Academy for Psychic Studies - Piling it Higher and Deeper

As there are no more culties to work at the Blue Sky Ranch,

Robin Dumolin and her friend are forced to work it themselves.
And it looks like Robin dragged a follower's child along

to shovel the stuff she's full of.

Looking back at my internment at the Academy for Psychic Studies, it amazes me how much unmitigated BULLSHIT flowed from the mouths of Rev. William Duby, Angela Silva and Robin Dumolin.  It was equally amazing (again, looking back) how they were able to use deception and idiotic and unprovable crap to make both Bill Duby and the Witches of Ellsworth Street look not only holy and on a spiritually elevated plane of existence, they were utterly unabashed about amplifying an event to cement their grip on power and on the minds of their followers.

I recalled the event where Rev. Bill Duby supposedly survived a serious bout with Type II diabetes.  Our information was Mr. Duby drank some kind of herbal health remedy which triggered a massive diabetic incident requiring serious medical care.  It was also said this incident was among the worst in medical history - which would result in death for a person less enlightened and less able than Bill to handle the severe energy of illness.

That no one ever saw the man in the hospital or saw his health records, nor had they seen any evidence of him being seriously ill (the bottle of medicine to treat diabetes sitting on Bill's desk does NOT indicate Bill's condition was serious) was never ever discussed.  That the Witches and Bill were the only source of the story was never brought up for question.  We just took it for granted that Bill was indeed as ill as he said - just like we all took it for granted Bill was a chihuahua expert (which one commenter still believes).

Bill's claim - and SRF lore, has Bill claiming his blood glucose levels were well over 2000 mg/dl, the highest ever seen by the medical staff and it was only Bill's spiritual strength that allowed him the chance to survive it.

Bill first claimed he was suffering from Type 1 diabetes - the insulin dependent type.  However, I never saw him with insulin and syringes.  He took pills.  Now, I know a few people who have Type 1 diabetes.  They never go anywhere without insulin.  One of them had a insulin pump implanted in her abdomen.  I know - I saw it frequently.  Don't ask how I saw it or what I did with it.  Later, he seemed to modify his claim saying he actually has Type 2 (non-insulin dependent) diabetes for which he only has to take pills.  I know that as well, as he kept repeating Type 2 diabetes to me like a mantra.

It's utterly impossible to have Type 1 diabetes then abruptly have Type 2 diabetes as those conditions have completely different causes (genetics and environmental trigger vs. eating crap food and not exercising) and come from different processes in the body (you can't make insulin vs. you are eating so much crap, your body can't process and detoxify it).  As there was intense secrecy over Bill's condition, there's no way of knowing what that crazy bastard really had.

While it is possible in theory to have a blood glucose level of over 2000, there's just no way anyone can verify Bill's levels were that high or if he took the actual level and edited it to serve his own purposes.  That secrecy thing still floated in the air.  If you asked a question, you would be pummeled until you were no more than a grease spot.  I personally believe, based on his habit of telling tall tales, Bill's blood sugar wasn't quite that high - but it was probably pretty damn high anyway.

The actual blood sugar level aside, that Bill amplified his health situation and exploited it to consolidate power and influence over his captive flock leaves a stench over the whole incident.

Recall the atmosphere at the Academy for Psychic Studies at the time.  People were running around in circles, convinced there was some kind of psychic attack on Duby, the Witches and the Golden Child.  Energy work abounded.  All followers, newer ones and veterans of the abuse alike were scrutinized for any dark energy and poor attitudes towards the Academy and all it stood for.  Those who were seen as dark servants of evil were immediately singled out.

Now look at the aftermath:  the troops were rallied, alliances were formed, loyalties were tested, those with the dark energy of evil were not only singled out, there were stripped bare and drawn and quartered in front of the gathered followers so their disease wouldn't contaminate the premises.

A global energy clean-out was prescribed.  All those affiliated with the Academy were cleaned out - of money as well as energy.  So, I guess that's the real reason the troops were mustered.

Anyway after Bill was released from wherever he was hiding out, he diagnosed everyone with diabetes.  To anyone's knowledge, no one actually had diabetes.

That didn't stop Bill from insisting everyone in his line of sight march directly to a physician for a blood glucose test whether they needed it or not.  Bill proclaimed those who were identified as holding dark energy be marginalized and immediately transported to the local emergency room for a blood test that could have been easily done at a routine physical.  Concerned followers purchased tests, special diets, herbal remedies and other useless items to control a condition they never had.  All in all, thousands of dollars were wasted for the quack remedies and unneeded medical expenses.

After Bill completed his grand rounds and diagnosed everyone he saw with diabetes, he approached me as I was chugging some water on a warm day.  Bill said thirst was a sign of diabetes and asked what my blood sugar looked like.  My reply: I just got a physical with a complete blood work-up.  All my blood chemistry is completely within normal range.  The look of disappointment on his face was unforgettable.

I guess his days as a diabetes doc were numbered after that.  There was no talk of diabetes ever again.

By then, Bill's perverted objective was reached and the damage done: wives were convinced their husbands were suffering from diabetes and were ascribing all manner of character flaws and personality disorders to not just their husbands but all men they encounter due to diabetes.  Even when physicians and laboratory results proved no medical problems, Bill and all the Academy women persisted in their assertion the men were stricken with diabetes and the odd and annoying behavior only they saw was the result of said disease.  Bill had succeeded in creating so much tension in relationships and among the followers using his own disease as a conduit, his grip on their reality and his Witches' grip on the followers money was assured.

Just like the chihuahua craze where Bill positioned himself as an expert on a topic he barely knew, he used the opportunity to press forward a secret and perverted agenda using another topic he knew not a damn thing about.  Rev. William Duby amplified and perverted a personal situation to reinforce his evil control over this followers and cemented his Witches' stranglehold on the assets and influence of the followers.

But that was all done in the guise of spiritual enlightenment and his dubious psychic prowess in identifying the energies that ruled our bodies.

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Courtesy of Spiritual Perversion, here is a short account of the weekend Bill realized he had diabetes and found a way to stay out of sight and create havoc on what was said to be a weekend of trance and relaxation:

Everyone wanted to get out of there, but when all the beginning people had left, Ang called an emergency ministers meeting. We were commanded to attend. Ang admonished all the ministers for falling apart and being too dependent on Rev. Bill and not upholding the teaching without him. During the meeting we found out Rev. Bill had had a diabetic convulsion when he drank a bottle of some kind of new age cough medicine concoction Robin had made for him.

Ang said in severe tones, “His blood sugar count was up to almost 2000, which was the highest the nurses had ever seen. The doctor said he should have died with blood sugar that high. He didn’t die because his body can handle so much energy and because he has so much psychic power. As psychics we have to be aware of the energy on the planet. The planet is going through a transition, or in other wards, a growth period. Rev. Bill was under intense psychic attack from the astral planes. All weekend Robin and I were working on healing the planet, and healing Rev. Bill. The dark forces that can’t have it were trying to destroy Rev. Bill because he is one of a few enlightened people on the planet. You ministers let the dark forces run rampant through your spaces, competing with each other, backbiting and whatever.

“Mason, I don’t want you to ever talk to the women the way you did during the retreat in this house. We have to bond together now and show greater dedication to Rev. Bill and the teaching if we are going to survive. Those of you who can’t have it can leave. Rev. Bill is under a great deal of stress and has suffered. For now on I don’t want anyone coming to him when he is trying to relax at the computer upstairs. His room upstairs is his sacred space and you have to show him total respect. You women don’t be going to him to solve your little problems. You know how he just gets set off.”

It was clear Rev. Bill had coached her on much of what to say. Later Rev. Bill told us the same thing, except in his more intense and detailed way. After he had berated all of us in class, he called Mason to his back apartment to talk. Mason was very tense and on guard. He tried to stay on his best behavior because he knew he was the bad guy. Rev. Bill started speaking to him from his bed in buddy mode about diabetes and how Mason was exhibiting many of the systems of it. Rev. Bill said that Annie agreed with him and had confirmed that Mason showed many of the symptoms. Mason said that he felt tired and worn out but he didn’t think he had diabetes. Rev. Bill became very intense and began to rip into Mason for his inability to “hear him” and for his disrespect for women and the teaching.

“You are going to lose everything including your soul if you don’t listen to me on this one.” Rev. Bill told him. “You need to go the hospital to get checked out for diabetes.” Mason disagreed and tried to leave the room. Rev. Bill went into a fury, and some of us saw them as Bill followed Mason out onto the porch. We saw Rev. Bill yelling and Mason throwing his hands up, angry and resistant.

This was the beginning of the end for Mason. Rev. Bill characterized him as a full-on Judas. Rev. Ang confided in me—and others, one at a time—that she hated Mason because he was causing Rev. Bill a lot of stress, which was partly the cause of Bill’s diabetes. We all agreed with Ang. We felt Mason deserved to be shunned for his “selfishness and disrespect” and for “delighting in entertaining dark forces.”

Rev. Bill went on a crusade about diabetes. He taught us all about the symptoms of it and how most of us had them. He had everyone checking their blood sugar counts every day. At his suggestion, several people bought little diabetes kits to test their blood sugar. This all seemed a little weird, even pathetic, but as usual we were all eager to please him. He even started a cafe downstairs that served a properly balanced meal that the hospital recommended for Rev. Bill. Rev. Bill said he had Type 1 diabetes and the rest of us were borderline Type 2. I wanted to laugh at it all, but I needed to show my support too.

The day after he came back Rev. Bill asked me how I felt and I told him I felt tired and out of sorts. He sat down and took time to talk to me about all the symptoms of diabetes. Rev. Robin came in and sweetly reminded me that I had promised to fix her kitchen sink, so I left to work on it. As I worked on her sink, Robin kept zipping back and forth walking in her swift, focused manner. I loved it when she stopped in the kitchen for a time and talked to me. The friendly attention from an attractive woman did me wonders. After a while Rev. Bill came in and again gave me special attention, even confiding to me about how it was in the hospital for him. He said I had several of the symptoms the doctor had talked about such as being tired, pissing a lot, blurry vision, and so on. He told me that I could spend the night at the Academy for a few more nights to be in the healing energy. I didn’t particularly want to do this, but it seemed like a warm and approving gesture on his part, so I did.

The next day he came in and asked me how I was doing in a friendly manner. I told him I felt tired. He said, “God I feel this weird pain in my chest and my first chakra. Have you felt that? What is that energy?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I‘ve been kinda feeling that too.”

He ran through the diabetes symptoms and claimed I had at least half of them. I acted concerned, as it seemed very important to him. He insisted that the best way to cure oneself was to get hooked up to the IV units at the hospital. I told him I didn’t think that was necessary, that I was basically okay. He kept pressing the point. He said I could stay at the Academy a couple of more days till I felt better. I really didn’t want to do this.

  Both Linda came Bill became more intense in their insistence that I needed to go to the hospital and get checked out. When Rev. Bill said, “Linda, you really need to take care of this man; his ego is getting in the he way of common sense,” Linda jumped on the bandwagon, demonstrating great concern, and they both kept up the pressure. I objected saying it wasn’t necessary and the hospital would end up sending a big bill. I knew Linda agreed with this because she was always freaked out about money. But Rev. Bill said, “Money means nothing when it comes to your health, and besides, hospital bills are the last thing creditors go after. You guys have no havingness. You don’t believe I’m clairvoyant.”

I felt horrible, but I finally agreed to go. Linda took me.

Over the next week Rev. Bill kept up the pressure on me, and we went to three different hospitals. I seemed to have been chosen as some sort of guinea pig in his mind, although he was doing the same thing with the others. He coached me, in the presence of Ang, Linda, or Robin, on the right way to talk to the hospital staff so they would be concerned enough to hook me up to the IV. Linda took me each time, but the results of the blood sugar tests were always normal. The last time they actually took me in, but the doctor found no basis for hooking me up to the IV, and I couldn’t persuade him to do so. This was such a horrible waste of time and money, and I felt wasted.

When we came back from the third hospital, Rev. Bill said, “You almost had it. Why can’t you just fake being sick, Steve? You need to be more convincing to get in there. You need this, but your ego just won’t let you get into it. Show him how to do it, Ang. You can’t acknowledge how sick you are and show it for the same reason you can’t go into trance—you have to be in control. To go into trance you have to be able to give up control. I’ve told you that a thousand times, but you can’t learn. You got your family in your head. Your brain stem is shot.” He became very heated and kept trying to get me to practice faking it. At this point I simply refused. It reminded me of being in my parents’ room one time as a child when they were trying unsuccessfully to get me to emote what my problem was; I felt too shamed, guilty, and embarrassed to do anything. I knew what he was trying to get me to do was absurd; I knew that even Linda didn’t want to go to another hospital with me, though she wouldn’t say anything.

Rev. Ang, Linda, and Robin were in the basement room while Rev. Bill kept working on me hour after hour. When Rev. Bill went to take a piss, Ang took me outside and said, “Steve, can’t you see this man is very stressed out? Can’t you just go along with this for his sake?”

“Ang, I am not sick. The tests are okay, it’s not necessary, and it’s a waste of money.”

She said, completely sincere, “Why don’t you just pretend to be sick to take the stress off this man?”

“That’s ridiculous!” This was so absurd I laughed. It was so unfair. I was fascinated by her blindness. She just got mad at me. She had meant it and refused to see anything wrong with what she said. In that moment I mentally shifted further away from her and all of them. I told them I wasn’t going to the hospital anymore, and that I was going to go home now.

They all got upset, but I took off and walked the two miles back to my apartment in the middle of the night, leaving the car with Linda. The next day at Rev. Bill’s behest I got word from Ang through Linda that I was being taken off of everything. They said I was too stressed out and my ego was out of control. For two weeks they said I should just stay at the Russell Street property and not go off it. I was supposed to just rest; I was not to go to work at Liberty, not to go to Santa Clara, not play basketball, not go to the movies, not go anywhere. Linda would take care of Santa Clara and make sure I had food; Don would take care of Liberty.

This was a sad, depressing, lonely time. My life was a nightmare. I couldn’t let them do these things to me, but it was all set in motion. I wanted to work and see people. That’s what kept me sane. I sensed the stupidity, humiliation, and insanity of my life, but it was excruciatingly painful to face it. I was devastated, lonely, and lost. I got away a few times to play basketball, take a walk, or get something to eat.

I slept a lot during this time when I was supposed to stay on Russell Street. One night I had an awful nightmare that repeated itself with variations. I dreamed I was captured by enemies. I was an officer being held in an underground place by three men, and at first it seemed I was going to be let go. But when I woke up from sleeping in my dream, I found myself bound up. They had wrapped my whole body in large bandages that were very tight. I was terrified. The wrappings over my face made it difficult to breathe. I could get air only slowly and with much effort. I painfully needed air, and I panicked. What was worse, the bands around my chest didn’t allow my chest to expand far enough to take in hardly any air. I couldn’t get enough air to satisfy my body. My arms and legs were wrapped so I couldn’t move them. It was maddening to not be able to breathe. I was suffocating and felt like going insane with rage toward my captors. I was enraged at the humiliation of my helpless situation. I wanted to struggle against my wrappings and my captors, but this caused intense pain, so then I pretended I was okay. I couldn’t breathe. My only recourse was to be very still, but I felt a horrifying humiliation of being faceless, as if my identity were being erased. I woke up from this dream in a fog. It caused a tired ache in my head that lasted a long time.

After two weeks I was allowed to go back to work for Liberty and to my Academy in Santa Clara. I felt tired than before.

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The whole diabetes episode, once exposed, amply displays the insane control exerted by Bill Duby, the complicity engaged in by his Witches and the unwitting enablement conducted by the followers (especially the wives).

Bill was so insane and so ignorant of a topic he believed he knew expertly, he attempted to manipulate Steve Sanchez into "faking" the results of a lab test as if Steve were taking the DMV driving test.  Worse, Angela Silva was complicit in Bill's insane demand and worked to push Steve into a waste of time and money that could have adversely affected his health - an unneeded treatment for a diabetic crisis.  Even worse, they pressured Steve's wife to go  along and ensure he went with the program. The situation is more than a shocking use of undue influence: that Steve could just talk a physician into an unnecessary treatment for a condition that didn't exist was just plain stupid and potentially dangerous.

Any physician who ordered a treatment for a diabetic emergency when no such condition exists is conducting malpractice, plain and simple.  That's not my ego talking, it's common sense and one of the legal standards for determining malpractice.  Even if the physician "hooked up" a bag of IV saline to Steve, he had no good reason to do it.  Would you want to have a doc like that in practice?

Further, what would you think of a "minister" and his spiritual wife who coerces someone into a unneeded medical treatment only because they want him to do it?

Yeah, I thought so.