These Perps Have a Name

For almost the entire time I have known that I am under surveillance and being harassed anonymously, I also have known the name of my main harassers. (True modern-day Hitlers, as you will come to understand reading this blog.) The Chief Perpetrator is named Ron, and his technical go-to boy is named Rick.

How do I know this? Because I hear them calling to each other pretty much every hour of my waking life. Sounds weird, I know, but it's true. The surveillance operation likely is built on a communication system that uses laser technology to eavesdrop on us, and sonar technology to broadcast voices to me. I can't figure out whether this happens through a sound projection device (like the Audio Spotlight) or through what the U.S. military has developed and calls "voice to skull."

Both sound like something out of a Martian movie, and thus people who are harassed with these technologies seldom are taken seriously. But they exist (click the links above to check them out), and they are most likely used on innocent people all over the world. I have come to understand that they are used on me, after years of thinking maybe I was crazy.

How does this relate to my Sunshine Boys Rick and Ron? At times, I can hear them talking to each other -- obviously via some type of network that I am able to hear somehow. I don't usually hear their conversations, which are too muffled to understand. But I clearly hear their calls to each other.

A typical scenario involves Ron barking out a "Rick," which often is followed within seconds by a ping on my TV set, or the sound of Rick's voice calling out my name near a window. Clearly these tricksters have bugged the ventilation shafts of the house, because Rick's voice often can be heard calling out my name from right around the vents.

After all these years of experiencing this, it rates as a minor hassle and in some ways an absurd joke. The idea that these two goons would think that I am still perplexed, or freaked out, by their voice trickery, is amusing. But it is their primary method of ensuring hourly harassment of me--and of building up their tenuous macho self-esteem by fucking with innocent people--so the practice persists.

What're the Odds?

At a busy local bookstore near your home, you wander over to the periodicals section and begin browsing amidst a cluster of other shoppers. Standing near the end of one aisle, thumbing through a mag, you overhear a Hispanic male talking low (ostensibly into a cell phone). He says:

“Are you going to fly out to DC now for Ryan’s surgery, or are you going to wait until Laura comes home?”

You’re instantly overcome with a cold chill and your entire body feels paralyzed. The cell phone talker is repeating almost verbatim a conversation you had with your partner around 10 pm last night.

After a few seconds, you round the corner of the aisle, and spot four people, but no one appears to be talking on a cell phone. And you are less than five feet from the door of the store.

You imagine that one of the persons you see could have been having that conversation, but of course you do not know anything for sure. And because of your proximity to the door, you have no idea who has just entered or who has left.

You do know, however, that your conversations are being eavesdropped upon. And they chose a nifty way to make sure you knew.

Relief: He Hears It Too!

Most evenings, while watching television on the couch, you notice the faint murmur of human voices coming from the window to your left. The sound is indistinct – you can’t make out a single word the group is saying – but undoubtedly human.

It’s somewhat like being in a room next door to a conference gathering, where you hear the hum of a lot of conversations. Just a smaller group – and, oh yes, every once in a while, you do hear one word quite clearly: your name.

You notice that if you move to the floor, and lay on a cushion, to watch TV, the sounds do not occur. But return to your typical spot on the couch, and badabing, the voices return almost instantly.

At one point you look across the room at your partner and say,” Can’t you hear those voices? It’s like people outside our window.” He looks at you sadly, and shakes his head no. You feel a frustration like nothing you’ve ever felt.

Until one evening when your partner is sitting in your normal place. His eyes light up for a moment, and he looks almost embarrassed. You glance intently at him and ask, “What is it?” And he says those words you have longed to hear for years: “I heard them. Until a few seconds ago, I heard a group talking.”

You almost cry in relief.

Pop! Ping! Bling!

One weekend afternoon when your partner is out running errands, you decide to get off your ass and do the laundry. You rise from the couch, and walk into the bedroom to stuff the clothes into the hamper. Upon entering the room, you hear a loud “ping” popping noise coming from the adjacent window. “Not a normal noise,” you think.

You walk into the back of the bedroom and lean over to assemble the dirty clothes into the hamper. “Pop!” – there it goes again! This time, from the window directly above your head.

You drag the laundry hamper down the stairs into the basement and dump the clothes onto the floor. As you walk over toward the washer and dryer – you guessed it – “Ping”! Pop! It seems as if the window is going to explode in front of your eyes.

You roll your eyes, because you realize more clearly than ever that SOMEONE is outside with a fancy piece of technology, aiming at your windows to give you a fright as you move through your home. They want you to know you are watched, and essentially, invaded. And it works quite well, at least to get you royally pissed.

The Electronic Sound Show Begins

You turn on the television to watch the nightly news, and sink into the couch. Maybe five minutes later, a sharp singular “pop” noise, like a staccato cracking, bolts out from the television. At first you are stunned and wonder what on earth that was all about. Twenty minutes later, the same sound – this time slightly louder – occurs again.

You try to recall any cracking noise you have ever heard come from your television set, or from any piece of electronics for that matter. The first thing that comes to mind is that you never, once in your life have given this thought. But, you think you can remember that at times the TV will give off a slight crackling “pop” noise within a few minutes of being turned off. Yes, that does happen, you remember more clearly now.

But this is no subtle crackling pop. This sounds like the freaking TV is about to explode. It begins to sink in that someone is playing an electronically delivered trick on you; some distant bomber is pointing an electronic spear at your devise and firing it off. (You later learn via the Internet exactly how this is done.)

As the months go by, this sound occurs almost invariably whenever you sit down to watch TV. Your partner notices it as well, but argues vociferously with you that, “It’s just the goddamned TV! It is getting old. Stop being so paranoid!”

You point out the huge difference between the normal sounds of a turned-off TV, a sound everyone would recognize as familiar when they heard it, and THIS sound. This is not a “normal” sound. Your partner shrugs his shoulders, and you sulk.

The Bastards Move In

As is your usual wake-up custom, you lie in the bed after your partner has left for the day, watching the "Today" show before arising to shower. The television is on low volume, but you occasionally seem to hear another sound: someone calling out your voice. It happens immediately after the heater kicks on, like clockwork.

After noticing this twice or three times, you head into the bathroom to shave and shower. Upon turning on the water in the sink, once again – you hear the distinct, but low, sound of someone calling out your name. It appears to be coming from behind you, around the kitchen window that is adjacent to the bathroom. The same low male voice you have heard before, outside.

You jump in the shower, and the single voice becomes a chorus. Occasionally, through the sound of the shower water, you hear different voices calling out your name. One sounds Hispanic, one is a woman, and one is the familiar low drone of a voice you are coming to know quite well. The constant calling out continues until you turn off the water, then all is silent again.

The lowlifes have taken up residence. They want to have a word with you, all the time.