Going To The Dogs

Oh Look: Robin is out shopping with a follower's child again!

That Robin Dumolin considered herself the "spiritual mother" of at least one of her follower's children is pretty much well known.  It's also legendary that the relationship appeared to so many of us somewhat like a blond and her fashion accessory chihuahua, with the child being dragged around to so many events and activities just like Paris' Tinkerbell.

As this crazy event was going on, the founder of the Academy for Psychotic Studies decided it would be in the best interest of the followers to start buying pets to relieve them of whatever worldly burden they had (like, maybe the few extra bucks they had saved for say, food, a desperately-needed car or clothes) and teach them about caring for a life that is totally dependent on them and caring for the men at the Academy. 

Ummm.... 'kaaaay.

Overlooked by the Founder, Rev. Bill Duby, was that his targets were by and large, mothers.  Mothers of children in his cult.  Mothers whos children were spending time with Bill and his sister wives.  A lot of time.

And of course, the children were totally dependent on their parents for all the things kids depend on them to provide.  And for the most part, those parents were providing all they could to the extent allowable after all their cult responsibilities were taken care of.  And of course, the cult's needs came before any other because without the cult, where would any of the follower be in life?  They might be living in a comfortable suburb in a nice home with the ability to send their kids to college and give them all the things kids need today instead of slaving away nights, weekends and holidays for the benefit of people who are never satisfied (so who decided kids "need" an iPod, iPhone, iPad, iTatoos, iPiercings and iSkirts that make them look like they belong on an Oakland street at midnight?).

As with all things that came from his bizarre mind, good reason and common sense never stopped Rev. Bill Duby.  He charged forward with the unstoppable force of a freight train.

Bill's days were consumed with searching that interweb thing, newspapers, supermarket ad papers and whatever else for all kinds of dogs.  But not just any dog.  He searched for chihuahuas and only chihuahuas.

Although, it turned out, Bill never had a chihuahua or a pet that anyone knows of, besides maybe the cockroaches in the Academy dining hall (and despite the commenter's note my claim is exaggerated - take a look at my response.  Bill never had a chihuahua - it was Angela's) he became the world's foremost expert on chihuahuas.  Bill spoke endlessly about breeds, care, training, doggy behavior and that he'd better not find any doggy residue anywhere but in the kitchen where it could be served up as a nutritious meal (for six bucks a spoonful - which includes a slice of week-old bread).

Once his authority was established on all matters related to dogs, Bill began his usual endless chant and dribble.  "Chihuahuas are the dogs of the future!", he'd shout.  "People who live in cities need dogs like this!", he'd holler.  It went on, and on, and on...

Soon, he began his plan to hoodwink the poor, unsuspecting faithful.  First, his most loyal lieutenant was pledged to adopt a dog, than another, then another and then one more.  Then, the faithful were gathered for yet another boring, depressing meeting designed to secure control over their thought processes and were given a surprise envelope.

Of course, when he handed over the envelope it was empty.  Bill expected it to come back with "donations" to help secure the purchase of "SRF dogs" for the faithful.  So, the weary followers dug into their pockets for their lunch money and forked it over so they wouldn't get the crap beat out of them at recess.

Not generally known was that the few who did "receive" a chihuahua, blessed, validated and located by Bill himself, had to pay for their pets anyway.

The dogs cost hundreds to adopt.

So, what about the "SRF dogs" he spoke of? 

Well, Angela got one.  So did Robin Dumolin's dad.  Any guesses on who really paid for them?

But those dogs were the blessed and holy property of the Witches of Ellsworth Street and were provided the best doggy food, best doggy veterinary care and I recall little doggy sweaters on them as well.

The followers dogs didn't fare quite as well.  The dogs were cared for to the extent the follower's could afford.  Most are still alive to this day and are given all the attention and care they need.  No sweaters and rhinestone doggy collars, though.  No fifty bucks a bag specially formulated doggy food either.  Makes you wonder how much a critter really needs.

The care and love given to the dogs wasn't exactly what I was thinking about, though.

Bill, dog expert extraordinaire; Bill, dog training authority; Bill, expert authority on all things chihuahua forgot about the whole damn thing and stopped talking about any kind of pets of any kind once the dogs were integrated into the SRF cesspool.

Kind of makes you think about what happened to all of us, doesn't it?

The dog craze didn't stop the procurement of pets and animals, though.  The infamous "Blue Sky Ranch" in Bethel Island had lots of animals!  Nearly all of them were re-located in the Blue Sky Ranch special animal housing unit six feet underground before they lived a year.

I remember seeing a cat wandering around the SRF headquarters one time.  It was a good looking cat and appeared to be doing a lot of cat things: like climbing into, onto, around, over and under any thing he could find.  It also had a bad habit of clawing.  It clawed people.  Lots of people.  He turned my hand into a bleeding road map.

There was a spray bottle filled with water or something I'd rather not think about placed prominently in the SRF "center room" where the psychotic readings, mind control classes and worthless healings were conducted.  While I was receiving one of those "healings" the cat appeared.  The person "healing" me quickly grabbed the bottle and began spraying like a woman possessed - which I guess she was (and still is).

While furiously squirting the cat with whatever was in the bottle, she shouted "That's for scratching me three days ago, motherfucker!"

I suppose SRF is a warm and nourishing place for no one - not even a cat.

Now, I have had several cats.  I have two of them now.  In fact, my wife's sister lived with us and brought her two cats.  So I've lived with four of the little furballs at once.

I know from my experience that cats don't take to having a lot of people around easily.  And they become skittish, frantic and otherwise nerve-wracked if the people around them behave similarly.

You see, our two cats are pretty friendly.  The big one seems to love everyone - that's how we raised him from a tiny kitten.  The smaller one was a stray and has a little fear of people but still warms up to them quickly.  Our visitors always want to pick up and pet the small one and just pet the big guy because he's too damn big for them to pick up.  Those other two were pretty much crazy, one always coming up to you to claw the hell out of your leg, the other pissing on furniture, pissing on walls, pissing on any damn thing at all.

Well, that went on for a while until the sister-in-law and her daughter took a three-week retreat from the den of iniquity we call home sweet home.  In a week, the change in their cats was remarkable.  The clawing cat leaped on our bed and curled up next to me, claws safely tucked away.  The pissing demon became so calm, he climbed up onto my legs and fell asleep.  Not one drop of cat pee anywhere. 

You see, the house got quieter, calmer, less frantic with their owners gone and before you think it was just because it was an unfamiliar situation, those cats behaved in exactly the same crazy way when they lived with only their owners - claws, pee and all.  My wife and I were nice to them and gave them the kind of environment and attention they craved.  No loud outbursts, no running in circles, no odd and unusual behavior - quite different from the environment they came from.  Coincidence?  What do you think?

So there's no doubt in my mind that the lone SRF cat was just acting out like the people who were surrounding him every day.  I never saw that cat after a few weeks.  I heard he "went to the farm" - or more likely, given Angela's warm and nourishing nature, he "bought the farm".

Apart from that unfortunate cat, what does that say about the calm, peaceful, warm and nourishing atmosphere at the Academy for Psychic Studies?  When a cat becomes disturbed from the behaviors of the crazy people who congregate in a psychotic madhouse, you'd have to take a hard look at a lot more than the cat. 

   
So, a commenter says Bill was an expert as he bought a Chihuahua some years before this nutty Chihuahua binge and purge.  This Chihuahua was named "Taffy" and soon left the expert care of Bill Duby for the affections of Angela Silva.


OK, we are to believe Bill Duby, the man's man, the man who lesser men aspire to become, the man who vanquished lesser men by siccing Angela on them, the man who liked to "whip it out and slap her in the face with it" and exhorted us to "own your balls!", the man who's manliness would be unquestioned by any lesser man:

GOT A FUCKING YAP DOG AND NAMED IT "TAFFY"????

So what else was he doing?  Knitting tea cozies?  Designing shoulder bags for Paris Hilton?

That fucking shitbag was lying again.  The dog was Angela Silva's all along.  Bill just wrangled the money to buy it.

Hey, did that animal show up when Angela's daughter suddenly moved away?  And do you know why she moved away?

Waterboarding at The Academy for Psychic Studies

Here's an excerpt from "Spiritual Perversion" where Steve Sanchez describes his own brand of Academy for Psychic Studies waterboarding.

Not much more I can say about it other than this was pretty much a way of life and a common event at the Academy for Psychic Studies for those at the elite levels: we Clairvoyant Training Program students and our hapless ministers.

I say we were elite as we were the ones who got smacked by Bill Duby and the Witches of Ellsworth Street pretty much every day.


===============================================

Rev. Bill was lecturing several ministers in the center room. He was talking about me as if I were a non-present third person. “This is why I tell the women, never trust men. If they breathe don’t trust them. First comes children, then women, then dogs, then rats, then snakes… then men. Ha ha! Steve is possessed. He is possessed by pussy spirits. I told you guys that when you fuck, all the problems and entities of the other person goes into your partner’s space and you have to deal with them. He’s just showing he can’t deal with it. Their energy is mixing like vinegar and water. The pussy is like a camera; the little man in the boat is recording everything, and her hole is showing it doesn't like the consciousness he is demonstrating. The pussy is like an altar; you have to approach it with the right sermon. Sermon and semen are similar words. When the semen goes in the pussy reads it. Steve did the wrong thing. She doesn't like the sermon he is selling. She ain’t ever going to trust him now. He’s stuck with entities he doesn't understand and can’t handle. All that for a little funny feeling between the legs. You guys have no idea what you are doing. He’s fucked now. He’s possessed by pussy spirits. The pussy is full of heaven or hell. He opened a whole cadre of hellish spirits. That’s what happens when you men let your dick run your mind. I warned him, but you men fuck it up every time.

“He needs some male friends now. You guys are going to have to talk him down like a heroin addict on a bad high. He’s no student of mine. You men are his only hope. He is in total competition with me. He can’t hear me at all. Otherwise he wouldn't have done that. That woman up there loves me. All I did was give her the light. I tried to show him how to do it, but no. He’d rather do it his way. She’s capable of holing up there for months. Actually there’s nothing she’d prefer more, as long as she is somewhere close to me.

“So, it’s up to you men now. The women are disgusted with him. If you care about him, you can take him and try and talk some sense into him. The spirits he has now are not going to change. They are hunkered in, so you are going to have to try and get through to him and hope his heart melts. But don’t expect him to change. Nine chances out of ten it won’t happen, so don’t expect anything, but as ministers it’s your duty to try. Just don’t talk to him over here. We don’t need that energy here around the beginning students. Don, in the army, we used to just shoot guys like him, right? When a guy gets too much pussy juice in him he becomes a liability. A guy like that might get the rest of the squad killed. You have to frag him, do a mercy killing.”

Don said, “Yeah, that’s right, I've seen it many times in Nam.”

I was in a state of devastation. I was at once like a raw wound and numb from excess pain and stress. I was enraged and felt helpless. Everything he said felt like arrows of injustice, but at the same time, I was absorbing it and at least partially believed it.

We milled about the Academy for a bit. I was like a lame, numb duck walking around. Everyone looked at me like I had the plague. The guys had something to eat. Don and Rick received some more instructions from Rev. Bill, and we went over to Russell Street. I desperately felt a need to eat some protein to help ground my hypersensitive nervous system. I dreaded every second of what was coming.

We gathered in the lower half of the front house where Mason, Ross, and I lived. It was located in a rough neighborhood in the flatlands of Berkeley. Our apartment was a basement that had been converted long, long ago. My head missed the ceiling by about three inches. It was a long, narrow house, done in a cheap, ghetto style, with lots of paneling and few windows. All the windows had old bars on them. Everyone called it the dungeon, or the bachelor pad.

They all found seats in the narrow living room. I stood at one end near the next room, because it would be easier to walk out from there. Rev. Ross, Don, Rick,  Dave, and I were now in the room. Ross and Don fiddled with the hems of their shirts constantly. Dave had a contemptuous, agitated look on his face. Rick seemed to consider himself the director of the proceedings since Rev. Bill had given him instructions. He took a deep, loud breath and looked up as if it pained him and said, “Well, Rev. Bill says you need some brothers right now, Steve, so that’s why we’re here. You know we are all dogs here. I think everyone here has been through this before, except maybe Dave. Rev. Bill says it’s our job as brothers to try and get through to you. The first thing I see is that you have a hard time bonding with other men. You were always in competition with your father and brothers and you can’t seem to let go of that, so you can’t bond with other men. You always have to be one up. So the real problem now is you are in competition with Rev. Bill, and that will ruin you. You have to get out of competition with him if you are going to make it. We've all been there. Linda loves him because he gave her the light. He got there first. It’s like Rev. Bill says, if Jesus Christ walked into a room with men and women in it, the women would instantly fall in love with Him and the men would all go into competition with Him. You just got to get over it man.”

I could barely tolerate standing there; I wanted to end it as quickly as possible. I said, “Okay, that makes sense. I see what you are saying.” I wanted to diffuse conflict. I was attempting to be a good soldier of the teaching by not resisting or competing with what they were saying. According to the teaching, “you become what you resist” and “competition shuts down your psychic abilities.”

Rick said, “I have to let you know I have to report back to Rev. Bill whether or not you got the healing.”

Ross jumped in. He had obviously wanted to say something for a while, “Yeah, and you clearly haven’t changed your attitude, motherfucker. The problem is, you are making it bad for all of us men, so don’t shuck us off. You’re making us all look bad, so the women won’t trust any of us. You know how Rev. Bill says the women go blind when they’re upset and shoot with a shot gun blast instead of a rifle shot? That’s what they are doing now. On a psychic plane they are whacking all of us, motherfucker, not just you. We all feel it.” Ross was a very heavy-set man with a Fred Flintstone body and face, who usually had a good sense of humor. He was in his forties and had been in the navy in his younger years. He had been in the teaching for 10 years now and, for the most part, lived off checks form his wealthy mother. When it came to matters of confrontation like this he was usually very militant, so it wasn't as terribly offensive as it might seem for him to call me “motherfucker” because everyone knew the way he was, and he always said it when he was upset. Wrong or right, what he said made me feel guilty.

Rick went on saying stuff he’d heard from Rev. Bill. Then Dave spoke up. He was the house control who had me sign the agreement form on my first visit to the Academy, a baby-faced chubby man, famous in the Academy for being a 32-year-old virgin. He was Robin’s younger brother, and Robin and Angela coddled him because Rev. Bill said he had so much innocence. They protected him from the other women. Even though most of the women needed a man they felt too guilty to take Dave. He was a bit hyper and had a comedic sense of humor, but he always seemed to be in a personality conflict with somebody. He said, “ I've seen you several times trying to go upstairs, Steve. On spirit patrol we see your energy on the second floor all the time. I live up there; it causes me problems as a male, kinda-kinda like Ross said. The women are always on edge, and they g-get on me f-for every little thing. Every time we do spirit patrol we see your energy… on the second floor. You are causing me a lot of problems, and I-I don’t like it.” He stared at me with his brows furrowed, at once expecting me to react and challenging me to fight back, in which case he clearly world have escalated the conflict.

I was tempted to react in anger for a moment, but I knew his pattern too well. I sensed he was talking to the ghost of his brother, not me.

Rick said, “Dave, lets not make this into personal attacks for our own pet peeves.”
Dave shot back, “Don’t tell me how to talk, Rick!”

Periodically Rick posed the question as to whether I had changed my attitude. I tried to show I was cooperating and changing my attitude, but it didn't come natural. They kept voting down that I had made any internal change.

Rick said, “Don, you haven’t said anything. You want to add something?”

Don was a large, big boned man with a wide face and down-home look. He had been in the army, in Vietnam as a helicopter repairman. Now he worked for himself doing under-the-table repair jobs. He said, as he unconsciously fiddled with his shirt, “The problem is, Steve, you are addicted to her pussy. It’s like Rev. Bill says, your nose is so far up her cunt you can’t hear, (a-heh-heh-heh).” He giggled at his own tough talk. He’d been thinking of what to say for some time. He loved to talk strong male talk. “It happens to all of us, I've definitely been there, (a-heh-heh-heh)… Ah well, you got to have a little humor sometimes you guys… Anyway, I guess I have to get all serious now. I think you got to drain out, Steve; spend time doing things with the guys. But not by going to play basketball. Like Rev. Bill says, I think you are picking up foreign female energy from those guys, and that’s the worst kind. You remember that story Rev. Bill told about how some guy got in his head and it almost made him go crazy. That’s foreign female energy from another male. It’s hard to see because it is from a male and it’s like your own, you know what I mean. Because you can’t see it, it has more power to control you. Foreign female energy from a male will make you go into competition every time.”

I disagreed with him, but I tried to be reasonable. I said, “I hear what your saying, Don, but playing basketball is a great release and a lot of fun. It validates my male energy and keeps me in good shape. Rev. Bill always says competition doesn't work in indoor sports. Basketball is an outdoor sport. I think there is a healthy aspect to competition too.” I thought to myself, You guys ought to try it; then you might not be so fat and unhealthy.
Ross said, “I guess you just don’t want to hear what we are saying, Steve. Don’s talking about the energy behind it. Rev. Bill has also told you many times, it’s about time to hang up the cleats. What do you think he means by that?”

This sort of thing went on for some time, and then the phone rang. Rick answered. We could all tell by his manner that it was Rev. Bill on the other end. “Okay… Yes, we are working on it. I think he’s trying, you now, it’s hard… Yeah, his attitude… No, it’s not really changing…” Rick went silent, his eyes bulged slightly, and his fat, dark-eyed face turned stone sober with distress. He half turned away from us. It was obvious Rev. Bill was lighting into him. He said nothing for the next five minutes except an occasional, “okay.” The rest of us sat in tense silence waiting to find out what was going on.

When he got off the phone Rick was all puffed up and said in a loud, demanding voice, “Okay, this is what we have to do. Rev. Bill said in a nutshell that we are not owning it and we should not have taken this long. He says we are getting diddled and the life-force energy is being sucked out of us. He said what we have to do is say the Lord’s Prayer, for Steve, and all of us, to get the healing. We have to stand in a circle around Steve and say the Lord’s Prayer!”

I said, “I don’t think I want to do that.”

Rick said, “Do you want to get the healing or not? Do you want to stay stuck in hell? These spirits are not going away by themselves you know!”

I said, “How long?”

Rick said as he frantically motioned everyone to come around, “As long as it takes, man!”
They stood around me and held hands as Rick led them through the psychic techniques of grounding, running energy, and blowing roses to set up the energy. Then they began moving slowly in a circle and saying the Lord’s prayer over and over. I stood there looking down, passive on the outside but violently torn on the inside. Rick kept trying to increase the momentum of the prayer. Each time it ended he immediately started over.

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses,As we forgive those who trespass against us,And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever, amen.

They began moving faster in a circle. Sometimes they looked at me to see what I was doing, or if I was getting the healing. I felt like a child being shamed. I just wanted it to end. I felt totally self-conscious, like an idiot. I thought, Maybe I should pretend like I am getting a healing. Maybe I am getting a healing. Maybe I should just tell them to stop. No. Then there would be more trouble. They will say that I don’t want the healing, which would make me evil. I kept enduring it. My heart burned with a suffocating feeling. They kept going on and on. What does it mean to get the healing? I certainly did not feel safe.

No, I felt extraordinarily threatened. I wanted to tell them to stop. I tightly guarded myself inside till it was over. They began to lift their hands and say it louder. They kept spinning around me. I wondered if I should spin. I wondered if I should say the Lord’s Prayer with them. They lowered their hands and began to say it in a deep voice. This became a powerful drone, which went on for a long time. Over and over they kept repeating it in a low drone while they spun around me. I kept my eyes closed now and breathed within myself. I kept breathing into my heart to keep contact with myself, to keep contact with my heart. I felt a suffocating pressure around my heart. I kept breathing into my heart. I had to. I suddenly felt prepared to go into violent action. I needed to. When I was just about to bust through, they slowed down, and stopped. It had gone on for close to an hour.

At first they acted like I had got the healing, but Ross and David disagreed, and they concluded that I really didn’t. I didn’t care. I wished very badly that it had continued, so that I could violently escape it on my own, but it was over now. Rick said he would report back to Rev. Bill. We had been doing this right in front of the door to my room. I went into my room and was finally alone. I kept breathing into my heart. I had been floating, totally out of touch.

I kept breathing into my heart and put on one of the custom tapes I made for myself and lay on my bed. These were compilation tapes of the most beautiful, peaceful, and inspiring songs I could find. These tapes gave me a lot of comfort. I loved making them, and listening to them. They gave me hope that there was a loving, creative realm, and that God loved human beings like me. I made them late at night. So far I had made four. They had a variety of musicians on them, including Bobby McFerrin, Santana, John McLaughlin, and L. Shankar. I was deeply moved by “Adagio,” a haunting violin solo by L. Shankar. Then “Open Country Joy” by John Maclaughlin came on, followed by Samuel Barber’s “Adagio for Strings.” I had the version from Platoon where Charlie Sheen does a voiceover about needing to find a goodness and meaning to this life after going through incredible trauma. It moved me to tears. I kept breathing deep into my heart because I had to dispel the feeling of suffocating pressure. I felt like I was fighting for my life. Gradually I began to relax. The song and the words were beautiful, profound, caring, and tender. I listened and cried.

The Academy for Psychic Studies - Money for Nothing

Go on, click it!

So, I came by this little homage to the warm and nourishing hearts of Angela Silva, the president of the Academy for Psychic Studies and by association, Robin Dumolin, chief nickel counter.



On first read, this letter seems like a warm and nourishing statement of support for a poor, downcast member of the cult's platoon of drooling vegetables.

However, do take note of the highlighted statement: "We've noticed you are keeping up with your financial commitment..."

Now, many members of legitimate churches receive letters of support from their church leaders.  Most of them are hand-written as they offer a personal touch and a sense of humanity to their message.  The pastors I have known would not hesitate to make a personal visit or place a call when they find a member who needs their counsel and support.

Not a damn one of them gives a shit how much fucking money that member has or has not paid.

None are impressed with a member's bank account and none would be so crass, greedy and overall intrusive as to check a parishioner's accounts for outstanding debts or even keep a running tab on who owes what.

A church is not a fucking bank.  A church isn't goddamn accountant.  And it damn well doesn't give a flying fuck about providing service only to those who pay.

However the Witches of Ellsworth Street hang a picture Ebenezer Scrooge on their wall to provide daily inspiration to put business first, provide no sense of comfort and security to their insipid and entranced staff members and ensure anyone who they may reach out a gnarled hand towards crosses it with silver first.

I mean, once in the dead of winter, with the house freezing, with students, staff and the single visiting member of the public shivering and cold, I turned on the heater.  As soon as she entered the main area of Academy for Psychic Studies HQ, Angela Silva noticed the heater was running - AND TURNED THE FUCKER OFF.

Robin, not to be outdone in the area of parsimony, was seen with a bag of quarters collected from her half-sized coin-op washers (which meant you needed to run two loads just to wash your fucking socks) and coin-up candy machines (with treats so goddamn old, the Hershey bars were not only grey, the "HERSHEY" embossed in them had melted into "HEY") and proceed to count them, one at a time BY HAND.  My wife purchased a simple coin counter at Staples for $4.  That's $4 Robin could have used to buy a latte, so why the fuck should she spend it on something PRODUCTIVE?

And why should either Robin Dumolin or Angela Silva waste their precious time on a person in need of spiritual support, a pastoral pep talk, a little psychic assistance when they haven't made good on their inflated account balance?

Why shouldn't Angela Silva and Robin Dumolin ensure the financial state of their charges are sound and their bill-paying habits are timely and conscientious?  After all, you have to put business first.  They have to keep the doors open.  They are only following the imaginary dictate of Bill Duby's make-believe mentor Lewis Bostwick to "always make 'em pay".

And pay you will.  If you are in need of psychic assistance or a spiritual uplift, the assistance you receive and how high you be lifted up depends on how deep you can reach into your pocket.

in that letter of support, the Witches of Ellsworth Street have clearly and unequivocally made a determination that the subject of their idiotic attempt of superficial support was indeed financially worthy and monetarily able to support their evil agenda should be all you need to know about the true motives of Angela Silva and Robin Dumolin.

That's no surprise - we knew that already.

So I guess I am repetitive you fucking SRF troll!


On the other hand, take a look at this comment left by none other than PsychDoctorate:

PsychDoctorateNovember 15, 2012 9:11 PM

One question we should all be asking is why do they charge for their classes and so many other things which in all due respect should either be free or you should only pay a miniscule amount for.

Most meditation teachers and Sangha's charge very little to teach you proper meditation techniques. They have talks which cover so many topics from moral behavior, stages of meditation to living a virtuous life.

None of this is taught in places like SRF or BPI.

Nope never is!

If it were to be taught you had better beleive that they would not behave in such unethical, immoral and illegal fashions.

Morals and ethics go out the window when you are dealing with Narcissistic and anti-social individuals. It is usually the first thing to go.

Buyer beware!


  

A Guest Post:: Work Will Set You Free at the Academy for Psychic Studies

OK, watch this video first.

It will make one hell of a lot of sense

considering what we had to go through.

Our first Guest Post is from "Anonymous".

I think you'll find this post interesting and informative.

At the Academy for Psychic Studies, there is a strong emphasis on performing manual labor or other "work" for the benefit of the cult and its leaders.

The work was usually called either a "love project" (meaning you were expected to use all your available free time working for no pay in furtherance of an Academy for Psychic Studies commercial enterprise or the benefit of the leader's property holdings such as the "Blue Sky Ranch" in Bethel Island CA, and you'd better "love it" or else...) or (and this is for real) a work "party", where you could "party" with your fellow inmates toiling in the blazing sun or freezing cold.

The work assigned (sorry, that should be "agreed to" - my bad...) by the men was generally construction work involving a great deal of manual labor . The work assigned (sorry, that should be "agreed to" - my bad again...) to the women ranged from clerical work to lighter construction tasks.

Of course, the work was closely watched - not for quality but only for its quantity. Most slave labor projects at the Academy for Psychic Studies (which, I guess, was all of them) were completed in somewhat less than professional quality. Some looked like one of those DIY project gone wrong you would see on HGTV. Others, like the "self-help" recordings were nearly good-looking but had enough flaws to have that amateurish patina to them.

But, the work all got done. Not well done, but somewhat done. The Academy for Psychic Studies' Health and Wealth recordings were all completed even if no one purchased a single one of them (and these days, few even consider Health and Wealth recordings for anything but overpriced drink coasters). The rooms were painted and renovated for new students who never arrived.

At the "Blue Sky Ranch" the farm houses, all built on swampland, were remodeled and renovated by inmates of the warm and nourishing Academy for Psychic Studies concentration camps in preparation for relaxing weekend psychic trance retreats.  Of course none were paid for their labor.

And when those relaxing and rejuvenating retreats were held for the benefit of those who worked for free to create that blessed retreat space, they had to pay some $300 have a day of relaxation.  In their infinite wisdom (and because some of the SRF inmates still had a few bucks hidden under the mattress) the leaders would allow no one onto the "people's farm" unless those people were working or paying.  Later, those farm houses were seen sinking, consumed by the swamp.  I guess God has a sense of humor after all...

Help me inaugurate this guest post by adding your comment or a story of your own. Remember, you can email it OR use the anonymous drop box on my MSN SkyDrive.


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Arbeit Macht Frei -the Nazi slogan meaning “work sets you free” was put over the gate to the concentration camp.

At SRF they follow a similar slogan with their work projects. Every weekend or sometimes during class times they would put you to work as a slave.

There was no reward (or pay) from the cult for doing this; actually you were treated worse for doing this work.

What was the reason for these work projects? A very simple reason: free labor that was used to benefit the cult leaders directly.

They even had the gall to lie and say that you were working on your own place implying that you would be taken care of when you retired.

Many slaved working on their Blue Sky Ranch in Bethel Island only to find out that it was the personal property of the cult leaders. As many find out the hard way, you are used for free labor and thrown away as if you were a McDonald’s hamburger wrapper, all at the whim of the Cult Leaders.

If you questioned all this work they would say that you were becoming more spiritual by doing your work projects. That was hard to swallow when you realized that all the Cult Leaders themselves never lifted a finger except to record how much work you did and even dispute that you didn’t work enough.

The actual slogan they have hung in their school is “Freedom is the Essence of Life”, and then they would explain to you that you needed to work in order to become more free,

When you noticed that your friends were becoming poorer and were being stolen from there would be a Staff meeting to tell you what a scumbag you are which was how the Cult leaders publicly humiliated any people that they feared were not following their wishes.


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I guess you can say at the Academy for Psychic Studies, not only would work set you free, you'll work for free as well.  But of course, work is an important part of your spiritual growth and unfoldment.  And since your spiritual growth and unfoldment is an eternal process, you'd better roll up your sleeves and get to work.

One woman there suffered from Multiple Sclerosis.  We all knew it.  So did the leaders.  Instead of giving her accommodation for her illness, she was given trance after trance after trance to believe she wasn't sick - only stubborn.  This woman would drive hundreds of miles a day at the leader's orders and would work like a woman possessed (and I suppose we were all possessed - by devils in dresses).   After many years of this beneficial trance and working for the cult day, night, weekends, holidays, sick days and vacations to achieve spiritual growth and unfoldement despite her illness, she died.

I just read the infamous "Arbeit Macht Frei" sign at Auschwitz has been stolen.

Now we know where it wound up...


                                         

Shock and Awe

You're going deeper... and deeper... and...
HEY, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIVE ME YOUR WALLET!

Obedience

One main tenet of the Academy for Psychic Studies is their insistence on the obedience to God. Of course the God you have to obey is the God who is resident in the bodies of Rev. William Duby, Angela Silva or Robin Dumolin.

And that God works through the holy and sacred bodies of those individuals, so you’d better do exactly what they tell you as it’s a direct message from God Himself.

So no matter how crazy, messed up, dumb or otherwise nonsensical the commands were from the leaders, it was your responsibility to execute in the exact manner directed. There is no room for your own initiative at the Academy.

There’s no room to help yourself to, well, help yourself either.

The instructions from the leaders of the Academy were ultimately self-serving. Sometimes they were subtle. Sometimes they were so clearly and unabashedly issuing orders that would do nothing but enrich themselves.

Many other times, there was a directive to conduct a “healing” on a wayward follower by instituting warm and nourishing spiritual curatives such as having the victim's peers encircle and scream at him.

Other times, the victim was followed by a trusted member at all times until the victim was determined to be back in a compliant state or judged incorrigible and immediately expelled from the group. I know of several who were cornered or otherwise dragged into a “special” one-on-one warm and nourishing healing session with a founder. That healing was generally several hours of being screamed at in front of as many people as could be gathered.

I saw the founder of the Academy beat one woman as the price of disobedience. That wasn’t a spiritual beating, either. I have to admit he waved his hands just like in a psychotic reading but he wasn't moving energy around - it was more like punching down bread dough without the dough part.

The amount of daily spiritual/psychological warfare against the followers was so intense it was absolutely amazing no one would raise a question.

Of course, there were wayward followers every living day of the year. So many were singled out for punishment I began to notice a new demon was named by the leaders every week. Usually it was one of the followers who missed an important meeting – like the meeting about how important it was to sit there and do nothing unless directed or the meeting about how to fold the cult’s newspapers in a spiritually correct manner.

All these directions, punishments and full-on beatings were all delivered in an appropriately spiritually warm and nourishing manner at every opportunity. Certainly there is no shortage of warmth and nourishment at the Academy.

So if the followers of the Academy for Psychic Studies were showered with so much warmth and nourishment, and if they were indeed so happy, healthy, wealthy and whole as we are told, there wouldn’t be any mind control or any overbearing authority, would there? After all, happy people would never have strongly authoritarian personalities rule their lives. Mentally and emotionally healthy people won’t ever allow their own morals and ethics to be put aside for the sake of someone in authority.

If you believe all that, I’d like you to join me in a game of Three Card Monty.

Some time back, Stanley Milgram conducted an experiment to see how far people would go if they were directed by an authority figure to do something utterly crazy.

Milgram’s crazy acts weren’t about being directed to stand and watch with intense interest when one of your colleagues was being accused of imaginary crimes and sexual perversion against people who don’t exist. Nor did Milgram make people videotape couples in bed or watch and record everything one of the followers did for weeks on end. Those crazy acts were perpetrated by the Academy for Psychic Studies.

Milgram just asked people to shock the crap out of someone.

Really quick, Stanley Milgram set up a psychological experiment to test obedience. He set up a phony electric shock machine that looked like it delivered shocks up to 450 volts. Milgram then told a random subject to ask a “learner” (one of his shills) a question – if the answer was wrong, the subject was told to zap the learner with an electric shock.

If the subject didn’t want to deliver a shock, a dude in a white coat would come in and say he’d better keep going because the subject agreed to shock the victim and besides, the white coats will take responsibility if the learned gets fucked up or dies.

So understanding all that, most of the subjects kept giving shocks all the way up to 450 volts – which is pretty much lethal.

What Milgram figured out (besides that most people will always do as they are told) was:

• …A subject who has neither ability nor expertise to make decisions (especially in a crisis) will leave decision making to the group and its hierarchy. The group is the person's behavioral model.
• "the essence of obedience consists in the fact that a person comes to view themselves as the instrument for carrying out another person's wishes, and they therefore no longer see themselves as responsible for their actions. Once this critical shift of viewpoint has occurred in the person, all of the essential features of obedience follow".

The leaders of the Academy for Psychic Studies (the warm and nourishing Witches of Ellsworth Street) indoctrinate their hapless followers in the notion that God requires their obedience to the leadership.  No one has the ability to make even the simplest of decisions.  The confused followers are reduced to eating whatever meals are dispensed by the leadership (at the the price the leaders want to charge) as well as getting along by going along.  If you've ever been on an Academy for Psychotic Studies field trip, fair demonstration, weekend retreat or "vacation", you saw this kind of behavior first hand.  If you haven't - try to steer clear.

All the time the group is under control by the leaders, the limp followers believe in their hearts their mission is to serve the world by serving those who lead the Academy for Psychic Studies.  Their own sense of self is a confused mess of what little is left of their personality and the perverted framework of disconnected aphorisms and useless garbage implanted by the leaders.

The founder would lead daily hypnosis and mind-control sessions to instill the notion that his anointed women and only they were more than representatives of his psychotic church - there were the embodiment of his psychotic church. In the founder's mind, if the followers believed the leaders were not just messengers of God but re-creations of God, the followers will do anything the leaders say. It worked.

Not only were we followers loyal, we submitted ourselves to exploitation with a warm and nourishing smile on our faces. After all, we were just doing God's work as directed by the Gods in female bodies and if God wants a gold-plated Cadillac, we need to work extra hard so they can have one. Or three.

More so if God wanted us to jump in the shit of an un-compliant follower. The malcontent would be asking us to shun, embarrass, harass, demean, de-humanize and otherwise treat him as an object. The dehumanization was so intense, leaders would discuss punishments with their loyal followers while the victim was present, trying to remain calm and passive while anticipating his punishment and facing the humiliation of being stripped of his humanity among those who would be his friends only if he was compliant to the leaders.

It's no wonder why so many of us were gathered to watch a "healing session" that featured the demon of the week. It's the same brutal and primitive thinking that a public execution would deter any potential criminal activity. We know now that doesn't happen. The Academy for Psychic Studies doesn't care about that. They want to instill fear and compel submission in all their followers. The more you stay with the Witches of Ellsworth Street, the more likely it will be they will drag you into their Kangaroo Kourt for conviction of imaginary crimes. They'll direct the followers to mete out a punishment, then explain to your survivors that your death was due to a lynch mob that was out of their control.

So no matter what you believe about Milgram or the ability of people to do really evil shit, you’ve got to believe if the followers of the Academy for Psychic Studies can sit by while beatings, verbal abuse (I saw one such incident start with “**** YOU FUCKING CUNT! And end an hour later with “FUCK YOU”), the extraordinary control of having someone watched 24/7, women are manipulated into controlling a man and inducing him to work to serve the leader (which is exactly what happened to me and other men), and any loyal member would strip-search or otherwise degrade a seemingly wayward colleague at the direction of the leaders are doing all that because they have been trained to be obedient to the leadership and not the good morals and ethics we all learned.

The group think, group dynamics and the ritualistic Seig Heil-ing all loyal members are forced to engage in, all the group activities, the group study, the group bathing and so on have built up a culture of conformity and an expectation of compliance with the threat of public humiliation and unusual punishment so mentally and emotionally cruel, that practice would have been outlawed even in a California prison.

Group-think and group cohesion sets up conditions for group compliance at the hands of authority figures. Take another look at what Milgram found:

• (when) the participant was joined by one or two additional "teachers" (also actors, like the "learner"). The behavior of the participants' peers strongly affected the results.
• In [an experiment where there the teacher was working solo] two teachers refused to comply and only 4 of 40 participants continued in the experiment.
• In Experiment 18, the participant performed with another "teacher" who complied fully. In that variation, 37 of 40 continued with the experiment.

When Santa Clara University re-created the Milgram Experiment, they found the same damn thing. If there was another person sitting at the shock machine, is was far more likely that a shock would be delivered and it was far more likely the shocking team would go all the way and deliver a maximum voltage shock. It was entirely because one of the team members would tell the other to do as the white coat dude said and keep going.

The Witches of Ellsworth fully understand the effect of group-think on the thinking and emotions of the individuals. They also understand the effectiveness of directing the group to surround and overwhelm an errant individual – even though they have no earthly idea why that evil process works.

Now that you know the Witches of Ellsworth Street will use the remaining compliant zombies to eliminate your individuality a little at a time and that one of the most famous psychological experiments of all time showed how strong obedience to authority and the power a group has on an individual (so powerful was the data Milgram collected and so important were his findings to the study of group dynamics, Milgram is even required reading in sociology) would you agree with the Witches that the Academy for Psychic Studies practices nothing less than daily warmth and nourishment?

Or maybe the Academy is serving up something

you’d rather not step in?

Academy for Psychic Studies - So Stupid, It's Amazing

Robin Dumolin has added business titan

to her legal genius and

scholarly intellectual accomplishments.

A Quick One Today:


I was noodling around the interweb for something called "blowing roses".  Yeah, I know you were expecting me to search for some other kind of blowing but you'll have to take my word for it this time.

I landed in the United States Patent and Trademark Office which has registered a trademark for "Blowing Roses" by none other than Robin Dumolin, who was working on behalf of the Spiritual Rights Foundation.

Here is what was registered at the USPTO:

Click to Enlarge

if you have a strong stomach...

Yep, it's that infamous VHS video we foisted on an unsuspecting public and we were coerced into buying so the leaders can perpetuate our nightmare of mind control at home as well as behind the prison walls of the Academy for Psychic Studies.

Now as with all media, the VHS video "Blowing Roses" had its days of fame.  Unfortunately it was longer than I would have liked.  Fortunately, as the old VHS stand-by began to give way to the DVD revolution, "Blowing Roses" had a hard time making the transition to digital.  In fact, I don't recall ever seeing "Blowing Roses" ever in a DVD case.  If you look at the "Health and Wealth" e-commerce site, you won't find it there either.

"Blowing Roses" had its heyday up until the early 2000's when sales fell as DVD became the format of choice and people were letting their VHS decks start gathering dust.  That's about the time "Blowing Roses" began gathering dust as well.  By 2003, "Blowing Roses" had blown through it's run and was no longer desired by consumers.

So when I spotted this record at the USPTO, I knew I had to laugh.  I just wasn't sure for how long:

Go Ahead, Click to Enlarge.

You know you want to.

I had to blink several times before I could believe Robin Dumolin, business genius, intellectual superpower, psychic-ly gifted clairvoyant and incomparable expert on legal matters did something so fucking stupid, stupidity would have to be re-defined to accommodate her inexplicable action.

In the year 2003, Robin Dumolin paid $600 to renew a trademark on a product they were not selling.

Yep, you got it right.  Robin Dumolin paid $600 to protect a trademark on a product that they not only sold so few of, paying for a trademark registration was not worth the time or money when they did it the first time, she compounded that idiot move by paying even more to renew the trademark when the product was essentially dead.

Now in 2003, there was a long-standing international agreement called the "Berne Convention" which gave products like "Blowing Roses" copyright protection for free.  If you wanted US copyright protection, you'd fill out a simple form and pay about $25 for 35 or so years of protection.  Trademarks are generally used for products that are established as a market leader or that have such a long product lifetime you can create related products to complement your original one.  Why Robin Dumolin decided to pry $600 from the grip of her gnarled fingers when she could have protected the video and the title "Blowing Roses" for free boggles the mind.  However, she did it.

In case you need more proof, take a look at the declaration of use letter Robin Dumolin signed in 2003:

You Gotta Click This!

Those dot-matrix numbers on the declaration that looks like the cash register receipt you get from the supermarket is pretty much a receipt from the USPTO for $600 and it is dated as of 2003 - when there was no one buying the original VHS version of "Blowing Roses" and the resident video and computer experts at the Academy could find no way to convert it to DVD (I know this as I spoke with the guy trying to do it; yes I did know how to do it at the time and no I wasn't about to give the guy any of my help).

Besides, by 2003, the "Health and Wealth" line of products were so dated and unattractive, the public had little interest in them.  A sale was a rarity and some of the items were being hawked on Ebay for idiotic prices that couldn't even cover the cost of listing.

Paying $600 for eight years of trademark protection when you don't have a product to sell and no one was buying it anyway is either pure clairvoyant genius or the action of a drooling idiot.

I'll be sending Robin a bucket to hang under her chin. 

Now I am sure you are asking why would I or anyone rub the face of saintly and benevolent Robin Dumolin in the mess she made.  Revenge?  Vengeance (which I guess is the same damn thing) or maybe it's the deep, unhealed psychic wounds inflicted by an uncaring and ignorant world on my spirit and body.

Hell no!  When was it that Robin Dumolin, Angela Silva or Bill Duby ever let even an minor inconsequential error on anyone's part go unnoticed, unpunished and un-excoriated in public?  Considering all the public floggings and waterboardings we witnessed over the years, I think we all know the answer.

So this exposure of the idiotic, reckless and brain-dead actions of Robin Dumolin can't possibly be vengeance.

It's justice.

So I'm crazy. ...and your point is?

So now that I have been declared inaccurate, wrong, immoral, unspiritual, fattening and otherwise unhealthful, I've got nothing to lose by going for it.

What "it" is, is more background on the legal fight Joy and I won decisively.

I'm going to add selected portions of the Spiritual Rights Foundation's lame attempt to oppose our motion to declare we are the winners in the action and that Robin Dumolin, Angela Silva, et.al. are responsible for our legal costs.

I held off for a lot of reasons.  Most of which was to honor the request of those who were somewhat frightened and whatever else at the thought of Angela Silva and Robin Dumolin filing a fucked-up lawsuit.  Secondly, I somehow bought into the view that the lawsuit should be left somewhat underground, keeping the details out of the public eye.  Third - I don't even know what the fuck that is.

So now, I'll send you a little about some of the things that went on during the lawsuit and a few of the reasons this blog is still here, unrestricted and able to get away with all the things I do: because (despite claims to the contrary) I have the right to speak about those things that are true and accurate in my memory, true and accurate in the memory of those who relate those stories to me and any damn opinions I express are totally protected by the same damn thing the Witches of Ellsworth Street hide behind every day: The First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America.

The first thing I'll show you is their ex parte (meaning the assholes got a hearing at a court without us being told about it) motion to shorten the time we had to respond to their idiotic lawsuit.

So we had to scramble to respond.  I know this.  I can tell you truthfully (with Joy as a witness and our attorney to back us up) that we spent many a late night and a couple of all-nighters getting the information we needed for our defense together.  We didn't sit down and write long and unnecessary declarations.  We collected the Spiritual Rights Foundation's own materials and used all of it to support our defense.  

I searched the web for up to 10 hours a day.  I scanned issue after issue of "American Spirit Newspaper".  I contacted former SRF members (many of whom were less than eager to support our defense) and parsed ISHI Hypnosis materials.  Basically, we took SRF's own words, rolled them up, smacked them on the snout with it then shoved it up their ass.

So of course, their attorney came back whining:

Of course, he didn't have a reason to dodge the huge legal boulder about to roll on his head, so he added statements from a couple of other people.  Actually, I think it wasn't really him who asked for these statements.  Take a look at who wrote them and what they said and you'll see:

Yup, it's the two who made all the ruckus on Joy's YouTube page and on her blog.  For some reason, they never did comment directly on this blog.  I wonder why...

Now, neither one is qualified to discuss the legal foundations to duck out of a legal obligation.  Neither even tried to talk about the legal incorrectness of ambiguity of pronouncing us the winners and SRF et. al. the losers.  Nope, they kept talking about something that was already determined was legal: they complained everything here is a lie and they were pissed off that their tantrums on Joy's blog resulted in her readers giving them both an over-the-knee, bare ass spanking in public.

I guess that's why they didn't want to comment here.

Still, even though they used two young women as human shields (two young women who were not parties to the lawsuit and whose statements were so totally irrelevant, it was laughable) the Witches of Ellsworth Street themselves made a statement that they were oh so forgiving and that they really didn't mean to file a lawsuit that costs tens of thousands of dollars to defend so because they really didn't mean it and they spent a lot of time praying during their mani-pedi at the day spa while deep in meditation at their religious retreat to Maui, they really can't be compelled to follow the law.

Let me show you how well that all worked out: Order! Order! Order of the Court!

Now I have always been at liberty to show you the actual settlement we had with the Spiritual Rights Foundation as the idiots never added a confidentiality clause.  I mean, if you just made an embarrassing settlement with a blogger who is presumably itching to rub a little more shit in your face you'd want to keep a settlement on the DL, right?  Not so if you are Robin and Angela.  

The same people who were eager to enforce silence in an illegal manner were too fucking stupid to realize they could have done it in a totally legal manner.

Wouldn't you think the public revelation of the private defeat of the Witches of Ellsworth Street was something they would want to avoid at all costs?  So why the fuck didn't they do what was reasonable and necessary to gain my cooperation to keep me silent?

Oh, because the Witches don't believe in reason and cooperation - they believe in impulsive and random outbursts to maintain domination.  My bad...

I literally laughed my ass off when I realized there was no confidentiality in the settlement agreement. I laughed even harder when I realized are so good at displaying idiotic behavior, they are constantly re-defining idiocy every time they do something they hoped would gain them power, control or money.  I mean, the bishop quit after they cut her stipend and reduced her earnings right?  The Blue Sky Ranch had to be torn up after some asshole informed the county the place was illegal - which resulted in a lowered market value, right?  And they still can't get anyone into their mind control classes, no matter how many attempts at re-making their evil image they conduct.

Given all that, why wouldn't they shoot themselves in the foot when they had a golden opportunity to keep things quiet? 

So take a look at this crap.  Basically, the bottom line is: SRF goes away and can't sue me for any other things they think I might have done to them (and I wouldn't put it past them to make a few things up), I get to keep delivering my own brand of assholiness to eager readers and I still get to go after them for trying buttfuck me with a limp dick.

Since they wanted to post a five page response, I figured it was a nothing give-away.  So I agreed to it, thinking there's no statement the Witches and the rest of the vacuous and deranged followers can say to make them look better than a steaming pile of dung.  The Witches did not disappoint.  This infamous response had all the reception they didn't want and none of what they were seeking.

During the negotiations, I actually told them I would link to them and post that link on every page.  That would allow them to control the content, receive more prominence (which would turn out to be more ridicule) and readers will be able to see the SRF side of the story.  I thought it was really generous.  Everyone else thought I lost my mind giving them so much.  I knew better though: as predicted and in perfect character, the witches considered it an insult and refused the best damn offer they would have received from anyone.  

So, they attached their two pages of random, pointless purulent discharge only demanding the opportunity to post it.  That they always had that opportunity and that I was soliciting their input was irrelevant to them.  They claimed their lawsuit was only intended to give them the chance to speak on this blog.  Again, another long stretch of the truth from the Witches.

Those dumbasses actually thought everyone reading this blog will have an epiphany after reading their statement and the unwary seeker will be so moved by their warm and nourishing attacks on we who were victimized by their greed and avarice, that the decades-long sordid and evil history of SRF would be erased and that Robin Dumolin and Angela Silva would be elevated to the level of saints carried on a chaise lounge papered with hundred-dollar bills.

I would have loved to see their faces when membership dropped anyway, they had to sell the fucking farm, their ISHI Hypnosis cash cow collapsed, their most eager female follower and their Bishop left to find a more fair environment.

Actually, I can imagine it - or I really don't need to as it would be the same scowling countenances displaying pure hate and frustration.  You might say it's kind of like when you tell your kid being denied Chicken McNuggets and Coke for every meal and instead being fed fresh vegetables, whole grain bread, salad and roast beef does not fucking constitute child abuse.

Anyway, I'd recommend having Robin and Angela sue your white ass because not only would you beat them, you will wind up costing them more money than they ever got during your imprisonment.  I mean, that's how it worked for me - except I cost them about five times what I lost to them when you add up their legal costs and all the Blue Sky Ranch goose shit and renovations I rubbed in their faces.

There's a lot more shit that can be rubbed in their faces.  How about finding a bit on your own?