April 13, 2016 from a Facebook post before we moved to Denver a week later

And so this move is upon us, my son and I.  Since that dramatic set up divorce from my beautiful Russian Svetlana my path has been adventurous and fat more perilous than I realized.  

So I sit cleaning which I have been conditioned for quite some time to dislike, planning which expenses to pay and when.

And just now I popped my head into my son's bedroom where this 15 year old sleeps after another dull day in the local high school.  And I see him.  I see how he depends on me, as I once depended on my parents.

I know now that my father was not quite the man I wanted him to be not was my mother a decent person by modern standards.  They are gone.  Let them rest.

And I see my son sleeping and I know that I am doing the correct things so that he has his shot at life.  My confidence was never in short supply; my maturity likely was.

So if you read this simply take care of your children.  Don't be lazy.  I was led down the most amazing path.  I don't begrudge those who participated in this nasty conspiracy; they have their reasons.

So dad somehow set me up as an MK Ultra candidate.  Now a few conversations at our kitchen table with him and his scotch and me back from my job at a drive in movie theater make more sense.

So should I get upset and run to the press, etc.? Unlikely, not my style.  Instead, a quiet life and be dad.  Plus our media so corrupt.  

Don't let my son down as my family let me down.  Simple stuff.