3 Americas: More Truth Than We Can Handle 04 Down the Oregoon Trail, Into the Valley of Sickness

(Last updated: November 10, 2023)
3 Americas: More Truth Than We Can Handle
Chapter 04
Down the Oregoon Trail, Into the Valley of Sickness
by DR Wolfe

{As I continue a full revision, this is one of the new chapters from my revised autobiography, “3 Americas”.}

(Includes strong language.)

“You got any money, I need beer money!” An angry voice said, as I felt his hand push against my chest.

Taking a quick step back, I instinctively grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him past me, and down. This was an old wrestling move I hadn’t used for years, but as long as you can still move, you never forget an athletic move you’ve practiced hundreds of times.

Before the man touched me, I had heard someone arguing with Olga, who was walking about ten feet in front of me. Olga Espinola was my roommate who was a blind Cuban from Boston.

We had met in Atlanta through a group called the Blind Adventurers. The Blind Adventurers was a hiking club for the blind and visually-impaired that traveled and explored the mountains and woods of north Georgia and southern Tennessee.

So when the man came up to me, and put his hand on my chest, I immediately assumed he may have a weapon in his other hand. Sometimes assumptions are right. And if one is blind, if grabbed it’s usually better to assume the worse possibility, rather than being surprised.

Quickly I dropped my cane and grabbed his arm with my other hand. Then I pulled him past me in an arm drag move and forced him to the ground. Then partly out of fear, and partly out of anger, I climbed on top of him and began pounding on his head with my fist, as a small crowd from the High School began to gather. Church Hill athletic fields were directly across the street from where this happened.

After getting off the bus, we had turned up Churchill Street, and were on our way home when it happened. The man who tried to rob us that day was the same man who had tried to grab my folding cane twenty minutes earlier on the city bus.

When he attempted to take away my white cane, the driver promptly pulled over the bus and kicked him off the bus, but apparently, to our misfortune it had happened a few blocks before our stop.

Apparently, when the man got off the bus he must have seen us get off at the next stop and ran ahead. So when we turned down Church Hill Street, he ran ahead of us and waited to ambush us.

The Willamette Valley, the “Valley of Sickness,” as the Native-Americans called it, runs down the western side of the state. It runs from Portland to somewhere north of Roseburg, about two hundred miles from end to end.

The Cascades runs along the east side of the valley , and the coastal range and the Pacific Ocean is to the west. The 16,000 foot Mount Hood, like a vulture, sits at the northeast corner of the Cascade Mountain Range and glares down over Portland and Clackamas County. While the Three Sisters, a combination of three smaller mountains sits at the southeast end of the valley.

The Sisters are these three narrow mountains about two thousand feet high and appear as though they were three hooded sisters trying to escape from the evil that lurks below. The evil that would soon destroy my life and steal my son.

Because the air was trapped in the valley during the hot summers, the area was known to the Native-Americans to cause a sickness, if they stayed in the valley to long. Today this is still true, although this sickness that infects the people of the valley exists for a different reason.

In the book, “Thunder in the Mountains,” Daniel Sharfstein wrote about the heroic battle of Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce tribe and their gallant fight to hold on to the land east of the Cascades, home of their ancestors. He writes of how the military acted with savage brutality and deceitfulness, and broke almost every promise or treaty they made on behalf of the United States. Oregon wasn’t unique in this way, as far as the brutality among the government and settlers.

In what was the Oregon territories. Sharfstein tells of how the chief of the Walla Walla tribe was treated when he surrendered to the military twenty years earlier, and explains the basis for the Native-American’s mistrust of all white people.

“At the battle of Walla Walla in 1855 the chief of the Walla Walla tribe had surrendered with a white flag. Within a day, his guards had crushed his skull with their rifle butts, then scalped him, cut off his ears, and distributed his flesh as trophies.” And maybe we should ask, who were the real savages?

Sharfstein writes that the Nez Perce tribe had lived in the Wallowa Valley about three hundred miles east of Eugene, for thousands of years, similar to the Palestinians in Palestine. When the white settlers came into the Wallowa Valley they began settling in the fertile farm land east of the Cascades, and began to encroach on Indian hunting grounds.

Similarly, the Palestinians allowed Jews from eastern Europe to settle in Palestine in the early 1900’s. Just like the European Jews erroneous claim to the land, the settlers claimed because of Manifest Destiny they had a religious right to settle on the land, and quickly began putting up fences.

The Nez Perce began cutting holes in the fences so they could hunt, and eventually a warrior was killed by one of the settlers. Similarly, like the Israeli Death Squads did to the Palestinians in 1947, and again in 2023, the Nez Perce were ordered to leave the valley or die.

Just like the brutal, misguided settlers of Oregon did in the 1870’s, the Jews of occupied Palestine are genociding the Palestinians trapped in Gaza, the largest outdoor prison in the world.

Chief Joseph tried to negotiate peace with the people of Oregon over, and over, and over, but the settlers and government of the United States would not relent. Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce refused to leave the land where their ancestors were buried..

Oregon Supreme Court Justice Joseph Wilson asked the military to intervene on behalf of the settlers and the conflict began. After several settlers along the Salmon River were killed in retaliation for killing a member of the Nez Perce tribe, the army was brought in to force the transfer of Chief Joseph and his tribe onto the reservation. And so began the final Indian war and the historic chase across Idaho and Montana.

Before I understood the history of how vicious and narrow-minded some of these Oregoons were toward men with disabilities, as well as blacks and Native-Americans, I made my home in the valley of sickness, and eventually lost my son to these monsters.

One of the most ruthless persecutors in Oregon, Douglas Harcleroad, had one of his minions talk us into letting the guy who attacked us off with treatment, because he had a serious drinking problem and apparently, a politically influential father.

Not surprisingly, three weeks later our dog, Diva, was poisoned and died. And after Olga called me from the animal hospital and gave me the sad news, I immediately began to suspect our assailant was involved.

To my surprise, Olga quickly, almost too quickly, dismissed this idea saying, “I don’t think so. The vet said it was a biological poisoning.”

Immediately all sorts of red flags went off for me. Why was she defending a man who had attacked two blind people? And why would it matter if he used something biological rather than something chemical to kill our dog? It didn’t make sense. The dog was dead, and someone killed her, that seemed obvious to me. But Olga didn’t seem worried that he might come after us.

Unless, she knew who really killed the dog?

Anytime Diva had to use the bathroom, Olga always walked her outside. She never let Diva out unless she was on a leach. So Olga would have known if the dog was eating something she shouldn’t. And Olga would have immediately stopped her. So I know it was unlikely Diva was accidentally poisoned.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t go to the hospital with Olga and the dog, and maybe my sub-conscious brain knew something was very wrong.

Just a few hours before the dog died, Olga had made fish for dinner. And my fish, which I ignorantly gave to the dog, was extremely under cooked. And now that I think about it, the fish had been soaked in lemon. A whole lot of lemon.

When I mentioned the fish was under cooked , she agreed, but seemed distracted and maybe a little nervous. Olga had cooked fish for us dozens and dozens of times, and she had never once under cooked our fish.

She didn’t stop me when I automatically scraped my plate into Diva’s bowl, as I had done dozens of times before. But maybe, Olga didn’t want to seem alarmed and give herself away, if she had tried to poisoned me, and had used the lemon to cover it up. The women of the Northwest are known for poisoning people, this is well documented. And 80% of murder cases using poison are never solved.

Maybe if she put some other kind of poison in with the fish, she could blame the under-cooked fish for causing my death? It would be an honest accident, she would say. And she could also say it wasn’t intentional. And knowing what I know about the corruption in Lane County and throughout Oregon, the County Medical Examiner would probably go along with Harcleroad and claim it was an unfortunate accident, and never do an ortopcy.

I always wondered, was the poison fish intended for me? Obviously, she wouldn’t say anything, since Diva didn’t get sick and die until later that evening, or she might have given herself away.

When Diva died that evening, Olga immediately decided to have Diva cremated. so if I got suspicious there would be no evidence to test, I do remember, after dinner she put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and started it.

Maybe I was the one who was supposed to die that night? I know sometimes Olga was very jealous when other women were around, Olga knew I felt our relationship wasn’t as serious as she may have wanted.

I was suspicious when it happened, but now I’m pretty sure she wanted to kill me. So the next question is, who else was in on it. Let’s speculate.

I suppose the women at the Oregon Commission for the Blind, and their friends in the disability industry, like Rosalie Gallaher and Gweneth van Frank Carlson, would be the first co-conspirators I would suspect. But the anti-marijuana DA, Douglas Harcleroad, would have done everything to defend Olga, I’m sure of that. After all, she was an Ivy League graduate, and that itself carry’s a lot of weight. Especially, when the boyfriend liked to smoke weed.

Harcleroad, the Eugene cops, and some of their friends in the media, including the Alpha Dopes’ Lardass Larson, who worked in Eugene at the time, hated everyone who was involved in the movement to legalize marijuana, even if it was just medical.

I’ll write more about Lardass, the fattest guy in radio, in another chapter, and what his Alpha Dope friends did to me. But it was neo-con, fascist Loren Parks who was primarily responsible for funding the war on marijuana smokers in Oregon, and the war on poor men, who overwhelmingly enjoyed this amazing plant.

An exclusive Republican backer, Parks established a psychological Research Foundation in 1977 in Oregon. The foundation’s web site, psychresearch.com, offers advice on how to help the mind overcome physical and mental ailments, rather than using medical marijuana.

On his twisted web site, Parks also boasts that he can “hypnotize women into becoming sex machines.”

He wrote “A woman who arouses quickly and climaxes intensely and repeatedly is a real joy to be in bed with. I have encountered few of them EXCEPT those I created using the sex techniques I’m about to tell you about.

According to Wikipedia, Parks also, as an uncertified Hypnotherapist, began to “treat” people individually with his crazy sex theories. This surfaced in a $1 million lawsuit filed in 1983 by a Washington County woman who accused Parks of, essentially, using his hypnotherapy techniques to seduce her. And it should be noted that this was going on in Washington County, under the infamous District Attorney, Bob “Hermann Monster”,, who is linked in covering up two other cases involving child pornography, including father Israel Bein who put a hidden camera in the boy’s restroom at St. Mary’s Church, located in Sherwood, Oregon.

After a second lawsuit against Parks involving sexual harassment surfaced, it became public that the work environment in Aloha at his medical equipment company was nearly intolerable due to a flood of suggestive E mails, some involving photographs of bestiality, necrophilia and violence to women’s breasts, according to an article in Willamette Week.

Along with backing every anti-crime bill in Oregon, curiously Parks has had a personal vendetta against anyone accused of any sort of sex crime. Perhaps this is because his own guilt over being a pervert, something to do with his childhood growing up in Kansas City, perhaps. We know that Kansas City was a mob town, from the mid-1840’s through the mid-1900, filled with gamblers and sexual degenerates. So why wouldn’t Parks, who grew up in this environment, act like a mobster and a pervert?

While he’s sending out perverted pics of sexually abusing women and animals, according to the BOLI suit, he’s also targeting people accused of collecting child pornography. This is a curious contrast, isn’t it?

Maybe he’s the one with a guilt complex that goes back to his younger life, something his research seems to focus on? And maybe he’s been paying off mothers with scholarships to help him deal with this guilt. He appears to target women who are vulnerable and who have been in some sort of treatment program, like my future wife, Christel. And we know he targets women with young female children.

Parks, a self-described “dirty old man,” who apparently suffers from delusions of sexual grandeur, we know would do anything to excuse his own bad behavior by targeting men who have no money to defend themselves. So unable to afford bail, once being over charged and arrested, these men are always forced to accept a plea bargain and our quickly labeled as a “registered sex offender,” sometimes for life.

Parks has funded a number of campaigns for Oregon’s dirtiest DA’s, including Douglas “Harcletoad,” Bob “Hermann Monster,” Alex “Grave Gardner,” John “Dirty Foote,”and Joshua “Luger Marquis,” who we know would all do anything for Parks and his fellow wealthy perverts.

Here’s more proof. Parks created a medical device company, Parks Medical Equipment Research Inc., who created a device called the plethysmograph. This is used to measure the blood flow to a person’s genitals. In other words, it allegedly measures a person’s sexual arousal, in both men and women.

At a cost of about $300 or $400, which the registered sex offender is forced to pay each time, they are required to strap this device too their penis and shown child pornography, to see if they become aroused, according to Parks. But would if the test is rigged, who would know?

If the person, currently on parole or probation, refuses to take the test, they are sent back to jail, and brought before the same ruthless Circuit Court Judge, who blindly signed off on the persecutor’s dirty deal.

You notice, no one in the media is asking where does Loren Parks actually get the child porn. Does he make it himself, or does he get it from Oregon’s clergy?

In yet another example of an obvious conflict of interest, there’s a direct link between Parks making more money on his device, and Oregon getting more men on the registered sex offender list.

Consequently, that makes Lardass and the sluts in our corporate media very happy. Simply by listening to them talk about any allegation involving sex, we know this is true.

Any time Parks funds initiatives that make the penalties harsher, which forces men to often accept unfair plea bargains, he is directly benefiting himself, financially. And he’s protecting real sexual predators, like himself and the former-governor of New York, from being exposed.

Getting back to the killing of our dog, I can hear the District Attorney saying, “It was a horrible tragedy, but obviously it was an accident. There’s absolutely no evidence that Olga, who is blind by the way, intentionally serve her boyfriend fish that wasn’t completely cooked. Obviously, if he weren’t stoned at the time, he would have probably noticed something was wrong with the fish and stopped eating. Nevertheless, it’s a terrible tragedy.”

And her friends from Wellesley and the Commission would have backed Olga up, by saying how careless I was. And making up all sorts of tales about me.

Given my own history of political activism, it was a curious coincidence that I met someone like Olga, given her own unusual political history, constantly rubbing elbows with the Boston and Wellesley elite.

In 1958, the entire Espinola family was expelled from Cuba by Fidel Castro. While I don’t know if Olga’s father was one of the corrupt members of the Cuban government, I do know that he had been a prominent legislator in the Cuban parliament under the control of Meyer Lansky and the Jewish Mob, who ran Boston and Cuba at the time.

Castro said, the theft of the country’s wealth by the politicians and the mob is unacceptable. So he started a revolution. The result was that Olga’s family was all flown to Boston with nothing but the clothes on their back.

Castro could have killed all of them. That’s what usually happens when there’s a revolution and the politicians in charge are accused of having looted the country’s wealth. So at least on this one point, that Fidel Castro was a brutal dictator when he took over wasn’t true.

Curiously, the Espinola’s poverty didn’t last long. When we met, her father had passed, away although she said he had worked all his life as a janitor, and apparently accumulated a considerable wealth.

When I met Olga, her mother, as well as her brother and his wife lived in a very expensive three story estate in Jamaica Plains, worth about a million dollars. And unlike most Americans, who are born blind, Olga seemed to receive a tremendous amount of extra benefits and education growing up from the American government, including attending a very expensive private Ivy League school.

Olga was right about one thing, Castro became a brutal dictator, but in the beginning he was a populist and a socialist.

He saw how Lansky and the Jewish mob out of Boston had bought off the Cuban legislature, including perhaps Mr. Espinola, and were using the casinos to steal most of the prosperity from the fertile lands and people of Cuba. So he, and twelve other brave men took the country back!

After Castro and his twelve followers were able to easily remove the mob and corrupt government officials, he expelled all of the members of the legislature and their families, including the Espinola’s.

After a hundred unsuccessful attempts on his life, and the pro-longed attack on his country’s economy by the Zionist controlled government of America, he slowly became a ruthless leader, trusting no one except his family and his closest colleagues.

Elliott Abrams, a loyal Jew, and our government, the United States of America, is doing the same thing today to Venezuela, that we did to Cuba, in order to install yet another American puppet in Latin America. Yet the neo-cons complain about illegal immigration,even though most of these people are fleeing these puppet governments America created.

So, after being targeted by America and the mob, Castro joined forces with the former-Soviet Union. In exchange for their support and protection, Russia demanded that he declare himself and his country as being Marxist-communist, so he went along with this plan and became America’s most hated villain.

Similar to how the Jewish, “capitalist” mob runs our media today, Castro was, and continues to be, portrayed as being the villain…when the truth, just like me, is the complete opposite.

Here’s a couple of interesting facts involving Olga, Boston, NPR, and the Jewish mob.

After 9-11, the corporate media never once brought up that the F.B.I. Director, Robert Mueller, (a.k.a. “Bobby Mole”) had previously been working as a federal agent with a brutal Boston mobster named Whitey Bulger, who was recently murdered in prison.

Thanks to the alternative media, today we know a few more details about these two men, and their relationship while living in Boston.

According to the podcast, “Dirty Rats,” apparently Mueller assisted Bulger and the mob in covering up the killing of dozens and dozens of people in and around Boston. Then apparently Bobby Mueller and the F.B.I. arranged to help Bulger escape to California and avoid prosecution.

Bulger was able to successfully hide out for the next sixteen years, until he pissed off his girlfriend, and she turned him in. But one must ask, how could our federal government not find a mobster like Whitey Bulger for so long?

The modern mob of today, working under the protection of the government, would much prefer their victims kill themselves, or make it seem that way, like Gary Webb and Phillip Marshall. And that’s apparently been the plan for me…since the poison fish didn’t work.

Along with attending Wellesley, where Hillary Clinton also graduated, Olga wrote two books. Including a book about technology for the blind with a woman from National Public Radio in Boston.

When Olga and I lived in Atlanta we attended the National Federation for the Blind (NFB) convention in New Orleans. We got up around 4:30 a.m. to catch our flight. I had only flown once before, and was amazed that the plane with nine rows across. Although there was hardly anyone on the flight, and we had the five middle seats to ourselves.

But neither one of us could sleep, so we tried to catch a nap when we got to New Orleans. First we locked the door, but apparently forgot to put out the “Do not disturb” sign.

Subsequently, the maid walked in on us. She knocked, but unlocked the door at the same time, and we were embarrassed that she didn’t give us enough time to respond before unlocking and opening the door. So we got dressed and notified the front desk that we would be switching hotels. We didn’t ask for any damages or any other form of compensation, simply informed the manager of what happened. Then we cancelled our reservation and waited outside for a cab.

Apparently, fearing a lawsuit, the hotel manager informed the President of NFB, Kenneth Jernigan, what happened. In all of his arrogance Jernigan decided to make an example of us. He was given our names, and obviously, recognized Olga’s name, because of the two books about blindness technology she had written.

We were sitting in one of the convention hall rooms, and there were about seventy-five people present. Jernigan came in on the arm of “Mrs. Jernigan #4”, and addressed the audience.

“Yesterday we had an unfortunate incident at one of the hotels serving the convention. I understand that there was a couple that just couldn’t wait to jump in the sack, and forgot to lock the door.” The crowd laughed, while Olga and I remained silent.

His suggestion that we couldn’t wait to have sex is absurd, since Olga and I lived together and could have sex any time we wanted. This seemed especially rude, and perhaps a reflection of his own dirty mind.

It’s important to note, Jernigan has had four different wives, and was said to have cheated on at least one of them.

For him to assume that we carelessly left the door unlocked while we engaged in this sort of debauchery, having sex in the middle of the afternoon, is ridiculous!

But King Jernigan, as Marc Maurer and many of the elitists with NFB would call him, isn’t the honorable gentlemen he pretended to be.

According to an article in the Baltimore Sun, he was receiving a six figure salary and living the high life off the backs of the blind. Most of whom were on a fixed income. While Jernigan’s living in a 23 room mini-mansion.

It was common knowledge among the sighted that he was rarely seen traveling alone, even though he wrote a book called, ironically , “Walking Alone and Marching Together”.

The Federation under Jernigan was a corporate whore, taking money from who ever would give it, no matter how sleazy. At the same time they were working against the interests of the blind, helping the corporations and the government save money by not providing these costly accommodations, Which, as the example below proves, were desperately needed.

Under Jernigan, they opposed putting bumps on the edge of the track for light rail trains. When a woman from Boston, and then another woman from D.C., were killed by trains when they fell off the edge, the government changed its position. The U.S. Department of Transportation decided to make this accommodation, despite the NFB’s fierce opposition.

They also opposed making bills different sizes. Arguing that the blind should learn to adapt to the world, not the other way around. But apparently this didn’t apply to Kenneth Jernigan himself, who apparently couldn’t walk anywhere in public unless he was leaching onto the arm of some woman.

But the most arrogant thing the NFB ever did, and still does, is not allowing its members to belong to any other blindness organization. Since there’s no way the national office can enforce this policy, they told the presidents of each chapter to find out who belonged to “the other group”, and make them choose.

Obviously, they were targeting the members of the American Council for the Blind (ACB), and here’s why.

This policy was adopted by Jernigan and the other elitists at NFB because some of its members became discontented with the positions of the NFB toward people who were totally-blind. So they formed another group, the ACB. Many states, such as Florida, refuse to enforce the federation’s exclusive membership policy.

However, neither group has very many active members, as compared to the actual number of blind and visually-impaired people in the United States. There are only a few dozen decision makers in the NFB, and there are approximately 6.5 million blind and visually-impaired people in America. So for either group to pretend they represent the blind community, as the NFB often does, is absurd.

From the very moment I began my relationship with the Oregon Commission for the Blind in the fall of 1998 there were things that bothered me about the agency, and its true intent. First, my counselor had made several odd comments to me about Kentucky, and once even saying something out of the blue about “going after people with deep pockets”. Then one day she began sharing private information with me about another female client, and her troubled marriage. She obviously wanted us to hook up, and sent us on two over night trips to Portland, alone.

To understand this conflict with the vocational rehabilitation industry, Let me go back to the fall of 1999 when things fell apart. About a year earlier, I attended a small business training conference in Portland. Not surprisingly, neither Linda Mock or her “partner in crime”, Lynda van Doren, bothered to have any of the written materials put into braille for the two blind clients who attended. Apparently, she was too busy entertaining the Governor, John Kitzhaber. Or that’s the rumor that was going around. Kitzhaber had promoted her in 2000 to head the state’s blind agency.

In December of 1999 I wrote to the OCB’s Assistant Administrator, Linda Mock, asking to re-attend the exact same training conference being held again the following month, now that presumably the materials would be available in an accessible format to the agency’s totally blind clients.

Apparently, Mock didn’t appreciate me pointing out this undisputed fact and her own incompetency, in preparing for the conference, and sent me a nasty E mail in retaliation, that according to my speech program began, “Dear Mr. Boner!”

Not surprisingly, when I filed a complaint of sexual harassment to her boss, Charlie Young, and appealed her decision to not allow me to attend, he claimed her sexual abusive E mail was a “simple” typing error and denied my appeal to re-attend the small business training conference.

In response, I asked Young for a copy of my file, and stated my intentions to seek vocational services in the future through the state’s vocational rehabilitation agency [Voc Rehab], where all other disabled Oregonians receive services.

Based on the next letter I got from him, I knew Young was REALLY pissed off about me challenging his absolute authority over the blind in Oregon.

In his letter, he arrogantly wrote back saying Oregon state law prohibited me from receiving any vocational services from any other state rehabilitation agency, other than the Commission. He went on to explain, in the most unfriendly terms, I would also need to send him $220 if I wanted a copy of my personal file, to hopefully find out exactly what the bigots from Bigotucky had told them about me.

So I appealed to the State Attorney General, Hardy Myers, and the governor, regarding my right to seek services from Voc Rehab and to be charged such an exorbitant fee for my own personal file. I also included a copy of Mock’s sexually offensive E mail and demanded she be properly disciplined.

Charlie Young was partly right about this unknown Oregon statute, but that didn’t make it constitutional, like so many of the laws in Oregon. Not surprisingly, the bigots at the Oregon Legislature in Salem had passed a law barring any visually-impaired citizen of the state from seeking state services from any other agency, other than the “amorous commission”.

But I knew the Oregon law violated both my right to choose under the ADA and my First and Fourteenth Amendment rights under the U.S. Constitution.

So in the early spring of 2000 I wrote to both Myers and the governor, who was the same exact John Kitzhaber who resigned in disgrace during his forth term about twelve years later.

Not surprisingly, I heard nothing from Governor Kitzhaber, but this dirty Jewish lawyer from Chicago named David Schulman wrote back and made this ridiculous claim that I would need to prove there was a public interest before the State would agree to reduce or waive the $200 fee.

As mentioned, I argued that the fee was both exorbitant, and unjustified. I also argued this was clearly retaliatory, and that there was a pattern of this sort of misconduct from this particular state agency toward clients.

In response to Schulman’s deceitful letter, I wrote back to Myers and pointed out that Schulman’s response had completely ignored the question of whether or not I could seek services from Voc Rehab, and made no mention of how the State would handle the complaint regarding the charge of sexual harassment I had filed against Linda Mock.

I went on to explain how absurd Mr. Schulman argument was, claiming I somehow needed to prove there was “a public interest” before the State would reduce or waive the fee. In no uncertain terms I stated to Myers that just because I honestly stated that, if necessary or appropriate, I reserved the right to release some of my personal information from my personal file to the public to document how truly corrupt and sexually aggressive this state agency was toward male clients.

I went on to tell Myers that this did not give the State the right to extort me, financially for telling the truth.

Imagine, this is my own personal file, and if I wanted to know what was in it I would have to pay the state one $per page to get a copy.

Not surprisingly, I never heard back from Hardy Myers or his office again, but I did receive my file a couple weeks later. And my effort to receive services through Voc Rehab was temporarily granted…until they came up with another plan to sabotage my academic future after I moved to Portland and enrolled into Portland State University’s computer science program.

In the summer of 1999, before I moved to Portland, I was told by the female client previously mentioned, who also attended that same infamous, inaccessible small business training in Portland, that she had once recorded a peer mentoring meeting that summer in which a gender-impaired volunteer from Voc Rehab named Jeaneen told her after the meeting “We’re going to destroy him [Don]!”

Later that week, I came over to her house and she played the recording for me but regrettably was afraid to give the tape to me so I could make a copy.

She told me she was worried that she would also be retaliated against. I remember, she said something like, ‘she had her kids to think about’.

You see, I had been a peer mentor in Lane County’s peer mentoring program…until I began asking why Buddy McKay was charging the state $30 per hour for our services, and only paying us $10 per hour. In other words, he was keeping $20 for every hour we worked.

Obviously, I wasn’t the kind of schmuck Voc Rehab wanted for their peer mentoring program. This is why I suspect one of the peer mentors, Jeaneen, had threatened to “destroy” me at the very next peer mentoring meeting.

Unfortunately, this is how Oregon’s peer mentoring program works. McKay, who was completely able-bodied, hired a “token cripple” named Justin. Once a month we would meet with Justin for “training” sessions, the state would be billed almost $1000 each time we met. Except, not only do I feel Justin was incapable of training anyone, to do anything, other than how to rip off the state, we were fed these crappy sack lunches and paid $30 to attend, for three hours. We learned absolutely nothing, other than how to fill out Buddy McKay’s intentionally confusing, complicated forms, which to the unknowing state auditor may have given the impression that we, as peer mentors, were actually accomplishing some sort of intended objective for some unknown stated purpose.

When you add up the fees McKay was charging the state for running this bullshit program in at least three different cities, I estimate McKay and and hapless henchman, Justin, were pocketing around $100,000 per year. I know, the mentoring scam was running for at least two years, from 1999-2001, but it may have been running a lot longer than that.

Much like the state’s CAP [Client Assistance Program], and DRO [disability Rights Oregon] almost every one of these programs are intentionally designed by the state to not provide any sort of useful help to Oregon’s most vulnerable population — Oregonians with disabilities. But this sort of hypocrisy and corruption is commonplace throughout Oregon’s disability rehabilitation system.

As this chapter outlines. it is probably why I was such a threat to the Coordinator of the Commission, Charlie Young, and his fellow Voc Rehab con artists. As this book proves, my reputation as a whistleblower was well-documented long before I came to Oregon, and apparently Oregon had been warned by Bigotucky.

I believe the State of Kentucky made sure my vocational counselor, Kathlene O’Giblien, knew all about their version of why I didn’t get into law school. But here’s the truth about Oregon,a truth the Goons will never admit.

For example, in 1999 while I was a “peer mentor” in Eugene, the only client I was assigned to mentored had some sort of mental impairment. When we met, he claimed he was developing a method where he could listen to several different audio sources at the same time.

To any one else, I’m sure he sounded completely crazy. And although I knew he was probably a rookie cop or a want-to-be shrink, or some grad student needing cash, I knew the idea isn’t completely crazy.

I believe he was actually hired by the State of Oregon and Buddy McKay for the purpose of embarrassing or discrediting me, since on Saturday I would often listen to three or four college football games at the same time, which probably drove my roommates or neighbors crazy.

I would put one game on the living-room TV, one on the bedroom TV, and another game or two on the radios in the kitchen and bathroom. If one is a college football addict, it makes sense because of all the delays between plays and endless commercials, it’s a lot more efficient and healthy to walk from room to room, rather than being a slave to the couch.

Let’s do the math. There are about one hundred and fifty plays in every game, and each play is about ten or fifteen seconds long. This works out to about thirty or forty minutes of playing time for each game, even though in reality the average game lasts about three hours.

If broadcasters really wanted to help the fans, and would be willing to coordinate every play with the other games available at that time, we should be able to watch and/or listen to at least four or five games over that same three hours.

Since I know that I don’t want to buy any of their crap or hear most of their commentary, I would do my very best, before I overcame my sports addiction, to utilized each and every minute of every Saturday. Do you think that’s crazy?

to go out of their way to make me look crazy by hiring this phony client through this phony mentoring program, with public money is outrageous. Is there some public interest being served, by making this whistleblower look crazy?

Think about this. Despite being blind, under Oregon’s “mentoring” program I was never assigned even one client with a physical disability, including blindness, which would have made some sense, if the program was actually about having Oregonians with disabilities mentoring other Oregonians with similar disabilities, rather than protecting these two crooks.

As I mentioned in another chapter, I believe it can actually be harmful to have a person, with no professional training, mentoring or instructing a person with a completely different type of impairment. This is what makes disabilities so unique, as opposed to other minorities, since no two people, even with the same impairment, are ever the same, in terms of knowing how to best cope with their individual situation.

For example, almost all blind people will tell you that it is far worst to have a partially sighted person leading them around, or assisting them, rather than a person with perfect vision.

This is because, to effectively mentor a person, there has to be a feeling of equality between the two people. And, why there are some exceptions to this rule, partially sighted people tend to often be domineering and controlling, over a totally-blind person. This is because usually, the partially sighted person views the completely blind person as inferior. This shouldn’t surprise the reader, since partially sighted people often find themselves being discriminated against by the fully-sighted world, including friends and family.

So back to the secret recording, I knew having a copy of the explicit threat that McKay and his friends had made against me that summer would have been very helpful for my long-term future. Unfortunately, the other client was convinced to destroy the tape, and sent me an E mail saying she had destroyed the tape.

“you better stay away from me. And you better stay away from my kids!” She added, in the post script of the message.

“What are you talking about?” I asked myself. I had never been accused of acting inappropriate around children, by anyone. I decided to ignore her threatening E mail (but I should have realized Parks, Harcletoad, and the women of Eugene, were up to something no good. Luckily, I saved a copy of her E mail.

Obviously, she was implying that something inappropriate happened, which she knew was untrue. And that’s ironic, considering what one of her friends, a rehabilitation teacher with the Commission had said to me that summer.

Earlier that summer, I went into my vocational counselor’s office, Kathlene O’Giblien, to discuss one of my business plans. At some point I kneeled down to tie my shoe, when this rehabilitation teacher came into the office.

Coming over to where I was kneeling, a foot or so away from my face, she said in a sexy voice, “There’s something else you can do while you’re down there.” And O’Giblien snickered.

Imagine if two male state employees did this to a female client who was blind.

“Hey, while you’re down there, would you mind sucking my dick for me, bitch.” And the other one, a vocational counselor, says, “that’s fucking hilarious, Pat!” And they both laugh hysterically.

I was trying to present my business plan, about an automated coffee shop. And I expected it to be given some serious consideration.

Obviously, the creeps from the SAG had already devised a strategy they would use against me four years later to “destroy me,” and my credibility. And

Apparently, Kathlene O’Giblien’s husband worked as a propaganda writer for NIDA, belittling the medical use of marijuana. And like Loren Parks, didn’t believe it actually helped anyone.

Dr. Kitzhaber said in 1998 while he was governor and taking money from the pharmaceutical industry, “There’s no medical benefit from using marijuana.”

In fact, almost everyone who smokes marijuana benefits from it. Unless we’ve decided being happy isn’t healthy? We know the pharmaceutical industry makes most of its money from sick people, not healthy ones.

It was interesting how I got the job with the Census Bureau in 2000. I was hired over the phone, so they didn’t know anything about me. I didn’t tell them I was blind, and just showed up for the training. It was kind of funny, seeing their frustration, scrambling around over my very presence.

At first they tried to send me away. And when I refused, they conferred with their boss back at the office, Mike Steenhout, he told them to make what ever accommodations necessary. Apparently, according to the Seattle Office, I was the first totally blind person to apply for a census taker position in the northwest. So I passed this basic literacy test and had someone fill out the necessary employment forms.

It was decided, I would help out on Thursday of that week at a local homeless shelter. However, that would be my first and last day working for the Department of Commerce. Although they made it clear we weren’t civil service worker, and didn’t have any of the same rights.

The plan was to appease me for one day and send me away, although the other workers were guaranteed at least a month or two of work. So I came up with a plan.

I called the Register Guard and one of the local television stations, saying I had a friend who was going to be the first totally blind census taker in the Northwest. I gave them the time and location where we would be on Thursday, and to my surprise they both showed up.

My supervisor that day called Steenhout immediately. He told her not to let me speak to the press until he got there, and immediately drove out to the location.

“Were not required to follow the ADA,” the porky Jewish, ex-Marine informed me, when I tried to explained that I felt the Department’s hiring practice were discriminatory.

Mike Steenhout, was the kind of guy who would make most people either hate Jews, or hate marines. And maybe, both. His smug, arrogant way of always being right, no matter the situation, made him difficult to deal with. But he was the boss, and everybody knew it.

He was a ROTC graduate from a private school in Washington, Evergreen University. This automatically made him an officer in Iraq, and he treated us all like privates in his private army.

I wouldn’t figure this out until years later, but the Department of Commerce is filled with these sort of Zionist elitist from private schools. The “chosen people”, as they like to say. Although most of them from the west coast are mostly atheist, or in a few cases, devil worshipers.

Make no mistake, the Census Bureau, like the Department of Commerce itself, is all about the money. If it were really about helping the people, and voting, the Census Bureau would be under the Department of Health and Human Services, not Commerce.

“Okay, but I’ll have to tell the media that the Department of Commerce discriminates against people with disabilities and the law needs to be changed to prevent this exemption,” I calmly told Steenhout.

“So, what do you want?” He asked. And I said I wanted an office job, answering telephone questions about the census, and I’ll say what ever you want to the press.

He called Seattle, and after a long while, reluctantly agreed, while the press waited outside.

I have little doubt this front page article about me being the first blind Census Taker in the Northwest really pissed off Charlie Young and the Oregon Commission for the Blind.

The Census Bureau was an interesting place. While the Eugene Office openly discriminated against a person with a disabilities, and there weren’t any African-Americans hired by Steenhout as far as I could tell, they go out of their way to hire every other perceived minority.

Along with Steenhout,who was one of about a dozen Jews who were hired by the Eugene Census Bureau, our Assistant Director was a openly gay woman just out of the military. And our Security Officer was a friendly Mexican guy who was proud to tell us that he was a registered communist.

Curiously the Office Manager was a white guy named John Poindexter. And if you don’t remember, John Poindexter was the name of the big Democrat contributor who had a ranch in Texas where Supreme Court Justice Anthony Scalia allegedly died. And there are a lots of suspicious facts about Scalia’s death that were never answered by Texas officials, similar to the Uvalde Shooting. And these questions were never mentioned by the corporate conspirators in the media, and their lap dogs at the Times or the Compost, or NPR.

In addition, our Administrative Assistant at the Eugene Census Bureau was a clueless, busty blond, with an attitude, who was married to a guy who blew off part of his hand, building a bomb. Obviously, she wasn’t hired for her intelligence and I don’t know all the circumstances, but one would think a federal agency would immediately flag someone like this as unemployable. Simply because of what her husband had once blew off his hand building a bomb.

Any reasonable person would have to say putting someone as this in a position where she would know the secret process involving taking the Census, and there are some secrets the public doesn’t know, seems strange for a federal agency, and very risky. In fact, we had two boxes of completed long forms that disappeared that summer from the office, around July of 2000. And according to Poindexter, they were never found.

Maybe one thing I shouldn’t have done while working at the Census involved a young punk named Jesse. He was around seventeen or eighteen. One day he stopped by my apartment on Washington Street and I smoked a joint with him. Like Chuck rooks, he never seemed to have his own smoke. Although He was always bragging about knowing these big time pot dealers who sold thousands of pounds.

He started talking this same shit one day and it really pissed me off. I had just lost my job and I was sick of hearing this bullshit from him, since as usual, he didn’t seem to have any weed to smoke.

I never touched him, but I started coming on to him like I was gay. As I hoped he would do, he quickly got up and took off, and never came back. But I shouldn’t have done it since he was a friend of our ditsy Administrative Assistant, Amber, who I suspect told everyone else she knew I was gay.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, but in August of 2000, my roommate Olga moved to Sacramento, California. And coincidentally, on the following Monday Steenhout advised me that my employment would be terminated that coming Friday. As part of our agreement, Steenhout had promised in that parking lot that I would have a job until at least the end of October, and I began to wonder if Olga had something to do with my termination. And that’s probably when I began to wonder if maybe Olga also had something to do with poisoning the dog and the rejection letter I received from law school?

It’s very possible that Olga, or one of her influential friends from Wellesley or NPR, had something to do with keeping me out of law school when I moved out of her home in Atlanta, and moved to Lexington, Kentucky without her.

Drusilla Bakkart from the Kentucky Law School refused to tell me why my application was rejected, so I new they were hiding something since I graduated with honors.

I remember when we first met, she went on and on about how some prophecy had been fulfilled for her, by us getting together. It all sounded pretty crazy, but I went along with it and we became lovers for a time. But despite her psychic friend from Boston, it wasn’t a good match for me. Not in Atlanta, and definitely not again in Eugene, although we did stay friends until Diva was poisoned.

After deciding there was no future in Kentucky for me, I decided to invest the last of my resources into moving west. And I mistakenly chose Oregon because of my interest in helping with the new medical marijuana proposition…and maybe that’s why the Lane County District Attorney and the Eugene cops had it out for me from the very beginning.

And that’s where this part of the nightmare begins…in Crack-of-my-ass County, as I’ll tell you about in the next several chapters.