May 9, 2026 (David Friedman again)

Folks, we need to talk about David Friedman. We did so in an earlier blog (February 23, 2026), but we need to invoke him again because he is (or was) a font of information, even though I didn't know it when he was alive. Friedman visited me a lot during the time I was Pearl's caregiver, usually accompanying me on CSUN walks, often on a Saturday night. The poor man was woebegone, always worried about his job and his failing marriage. He didn't talk about much else; it was difficult being his sounding board on these occasions.

Nowdays, in this era of ridiculous infotainment life and outrageous prices, I extend my CSUN walk up to Ralphs market in Granada Hills. I do this to save gas money, and I get my nightly exercise at the same time. On my way up to Ralphs, I pass the giant CSUN parking lot at Lassen and Lindley. About six months ago (apprx. November 2025), something about that parking lot triggered a memory of a walk with David Friedman.

One night, perhaps ten or twelve years ago, he came over and instead of going southeast through the campus, as we usually did, he wanted to walk down Halsted toward Lindley, and when we got to that street, he asked if we could turn north toward Lassen. He seemed nervous about something - not his usual domestic angst but something that was happening in the moment. As we passed the Lindley dorms, I asked him what was up: "Why are we going this way?" He said, "Let's just cross the street first. I'll tell you when we get across."

I said, "Okay" and when we reached the big parking lot, he said, "We're being followed." I said, "What do you mean, 'we're being followed'", thinking it was just more Friedman paranoia. I should point out that he wasn't on drugs. He'd even quit smoking pot by this point. But he was on edge, and kept checking his phone. I repeated: "Whataya mean we're being followed?" He said, "Well...it's not 'we.' I'm being followed. But in a way, you're the one being followed because they're using me to follow you."

By now, I'd had enough. I said, "What is this about?" and he finally explained what was going on. A group of people - bad guys we all know - had being following Friedman in his car, all the way over to my building. He used to park about a block away, and I would meet him and we'd walk through CSUN, but on this night he had been followed, which was why he suggested an alternate route. He referred to this following practice as "tagging" and he seemed to think he was in trouble that night: "for some of the things I've told you".

I wasn't aware that he had "told me" anything.

"Tagging", according to Friedman, was a form of triangulation where a number of cars (two or more) follow a subject and triangulate his position by using electronic devices. An operation of this type was apparently underway on the night Friedman led me on this walk. After letting me in on what was happening, he tried to link me to his trouble by asserting that I was in trouble too, by association. "You're in trouble because you are with me". That is paraphrased, but close to verbatim, and Friedman was couching his terms. He didn't want me to know the extent of the trouble he was in.

When we crossed Lassen at Lindley and reached the huge CSUN parking lot, suddenly there was Pat Fordyce. He must've driven up in his car, but he may have parked somewhere (perhaps in the lot). I say this because I can't remember for certain if he was on foot or in his car when we encountered him. But he was definitely there, and he warned Friedman that his pursuers were nearby. Pat was also versed on this "tagging" business. On a side note, recalling the Pat/Friedman Tour of October 2010 (described in a recent blog), we again see Pat "assisting" Friedman on this occasion at Lassen/Lindley (perhaps in 2014), when in real time they didn't seem to know each other. Of course, we now know they were both cult members, involved in sex and cocaine, and they may have known each other a whole lot better than we realized.

Getting back to the incident, after Pat warned us about the automotive "taggers", Friedman suggested we should turn right at the top of the parking lot. In my memory, part of his reasoning was that we would be out of range of the bad guy's devices by being away from Lindley Avenue. Another part was that, according to Friedman, "they couldn't enter that section of the parking lot without chancing arrest" (perhaps because it was outside the bad guys' area of protection).

It is important to note that the bad guys (who we ALL KNOW) are protected, at least to an extent, by an Authoritative Entity, be it a police department, or a corrupt State system, or by links to Influencial Cocaine Suppliers. The point is that they are protected...to an extent Thus, they know they are not going to get arrested for merely "tagging" and following someone with their iPhones or electronic devices. Heck, they didn't get arrested for torturing my Mom in 1988 at the Seventh-day Adventist Church. 

So it's not unusual that the bad guys in this situation did not get arrested or detained.

What did happen, after Pat warned Friedman that the bad guys had triangulated our position, was that a car appeared and pulled into the parking lot. It rolled down the northern entryway we were on, the east-west strip just south of the hill.

This is the part of the story where you need to fasten your seatbelt, because in that car were Two People We All Know, and they were involved in a cocaine transaction that went bad.

(to be continued)

Meanwhile, Rolling Stone has released their All Time Top 100 Guitar Solos, of which maybe 20 are deserving, but of course that's Rolling Stone, a magazine so corporate and lacking in ideas that it named itself after a famous rock band. Let's do our own guitar solo list, every one deserving of its place, because unlike the clowns at RS (where the Hipster Factor figures in), we truly know us some guitar, and we are experts on guitar solos.

Here are the Top Fifteen: 

1) "Burn" Ritchie Blackmore

2) "Comfortably Numb" David Gilmour

3) "Rock Bottom" Michael Schenker 

4) "Still So Many Lives Away" Uli Jon Roth

5) "Desert Rose" Eric Johnson

6) "La Villa Strangiato" Alex Lifeson

7) "Starship Trooper" Steve Howe

8) "Crying to the Sky" Bill Nelson

9) "Something" George Harrison

10) "Riding on the Wind" Tipton/Downing

11) "Blue Sky" Dickie Betts

12) "White Room" Eric Clapton

13) "Just One Victory" Todd Rundgren

14) "Lady Fantasy" Andy Latimer

15) "Phoenix" Powell/Turner 

Of course, there are the legendary FM radio solos: "Stairway", "Watchtower", and "Freebird", which I saw the original Lynyrd Skynyrd perform in 1976 in San Bernardino on a bill with Black Sabbath and Peter Frampton...who himself was about to chart the biggest selling live album of that era, "Frampton Comes Alive".

Rock lives. So does truth.

God bless and tons of love.

April 20, 2026

Hi folks. I'm listening to early Iberian organ music, trying to break, at least temporarily, from my daily Wagner habit, which has transfixed me for over two years now ("Parsifal"and "Lohengrin" mostly). I just finished watching one of the best documentaries I've ever seen, music or otherwise, about Lee Kerslake, the great Uriah Heep drummer who became even more well known as part of Ozzy Osbourne's first band, which was initially supposed to be a band (called Blizzard of Oz) and not just an Ozzy solo vehicle with backing players. The documentary focuses on the last few years of Kerslake's life, as he battles cancer and substantial physical difficulties, but what shines through all of that is his indomitable spirit. I must cut in here to say that he had the same birthday as me. We Aries are incapable of giving up, no matter how grim the going gets, but the thing about this guy is that he was even more unstoppable than most.

The storyline is largely about his "bucket list" desire to record and release his first solo album, which he begins working on at age 70 (his cancer in remission). He hopes to complete it before he dies. Old friends like Ian Paice and all the members of KISS visit him during this time.

Besides being a great drummer (Ian Paice compares him to John Bonham), Kerslake was also an all-around musician who played piano and was known as a fantastic harmony singer. As a former choir member myself, I very much appreciate harmony singing, and it's interesting about Uriah Heep...their album, "Sweet Freedom" was one of the first I ever bought when I "graduated" from Top 40 radio to "serious rock". I bought it with my paper route money in the Summer of 1973. Later that Summer, I met Pat Forducci, who was a huge Heep fan. I liked them, had the one album, and also knew their classic songs "Easy Livin'" and "July Morning", and I thought David Byron was an incredible singer, but it wasn't until about 2020, when I bought "Demons and Wizards" and "The Magician's Birthday", that I realised how great this band was. On a side note, I used to play their music (along with Canterbury bands like Caravan) for Pearl to energize her when her dementia was bad. The last album we ever listened to together was "Demons and Wizards". You can read about it in "The Summer of Green Parrots".

Listening to these records, almost 50 years after they were released, I began to finally appreciate Uriah Heep, who I now think should be included with Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath on the list of all-time hard rock greats. Their strength was songs, rather than flashy playing, but they also had superstar musicians including Gary Thain, one of the most fluent and unique bass players in rock history. In fact, the rhythm section of Thain and Lee Kerslake was what made them so powerful and provided the backdrop for the organ of Ken Hensley, the standout vocals of Byron (the best of all the classic early hard rock singers), and the guitar work of Mick Box, the last original Heep member who is still alive to this day.

Anyhow, watch this documentary (available for free on Tubi). It's great just for showing the power of music. You don't have to be a Uriah Heep fan to enjoy it. 

Sorry I haven't written for a while. It's been a combination of being busy writing my next book (the shocking "Diane's House") and being affected by the revelations within it, which are new to me since 2024, due to deliberate memory blocking by bad guys and my own (successful) efforts to retrieve those memories through self-hypnotic meditation. You know how that works. Anyhow, I've gone through a bit of an anxiety-related depression. I've recently felt precarious in my life, and of course that's not a subject I wish to blog about, nor would you wish to read it (unless you are a bad guy, in which case it might make your day).

At the moment, I'm just coming off a five day span when I was without electrical power in my apartment. As if my life wasn't weird enough, right? At first, the outage was in my unit and the three surrounding mine on both floors. The other 27 units in the building were not affected, and the three others that did lose power (besides mine) had it restored in less than 24 hours. For some reason, mine took five days. DWP said that a certain type of coil burned out in the main switching box and had to be specially ordered. 

The late, occasionally great Steve Jennings had a saying that I've never forgotten. He said there are certain situations in life where the only prudent answer is "oh."

That was what I thought during the five days I was sleeping (and spending parts of my evenings in) my blacked-out apartment. I just thought "oh." I have learned by trial and error not to complain too much. Look up a guy named Paul Bennewitz.

Anyhow...I hope you had a nice Ritchie Blackmore's Birthday. Can you believe he is 81? My electricity was fortunately restored in time for me to watch the livestream video posted by his wife and bandmate Candice of a birthday interview with Ritchie that she moderated, 54 minutes long. It was so popular that RB fans clamored for more, and they ended up doing an additional two interviews, both also near an hour long. That's almost three hours of Ritchie answering questions, including great insights about Edward Van Halen, Tommy Bolin, Rory Gallagher, Brian May, and many other guitarists and musicians. They're on Youtube if you wanna check 'em out. Ritchie has health problems that he mentions late in the first clip, and in the early going he appears tired. But he warms up after that and when he does, he becomes the great rock n' roll storyteller that he's known for being. And very funny. Ritchie is one of the great dry humorists in rock or anywhere else. 

Speaking of guitarists, I went to see Uli Jon Roth on Friday April 10 at The Canyon in Agoura Hills. Grimsley drove. It was an improved experience over the 2024 Uli show at The Whisky, which was also quite good but in a sardine-can club that lacked a video screen for Uli's visuals, which contain replicas of his Star Wars-inspired oil paintings, and are an integral part of his show. The sound and visuals at The Canyon were top notch, as was his band, which features two additonal guitarists who sometimes "triple up" on Uli's lead breaks, creating an effect that is sonically breathtaking for the audience but seems like a walk in the park for the musicians.Uli played his standard 3-hour show, two sets, the first unaccompanied, playing classical pieces on his Sky guitar to backing orchestral tapes. On a side note, it is unfortunate that a musician of his stature has to play this type of music in front of an audience who, in the SRO areas near the bar, are drinking with friends, and are much more interested in their ongoing conversations (which are shouted over the music) than they are in what is emanating from the stage. Drunk people who talk over the music at concerts is a modern day phenomenon, but all-too regular and tolerated. Sigh....(but I am still glad I went). 

I had a nice birthday lunch at Bubba Gump in Universal Citywalk, treated by my sister Vickie. I hadn't been to Universal since the Rush Clockwork Angels concert on November 19, 2012. The Gibson closed ten months later, on September 6, 2013, to make way for the Harry Potter attraction at Universal's theme park. So, 13 1/2 year's since I'd been there, but it was fun and the food was great (a gigantic order of fish n chips for me).

That's about all I know for the moment. I'll try to write more often. Gotta get my mojo back...

Thanks for reading. Tons of love as always.

February 23, 2026 (David Friedman)

Folks, in the last blog I mentioned The Pat/Friedman Tour, a walking and driving excursion through the northeastern sector of Northridge (but centered in the White Oak Avenue corridor) that featured the disclosure, by Pat Forducci and David Friedman, of "locations of interest" (criminal incidents unknown to me before this night) that occurred in the 1980s. The Tour took place during a party I attended in that area in October 2010. I was invited to this party by David Friedman, who picked me up from Pearl's house and drove me to it. 

David Friedman, if you knew him, seemed friendly enough, if troubled and self-centered. He only ever talked about himself and his endless grief from work and his family life. In all situations, he painted himself as the victim, but in truth, David Friedman was a predator, at least as a young adult.

I happen to know this from what he did to me in early 1983.

Some context: David Friedman's dad died suddenly on January 7, 1983, at age 49. David was not yet 20. I recall him observing a traditional Jewish mourning period of several weeks. At the time, I barely knew him. My focus was on Lilly and my music. I was 22 and naive, as I would discover over four decades later.

In 1983, David Friedman knew more about my life than I did. The secret parts, anyway. His dad, Albert Norman Friedman, had worked at Lockheed's Skunk Works and was therefore a high-clearance individual with DoD connections. When his dad died, and after his period of mourning ended, David felt freed up.

No one was left to restrict him. No one to tell him what to do.

David was a sociopath, and what he did, now that his dad was dead, was to take from the family closet some classified electronic gear his dad had stashed, from Lockheed or Korea or wherever. He took these gadgets and brought them to my house, where he used them to take advantage of me. I'm talking about the "scanners" that would later be used on me by various bad guys (whom we all know) during the horrific summer of 1989.

David Friedman introduced these devices into the group of our "friends" in January '83, when he was 19 and I was 22.

I will now tell you about a memory I have, blocked for over forty years but recovered in 2025, of being in a courtroom with David Friedman and at least one of his sisters. His mother may have been there, also. Someone had filed a case against him for what he did to me.

I can picture him in front of me in a line outside the Van Nuys Courthouse. Have you been there? It's a distinctive setting. We were waiting to enter the building, and I can see Freidman attempting to speak to me in line, to try to influence the case against him. His attempt didn't work. Someone shut him down on my behalf. Lys? I don't know. Lys (or Ann) always seemed to be there in these situations.

In another memory, even clearer, we were with Friedman's sisters in a judge's chamber in a downtown LA courtroom. This was a different occasion. Folks, I attended TWO court dates with these people over what David Friedman did to me. His sisters testified for him. I think Lys was there on my behalf. I don't recall anyone else but perhaps my Mom?

Folks, the judge (or court commissioner) was only there to ARBITRATE. I don't know what her decision was, but I definitely recall her saying to the assembled, "You're aware I have to seal this record."

True story.

Thus, somewhere in the records of the crooked, occult Los Angeles County Court system is the paperwork of this David Friedman case. 

On another occasion, likely also in 1983, I found myself INSIDE the Friedman house. The context of how this happened is not yet clear, but his remaining family was Cult. I could tell you things about that night that would make your head spin. Basically, it was a sting operation into which I was "inserted" as a wedge. Bad guys whom we all know were present. A helicopter was overhead. It was a big time LAPD operation on the people in that house at that time. True Story, yet completely covered up because Northridge is porno and cult central, involving CSUN and extending all the way up to California State politics. Cocaine runs California, and especially Hollywood, and coke is controlled by cartels, who have an uneasy alliance with rich California long-term connected pols like Gavin Newsom and the Pelosis. The Left Wing pols in this state are pure evil and criminal. Child abuse on a demonic scale is connected to Hollywood and this can be shown by the extra horrific 1976 event at the Devonshire House next to Northridge Park. I was present at this event as a 16 year old witness. 

Hollywood (no matter how much money it generates) must be ENTIRELY SHUT DOWN. We cannot continue to live in a 24/7 disposable "news cycle" where only the turnaround matters, where one murder is followed by the next, and everyone is famous for three minutes.

But yeah...if you guys wanna do something HARD CORE (and make yourself a legend), do a relentless Los Angeles County FOIA on those sealed court records from the 1983 David Friedman case (involving me). Those records exist (unless they've been destroyed), and you can find them.

In closing, David Friedman was a bad guy, a sociopath. He did bring me my beautiful dog Alice (who begat the beautiful Trixie), and he did attempt to tell the truth in October 2010, when he and Pat Forduccenburger made their many revelations on the Pat/Friedman Tour. But he was still all fucked up, though not as much as some of his associates. 

Thanks for reading, tons of love.

February 15, 2025 (The Miracle and Kennedy High)

Hi folks, and Happy Belated Valentine's Day. I hope it was a good day for you. I walked down to Maple last night, hoping for a repeat of the 2023 Valentine's Day Miracle. It didn't happen, but I stood on the grassy hill, trying to recall what we said. I remember a lady with a phone or a tablet that showed a list of topics we were not supposed to discuss. I don't want to say any more about that night (because I feel I shouldn't), but there were other people present, and if I'm not mistaken, part of the Miracle was filmed.

Most of you know that things sometimes happen to me that I don't remember, and thus am not aware of until years (or even decades) later. That's because my memory gets blocked, and that's what happened in this case. I didn't remember the Valentine's Day Miracle until three months ago, in November 2025. I'm not sure exactly what triggered the memory, but I confirmed it by meditating to fill in the details. Since it was a genuine Miracle, I wanted (and needed) to make sure it really happened; that it wasn't my wishful thinking.

And yes, it really did. And it leaves me optimistic. That's all I am comfortable saying.

Let's see, what else can I tell you? Have we done the Kennedy concert? Have I mentioned driving to Kennedy High School last Fall? I thought I hadn't been back there since the day of my band's lunchtime gig, in January or February 1982, but returning last November triggered yet another blocked memory of being taken to the school by Pat Forducci and David Friedman (both now deceased), between 2010 and 2014. I'm working to pin down an exact date. On a side note, have I told you about The Pat/Friedman Tour? It occurred in October 2010, during a party. Pat and Friedman brought me outside, drove me around, and showed me some lifechanging things. Both wanted out of a situation they were in. I don't know what they gained by telling me what they told me, and showing me the locations we drove to, but on another day, their "tour" continued, and on that occasion, they took me to Kennedy High School. Pat and Friedman knew secrets about my life that I hadn't been aware of, and at Kennedy, they showed me the front gate, asked me what I remembered about playing there, and insinuated that something unusual had happened. I asked what it was.

"You'll remember it," they said. When I asked why they couldn't just tell me what it was, they said something like, "We're not supposed to be showing you any of this stuff." They said they'd gotten in trouble last time they did it (at the October 2010 party).

"You'll remember it eventually," they repeated about Kennedy.

Curious about that show (and even moreso after a meditation brought back recollections), I drove up there last November, and the first thing that struck me was "what a weird place to put a humongous high school". Have you ever seen Kennedy High? It's gigantic. I thought Cleveland was big, but this school, by my estimate, is half again as large. On top of that, it has an enormous quad, and a two-story main building. The design still looks futuristic even though the school was built in 1960. But the weirdest thing of all is the way it seems to have been "cut"  or "spliced into" an old residential neighborhood - the narrow, curving  streets of which are dwarfed by the behemoth school. One street is particularly unusual: a stark, chopped-off cul-de-sac that runs into the monolithic wall of the 118 freeway.

Drive there yourself and check it out.

As I walked around the school, I tried to recall the concert 44 years earlier. Before this, for decades, when I thought of the Kennedy gig, all I remembered was the purple & black striped leotard I wore, and that we opened with Judas Priest's "Solar Angels." I also remembered a woman, who was there with her teenage daughter, asking if I was Italian (because of my dark wavy hair). 

But in November 2025, when I walked around back, to the north end of the school property, where the parking lot is, I remembered a different set of circumstances.

Something weird happened at our Kennedy concert. 

This sense became acute by the parking lot on the school's north side. I had the feeling of being detained there, and that others were detained as well. And, I had the strange feeling that an altercation took place in the concrete breezeway behind the platform we performed on, located on the quad. 

I mentioned my friend Ed in the previous blog. Go back and read it if you need to. Ed may have been at the Kennedy concert, watching from the sidelines with his pals. This memory came to the surface during my November 2025 visit, while I stood and looked at the parking lot. I felt there was an argument or fight between Ed and some other people, perhaps even one of my bandmates. I could swear that Ed knew about Zilch, and was pissed that anyone would steal from musicians, which started the fight I have mentioned. Ed's brother joined in, and a singer they worked with. Another acquaintance fought against them.

At the school, I got the strong feeling that I was brought into a classroom to get me away from this battle. I think my street clothes were in there. A military person was in the room, too. He explained what was going on.

Later, in the parking lot, some of the detainees, including the singer I mentioned, were loaded into buses. 

I remember being in a vehicle that took me somewhere after the concert, due to the fracas that erupted. Apparently, certain people were watching that show from the shadows (in the breezeway) because of what I went through after the Zilch Robbery, which is looking like a huge can of worms. 

This is why it's so important to create an accurate 1982 timeline. We need to know the exact date of the Kennedy Concert. We also need to know exactly what occurred on the day of the Zilch Robbery, after Lilly pointed out the loose window glass.

I think something huge happened at the Golden Glenn studio on the night of Zilch, and I have reasons for stating this. That incident set off a chain of events that included what happened at Kennedy, and changed the course of that year for me and my perpetual Valentine.

Thanks for reading. Tons of love.

February 1, 2026 (One from the Heart and Mustangs)

Hi folks. We're going back to 1982 again. I wrote about Francis Ford Coppola's "One from the Heart" a few months ago, and I want to revisit the screening I attended with Lillian on Valentine's Day '82, because I have new information. Over the years, I've occasionally thought about that movie, not just for it's incredible art direction and the fact that it broke Zoetrope Studios, but because (despite the critics), I thought it was a very good romantic film, with a beautiful, hopeful ending, and also because in memory, I associated a melancholy feeling with seeing it that day, with Lilly, at what I long thought was a theater in North Hollywood or maybe at Laemmle Universal. For the record, my strongest memory-image from the film was of Frederick Forrest singing "You Are My Sunshine" to Terri Garr.

Last year, I found the dvd of "One from the Heart" at the library, re-watched it for the first time in over forty years and wrote a blog about it, as noted. And because I now had this latent sense of an incomplete memory about our movie date on February 14, 1982, and because the screening occurred just two weeks after the Zilch Robbery (involving my band members), and also our gig at Kennedy High School, I knew I needed to meditate on the whole scenario. I did so, and lo and behold, I learned (with some additional Googling) that Lilly and I in fact saw "One from the Heart" not in North Hollywood but at Grauman's Chinese Theater, and that - indeed - it was a premier screening, for which tickets had to be specially ordered. My meditation revealed that at least one of the film's stars was there: Terri Garr. And maybe Frederick Forrest, too, but certainly other cast and crew members, including perhaps an assistant director, and there were speeches made about the making of the film, and dedications. One speaker mentioned the significance of its release on Valentine's Day, which he related to the power of love.

And then I remembered this: there were two interlopers who tried to crash the party. Terry and Dennis. I hate to even mention them, but they are unfortunately part of this story. They may or may not have had tickets to the movie, but they caused a scene, directed at Lilly and me, and I believe they were thrown out of the theater after disrupting the proceedings. Whoever was speaking on the stage at that time remarked on the interruption, and when the movie was over, Lilly and I were offered an escort to my car (or our separate cars). I'm not sure if we drove there together or met at the theater, but I believe Lys was present and acted as an intermediary.

Anyhow, I remembered that Terry Meissner, who had an outsized sense of his importance in the world, said that Terri Garr had "smiled at him" in the theater. He talked about that for days afterward, and it not only proves that he and Dennis were at the screening, but it also showed Terry's delusional narcissism. He later had similar fantasies about Mary Steenburgen, whom Dennis met in Florida during the filming of "Cross Creek". Dennis later interacted with Malcolm McDowell, Mary's husband. Terry (who was close to Dennis at the time) was obsessed with Mary Steenburgen for a while, and talked about her as if he knew her, using a crude reference for her last name.

The important takeaway for "One from the Heart" is that it was a special screening at Grauman's Chinese, and that film crew and actors spoke beforehand (emphasizing the Valentine's Day motif), and also that, when the speeches were interrupted by a commotion in the audience (the dispute between the ushers and Dennis and Terry), the person onstage NOTED THIS INTERRUPTION. Whomever was speaking pointed out the two individuals who tried to crash the party, and it was a serious enough incident that Lillian and I were offered an escort out of the theater and to our car or cars when the movie was over. True Story!

I've been doing pinpoint memory recovery for early 1982, and have also recollected an incident at my house (9032) involving the same two individuals, and an Easter Basket that Lilly brought me on April 11 of that year. It was Easter Sunday. Long story short, these guys stole my Easter Basket, which may seem like just a stupid prank, but it was more than that, because Dennis, in particular, was on a rampage after being outed by Dave Small for the Zilch Robbery on February 1 (44 years ago to this very day). Terry was in cahoots with him at the time. 1982 (my first full calendar year as Lilly's boyfriend) was marred with many violent incidents involving Dennis, which were subsequently blocked from my memory. One was the terrifying overnight "kidnap" in his white pickup truck that I mentioned in a recent blog.  

I want to also tell you about Malia's birthday party, which occurred at her house in March '82 (and at which something extremely scary happened), but that may have to wait for another blog because I need to talk about Pearl's Broken Hip, an event that took place on January 1, 2010, close to 28 years after the Zilch Robbery, and the Kennedy High concert, and the screening of "One from the Heart". Pearl's hip was broken nearly three decades later, and yet at least one of the same players was involved.

Can you guess which one? I thought you could.

A complete run-down of that event will have to wait, but for now I want to talk about the aftermath - what occurred after Pearl was injured and was taken away in an ambulance, when the situation was being covered up.

As you guys know, it was covered up. The participants had to adhere to a Storyline. I'm sure the EMT who attended to Pearl was told to keep quiet. In my memory, "official people" appeared at the house, among others, but what stands out is the car I was put into.

I was placed inside a car that was going to leave the scene of this incident. The location of this car was in a driveway on Pearl's street. I'll refrain from giving the exact location.

The aftermath was hectic, to say the least. Several people wanted to ride in this car, so many that straws were drawn (so to speak). One of the people chosen was put in the back seat with me. His name was Ed. The kicker is that Ed may have been at the Kennedy High School concert, 28 years earlier, in January/February 1982. It turned out, unknown to me before then, that Ed was a friend of mine. 

But while the riders were being selected, a young woman wanted in. Her appearance is clear in my conscious memory. She had a "sponsor", a lady who was vouching for her, who claimed the gal knew me from a "past association". I call her Katie. She was not chosen by the others to be one of the passengers in our car, but they agreed to give her five minutes to talk to me in the back seat. She said she had once met or known me, and she showed me some scars on her back or her neck. I've since remembered her from a 1982 incident at a house party on Aldea Street in Northridge. I call her "All American Katie" because I believe this terrible incident at her house happened on the Fourth of July and because, in my memory, she was sitting at a piano in her living room, wearing an American flag halter. Strangely (and astoundingly), I also associate her with a little girl I knew from my childhood in Reseda, named Katie McCormick.

Mustangs are also associated with Katie, and with other memories, and by Mustangs, I mean both the car and the mascot for Andasol Avenue Elementary School in Northridge. 

In the January 2010 "getaway" car (which was not a Mustang), I remember her showing me the scars on her back, then asking if she could give me a hug. I said okay, then she got out of the car because her alloted time was up, and the rest of us, including Ed, drove away.

If I had to guess all the people in that car, I'd say Ann, me and Ed, and maybe Lillian, Lys and Helen.

We drove around and stopped at a Denny's or other all-night restaurant.

The rest of the night is vague, and though the story doesn't end there, that's all I have time for today.

Thanks for reading, tons of love. 

January 22, 2026 (Don Simpson)

Hey guys, just a short one this time. Do you remember Don Simpson? He was one half of the megaproduction duo of Simpson and Bruckheimer, who had humongous hits like "Top Gun" in the 1980s.

Jerry Bruckheimer is still with us. He made a comeback with "Top Gun: Maverick" in 2023, a film that - my goodness gracious - opens at China Lake. Don Simpson died almost exactly 30 years ago, on January 19, 1996. He was a heavy substance abuser.

What would you guys say if I told you I met Don Simpson? Would you scoff? I have, of course, told you of meeting Presidents and all kinds of famous celebs, so maybe you wouldn't doubt Don Simpson. But what if I told you I met him at a party, and that he approached me? And that he was angry enough to accost me.

What would you say about that? And what if this party was a porno party? Where? In Northridge, of course. Everyone knows that Northridge is the porno capital of Los Angeles (if not the world).

Yes, folks, I met Don Simpson at a porno party on Hiawatha Street, at a house between Encino and Jellico. You can Google Map it, or I can show the house to you in person. I didn't go to this house by myself, nor voluntarily. John "Shecky" Mallis took me there, in concordance with Dennis and the late David Friedman. Victoria Principal was there. I only mention her name because she was not a nice lady. 

Other famous people were also present at this house. The bad guys I've named must've brought me along for some objective I am unaware of. Maybe because they were ordered to. Who the F knows with these cult people?

Don Simpson may have been aware of this objective. He may have known he was being blackmailed and exposed. And at first, he blamed me, as these people always do. They assume I am "in on" this cult stuff, but I am not and never have been. I didn't live their coke and sex lifestyle and knew nothing about it until I was put into the middle of these situations. And when Don Simpson realised this, that I wasn't behind his exposure, he apologized to me the next day, at another house in the Hiawatha Street gauntlet I was supposed to run before I would be set free. I could show you that house, too, another huge "not-very-Northridgey" fake McMansion. Fake rich people inside. Swarthy occupants. An angled driveway that Simpson drove up and parked his Porsche Targa on, to berate me then thank me one last time.

I was later told that I was "the guy who destroyed Don Simpson's career", and if true, if I was actually The Guy, and not just an unintentional final nail in his rotten Hollywood coffin, it means that this encounter on the Hiawatha/Jellico driveway must have happened no later than the mid-1990s, when he was still vital and before he died. 

My guess is the early 1990s or late 80s. Maybe after he made "Days of Thunder" in 1990.

But folks, I must tell you, Jerry Bruckheimer is a whole 'nuther story. Have you guys ever heard of Devonshire House and the movie "Odd Man Out"? You should do some research on that one, especially Devonshire House circa 1976.

Talk to you soon.

January 14, 2026 (crime report)

 Hi folks. This is gonna be another blunt crime report, so be prepared. I wish there were cheerier things to write about, but "the hits just keep on comin'" (as they say), and I am so shocked and disgusted with what I'm learning about what I'll carefully call The Pearl Situation, that it's a wonder I haven't become physically ill. If a color could depict my feelings about this, it would be the reddest Blood Red you could imagine.

I will soon be 66. Not ancient, but I have now lived half those years under the secretive yoke of scumbag drug and pornography people - CULT PEOPLE - who have taken advantage of my naivety about their world and the history my life.

My health is not good. I'm living with a hernia the size of a grapefruit.

I am basically alone in the world, and my only concern is getting the truth into the open. To do this, I write. 

I'm thinking a lot about John Mallis lately. We knew him as "Shecky", but that name's too cutesy for a guy I mistakenly thought was a friend, and who I've recently learned was a hard-core drug criminal who used me for ten years and then walked away. So let's call him John instead of Shecky. The first time I met him, he was sitting in a director's chair on the small lawn adjacent to Dennis's studio in back of The Reading Center on Devonshire and Woodley. This was in late June 1983. The director's chair was probably supplied by Dennis, who had worked on movie sets. John Mallis was sitting there shirtless, tanning his already bronze skin. He had on a pair of aviator shades, and had his practice pad in his lap, and his drumsticks. John is a drummer, and a good one.

Lillian may have dropped me off at the studio that day. It was either her or Dave Small. Dave and me were in need of a drummer at the time. Dennis was on the outs after the Zilch robbery in February 1982 (though ironically we were still using his studio) and when this John guy mentioned that he played drums, and had a kit inside the studio, that was good news for us. We may have jammed that very first day.

Now I will reveal something I've regretted for over four decades. Lilly and I had planned to go to Knotts Berry Farm on July 1, 1983, for the grand opening of Camp Snoopy. She loved Snoopy; I was a Peanuts fan since childhood. Our date was set: Knotts and Camp Snoopy on July 1, opening day.

But then I met this drummer named John at Dennis's studio. Thinking back, it was like he was posed there, on that tiny scrap of lawn, in that director's chair, and I am willing to bet that he knew Dennis before he put his drums in that studio. Their whole setup was a scam that, at age 23, I failed to recognize. And when he offered to jam, I eagerly accepted. And this is what I've regretted all these years:

I told Lilly I couldn't go to Camp Snoopy, as we had planned, because I had "just met this drummer." She was understandibly disappointed, and I felt bad but stuck to my decision to jam, and ever since then, I've wanted to go back in a time machine and kick my own ass because Lilly had her heart set on going to Knotts and Camp Snoopy on opening day, and I had agreed to that, and I cancelled our plan on a whim. I still feel horrible about it.

We did end up going, a couple days later, maybe even on July 4, one of our two anniversaries. And we had fun. I have a strip of photo booth pictures that depict this. We also got our potrait drawn by a caricaturist, with me as a surfer, Lilly as a beach bunny. I have that, too.

But I made her cry by cancelling opening day, and I am going to go back in a time machine and and punch myself in the nose for doing that, especially because I did it in favor of John Mallis, a criminal drug dealer who wasted ten years of my life, and who worked behind my back with other lowlifes to set me up and destroy my relationship with Lilly.

I now believe that John Mallis knew Dennis before he "moved in" to The Reading Center (which was also a drug drop). In the early 1990s, John Mallis used a "scanning" device on me to get me into his car for ride-alongs on his drug deliveries. He had been a pot grower for many years (in his backyard) and was now trying to move into cocaine. He needed me along for some kind of cult credibility. My presense would make him a "made man". He had a bad temper, and his mask came off on these drug runs when I told him under hypnosis (or scanning) to let me out of the car. That's when I found out he wasn't my friend and never had been. Like Dennis, he was only ever a criminal drug dealer.

And he has somehow turned up, again through Dennis, in connection to Pearl and Helen.

In July 1989, Helen took me to her mom Pearl's house, to get me away from the insane, violent situation at my house: the legendary 9032 Rathburn Avenue. But the bad guys found out I was there, at Pearl's house, and they came and a confrontation ensued. The main bad guy was a close relative of mine. Another was one of his associates, whose name I won't mention because he is a very dangerous and well-connected Northridge individual. And another of the people who showed up at Pearl's house, to threaten Helen and me on that day in July 1989, was John Mallis.

Yep, all the way back in 1989. Can you believe the bad guys were involved with Pearl and Helen back then? Or that they even knew where Pearl lived? It makes me sick.

This was at a time when I was not in any band. John Mallis had kicked me out of the band I founded, and out of his Winnetka garage, where we rehearsed, in the late Summer of 1987, ostensibly for wearing nail polish and listening to black metal. On a very important side note, Dave Small and his then-girlfriend Kelly Wilson (who later married Terry Meissner) lived at John's house in 1987 and part of '88, and they moved into the legendary Burton Street house in Reseda in September/October 1988. This will become crucial in our investigation.

Returning to John Mallis: he was a chronic pot smoker, but much more than that -

When he moved to Archwood Street in Winnetka in 1987, he immediately started growing high grade marijuana in his backyard. Rows of it, like a cornfield. He grew impressive plants, high grade pot, and he did this within a mile of the West Valley LAPD station. 

His plants were pungent. You could smell them from the street. I was still rehearsing with him and Dave at the time, and was concerned about this pot smell, but John assured me there was nothing to worry about because, as he put it, he was now an acknowledged "gardener". Though he never said so, the inference was that he paid a hefty sum (ten thousand dollars, a lot in 1987 money) to become such.

One question: to whom might he have paid that money to?

Let us switch gears now, to talk about the Meissner House on White Oak Avenue just south of Nordhoff. The Meissner house was inhabited by that evil family, the Meissners, and after Elmer Meissner died in 2002, his wife Jean moved to Arizona. She died in November 2005. The house has not been inhabited since she moved.

Folks, we are talking a seven figure, million dollar property in the heart of "Sherwood Forest" Northridge. Who in their right minds, possessing such a property, would not sell it or rent it...I mean, who the F are you kidding?

The Meissner House has been blacked out for almost one quarter of a century.

The reason it has remained empty is that the Meissners - Jean, Elmer and their POS son Terry - were supremely evil people who would make Charles Manson blush. Jeffery Epstein was an amateur in comparison.

But the thing about the Meissners, is that their behavior was accepted or looked the other way at, right in the middle of their suburban street, which is not separated by long driveways and giant hedges and acreage like the estates of the Los Angeles Elite, who can hide in their surroundings. 

Astoundingly, the Meissners did their swinging thing just yards from their neighbors' house, and just feet from the street. 

The Meissners held swinger parties in their backyard in which people fucked each other in their pool, in front of an audience of Elmer and Jean, Terry's parents. I was there, at one party in 1988, so I know.

I was also victimised in 1982 and 1983 at the Meissner House (so was Lilly)...and I know the truly evil things about this horrific family. You can ask Sandra Mussey. She knows.