I showed my grandparents in their living room. Their flat screen television and cable box were emitting radio waves. I had my pocket size Amitron transistor radio set to a station that worked at my house but was only static at theirs. My grandfather put an earpiece in and could hear the static. As I waved the radio over the screen he could hear the feedback even though the screen was shut off. Then, there was the sound of TTY signal coming off of the cable box much louder. I told him it might not be healthy to sit in front of this equipment all of the time, what else could I do?
I replicated the same test on the computer I edit my videos on. It is an Apple G2 or G3 a 2-3,000 dollar computer my spouse's parents bought for her brand new. It was powerful enough to record and edit video and music on and surely a popular choice among independent artists. If only they knew my findings.
The computer came standard with wireless mouse and bluetooth keyboard. I had long ago eliminated these inefficient controls for wired USB models. The computer itself looks like a large 25 inch monitor that is several inches thick and has the classic Apple computer company logo at the bottom of the screen. As I ran the sport radio across the monitor there was minimal feedback. It should be mentioned that I had eliminated the wireless connectivity of our home internet but, the computer was powered off and plugged into a power source. I ran the radio across the apple symbol and hovered over it when I heard the intense feedback emitting from this area.
For some time, I've had theories about how domestic internet connections could become frozen and isolated to silence and analyze artists like me who want to force the masses to think and atone for their actions. Thinking of all of the hours I spent in front of this computer editing with an intense beam of radio signal pointed at my vocal cords put a new meaning to technological paralysis. The larynx and voice-box are often called the "Adam's apple" but, did this iconic computer symbol quite literally mean that the current pulsing through this machine was taking a vampirish bite from my vocal cords?
The Memorial Day weekend was to be spent at the in-law's beautiful new lake house and my frustration produced itself in the car ride north. In the luxury of her satellite radio system I was able to enjoy the full range of my vocal spectrum. After she raised her voice to the maximum within miles of our destination I decided to save my voice for the right time. I waited until we were dining outside at the pristine lakeside boating club before I spoke again. I was inebriated and watched him drink a glass of straight gin and begin a bottle of wine. I was so frustrated with my findings about his pharmaceutical company I must have peppered him with some insults. He postured and removed his sunglasses multiple times but nobody seems to remember exactly what was said. I canceled my meal when he became condescending and he attempted to bar me from drinking further. I didn't want to dine at a club that took drug money and didn't file its taxes on time even though my source said they were in a position to do so.
In the car I began my questioning process, I wanted to know if his mortgage lender had bought my mortgage while I was locked in solitary confinement. He didn't want to give up his mortgage lender and turned to take me to a hospital in which his brother was on the staff. I asked him why his son had a wedding at sea and two weddings in two states all to the same women. I wanted to know why he gave his son 3 vehicles and financed his lake house off of my mortgage and the fact that he hooked his daughter into his company's credit union at age 16. At a stoplight, believing that the speed limit was enforced from above, I exited the vehicle of a drunk driver and got to an eating establishment to use a phone. I had left my mobile at the lake house wishing to have a man to man confrontation. I called my grandparents to call my parents for a nearby friend's number to pick me up. I was caught between a corporate terrorist and a domestic terrorist and the latter, my father, wouldn't give the number up.
It would seem that Koller had already gotten to my parents, because when I began walking again Koller pulled up with his girls. He needed witnesses so he falsified a crime scene on the side of the road in front of the largest case of road sign vandalism on state property by exiting a vehicle to confront me. I've been locked in before so why would I get back into the vehicle in which he attempted to kidnap me?
I walked a bicycle trail in the dark for an hour only to find my parents waiting at the other side. My parents took me back to the lake house to get my phone and I decided to test both sets of parents to see what they would do if I gave them a grandchild that was a difficult child. The father-in-law had already tried to induct me into his hometown hospital system and his company provides every need for a mental facility, so I gave him a taste of what it sounds like in an asylum by testing the limitations of my vocal cords in their house.
I continued the experiment on the way back to my parents' house. When my father showed his agreement with drugging difficult children by hinting he was going to take me to someone to talk to, I began feeling trapped by the State Prison Guard. I was in the back seat and as we neared a country crossroad I tested his ability to drive while encountering loud noises. As he applied the brake at the stop sign I yelled, "Dad are you testing drugs on black people at that prison?" He seemed to manage the stop perfectly and I tried the door handle to get out and cool off. The vehicle had auto-locks when in gear and my father spiked the gas when he heard them engage. I slid to the other side and could see the moon outside the window. I thought, "what would the man in black do?" I reached out toward the window as a stray photon that had reflected off of the moon pierced the safety glass shattering it. My father looked back and decided to falsify a crime scene by running the vehicle off of the side of the road. He slammed the vehicle in park and I was out the door and registering with the nearest bloodhounds. The owner of the beasts may have been standing in his yard with an arm rocket slingshot, but I disappeared into the woods.
I watched in the dark as my parents' vehicle was towed back to the road and able to drive away mostly undamaged. I walked 8 miles to their house and in the morning offered to pay for damages. My mom became hysterical and had me picked up by the police and thrown into a hospital.
When I was processed into the Behavioral Health wing I noticed the wifi antennas locked in the ceiling and also my inability to engage my vocal cords. I had to write everything out to the doctors and staff. Maybe it was the Mucinex study I completed in college or the marijuana dissuasion study. No matter how hard I tried to speak I couldn't engage my vocal cords in that wireless zone.
I went abroad and sang about cash and I can sing like Cash, but what is the point if all the celebrities are locked away in this manner? The pay for their tour buses to have wifi that lets them speak. They pay for private jets with wifi in whcih their vocal cords work. Actors and Actresses think they have a voice for change in their trailer's wifi tending to their social media, but what if those accounts are isolated or frozen until enough interviews are lined up to explain their comment?
The paralysis started in the 1950's with psychology's introduction of ecstasy or MDMA as a marital aide. I've never taken it, but have heard that the experience is as if having an orgasm at the slightest touch of your body. After hearing this explanation I understand enough to know it was meant to be taken once a year so that both partners could experience orgasm simultaneously, a phenomenon not easily achieved between two human beings of any age or fervor. The drug has exploded as a recreational drug and is making gods out of indie rockstars and mainstream musicians alike.
These stars, can't control their label, can't control their management, and can't control their fans tripping or rolling on MDMA during their performances. The fans want to "feel the music from every sensory aspect possible", but they really want to build gods to their technocratic future. They bring their smartphone tuned to one frequency into a concert and pop their pill to sync them with the artist busting their ass on stage. The fans want synchronicity even if it means stealing an artist's voice. The artist has an endurance rush on stage while thousands of fans are orgasming in the same atmosphere. The artist is swept offstage to be managed and micromanaged and if they don't "play ball" or sign on the line they could end up in a psych ward unable to speak or step-down facility like I'm in now until their next tour. Protected and well taken care of until they are propped up to say what the technocrats want or get to the practice venue.
I've never tried ecstasy or MDMA but it would seem responsible users of a drug known to give the sensation of orgasm when someone even brushes against you would set a baseline before indulging in the drug. What I mean is that users should actually orgasm directly before the drug takes effect to set a baseline for their body rather than popping a pill and walking into a concert or rave party to "be one with the artist." A drug so powerful and easily concealed is much different than the popular recreational drugs of the 60's and 70's even if MDMA is a safer version of ecstasy. Trapping artists in radio frequency environments or psych wards is no way to produce the intelligent change this planet needs. If you are a stadium filling artist that feels frightened by these notions or is just tired of being managed and micromanaged you could sign with my label. It's Plot M, I'll plot your course, but I won't choose your destiny.