FBI Gangstalked in the Dentist's Chair in Vegas in December 2016

FBI Gangstalked in the Dentist's Chair in Las Vegas, 

Absolute Dental, 

945 South Rainbow Boulevard

Dr. Joe Mir

November, 2016.  In order to avoid being arrested by police in Denver who were working hand in hand with the same FBI that was sending my son synthetic weed and speed (called research chemicals) in the mail in hopes that I would cross some line, or being intoxicated unable to defend myself, I took self and son on an impromptu tour of the American West.

After stops in Four corners, Sedona, Arizona, the Grand Canyon, we hit Las Vegas at night descending into that light filled desert city.  We stayed at two hotels so as to take advantage of our flight from corrupt gangstalking police.  The Luxor and another one that I don't recall.  

During that visit I was in the process of attempting to reconcile with my fraudster Russian FSB trained honeypot trap wife Svetlana Macy.  My bet was after three years, she hadn't seen her son in two years, she hadn't gotten my US assets and was unlikely to, the whole CIA plot of which she was party to, to turn me into a sex crazed, drug addled, patsy for an assassination attempt on Obama had fizzled unspectacularly two years earlier, and so maybe we could simply forgive, maybe never forget, as who could?  Maybe move on and get old together, support our son, whom she had sent at me as a weapon, and maybe just maybe see some grandkids and get old together.

She had agreed to take part in this sick plot in her early 20s.  Here we were over 20 years later, perhaps both of us mellowed a bit, certainly I was.  I viewed my three year stay in the states under corrupt FBI surveillance as a sort of therapy.  Why had I been so driven?  Why had I needed to sleep with over 400 women and more than a few men?  Why had I worked so hard?  I got answers, some unpleasant, and all frightening.  Confirmation of my theory that my being 'targeted' went back to my father in the OSS in the middle east flying Jews into the new state of Israel in 1948's Operation Magic Carpet would be confirmed in Salt Lake City in a week's time.

In Las Vegas I got a tooth ache and decided upon seeing a dentist.  My son, who had pulled a knife on me during our visit to the Grand Canyon.  Why?   I dared to reduce my potential legal vulnerabilities by throwing away a small bag of weed bought in Colorado, this bag of weed illegal in Arizona.  

I had limited further his and his mother's opportunities to get me in violation of my plea agreement with the Victor NY court and he was in response quite upset.  

My son Nick had gotten me arrested once and I had taken my lessons not to trust my 16 year old son, regardless of father's love.  

People do nasty things in this world I had by then learned.  

I had to make it arrest free through til mid December so that the fraudulent misdemeanor child endangerment charge would be discharged.  

I found a dentist.  Absolute Dental on South Rainbow Boulevard.  I popped in and they took me, repairing the damaged tooth and agreeing to give me caps for my well worn 51 year old teeth.  I thought two advantages from this, 1. As I was intent on winning back the heart of my Russian ex-wife even though she had betrayed me in manner dark and foul, and believing that the storm had passed, Obama out of office, Trump elected and set to start his new role in February 2017, bright capped teeth might not hurt, and 2. More time in Vegas gave me all the excuse I needed to avoid California and her medical legal weed which was rambunctious about and intended to push me to illegally acquire some for him, which would put me in contrarian position to the law.  Staying in Nevada kept us out of California.  Nick wanted to drive to Los Angeles.  We never made it that far thankfully.

At the dentist office I filled out the forms, I noticed that one section had without any action on my part had been filled out.  

Specifically a complaint about a pain in my right hip was noted.  I had only recently discovered this pain and had only told my son about it in the car as we drove.  

The pain is now gone that I no longer drive, but three years ago I would be set upon by a sharp stinging unexpected jolt in my right hip, on the outside.  

Who had known?

How had they known?

Who had filled out this paperwork presented to me for my completion?

After my initial session I chatted with the receptionist and a dental assistant named Jessica.  

Jessica was an attractive Iraqi Christian young lady and memorable as she was pregnant and noticably so.  As the receptionist and I sorted out my bill and enjoyed light conversation focused on her energy drink, Jessica interrupted our conversation, not in anyway dramatic or rude, and segued into conversation about synthetic cannabinoids and bath salts.  

The sorts of things my son had been getting in the mail, and materials Adam Stanhope had with aforethought tricked me into sampling back in September of 2011, the month my mother died with me holding her hand.

I hadnt been able to read Jessica so easily as she was Iraqi.  I was best at reading 'tells' of North Americans.  

FBI, national in scope, had kept their eyes on us in each state.  I recalled staying by the Grand Canyon at a decent hotel and gettin real close the the director of security with our eyes locked.  I could read in his eyes that he viewed me with particular interest and thought me a sex crazed, drug addled, almost child abuser, guy on the run.  

In my view, he had been briefed as had Jessica and others at Absolute Dental by FBI officers using my 'parallel construction' file.  

I was indeed under double secret  surveillance, to paraphrase the term from classic comedy flick, 'Animal House'.  Who was my judge Werner?  I will likely never know.  

Throughout our stay in Las Vegas we took in shows, Beatles LOVE, the Michael Jackson tribute show, Blue Man Group, David Copperfield.  I had found a ticket seller, a tall Black man, on craigslist with unbelievable prices for these tickets named Robert.  We bought from him repeatedly.  And at the Michael Jackson show, the coupld sitting to our left was just too friendly, much like undercover FBI agent Coy Ebell had been in Denver.  FBI had also chosen to put an attractive, though poorly trained piece of blonde frmale bait a row ahead of us, having her jump to the music to show off her womanly assets.  And she kept appearing slightly ahead of us as we made our way out, bait waiting to be taken.  I paid attention, was impressed by the capability of the FBI, dodged and weaved, incurred absolutely no contact with this honeypot trap and got us back to our hotel room.

Back at the dentist office I met Dr. Joe Mir.  Joe was ethnically Indian, though an American citizen and had served in Iraq and held a position in the Army reserves.  Dr. Joe was a bit too friendly, and I was all sorts of chatty enjoying human contact, wondering what tell would reveal Dr. Joe.

Then it came.  Fluidly in our conversation he added in a bit of an out of the blue manner something that Doug Boyce had told me two years earlier in his home in Virginia Beach before he had revealed himself as corrupt.  Dr. Joe segued into the topic of a human life costing only 53 cents, the cost of a bullet to the US government, this phrase the exact one Doug Boyce had used while making the point at the dire cheapness of life.  

From that moment I viewed Dr. Joe's friendly pose as a mask, a pose indeed.  We discussed the possibility he might visit Svetlana and I in Russia.  I heartily offered him the use of our spare bedroom and he heartily agreed.  He played on my earlier fears of not having enough money, a theme Adam Stanhope had played at, and began discussing the opportunities to run some sort of import/export business together.  I played along conversationally, laughing inside at how much I had learned by going to the dentist. 

Another dentist, thus one Boston trained, WASPy, and with a story of a Russian girlfriend, participated in the project that was my mouth.  His name I dont recall.  He seemed to have a more senior role in the organization and was faster than the others in the office.  In conversation he said his speed sometimes put others ill at ease.  I thought that interesting.

He went further to describe that he had once bedded a Russian beauty, though upon learning who it was for whom she worked, he broke the relationship, dropping her as a hot potato.  He never did tell me what Russian, but his tale had been from the early 90s and so seemed reasonable.  This while he was a dentistry student in Boston.  He since married another girl and made the point he had forgotten all the names of all the women who had come before.  If this were relationship advice, solid stuff.  Were my attempt to reconcile with Sveta to have a chance my behaviour must be faithful, loyal, and true.  

I viewed this conversation that he brought to the table an attempt either his or more likely that of FBI to build a sort of understanding or camaraderie.  

Why?

Still don't know.  A moral obligation?  A smoke screen?  Humanity leaking through a bureaucratic law enforcement monster?  

Later on our last stop on this exodus from entrapment, we stopped in Salt Lake City at a downtown Marriott.  Nice place.  I liked each of these Western cities for different reasons.

As described in other blog posts, i believe the reasoning for my 'targeting' goes back to my father in the middle east in 1948 after WW2, where he was employed by Alaska Airlines to transport Jews out of places like Yemen and Ethiopia into the new state of Israel.  My father told me very late one night of how he had been attacked by an Arab in an alleyway and using a lead handled walking stick, had struck this man in the head, instantly killing him.  He left the dead man on the street and seemed to regret it.

After my arrest in September 2015 based on cops coming to ny Victor, NY home because of a 911 call the dispatcher claimed had come from my phone, this another tell pointing to corrupt FBI involvement, I wracked my brains to figure out like so many 'targeted individuals' why me?  

It seemed the further back in my life I went in my mind, the more answers I accessed.  

Upon Doug Boyce' revelation that I had 'misperceived' much in my life that July morning of 2014 after being gangstalked by unmarked FBI vehicles too numerous to count, though I put them at about 40, I had gained a new perspective, a prism of sorts, a key to unlock events in my life.  Some are described in a more recent blog post about how CIA manufactures manchurian candidates like myself.  

At the Marriott in Salt Lake City, I checked self and son in, went to the room.  I decided to return to the front desk with a question I don't recall.  

Before me in line were two slightly confused Alaska Airlines pilots.  They were describing to the manager how they had gone to the hotel where they usually overnighted only to be told they had no reservation there, but had one at this Marriott, a place they had never stayed before.  They went further to exclaim that in all their years with Alaska Airlines nothing of this sort had ever happened to them, never.  

I had my answer.  

Its manner of delivery of course deniable.  

CIA had decided to tell me that yes my 'targeting' went back to before I was born, to my young father in 1948.  At 29 he killed a man.  He was likely OSS and had carried the lead weighted walking stick as a weapon of self defense.  

Doug Boyce and I had taken a brief trip to the outskirts of Miami in that summer of 2014 before Svetlana's revelatory phone call, and before the unmarked FBI cars began of me their mad pursuit.  

During that road trip Doug described much about spycraft from his time after Russia as a soldier in Afghanistan, as a security attache at two US Consular offices, one in Japan, the other in the South of France, prior to joining the NCIS.  His undercover weapon of choice was a baseball bat.  

One could carry such an item with no rhyme, reason, or license.  This is what my father had clearly done back in 1948, sixty six years earlier.  

For what 29 year old man in good health needs a walking stick?  Especially one with a lead weighted handle.  

No, my father was trained, much like Doug.  

Had my dodging, weaving, and using self as bait to gain my son, to expose this plot most heinous garnered a measure of respect from my attackers?  

Or were they simply playing by a book I've never read, and playing another psy op upon me, getting me to reduce my defenses, return to Russia, there to be nearly killed by son and wife on January 24th, 2017, in a round of kitchen 'street theater'?

Could be.

I remain in the game and am grateful for this life most amazing.

Had they killed Obama, installed Biden, and blamed me, how our world would be teetering faster to another place my father described to me late one night at our round wooden kitchen table surrounded by tobacco smoke stained walls.  He said impromptu, son every generation needs its war.  This guidance spooky and by me not understood til now, echoes the message of a well watched YouTube video entitled, 'Everything is a Rich Man's Trick'.