrations always seemed to appear within a day after I logged in to my email account or Facebook. Was this just a coincidence? Or was I alerting someone that I was home again, by logging in on a computer? I paid more attention to this, and I began to restrain myself from logging in too soon after returning home. Yet I'd still get on Herb's computer and look at some of the websites I usually visit. Then the vibes would start up again.

  I often talked to Herb about it, and he would suggest that maybe I was hearing the “humming” of the power lines that run along the road where I live. I told him, “I have heard the electrical humming sound you're talking about, and that is not the source of the vibrations. Those power lines were already there during the first twelve years that I lived here, and I never felt the weird vibrations until October of 2007.” As the years kept rolling by, I continued to have bad experiences with all of this, and I occasionally mentioned it to Herb. Over and over again, he would talk about the power lines, and I became more frustrated and annoyed by his continuing response:

  “Those power lines make a humming sound, sometimes.”

  “What I've been experiencing is a vibration, not a sound.”

  “Sound is vibration.”

  “I understand that, Herb. But not all vibration is sound, and these vibrations I'm talking about, I don't hear them with my ears, I feel them in my body.”

  Although I had explained to him on many occasions that what I am feeling is like a beam of energy going through me, vibrating every cell in my body, Herb never seemed to listen.

  There were few people that I ever mentioned it to because most people would not understand what I was talking about. Occasionally someone in Lawrence or Wichita would ask, “How are things at the farm?” Sometimes I mentioned the bad vibes, then I'd find myself going into a long explanation, detailing my experiences with it. Most people have no frame of reference to understand what I was describing to them, and most people appeared to be uninterested. So mostly, I kept it to myself.

  Many nights I could not sleep because the vibrations were too intense. I would drive down the gravel road to Herb's house, attempting to sleep on the extra bed. “Sorry to wake you, Herb. I'm getting zapped way too hard over there.” Yet even as I lay on the guest bed at Herb's house, I could feel the vibrations going through me, almost as strong as they were on the farm. At the farm, the disturbance seemed to be coming from the southeast. Whatever was going through me, it continuously felt like it was coming from the same direction. When I was at Herb's house, it still seemed to be coming from the southeast, although slightly more from the east. Herb lives about a mile and a half to the west of the farm. I began to wonder if the vibrations were coming from the town of Albany.

  Increasingly I became annoyed and enraged about the ongoing disturbance. Trying to work, clean, cook, or do anything was a struggle with the constant humming going through me. I was becoming more angry and irritable, saying, “God damn these fuckin' vibes! What the fuck? How can other people not feel this? This is fuckin' ridiculous! I can't stand this shit!”

  The only time I got some peace was when I left the farm and drove far away from it all. So I left many times, making my escape to Lawrence or Wichita. Sometimes I went to visit Melissa, up near Des Moines. I often told her about my struggles with the bad vibes. She was one of the few people who actually listened and really talked with me about it.

  In April of 2015 I was visiting Luke, down in Lawrence. He had a computer on in the kitchen as he was watching and listening to a broadcast of Democracy Now. It was Tuesday, the 21st of April. They reported on a story about a man named Pedro Albizu Campos, in Puerto Rico. During the 1950's, he was organizing protests against American sugar companies that were exploiting Puerto Rico's sugar cane fields and the people who worked in them. Campos was arrested and spent twenty-six years in prison. He wore wet towels around himself, claiming that he was trying to protect himself from radiation, because the United States Government was pointing an “atomic” weapon at him. He complained of severe headaches and burns all over his skin. Photographs revealed his wounds. Journalists who reported on this case appeared to be laughing at his claims about the U.S. Government. He was being presented as a crazy person who was merely delusional. After his release from prison, other inmates who occupied the same prison cell complained of severe headaches and of feeling like their skin was being burned. Campos continued to wear wet towels after his release from prison, claiming he was still being targeted at his home. After many decades passed, research into declassified documents revealed that the United States Government did, indeed, have a secret weapon that was being aimed at this man. They intended to discredit him by making him appear to be delusional and insane. This was in the 1950s. It is now admitted by the FBI that these things occurred. This was happening more than sixty years ago! It is no far stretch of the imagination to consider the possibility that some kinds of secret electronic weapons are still in use, and with a far greater degree of technology involved.

  As I mentioned earlier, I had spent many years on social media, posting documentary films and articles that expose corruption in the government. First, it was on Myspace, and eventually I was posting things on Facebook. I began to receive the occasional “Log-in alert,” informing me that someone near Richardson, Texas had logged into my Facebook account. So I changed my password. But after a while, I'd receive another alert that someone had logged into my account, again from Richardson, Texas. It happened nearly a dozen times. I also received alerts that my account was logged into from Jefferson City, Missouri, on two occasions. I became annoyed by this, and I began to deactivate my account for weeks or months at a time. Many times I returned to the farm after being gone for a week or more, and I always noticed that the vibrations were not happening. For several days I'd be grateful for the calm serenity. Yet again, when I logged into my email or Facebook account on a computer at Herb's house, the vibrations would start up again. It always happened within a day of logging onto a computer. This fueled my suspicion that I was being targeted and assaulted.

  Frequent headaches tormented me, and I felt that the vibrations were the cause. Also, my guts were churning all the time. Getting the runny shits, I was having to go to the outhouse several times a day. I often said to myself, “They are zapping the shit out of me.” Continuing to work on the farm, I tried to ignore the vibrations. What else could I do? I could leave the farm, as I had done many times before, running and hiding from whatever the disturbance was.    

  Occasionally I would talk about my ongoing problem at the farm, though I only talked about it with people I trusted. Melissa had emailed me some information about wind-farm vibrations. I read of people's complaints, and some of their descriptions of the vibrations were similar to what I had been experiencing. One person described it as “a loud noise that you feel inside your body.” Others complained of headaches and of having trouble sleeping at night. But all the people I read about were those who lived within a mile of wind generators. I was at least ten miles away from the nearest wind farm, though some of the wind towers seem to be closer than that. Could I really be feeling wind generator vibrations from several miles away? Melissa told me that only a small percentage of the population can feel low-frequency vibrations. Again, I tried to believe that the wind farms were the cause of my misery.  

  However, there were many times when I conducted a little experiment while I was getting zapped. I would be standing in any random location on the farm, feeling the vibration going through me. Then I'd quickly run to another random spot, twenty or thirty yards away, and stop. For about two seconds I felt the calm, then the vibes would be going through me again. It was like something was following me, and it took a couple of seconds for it to catch up with me. I did this experiment many times, and I always got the same results.

  In late August of 2015, I escaped to Lawrence to spend my birthday with some friends, and to get away from the bad vibes. One afternoon I went to the library and logged onto my email account. In an email to a friend, I wrote that I would be at the Replay Lounge on Sunday evening, to hear Truckstop Honeymoon play their music on the patio. It would be on the 30th of August. I also re-activated my Facebook account so I could get in touch with a few people. I wrote in a “private” message to someone on Facebook, that I would be at the Replay on Sunday evening. When Sunday arrived, I made my way to the Replay and went in. It was still early, so I decided to go visit Luke, then come back. When I returned, a bigger crowd had gathered as the band was getting ready to play. I went to the front of the crowd. Then I noticed a woman holding a camera with a huge lens attached to it. She was standing near the south side of the stage. Every time she held up the camera, she pointed it directly at my face. I thought that was strange. She was only about ten or fifteen feet away from me, with this gigantic lens. Continuously I watched her, and she never aimed that camera at anyone in the band, nor anyone else in the crowd. Not even once. Every time she held up the camera, she was pointing it directly at my face. I pondered over the many times I had been followed and photographed by creepy people. I also thought about the fact that I had told people, through email and Facebook, that I would be at the Replay Lounge that evening. Then there was this strange woman with the gigantic lens. She gave me the same weird feeling I have always felt whenever I noticed some creeps following or photographing me. She wore a T-shirt which said, “REBEL” in big letters across the front. It looked to me like it was meant to be a part of her fake outfit, in her fed-like attempt to fit in with the Replay crowd. She took multiple pictures of my face, then she left. I wanted to confront her but then I decided to just let it go.

  I returned to the farm. For several weeks I wondered why on earth anyone would need a telephoto lens to take pictures of me from a mere twelve-to-fifteen feet away. Then one day, it all became clear to me. Someone mentioned retina scans and the idea of the government collecting peoples' retina images. Retina patterns are like fingerprints, unique to each individual. I said, “Fuck! That makes a lot of sense. Now they probably have my retina images in some kind of weird data base.”

  It angers me when I think of all of the evil things our government is doing. Yet I often find a certain comfort in knowing that someday we will all be gone. Everyone must die, including all of those government pawns who are doing evil deeds. I wonder how they live with themselves. I wonder how they sleep at night. They seem to have no conscience.

  One evening the vibes were too intense and I had to get away. It was Saturday night, the 26th of September, in 2015. I began to load some things into the van, like my sleeping bag, pillow, drinking water, some bread, and a toothbrush. I drove west and then turned north on another gravel road. I stopped several times along the way, shutting off the engine to decipher whether I was still feeling the vibes. Every time I stopped, the vibes were clearly apparent. When I got to the blacktop road, I turned left and drove west, then I turned right onto another gravel road. I drove up to Poff's pond, several miles from where I live. After parking the van, I was still feeling the vibration. Again, it felt like it was coming from the southeast. Exhausted, I laid down in my sleeping bag and slept through the bad vibrations.

  When daylight arrived, the vibration was still going through me as I went outside to pee in the grass. It was Sunday morning. I got back in the van and drove north on the gravel road to Alan's house, and I parked in his driveway. When I turned off the engine, the vibes were still obvious. I wanted to ask Alan or Trish if they could feel the vibrations that were so apparent to me. As I walked around in the front yard, no one in the house appeared to be awake yet, and I didn't want to bother them. So I got in the van and drove back down the gravel road toward the highway. A car showed up behind me, and the driver seemed to be in a hurry to get around me. As we approached the highway, I pulled over to let that car pass me. Then I shut off the van to determine if the vibes were still happening. They were not. It was the first time in a while that I felt the calm stillness. Half-joking, I said, “Maybe the vibes followed that other car.” I felt relieved to have a few hours of peace before the bad vibes returned in the evening.

  The next day was Monday, the 28th of September. I was working on the second floor of the water-house structure, and the vibes were going strong. Suddenly, the vibrations abruptly stopped. It went from very strong vibrations to completely calm. In that precise moment, hundreds of birds launched themselves up from the nearby trees, just to the east. It was as though they were reacting to the sudden change. The timing was exact, as the vibrations quit and the hundreds of birds went up and out, over the Little Farm pond. They circled around, then settled back into the same trees they had been perched in. I climbed down the ladder and went inside the bus to write about the occurrence in a notebook. This was the first of many entries I began to make as I started keeping a journal of my experiences with the vibrations. While I was writing in my notebook, Herb and Frank rolled up in the north driveway. (I had been using Frank's generator to run some power tools, but it had stopped working, so Frank came over to help me get it running again.) I stepped out onto the porch and started telling Frank what had happened with the birds.

  As we worked on the generator, Frank and I talked about the vibrations. Frank was the only person who had any idea of what I was dealing with, as he claimed to have had a similar experience for about two years. He said, “It felt like I was getting hit with a microwave beam or something.” I replied, “That's what it feels like to me, too.”

  Herb stayed out of the conversation, though he attempted to change the subject a few times. Frank and I continued to talk about the vibrations. Then Herb mentioned the sand plant, four miles to the south, as a possible cause of the vibrations. I reminded him that the sand plant was already in operation for the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, and that the vibrations were not happening during those years. Then he said, “Maybe they got some new equipment.”

  I was growing irritated with Herb's continuing denial of what I was experiencing. He frequently mentioned the power lines, and now it was the sand plant. On many occasions I had described to him, in great detail, all of the things I had been experiencing with the bad vibes. He apparently never listened. If he had been listening and really trying to understand, then he would not keep suggesting ridiculous theories about the probable cause. It became apparent that the thought of anything intentional or sinister was too much for his rational mind to handle, so he would mention the power lines, again and again. It was like he thought my experiences were merely my imagination, and that was beginning to annoy me. It is not, nor was it ever my imagination. I am a rational person who had been trying to understand what these vibrations were, and where they were coming from. I did not want to believe that I was being targeted, yet the notion of electronic weapons became a more rational explanation than any other theories put forth by anyone.

  That same night of September 28th, the vibes came on very strong. I was trying to sleep but I couldn't stand the way I was getting zapped. I wrote in my Journal: Vibe came back strong after 10pm. I am leaving to sleep somewhere else. Maybe in van at Poff's pond.

  Into the van, I loaded my sleeping bag, five gallon water jug, guitar, notebook, toothbrush and toothpaste. I drove down to the Grove and parked in front of Herb's house. The vibes were still going strong. I got back in the van and drove a few miles up to Poff's Pond. When I shut off the van, I could feel the vibes just as much. So I drove back to Herb's house, then back to the farm. More bad vibrations. I was getting extremely irritated with all of this, feeling more and more like I was being assaulted by something, but not knowing what to do.

  Loading a few more things into the van, I decided that I would go all the way up to Frank's house. He was up near Denver, Missouri, more than twenty miles away from the farm. I thought that surely I could find some peace if I drove that far away. Stopping in the town of Gentry, I turned off the van. The vibes were still zapping me. So I drove north on 169, then a gravel road to the east. When I was nearing the corporate hog farm on highway M, I stopped again, shutting off the van to see if the vibes were still happening. They were. Then I drove the rest of the way to Denver, pulled up in Frank's driveway, and parked. When I turned off the engine, I felt the vibes. I was still getting zapped. Laying my forehead on the steering wheel, I felt like crying.

  Frank came outside, saying, “Hey Joe, I was just thinking about you. They're talking about microwave weapons on the radio.” It was about one-thirty in the morning, and Frank had been listening to Coast to Coast, a.m. I got out of the van and told Frank that I was getting zapped hard, and that the vibes were following me.   “I stopped in Gentry, and the vibes were still happening. Then I stopped near the hog farm. The vibes were still going.”

  “Are you feeling it here?”

  “Yes. I could feel it in your driveway as soon as I shut off the van.”

  We went into the house. A woman's voice came through the radio, talking about secret weapons in use by the military. Her name is Annie Jacobsen, and she is the author of such books as The Pentagon's Brain and Operation Paperclip. As Frank and I listened, several people called in to the program, asking about the microwave weapons, so she would then return to that subject.

  When the commercials came on the radio, Frank turned it down and we talked. I told him, “These vibes are weighing heavy on me. I don't know what to do.” Frank said that the woman on the radio had been describing these microwave weapons as the most accurate weapons in use by the Pentagon, and that they can target and track individual people. He told me how they can look through walls with their infra-red technology, and read people's “heat signature.” I asked, “Heat signature?” Frank said, “Everyone emits a unique pattern of body heat, and certain people can be identified by these patterns.”

  Suddenly a few pieces of the puzzle were connecting together in my mind. If I was being targeted, tracked, and followed, then it would make sense that the vibe was still with me as I drove around to all of those different places. If there was some kind of an energy beam or microwave beam being directed specifically at me, then maybe that's why I was feeling it when no one else around me could feel it. And I thought about Jen visiting me, back in 2011. The night she said she felt the vibration, we were lying in bed with our arms and legs wrapped around each other. We were physically as close as two people can possibly be. Perhaps she was feeling some of the vibe that I was getting zapped with.

  As I contemplated these realizations, Frank wondered if he could feel the vibes while standing near me. But he kept saying, “I'm not getting anything.” He spoke of the two years when he felt like he was getting assaulted by something. “I thought it was my neighbor for a while,” Frank said. “I thought he had a microwave dish pointed at me or something.” Frank mentioned that when he was in the navy, he knew of some guys on the ship who would point a microwave communications dish at an unsuspecting sailor and start zapping him. Frank said they did this for fun, pointing the dish at someone they didn't like, then they'd laugh as they watched the guy's reaction. So Frank thought his neighbor had been doing something similar to him. He said that over time, however, he began to suspect that this was some kind of secret weapon being used by the government.

  I told Frank that everything in my life was in question.

  “All these years I have invested my time, energy, and money into my homestead at the Little Farm. I've planted fruit trees and built so many things, and I keep feeling like I'm going to have to abandon it all. Every day I am toiling away, trying to get a roof over the big structure I'm building. But lately I've been wondering, What's the point? What is the point in continuing with any of that stuff if I'm going to keep getting zapped all the time? I can't take this shit anymore.” Breaking down with tears in my eyes, I started crying. I continued talking through my tears, about what I would do. “Maybe I need to disappear from the farm and just roam around the country with a backpack. Maybe I'll go south every winter. I don't know what else to do. I'm not gonna stay at the farm and just keep getting zapped.”

  Frank was trying to figure out a way to ease my sorrow.

  “Joe, do you want me to make you a foil hat?”

  “A what?”

  “Aluminum deflects microwaves. That's why some people wear hats made of aluminum foil.”    I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Sure,” I said, “Why not? I'll try anything.”

  So Frank went into the kitchen and promptly fashioned a foil hat for me. He put it on my head, then I pulled it on for a tighter fit. Frank asked, “Is it working? Do you feel any difference?”

  “I don't know. I'm tired, I wanna crash.”

  “You can sleep in the bedroom. I'm gonna lay on the couch.”

  As I went to lie on the bed, with the vibrations still going through me, I muttered to myself, “There is no way in the world that these weird vibes have anything to do with those wind farms. Fuckin' wind farms couldn't follow me another twenty miles away.”

  When I woke up, it was daylight. I was still feeling the vibes. After I went to pee, I picked up Frank's phone to call Herb. He answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Herb, it's Joe.”

  “Hey, where you at?”

  “I'm up at Frank's. The vibes were following me around last night. I was still getting it in Gentry. Also near the hog farms, and all the way up here in Denver. Those wind farms couldn't possibly have anything to do with this. Wind farms couldn't follow me to Denver. And there was a lady on the radio last night, talking about microwave weapons and other energy weapons that are used by the Pentagon. I am now convinced that I've been getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon.” Herb was saying, “Uh huh, Uh huh...” I could hear the doubt in his voice.

  I drove back to Herb's house, and immediately I felt the vibes. When I got back over to the farm, the vibes were still going. I thought of what Frank had said about aluminum deflecting microwaves, so I went into the aluminum Airstream Trailer to see if I could feel a difference. There were several windows, and I could still feel the vibes near them. Then I found a spot toward the back end of the trailer and I squatted down to the floor. The vibes appeared to diminish. I went back into the bus and wrote my findings in the journal.

  The next day was Wednesday, the 30th of September. I continued writing in my journal: Surprisingly calm today. Have not noticed vibe so far. 2 pm. Wind is from the north and cool today. Highs in the 60's. 4:42pm – Started feeling subtle waves over the past hour. Almost imperceptible.

  1:23 am, October 1st – Feeling vibes in waves. Mild, so far...

  7:56 am – Woke up to the vibes a while ago. Got the wood stove going and went to the shitter. Not noticing the vibe now, because of the sound of the wood stove burning. 10:15 am – Vibes became apparent again, and I went to see if Airstream aluminum made any difference. It most certainly seemed to diminish the vibe. When I was close to the windows, I could feel it more, but when I hid behind the walls blocking the vibes, as I perceive them to be coming from the southeast, it seemed that the aluminum wall diminished the vibe. Feeling the vibe now in the bus. Going to check Airstream again.

  When I returned, I wrote: I'm almost convinced that there is some kind of microwave beam being directed at me from the southeast. Today is my 20th anniversary of moving to the Little Farm. 12:37 pm – Barely feeling vibes now. Almost not there. 12:40 pm WTF! Just felt vibes way stronger. 12:44pm – full on, right near the wood stove. 1:05 pm – Vibes still on.

  Then I wrote: 4:25 pm – About a minute or two ago, a big military-looking aircraft flew over the farm, coming from the east and then turning toward the southwest, just as they were directly over the farm. It was a big, gray aircraft. No markings. The center portion was fat, like a cargo plane, but different. I waved at them as they flew over.

  Every day, I continued to make these kinds of journal entries. October 4th, 7:17 am – Vibe was going strong all night and continues right now. Feels like I am getting zapped, big time. I tried to go to bed last night and vibes were going and I got up and started putting aluminum foil on the walls. Vibes only seemed to increase, like someone was turning up the dial. 8:55 am – Vibe steady and strong and completely obvious. I am taking down the vertical strips I put up last night and putting them horizontally across front wall. Not sure if I will cover front windshield. Could be dark, but better than getting zapped. 12:28 pm – Constant vibration, buzzing in my skull and driving me crazy. Been putting up foil all morning. Just went out to the firewood area and can feel the vibe buzzing my head so much.

  I went over to the Grove and called Melissa on the phone. I told her that the vibes were severely stressing me out. She suggested that we both go somewhere to get away from it. I agreed. I was anxious to get away. Melissa drove down from Iowa and we slept in the bus.

  The next morning I wrote: October 5th, Monday. I wasn't feeling the vibe last night, but upon waking, I did. It has been going all morning. I asked Melissa several times if she feels it, and she says no.

  I started packing Melissa's car for our trip and was feeling frantic about wanting to get away. We had decided to go camping in the Ozark Mountains of Northern Arkansas. When we finally left, I felt a bit of relief with the vibes gradually fading away. As we drove south, I watched the odometer to see how far it was to the wind farm – about sixteen miles. Although we were passing through the middle of the wind farm, the bad vibrations were gone.

  Melissa did most of the driving, and when we got to Fayetteville, we contacted Anna and Joel. They had been staying in a house with their friends, on a beautiful piece of land that was south of town. They fed us some delicious food, and after eating, we all sat on the grass and we talked.

  I told them of my ongoing disturbances with the bad vibrations at the farm, and how I felt like I was being targeted and assaulted by some kind of electronic weapon. I gave them many of the details I have written in this chapter. Joel was sitting to my right, and after some thought, he turned to me and said, “Yeah… I think it's possible they might be fucking with you.” I appreciated Joel's response. Most people wouldn't believe any of it. Anna gave Melissa a few recommendations for places to go camping, then we all said goodbye.

  Melissa drove east as we went to camp in the Steele Creek area. After two nights, Melissa and I returned to that same house, south of Fayetteville. Though all of the residents were gone for the night, Anna had told Melissa that we were welcome to stay there. We slept on the porch, and in the morning we drove to Eureka Springs.

   Anna and Joel were playing music at the Stone House Winery. I sat on the patio with Melissa, drinking beer and laughing at all of the funny things Joel and Anna were saying between songs. They were hilarious, and the music was great. We slept at the home of Anna's god parents, and in the morning we began the long drive back to Northern Missouri. I was feeling much better. We returned to the farm on the evening of Sunday, October 11th. Everything felt calm. No vibrations were apparent, and I didn't want to think about it. We drank a few beers and we smoked some ganja. We talked and laughed while I cooked up some good food. I slept well and felt content.

  The next morning, Melissa and I had a stupid argument over nothing. Feeling angry and annoyed, I wanted her to leave, so she did. As I was shaking off my anger about Melissa, I wondered if the bad vibes would return. Just as they had for the past eight years, the bad vibes returned within a few days after I came home to the farm.

  On Sunday, October 18th, I was working on the water house. The vibe had been going all morning, and it was feeling more intense than usual. I tried to ignore it but it was just too much. As I held a long two-by-four, preparing to carry it up the ladder, I was feeling way too much of the weird energy beam going through me. Stopping in my tracks, I threw the board to the ground and said, “I can't do this anymore.” In that moment, there was a realization that I could no longer live on the farm. I had to get away from the vibe, and I began to think of the steps I would have to take before I could leave. I was about to start packing things into the van, then I remembered all of the aloe vera plants that needed to be brought over to Herb's house for the winter. While loading aloe plants into the van, I was coming to grips with the realization that my time at the farm could be at an end. I thought of all the years I had toiled and struggled to make this homestead happen, and now I might have to abandon it all. Suddenly I was crying. A deep sorrow washed over me as I gathered all of the potted aloe plants.

  With tears running down my face, I drove to the Grove. As I rolled up near Herb's house, I saw that Chaz and Al were there. Chaz was helping Herb work on one of his tractors. I pulled over on the left side of the road and got out of the van. Opening the back hatch, I asked, “Who wants an aloe vera plant?” Al walked over and said, “I'd be interested.”

  “Go ahead and pick one or a few of them.”

  “How about the two big ones?”

  “Well...  How about one of the big ones, and one or two of the smaller ones?”

  He took two plants and I closed the hatch.

  When Herb walked over to me, I began telling him that I had to get away from the farm. I was crying again as I tried to speak:

  “I've been getting zapped over there for way too many years, and I can't take it anymore. I have to leave. I can't live around here anymore. All these years, I've been working so hard to make things happen, and I just feel like I have to walk away from it all. I mean… What's the point? What is the point of trying to continue with anything over there if I'm just gonna keep getting zapped all the time?”

  Chaz and Al were only a few yards away, and I'm sure they were hearing everything I was saying. I didn't care what they heard or what they thought. I was telling Herb that I had to leave.

  Herb said, “Come here and listen to this over here,” as he coaxed me over to one of the power line poles across the road. Herb started telling me how it was making so much noise in the morning. But as we stood there, it was totally silent. Herb continued, “Boy, it was sure making a loud hum this morning.” Tears were still dripping down my face as Herb again tried to convince me that the power lines had something to do with my misery. Standing underneath the silent power line, I was still feeling the bad vibrations going through me. I didn't mention that to Herb. It was pointless. I walked back across the road, up the porch steps and into the house.

   I picked up the phone to call my sister. After dialing Anne's number, I got her answering machine, so I left a message. Then I called my other sister. Liz answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Liz.”

  “Joe, what's wrong?”

  “Well, my goodness. How did you know?”

  “You sound really sad, I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I am really sad. I'm sad that I can't live at the Little Farm anymore.”

  I broke down into tears again.

  Liz asked, “Why? Did someone tell you that you couldn't live there anymore?”

  “No, it's nothing like that. Herb likes me, and I am totally welcome to stay on the farm. It's just that…” I tried to formulate my words before I unloaded the entire story onto Liz.

  “For the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, there was a calm and a stillness that disappeared in 2007. It all started one night in October of 2007. This weird vibration came along and woke me up in the middle of the night. I could feel it going all through my body. It's like a really low, humming sort of vibration, and it just goes through the walls, and it goes through everything. It has stayed around for all of these years and it's been irritating me ever since.”

  “Did you ever find out what it was… or what it is?”

  “For a lot of years I wondered if it was related to the wind farms, but I eventually concluded that it wasn't. I also thought it might have something to do with the microwave cell phone towers to the east. I've often thought that it was some kind of electronic weapon that was being pointed at me. That's what it has always felt like. It's like a beam of weird energy being directed at me. It's almost like a mild, electric shock, but different... like there are billions of electrons vibrating through me.”

  I told her of the years I had been trying to raise awareness about corruption in the government.

  “I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The government did nine-eleven.' I spent years posting about it on Myspace and on Facebook. I protested at the Pentagon. There were often strange people who took pictures of me. Basically, I made myself into a target. Most of those things were happening in 2006 and 2007, in the years leading up to my first encounters with the bad vibrations. The government is messing with me. They have been messing with me for a long time. Whatever has been happening, it causes me frequent headaches. I can feel it messing with my intestines and giving me the runny shits.”

  I continued to cry and talk as Liz patiently listened.

  “All those years I was posting controversial information on social media and carrying signs... I don't know if I made any difference, as far as raising awareness. I don't know if I made any positive changes in the world, but I do know that I drew attention to myself, and I became a target. But there are a lot of people out there who are raising awareness and exposing government corruption. Are they all being targeted? Are they all getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon? I wonder about the Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth, and people like Richard Gage or David Ray Griffin. Are they getting zapped?”

  I went on about the evils of government, of continuous war for profit and control. I spoke of all of the false flag events that continue to happen around the world, and how it is our tax dollars paying for it all. “These people in shady positions in government, doing all of these horrible things – they're evil!” Liz agreed with me, that there is much evil hiding behind the walls of government. A loud “click” sound came over the phone. I asked, “Did you hear that? That click sound?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I always assumed that they read our emails and listened to phone conversations, long before Edward Snowden told us that they do those things. But with today's technology, I don't know why we would even hear any 'click' sound for someone to be listening to, or recording our conversation. And if they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything! I'm not breaking any laws or hurting anyone. I'm just trying to grow some fruit trees and build a homestead. I wish they would leave me alone!”

  As I finished saying that, I was crying again. Liz offered me her sympathy.

  “It sounds horrible, Joe, what you are going through. I'm going to pray for you, and I'll have all of my kids pray for you, too.”

  “Thanks, Liz. You know I'm not religious, but I do believe in the power of prayer. And you have so many kids, too. So that's some powerful energy.”

  I felt much better after talking with Liz. It was good to tell someone my story, and to not feel like I was being judged or ridiculed. Liz listened and she gave me some feedback without doubting my story or my experience of it all.

  When I returned to the farm, everything felt calm as I slept through the night. When I woke up, it was still calm. Several days passed with no bad vibrations happening. I continued to make an occasional journal entry, though there was nothing to report. Everything stayed calm. I was relieved. I felt that my conversation with Liz had an impact. Perhaps the prayers of Liz and her children had something to do with the relief I was feeling. Beyond that, I felt that who ever was listening to our phone conversation, they must have really heard me, especially the part when I said, “If they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything!” I thought that perhaps someone who had the authority to make a certain decision may have given an order to stop attacking me with whatever kind of electronic weapon I was being assaulted with.

  The days of calm turned into weeks of calm, and I was beginning to feel that my troubles with the bad vibrations were over. Every once in a while, I felt a slight vibration of something, though it was nothing like the ongoing assault I had become so familiar with. After the many years of paying close attention, “listening” for the vibrations, I had become much more aware of my own inner vibrations. I could feel my heartbeat and my pulse with much more clarity than I ever had in the past. There were times when I thought I was feeling a bit of the vibe, but upon further “listening,” I'd realize that I was actually feeling my own pulse and the gush of blood that flows with every beat of my heart. I quickly deciphered the difference, as there was really no comparison. The vibe that had been tormenting me for all of those years was much more pronounced, very strong, and extremely disturbing. There was no denying the existence of the vibe when it was full-on.

  Whatever vibrations I encountered during this time of calm, they were minuscule in comparison to the previous conditions. Sometimes it was merely the vibration of a truck driving by, half a mile away. If you pay attention to these things, you will notice the subtle vibrations that often occur all around you.

  Things continued to remain mostly calm around my place, but then one morning, I woke up to the vibes again. I began to feel a sense of panic, feeling that this was going to continue ruining my life. I wrote in my journal: Sunday, November 15th – THE VIBE IS BACK. I felt it hours ago while sleeping. Woke up to it. Very subtle, mild. But most definitely going.

  Down in the Grove, I phoned Liz, telling her, “For about four weeks, I didn't feel much of anything until today. When I woke up this morning, the vibe was happening again.”

  Liz told me that she had forgotten to keep praying for me. Again, she said that she and her kids would pray for me. I hung up the phone and wondered if I could feel the vibe. I wasn't feeling it in Herb's house. When I went back over to the farm, it was calm again. No vibrations. I breathed a sigh of relief, telling myself to focus on the calm and serenity. I didn't want to give any thought to the bad vibes. Over the next several days, I enjoyed the relaxing feeling of the calm stillness.

  I thought about the creepy government people who read our emails, and I decided to send them a message, so I sent an email to myself:

 To whom it may concern:

 Dear Feds, please stop zapping me with whatever you have been zapping me with. I am not doing anything wrong, I am not breaking any laws,* and I am no longer trying to inform people about government corruption. All I want to do is grow my fruit trees and build my farm structures. Please stop with the electronic harassment and assault. It has been eight long years that I have endured the wrath of your secret electronic weapons, and I am wishing, hoping, and praying that you will end all of that and leave me alone. Don't you have bigger fish to fry? I am just a simple farmer and occasional musician. Please let me be.

Thank you for reading my emails.

    (*Actually though, I do break some laws. I smoke cannabis and occasionally ingest hallucinogenic mushrooms. I have also experimented with other controlled substances. At times I have been guilty of jaywalking or running past stop signs on my bicycle. That's it. That is the full extent of my illegal activity.)

  For the past few years, I had been losing vision in my right eye. In January of 2015, I looked closely in the mirror, with a flashlight shining into my eye. What I saw frightened me. It was cloudy and milky-looking in my pupil. I looked at pictures of cataracts on the internet, and they looked like what I had seen in my eye. At Stan and Cathy's house, I mentioned that I might have cataracts. Cathy asked, “Aren't you too young to be getting cataracts?” I replied, “I'm too young for a lot of things.”

  Soon after that, I scheduled an appointment with an eye doctor in Lawrence. After running some tests and looking into my eyes, the doctor told me what I had already suspected; I had cataracts. He told me that cataract surgery was the only solution, and he referred me to a group of eye surgeons. I asked him about the procedure. He explained that they remove the natural lens and replace it with an artificial lens. I did not like the sound of that. Not wanting to remove my natural lens, I looked for alternatives on the internet.

  During Thanksgiving, I visited with Melissa's family up near Des Moines. I told Melissa about the cataracts, saying, “I don't want to do the surgery, but eventually I won't be able to read or write. It compels me to get more serious about finishing my book.”

  Melissa was sympathetic about my cataracts. After returning home, I received an email from her, saying, “I've read that a leaking microwave oven can cause cataracts. There are detectors you can get to check for microwaves, but I would check into their sensitivity levels before buying one.” I pondered over those words. I never go anywhere near microwave ovens. I don't like them. I avoid cell phones because of the microwaves. Melissa knew about my problems with the bad vibrations, and I had mentioned the idea of microwave weapons to her. Now she was sharing this information about microwave radiation causing cataracts. As I read her email, I said, “Well, great. If it was a microwave weapon being directed at me, it may have caused me to develop cataracts at an early age. Just wonderful.”   And I had thought of getting one of those detectors. It would certainly add a bit more credibility to my story if I could have given actual numeric readings from such a device. By this time, however, the bad vibrations had mostly ended, and I felt that buying one of those detectors would almost be like inviting the bad vibes to come back.   The farm had returned to the calm and serenity that I missed. I was feeling better again. I rolled in the grass, breathing deep and feeling thankful that everything had been calm for this much time, which was only a couple of weeks at that point. And yet I could still feel the aftermath of all the weird vibrations that had been imposed upon me. I couldn't quite explain it, but I felt much different than I had before. Thinking out loud, I said, “Who knows what they've done to me?” I steered my mind away from bad thoughts like cancer and all the other horrible things that could go wrong. I understand how powerful thoughts can be, especially when it comes to good or bad health.

  Over the years, increasingly I noticed that I was often feeling irritable. The slightest little annoyances could set me off into an angry rage. I was already a bit of a moody person at times, though I felt that all those years of getting zapped had changed me. I had less patience with people, and I knew that I couldn't really talk about my dilemma with others. They would laugh and ridicule me. They would call me crazy, delusional, and paranoid. That is what most people will do. They will judge you as being crazy or delusional, without considering the possibility that what you are telling them is the truth.

  For many months I had stayed away from Facebook, and I rarely logged into my email account. When the bad vibes had mostly stopped after October the 18th, I was still reluctant to log into those accounts, concerned that the bad vibes would return. As the weeks passed, though, I began to log in again. I felt like a frightened little animal, crawling out of a hole, wondering if it was safe to go out into the light. With the exception of November 15th, everything had remained relatively calm. I was looking at my news feed on Facebook, though I refused to post anything or participate in any online discussions. Then on the evening of Thursday, December third, I shared a video about Donald Trump. It was the first time I had posted anything in months. It wasn't even controversial, it was just funny. I wondered if posting something might cause “them” to start zapping me again. The next morning, I woke up to the vibe. It was going steady and strong. I decided to leave the farm, so I packed the van for a long drive to Arkansas.

  Joel and Anna were playing music in Eureka Springs, and I drove all the way down there to see them. I helped them load their equipment into and out of the Stone House Winery, and at the end of the evening, they offered me a place to sleep. On Saturday night they were playing music in Fayetteville. Again I helped them move their equipment, before and after the show. I slept in my van that night, and on Sunday morning I drove toward Lawrence.

  By Tuesday I was back on the Farm. Everything felt calm. I avoided logging onto a computer until Thursday evening. I was planning to leave again on Friday, December 11th. The farm remained calm through the night and into the morning. When daylight arrived, I packed my things into the van and drove to Lawrence. Then I made my way through Wichita and to Hutchinson, where I continued to write about all of this.

  It is bad enough having endured the torment of getting zapped for all of those years. Adding sorrow to all of this is the awareness that my closest friends don't believe me. I have told my story to people like Luke, Ian, and Anastasia. They all get a blank look on their faces, like they are having some cognitive dissonance, wondering if I am crazy. It is sad and annoying. Melissa is one of the few people who hasn't doubted my story – Melissa, Frank, and perhaps Joel and Jen. As I have persisted with my story though, it seems that a few people are beginning to believe me.

  After all the years I endured the bad vibrations at the farm, I had examined many different thoughts and ideas about what the disturbance might be. I was looking for the most logical answer to the question: What is the cause of the bad vibrations? The notion of electronic weapons being the cause makes more sense to me than anything else which has been suggested by anyone. It makes more sense than wind farms being the cause, or the power lines, or the sand plant. None of those things could track me around and keep zapping me all the way to Denver, Missouri. But modern electronic weapons certainly could. This is logic, plain and simple. From everything I have experienced, it is my absolute belief that some kind of electronic weapon was being aimed at me for all of those years. It had the ability to track and follow me around in Northwest Missouri. On the radio, Annie Jacobsen had spoken of these weapons. When reading her book, “Phenomena,” I found very little information on the subject. She only briefly mentioned electronic weapons. Perhaps I simply haven't found the right book. Regardless, it has been admitted by the FBI that they were using similar kinds of weapons against someone, as far back as the 1950's.   So why do people have that knee-jerk reaction of ridicule and doubt when I mention any of this to them? I suppose it is because they were conditioned to think that way. Some folks have proposed the idea that perhaps I was experiencing the effects of tinnitus, a condition in which a person hears a ringing sound when no external sound is present. For each person who has suggested this to me, my response has been the same: “It's interesting how that tinnitus disappears every time I drive far enough away from the farm.” Sometimes I wish that those people could get zapped for just ten or twenty minutes. Ordinarily I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, yet if people could experience just a few moments of what I had to endure for eight long years, then maybe they would understand.

  As these weeks roll past, I am grateful for the relative calm I have been feeling. Ever since that day when I cried while talking to my sister on the phone, the bad vibrations have almost completely disappeared. I went back to working on some of my projects, thinking that maybe I can continue living on the farm. An enormous sense of relief has been happening for me. At the same time, there is an ongoing feeling of apprehension that it could all happen again.

  Is it over?

  Will the bad vibrations stay away and let me live in peace?

  Will the calm and serenity remain?

  I hope so.

  That would have been a fine way to end this chapter. I wish it was the end. Eighteen months went by without any notice of the weird vibrations. I thought it was over. But in late May of 2017, the bad vibes returned. It was mild at first, almost imperceptible, then it became stronger. After more than a year of calm, I had begun to think it would be okay to go ahead and speak my mind by posting certain things on Facebook. There were some postings about government corruption and war crimes. Not long after sharing those posts, I started feeling the bad vibes again.

  On the night of May 30th, I was lying in bed when the vibrations became more intense. I got up and began to gather my things, unsure of where to go, only knowing that I had to leave. After driving over to Herb's house, I sat in the car and opened up my computer. I was thinking of driving all the way up to Frank's place, then I thought of the upstairs room above Herb and Larry. The stairs are on the outside, so I was able to go up there without bothering anyone. As I settled in the bed to sleep, I was not feeling the vibes. So I slept.

  In the morning I went downstairs to chat with Larry and Herb. I made no mention of the recent vibrations on the farm. Then Frank showed up at the door. As he stepped inside, he said, “Hi Joe. How's it been going?”

  “Not so great. I'll tell you later.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  “They're zapping me again.”

  “Oh, no. That sucks.”

  “Frank, you're the only person who understands what I'm talking about.”

  Herb went outside as Frank and I discussed the bad vibrations. Larry sat up on the bed, listening to us. Frank recalled his experience of getting zapped for two years. The vibrations stopped harassing him around the same time when they first started bothering me. Frank and I had come up with a theory that initially, the perpetrators thought Frank was me. We both have dark brown eyes, brown hair and a brown beard. We have a similar shape to our eyebrows. People often asked if we were brothers. So it seemed plausible that our identity had gotten mixed up by those who were assaulting us. I told Frank that I had no choice but to leave the farm and go somewhere.

  “First, I need to get that gutter put on the water house, to channel the rain away from the building. Then I have to get out of here. My sister has been inviting me to visit, so maybe I'll go there.” Holding up my laptop computer, I said, “I can keep working on the book, just about anywhere.”

  Back on the farm, I spent most of the day figuring out how I would put up the gutter. The bad vibrations bothered me for a while. By late afternoon, though, they had stopped. After many hours of calm, I thought I would be able to sleep in my own bed again. But as I laid down to sleep that night, the vibes came back, steady and strong. So I gathered a few things and went over to Herb's. In the upstairs, I still felt a vibration, though not as pronounced as it was at the farm. Sleeping through the vibrations, I woke up at sunrise.

  Downstairs, I drank coffee with Herb while I read my emails. Then I drove the dusty road back to the farm. As I started gathering some tools and gutter pieces, no vibrations were apparent. Again, I felt relieved to be working in the calm surroundings. It was Thursday, the first of June. Standing on the porch with the cat, I watched two hummingbirds hovering around their nectar feeder. Suddenly they both flew toward me, one of them flying just a couple of inches past the right side of my face as the other one flew by me at waist level. Laughing with amusement, I said, “That was cool! I love living here when I'm not getting zapped.”

  The disturbing vibrations returned in the afternoon. I did my best to ignore them and to focus on getting the gutter installed. By evening, the vibes had diminished. Several hours later, though, just as I was lying down to sleep, the vibes returned. It seemed like the culprits were intentionally waiting until I went to bed, then as soon as I laid down, they started zapping me. It was like they were experimenting with their sadistic torture device while observing my reactions. For the third night in a row, I got dressed and drove along the gravel road to sleep in the upstairs room of Herb's house. In the morning, I woke up and drove back to the farm.

  After the gutter was attached, I felt better about walking away from the water-house project and going somewhere to get away from the bad vibrations. A few trips away from the farm gave me some peace for a while. I visited my sister's home near Lincoln, then drove to Lawrence. At the end of June, I was swept away in a flood. Interesting as that was, it does not relate to this story.

  When the vibrations returned and increased with intensity, I found myself making journal entries again: July 8th, 2017. The vibe is becoming more pronounced today. For the last month, I haven't felt it much, and most times it is barely noticeable. But today I am feeling a humming in my head that is some of the strongest vibration I've felt since November of 2015.

Sunday, 9th of July – I woke up to the vibe this morning, and it feels more steady and strong than it did yesterday. The realization is upon me again, that I cannot stay here, and I have to begin packing my car for a trip to somewhere.

  Things were much easier when I still had the minivan. There was room to move around and space to sleep. Then the transmission was destroyed. With the little Honda I am now driving, there is no room for anything. I do not know where I will sleep.

  As I write these words, the vibrations are humming in my head and chest. I wonder what may have caused the return of this miserable condition, and the only thing that comes to mind is a recent phone conversation I had with Sherri. It was last Tuesday evening, on the Fourth of July. I had mentioned to her that I thought NPR was just as full of lies as the other mainstream media networks:

  “They've all been lying about nine-eleven for all these years, and that's the biggest lie I have heard being perpetuated in my entire life. If they're going to continue with a lie as huge as nine-eleven, what else are they lying about?”

  So again, I was running my mouth about the government's involvement in a false flag operation, and again, the bad vibes returned.

  With a few things packed into the Honda, I drove all the way up to Frank's house. When Frank came out to meet me in the yard, I said, “They're zapping me again. I can't stand to stay on the farm, so I need to crash here tonight.” We went inside and talked of the experiences we've both had with the vibrations. Everything felt calm at Frank's. There was no feeling of any weird vibes at all. I thought back to what I had been feeling just a few hours earlier at the farm, and it seemed surreal. The calm feeling remained at Frank's house as I fell asleep on the futon.

  In the morning I wanted to get back to the farm and prepare for a more extended trip. By afternoon I was rolling toward the homestead. As soon as I rolled into the north driveway of the Little Farm, the vibration was completely obvious. I made a list of things I would need and began to gather them. Then I drove down to the Grove to visit with Herb and Larry for a couple of hours. Returning to the farm, I was hoping the vibration might have diminished, and that maybe I could sleep in my own bed again. Yet when I returned, the vibration seemed to be coming on stronger, and I knew I couldn't stay there. So I gathered my things for another drive up to Frank's house, feeling frantic about trying to get away, with my head and chest vibrating the entire time. After a second night at Frank's house, I drove back to the farm, preparing for another trip southward.

  Although I've grown tired of writing this chapter, it is difficult to find a stopping point, as I am dealing with an ongoing chronicle of these disturbances. I got away to Lawrence. From there, I drove to the southwest corner of Missouri, then north and west to Wichita for two nights, then to Hutchinson. For three nights, I stayed at Ian and Anastasia's house, then drove back up to Lawrence. By Monday, July 24th, I had returned to Northwest Missouri.

  Everything was calm as I refrained from logging in on a computer. The next day, I logged into email and Facebook while I was at the Library in town. Also, I requested two books by Annie Jacobsen, through the inter-library loan. At the farm I had mild perceptions of some vibrations, but wasn't sure. It was vague. On Thursday, I logged in from Herb's house on an older computer. That night, the vibes came on strong, just as I was settling into bed. I got up, grabbed a few things and drove to Herb's. Stepping up the outside stairs, I went into the room. The vibes were still apparent up there and I couldn't sleep, so I went down to go into the downstairs part, but it was locked. Not wanting to wake Herb, I drove back to the farm. When I got back inside the bus, the vibes were still going steady. I wanted to leave but I was exhausted. It was around two o'clock in the morning when I succumbed, falling asleep with the vibes humming through my body. At daybreak I woke up to the vibes going through me like they hadn't stopped all night.

  Later that day, I drove back up to Frank's. We talked for a while, then I called Herb's house and left him a message. When Herb called back, he told me that he had experienced some strange vibrations during the previous night. That would have been Thursday night and Friday morning, the 27th and 28th of July. Herb said he woke up to a vibration and wondered why he was “hearing” something when he knew that the refrigerator wasn't running at the time, the air conditioner was not on, and the ceiling fan was off. In a way, I was glad that Herb was recognizing a vibration. I certainly don't want him getting zapped, but I've wanted him to understand that what I have been experiencing is real. I want everyone to understand that.

  Again I escaped from the farm, driving to Lawrence and visiting with friends.

  August 14th, 2017 – When I got back to the farm last night, everything felt much different than it ever has in the last twenty-one years. I did not feel good about being home. After all the years of being out here alone, the years of getting zapped, the ongoing apprehension about possibly getting zapped again, and events of the last eleven months which have left me severely angry at certain people, it is feeling more to me like this is no longer my home. It does not feel like my home anymore. The water house stands there, looking at me as if it is wondering when I will break out the tools and continue building on it. I look back to the water house and say, “My heart is not in it. I just don't care anymore.” All of that time and energy, the endless days of toiling away, it might have all been a complete waste of my time, energy, and money. My greatest and most ambitious projects in recent years have been the water house and the book. But the ongoing events of recent months continue to push me away from this place, and I keep returning to the conclusion that I need to buy a van and be prepared to live on the road. The only thing I have left is this book.

  Late August in Lawrence, I stayed at Stella's old house on Montana street during the time when she was moving to a rental property and putting her house up for sale. Many times I had noticed a weird vibration that seemed to be running through the east side of the house. This was the first time I felt any kind of strange electrical vibes in Lawrence. It should be noted that I had logged onto my computer, using Stella’s wifi connection. Perhaps this made my presence known, putting me on someone’s radar. After feeling bad vibes in the southeast bedroom, I moved my sleeping pad into the living room where no vibes were apparent.

  When I told Stella about the bad vibes in that southeast corner room, she said that her daughter did not like that room and would never go in there. Stella reacted strongly to what I was telling her, as it appeared to add some credence to whatever her daughter had been experiencing. Stella seemed to be pondering about a ghostly presence, while I was thinking of something electronic and man-made. I began to notice that the vibration was also apparent in the bathroom, the kitchen, and the laundry room. It was extending lengthwise, north and south, through the entire east side of the house.

  In late August, I bought another old Dodge van. Deciding to stay in Lawrence during the fall and winter, I made arrangements to move in with two friends, though I did not want to be on the lease. By early September, I had settled into a house near the campus of The University of Kansas. One of my early mistakes was logging in on my computer through the wifi in that house. Eventually, I learned about and purchased a VPN (Virtually Private Network) service which is meant to provide some privacy for my online activity, re-routing my connection through another server somewhere. But my attempts at hiding my location had failed, as I had already logged on without the protection of a VPN. I’ve had doubts about whether or not the VPN actually hides my location from the feds, anyway.

  Several times when I went to go walking or riding my bike, I noticed someone in an idle car, stopped in the middle of the street, just staring at me as I made my way from the house. Each time, it was a different person in a different car, not parking anywhere, just sitting idle in the street, staring at me. Every time it happened, I walked or biked directly toward the person, then he or she would drive away as I got closer. It seemed really strange. Not long after those encounters, a weird vibration started happening in my temporary new home. At first, I noticed it in the bathroom when I was standing in front of the toilet to pee. Then I was feeling it in the kitchen as well.

  Luke knew all about my struggle with the bad vibes, and when he came over to see the house, he asked, “Do you ever feel those vibrations when you're in Lawrence?”

  “In the last couple of months, I have. I was getting weird vibes at Stella's old house, all along the east side but not on the west side. And now in this house, I keep getting it in the bathroom and in the kitchen.”

  After Luke left, I wondered why I had not asked him to stand in the bathroom and tell me if he felt the vibrations. My two housemates knew nothing about my years of struggle with the bad vibes on the farm. Several times I had mentioned the weird vibrations in the bathroom and kitchen. When they gave no response, I said nothing more about it.

  During September and October, I became more convinced that I was being electronically harassed at the Lawrence home. Along with the vibrations going through my skull, there was often a feeling of tightness, almost a numbness in my throat area, like the glands were being assaulted. With the vibes penetrating through my chest, my heart often started racing at a much faster pace than usual. It would be normal if I was engaged in heavy exercise at the time, but it often happens when I am fully relaxed, or even when I'm lying down to sleep. There is no reason why my heart should start racing so fast when I am not moving at all. Actually though, there is a reason: electronic assault. One day I was describing the rapid heartbeat to Luke, then he asked, “Is there anything that would be causing you anxiety, to the point where your heart would speed up?”

  “Yes. Getting zapped by electronic weapons causes me anxiety. It causes anxiety when it's happening. And when it's not happening, the thought of it returning makes me apprehensive, too.”

  Once or twice a month, I made the drive up to the Little Farm. It was good to see Herb, Larry, and the dogs in the Grove. The cats, too, especially my cat on the farm. For several days I would hang out, in and around my home. Everything was calm. It seemed apparent that whoever had been assaulting me, they had found my location in Lawrence but were no longer aiming their devices at my home on the farm. When my life returns to that level of calm and serenity, it is the greatest relief I know.

  Back in Lawrence, however, the vibes were becoming more commonplace. At first, it was the steady vibe constantly running through the bathroom, and eventually through the kitchen, as though the perpetrators were uncertain about which room I was occupying. I imagined them projecting a steady vibration, perhaps while figuring out the lay of the house. That's how I thought of it, anyway.  

  As November came along, I started feeling the disturbance in the living room at times. I would abruptly get up and move to different parts of the house, trying to decipher whether the vibes were happening in those areas. One evening, Cory asked, “What are you doing, Joe?”

  “It's difficult to explain. You wouldn't understand.”

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I understand?”

  “Because nobody understands. It's something I've been dealing with for years. Most people don't believe me, anyway. I don't like to talk about it.”

  Cory's curiosity was growing, along with his confusion about my reluctance to speak about my situation. Then I told him, “I've written a fairly detailed chapter about it. It's the longest chapter in my book, and you can read all about it when I get the book published. Or if you want to read it on a computer sometime, maybe I can put it on a flash drive for you. But generally, I don't talk about it with people anymore.”

  “You could email it to me.”

  “No. I definitely don't want to do that. Other people could see it. The wrong people. Shit, they've probably already crept into my computer and got everything in there... any of those times I went online before I had a VPN, they could have done that. But you never know. Maybe they haven't seen that chapter. I'll put it on a flash drive sometime, and we can put it on your computer.” “Okay… well, I'd be interested to read it.”

  For about three months, I had not been feeling anything bothersome in my little room at the top of the stairs. I was able to sleep without much concern. By the end of November though, I was getting more disturbing vibes in my room. One morning, I frantically began to load the van with the things I would need to get away to somewhere, to anywhere. Before I left for another spontaneous escape, I put the majority of this chapter on a flash drive and told Cory, “I have to leave, but I want to put this on your computer before I go.” So we sat down with his laptop computer and made that happen.

  In December I began to document my frequent encounters with the house vibrations by making notes on the December page of a calendar, taped up on the inside of my room door: December 7, 8, 9 – zapped. Familiar pressure in my skull, tightness in my throat glands. Light but steady vibe going on. 10 – calm. Left for farm. Calm at farm. December 13 – returned and zapping started again. 14 – Zapped, heavily. Stopped around 10-11pm. December 15 – Left for Ozarks. December 17 – Returned to Lawrence – calm. After the word, “calm,” there is an arrow pointing through the remaining days of that week, indicating that the calmness had remained.

December 25 – vibes, 26 – vibes, 27 – calm again. At the top of the December calendar page, I began to write down the encounters occurring in January: Vibes on Jan. 5th, 6pm – Vibes.

  Then everything remained calm for twelve days until I got caught up in argument on Facebook. It was a discussion about the idea of mandatory vaccines. In the comments, I went on a rant about the toxic poisons in vaccines, and that mandating forced injections on people was another extension of fascism. Within hours of posting those comments, I was clearly feeling the bad vibrations again. I imagined there was a correlation between my speaking out, then getting assaulted.

  During the many years I was getting zapped on the farm, I often went searching online for some clues to the mystery I was experiencing. Yet for so many of those years, I never thought to do a simple search regarding electronic weapons. I was researching wind-farm vibrations, cell phone tower microwaves, “stray electricity,” and other things. When I finally searched for answers by typing “electronic weapons” in the search box, I was suddenly exposed to hundreds of links dealing with electronic assault, harassment, and torture. It was then I began to realize that there were many other people dealing with the same problems I had been going through. Some of these folks were labeled as “targeted individuals.” People's descriptions of experiences were similar to mine. For example, one thing that seems common among targeted individuals is the claim that the first episodes of electronic assault were very intense, as if to let the victim know with certainty that these attacks were coming from an outside source. Then the level of intensity is brought down to a small fraction of the original attack, though it keeps going for days, weeks, months, or years.

  This was precisely how it happened to me at the farm. That first night I was assaulted in October of 2007, it was extremely intense, then it seemed to gradually diminish in the days that followed, yet it was still going. After that first night of attacks on the farm, I did not think to write down the exact date. I only know that it was middle to late October, in 2007. Had I known what an ongoing ordeal was about to unfold for the next eight or ten years, I most certainly would have written down the date of that first experience.

  Some victims of electronic assault claim to have sensations of feeling like their skin is being burned. This is something I have not experienced. Not once, did I ever feel like my skin was burning. For me, it has been the intense vibrations going through my skull and chest. Many times, my heart was pounding so hard and fast, I felt that someone was trying to cause me to have a heart attack. When the glands in my jaw go numb, I feel like my lymphatic system is being assaulted.

  I understand that much of this chapter is speculation, as I have no way of proving any of this. I can only give my detailed and honest description of what I have experienced. It makes sense to me though, that the perpetrators have developed a method of attacking people in a way that the victims cannot prove. Additionally, it seems that the underlying goal is to discredit the victims by making them appear as delusional and insane. This is what the FBI did to Pedro Campos in the 1950s. While I still consider purchasing a microwave detector or radio frequency indicator, some of those devices cost several hundreds of dollars. With my limited budget, I am not anxious to spend that money.

  In September of 2017, I was introduced to a Missouri chapter of the Native American Church, down in the Ozarks of Southern Missouri. The location was beautiful and I liked most of the people I met. So I returned in October. (For now, I am bypassing the details of what those ceremonies were about, as they could become another entire chapter, separate from this one, and I am trying to stay on point here.) When I was on my way down there for the November ceremony, I stopped at Mama Jean's grocery store on Sunshine Street in Springfield. Using my computer with their wifi, my VPN service would not turn on without me logging in to the service's website. I had forgotten my password, though I knew I had emailed a clue about it to myself. But the only way to retrieve that password was to log in without the protection of the VPN. So I went ahead and logged in, opened up my email and got the password. Also, I replied to an email from my sister, telling her I was heading toward the Ozarks.

  Driving another twenty miles or so to my destination, I put some Rush tunes in the CD player and blasted the music for the last stretch of my trip. When I pulled onto the grassy parking area and turned off the van, I was immediately sensing weird vibrations. In an instant, I felt surprised and upset.

  “Are you kidding me?! Are they really fuckin’ with me... all the way down here in the Ozarks?!” Looking up, I noticed a power line connected to a transformer on the utility pole. I said, “Maybe that's what I'm feeling.” So I took a walk, perhaps a quarter of a mile or more to the south, yet the vibrations continued to follow me. Closing my eyes, I wondered what direction the assault was coming from. Suddenly my hands reached up to a certain location in the northern sky. I perceived the bad vibrations to be coming from that direction. In my mind, I was thinking of a satellite with electronic weapons. I went back to the van, opened the computer and attempted to write about the experience. The vibes increased, and I knew I was being assaulted. It was too obvious, as my skull and my chest were pulsating with vibrations.

  I frantically drove out of there, taking the winding mountain road all the way back to the nearest town, fourteen miles to the west. When I pulled over near the town square and turned off the engine, everything felt calm again. For several hours I walked around the little downtown area, thinking maybe I would sleep there in town, where the van was parked. By midnight though, I decided to drive all the way back to the Native American Church location. When I shut off the engine, everything felt calm. After sleeping in the van, I woke to join in the morning ceremony. For the rest of that Saturday and into the night, I could only feel the calm normality of nature all around me.

  On the 15th of December, I drove to the Ozarks again. My friend Michael rode down there with me. I slept in the van and woke to join in the morning ceremony. During the usual introductions, a woman named Audrey spoke of some papers she had written as part of a book she was working on. She was offering free copies to anyone interested, and asking for donations. She spoke of information she was trying to get out to people. Then she mentioned something about electronic weapons, and that caught my attention.

  Later in the day, people had gathered in a large circle and were “passing the feather.” It was actually not a feather that day, but a small maraca. Each person who held it would speak of their thoughts and feelings while everyone else listened. When someone handed the maraca to me, I stood up, not really knowing what I would say. Then the words just came pouring from my mouth: “Nice day today. Too bad about the chem-trails.” I pointed up to the haze in the western sky, noting that the day had started with a clear sky until we observed those planes spraying trails that do not fade, as normal vapor trails do. A few people in the circle said, “Aho.” (This, I am told, is a Native American expression which means something like, “Amen,” “Right on,” or, “I agree with you.”)

  Continuing, I said, “I hear a lot of people sharing experiences with all of these messages of positivity and hope. I don't want to bring anything negative into this circle, but I feel compelled to say some things that need to be addressed. There are a lot of bad things happening in the world… cops going around murdering people, government starting wars for profit... and it seems that in order to stop the bad things from happening, there needs to be awareness. I mean, how can we stop the bad things if people aren't even aware that those things are happening? This morning, someone mentioned something about electronic weapons.” A woman stood up, saying, “Yes, that was me.” It was Audrey. I looked at her and said, “I have been dealing with this for over ten years. You are not alone.” “Thank you,” she said, “Thank you,” seeming grateful that I was acknowledging the issue. And though I rarely ever mentioned this subject to any of my friends, there I was, telling my story to more than fifty strangers:    “It all started for me in October of 2007 and continued for many years. It's like getting hit with a beam of energy that vibrates through my head and my chest.” Audrey was still standing, nodding her head while saying, “Yes, yes...Yes.” I continued, “I live on a farm, way out in the country. For a long time, I tried to believe that I was dealing with vibrations from the wind farms that are south of my home. Those wind generators are huge, and they have to be anchored way deep into the ground, so I thought maybe that was the cause of the vibrations I was feeling. But over time, I realized that this was something deliberate. I've been writing a detailed chapter about all of this…” Looking to Audrey, I said, “I'm also writing a book.” She was still standing and facing me, while most people in the circle were sitting. I went on, saying,“The thing is, at some point I became a target. I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The Government did nine-eleven.' Actually, I don't know who did nine-eleven, but whoever it was, they had the full cooperation of the United States Government, at the highest levels.” Someone in the circle said, “Aho.” “Anyway,” I continued, “The point is that I drew too much attention to myself, and I became another one of their targets.”

  As I spoke, a younger, bearded guy walked around the outside of the circle and put a hand on my left shoulder, saying, “Sorry to interrupt.” Then, in a louder voice, he spoke to the crowd, saying, “This guy is telling the truth. I've been through some stuff, and there's a lot of things I want to say when the feather comes around to me.” I was slightly annoyed that he had interrupted me, yet I allowed him to continue, as he was giving some verbal backing to my claims about electronic weapons. When he let me resume speaking, I tried to pick up where I had left off, though I was somewhat thrown off from a few points I had wanted to make.

  “This has all been a living nightmare for me. I keep hoping and praying that they will leave me alone. They didn't bother me for a year and a half. But when I started posting things on Facebook again, stuff about government corruption and war crimes... Lo and behold, they started zapping me again. It’s like they’re trying to control my freedom of speech.” Audrey said, “Yes, yes...” The rest of the circle remained silent as they patiently listened to what I was saying. While I've forgotten much of what I said that day, I do recall that near the end of my monologue, with emphasis, I said, “This stuff is real. It's electronic assault and harassment. It's electronic torture.” Several people said, “Aho.” I passed the maraca on to the next person to my left, and the speeches returned to less intense subjects.   With the passing hours, the evening had darkened as many of us gathered around the bonfire. Suddenly a woman walked over to me and said, “It is real. I had to move my entire office. My family has seen what this has all been doing to me.” For a few seconds I had mistaken her for Audrey, the woman who mentioned electronic weapons that morning. Then I realized that this was someone else talking to me. We spoke briefly about our experiences with electronic harassment. I did not get her name before she walked away. In the next moment I made a mental note about being surrounded by approximately fifty people, and of that fifty people, three or four of us were claiming to have been assaulted by electronic weapons.

  A while later I saw Audrey on the opposite side of the fire, and I stepped over to speak with her. With her right hand, she made a gesture near the left side of her head as she said, “I'm getting it right now. They're hitting me with it.” I asked,“Really? You're getting zapped right now?” She nodded her head, saying, “Uh-huh.” As soon as she said that, I had my doubts. It didn't seem real to me, but then I caught myself. In my mind, I asked, “Why wouldn't I believe her?” Only one month before this, I had the experience of getting zapped, not far from that same location, on the Friday afternoon before anyone else had arrived. Yet I was doubting this woman. In an instant, I felt surprised by my reaction. For more than ten years I had already dealt with this ongoing disturbance, then suddenly I was having doubts about another person's claims on the issue. This increased my realization that most people are not likely to believe any of this, especially if they have not experienced it for themselves.

  I wanted to get a copy of whatever Audrey had written, then Michael said that he grabbed one for me, so I stopped looking. After we returned to Kansas, I asked him about the copy but he said he had lost it.

  Back in Lawrence, I was getting more disturbed by the vibrations in the house. On the 24th of January, 2018, I began packing the van for another spontaneous trip, feeling chased away by the ongoing turmoil. Driving south on 59, I began to feel relief as I sped away from town. For three nights I stayed with my friends in Hutchinson. Everything felt calm. Then I spent three nights with my former neighbors in Wichita. All was calm and serene. Driving east on 400, I was slowly moving toward the Ozarks for the next ceremony, scheduled for February 3rd.

  I made the mistake of sending two messages about attending the upcoming ceremony in the Ozarks. These were “private” messages, sent through Facebook. When I arrived at my destination, everything felt calm. No one else was around. It was Friday evening, February 2nd. I went walking toward the area where people would be gathering in the morning. As soon as I got there, I felt a disturbing vibration and immediately turned to walk away. The vibe followed me. When I crawled in the van, the vibration seemed to increase with intensity. I went back outside and began walking across a field of grass, toward a highway bridge. Going under the bridge seemed to diminish the vibration, so I stayed down there for nearly an hour. When I emerged on the other side of the highway, walking out into the open, everything felt calm again. I slept in the van and felt no disturbances for the rest of the night.

  The next day passed without any weird-feeling vibrations. The ceremonies went on as usual, and I enjoyed visiting with several people. Late that night, however, I felt strong vibrations in my van, just as I was leaning in through the sliding door. It was like a field of weird energy was already being projected onto the van. Crawling in there, I felt absolutely sure I was being assaulted. I walked away and went under the bridge again, feeling slight relief from the vibes, though I was cold. When I came walking out from underneath, I felt the vibes going through me again. Then I returned to the van.

  Taking my blankets along, I walked way over to the river and found a sand bar to sleep on. It was soft and comfortable but I was shivering with cold, and the weird vibes were still assaulting me. I went back to the van, then to the chapel. About fifteen or twenty people were in there with their sleeping bags and blankets, laying all over the floor. I stood near the entrance, not wanting to wake anyone, yet unsure about where to go or what to do. I left the chapel and walked over to a small kitchen shack, looking around inside for some aluminum foil to wrap around myself. Finding none, I walked back over to the front entrance of the chapel, stepping in for a moment to get warm. Someone raised a head to look at me. All this time, I was getting zapped.

  Then I decided to leave. I went back to the van, started it up and drove out of there. It was after five o'clock in the morning, and I had not slept all night. The winding highway brought me west to the nearest town, and from there I went north until I connected with highway 60. Although I was sad to leave without telling anyone goodbye, I felt I had no choice, desperately needing to get away from the assault I was feeling. That afternoon I was caught in a snowstorm with car wrecks all up and down the highway. When the van started sliding around, and with the temperatures quickly dropping, I pulled over in the town of Clinton and booked a hotel room for the night.  

  When I returned to the house in Lawrence, I immediately asked my two house mates to not tell anyone I was back in town. Mostly, I stressed that I didn't want them texting or saying anything over their phones about my return. They both assured me they would not do such things. It was Tuesday afternoon, February 6th. No bad vibes were apparent for a day. By Wednesday evening though, I was feeling weird pulsations again, buzzing through my skull. I left the house and rode downtown on my bicycle, but the bad vibes seemed to be following me.

  I ran into Stella at the Jazzhaus, and she offered me a place to sleep in the upstairs of her place on Ohio Street. I walked with her to the parking garage, then she drove us to her house. She showed me the upstairs room and told me I was free to come and go, as the front door would remain unlocked. After going back to the Jazzhaus for another hour or so, I rode my bike over to Stella's place. When I went to lie down that night, I immediately felt a strange energy in my chest as my heart started racing, pounding intensely for no plausible reason – except for perhaps another electronic assault. With a heavy sigh, I cussed a few words and started putting my clothes back on. I rode my bike home and went upstairs, still feeling the strange pulsations in my head and chest.

  The next day I pulled a large cardboard box from the basement and broke it down to lie flat over me. Then I started layering sheets of aluminum foil over it, and each night I would pull it over the top of me before falling asleep. The cardboard had two folding points, allowing the flaps to hang over each side of me, with the middle portion resting directly over me. By morning it would be in shambles, with strips of foil falling in different directions, leaving only the bare cardboard above me. I went to buy some duct tape and spray adhesive, planning to make a more permanent blocking device. Before I spent time doing that, I wanted to use a much larger piece of cardboard – a refrigerator-sized box. I began asking for such a box at a home appliance store, and they promised to save the next refrigerator box for me.

  For now, I am still using the crappy rig of aluminum foil, loosely wrapped over the same piece of cardboard I was using. There were nights when I wasn't feeling any bad vibrations, so I didn't concern myself with it. The cardboard and aluminum stayed in the closet. Recently though, I have been feeling disturbing pulses of vibrations, so for the last two nights I have pulled the cardboard and aluminum shield over me. It seems to block some of the disturbance, and I am able to sleep with less concern about my well-being. Some folks might say that this is psychosomatic, though I say it is not. Either way, it's better for my healthy state of mind.

  On two separate occasions when I had the foil and cardboard shield over me, I clearly heard a small “popping” sound, like little grains of sand hitting against the aluminum. It was a steady tempo of tapping sounds; it had a rhythm to it. I first heard this back in January, then again last night, on the first of March. After feeling the disturbing vibrations for several hours before I settled in to sleep, I had just pulled the shield over me, and I was clearly hearing that tapping sound again. I laid there in disbelief, wishing I had something to record the sound with, or to make a video. My digital camera was not far away. Then I had a better thought that I spoke to myself: “If I'm gonna be wishing for things, then actually, I wish for these fuckin' vibes to go fuck off somewhere else and leave me alone.”

  In the morning, most of the foil had fallen away from the cardboard. I laid there wondering how much I had been getting zapped during sleep. Downstairs, I went through my stretch routine. Then sat on the toilet, pondering over which direction my day would go. A part of me wanted to find a different appliance store to get the box I needed to make a better shield. Another part of me wanted bring the computer to a coffee shop, hoping to find an end to this chapter.

  When I finally got a large refrigerator box, I opened it up to lay flat on the back porch. On a day that was sunny and calm, I began using spray adhesive to attach strips of aluminum foil to the cardboard. Brooke came outside to smoke a cigarette, and asked, “What are you making?”

  “Nothing. Don't worry about.”

  “I'm not worried, I'm just wondering what that is.”

  “I can't explain, Brooke. You wouldn't understand.”

  Then she was on the phone, talking to someone as she started saying, “Joe is out here making this… thing. It's a big piece of cardboard and he's putting…”

  I interrupted her.   “Brooke, will you stop? Just stop. It ain't nobody's business. It's none of your concern.”   I was annoyed with her for talking about my project over the phone. Several times, I had asked Brooke and Cory to not mention my presence around there, over the phone or internet, but they both kept doing it, anyway. Cory was sending me an email each month, showing the breakdown of the previous month's utility bills. That was pissing me off. He could have easily told me in person, as we would see each other nearly every day. He was basically confirming my location every time he did that. Multiple times throughout the winter, I had to leave, trying to get away from the electronic assault I was experiencing. No matter how many times I asked my housemates to not be sending anything online that would reveal my return or my presence there, they both kept on doing just that. I was also annoyed that I had shared much of this chapter with Cory, and he still didn't believe me. I should have known.

  When I began to move out, near the end of March, I kept noticing different people at different times, sitting nearby in an idle running car, just watching me as I loaded my things into the van. As usual, they were not picking up anyone or dropping anyone off, and they were not looking for a parking space. They were just watching me. One woman sat there for maybe an hour, staring at me as I brought many loads of things out to my van. Then I held up my arms and yelled, “What? What do you want?” I walked directly to her car, took a good look at her face as I walked past her car window, and continued to walk beyond her car. She appeared to be talking on a phone. I glanced at her license plate when I began to walk back toward my van, and as I walked past her, I spoke out the letters and numbers on her tag. A frightened look came over her face as she started driving away.

  After I had cleared all of my things out of the house, I temporarily stayed with Stella and Kelly, near Ninth and Ohio. I had already brought all of my big aloe vera plants to the farm, hoping we were beyond anymore hard freezes with the weather. Then I saw a forecast for really cold weather over the next few days. I had to make a sudden trip to the farm, to light up the wood stove and save the big aloes from freezing. It was the first day of April. There were multiple car accidents all along the highway, as wet snow was falling, then turning to ice on the road. I stopped at a rest area on Interstate 29 to get out of the traffic. Having recently bought a cell phone for the first time in my life, I called Herb's cell phone to tell him I was on my way up.   “I'm at the rest area on 29, south of Saint Joseph. There were car wrecks all up and down the highway, ever since I left Lawrence.”

  “Where are you calling from? I mean… how are you calling?”   “I bought a little flip-phone the other day. Anyway, I should be there in a couple hours.”

  Not long after I left the rest area, I noticed a little black sports car directly behind me, following way too closely. I slowed down to 60 miles per hour, but they did not pass me. I slowed to to 50, then 40. Any other car would have gone around me, but this car stayed directly behind me. I slowed down to 30, then 20. While all the other traffic was flying past us at seventy miles an hour or faster, this car remained close behind me. I was getting angry. I hit the breaks, several times, yet they still did not pass. Then I pulled onto the shoulder, rolled down my window and put my left arm out, pointing forward as a gesture for them to go around. They appeared to be pulling over behind me, like they were undercover cops or something. Then they started going past me, hesitantly, like they didn't know what to do to next. As they were finally going by, I yelled, “Get the fuck away from me! What the fuck do you want?!” With their windows closed, they likely didn't hear me. It was two men. They finally went on past me, then I sped up behind them to get a reading of their license plate. They took the next exit as I held up my middle finger, asking, “What the fuck was that?”

  It becomes more and more apparent to me that there is a vast network of creeps who are on a government payroll, wasting American tax dollars to spy on people like me – someone doing nothing wrong, but had made the mistake of speaking out about government corruption. It appears that these jerks are relentlessly watching me.

  When I arrived at Herb's house, Herb told me he was leaving for Guatemala in the morning. I was glad to have seen him before he left. He poured me a glass of beer as he, Larry, and I all talked. When I slept on the farm that night, everything remained calm. No weird vibrations were apparent. The next evening when I went to the Grove, Larry told me that Frank had called and wanted me to call him. As usual, Frank and I talked for more than an hour on the phone. Also as usual, our conversation evolved into an in-depth discussion about the evil in our government. That second night back on the farm remained calm.

  The next day, I was over at Herb's house when Larry and Russ walked in from somewhere. I went out to my van to grab some DVD movies I had borrowed from Russ. As I opened the passenger-side door, there on the road in front of me was a man in a tan-colored sports utility vehicle, sitting idle and looking at my van as he appeared to be talking on a phone. I wrongly assumed he was with Larry and Russ. Stepping back into the house, I asked, “Is that dude out there waiting for you guys?” Larry and Russ said they were not with anyone, so I quickly looked outside and saw the guy rolling away. Suddenly I felt a growing rage toward that man. It appeared that another person was keeping a watch on me. “God damn that fuckin' prick,” I said. “These creepy feds need to go find some bigger fish to fry. Jeezus Kreist, they are pissing me off.” Larry and Russ, I'm sure, were uncertain of what I was talking about. Still, I continued ranting about electronic weapons assaulting me for so many years.

  The next few nights on the farm remained calm, but then on the morning of Friday, April 6th I was sitting at my computer in the bus when I started feeling strange vibrations in my head and chest. “No. It can't be,” I said aloud. Then I focused my mind to “listen.” It was happening again. I was being assaulted. It seemed to be coming from the southeast, as it always had before. With another feeling of rage building inside me, I stood up, facing toward the direction of assault, clinched both of my fists and screamed, “God damn you, fucking cowards!” Turning off the computer, I began to organize a few things as I planned to drive the twenty or more miles to Frank's place.

  I stopped twice along the way, turning off the engine to “hear” the vibrations. I did not detect anything. When I pulled into Frank's driveway and shut off the engine, though, I felt the bad vibes again. Frank came walking outside as I said, “They're zapping me, Frank. I came all the way up here to get away from it, but I'm feeling it here, just as soon as I shut off the engine.” We both went into the house and talked about it as I paced back and forth, keeping my body moving around, not wanting to be a stationary target. My throat was feeling tense and tight again. Frank noticed me holding my throat, and he asked me about it. I told him, “Yeah, my throat keeps feeling all tight and numb for the last several months. I feel like they are targeting my glands in there.” I continued pacing back and forth. Then I went outside, walking toward the field to the east. I ducked behind the north wall of a metal shed and instantly felt relief from the assault, which seemed to be coming from the south. So I squatted there with my bare feet on the dirt as I imagined a computerized, automated tracking system that had lost me. In my mind, I pictured it quickly scanning the area, then perhaps resetting the weapon to an inactive position. I thought maybe it might let me be. After ten minutes or so, I walked back over and went into the house. I wasn't feeling anything weird for a while, but then the vibe became apparent again. I went out to hide behind the metal shed, and again I felt relief, but only for as long as I stayed there. Going back in the house, I told Frank, “That metal shed out there seems to block the vibes that appear to be coming from the south, from the direction of Albany.” Frank said, “From the south, that's where it was coming from when I was getting it.”

  I grabbed the phone to call my sister.   “Hello?”

  “Hey Liz, I need prayers again.”

  “Joe, Hi. I was just thinking about you.”  

  “Yeah... telepathy. Liz, I'm getting zapped again, and it's ruining my life.”

  Another long conversation ensued about the ongoing ordeal. We were on the phone for more than an hour. At one point, I mentioned that the ongoing electronic torture was making me feel suicidal at times. Liz said, “Oh, Joe, no...” I replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m not gonna let them win. There are things I want to do before I'm gone. Publishing my book is one of them. I need to get it done, but it's really difficult when I keep having to jump up and run away from the bad vibrations. My life is becoming more random and spontaneous, having to be constantly on the move. I don't tell people where I'm going, because usually I don't know. This is no way to live. I'm so tired of all this.”

  Again, Liz said she and her children would pray for me. In the next few days, I was relieved to observe the naturally occurring calmness around me. I went to Lawrence and returned, feeling only a calm peacefulness for many days. Then I was at herb's house when the phone rang. I was the only person in the house at the time, so I answered the call.   “Hello?”

  “Herb?”

  “Herb went to town for a bit.”   “Oh. Who's this?”   “Joe.”

  Oh, Hi Joe. This is Frieda. Are you back now?”

  “At the moment, yes.”

  “Are you gonna stay around for a while?”   “Maybe. I don't know.”

  She went on about a relative who was bringing a trailer to her property across the road. She asked if any vehicles were blocking the drive, and if so, could someone move them. I told her I would go look, and that I would speak to Herb about it. She called back three more times. While I tried to be polite and accommodating, she kept asking me questions that were specific to my whereabouts at any given time:

  “Are you going back over to the farm tonight?”

  “Yes.” With that reply, a discomfort came over me. It was a truthful answer, but I felt bad for saying it. This annoying phone call was demanding too much information, and I felt that my safety was being compromised. My mind was asking, “Why am I allowing this conversation to happen? Should I have just lied and said I am not going to the farm? Should I hang up the phone?” Then she asked,  

  “Will you be around Herb's tomorrow?”

  “Possibly.”

  “In the morning or in the afternoon?”

  “I don't know, Frieda. I gotta go.”

  It must have taken me another forty-seven seconds to shake her off the phone, and I became irritated, wondering why I didn't just hang up on her. In the days that followed, more electronically bad vibrations returned, bringing the nightmare back to life as I began to gather a few things for another trip to Lawrence. I felt angry with Frieda for asking so many questions, and I was angry with myself for responding to them. Driving away from it all, I said, “Fuck it. I just won't answer that phone anymore.”

Returning to Lawrence, I found some relief for a few days.

  On the internet, I discovered a woman named Doctor Katherine Horton. A physicist, formerly employed at CERN (the European Organization for Nuclear Research), Doctor Horton is a self-described whistle-blower and targeted individual. She was in multiple videos, addressing the issue of electronic assault and torture. In one of these videos, she held a detection device which lit up with lights and sound as she held it to areas around her head, especially when she held it near her throat. She said, “Look at this. Look at this,” as she moved it back and forth, close to her throat area, then away. The device was showing a more intense reaction each time it was near her throat. This woman was apparently being assaulted, electronically. She showed and described some of the measures she had taken to protect herself, including a Faraday cage and walls lined with aluminum. She was also interviewed in podcasts with other targeted individuals, discussing protective measures.

  I found it refreshing to hear people speaking of these things in such a matter-of-fact way. They all know the electronic assault is happening, and they get right to the point in their discussions. It gives me a sense of hope, knowing that some folks are out there speaking truth and raising awareness about this issue.

  All has been calm since my return two days ago. I was in Lawrence for five days, and my concerns about being targeted had faded. The strange experience of my throat going tight and numb, that had gone away as well. I was feeling grateful, giving thanks for the calm serenity that was completely normal for most of my life. Although I have wanted to call a few people, I've refrained from picking up the phone.

  On the evening of May the first, I was home on the farm, preparing to drive to the Grove when I heard a truck coming down the road. I decided to stay back in the darkness to see what the driver would do. Strangely, the truck slowed as it approached, turned toward the fence across the road from me, then backed up, turned in the direction it came from, and drove away. This was suspicious behavior. I thought that they could have been random thieves, looking to scour the farm. But I also felt that it could have been a part of the surveillance, checking to see if I was home. Most people are not going to drive the gravel road two miles away from the highway, just to turn around like they weren't actually going anywhere. It seemed obvious that the driver slowed and turned around as soon as he or she saw my van in the driveway.

  Everything remained calm through the night and into the morning. Herb came over here a while ago as I was cooking a pot of soup. He sat on the porch and talked to someone on his cell phone. At one point, I heard him say, “I'm up at Joe's place.” I gave Herb a bowl of soup, then he laid down to rest on the porch. I brought him a sleeping pad and pillow. After a short while, he got up to go back to the Grove. As Herb was driving away, I sat at my computer when suddenly I felt some weird pulses of vibrations coming from the southeast. Again, I felt my throat getting tight and numb. I had not felt anything like that for about a week. Making a mental note that Herb had just mentioned on the phone that he was “up at Joe’s place,” I thought maybe that call could have alerted someone to my presence there, and perhaps that had something to do with the weird vibrations abruptly returning.

  The bad vibes were off and on for the next two days as I gradually organized the van for another drive away from the farm. On Friday evening, May 4th, I drove over the Missouri River at Atchison, Kansas, and continued down to Lawrence. As usual, I've apparently escaped of “their” tracking system, as I have not been feeling any weird vibrations now for the last three days. Often I have thought that if “they” were that serious about continuing to assault me, they could have put a tracking device on my van. I wouldn't know where to look for such a device, and with modern technology, the thing could be extremely small. But it seems that no tracking devices have been on the van, because I generally seem to escape the torment when I drive sufficiently far and fast.

  On the farm, May 17th, 2018: I left here thirteen days ago to escape the weird vibrations. I Had not felt much of anything bad since leaving. For the most part, everything has been calm, with no tension or numbness in my throat area. Three days ago, on Monday I returned, and everything remained calm until just a while ago.

  Earlier today, I drove to town to renew my vehicle registration, get some groceries, and I picked up some movies from the Library. I wondered if checking out things from the library would alert certain people of my return, or maybe renewing my vehicle registration might have made my presence known. I am certainly not not looking for any bad vibes to return, though I couldn't help noticing that something hasn't felt right since I parked at Herb's house. Then I drove here to the farm, and my throat has been feeling stiff again. There is the slightest sensation of a vibration, ever so faint, yet it's enough to let me know that something is not right. Suddenly I am faced with perhaps another spontaneous escape from this place.

  It has been five days since I wrote that last paragraph. I rolled to Lawrence on Sunday afternoon, feeling free of the weird energy after I got far away from the farm. My first stop was at the Gaslight Tavern for the weekly open jam.

  The next evening, I went to Papa Keno’s for the open jam session. Shortly after I began playing my guitar, a middle-aged couple came out onto the back patio. Sitting at a table, they immediately lifted their phone-cameras and started recording me and the others. It felt wrong and it seemed out of place, and I turned away to keep my image from being captured, though I knew it was already too late. I felt nearly certain that those two were another pair surveillance people. The man went inside Papa Keno’s for a moment. When the woman continued to aim her camera-phone at me, I walked over to her and said, “Will you please stop pointing your camera at me?” I felt a strong urge to grab the beverage from her table and throw it in her face, but I restrained myself. She said, “Oh, Okay,” as she lowered her phone. When her partner returned, she whispered something to him and he looked at me. I glared at both of them, almost wishing for some terrible tragedy to fall upon them.

  I stepped away from the patio and walked down the alley, around the south end of the block, then north on Massachusetts Street. As I went through the front door of Papa Keno’s, those same two people were in there, appearing like they were leaving, though they seemed hesitant about what they were doing. They both acted surprised, even nervous about me suddenly being there in front of them. As they exited the place, I watched through the front window glass, observing their behavior as they went across the street and continued going north. Several times, the man turned back to look at me.

  I went out the back door to speak with the others. Of all my friends and acquaintances on the patio, none of us knew those two people. They were unfamiliar to all of us, yet they immediately started recording us when they arrived. One of my friends suggested, “Maybe they were just excited about the music and wanted to film it.” I replied, “That’s entirely possible, but that’s not how it felt to me.”   After all the years of being electronically assaulted, while also noticing the strange people following or photographing me, I felt more resentment and disdain for those creeps – working for an evil government, targeting innocent people, and living off of taxes like a bunch of parasites. Perhaps those who do the following and photographing are completely disconnected from, and unaware of the programs of electronic assault. Such may be the case with compartmentalized government operations. Perhaps it’s like the saying goes: “The left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.”

  While I can offer no proof that those two people at Papa Keno’s were spies or informants, my intuition strongly told me it was so. Many of these encounters might have gone completely unnoticed by me, had I not experienced the years of electronic assault, coinciding with incidents of surveillance. What the trauma has done is put me on high alert, making me pay close attention when people’s behavior becomes obviously strange and out of place. And though some people would call this paranoia, I call it awareness. There is a big difference.

  Little Farm, 17th of June: I was down in the garden, wearing the upper portion of a protective bee suit to keep the mosquitoes away from me while I hoed weeds. Suddenly I heard several guys on ATVs roll up near the driveway. They were noisily sitting idle, just outside of the driveway as I heard a voice yelling, “You wanna go first?” I got the impression that they were about to roll across the Little Farm bridge. (One of Herb’s cars had recently been vandalized, as someone had smashed out most of the window glass with a brick, and I was thinking about that incident when I heard these guys yelling.) Before they attempted to come onto the farm bridge, I emerged from behind some trees and bushes, and began to walk toward them with the hoe in my hand. As soon as they saw me, they all started driving away, crossing the county bridge toward the south. They were fat and bald, with mustaches on their faces. Their behavior was suspicious, and they seemed like cops. It was an intuitive feeling that occurred to me; they had that “cop vibe.” Then I had the thought that I should have waited behind the bushes to see what those guys would have done if they thought nobody was there. Would they have come onto the Little Farm? If so, then what? Feeling slightly disturbed about the encounter, I walked up the hill to my place.

  Later that night, I started getting heavily zapped. It was some of the strongest electronic assault I had felt in years, and I immediately began to pack the van for departure. I wondered if perhaps there was a correlation between the odd experience in the south driveway, and then getting zapped a few hours later. “It wouldn’t surprise me if some cops have been involved,” I said to myself as I began packing a few things into the van, planning to leave in the morning. I slept under the cardboard and aluminum shield which seemed to be blocking the assault. The zapping continued steadily through the night and into the next morning, as I finished packing for a drive to Lincoln. Putting away the ladder, turning off the propane, and locking the gates, I was frantic about trying to hurry away and escape the onslaught of bad energy.

  My niece, Nancy, had invited me to her wedding, scheduled to take place on the 23rd of June. So I drove toward Lincoln, five days early. For most of that drive, I felt like the vibe was still on me, though it was difficult to decipher with all the normal vibrations of rolling on the road.

  Arriving at Liz and Frank's place, I parked under the shade of a tree. (Frank in Nebraska is my sister’s husband, not to be confused with Frank from Missouri.) I felt rattled, yet uncertain if I was still getting zapped. Soon, however, I was totally feeling it. I began to notice that the attack seemed to be coming from a place in the southern sky, about forty-five degrees up from the horizon. In all the years I had been to visit Liz and Frank, I had never felt the electronic assault on their property. They had been on a ten-acre spread for many years now, and it was always a calm place of refuge for me. That afternoon, however, I went into the van three times, pulling the aluminum shield over myself, feeling relief while napping and sweating. The temperature was really hot that day, though I didn’t mind the heat; it was nothing compared to getting zapped. The first two times I came out from under my shield, I was still feeling the assault. The third time, however, all seemed calm, like the weapon had finally switched off.

  I felt really upset that I was getting targeted at Liz and Frank's farm. I told Liz about it, though she was preoccupied with wedding preparations. I asked her if she had told anyone of my presence there, over the phone or internet. She said, “I called Anne and told her you were here.”   “When was that?”

  “Not long after you arrived.”

  “Well, that would explain it.”

  For the next five days, I felt the usual symptoms of a numb throat and jaw area, pressure in my skull, and the continuing pulses of vibrations. Each night, I found relief by sleeping under the protection of my aluminum shield.

  On the morning of the wedding, I was talking to Frank in the living room when I suddenly felt strong electronic pulses coming from that same part of the southern sky. It was enough to make me spin around and go out the north door, through the mud porch. I went out the east storm door and immediately crouched down beside the foundation wall of concrete blocks, hoping it would shield against the oncoming assault. I did feel alleviation. It seemed that I had temporarily shaken whatever tracking system had been locked onto me. I stayed squatting there for several minutes, breathing sighs of relief, wondering how long until “it” latched onto me again. That last series of pulsations interrupted my chat with Frank. He had been speaking to me at the time when I abruptly turned around and left the room. A few seconds later, I was crouching near the north foundation wall.

  After I stood up and walked around the northeast corner of the house, all felt calm, as though I had successfully escaped detection for a while. But as soon as I returned to my van, leaning in to grab something, I felt the vibes latching onto me again.

  My brother Dave drove us to the wedding. It was at a Catholic church in Lincoln. As far as I could tell, the tracking system was still on me, still causing that constant numbness below my tongue, and the familiar pressure in my skull. The wedding was long and unbearably dull – a Catholic mass with an arrogant priest spouting words of ignorance. He was annoying. Moreover, I still felt like I was getting zapped by something in the southern sky. So I exited several times, noting a feeling of relief from the vibrations when I stepped outside the church and stayed near a north wall.

  When Dave and I left the church parking lot, we followed our nephew a few blocks east to a health food store, and I felt completely disconnected from the weird vibes, having apparently evaded them again. Then we all went to the reception, ten miles away, mostly to the west. For several hours, I felt free from the electronic assault. It was gone, and I knew I had broken free again. At the same time, I suspected that whenever I returned to my van, the bad vibes might return.

  Dave drove us back to Liz and Frank's property, and sure enough, when I opened the sliding van door and leaned in to grab a few things, I felt that weird energy going through me again. I started building a fire in the nearby fire pit, thinking, “What else am I going to do?” I smoked some cannabis through a carrot and continued putting sticks on the fire. Then people began to return from the wedding reception, mostly my nieces and nephews. Several of them were asking me to sing songs. So I strummed a guitar and sang, feeling like I was getting zapped the entire time. I tried to ignore the assault while I focused on the feeling of the music.

  After a while, I put the guitar away, thinking I needed to get ready for bed. Mostly, I wanted to pull the aluminum shield over myself for protection. It was undeniable, the relief I felt whenever I was using that shield during my time there. At one point, I said to myself, “The good news is that the shield seems to be working. The bad news is that it’s probably been a microwave weapon zapping me.”

  Waking up on Sunday morning, I pushed the shield to the side and immediately felt bad vibes, like a field of weird energy was being projected onto the van throughout the night. With the usual disturbing feelings of electronic assault going through me, I went through my morning stretches.

  Then I started organizing a small pack to bring to Colorado. My nephew Tom had offered me a ride, saying I could sleep on the couch in his apartment. So I accepted the offer. As we rolled further away from Lincoln, my anxiety began to diminish with the fading vibrations. During the early part of the drive, I told Tom and Katie about my ongoing ordeal with electronic weapons, while stressing that I did not want anyone on their phones, speaking or texting about me riding to Colorado. They both agreed to “keep it on the down-low,” and they didn't seem to think I was crazy when I told them my story. With each stop we made during the six hour drive, I noted the complete disconnect I felt from any hint of electronic assault.

  For a week I slept on the couch in Tom’s apartment. Each day while Tom and Katie were at work, I took long walks through the surrounding neighborhoods of Lakewood, feeling extremely grateful for the relief I was feeling. Most of that time, I was reluctant to log into my email or Facebook accounts, fearing the dreaded return of the electronic nightmare. I kept mentioning to Tommy that I had not felt any bad vibes ever since we drove to Colorado: “It’s been like a complete disconnect from any of that electronic weirdness. It’s such an obvious difference... I can tell that they’ve lost track of me again. They don’t know where I am.” Tom said, “Well, that’s good.” “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Everything feels totally calm... like it was for most of my life before all that weird shit started.”

  Then one day I took my computer a few blocks away to borrow the wifi signal from a tire store, making sure my VPN service was turned on. After looking at my email and Facebook accounts, I closed the computer and began to walk north, across Colfax Avenue. About midway up the next block, I suddenly felt an electrical kind of pulse coming from the northwest, and penetrating into my skull. Multiple thoughts raced through my mind, like, “Am I getting zapped? Was it just some cell phone microwaves flying by? Maybe it’s wifi signals.” Walking toward Tom’s apartment with my throat feeling strange, I took an indirect route, altering my course several times in an attempt to avoid being tracked or followed. At one point, I stepped into a creek and went under a bridge, partly as an attempt to decipher whether I was feeling differently down there, and also to shake off any type of electronic tracking system which may have been onto me.

  When I finally came back above ground, I ran toward Tom’s place and let myself in, breathing heavily from the running. Katie asked, “Are you okay? What’s going on?” Between deep breaths, I said, “I was just trying to… shake off a weird vibe that... I thought might have latched onto me...” As my breathing slowed, I told Kate and Tom what I had experienced after logging into my email and Facebook accounts. For the next several days, there were moments when I wondered if I was catching any weird vibes. I was no longer feeling the “complete disconnect” of the previous week. Instead, I was noticing occasional pulses of weird energy that kept me wondering.

  Then my sister Anne invited me to stay with her and Duncan. So I gathered my things and settled into a basement room in Arvada. For the first few days, everything felt calm and normal. But after talking on the phone and using the internet, I started feeling weird vibrations again. At times I wondered If it might be the nearby freezer or refrigerator causing the disturbance, so I would step outside the room, only to notice that those appliances were not running at the time; they were completely silent. Then I went upstairs to see if any fans were on. No fans were running. So what were all of these strange pulses of vibrations I kept feeling, and why was everything completely calm for the first several days? Initially, I was reluctant to talk on the phone or use the internet. Then I let down my guard, and everything went strange again.

  At times, it seems there is no escape. When I run into friends and relatives, they want to take pictures of me and post them on social media. They also text each other about seeing me somewhere. I began thinking, “Do I have to abandon everyone I know and move to another country?”

  For many years I had remained mostly silent about my ongoing experience with the electronic assault. In recent months, however, I had begun to tell more people about it.

  My cousin Janelle came to visit Anne’s family during the time when I was there. On the Fourth of July, Janelle and I were out at Tony’s place near a lake. As we talked under the shade of a porch roof, I began to relay most of my story to her. She was receptive, patiently listening, then she said, “Wow, Joe. That’s quite a story.” It was not in a tone of ridicule or doubt; she seemed to believe me.

  A few days later, I was riding in a car with my niece, Kim, and a few of her kids. While driving us through Westminster, Kim spoke of a friend, telling me, “Her dad had mental illness.” Then I noted a hint of ridicule in Kim’s voice when she said, “He thought the government was after him.” I interjected, saying, “How do you know they weren’t?”   “What?”   “Kim, I’ve been having my own struggle with the government. They’ve been messing with me for more than ten years.”

  “Really? What do you mean?”

  I began telling her my story, from being an outspoken activist, to the surveillance I had noticed at times, to the ongoing electronic attacks. When we arrived at her house, the conversation continued into the kitchen. I gave her many details, including the case of Pedro Campos in Puerto Rico, the podcasts with Doctor Katherine Horton and other targeted individuals, and the things Annie Jacobsen had spoken of on the radio. At one point, Kim said, “Uncle Joe, I believe you.” I replied, “Thanks, Kim. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

   Occasionally I talked with Anne about the disturbance. She said she believes me. I did not mention any of it to Duncan because I was fairly certain he wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t think he would keep the conversation between the two of us, since Anne told me that he cannot keep a secret about anything.

  The strange vibrations at Anne and Duncan’s house were off and on for several weeks. I took frequent walks to escape the disturbance, exploring the parks that run along Ralston creek. On days when I felt the vibe was still on me, I stayed for some time in the tunnel that goes under Simms Street, pacing back and forth, hoping the thick concrete would be enough to escape detection. Every time I went walking, which was several times a day, I always felt calm upon my return, like nothing was zapping me. Then the weird vibrations would start up again.

  When I first escaped to Colorado during the last week of June, I did not know how long I would be out here. I thought it might be a couple of weeks. Yet Anne kept encouraging me to stay longer, saying she wanted to throw a birthday party for me and two of my nephews. So I stayed around and tried to work on the book. A few weeks had gone by when I called Liz on the phone to discuss my eventual return to her place:   “Is it alright that my van is still parked there under that tree?”   “Oh yeah, it’s fine.”

  “Thanks. At some point, I’m gonna take the train from Denver to Lincoln. It arrives after three in the morning, so I don’t know what I’ll do. As much as I would like to see all of you, I might just get in the van and drive away. I want to go to a random place for a while, to see if everything remains calm. I need to know if there is some kind of tracking device on my van. I’ll leave you guys a note or something.”   “That’s alright, I understand. How’s it going out there?”   “I don’t know. I’m still getting some weird vibes at times. Whatever this is, and who ever has been doing it, I wish they would leave me alone. I’m sure they think they’re clever with all their technology, but they’re really just a bunch of cowards.”   “Yeah.”   “Anyway, I did escape to the mountains a few times, and that was nice.”

   Although my three treks to the tops of Colorado mountains were adventurous, the third trip was disturbing. In his truck, Duncan drove us to the base of Uncompahgre Peak in Southwest Colorado, where we camped for the night. Waking early, we began our hike at around 3:30 in the morning, and I was feeling a steady vibration going through me. Hiking up the trail, I wondered, “Am I getting zapped?” It most certainly felt like I was. I thought about Duncan using his GPS (Global Positioning System) when he drives anywhere. That would make our location known to certain people in government. We descended down the mountain and prepared to leave. Duncan was driving us along the rocky road away from there, when something strange happened. We passed a man and woman who were driving an off-road vehicle toward the base of the mountain, and as we went past them, the woman held up a camera and took a picture of us. Duncan and Tom both commented on the oddness of that occurrence. For me, it was a moment of verification – another incident of surveillance, along with the vibration I had been feeling that entire time; it bolstered my suspicion that I had been electronically assaulted all the way up and down that mountain.

  During the last week at Anne and Duncan’s house, I was feeling strange electronic pulses in other parts of the house, apart from the room I was staying in. Taking more frequent walks, I managed to avoid some of the weird vibrations. Near the end of August, I went to house-sit for Tom and Kate for five days. Everything felt normal and calm while I was there. The apartment was only a few blocks from a Denver Light-Rail train stop, so when Tom and Kate returned, I gathered my things and rode the W train to Union Station in downtown Denver.

  Paying with cash, I bought an Amtrak Train ticket to Lincoln, scheduled to depart that evening. My hope was to slip away from Colorado unnoticed, without being tracked. After seven or eight hours on the train, I rode a taxi to Liz and Frank’s place. The van battery was dead. Frank helped me with charging the battery before I drove east.

  In Maryville, Missouri, I stopped to buy some groceries, including a large bottle of Heineken beer. When the young lady at the register asked to see my identification, I asked, “Do I really look too young to buy this beer?” She said, “I’m required to ask everyone for their I.D. when purchasing alcohol.” I said, “That’s ridiculous, since I’m obviously way over the required age of twenty-one.” Then I pulled out my driver’s license and held it out to show her the date of birth. She took it from my hand and scanned it. When I heard the “beep” sound, I said, “Fuck! What did you do that for?” I put my right hand over my eyes, feeling angry and upset. After being so careful to get away from Colorado without being noticed by “the enemy,” suddenly I felt that I was likely on their control grid again. I asked the cashier, “Are you familiar with the book, ‘1984,’ by George Orwell?” She replied, “I’ve heard of it.” I said, “Maybe someday you might read it.”

    Upon returning to the farm, everything remained calm for about a week. On September fifth, I received a package that Anne sent from Colorado. That night, I started feeling the disturbing vibrations again, so I drove to Lawrence, getting some peace and calm for several days before returning to the farm. Throughout September, October, and November, the same pattern repeated: I would enjoy several days of calm on the farm, then disturbing vibes would return, so I’d pack a few things and escape to Lawrence.

  On Saturday, October 27th, I drove toward Lawrence. Passing through Oskaloosa, I turned west on highway 92 and went to visit Stan and Cathy’s home near Perry Lake. Shutting off the van in front of their house, I immediately felt the weird vibrations going through me. Stan came outside talking to me, and I was temporarily distracted from the vibrations. Inside the house, Cathy gave me a hug, and Stan poured me a glass of beer. They were inviting me to join them on the deck overlooking the lake, and to fly Stan’s drone while making video of the flight. But I was feeling that continuing, disturbing vibration, and though I really wanted to experience flying the drone and seeing the view from above, I knew I could not stay. Several times I paused, focusing on the electronic assault, then Stan said, “Are you okay, Joe?”

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I really wanted to fly the drone and drink this tasty beer, but I can’t stay.”

  “Is something wrong? You looked like you were having a moment of revelation there for a minute.”

  “Yes, something is definitely wrong. I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. But apparently I was too outspoken, and I became a target. The government has been messing with me for more than ten years. I used to carry a big sign that said, ‘The government did nine-eleven,’ and I really regret being that outspoken about things. Back then I was like, ‘freedom of speech, use it or lose it.’ I had no idea of the repercussions or consequences of speaking out against an evil government. I was so naive.”

  Tears were running down my face. I felt devastated, knowing that the perpetrators of electronic torture had tracked me to my friends’ home. It was no longer a place where I could feel safe, and that made me extremely sad. The last time I was there, which was about a week earlier, Stan had expressed interest in reading my book, and giving me his thoughts about it. So I put all of the chapters on his computer, including this one. Could that be the reason why the government criminals were now assaulting me there? I had never told Stan and Cathy about the years of electronic assault, feeling that they probably wouldn’t believe me. I hugged them both and drove away with tears rolling down my face. Arriving in Lawrence that evening, I detected no more of the bad vibrations.

  On Monday, November 19th, I left the farm for another escape to Lawrence. North of town, I stopped by a friend’s house near Wellman Road. It happened again. When I shut off the van, the vibrations were obvious. This was a place I had been to many times, for about fifteen years, and I had never felt the electronic assault there. I told my friend that I had to leave. When I got to Lawrence, everything felt calm and normal.  

  Though I did not feel any disturbing vibrations in Lawrence during these past few months, I did notice an alarming increase in the level of surveillance over me. It was completely obvious on many occasions. The surveillance continued in Wichita. The only reason I can fathom for the ridiculous amount of surveillance I’ve been seeing, is that the government criminals know I am trying to tell this story. In December of 2018, I drove to South Texas to avoid the cold weather. I was sleeping in my van every night. The surveillance over me continued in San Antonio, Port Isabel, South Padre Island, and El Paso. I could give many details as to how I know I’ve been under constant surveillance, yet I may save all of that for another chapter. It is just too much information to keep cramming into this chapter, and I am tired of all of it.

  While I was still in Wichita during early December, neighbor Marc emailed me some ebooks from Author Richard Lighthouse. Here are a few excerpts from his book, Targeted Individuals & the Air Force Space Command:

  “These medical doctors, scientists, and former intelligence agents have made statements

supporting the evidence that microwave satellite attacks are real, and happening on a global

basis:

Dr John R. Hall, M.D., author (“New Breed: Satellite Terrorism in America”)

Dr Daniel Lebowitz, M.D. (Senate Committee presentation, 2014)

Dr Barrie Trower, government Scientist, microwave expert (youtube videos)

Dr Katherine Horton, Oxford University Scientist (youtube videos)

Dr Spencer Carter, M.D. (BiggerThanSnowden.com)

Dr Colin Ross, M.D., author (“The CIA Doctors”)

Dr Robert Duncan, author

Dr Doug Rokke, government Scientist

Dr Eric Karlstrom, Professor

Dr Nick Begich, Scientist

Dr Paul Batcho, government scientist

Dr Paul Marko, Psychologist

Dr Curtis Bennett, Professor

Dr Corkin Cherubini, author

Dr Matthew Aaron, Scientist

Dr Sean Andrews, Scientist

Willam Binney, NSA Whistleblower

Kirk Weibe, NSA Whistleblower

Karen Stewart, NSA Whistleblower

Carl Clark, CIA Whistleblower

Kevin Shipp, CIA Whistleblower

Mark Phillips, CIA Whistleblower

John DeCamp, Army intelligence Whistleblower”

    “There are 4 active-duty squadrons within the 50th Operations Group, under the Air Force

Space Command. According to the Linkedin Profile of Charles Shurchay (Superintendent -

Air Force Space Command) there are 1,300 personnel, 7 DoD Satellite constellations, and 9

weapon systems that are operated under the 50th Operations Group. Clearly, these are not

simply communications satellites.

  Many of these satellites are positioned in geosynchronous orbit, and are part of a network that

includes communications, tracking, and attack satellites. Using the precise GPS coordinates

of any Targeted Individual, the coordinates can be transferred to local cell towers or UAV

drones for additional targeting. The GPS coordinates are accurate to +/- 0.5 centimeters or

better, which allows different body parts to be targeted and attacked in a grisly, daily ordeal.”

    In another of his books, Cell Towers and Targeted Individuals, Richard claims that most of these attacks on targeted individuals are coming from microwave cell phone towers. This would make sense regarding the attacks on the farm that I felt were coming from the southeast, as there is an array of cell phone microwave towers that are east of the farm, extending southward. According to Richard Lighthouse, these microwave attacks are being orchestrated by the United States Air Force, under the direction of the CIA.

  After all of the strange incidents of surveillance in Texas, I began having thoughts that I need to get this chapter out on a public internet forum. Then maybe the government criminals will leave me alone and let me finish my book. I hope so. Or they might kill me. I hope not. My computer started doing strange things after two creeps sat suspiciously close to me at some outdoor tables on Padre Island. Then I tried connecting to the internet in Port Isabel at several locations with public wifi, but it would not connect. I tried several more times on the way back to San Antonio, but could not get connected to any public wifi. After attempting to connect from outside a store in El Paso, a creepy helicopter came along, going fairly low when it flew directly over my van. That’s when I got back on the highway and drove all the way to Las Cruces and beyond. I went as far west as Tucson, and south to Bisbee.

  Then I started back toward the east. From New Mexico in the final days of 2018, I decided to drive north and go all the way to my sister’s place in Colorado. The government criminals know I am here. I am hoping to throw this document out there on the internet soon. I am not looking for anyone’s sympathy, I just want people to know that these microwave attacks are happening. Treasonous criminals are wasting billions of tax dollars to assault, harass, and torture innocent civilians in this country and around the world.  

  Feeling extremely weary of writing this story, I want it to be over. Not only has this been the most depressing chapter in my book, it has also been the most depressing chapter of my life, and I want this sad chapter to end.

[littlefarmjoe-blog]

Waves                             Copyright 2018, Joe Avery

                                                The author grants permission for this document to be shared only in it’s entirety.

                                                          The author does not consent to allowing any portion to be taken out of context of the whole document.                      

    Excuse me for being naive, I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. Then I learned that by speaking about certain things, I became a target. It took a long time to understand what was happening to me. For more than ten years I have been repeatedly attacked, forced to live like a fugitive on the run, though I have done nothing wrong. These events have been written in chronological order, in the way it all unfolded for me. As time went by, the amount of evidence grew. This is not a story I want to be telling. I know it is likely to stir much criticism, ridicule, and slander against me. None of that matters. Many other people are enduring a struggle that is similar to mine. This is a story that needs to be told.

    For the first twelve years of living on the Missouri farm, there was a calm stillness that I never really thought about until it was overtaken by a strange vibration. I had lived here since 1995, and one night in October of 2007, everything changed. I was immersed in sleep when suddenly I was jolted awake by a weird, vibrating energy. It hit me with intensity. Whatever it was made me sit up in bed, directly out of a deep sleep. It was a low, humming vibration, and I could feel it going through me. It seemed like it was going through everything.

  Instantly I sat up, saying, “What the fuck is that? With my mind racing for a logical explanation, the first thing I imagined was that some heavy machinery was rolling down the road. I thought maybe it was the road grader or a big bulldozer. I looked at the clock, and it showed about two-thirty in the morning. Pulling back the covers, I got out of bed and walked out into the hallway. Then I made my way through the bus. I noticed that the tone of the vibration was not changing in the way you would expect it to, if it was coming from something moving down the road. It stayed at the same tonal vibration as I walked toward the back door of the bus. When I stepped outside and onto the porch, I almost lost my perception of the vibration. The sounds of the wind in the trees, the crickets, and the frogs were making it difficult to “hear” the vibe. Yet as I stood there and focused my mind, I could feel it going through me.

  This weird vibration continued into the next day and for many days that followed. It was disturbing. At random times of the day, I paused and paid attention to decipher if it was still going. Most of the time, it was. There were moments when I didn't perceive it, but it kept coming back. I told other people about it, though no one seemed interested. One day when several people were sitting in the bus, I focused my mind to determine if the vibration was happening, and it was. I asked my visitors, “Do you guys hear that low, humming sort of sound?” They all paused and listened, then they said they didn't hear anything. I explained, “It's not really a sound, it's more of a vibration... a very low vibration.” Still, they didn't notice it. I was baffled and concerned about whatever this was, and it was beginning to really bother me as the days went by.

  Before all of this began, I had been planning to take a trip through Europe for several months. A roofing job in Wichita that summer had earned me enough money to make it happen. So I was at the farm, preparing for my trip when these weird vibrations started happening. As the days went by, I became more concerned about the bad vibes, and I grew more anxious to leave. When I finally left near the end of October, I felt relieved to be away from it all.

  After a few days of Halloween festivities in Lawrence, Kansas, I prepared for a trip eastward. I took a train from Lawrence to Chicago, and another train to Boston. Then I rode a bus to New York City. From there, I flew across the Atlantic Ocean. I spent five months traveling through Sweden, Germany, Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. In April of 2008, I returned to North America, and after some time in New York City, I rode a train to Chicago and another train to Lawrence.

  When I returned to the farm, I did not notice the weird vibration for a while. Eventually though, it became apparent again. Sometimes it would abruptly appear and continue for many hours. Other times, it seemed to be coming in waves, fluctuating between strong and mild vibrations. When people came to the farm, I would ask if they felt the vibes, though they always said they didn't notice anything.

  Then one day I called Frank on the phone. When I told him about the weird vibrations, he asked, “Is it like a low-frequency kind of thing?”

  “Yes! A really low, humming sort of vibration.”

  “I've been getting it for a couple of years.”

  “Really? What is it? What do you think it is?”

  “They're fuckin' with us, Joe.”

  I knew that Frank was speaking of the government, or at least some rogue elements within the government. In my mind, I had already considered that possibility, though I did not want to believe I was dealing with such a thing. I didn't know what it was. I only knew that I definitely felt it. It was really strong at times, vibrating through all of my body, through my skull, my eyeballs, and my organs. It seemed to be going through through all of my cells. Whatever it was, I didn't like it.

  For years I endured this weird vibration, and it always bothered me. Sometimes it was extremely “loud,” feeling like it was penetrating through every fiber in my body. Other times it was more subtle, yet it was almost always happening. Pictures entered my mind: images of government creeps somewhere with their hands on a dial, turning the intensity up and down while pointing electronic weapons at different targets around the world.

  Was I a target? Had I become a target? I began to speculate.

  Early in 2006, I rode with a group of about twenty people as we traveled to the city of Washington, to protest against the war in Iraq. It was cold, winter time. We held our signs outside of the Pentagon as hundreds of civilian and military personnel went into and out of the building. The cops pushed us around, yelling at us to get back off of the sidewalk. They took pictures of us. We also marched around outside of the capitol building with our signs. Some people in our group were arrested.

  Many times during the years of 2006 and 2007, I walked around with a big sign in my hands, which read: “9-11, The government did it.” I carried a sign like that during the Rainbow Gathering in Colorado, in July of 2006. I was handing out websites and information to people. Some law enforcement officers took pictures of me holding my sign. Two months later when September eleventh came around, I paraded with my sign through downtown Lawrence. Irritated that so many people still believed in the “official” version of “Nine-Eleven,” I felt it was my duty to tell the truth. I ended up on sixth street near the river. It was rush-hour traffic with many cars going by. Some people gave me thumbs up, other people cussed at me. One woman drove by, yelling, “You should be arrested for treason!” I laughed and waved as I said, “For exercising my freedom of speech.” A year later, on the eleventh of September, I walked through downtown Wichita with my sign. A strange woman stepped around the corner of a building, lifted a camera and took a picture of me. Then she quickly disappeared.        

In addition to carrying my sign, I was also passing around DVDs containing documentary films about the attacks of Nine-Eleven.

  So I had put myself out there in the streets and on the trails while people had taken pictures of me. And there was Myspace. A friend showed me this website where I could upload my own music, putting it out there for the general public to hear. I thought that was great. Over time, however, I went far beyond sharing my songs. I connected with “9/11 truth” groups through Myspace, posting many articles and documentary films about the false-flag attacks of September Eleventh, 2001. I began to see the internet as a valuable means of sharing information and getting the truth out to people. These things were all happening in 2006 and 2007, in the year or so that led up to my first experiences with the bad vibrations at the farm.

  After one of my trips to the East Coast, I rode a Greyhound bus from New York City to Wichita. We made several stops in New Jersey, and at one of those stops, a peculiar woman boarded the bus. She sat in a seat across the aisle from me, on the right-hand side of the bus, and about four or five seats forward. She turned to look at me for a few seconds, then she turned back toward the front. It seemed weird and out of place. The bus driver announced that there would be a fifteen-minute smoke break at the next stop. When the bus stopped, most of the passengers unloaded themselves out onto the sidewalk, some smoking cigarettes and some going inside the convenience store. I stepped out of the bus, walked past the bench and the smokers, and I went into the store. Wandering down a few aisles, I saw nothing I wanted. So I went out the door, turned right on the sidewalk, and walked past the bench. The woman who had looked at me so intently in the bus, she was now sitting on the bench. The moment I walked by, she held up a camera and took a picture of me. I was fully aware of that as I was stepping up into the bus. It appeared to be a regular digital camera, not a cell phone. Cell phone cameras were not as prevalent back then. Returning to my seat, I felt annoyed that another stranger had just taken my picture. I decided I was going to say something to her when she got back in the bus. But she never did. While all the other passengers had returned to their seats, that strange woman did not.

  Other incidents like this have occurred, though I don't recall some of the details. I do remember a moment when I was in a crowded bus station somewhere out west, high on cannabis, on a layover between bus trips. Suddenly a man walked over to me, held a camera directly in front of my face, took a picture of me, then he quickly turned around and vanished into the crowd. Again, it was a traditional camera, not a cell phone. I remember saying, “What the hell was that all about?” After many encounters like this, it seemed apparent that there was a network of government creeps keeping a watchful eye on outspoken citizens.  

  So, am I a target? Is there some kind of electrical device, a secret weapon that has been getting pointed at me? That's what it has felt like, though I considered other possibilities. Did these weird vibrations have anything to do with the wind farms that are south of the Farm? All of those giant wind generators, anchored deep into the ground, could they be the cause of all the disturbance I was feeling? Were these vibrations coming from those microwave cell phone towers that are east of here? I did not know.

  Many times when the vibes were extremely intense, I felt like I was definitely getting zapped by something. It was difficult to concentrate on working when everything was vibrating. My head and chest, especially, were just humming with these vibrations. Walking around on the farm, I asked, “How can other people not feel this?”

  I felt helpless to do anything about it. Where does a person go with such a complaint? There is no number to call, no complaint form to fill out, and no legal course of action to deal with a disturbing mystery such as this. Most people would never believe or understand any of it. So I lived with it for many years. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of nights, I slept through the constant droning, feeling like there was nothing I could do, and that it was beyond my control.

  In 2011, Jen was coming to visit me on the farm. I had told her about the weird vibrations. Then one night as we lay in bed, she suddenly said, “Hey… I think I feel that vibration you were talking about.” I asked, “Really? You feel that?” She answered, “Yeah... that's weird.” As we talked about it, I felt glad that she noticed it. Finally, someone else had acknowledged this strange vibration in my living space.

  It was depressing, having to endure whatever this was, especially after investing twenty years of my life into this homestead. I had grown fruit trees, blueberry bushes, and grapevines. I built elaborate structures to make everything around here run smoothly, yet many times I felt that I might have to abandon all of it, just to get away from the bad vibes.

  One of the wind farms is about sixteen miles south, sprawling around the town of King City and extending for miles in different directions. Some wind generators are close enough to see through my binoculars. Another wind farm is approximately ten miles to the southwest. Many of those enormous wind generators are out there turning their huge blades, surely causing vibrations in the ground. They are so tall that they must be anchored very deep under the surface. All of them have three spinning blades, and each blade was an entire load on a semi-trailer truck. They are massive. Many times I considered the possibility that they might be the source of the vibrations I had been feeling. I researched information about the wind farm around King City, learning that it first began its operations in the autumn of 2007. Interesting, I thought, because that was when I first started feeling the vibrations. I hoped that was the cause. It was less disturbing than the idea of getting zapped by an electronic weapon. For the next couple of years, I wanted to believe that the weird vibrations were a result of the local wind farms.

  But the theory of the wind farms being the cause was not making any sense. There were days when no wind was blowing, and I could look through my binoculars to see that the wind generator blades were not turning, yet the vibrations would be going strong. Other times, it was windy with the generator blades turning, though the vibrations were not occurring.

  On every occasion when I returned to the farm after being gone for weeks at a time, the vibrations were not happening. For several days after my return, I'd notice that calm stillness that was the norm during my first twelve years of living on the farm. I missed that calm, and I hoped it would stay. After a few days of being home, however, the vibrations would return. This has happened over and over again. I began to notice that the vibrations always seemed to appear within a day after I logged in to my email account or Facebook. Was this just a coincidence? Or was I alerting someone that I was home again, by logging in on a computer? I paid more attention to this, and I began to restrain myself from logging in too soon after returning home. Yet I'd still get on Herb's computer and look at some of the websites I usually visit. Then the vibes would start up again.

  I often talked to Herb about it, and he would suggest that maybe I was hearing the “humming” of the power lines that run along the road where I live. I told him, “I have heard the electrical humming sound you're talking about, and that is not the source of the vibrations. Those power lines were already there during the first twelve years that I lived here, and I never felt the weird vibrations until October of 2007.” As the years kept rolling by, I continued to have bad experiences with all of this, and I occasionally mentioned it to Herb. Over and over again, he would talk about the power lines, and I became more frustrated and annoyed by his continuing response:

  “Those power lines make a humming sound, sometimes.”

  “What I've been experiencing is a vibration, not a sound.”

  “Sound is vibration.”

  “I understand that, Herb. But not all vibration is sound, and these vibrations I'm talking about, I don't hear them with my ears, I feel them in my body.”

  Although I had explained to him on many occasions that what I am feeling is like a beam of energy going through me, vibrating every cell in my body, Herb never seemed to listen.

  There were few people that I ever mentioned it to because most people would not understand what I was talking about. Occasionally someone in Lawrence or Wichita would ask, “How are things at the farm?” Sometimes I mentioned the bad vibes, then I'd find myself going into a long explanation, detailing my experiences with it. Most people have no frame of reference to understand what I was describing to them, and most people appeared to be uninterested. So mostly, I kept it to myself.

  Many nights I could not sleep because the vibrations were too intense. I would drive down the gravel road to Herb's house, attempting to sleep on the extra bed. “Sorry to wake you, Herb. I'm getting zapped way too hard over there.” Yet even as I lay on the guest bed at Herb's house, I could feel the vibrations going through me, almost as strong as they were on the farm. At the farm, the disturbance seemed to be coming from the southeast. Whatever was going through me, it continuously felt like it was coming from the same direction. When I was at Herb's house, it still seemed to be coming from the southeast, although slightly more from the east. Herb lives about a mile and a half to the west of the farm. I began to wonder if the vibrations were coming from the town of Albany.

  Increasingly I became annoyed and enraged about the ongoing disturbance. Trying to work, clean, cook, or do anything was a struggle with the constant humming going through me. I was becoming more angry and irritable, saying, “God damn these fuckin' vibes! What the fuck? How can other people not feel this? This is fuckin' ridiculous! I can't stand this shit!”

  The only time I got some peace was when I left the farm and drove far away from it all. So I left many times, making my escape to Lawrence or Wichita. Sometimes I went to visit Melissa, up near Des Moines. I often told her about my struggles with the bad vibes. She was one of the few people who actually listened and really talked with me about it.

  In April of 2015 I was visiting Luke, down in Lawrence. He had a computer on in the kitchen as he was watching and listening to a broadcast of Democracy Now. It was Tuesday, the 21st of April. They reported on a story about a man named Pedro Albizu Campos, in Puerto Rico. During the 1950's, he was organizing protests against American sugar companies that were exploiting Puerto Rico's sugar cane fields and the people who worked in them. Campos was arrested and spent twenty-six years in prison. He wore wet towels around himself, claiming that he was trying to protect himself from radiation, because the United States Government was pointing an “atomic” weapon at him. He complained of severe headaches and burns all over his skin. Photographs revealed his wounds. Journalists who reported on this case appeared to be laughing at his claims about the U.S. Government. He was being presented as a crazy person who was merely delusional. After his release from prison, other inmates who occupied the same prison cell complained of severe headaches and of feeling like their skin was being burned. Campos continued to wear wet towels after his release from prison, claiming he was still being targeted at his home. After many decades passed, research into declassified documents revealed that the United States Government did, indeed, have a secret weapon that was being aimed at this man. They intended to discredit him by making him appear to be delusional and insane. This was in the 1950s. It is now admitted by the FBI that these things occurred. This was happening more than sixty years ago! It is no far stretch of the imagination to consider the possibility that some kinds of secret electronic weapons are still in use, and with a far greater degree of technology involved.

  As I mentioned earlier, I had spent many years on social media, posting documentary films and articles that expose corruption in the government. First, it was on Myspace, and eventually I was posting things on Facebook. I began to receive the occasional “Log-in alert,” informing me that someone near Richardson, Texas had logged into my Facebook account. So I changed my password. But after a while, I'd receive another alert that someone had logged into my account, again from Richardson, Texas. It happened nearly a dozen times. I also received alerts that my account was logged into from Jefferson City, Missouri, on two occasions. I became annoyed by this, and I began to deactivate my account for weeks or months at a time. Many times I returned to the farm after being gone for a week or more, and I always noticed that the vibrations were not happening. For several days I'd be grateful for the calm serenity. Yet again, when I logged into my email or Facebook account on a computer at Herb's house, the vibrations would start up again. It always happened within a day of logging onto a computer. This fueled my suspicion that I was being targeted and assaulted.

  Frequent headaches tormented me, and I felt that the vibrations were the cause. Also, my guts were churning all the time. Getting the runny shits, I was having to go to the outhouse several times a day. I often said to myself, “They are zapping the shit out of me.” Continuing to work on the farm, I tried to ignore the vibrations. What else could I do? I could leave the farm, as I had done many times before, running and hiding from whatever the disturbance was.    

  Occasionally I would talk about my ongoing problem at the farm, though I only talked about it with people I trusted. Melissa had emailed me some information about wind-farm vibrations. I read of people's complaints, and some of their descriptions of the vibrations were similar to what I had been experiencing. One person described it as “a loud noise that you feel inside your body.” Others complained of headaches and of having trouble sleeping at night. But all the people I read about were those who lived within a mile of wind generators. I was at least ten miles away from the nearest wind farm, though some of the wind towers seem to be closer than that. Could I really be feeling wind generator vibrations from several miles away? Melissa told me that only a small percentage of the population can feel low-frequency vibrations. Again, I tried to believe that the wind farms were the cause of my misery.  

  However, there were many times when I conducted a little experiment while I was getting zapped. I would be standing in any random location on the farm, feeling the vibration going through me. Then I'd quickly run to another random spot, twenty or thirty yards away, and stop. For about two seconds I felt the calm, then the vibes would be going through me again. It was like something was following me, and it took a couple of seconds for it to catch up with me. I did this experiment many times, and I always got the same results.

  In late August of 2015, I escaped to Lawrence to spend my birthday with some friends, and to get away from the bad vibes. One afternoon I went to the library and logged onto my email account. In an email to a friend, I wrote that I would be at the Replay Lounge on Sunday evening, to hear Truckstop Honeymoon play their music on the patio. It would be on the 30th of August. I also re-activated my Facebook account so I could get in touch with a few people. I wrote in a “private” message to someone on Facebook, that I would be at the Replay on Sunday evening. When Sunday arrived, I made my way to the Replay and went in. It was still early, so I decided to go visit Luke, then come back. When I returned, a bigger crowd had gathered as the band was getting ready to play. I went to the front of the crowd. Then I noticed a woman holding a camera with a huge lens attached to it. She was standing near the south side of the stage. Every time she held up the camera, she pointed it directly at my face. I thought that was strange. She was only about ten or fifteen feet away from me, with this gigantic lens. Continuously I watched her, and she never aimed that camera at anyone in the band, nor anyone else in the crowd. Not even once. Every time she held up the camera, she was pointing it directly at my face. I pondered over the many times I had been followed and photographed by creepy people. I also thought about the fact that I had told people, through email and Facebook, that I would be at the Replay Lounge that evening. Then there was this strange woman with the gigantic lens. She gave me the same weird feeling I have always felt whenever I noticed some creeps following or photographing me. She wore a T-shirt which said, “REBEL” in big letters across the front. It looked to me like it was meant to be a part of her fake outfit, in her fed-like attempt to fit in with the Replay crowd. She took multiple pictures of my face, then she left. I wanted to confront her but then I decided to just let it go.

  I returned to the farm. For several weeks I wondered why on earth anyone would need a telephoto lens to take pictures of me from a mere twelve-to-fifteen feet away. Then one day, it all became clear to me. Someone mentioned retina scans and the idea of the government collecting peoples' retina images. Retina patterns are like fingerprints, unique to each individual. I said, “Fuck! That makes a lot of sense. Now they probably have my retina images in some kind of weird data base.”

  It angers me when I think of all of the evil things our government is doing. Yet I often find a certain comfort in knowing that someday we will all be gone. Everyone must die, including all of those government pawns who are doing evil deeds. I wonder how they live with themselves. I wonder how they sleep at night. They seem to have no conscience.

  One evening the vibes were too intense and I had to get away. It was Saturday night, the 26th of September, in 2015. I began to load some things into the van, like my sleeping bag, pillow, drinking water, some bread, and a toothbrush. I drove west and then turned north on another gravel road. I stopped several times along the way, shutting off the engine to decipher whether I was still feeling the vibes. Every time I stopped, the vibes were clearly apparent. When I got to the blacktop road, I turned left and drove west, then I turned right onto another gravel road. I drove up to Poff's pond, several miles from where I live. After parking the van, I was still feeling the vibration. Again, it felt like it was coming from the southeast. Exhausted, I laid down in my sleeping bag and slept through the bad vibrations.

  When daylight arrived, the vibration was still going through me as I went outside to pee in the grass. It was Sunday morning. I got back in the van and drove north on the gravel road to Alan's house, and I parked in his driveway. When I turned off the engine, the vibes were still obvious. I wanted to ask Alan or Trish if they could feel the vibrations that were so apparent to me. As I walked around in the front yard, no one in the house appeared to be awake yet, and I didn't want to bother them. So I got in the van and drove back down the gravel road toward the highway. A car showed up behind me, and the driver seemed to be in a hurry to get around me. As we approached the highway, I pulled over to let that car pass me. Then I shut off the van to determine if the vibes were still happening. They were not. It was the first time in a while that I felt the calm stillness. Half-joking, I said, “Maybe the vibes followed that other car.” I felt relieved to have a few hours of peace before the bad vibes returned in the evening.

  The next day was Monday, the 28th of September. I was working on the second floor of the water-house structure, and the vibes were going strong. Suddenly, the vibrations abruptly stopped. It went from very strong vibrations to completely calm. In that precise moment, hundreds of birds launched themselves up from the nearby trees, just to the east. It was as though they were reacting to the sudden change. The timing was exact, as the vibrations quit and the hundreds of birds went up and out, over the Little Farm pond. They circled around, then settled back into the same trees they had been perched in. I climbed down the ladder and went inside the bus to write about the occurrence in a notebook. This was the first of many entries I began to make as I started keeping a journal of my experiences with the vibrations. While I was writing in my notebook, Herb and Frank rolled up in the north driveway. (I had been using Frank's generator to run some power tools, but it had stopped working, so Frank came over to help me get it running again.) I stepped out onto the porch and started telling Frank what had happened with the birds.

  As we worked on the generator, Frank and I talked about the vibrations. Frank was the only person who had any idea of what I was dealing with, as he claimed to have had a similar experience for about two years. He said, “It felt like I was getting hit with a microwave beam or something.” I replied, “That's what it feels like to me, too.”

  Herb stayed out of the conversation, though he attempted to change the subject a few times. Frank and I continued to talk about the vibrations. Then Herb mentioned the sand plant, four miles to the south, as a possible cause of the vibrations. I reminded him that the sand plant was already in operation for the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, and that the vibrations were not happening during those years. Then he said, “Maybe they got some new equipment.”

  I was growing irritated with Herb's continuing denial of what I was experiencing. He frequently mentioned the power lines, and now it was the sand plant. On many occasions I had described to him, in great detail, all of the things I had been experiencing with the bad vibes. He apparently never listened. If he had been listening and really trying to understand, then he would not keep suggesting ridiculous theories about the probable cause. It became apparent that the thought of anything intentional or sinister was too much for his rational mind to handle, so he would mention the power lines, again and again. It was like he thought my experiences were merely my imagination, and that was beginning to annoy me. It is not, nor was it ever my imagination. I am a rational person who had been trying to understand what these vibrations were, and where they were coming from. I did not want to believe that I was being targeted, yet the notion of electronic weapons became a more rational explanation than any other theories put forth by anyone.

  That same night of September 28th, the vibes came on very strong. I was trying to sleep but I couldn't stand the way I was getting zapped. I wrote in my Journal: Vibe came back strong after 10pm. I am leaving to sleep somewhere else. Maybe in van at Poff's pond.

  Into the van, I loaded my sleeping bag, five gallon water jug, guitar, notebook, toothbrush and toothpaste. I drove down to the Grove and parked in front of Herb's house. The vibes were still going strong. I got back in the van and drove a few miles up to Poff's Pond. When I shut off the van, I could feel the vibes just as much. So I drove back to Herb's house, then back to the farm. More bad vibrations. I was getting extremely irritated with all of this, feeling more and more like I was being assaulted by something, but not knowing what to do.

  Loading a few more things into the van, I decided that I would go all the way up to Frank's house. He was up near Denver, Missouri, more than twenty miles away from the farm. I thought that surely I could find some peace if I drove that far away. Stopping in the town of Gentry, I turned off the van. The vibes were still zapping me. So I drove north on 169, then a gravel road to the east. When I was nearing the corporate hog farm on highway M, I stopped again, shutting off the van to see if the vibes were still happening. They were. Then I drove the rest of the way to Denver, pulled up in Frank's driveway, and parked. When I turned off the engine, I felt the vibes. I was still getting zapped. Laying my forehead on the steering wheel, I felt like crying.

  Frank came outside, saying, “Hey Joe, I was just thinking about you. They're talking about microwave weapons on the radio.” It was about one-thirty in the morning, and Frank had been listening to Coast to Coast, a.m. I got out of the van and told Frank that I was getting zapped hard, and that the vibes were following me.   “I stopped in Gentry, and the vibes were still happening. Then I stopped near the hog farm. The vibes were still going.”

  “Are you feeling it here?”

  “Yes. I could feel it in your driveway as soon as I shut off the van.”

  We went into the house. A woman's voice came through the radio, talking about secret weapons in use by the military. Her name is Annie Jacobsen, and she is the author of such books as The Pentagon's Brain and Operation Paperclip. As Frank and I listened, several people called in to the program, asking about the microwave weapons, so she would then return to that subject.

  When the commercials came on the radio, Frank turned it down and we talked. I told him, “These vibes are weighing heavy on me. I don't know what to do.” Frank said that the woman on the radio had been describing these microwave weapons as the most accurate weapons in use by the Pentagon, and that they can target and track individual people. He told me how they can look through walls with their infra-red technology, and read people's “heat signature.” I asked, “Heat signature?” Frank said, “Everyone emits a unique pattern of body heat, and certain people can be identified by these patterns.”

  Suddenly a few pieces of the puzzle were connecting together in my mind. If I was being targeted, tracked, and followed, then it would make sense that the vibe was still with me as I drove around to all of those different places. If there was some kind of an energy beam or microwave beam being directed specifically at me, then maybe that's why I was feeling it when no one else around me could feel it. And I thought about Jen visiting me, back in 2011. The night she said she felt the vibration, we were lying in bed with our arms and legs wrapped around each other. We were physically as close as two people can possibly be. Perhaps she was feeling some of the vibe that I was getting zapped with.

  As I contemplated these realizations, Frank wondered if he could feel the vibes while standing near me. But he kept saying, “I'm not getting anything.” He spoke of the two years when he felt like he was getting assaulted by something. “I thought it was my neighbor for a while,” Frank said. “I thought he had a microwave dish pointed at me or something.” Frank mentioned that when he was in the navy, he knew of some guys on the ship who would point a microwave communications dish at an unsuspecting sailor and start zapping him. Frank said they did this for fun, pointing the dish at someone they didn't like, then they'd laugh as they watched the guy's reaction. So Frank thought his neighbor had been doing something similar to him. He said that over time, however, he began to suspect that this was some kind of secret weapon being used by the government.

  I told Frank that everything in my life was in question.

  “All these years I have invested my time, energy, and money into my homestead at the Little Farm. I've planted fruit trees and built so many things, and I keep feeling like I'm going to have to abandon it all. Every day I am toiling away, trying to get a roof over the big structure I'm building. But lately I've been wondering, What's the point? What is the point in continuing with any of that stuff if I'm going to keep getting zapped all the time? I can't take this shit anymore.” Breaking down with tears in my eyes, I started crying. I continued talking through my tears, about what I would do. “Maybe I need to disappear from the farm and just roam around the country with a backpack. Maybe I'll go south every winter. I don't know what else to do. I'm not gonna stay at the farm and just keep getting zapped.”

  Frank was trying to figure out a way to ease my sorrow.

  “Joe, do you want me to make you a foil hat?”

  “A what?”

  “Aluminum deflects microwaves. That's why some people wear hats made of aluminum foil.”    I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Sure,” I said, “Why not? I'll try anything.”

  So Frank went into the kitchen and promptly fashioned a foil hat for me. He put it on my head, then I pulled it on for a tighter fit. Frank asked, “Is it working? Do you feel any difference?”

  “I don't know. I'm tired, I wanna crash.”

  “You can sleep in the bedroom. I'm gonna lay on the couch.”

  As I went to lie on the bed, with the vibrations still going through me, I muttered to myself, “There is no way in the world that these weird vibes have anything to do with those wind farms. Fuckin' wind farms couldn't follow me another twenty miles away.”

  When I woke up, it was daylight. I was still feeling the vibes. After I went to pee, I picked up Frank's phone to call Herb. He answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Herb, it's Joe.”

  “Hey, where you at?”

  “I'm up at Frank's. The vibes were following me around last night. I was still getting it in Gentry. Also near the hog farms, and all the way up here in Denver. Those wind farms couldn't possibly have anything to do with this. Wind farms couldn't follow me to Denver. And there was a lady on the radio last night, talking about microwave weapons and other energy weapons that are used by the Pentagon. I am now convinced that I've been getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon.” Herb was saying, “Uh huh, Uh huh...” I could hear the doubt in his voice.

  I drove back to Herb's house, and immediately I felt the vibes. When I got back over to the farm, the vibes were still going. I thought of what Frank had said about aluminum deflecting microwaves, so I went into the aluminum Airstream Trailer to see if I could feel a difference. There were several windows, and I could still feel the vibes near them. Then I found a spot toward the back end of the trailer and I squatted down to the floor. The vibes appeared to diminish. I went back into the bus and wrote my findings in the journal.

  The next day was Wednesday, the 30th of September. I continued writing in my journal: Surprisingly calm today. Have not noticed vibe so far. 2 pm. Wind is from the north and cool today. Highs in the 60's. 4:42pm – Started feeling subtle waves over the past hour. Almost imperceptible.

  1:23 am, October 1st – Feeling vibes in waves. Mild, so far...

  7:56 am – Woke up to the vibes a while ago. Got the wood stove going and went to the shitter. Not noticing the vibe now, because of the sound of the wood stove burning. 10:15 am – Vibes became apparent again, and I went to see if Airstream aluminum made any difference. It most certainly seemed to diminish the vibe. When I was close to the windows, I could feel it more, but when I hid behind the walls blocking the vibes, as I perceive them to be coming from the southeast, it seemed that the aluminum wall diminished the vibe. Feeling the vibe now in the bus. Going to check Airstream again.

  When I returned, I wrote: I'm almost convinced that there is some kind of microwave beam being directed at me from the southeast. Today is my 20th anniversary of moving to the Little Farm. 12:37 pm – Barely feeling vibes now. Almost not there. 12:40 pm WTF! Just felt vibes way stronger. 12:44pm – full on, right near the wood stove. 1:05 pm – Vibes still on.

  Then I wrote: 4:25 pm – About a minute or two ago, a big military-looking aircraft flew over the farm, coming from the east and then turning toward the southwest, just as they were directly over the farm. It was a big, gray aircraft. No markings. The center portion was fat, like a cargo plane, but different. I waved at them as they flew over.

  Every day, I continued to make these kinds of journal entries. October 4th, 7:17 am – Vibe was going strong all night and continues right now. Feels like I am getting zapped, big time. I tried to go to bed last night and vibes were going and I got up and started putting aluminum foil on the walls. Vibes only seemed to increase, like someone was turning up the dial. 8:55 am – Vibe steady and strong and completely obvious. I am taking down the vertical strips I put up last night and putting them horizontally across front wall. Not sure if I will cover front windshield. Could be dark, but better than getting zapped. 12:28 pm – Constant vibration, buzzing in my skull and driving me crazy. Been putting up foil all morning. Just went out to the firewood area and can feel the vibe buzzing my head so much.

  I went over to the Grove and called Melissa on the phone. I told her that the vibes were severely stressing me out. She suggested that we both go somewhere to get away from it. I agreed. I was anxious to get away. Melissa drove down from Iowa and we slept in the bus.

  The next morning I wrote: October 5th, Monday. I wasn't feeling the vibe last night, but upon waking, I did. It has been going all morning. I asked Melissa several times if she feels it, and she says no.

  I started packing Melissa's car for our trip and was feeling frantic about wanting to get away. We had decided to go camping in the Ozark Mountains of Northern Arkansas. When we finally left, I felt a bit of relief with the vibes gradually fading away. As we drove south, I watched the odometer to see how far it was to the wind farm – about sixteen miles. Although we were passing through the middle of the wind farm, the bad vibrations were gone.

  Melissa did most of the driving, and when we got to Fayetteville, we contacted Anna and Joel. They had been staying in a house with their friends, on a beautiful piece of land that was south of town. They fed us some delicious food, and after eating, we all sat on the grass and we talked.

  I told them of my ongoing disturbances with the bad vibrations at the farm, and how I felt like I was being targeted and assaulted by some kind of electronic weapon. I gave them many of the details I have written in this chapter. Joel was sitting to my right, and after some thought, he turned to me and said, “Yeah… I think it's possible they might be fucking with you.” I appreciated Joel's response. Most people wouldn't believe any of it. Anna gave Melissa a few recommendations for places to go camping, then we all said goodbye.

  Melissa drove east as we went to camp in the Steele Creek area. After two nights, Melissa and I returned to that same house, south of Fayetteville. Though all of the residents were gone for the night, Anna had told Melissa that we were welcome to stay there. We slept on the porch, and in the morning we drove to Eureka Springs.

   Anna and Joel were playing music at the Stone House Winery. I sat on the patio with Melissa, drinking beer and laughing at all of the funny things Joel and Anna were saying between songs. They were hilarious, and the music was great. We slept at the home of Anna's god parents, and in the morning we began the long drive back to Northern Missouri. I was feeling much better. We returned to the farm on the evening of Sunday, October 11th. Everything felt calm. No vibrations were apparent, and I didn't want to think about it. We drank a few beers and we smoked some ganja. We talked and laughed while I cooked up some good food. I slept well and felt content.

  The next morning, Melissa and I had a stupid argument over nothing. Feeling angry and annoyed, I wanted her to leave, so she did. As I was shaking off my anger about Melissa, I wondered if the bad vibes would return. Just as they had for the past eight years, the bad vibes returned within a few days after I came home to the farm.

  On Sunday, October 18th, I was working on the water house. The vibe had been going all morning, and it was feeling more intense than usual. I tried to ignore it but it was just too much. As I held a long two-by-four, preparing to carry it up the ladder, I was feeling way too much of the weird energy beam going through me. Stopping in my tracks, I threw the board to the ground and said, “I can't do this anymore.” In that moment, there was a realization that I could no longer live on the farm. I had to get away from the vibe, and I began to think of the steps I would have to take before I could leave. I was about to start packing things into the van, then I remembered all of the aloe vera plants that needed to be brought over to Herb's house for the winter. While loading aloe plants into the van, I was coming to grips with the realization that my time at the farm could be at an end. I thought of all the years I had toiled and struggled to make this homestead happen, and now I might have to abandon it all. Suddenly I was crying. A deep sorrow washed over me as I gathered all of the potted aloe plants.

  With tears running down my face, I drove to the Grove. As I rolled up near Herb's house, I saw that Chaz and Al were there. Chaz was helping Herb work on one of his tractors. I pulled over on the left side of the road and got out of the van. Opening the back hatch, I asked, “Who wants an aloe vera plant?” Al walked over and said, “I'd be interested.”

  “Go ahead and pick one or a few of them.”

  “How about the two big ones?”

  “Well...  How about one of the big ones, and one or two of the smaller ones?”

  He took two plants and I closed the hatch.

  When Herb walked over to me, I began telling him that I had to get away from the farm. I was crying again as I tried to speak:

  “I've been getting zapped over there for way too many years, and I can't take it anymore. I have to leave. I can't live around here anymore. All these years, I've been working so hard to make things happen, and I just feel like I have to walk away from it all. I mean… What's the point? What is the point of trying to continue with anything over there if I'm just gonna keep getting zapped all the time?”

  Chaz and Al were only a few yards away, and I'm sure they were hearing everything I was saying. I didn't care what they heard or what they thought. I was telling Herb that I had to leave.

  Herb said, “Come here and listen to this over here,” as he coaxed me over to one of the power line poles across the road. Herb started telling me how it was making so much noise in the morning. But as we stood there, it was totally silent. Herb continued, “Boy, it was sure making a loud hum this morning.” Tears were still dripping down my face as Herb again tried to convince me that the power lines had something to do with my misery. Standing underneath the silent power line, I was still feeling the bad vibrations going through me. I didn't mention that to Herb. It was pointless. I walked back across the road, up the porch steps and into the house.

   I picked up the phone to call my sister. After dialing Anne's number, I got her answering machine, so I left a message. Then I called my other sister. Liz answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Liz.”

  “Joe, what's wrong?”

  “Well, my goodness. How did you know?”

  “You sound really sad, I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I am really sad. I'm sad that I can't live at the Little Farm anymore.”

  I broke down into tears again.

  Liz asked, “Why? Did someone tell you that you couldn't live there anymore?”

  “No, it's nothing like that. Herb likes me, and I am totally welcome to stay on the farm. It's just that…” I tried to formulate my words before I unloaded the entire story onto Liz.

  “For the first twelve years that I lived on the farm, there was a calm and a stillness that disappeared in 2007. It all started one night in October of 2007. This weird vibration came along and woke me up in the middle of the night. I could feel it going all through my body. It's like a really low, humming sort of vibration, and it just goes through the walls, and it goes through everything. It has stayed around for all of these years and it's been irritating me ever since.”

  “Did you ever find out what it was… or what it is?”

  “For a lot of years I wondered if it was related to the wind farms, but I eventually concluded that it wasn't. I also thought it might have something to do with the microwave cell phone towers to the east. I've often thought that it was some kind of electronic weapon that was being pointed at me. That's what it has always felt like. It's like a beam of weird energy being directed at me. It's almost like a mild, electric shock, but different... like there are billions of electrons vibrating through me.”

  I told her of the years I had been trying to raise awareness about corruption in the government.

  “I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The government did nine-eleven.' I spent years posting about it on Myspace and on Facebook. I protested at the Pentagon. There were often strange people who took pictures of me. Basically, I made myself into a target. Most of those things were happening in 2006 and 2007, in the years leading up to my first encounters with the bad vibrations. The government is messing with me. They have been messing with me for a long time. Whatever has been happening, it causes me frequent headaches. I can feel it messing with my intestines and giving me the runny shits.”

  I continued to cry and talk as Liz patiently listened.

  “All those years I was posting controversial information on social media and carrying signs... I don't know if I made any difference, as far as raising awareness. I don't know if I made any positive changes in the world, but I do know that I drew attention to myself, and I became a target. But there are a lot of people out there who are raising awareness and exposing government corruption. Are they all being targeted? Are they all getting zapped by some kind of electronic weapon? I wonder about the Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth, and people like Richard Gage or David Ray Griffin. Are they getting zapped?”

  I went on about the evils of government, of continuous war for profit and control. I spoke of all of the false flag events that continue to happen around the world, and how it is our tax dollars paying for it all. “These people in shady positions in government, doing all of these horrible things – they're evil!” Liz agreed with me, that there is much evil hiding behind the walls of government. A loud “click” sound came over the phone. I asked, “Did you hear that? That click sound?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I always assumed that they read our emails and listened to phone conversations, long before Edward Snowden told us that they do those things. But with today's technology, I don't know why we would even hear any 'click' sound for someone to be listening to, or recording our conversation. And if they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything! I'm not breaking any laws or hurting anyone. I'm just trying to grow some fruit trees and build a homestead. I wish they would leave me alone!”

  As I finished saying that, I was crying again. Liz offered me her sympathy.

  “It sounds horrible, Joe, what you are going through. I'm going to pray for you, and I'll have all of my kids pray for you, too.”

  “Thanks, Liz. You know I'm not religious, but I do believe in the power of prayer. And you have so many kids, too. So that's some powerful energy.”

  I felt much better after talking with Liz. It was good to tell someone my story, and to not feel like I was being judged or ridiculed. Liz listened and she gave me some feedback without doubting my story or my experience of it all.

  When I returned to the farm, everything felt calm as I slept through the night. When I woke up, it was still calm. Several days passed with no bad vibrations happening. I continued to make an occasional journal entry, though there was nothing to report. Everything stayed calm. I was relieved. I felt that my conversation with Liz had an impact. Perhaps the prayers of Liz and her children had something to do with the relief I was feeling. Beyond that, I felt that who ever was listening to our phone conversation, they must have really heard me, especially the part when I said, “If they are reading my emails, then they should know that I'm not doing anything!” I thought that perhaps someone who had the authority to make a certain decision may have given an order to stop attacking me with whatever kind of electronic weapon I was being assaulted with.

  The days of calm turned into weeks of calm, and I was beginning to feel that my troubles with the bad vibrations were over. Every once in a while, I felt a slight vibration of something, though it was nothing like the ongoing assault I had become so familiar with. After the many years of paying close attention, “listening” for the vibrations, I had become much more aware of my own inner vibrations. I could feel my heartbeat and my pulse with much more clarity than I ever had in the past. There were times when I thought I was feeling a bit of the vibe, but upon further “listening,” I'd realize that I was actually feeling my own pulse and the gush of blood that flows with every beat of my heart. I quickly deciphered the difference, as there was really no comparison. The vibe that had been tormenting me for all of those years was much more pronounced, very strong, and extremely disturbing. There was no denying the existence of the vibe when it was full-on.

  Whatever vibrations I encountered during this time of calm, they were minuscule in comparison to the previous conditions. Sometimes it was merely the vibration of a truck driving by, half a mile away. If you pay attention to these things, you will notice the subtle vibrations that often occur all around you.

  Things continued to remain mostly calm around my place, but then one morning, I woke up to the vibes again. I began to feel a sense of panic, feeling that this was going to continue ruining my life. I wrote in my journal: Sunday, November 15th – THE VIBE IS BACK. I felt it hours ago while sleeping. Woke up to it. Very subtle, mild. But most definitely going.

  Down in the Grove, I phoned Liz, telling her, “For about four weeks, I didn't feel much of anything until today. When I woke up this morning, the vibe was happening again.”

  Liz told me that she had forgotten to keep praying for me. Again, she said that she and her kids would pray for me. I hung up the phone and wondered if I could feel the vibe. I wasn't feeling it in Herb's house. When I went back over to the farm, it was calm again. No vibrations. I breathed a sigh of relief, telling myself to focus on the calm and serenity. I didn't want to give any thought to the bad vibes. Over the next several days, I enjoyed the relaxing feeling of the calm stillness.

  I thought about the creepy government people who read our emails, and I decided to send them a message, so I sent an email to myself:

 To whom it may concern:

 Dear Feds, please stop zapping me with whatever you have been zapping me with. I am not doing anything wrong, I am not breaking any laws,* and I am no longer trying to inform people about government corruption. All I want to do is grow my fruit trees and build my farm structures. Please stop with the electronic harassment and assault. It has been eight long years that I have endured the wrath of your secret electronic weapons, and I am wishing, hoping, and praying that you will end all of that and leave me alone. Don't you have bigger fish to fry? I am just a simple farmer and occasional musician. Please let me be.

Thank you for reading my emails.

    (*Actually though, I do break some laws. I smoke cannabis and occasionally ingest hallucinogenic mushrooms. I have also experimented with other controlled substances. At times I have been guilty of jaywalking or running past stop signs on my bicycle. That's it. That is the full extent of my illegal activity.)

  For the past few years, I had been losing vision in my right eye. In January of 2015, I looked closely in the mirror, with a flashlight shining into my eye. What I saw frightened me. It was cloudy and milky-looking in my pupil. I looked at pictures of cataracts on the internet, and they looked like what I had seen in my eye. At Stan and Cathy's house, I mentioned that I might have cataracts. Cathy asked, “Aren't you too young to be getting cataracts?” I replied, “I'm too young for a lot of things.”

  Soon after that, I scheduled an appointment with an eye doctor in Lawrence. After running some tests and looking into my eyes, the doctor told me what I had already suspected; I had cataracts. He told me that cataract surgery was the only solution, and he referred me to a group of eye surgeons. I asked him about the procedure. He explained that they remove the natural lens and replace it with an artificial lens. I did not like the sound of that. Not wanting to remove my natural lens, I looked for alternatives on the internet.

  During Thanksgiving, I visited with Melissa's family up near Des Moines. I told Melissa about the cataracts, saying, “I don't want to do the surgery, but eventually I won't be able to read or write. It compels me to get more serious about finishing my book.”

  Melissa was sympathetic about my cataracts. After returning home, I received an email from her, saying, “I've read that a leaking microwave oven can cause cataracts. There are detectors you can get to check for microwaves, but I would check into their sensitivity levels before buying one.” I pondered over those words. I never go anywhere near microwave ovens. I don't like them. I avoid cell phones because of the microwaves. Melissa knew about my problems with the bad vibrations, and I had mentioned the idea of microwave weapons to her. Now she was sharing this information about microwave radiation causing cataracts. As I read her email, I said, “Well, great. If it was a microwave weapon being directed at me, it may have caused me to develop cataracts at an early age. Just wonderful.”   And I had thought of getting one of those detectors. It would certainly add a bit more credibility to my story if I could have given actual numeric readings from such a device. By this time, however, the bad vibrations had mostly ended, and I felt that buying one of those detectors would almost be like inviting the bad vibes to come back.   The farm had returned to the calm and serenity that I missed. I was feeling better again. I rolled in the grass, breathing deep and feeling thankful that everything had been calm for this much time, which was only a couple of weeks at that point. And yet I could still feel the aftermath of all the weird vibrations that had been imposed upon me. I couldn't quite explain it, but I felt much different than I had before. Thinking out loud, I said, “Who knows what they've done to me?” I steered my mind away from bad thoughts like cancer and all the other horrible things that could go wrong. I understand how powerful thoughts can be, especially when it comes to good or bad health.

  Over the years, increasingly I noticed that I was often feeling irritable. The slightest little annoyances could set me off into an angry rage. I was already a bit of a moody person at times, though I felt that all those years of getting zapped had changed me. I had less patience with people, and I knew that I couldn't really talk about my dilemma with others. They would laugh and ridicule me. They would call me crazy, delusional, and paranoid. That is what most people will do. They will judge you as being crazy or delusional, without considering the possibility that what you are telling them is the truth.

  For many months I had stayed away from Facebook, and I rarely logged into my email account. When the bad vibes had mostly stopped after October the 18th, I was still reluctant to log into those accounts, concerned that the bad vibes would return. As the weeks passed, though, I began to log in again. I felt like a frightened little animal, crawling out of a hole, wondering if it was safe to go out into the light. With the exception of November 15th, everything had remained relatively calm. I was looking at my news feed on Facebook, though I refused to post anything or participate in any online discussions. Then on the evening of Thursday, December third, I shared a video about Donald Trump. It was the first time I had posted anything in months. It wasn't even controversial, it was just funny. I wondered if posting something might cause “them” to start zapping me again. The next morning, I woke up to the vibe. It was going steady and strong. I decided to leave the farm, so I packed the van for a long drive to Arkansas.

  Joel and Anna were playing music in Eureka Springs, and I drove all the way down there to see them. I helped them load their equipment into and out of the Stone House Winery, and at the end of the evening, they offered me a place to sleep. On Saturday night they were playing music in Fayetteville. Again I helped them move their equipment, before and after the show. I slept in my van that night, and on Sunday morning I drove toward Lawrence.

  By Tuesday I was back on the Farm. Everything felt calm. I avoided logging onto a computer until Thursday evening. I was planning to leave again on Friday, December 11th. The farm remained calm through the night and into the morning. When daylight arrived, I packed my things into the van and drove to Lawrence. Then I made my way through Wichita and to Hutchinson, where I continued to write about all of this.

  It is bad enough having endured the torment of getting zapped for all of those years. Adding sorrow to all of this is the awareness that my closest friends don't believe me. I have told my story to people like Luke, Ian, and Anastasia. They all get a blank look on their faces, like they are having some cognitive dissonance, wondering if I am crazy. It is sad and annoying. Melissa is one of the few people who hasn't doubted my story – Melissa, Frank, and perhaps Joel and Jen. As I have persisted with my story though, it seems that a few people are beginning to believe me.

  After all the years I endured the bad vibrations at the farm, I had examined many different thoughts and ideas about what the disturbance might be. I was looking for the most logical answer to the question: What is the cause of the bad vibrations? The notion of electronic weapons being the cause makes more sense to me than anything else which has been suggested by anyone. It makes more sense than wind farms being the cause, or the power lines, or the sand plant. None of those things could track me around and keep zapping me all the way to Denver, Missouri. But modern electronic weapons certainly could. This is logic, plain and simple. From everything I have experienced, it is my absolute belief that some kind of electronic weapon was being aimed at me for all of those years. It had the ability to track and follow me around in Northwest Missouri. On the radio, Annie Jacobsen had spoken of these weapons. When reading her book, “Phenomena,” I found very little information on the subject. She only briefly mentioned electronic weapons. Perhaps I simply haven't found the right book. Regardless, it has been admitted by the FBI that they were using similar kinds of weapons against someone, as far back as the 1950's.   So why do people have that knee-jerk reaction of ridicule and doubt when I mention any of this to them? I suppose it is because they were conditioned to think that way. Some folks have proposed the idea that perhaps I was experiencing the effects of tinnitus, a condition in which a person hears a ringing sound when no external sound is present. For each person who has suggested this to me, my response has been the same: “It's interesting how that tinnitus disappears every time I drive far enough away from the farm.” Sometimes I wish that those people could get zapped for just ten or twenty minutes. Ordinarily I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, yet if people could experience just a few moments of what I had to endure for eight long years, then maybe they would understand.

  As these weeks roll past, I am grateful for the relative calm I have been feeling. Ever since that day when I cried while talking to my sister on the phone, the bad vibrations have almost completely disappeared. I went back to working on some of my projects, thinking that maybe I can continue living on the farm. An enormous sense of relief has been happening for me. At the same time, there is an ongoing feeling of apprehension that it could all happen again.

  Is it over?

  Will the bad vibrations stay away and let me live in peace?

  Will the calm and serenity remain?

  I hope so.

  That would have been a fine way to end this chapter. I wish it was the end. Eighteen months went by without any notice of the weird vibrations. I thought it was over. But in late May of 2017, the bad vibes returned. It was mild at first, almost imperceptible, then it became stronger. After more than a year of calm, I had begun to think it would be okay to go ahead and speak my mind by posting certain things on Facebook. There were some postings about government corruption and war crimes. Not long after sharing those posts, I started feeling the bad vibes again.

  On the night of May 30th, I was lying in bed when the vibrations became more intense. I got up and began to gather my things, unsure of where to go, only knowing that I had to leave. After driving over to Herb's house, I sat in the car and opened up my computer. I was thinking of driving all the way up to Frank's place, then I thought of the upstairs room above Herb and Larry. The stairs are on the outside, so I was able to go up there without bothering anyone. As I settled in the bed to sleep, I was not feeling the vibes. So I slept.

  In the morning I went downstairs to chat with Larry and Herb. I made no mention of the recent vibrations on the farm. Then Frank showed up at the door. As he stepped inside, he said, “Hi Joe. How's it been going?”

  “Not so great. I'll tell you later.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  “They're zapping me again.”

  “Oh, no. That sucks.”

  “Frank, you're the only person who understands what I'm talking about.”

  Herb went outside as Frank and I discussed the bad vibrations. Larry sat up on the bed, listening to us. Frank recalled his experience of getting zapped for two years. The vibrations stopped harassing him around the same time when they first started bothering me. Frank and I had come up with a theory that initially, the perpetrators thought Frank was me. We both have dark brown eyes, brown hair and a brown beard. We have a similar shape to our eyebrows. People often asked if we were brothers. So it seemed plausible that our identity had gotten mixed up by those who were assaulting us. I told Frank that I had no choice but to leave the farm and go somewhere.

  “First, I need to get that gutter put on the water house, to channel the rain away from the building. Then I have to get out of here. My sister has been inviting me to visit, so maybe I'll go there.” Holding up my laptop computer, I said, “I can keep working on the book, just about anywhere.”

  Back on the farm, I spent most of the day figuring out how I would put up the gutter. The bad vibrations bothered me for a while. By late afternoon, though, they had stopped. After many hours of calm, I thought I would be able to sleep in my own bed again. But as I laid down to sleep that night, the vibes came back, steady and strong. So I gathered a few things and went over to Herb's. In the upstairs, I still felt a vibration, though not as pronounced as it was at the farm. Sleeping through the vibrations, I woke up at sunrise.

  Downstairs, I drank coffee with Herb while I read my emails. Then I drove the dusty road back to the farm. As I started gathering some tools and gutter pieces, no vibrations were apparent. Again, I felt relieved to be working in the calm surroundings. It was Thursday, the first of June. Standing on the porch with the cat, I watched two hummingbirds hovering around their nectar feeder. Suddenly they both flew toward me, one of them flying just a couple of inches past the right side of my face as the other one flew by me at waist level. Laughing with amusement, I said, “That was cool! I love living here when I'm not getting zapped.”

  The disturbing vibrations returned in the afternoon. I did my best to ignore them and to focus on getting the gutter installed. By evening, the vibes had diminished. Several hours later, though, just as I was lying down to sleep, the vibes returned. It seemed like the culprits were intentionally waiting until I went to bed, then as soon as I laid down, they started zapping me. It was like they were experimenting with their sadistic torture device while observing my reactions. For the third night in a row, I got dressed and drove along the gravel road to sleep in the upstairs room of Herb's house. In the morning, I woke up and drove back to the farm.

  After the gutter was attached, I felt better about walking away from the water-house project and going somewhere to get away from the bad vibrations. A few trips away from the farm gave me some peace for a while. I visited my sister's home near Lincoln, then drove to Lawrence. At the end of June, I was swept away in a flood. Interesting as that was, it does not relate to this story.

  When the vibrations returned and increased with intensity, I found myself making journal entries again: July 8th, 2017. The vibe is becoming more pronounced today. For the last month, I haven't felt it much, and most times it is barely noticeable. But today I am feeling a humming in my head that is some of the strongest vibration I've felt since November of 2015.

Sunday, 9th of July – I woke up to the vibe this morning, and it feels more steady and strong than it did yesterday. The realization is upon me again, that I cannot stay here, and I have to begin packing my car for a trip to somewhere.

  Things were much easier when I still had the minivan. There was room to move around and space to sleep. Then the transmission was destroyed. With the little Honda I am now driving, there is no room for anything. I do not know where I will sleep.

  As I write these words, the vibrations are humming in my head and chest. I wonder what may have caused the return of this miserable condition, and the only thing that comes to mind is a recent phone conversation I had with Sherri. It was last Tuesday evening, on the Fourth of July. I had mentioned to her that I thought NPR was just as full of lies as the other mainstream media networks:

  “They've all been lying about nine-eleven for all these years, and that's the biggest lie I have heard being perpetuated in my entire life. If they're going to continue with a lie as huge as nine-eleven, what else are they lying about?”

  So again, I was running my mouth about the government's involvement in a false flag operation, and again, the bad vibes returned.

  With a few things packed into the Honda, I drove all the way up to Frank's house. When Frank came out to meet me in the yard, I said, “They're zapping me again. I can't stand to stay on the farm, so I need to crash here tonight.” We went inside and talked of the experiences we've both had with the vibrations. Everything felt calm at Frank's. There was no feeling of any weird vibes at all. I thought back to what I had been feeling just a few hours earlier at the farm, and it seemed surreal. The calm feeling remained at Frank's house as I fell asleep on the futon.

  In the morning I wanted to get back to the farm and prepare for a more extended trip. By afternoon I was rolling toward the homestead. As soon as I rolled into the north driveway of the Little Farm, the vibration was completely obvious. I made a list of things I would need and began to gather them. Then I drove down to the Grove to visit with Herb and Larry for a couple of hours. Returning to the farm, I was hoping the vibration might have diminished, and that maybe I could sleep in my own bed again. Yet when I returned, the vibration seemed to be coming on stronger, and I knew I couldn't stay there. So I gathered my things for another drive up to Frank's house, feeling frantic about trying to get away, with my head and chest vibrating the entire time. After a second night at Frank's house, I drove back to the farm, preparing for another trip southward.

  Although I've grown tired of writing this chapter, it is difficult to find a stopping point, as I am dealing with an ongoing chronicle of these disturbances. I got away to Lawrence. From there, I drove to the southwest corner of Missouri, then north and west to Wichita for two nights, then to Hutchinson. For three nights, I stayed at Ian and Anastasia's house, then drove back up to Lawrence. By Monday, July 24th, I had returned to Northwest Missouri.

  Everything was calm as I refrained from logging in on a computer. The next day, I logged into email and Facebook while I was at the Library in town. Also, I requested two books by Annie Jacobsen, through the inter-library loan. At the farm I had mild perceptions of some vibrations, but wasn't sure. It was vague. On Thursday, I logged in from Herb's house on an older computer. That night, the vibes came on strong, just as I was settling into bed. I got up, grabbed a few things and drove to Herb's. Stepping up the outside stairs, I went into the room. The vibes were still apparent up there and I couldn't sleep, so I went down to go into the downstairs part, but it was locked. Not wanting to wake Herb, I drove back to the farm. When I got back inside the bus, the vibes were still going steady. I wanted to leave but I was exhausted. It was around two o'clock in the morning when I succumbed, falling asleep with the vibes humming through my body. At daybreak I woke up to the vibes going through me like they hadn't stopped all night.

  Later that day, I drove back up to Frank's. We talked for a while, then I called Herb's house and left him a message. When Herb called back, he told me that he had experienced some strange vibrations during the previous night. That would have been Thursday night and Friday morning, the 27th and 28th of July. Herb said he woke up to a vibration and wondered why he was “hearing” something when he knew that the refrigerator wasn't running at the time, the air conditioner was not on, and the ceiling fan was off. In a way, I was glad that Herb was recognizing a vibration. I certainly don't want him getting zapped, but I've wanted him to understand that what I have been experiencing is real. I want everyone to understand that.

  Again I escaped from the farm, driving to Lawrence and visiting with friends.

  August 14th, 2017 – When I got back to the farm last night, everything felt much different than it ever has in the last twenty-one years. I did not feel good about being home. After all the years of being out here alone, the years of getting zapped, the ongoing apprehension about possibly getting zapped again, and events of the last eleven months which have left me severely angry at certain people, it is feeling more to me like this is no longer my home. It does not feel like my home anymore. The water house stands there, looking at me as if it is wondering when I will break out the tools and continue building on it. I look back to the water house and say, “My heart is not in it. I just don't care anymore.” All of that time and energy, the endless days of toiling away, it might have all been a complete waste of my time, energy, and money. My greatest and most ambitious projects in recent years have been the water house and the book. But the ongoing events of recent months continue to push me away from this place, and I keep returning to the conclusion that I need to buy a van and be prepared to live on the road. The only thing I have left is this book.

  Late August in Lawrence, I stayed at Stella's old house on Montana street during the time when she was moving to a rental property and putting her house up for sale. Many times I had noticed a weird vibration that seemed to be running through the east side of the house. This was the first time I felt any kind of strange electrical vibes in Lawrence. It should be noted that I had logged onto my computer, using Stella’s wifi connection. Perhaps this made my presence known, putting me on someone’s radar. After feeling bad vibes in the southeast bedroom, I moved my sleeping pad into the living room where no vibes were apparent.

  When I told Stella about the bad vibes in that southeast corner room, she said that her daughter did not like that room and would never go in there. Stella reacted strongly to what I was telling her, as it appeared to add some credence to whatever her daughter had been experiencing. Stella seemed to be pondering about a ghostly presence, while I was thinking of something electronic and man-made. I began to notice that the vibration was also apparent in the bathroom, the kitchen, and the laundry room. It was extending lengthwise, north and south, through the entire east side of the house.

  In late August, I bought another old Dodge van. Deciding to stay in Lawrence during the fall and winter, I made arrangements to move in with two friends, though I did not want to be on the lease. By early September, I had settled into a house near the campus of The University of Kansas. One of my early mistakes was logging in on my computer through the wifi in that house. Eventually, I learned about and purchased a VPN (Virtually Private Network) service which is meant to provide some privacy for my online activity, re-routing my connection through another server somewhere. But my attempts at hiding my location had failed, as I had already logged on without the protection of a VPN. I’ve had doubts about whether or not the VPN actually hides my location from the feds, anyway.

  Several times when I went to go walking or riding my bike, I noticed someone in an idle car, stopped in the middle of the street, just staring at me as I made my way from the house. Each time, it was a different person in a different car, not parking anywhere, just sitting idle in the street, staring at me. Every time it happened, I walked or biked directly toward the person, then he or she would drive away as I got closer. It seemed really strange. Not long after those encounters, a weird vibration started happening in my temporary new home. At first, I noticed it in the bathroom when I was standing in front of the toilet to pee. Then I was feeling it in the kitchen as well.

  Luke knew all about my struggle with the bad vibes, and when he came over to see the house, he asked, “Do you ever feel those vibrations when you're in Lawrence?”

  “In the last couple of months, I have. I was getting weird vibes at Stella's old house, all along the east side but not on the west side. And now in this house, I keep getting it in the bathroom and in the kitchen.”

  After Luke left, I wondered why I had not asked him to stand in the bathroom and tell me if he felt the vibrations. My two housemates knew nothing about my years of struggle with the bad vibes on the farm. Several times I had mentioned the weird vibrations in the bathroom and kitchen. When they gave no response, I said nothing more about it.

  During September and October, I became more convinced that I was being electronically harassed at the Lawrence home. Along with the vibrations going through my skull, there was often a feeling of tightness, almost a numbness in my throat area, like the glands were being assaulted. With the vibes penetrating through my chest, my heart often started racing at a much faster pace than usual. It would be normal if I was engaged in heavy exercise at the time, but it often happens when I am fully relaxed, or even when I'm lying down to sleep. There is no reason why my heart should start racing so fast when I am not moving at all. Actually though, there is a reason: electronic assault. One day I was describing the rapid heartbeat to Luke, then he asked, “Is there anything that would be causing you anxiety, to the point where your heart would speed up?”

  “Yes. Getting zapped by electronic weapons causes me anxiety. It causes anxiety when it's happening. And when it's not happening, the thought of it returning makes me apprehensive, too.”

  Once or twice a month, I made the drive up to the Little Farm. It was good to see Herb, Larry, and the dogs in the Grove. The cats, too, especially my cat on the farm. For several days I would hang out, in and around my home. Everything was calm. It seemed apparent that whoever had been assaulting me, they had found my location in Lawrence but were no longer aiming their devices at my home on the farm. When my life returns to that level of calm and serenity, it is the greatest relief I know.

  Back in Lawrence, however, the vibes were becoming more commonplace. At first, it was the steady vibe constantly running through the bathroom, and eventually through the kitchen, as though the perpetrators were uncertain about which room I was occupying. I imagined them projecting a steady vibration, perhaps while figuring out the lay of the house. That's how I thought of it, anyway.  

  As November came along, I started feeling the disturbance in the living room at times. I would abruptly get up and move to different parts of the house, trying to decipher whether the vibes were happening in those areas. One evening, Cory asked, “What are you doing, Joe?”

  “It's difficult to explain. You wouldn't understand.”

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I understand?”

  “Because nobody understands. It's something I've been dealing with for years. Most people don't believe me, anyway. I don't like to talk about it.”

  Cory's curiosity was growing, along with his confusion about my reluctance to speak about my situation. Then I told him, “I've written a fairly detailed chapter about it. It's the longest chapter in my book, and you can read all about it when I get the book published. Or if you want to read it on a computer sometime, maybe I can put it on a flash drive for you. But generally, I don't talk about it with people anymore.”

  “You could email it to me.”

  “No. I definitely don't want to do that. Other people could see it. The wrong people. Shit, they've probably already crept into my computer and got everything in there... any of those times I went online before I had a VPN, they could have done that. But you never know. Maybe they haven't seen that chapter. I'll put it on a flash drive sometime, and we can put it on your computer.” “Okay… well, I'd be interested to read it.”

  For about three months, I had not been feeling anything bothersome in my little room at the top of the stairs. I was able to sleep without much concern. By the end of November though, I was getting more disturbing vibes in my room. One morning, I frantically began to load the van with the things I would need to get away to somewhere, to anywhere. Before I left for another spontaneous escape, I put the majority of this chapter on a flash drive and told Cory, “I have to leave, but I want to put this on your computer before I go.” So we sat down with his laptop computer and made that happen.

  In December I began to document my frequent encounters with the house vibrations by making notes on the December page of a calendar, taped up on the inside of my room door: December 7, 8, 9 – zapped. Familiar pressure in my skull, tightness in my throat glands. Light but steady vibe going on. 10 – calm. Left for farm. Calm at farm. December 13 – returned and zapping started again. 14 – Zapped, heavily. Stopped around 10-11pm. December 15 – Left for Ozarks. December 17 – Returned to Lawrence – calm. After the word, “calm,” there is an arrow pointing through the remaining days of that week, indicating that the calmness had remained.

December 25 – vibes, 26 – vibes, 27 – calm again. At the top of the December calendar page, I began to write down the encounters occurring in January: Vibes on Jan. 5th, 6pm – Vibes.

  Then everything remained calm for twelve days until I got caught up in argument on Facebook. It was a discussion about the idea of mandatory vaccines. In the comments, I went on a rant about the toxic poisons in vaccines, and that mandating forced injections on people was another extension of fascism. Within hours of posting those comments, I was clearly feeling the bad vibrations again. I imagined there was a correlation between my speaking out, then getting assaulted.

  During the many years I was getting zapped on the farm, I often went searching online for some clues to the mystery I was experiencing. Yet for so many of those years, I never thought to do a simple search regarding electronic weapons. I was researching wind-farm vibrations, cell phone tower microwaves, “stray electricity,” and other things. When I finally searched for answers by typing “electronic weapons” in the search box, I was suddenly exposed to hundreds of links dealing with electronic assault, harassment, and torture. It was then I began to realize that there were many other people dealing with the same problems I had been going through. Some of these folks were labeled as “targeted individuals.” People's descriptions of experiences were similar to mine. For example, one thing that seems common among targeted individuals is the claim that the first episodes of electronic assault were very intense, as if to let the victim know with certainty that these attacks were coming from an outside source. Then the level of intensity is brought down to a small fraction of the original attack, though it keeps going for days, weeks, months, or years.

  This was precisely how it happened to me at the farm. That first night I was assaulted in October of 2007, it was extremely intense, then it seemed to gradually diminish in the days that followed, yet it was still going. After that first night of attacks on the farm, I did not think to write down the exact date. I only know that it was middle to late October, in 2007. Had I known what an ongoing ordeal was about to unfold for the next eight or ten years, I most certainly would have written down the date of that first experience.

  Some victims of electronic assault claim to have sensations of feeling like their skin is being burned. This is something I have not experienced. Not once, did I ever feel like my skin was burning. For me, it has been the intense vibrations going through my skull and chest. Many times, my heart was pounding so hard and fast, I felt that someone was trying to cause me to have a heart attack. When the glands in my jaw go numb, I feel like my lymphatic system is being assaulted.

  I understand that much of this chapter is speculation, as I have no way of proving any of this. I can only give my detailed and honest description of what I have experienced. It makes sense to me though, that the perpetrators have developed a method of attacking people in a way that the victims cannot prove. Additionally, it seems that the underlying goal is to discredit the victims by making them appear as delusional and insane. This is what the FBI did to Pedro Campos in the 1950s. While I still consider purchasing a microwave detector or radio frequency indicator, some of those devices cost several hundreds of dollars. With my limited budget, I am not anxious to spend that money.

  In September of 2017, I was introduced to a Missouri chapter of the Native American Church, down in the Ozarks of Southern Missouri. The location was beautiful and I liked most of the people I met. So I returned in October. (For now, I am bypassing the details of what those ceremonies were about, as they could become another entire chapter, separate from this one, and I am trying to stay on point here.) When I was on my way down there for the November ceremony, I stopped at Mama Jean's grocery store on Sunshine Street in Springfield. Using my computer with their wifi, my VPN service would not turn on without me logging in to the service's website. I had forgotten my password, though I knew I had emailed a clue about it to myself. But the only way to retrieve that password was to log in without the protection of the VPN. So I went ahead and logged in, opened up my email and got the password. Also, I replied to an email from my sister, telling her I was heading toward the Ozarks.

  Driving another twenty miles or so to my destination, I put some Rush tunes in the CD player and blasted the music for the last stretch of my trip. When I pulled onto the grassy parking area and turned off the van, I was immediately sensing weird vibrations. In an instant, I felt surprised and upset.

  “Are you kidding me?! Are they really fuckin’ with me... all the way down here in the Ozarks?!” Looking up, I noticed a power line connected to a transformer on the utility pole. I said, “Maybe that's what I'm feeling.” So I took a walk, perhaps a quarter of a mile or more to the south, yet the vibrations continued to follow me. Closing my eyes, I wondered what direction the assault was coming from. Suddenly my hands reached up to a certain location in the northern sky. I perceived the bad vibrations to be coming from that direction. In my mind, I was thinking of a satellite with electronic weapons. I went back to the van, opened the computer and attempted to write about the experience. The vibes increased, and I knew I was being assaulted. It was too obvious, as my skull and my chest were pulsating with vibrations.

  I frantically drove out of there, taking the winding mountain road all the way back to the nearest town, fourteen miles to the west. When I pulled over near the town square and turned off the engine, everything felt calm again. For several hours I walked around the little downtown area, thinking maybe I would sleep there in town, where the van was parked. By midnight though, I decided to drive all the way back to the Native American Church location. When I shut off the engine, everything felt calm. After sleeping in the van, I woke to join in the morning ceremony. For the rest of that Saturday and into the night, I could only feel the calm normality of nature all around me.

  On the 15th of December, I drove to the Ozarks again. My friend Michael rode down there with me. I slept in the van and woke to join in the morning ceremony. During the usual introductions, a woman named Audrey spoke of some papers she had written as part of a book she was working on. She was offering free copies to anyone interested, and asking for donations. She spoke of information she was trying to get out to people. Then she mentioned something about electronic weapons, and that caught my attention.

  Later in the day, people had gathered in a large circle and were “passing the feather.” It was actually not a feather that day, but a small maraca. Each person who held it would speak of their thoughts and feelings while everyone else listened. When someone handed the maraca to me, I stood up, not really knowing what I would say. Then the words just came pouring from my mouth: “Nice day today. Too bad about the chem-trails.” I pointed up to the haze in the western sky, noting that the day had started with a clear sky until we observed those planes spraying trails that do not fade, as normal vapor trails do. A few people in the circle said, “Aho.” (This, I am told, is a Native American expression which means something like, “Amen,” “Right on,” or, “I agree with you.”)

  Continuing, I said, “I hear a lot of people sharing experiences with all of these messages of positivity and hope. I don't want to bring anything negative into this circle, but I feel compelled to say some things that need to be addressed. There are a lot of bad things happening in the world… cops going around murdering people, government starting wars for profit... and it seems that in order to stop the bad things from happening, there needs to be awareness. I mean, how can we stop the bad things if people aren't even aware that those things are happening? This morning, someone mentioned something about electronic weapons.” A woman stood up, saying, “Yes, that was me.” It was Audrey. I looked at her and said, “I have been dealing with this for over ten years. You are not alone.” “Thank you,” she said, “Thank you,” seeming grateful that I was acknowledging the issue. And though I rarely ever mentioned this subject to any of my friends, there I was, telling my story to more than fifty strangers:    “It all started for me in October of 2007 and continued for many years. It's like getting hit with a beam of energy that vibrates through my head and my chest.” Audrey was still standing, nodding her head while saying, “Yes, yes...Yes.” I continued, “I live on a farm, way out in the country. For a long time, I tried to believe that I was dealing with vibrations from the wind farms that are south of my home. Those wind generators are huge, and they have to be anchored way deep into the ground, so I thought maybe that was the cause of the vibrations I was feeling. But over time, I realized that this was something deliberate. I've been writing a detailed chapter about all of this…” Looking to Audrey, I said, “I'm also writing a book.” She was still standing and facing me, while most people in the circle were sitting. I went on, saying,“The thing is, at some point I became a target. I used to walk around with a big sign that said, 'The Government did nine-eleven.' Actually, I don't know who did nine-eleven, but whoever it was, they had the full cooperation of the United States Government, at the highest levels.” Someone in the circle said, “Aho.” “Anyway,” I continued, “The point is that I drew too much attention to myself, and I became another one of their targets.”

  As I spoke, a younger, bearded guy walked around the outside of the circle and put a hand on my left shoulder, saying, “Sorry to interrupt.” Then, in a louder voice, he spoke to the crowd, saying, “This guy is telling the truth. I've been through some stuff, and there's a lot of things I want to say when the feather comes around to me.” I was slightly annoyed that he had interrupted me, yet I allowed him to continue, as he was giving some verbal backing to my claims about electronic weapons. When he let me resume speaking, I tried to pick up where I had left off, though I was somewhat thrown off from a few points I had wanted to make.

  “This has all been a living nightmare for me. I keep hoping and praying that they will leave me alone. They didn't bother me for a year and a half. But when I started posting things on Facebook again, stuff about government corruption and war crimes... Lo and behold, they started zapping me again. It’s like they’re trying to control my freedom of speech.” Audrey said, “Yes, yes...” The rest of the circle remained silent as they patiently listened to what I was saying. While I've forgotten much of what I said that day, I do recall that near the end of my monologue, with emphasis, I said, “This stuff is real. It's electronic assault and harassment. It's electronic torture.” Several people said, “Aho.” I passed the maraca on to the next person to my left, and the speeches returned to less intense subjects.   With the passing hours, the evening had darkened as many of us gathered around the bonfire. Suddenly a woman walked over to me and said, “It is real. I had to move my entire office. My family has seen what this has all been doing to me.” For a few seconds I had mistaken her for Audrey, the woman who mentioned electronic weapons that morning. Then I realized that this was someone else talking to me. We spoke briefly about our experiences with electronic harassment. I did not get her name before she walked away. In the next moment I made a mental note about being surrounded by approximately fifty people, and of that fifty people, three or four of us were claiming to have been assaulted by electronic weapons.

  A while later I saw Audrey on the opposite side of the fire, and I stepped over to speak with her. With her right hand, she made a gesture near the left side of her head as she said, “I'm getting it right now. They're hitting me with it.” I asked,“Really? You're getting zapped right now?” She nodded her head, saying, “Uh-huh.” As soon as she said that, I had my doubts. It didn't seem real to me, but then I caught myself. In my mind, I asked, “Why wouldn't I believe her?” Only one month before this, I had the experience of getting zapped, not far from that same location, on the Friday afternoon before anyone else had arrived. Yet I was doubting this woman. In an instant, I felt surprised by my reaction. For more than ten years I had already dealt with this ongoing disturbance, then suddenly I was having doubts about another person's claims on the issue. This increased my realization that most people are not likely to believe any of this, especially if they have not experienced it for themselves.

  I wanted to get a copy of whatever Audrey had written, then Michael said that he grabbed one for me, so I stopped looking. After we returned to Kansas, I asked him about the copy but he said he had lost it.

  Back in Lawrence, I was getting more disturbed by the vibrations in the house. On the 24th of January, 2018, I began packing the van for another spontaneous trip, feeling chased away by the ongoing turmoil. Driving south on 59, I began to feel relief as I sped away from town. For three nights I stayed with my friends in Hutchinson. Everything felt calm. Then I spent three nights with my former neighbors in Wichita. All was calm and serene. Driving east on 400, I was slowly moving toward the Ozarks for the next ceremony, scheduled for February 3rd.

  I made the mistake of sending two messages about attending the upcoming ceremony in the Ozarks. These were “private” messages, sent through Facebook. When I arrived at my destination, everything felt calm. No one else was around. It was Friday evening, February 2nd. I went walking toward the area where people would be gathering in the morning. As soon as I got there, I felt a disturbing vibration and immediately turned to walk away. The vibe followed me. When I crawled in the van, the vibration seemed to increase with intensity. I went back outside and began walking across a field of grass, toward a highway bridge. Going under the bridge seemed to diminish the vibration, so I stayed down there for nearly an hour. When I emerged on the other side of the highway, walking out into the open, everything felt calm again. I slept in the van and felt no disturbances for the rest of the night.

  The next day passed without any weird-feeling vibrations. The ceremonies went on as usual, and I enjoyed visiting with several people. Late that night, however, I felt strong vibrations in my van, just as I was leaning in through the sliding door. It was like a field of weird energy was already being projected onto the van. Crawling in there, I felt absolutely sure I was being assaulted. I walked away and went under the bridge again, feeling slight relief from the vibes, though I was cold. When I came walking out from underneath, I felt the vibes going through me again. Then I returned to the van.

  Taking my blankets along, I walked way over to the river and found a sand bar to sleep on. It was soft and comfortable but I was shivering with cold, and the weird vibes were still assaulting me. I went back to the van, then to the chapel. About fifteen or twenty people were in there with their sleeping bags and blankets, laying all over the floor. I stood near the entrance, not wanting to wake anyone, yet unsure about where to go or what to do. I left the chapel and walked over to a small kitchen shack, looking around inside for some aluminum foil to wrap around myself. Finding none, I walked back over to the front entrance of the chapel, stepping in for a moment to get warm. Someone raised a head to look at me. All this time, I was getting zapped.

  Then I decided to leave. I went back to the van, started it up and drove out of there. It was after five o'clock in the morning, and I had not slept all night. The winding highway brought me west to the nearest town, and from there I went north until I connected with highway 60. Although I was sad to leave without telling anyone goodbye, I felt I had no choice, desperately needing to get away from the assault I was feeling. That afternoon I was caught in a snowstorm with car wrecks all up and down the highway. When the van started sliding around, and with the temperatures quickly dropping, I pulled over in the town of Clinton and booked a hotel room for the night.  

  When I returned to the house in Lawrence, I immediately asked my two house mates to not tell anyone I was back in town. Mostly, I stressed that I didn't want them texting or saying anything over their phones about my return. They both assured me they would not do such things. It was Tuesday afternoon, February 6th. No bad vibes were apparent for a day. By Wednesday evening though, I was feeling weird pulsations again, buzzing through my skull. I left the house and rode downtown on my bicycle, but the bad vibes seemed to be following me.

  I ran into Stella at the Jazzhaus, and she offered me a place to sleep in the upstairs of her place on Ohio Street. I walked with her to the parking garage, then she drove us to her house. She showed me the upstairs room and told me I was free to come and go, as the front door would remain unlocked. After going back to the Jazzhaus for another hour or so, I rode my bike over to Stella's place. When I went to lie down that night, I immediately felt a strange energy in my chest as my heart started racing, pounding intensely for no plausible reason – except for perhaps another electronic assault. With a heavy sigh, I cussed a few words and started putting my clothes back on. I rode my bike home and went upstairs, still feeling the strange pulsations in my head and chest.

  The next day I pulled a large cardboard box from the basement and broke it down to lie flat over me. Then I started layering sheets of aluminum foil over it, and each night I would pull it over the top of me before falling asleep. The cardboard had two folding points, allowing the flaps to hang over each side of me, with the middle portion resting directly over me. By morning it would be in shambles, with strips of foil falling in different directions, leaving only the bare cardboard above me. I went to buy some duct tape and spray adhesive, planning to make a more permanent blocking device. Before I spent time doing that, I wanted to use a much larger piece of cardboard – a refrigerator-sized box. I began asking for such a box at a home appliance store, and they promised to save the next refrigerator box for me.

  For now, I am still using the crappy rig of aluminum foil, loosely wrapped over the same piece of cardboard I was using. There were nights when I wasn't feeling any bad vibrations, so I didn't concern myself with it. The cardboard and aluminum stayed in the closet. Recently though, I have been feeling disturbing pulses of vibrations, so for the last two nights I have pulled the cardboard and aluminum shield over me. It seems to block some of the disturbance, and I am able to sleep with less concern about my well-being. Some folks might say that this is psychosomatic, though I say it is not. Either way, it's better for my healthy state of mind.

  On two separate occasions when I had the foil and cardboard shield over me, I clearly heard a small “popping” sound, like little grains of sand hitting against the aluminum. It was a steady tempo of tapping sounds; it had a rhythm to it. I first heard this back in January, then again last night, on the first of March. After feeling the disturbing vibrations for several hours before I settled in to sleep, I had just pulled the shield over me, and I was clearly hearing that tapping sound again. I laid there in disbelief, wishing I had something to record the sound with, or to make a video. My digital camera was not far away. Then I had a better thought that I spoke to myself: “If I'm gonna be wishing for things, then actually, I wish for these fuckin' vibes to go fuck off somewhere else and leave me alone.”

  In the morning, most of the foil had fallen away from the cardboard. I laid there wondering how much I had been getting zapped during sleep. Downstairs, I went through my stretch routine. Then sat on the toilet, pondering over which direction my day would go. A part of me wanted to find a different appliance store to get the box I needed to make a better shield. Another part of me wanted bring the computer to a coffee shop, hoping to find an end to this chapter.

  When I finally got a large refrigerator box, I opened it up to lay flat on the back porch. On a day that was sunny and calm, I began using spray adhesive to attach strips of aluminum foil to the cardboard. Brooke came outside to smoke a cigarette, and asked, “What are you making?”

  “Nothing. Don't worry about.”

  “I'm not worried, I'm just wondering what that is.”

  “I can't explain, Brooke. You wouldn't understand.”

  Then she was on the phone, talking to someone as she started saying, “Joe is out here making this… thing. It's a big piece of cardboard and he's putting…”

  I interrupted her.   “Brooke, will you stop? Just stop. It ain't nobody's business. It's none of your concern.”   I was annoyed with her for talking about my project over the phone. Several times, I had asked Brooke and Cory to not mention my presence around there, over the phone or internet, but they both kept doing it, anyway. Cory was sending me an email each month, showing the breakdown of the previous month's utility bills. That was pissing me off. He could have easily told me in person, as we would see each other nearly every day. He was basically confirming my location every time he did that. Multiple times throughout the winter, I had to leave, trying to get away from the electronic assault I was experiencing. No matter how many times I asked my housemates to not be sending anything online that would reveal my return or my presence there, they both kept on doing just that. I was also annoyed that I had shared much of this chapter with Cory, and he still didn't believe me. I should have known.

  When I began to move out, near the end of March, I kept noticing different people at different times, sitting nearby in an idle running car, just watching me as I loaded my things into the van. As usual, they were not picking up anyone or dropping anyone off, and they were not looking for a parking space. They were just watching me. One woman sat there for maybe an hour, staring at me as I brought many loads of things out to my van. Then I held up my arms and yelled, “What? What do you want?” I walked directly to her car, took a good look at her face as I walked past her car window, and continued to walk beyond her car. She appeared to be talking on a phone. I glanced at her license plate when I began to walk back toward my van, and as I walked past her, I spoke out the letters and numbers on her tag. A frightened look came over her face as she started driving away.

  After I had cleared all of my things out of the house, I temporarily stayed with Stella and Kelly, near Ninth and Ohio. I had already brought all of my big aloe vera plants to the farm, hoping we were beyond anymore hard freezes with the weather. Then I saw a forecast for really cold weather over the next few days. I had to make a sudden trip to the farm, to light up the wood stove and save the big aloes from freezing. It was the first day of April. There were multiple car accidents all along the highway, as wet snow was falling, then turning to ice on the road. I stopped at a rest area on Interstate 29 to get out of the traffic. Having recently bought a cell phone for the first time in my life, I called Herb's cell phone to tell him I was on my way up.   “I'm at the rest area on 29, south of Saint Joseph. There were car wrecks all up and down the highway, ever since I left Lawrence.”

  “Where are you calling from? I mean… how are you calling?”   “I bought a little flip-phone the other day. Anyway, I should be there in a couple hours.”

  Not long after I left the rest area, I noticed a little black sports car directly behind me, following way too closely. I slowed down to 60 miles per hour, but they did not pass me. I slowed to to 50, then 40. Any other car would have gone around me, but this car stayed directly behind me. I slowed down to 30, then 20. While all the other traffic was flying past us at seventy miles an hour or faster, this car remained close behind me. I was getting angry. I hit the breaks, several times, yet they still did not pass. Then I pulled onto the shoulder, rolled down my window and put my left arm out, pointing forward as a gesture for them to go around. They appeared to be pulling over behind me, like they were undercover cops or something. Then they started going past me, hesitantly, like they didn't know what to do to next. As they were finally going by, I yelled, “Get the fuck away from me! What the fuck do you want?!” With their windows closed, they likely didn't hear me. It was two men. They finally went on past me, then I sped up behind them to get a reading of their license plate. They took the next exit as I held up my middle finger, asking, “What the fuck was that?”

  It becomes more and more apparent to me that there is a vast network of creeps who are on a government payroll, wasting American tax dollars to spy on people like me – someone doing nothing wrong, but had made the mistake of speaking out about government corruption. It appears that these jerks are relentlessly watching me.

  When I arrived at Herb's house, Herb told me he was leaving for Guatemala in the morning. I was glad to have seen him before he left. He poured me a glass of beer as he, Larry, and I all talked. When I slept on the farm that night, everything remained calm. No weird vibrations were apparent. The next evening when I went to the Grove, Larry told me that Frank had called and wanted me to call him. As usual, Frank and I talked for more than an hour on the phone. Also as usual, our conversation evolved into an in-depth discussion about the evil in our government. That second night back on the farm remained calm.

  The next day, I was over at Herb's house when Larry and Russ walked in from somewhere. I went out to my van to grab some DVD movies I had borrowed from Russ. As I opened the passenger-side door, there on the road in front of me was a man in a tan-colored sports utility vehicle, sitting idle and looking at my van as he appeared to be talking on a phone. I wrongly assumed he was with Larry and Russ. Stepping back into the house, I asked, “Is that dude out there waiting for you guys?” Larry and Russ said they were not with anyone, so I quickly looked outside and saw the guy rolling away. Suddenly I felt a growing rage toward that man. It appeared that another person was keeping a watch on me. “God damn that fuckin' prick,” I said. “These creepy feds need to go find some bigger fish to fry. Jeezus Kreist, they are pissing me off.” Larry and Russ, I'm sure, were uncertain of what I was talking about. Still, I continued ranting about electronic weapons assaulting me for so many years.

  The next few nights on the farm remained calm, but then on the morning of Friday, April 6th I was sitting at my computer in the bus when I started feeling strange vibrations in my head and chest. “No. It can't be,” I said aloud. Then I focused my mind to “listen.” It was happening again. I was being assaulted. It seemed to be coming from the southeast, as it always had before. With another feeling of rage building inside me, I stood up, facing toward the direction of assault, clinched both of my fists and screamed, “God damn you, fucking cowards!” Turning off the computer, I began to organize a few things as I planned to drive the twenty or more miles to Frank's place.

  I stopped twice along the way, turning off the engine to “hear” the vibrations. I did not detect anything. When I pulled into Frank's driveway and shut off the engine, though, I felt the bad vibes again. Frank came walking outside as I said, “They're zapping me, Frank. I came all the way up here to get away from it, but I'm feeling it here, just as soon as I shut off the engine.” We both went into the house and talked about it as I paced back and forth, keeping my body moving around, not wanting to be a stationary target. My throat was feeling tense and tight again. Frank noticed me holding my throat, and he asked me about it. I told him, “Yeah, my throat keeps feeling all tight and numb for the last several months. I feel like they are targeting my glands in there.” I continued pacing back and forth. Then I went outside, walking toward the field to the east. I ducked behind the north wall of a metal shed and instantly felt relief from the assault, which seemed to be coming from the south. So I squatted there with my bare feet on the dirt as I imagined a computerized, automated tracking system that had lost me. In my mind, I pictured it quickly scanning the area, then perhaps resetting the weapon to an inactive position. I thought maybe it might let me be. After ten minutes or so, I walked back over and went into the house. I wasn't feeling anything weird for a while, but then the vibe became apparent again. I went out to hide behind the metal shed, and again I felt relief, but only for as long as I stayed there. Going back in the house, I told Frank, “That metal shed out there seems to block the vibes that appear to be coming from the south, from the direction of Albany.” Frank said, “From the south, that's where it was coming from when I was getting it.”

  I grabbed the phone to call my sister.   “Hello?”

  “Hey Liz, I need prayers again.”

  “Joe, Hi. I was just thinking about you.”  

  “Yeah... telepathy. Liz, I'm getting zapped again, and it's ruining my life.”

  Another long conversation ensued about the ongoing ordeal. We were on the phone for more than an hour. At one point, I mentioned that the ongoing electronic torture was making me feel suicidal at times. Liz said, “Oh, Joe, no...” I replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m not gonna let them win. There are things I want to do before I'm gone. Publishing my book is one of them. I need to get it done, but it's really difficult when I keep having to jump up and run away from the bad vibrations. My life is becoming more random and spontaneous, having to be constantly on the move. I don't tell people where I'm going, because usually I don't know. This is no way to live. I'm so tired of all this.”

  Again, Liz said she and her children would pray for me. In the next few days, I was relieved to observe the naturally occurring calmness around me. I went to Lawrence and returned, feeling only a calm peacefulness for many days. Then I was at herb's house when the phone rang. I was the only person in the house at the time, so I answered the call.   “Hello?”

  “Herb?”

  “Herb went to town for a bit.”   “Oh. Who's this?”   “Joe.”

  Oh, Hi Joe. This is Frieda. Are you back now?”

  “At the moment, yes.”

  “Are you gonna stay around for a while?”   “Maybe. I don't know.”

  She went on about a relative who was bringing a trailer to her property across the road. She asked if any vehicles were blocking the drive, and if so, could someone move them. I told her I would go look, and that I would speak to Herb about it. She called back three more times. While I tried to be polite and accommodating, she kept asking me questions that were specific to my whereabouts at any given time:

  “Are you going back over to the farm tonight?”

  “Yes.” With that reply, a discomfort came over me. It was a truthful answer, but I felt bad for saying it. This annoying phone call was demanding too much information, and I felt that my safety was being compromised. My mind was asking, “Why am I allowing this conversation to happen? Should I have just lied and said I am not going to the farm? Should I hang up the phone?” Then she asked,  

  “Will you be around Herb's tomorrow?”

  “Possibly.”

  “In the morning or in the afternoon?”

  “I don't know, Frieda. I gotta go.”

  It must have taken me another forty-seven seconds to shake her off the phone, and I became irritated, wondering why I didn't just hang up on her. In the days that followed, more electronically bad vibrations returned, bringing the nightmare back to life as I began to gather a few things for another trip to Lawrence. I felt angry with Frieda for asking so many questions, and I was angry with myself for responding to them. Driving away from it all, I said, “Fuck it. I just won't answer that phone anymore.”

Returning to Lawrence, I found some relief for a few days.

  On the internet, I discovered a woman named Doctor Katherine Horton. A physicist, formerly employed at CERN (the European Organization for Nuclear Research), Doctor Horton is a self-described whistle-blower and targeted individual. She was in multiple videos, addressing the issue of electronic assault and torture. In one of these videos, she held a detection device which lit up with lights and sound as she held it to areas around her head, especially when she held it near her throat. She said, “Look at this. Look at this,” as she moved it back and forth, close to her throat area, then away. The device was showing a more intense reaction each time it was near her throat. This woman was apparently being assaulted, electronically. She showed and described some of the measures she had taken to protect herself, including a Faraday cage and walls lined with aluminum. She was also interviewed in podcasts with other targeted individuals, discussing protective measures.

  I found it refreshing to hear people speaking of these things in such a matter-of-fact way. They all know the electronic assault is happening, and they get right to the point in their discussions. It gives me a sense of hope, knowing that some folks are out there speaking truth and raising awareness about this issue.

  All has been calm since my return two days ago. I was in Lawrence for five days, and my concerns about being targeted had faded. The strange experience of my throat going tight and numb, that had gone away as well. I was feeling grateful, giving thanks for the calm serenity that was completely normal for most of my life. Although I have wanted to call a few people, I've refrained from picking up the phone.

  On the evening of May the first, I was home on the farm, preparing to drive to the Grove when I heard a truck coming down the road. I decided to stay back in the darkness to see what the driver would do. Strangely, the truck slowed as it approached, turned toward the fence across the road from me, then backed up, turned in the direction it came from, and drove away. This was suspicious behavior. I thought that they could have been random thieves, looking to scour the farm. But I also felt that it could have been a part of the surveillance, checking to see if I was home. Most people are not going to drive the gravel road two miles away from the highway, just to turn around like they weren't actually going anywhere. It seemed obvious that the driver slowed and turned around as soon as he or she saw my van in the driveway.

  Everything remained calm through the night and into the morning. Herb came over here a while ago as I was cooking a pot of soup. He sat on the porch and talked to someone on his cell phone. At one point, I heard him say, “I'm up at Joe's place.” I gave Herb a bowl of soup, then he laid down to rest on the porch. I brought him a sleeping pad and pillow. After a short while, he got up to go back to the Grove. As Herb was driving away, I sat at my computer when suddenly I felt some weird pulses of vibrations coming from the southeast. Again, I felt my throat getting tight and numb. I had not felt anything like that for about a week. Making a mental note that Herb had just mentioned on the phone that he was “up at Joe’s place,” I thought maybe that call could have alerted someone to my presence there, and perhaps that had something to do with the weird vibrations abruptly returning.

  The bad vibes were off and on for the next two days as I gradually organized the van for another drive away from the farm. On Friday evening, May 4th, I drove over the Missouri River at Atchison, Kansas, and continued down to Lawrence. As usual, I've apparently escaped of “their” tracking system, as I have not been feeling any weird vibrations now for the last three days. Often I have thought that if “they” were that serious about continuing to assault me, they could have put a tracking device on my van. I wouldn't know where to look for such a device, and with modern technology, the thing could be extremely small. But it seems that no tracking devices have been on the van, because I generally seem to escape the torment when I drive sufficiently far and fast.

  On the farm, May 17th, 2018: I left here thirteen days ago to escape the weird vibrations. I Had not felt much of anything bad since leaving. For the most part, everything has been calm, with no tension or numbness in my throat area. Three days ago, on Monday I returned, and everything remained calm until just a while ago.

  Earlier today, I drove to town to renew my vehicle registration, get some groceries, and I picked up some movies from the Library. I wondered if checking out things from the library would alert certain people of my return, or maybe renewing my vehicle registration might have made my presence known. I am certainly not not looking for any bad vibes to return, though I couldn't help noticing that something hasn't felt right since I parked at Herb's house. Then I drove here to the farm, and my throat has been feeling stiff again. There is the slightest sensation of a vibration, ever so faint, yet it's enough to let me know that something is not right. Suddenly I am faced with perhaps another spontaneous escape from this place.

  It has been five days since I wrote that last paragraph. I rolled to Lawrence on Sunday afternoon, feeling free of the weird energy after I got far away from the farm. My first stop was at the Gaslight Tavern for the weekly open jam.

  The next evening, I went to Papa Keno’s for the open jam session. Shortly after I began playing my guitar, a middle-aged couple came out onto the back patio. Sitting at a table, they immediately lifted their phone-cameras and started recording me and the others. It felt wrong and it seemed out of place, and I turned away to keep my image from being captured, though I knew it was already too late. I felt nearly certain that those two were another pair surveillance people. The man went inside Papa Keno’s for a moment. When the woman continued to aim her camera-phone at me, I walked over to her and said, “Will you please stop pointing your camera at me?” I felt a strong urge to grab the beverage from her table and throw it in her face, but I restrained myself. She said, “Oh, Okay,” as she lowered her phone. When her partner returned, she whispered something to him and he looked at me. I glared at both of them, almost wishing for some terrible tragedy to fall upon them.

  I stepped away from the patio and walked down the alley, around the south end of the block, then north on Massachusetts Street. As I went through the front door of Papa Keno’s, those same two people were in there, appearing like they were leaving, though they seemed hesitant about what they were doing. They both acted surprised, even nervous about me suddenly being there in front of them. As they exited the place, I watched through the front window glass, observing their behavior as they went across the street and continued going north. Several times, the man turned back to look at me.

  I went out the back door to speak with the others. Of all my friends and acquaintances on the patio, none of us knew those two people. They were unfamiliar to all of us, yet they immediately started recording us when they arrived. One of my friends suggested, “Maybe they were just excited about the music and wanted to film it.” I replied, “That’s entirely possible, but that’s not how it felt to me.”   After all the years of being electronically assaulted, while also noticing the strange people following or photographing me, I felt more resentment and disdain for those creeps – working for an evil government, targeting innocent people, and living off of taxes like a bunch of parasites. Perhaps those who do the following and photographing are completely disconnected from, and unaware of the programs of electronic assault. Such may be the case with compartmentalized government operations. Perhaps it’s like the saying goes: “The left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.”

  While I can offer no proof that those two people at Papa Keno’s were spies or informants, my intuition strongly told me it was so. Many of these encounters might have gone completely unnoticed by me, had I not experienced the years of electronic assault, coinciding with incidents of surveillance. What the trauma has done is put me on high alert, making me pay close attention when people’s behavior becomes obviously strange and out of place. And though some people would call this paranoia, I call it awareness. There is a big difference.

  Little Farm, 17th of June: I was down in the garden, wearing the upper portion of a protective bee suit to keep the mosquitoes away from me while I hoed weeds. Suddenly I heard several guys on ATVs roll up near the driveway. They were noisily sitting idle, just outside of the driveway as I heard a voice yelling, “You wanna go first?” I got the impression that they were about to roll across the Little Farm bridge. (One of Herb’s cars had recently been vandalized, as someone had smashed out most of the window glass with a brick, and I was thinking about that incident when I heard these guys yelling.) Before they attempted to come onto the farm bridge, I emerged from behind some trees and bushes, and began to walk toward them with the hoe in my hand. As soon as they saw me, they all started driving away, crossing the county bridge toward the south. They were fat and bald, with mustaches on their faces. Their behavior was suspicious, and they seemed like cops. It was an intuitive feeling that occurred to me; they had that “cop vibe.” Then I had the thought that I should have waited behind the bushes to see what those guys would have done if they thought nobody was there. Would they have come onto the Little Farm? If so, then what? Feeling slightly disturbed about the encounter, I walked up the hill to my place.

  Later that night, I started getting heavily zapped. It was some of the strongest electronic assault I had felt in years, and I immediately began to pack the van for departure. I wondered if perhaps there was a correlation between the odd experience in the south driveway, and then getting zapped a few hours later. “It wouldn’t surprise me if some cops have been involved,” I said to myself as I began packing a few things into the van, planning to leave in the morning. I slept under the cardboard and aluminum shield which seemed to be blocking the assault. The zapping continued steadily through the night and into the next morning, as I finished packing for a drive to Lincoln. Putting away the ladder, turning off the propane, and locking the gates, I was frantic about trying to hurry away and escape the onslaught of bad energy.

  My niece, Nancy, had invited me to her wedding, scheduled to take place on the 23rd of June. So I drove toward Lincoln, five days early. For most of that drive, I felt like the vibe was still on me, though it was difficult to decipher with all the normal vibrations of rolling on the road.

  Arriving at Liz and Frank's place, I parked under the shade of a tree. (Frank in Nebraska is my sister’s husband, not to be confused with Frank from Missouri.) I felt rattled, yet uncertain if I was still getting zapped. Soon, however, I was totally feeling it. I began to notice that the attack seemed to be coming from a place in the southern sky, about forty-five degrees up from the horizon. In all the years I had been to visit Liz and Frank, I had never felt the electronic assault on their property. They had been on a ten-acre spread for many years now, and it was always a calm place of refuge for me. That afternoon, however, I went into the van three times, pulling the aluminum shield over myself, feeling relief while napping and sweating. The temperature was really hot that day, though I didn’t mind the heat; it was nothing compared to getting zapped. The first two times I came out from under my shield, I was still feeling the assault. The third time, however, all seemed calm, like the weapon had finally switched off.

  I felt really upset that I was getting targeted at Liz and Frank's farm. I told Liz about it, though she was preoccupied with wedding preparations. I asked her if she had told anyone of my presence there, over the phone or internet. She said, “I called Anne and told her you were here.”   “When was that?”

  “Not long after you arrived.”

  “Well, that would explain it.”

  For the next five days, I felt the usual symptoms of a numb throat and jaw area, pressure in my skull, and the continuing pulses of vibrations. Each night, I found relief by sleeping under the protection of my aluminum shield.

  On the morning of the wedding, I was talking to Frank in the living room when I suddenly felt strong electronic pulses coming from that same part of the southern sky. It was enough to make me spin around and go out the north door, through the mud porch. I went out the east storm door and immediately crouched down beside the foundation wall of concrete blocks, hoping it would shield against the oncoming assault. I did feel alleviation. It seemed that I had temporarily shaken whatever tracking system had been locked onto me. I stayed squatting there for several minutes, breathing sighs of relief, wondering how long until “it” latched onto me again. That last series of pulsations interrupted my chat with Frank. He had been speaking to me at the time when I abruptly turned around and left the room. A few seconds later, I was crouching near the north foundation wall.

  After I stood up and walked around the northeast corner of the house, all felt calm, as though I had successfully escaped detection for a while. But as soon as I returned to my van, leaning in to grab something, I felt the vibes latching onto me again.

  My brother Dave drove us to the wedding. It was at a Catholic church in Lincoln. As far as I could tell, the tracking system was still on me, still causing that constant numbness below my tongue, and the familiar pressure in my skull. The wedding was long and unbearably dull – a Catholic mass with an arrogant priest spouting words of ignorance. He was annoying. Moreover, I still felt like I was getting zapped by something in the southern sky. So I exited several times, noting a feeling of relief from the vibrations when I stepped outside the church and stayed near a north wall.

  When Dave and I left the church parking lot, we followed our nephew a few blocks east to a health food store, and I felt completely disconnected from the weird vibes, having apparently evaded them again. Then we all went to the reception, ten miles away, mostly to the west. For several hours, I felt free from the electronic assault. It was gone, and I knew I had broken free again. At the same time, I suspected that whenever I returned to my van, the bad vibes might return.

  Dave drove us back to Liz and Frank's property, and sure enough, when I opened the sliding van door and leaned in to grab a few things, I felt that weird energy going through me again. I started building a fire in the nearby fire pit, thinking, “What else am I going to do?” I smoked some cannabis through a carrot and continued putting sticks on the fire. Then people began to return from the wedding reception, mostly my nieces and nephews. Several of them were asking me to sing songs. So I strummed a guitar and sang, feeling like I was getting zapped the entire time. I tried to ignore the assault while I focused on the feeling of the music.

  After a while, I put the guitar away, thinking I needed to get ready for bed. Mostly, I wanted to pull the aluminum shield over myself for protection. It was undeniable, the relief I felt whenever I was using that shield during my time there. At one point, I said to myself, “The good news is that the shield seems to be working. The bad news is that it’s probably been a microwave weapon zapping me.”

  Waking up on Sunday morning, I pushed the shield to the side and immediately felt bad vibes, like a field of weird energy was being projected onto the van throughout the night. With the usual disturbing feelings of electronic assault going through me, I went through my morning stretches.

  Then I started organizing a small pack to bring to Colorado. My nephew Tom had offered me a ride, saying I could sleep on the couch in his apartment. So I accepted the offer. As we rolled further away from Lincoln, my anxiety began to diminish with the fading vibrations. During the early part of the drive, I told Tom and Katie about my ongoing ordeal with electronic weapons, while stressing that I did not want anyone on their phones, speaking or texting about me riding to Colorado. They both agreed to “keep it on the down-low,” and they didn't seem to think I was crazy when I told them my story. With each stop we made during the six hour drive, I noted the complete disconnect I felt from any hint of electronic assault.

  For a week I slept on the couch in Tom’s apartment. Each day while Tom and Katie were at work, I took long walks through the surrounding neighborhoods of Lakewood, feeling extremely grateful for the relief I was feeling. Most of that time, I was reluctant to log into my email or Facebook accounts, fearing the dreaded return of the electronic nightmare. I kept mentioning to Tommy that I had not felt any bad vibes ever since we drove to Colorado: “It’s been like a complete disconnect from any of that electronic weirdness. It’s such an obvious difference... I can tell that they’ve lost track of me again. They don’t know where I am.” Tom said, “Well, that’s good.” “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Everything feels totally calm... like it was for most of my life before all that weird shit started.”

  Then one day I took my computer a few blocks away to borrow the wifi signal from a tire store, making sure my VPN service was turned on. After looking at my email and Facebook accounts, I closed the computer and began to walk north, across Colfax Avenue. About midway up the next block, I suddenly felt an electrical kind of pulse coming from the northwest, and penetrating into my skull. Multiple thoughts raced through my mind, like, “Am I getting zapped? Was it just some cell phone microwaves flying by? Maybe it’s wifi signals.” Walking toward Tom’s apartment with my throat feeling strange, I took an indirect route, altering my course several times in an attempt to avoid being tracked or followed. At one point, I stepped into a creek and went under a bridge, partly as an attempt to decipher whether I was feeling differently down there, and also to shake off any type of electronic tracking system which may have been onto me.

  When I finally came back above ground, I ran toward Tom’s place and let myself in, breathing heavily from the running. Katie asked, “Are you okay? What’s going on?” Between deep breaths, I said, “I was just trying to… shake off a weird vibe that... I thought might have latched onto me...” As my breathing slowed, I told Kate and Tom what I had experienced after logging into my email and Facebook accounts. For the next several days, there were moments when I wondered if I was catching any weird vibes. I was no longer feeling the “complete disconnect” of the previous week. Instead, I was noticing occasional pulses of weird energy that kept me wondering.

  Then my sister Anne invited me to stay with her and Duncan. So I gathered my things and settled into a basement room in Arvada. For the first few days, everything felt calm and normal. But after talking on the phone and using the internet, I started feeling weird vibrations again. At times I wondered If it might be the nearby freezer or refrigerator causing the disturbance, so I would step outside the room, only to notice that those appliances were not running at the time; they were completely silent. Then I went upstairs to see if any fans were on. No fans were running. So what were all of these strange pulses of vibrations I kept feeling, and why was everything completely calm for the first several days? Initially, I was reluctant to talk on the phone or use the internet. Then I let down my guard, and everything went strange again.

  At times, it seems there is no escape. When I run into friends and relatives, they want to take pictures of me and post them on social media. They also text each other about seeing me somewhere. I began thinking, “Do I have to abandon everyone I know and move to another country?”

  For many years I had remained mostly silent about my ongoing experience with the electronic assault. In recent months, however, I had begun to tell more people about it.

  My cousin Janelle came to visit Anne’s family during the time when I was there. On the Fourth of July, Janelle and I were out at Tony’s place near a lake. As we talked under the shade of a porch roof, I began to relay most of my story to her. She was receptive, patiently listening, then she said, “Wow, Joe. That’s quite a story.” It was not in a tone of ridicule or doubt; she seemed to believe me.

  A few days later, I was riding in a car with my niece, Kim, and a few of her kids. While driving us through Westminster, Kim spoke of a friend, telling me, “Her dad had mental illness.” Then I noted a hint of ridicule in Kim’s voice when she said, “He thought the government was after him.” I interjected, saying, “How do you know they weren’t?”   “What?”   “Kim, I’ve been having my own struggle with the government. They’ve been messing with me for more than ten years.”

  “Really? What do you mean?”

  I began telling her my story, from being an outspoken activist, to the surveillance I had noticed at times, to the ongoing electronic attacks. When we arrived at her house, the conversation continued into the kitchen. I gave her many details, including the case of Pedro Campos in Puerto Rico, the podcasts with Doctor Katherine Horton and other targeted individuals, and the things Annie Jacobsen had spoken of on the radio. At one point, Kim said, “Uncle Joe, I believe you.” I replied, “Thanks, Kim. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

   Occasionally I talked with Anne about the disturbance. She said she believes me. I did not mention any of it to Duncan because I was fairly certain he wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t think he would keep the conversation between the two of us, since Anne told me that he cannot keep a secret about anything.

  The strange vibrations at Anne and Duncan’s house were off and on for several weeks. I took frequent walks to escape the disturbance, exploring the parks that run along Ralston creek. On days when I felt the vibe was still on me, I stayed for some time in the tunnel that goes under Simms Street, pacing back and forth, hoping the thick concrete would be enough to escape detection. Every time I went walking, which was several times a day, I always felt calm upon my return, like nothing was zapping me. Then the weird vibrations would start up again.

  When I first escaped to Colorado during the last week of June, I did not know how long I would be out here. I thought it might be a couple of weeks. Yet Anne kept encouraging me to stay longer, saying she wanted to throw a birthday party for me and two of my nephews. So I stayed around and tried to work on the book. A few weeks had gone by when I called Liz on the phone to discuss my eventual return to her place:   “Is it alright that my van is still parked there under that tree?”   “Oh yeah, it’s fine.”

  “Thanks. At some point, I’m gonna take the train from Denver to Lincoln. It arrives after three in the morning, so I don’t know what I’ll do. As much as I would like to see all of you, I might just get in the van and drive away. I want to go to a random place for a while, to see if everything remains calm. I need to know if there is some kind of tracking device on my van. I’ll leave you guys a note or something.”   “That’s alright, I understand. How’s it going out there?”   “I don’t know. I’m still getting some weird vibes at times. Whatever this is, and who ever has been doing it, I wish they would leave me alone. I’m sure they think they’re clever with all their technology, but they’re really just a bunch of cowards.”   “Yeah.”   “Anyway, I did escape to the mountains a few times, and that was nice.”

   Although my three treks to the tops of Colorado mountains were adventurous, the third trip was disturbing. In his truck, Duncan drove us to the base of Uncompahgre Peak in Southwest Colorado, where we camped for the night. Waking early, we began our hike at around 3:30 in the morning, and I was feeling a steady vibration going through me. Hiking up the trail, I wondered, “Am I getting zapped?” It most certainly felt like I was. I thought about Duncan using his GPS (Global Positioning System) when he drives anywhere. That would make our location known to certain people in government. We descended down the mountain and prepared to leave. Duncan was driving us along the rocky road away from there, when something strange happened. We passed a man and woman who were driving an off-road vehicle toward the base of the mountain, and as we went past them, the woman held up a camera and took a picture of us. Duncan and Tom both commented on the oddness of that occurrence. For me, it was a moment of verification – another incident of surveillance, along with the vibration I had been feeling that entire time; it bolstered my suspicion that I had been electronically assaulted all the way up and down that mountain.

  During the last week at Anne and Duncan’s house, I was feeling strange electronic pulses in other parts of the house, apart from the room I was staying in. Taking more frequent walks, I managed to avoid some of the weird vibrations. Near the end of August, I went to house-sit for Tom and Kate for five days. Everything felt normal and calm while I was there. The apartment was only a few blocks from a Denver Light-Rail train stop, so when Tom and Kate returned, I gathered my things and rode the W train to Union Station in downtown Denver.

  Paying with cash, I bought an Amtrak Train ticket to Lincoln, scheduled to depart that evening. My hope was to slip away from Colorado unnoticed, without being tracked. After seven or eight hours on the train, I rode a taxi to Liz and Frank’s place. The van battery was dead. Frank helped me with charging the battery before I drove east.

  In Maryville, Missouri, I stopped to buy some groceries, including a large bottle of Heineken beer. When the young lady at the register asked to see my identification, I asked, “Do I really look too young to buy this beer?” She said, “I’m required to ask everyone for their I.D. when purchasing alcohol.” I said, “That’s ridiculous, since I’m obviously way over the required age of twenty-one.” Then I pulled out my driver’s license and held it out to show her the date of birth. She took it from my hand and scanned it. When I heard the “beep” sound, I said, “Fuck! What did you do that for?” I put my right hand over my eyes, feeling angry and upset. After being so careful to get away from Colorado without being noticed by “the enemy,” suddenly I felt that I was likely on their control grid again. I asked the cashier, “Are you familiar with the book, ‘1984,’ by George Orwell?” She replied, “I’ve heard of it.” I said, “Maybe someday you might read it.”

    Upon returning to the farm, everything remained calm for about a week. On September fifth, I received a package that Anne sent from Colorado. That night, I started feeling the disturbing vibrations again, so I drove to Lawrence, getting some peace and calm for several days before returning to the farm. Throughout September, October, and November, the same pattern repeated: I would enjoy several days of calm on the farm, then disturbing vibes would return, so I’d pack a few things and escape to Lawrence.

  On Saturday, October 27th, I drove toward Lawrence. Passing through Oskaloosa, I turned west on highway 92 and went to visit Stan and Cathy’s home near Perry Lake. Shutting off the van in front of their house, I immediately felt the weird vibrations going through me. Stan came outside talking to me, and I was temporarily distracted from the vibrations. Inside the house, Cathy gave me a hug, and Stan poured me a glass of beer. They were inviting me to join them on the deck overlooking the lake, and to fly Stan’s drone while making video of the flight. But I was feeling that continuing, disturbing vibration, and though I really wanted to experience flying the drone and seeing the view from above, I knew I could not stay. Several times I paused, focusing on the electronic assault, then Stan said, “Are you okay, Joe?”

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I really wanted to fly the drone and drink this tasty beer, but I can’t stay.”

  “Is something wrong? You looked like you were having a moment of revelation there for a minute.”

  “Yes, something is definitely wrong. I grew up thinking we had freedom of speech in this country. But apparently I was too outspoken, and I became a target. The government has been messing with me for more than ten years. I used to carry a big sign that said, ‘The government did nine-eleven,’ and I really regret being that outspoken about things. Back then I was like, ‘freedom of speech, use it or lose it.’ I had no idea of the repercussions or consequences of speaking out against an evil government. I was so naive.”

  Tears were running down my face. I felt devastated, knowing that the perpetrators of electronic torture had tracked me to my friends’ home. It was no longer a place where I could feel safe, and that made me extremely sad. The last time I was there, which was about a week earlier, Stan had expressed interest in reading my book, and giving me his thoughts about it. So I put all of the chapters on his computer, including this one. Could that be the reason why the government criminals were now assaulting me there? I had never told Stan and Cathy about the years of electronic assault, feeling that they probably wouldn’t believe me. I hugged them both and drove away with tears rolling down my face. Arriving in Lawrence that evening, I detected no more of the bad vibrations.

  On Monday, November 19th, I left the farm for another escape to Lawrence. North of town, I stopped by a friend’s house near Wellman Road. It happened again. When I shut off the van, the vibrations were obvious. This was a place I had been to many times, for about fifteen years, and I had never felt the electronic assault there. I told my friend that I had to leave. When I got to Lawrence, everything felt calm and normal.  

  Though I did not feel any disturbing vibrations in Lawrence during these past few months, I did notice an alarming increase in the level of surveillance over me. It was completely obvious on many occasions. The surveillance continued in Wichita. The only reason I can fathom for the ridiculous amount of surveillance I’ve been seeing, is that the government criminals know I am trying to tell this story. In December of 2018, I drove to South Texas to avoid the cold weather. I was sleeping in my van every night. The surveillance over me continued in San Antonio, Port Isabel, South Padre Island, and El Paso. I could give many details as to how I know I’ve been under constant surveillance, yet I may save all of that for another chapter. It is just too much information to keep cramming into this chapter, and I am tired of all of it.

  While I was still in Wichita during early December, neighbor Marc emailed me some ebooks from Author Richard Lighthouse. Here are a few excerpts from his book, Targeted Individuals & the Air Force Space Command:

  “These medical doctors, scientists, and former intelligence agents have made statements

supporting the evidence that microwave satellite attacks are real, and happening on a global

basis:

Dr John R. Hall, M.D., author (“New Breed: Satellite Terrorism in America”)

Dr Daniel Lebowitz, M.D. (Senate Committee presentation, 2014)

Dr Barrie Trower, government Scientist, microwave expert (youtube videos)

Dr Katherine Horton, Oxford University Scientist (youtube videos)

Dr Spencer Carter, M.D. (BiggerThanSnowden.com)

Dr Colin Ross, M.D., author (“The CIA Doctors”)

Dr Robert Duncan, author

Dr Doug Rokke, government Scientist

Dr Eric Karlstrom, Professor

Dr Nick Begich, Scientist

Dr Paul Batcho, government scientist

Dr Paul Marko, Psychologist

Dr Curtis Bennett, Professor

Dr Corkin Cherubini, author

Dr Matthew Aaron, Scientist

Dr Sean Andrews, Scientist

Willam Binney, NSA Whistleblower

Kirk Weibe, NSA Whistleblower

Karen Stewart, NSA Whistleblower

Carl Clark, CIA Whistleblower

Kevin Shipp, CIA Whistleblower

Mark Phillips, CIA Whistleblower

John DeCamp, Army intelligence Whistleblower”

    “There are 4 active-duty squadrons within the 50th Operations Group, under the Air Force

Space Command. According to the Linkedin Profile of Charles Shurchay (Superintendent -

Air Force Space Command) there are 1,300 personnel, 7 DoD Satellite constellations, and 9

weapon systems that are operated under the 50th Operations Group. Clearly, these are not

simply communications satellites.

  Many of these satellites are positioned in geosynchronous orbit, and are part of a network that

includes communications, tracking, and attack satellites. Using the precise GPS coordinates

of any Targeted Individual, the coordinates can be transferred to local cell towers or UAV

drones for additional targeting. The GPS coordinates are accurate to +/- 0.5 centimeters or

better, which allows different body parts to be targeted and attacked in a grisly, daily ordeal.”

    In another of his books, Cell Towers and Targeted Individuals, Richard claims that most of these attacks on targeted individuals are coming from microwave cell phone towers. This would make sense regarding the attacks on the farm that I felt were coming from the southeast, as there is an array of cell phone microwave towers that are east of the farm, extending southward. According to Richard Lighthouse, these microwave attacks are being orchestrated by the United States Air Force, under the direction of the CIA.

  After all of the strange incidents of surveillance in Texas, I began having thoughts that I need to get this chapter out on a public internet forum. Then maybe the government criminals will leave me alone and let me finish my book. I hope so. Or they might kill me. I hope not. My computer started doing strange things after two creeps sat suspiciously close to me at some outdoor tables on Padre Island. Then I tried connecting to the internet in Port Isabel at several locations with public wifi, but it would not connect. I tried several more times on the way back to San Antonio, but could not get connected to any public wifi. After attempting to connect from outside a store in El Paso, a creepy helicopter came along, going fairly low when it flew directly over my van. That’s when I got back on the highway and drove all the way to Las Cruces and beyond. I went as far west as Tucson, and south to Bisbee.

  Then I started back toward the east. From New Mexico in the final days of 2018, I decided to drive north and go all the way to my sister’s place in Colorado. The government criminals know I am here. I am hoping to throw this document out there on the internet soon. I am not looking for anyone’s sympathy, I just want people to know that these microwave attacks are happening. Treasonous criminals are wasting billions of tax dollars to assault, harass, and torture innocent civilians in this country and around the world.  

  Feeling extremely weary of writing this story, I want it to be over. Not only has this been the most depressing chapter in my book, it has also been the most depressing chapter of my life, and I want this sad chapter to end.