June 28, 2026 (It's A Gas!)

Hi folks. Let's talk natural gas. You've heard of the Aliso Canyon storage facility, notorious for the methane leak in 2015/16 - the worst in United States history. That facility is located in Porter Ranch on top of a mountain just west of Mission Point. At ground level, it would be just a few miles from Northridge. If you are a curious person, like me, you remember that leak, and you ask, "Where did all that methane come from?" Then you Google and find out it is stored, with other natural gas products, in huge underground caverns (up to two miles below ground!) which were once filled with crude oil that was extracted by refineries in the early 20th century. When the oil was all pumped out, in came The Southern California Gas Co. They started filling the enormous (now empty) caverns with natural gas (piped in from other locations) in the 1940s.

It was at this point that So Cal homes were built and converted for natural gas (stoves and heating). Citizens took it for granted. Then in 1994, there were huge explosions during the Northridge quake, that reminded everyone of the gigantic gas caverns underground.

Let us now bring in our late friends Pat and Friedman for further exploration.

In October 2010, they took me on the infamous Pat/Friedman Tour, which included many stops at notorious criminal locations in northeastern Northridge and Granada Hills. One of the things P and F wanted to (and did) show me were three Gas Company "stations", hidden behind landscaped rises in the residential neighborhood bordered by Lassen Street to the north and Marilla to the south, and laterally along Shoshone Avenue. You can Google Street View them or visit in person. The stations are not visible from the street. They are hidden by tall hedges, and situated next to houses. You'd never know they were there, if not for the signs, which warn of "high pressure gas lines", i.e the kind that blew a hole in Balboa Boogalord on January 17, 1994 and sent flames billowing skyward.

An interesting fact about the southernmost of these three Gas Co "sector stations" is that it's just up Shoshone Street (no more than 100 yards north), of the former, long-time home of a family well-known to all of us, the scion of which is the best friend of one of my relatives.

Since we are being curious, we might ask, "What's behind the walls of these stations?" Likely Gas Company equipment, right? Perhaps meters, pressure regulators, heck...I don't know. But just stuff like that. We might also ask "does anyone monitor these stations? Are there Gas Co. employees on site?"

Folks, I walk by there a lot. I've never seen so much as a truck or an unlocked gate.

Maybe these stations are mostly automated, then. Okay fine.

But what about the storage caverns underground? Does the Gas Co have access to those?

You'd think so. Obviously, to reach the mountaintop (where the Aliso facility is located), and then to be piped into homes across Los Angeles, the gas has to pumped from two miles below the ground. How does it travel? Through pipes, of course. So, what if there's a leak or some other problem in the underground pipe system? They'd need to have a human being, a Gas Co employee (or employees), go down there and fix it. Right?

How would those employees get down to the storage caverns? For comparison, we can ask how geologists or miners get deep underground. "By elevator" would seem to be the answer.

What would you folks say if I told you that there's such an elevator behind the high hedges and walls of one of these residentially-blended Gas Co stations? You might say, "Wow, how do you know that, Ad?"

And I'd reply, "Because I've ridden on it. All the way down to the bottom, where the storage tanks are."

Pat Forducci, who died three years ago today, seemed to have "special connections". I don't know if they involved DoD or an Alphabet Soup agency, but there were times when he had access to inaccessable places. One day, in 1988, with the help of other people (including Lys, who also had high-level connections), Pat took me behind the wall of the station on Marilla Street. I believe there was an escalator there, inside an enclosure, that went one or two levels underground and connected to the deep-range elevator. Now, I don't know if it was a single elevator, or if we had to switch (like you do in some skyscrapers). But we got all the way down to the bottom, which looked like "Journey to the Center of the Earth," with jagged rock walls. The difference was that there were catwalks and railings, and a pit emitting flames. I remember Pat telling me to walk to the railing to check it out. Was it some sort of pilot light?

I have no idea.

There were also high, steel control panels down there, with lights. Everything was built into solid rock.

Why were we down there? I don't know the entire reason. Part of it may have been just to show me the cavern. On a side note, before we rode back up, Pat asked me: "Guess how far down we are?" I was thinking in "stories", like a building. I may have said, "I dunno...ten stories?" Pat said, "No, much deeper than that." I said, "20 stories?" He said, "Think in feet, not stories." I said, "Man...I don't know. 500 feet?"

He said, "You aren't close. Try ten thousand feet. Two miles."

When this memory first came back (last Summer), I had a hard time believing that figure. Until I did some Googling on the Aliso facility. And Pat was right. We were two miles below ground.

Someone else was down there. A bad guy we all know. We encountered him on one of the catwalks. He was holding a lady hostage. That's actually why we went down there, I think; to free this lady from the bad guy in question.

I recall getting in the elevator to go back up to the surface, with Pat and Lys (and maybe others, perhaps even Friedman).

When we got back to the top, to the Gas Co station on Marilla Street at Shoshone Avenue, we took the escalator back up to the hidden enclosure, where a law enforcement officer (Sheriff's Dept? State police?) was waiting for the bad guy. 

This happened in the summer of 1988. On the Pat/Friedman Tour in October 2010, as we drove past these sites, Pat insinuated there had been, over the years, some sort of (literal?) power struggle between LADWP and Southern California Gas Co, and that's why some streets have brighter streetlights than others, in that neighborhood. Actually, there was much more to his explanation, and it involved the high pressure gas lines, but that's all I will say for tonight.

Thanks for reading.

June 14, 2026 (King's X)

Sigh. Yeah, folks, I not only missed all four Rush concerts, but I missed King's X, too, at The Whisky last night. Unlike the unaffordable (for me) Rush shows, KX was eminently doable except for one issue: the Metro Red Line Subway. King's X has played The Whisky on all of their recent tours (last fifteen years?), and for those shows, there has usually been one (maybe two) opening acts, with the boys going on at apprx 9pm (9:30 at the latest) and finishing their aweome set by 10:30 to 11pm. All of which gave me time, in years past, to catch the Sunset Boogalord bus back to Highland, hightail it on foot up to Hollywood Boog, and catch a late Red Line train to NoHo, where my car was parked (sorry, but I won't pay 10 to 20 bucks to park in a sketchy lot on Sunset Strip).

Have you ever ridden the Red Line (or any line in the LA Metro system)? Beyond the safety issues (it's mostly okay), the main problem is reliability. Sometimes, a station (or the entire line) is shut down, without warning, as I found out weeks ago after parking at the Red Line NoHo station to ride to Universal City for a birthday lunch with my sister at Bubba Gump.

Sorry, station closed.

I had to take a long-delayed shuttle bus instead.

The point is, a late night ride on the Metro subway system is a roll of the dice. If you get there on time, you'll (probably) catch one of the last trains. But there's also a chance that the late trains (on any given night) will be cancelled. And for this King's X show, there were three opening bands (instead of one...or two). KX would not go on until 10pm, and be done by 11:30. I checked the Metro schedule, and the last (guaranteed) Red Line train left Hollywood & Highland at 12:26am on Saturday night. After that, roll the dice. That gave me less than an hour to leave the show, catch the Sunset bus (what if it's late?), fast-walk the half mile from Sunset up to Hollywood Boog, and pray that I not only made it on time for the last train of the night, but that it hadn't been cancelled.

You know what? No can do. Wouldn't be prudent.

So I am now at the point where, if going to a concert involves anything more than the slightest amount of stress, I won't go. Sorry, but I've seen a lot of shows, for over 50 years, and I'm not gonna pay huge prices or worry about getting home. I already go to almost every show by myself (which sucks), and have done since 1997.

So yeah...it's a bummer, but my concert-going days are mostly over, unless there is no hassle involved.

I like Disneyland better. Yeah, it costs a lot. But you can stay all day (for 16 hours if you want), and you know its safe, with no sketchy transits back home.

God bless rock concerts, but I was born to go to Disneyland.

My life's biggest influences (besides Reseda and my parents): The Beatles, Disneyland, Gilligan's Island.

June 12, 2026 (Rush)

Hi folks. We have now passed through Night Three of the Rush concerts at The Forum. I won't ask you what you think, because we all know they are incredible in this strange new incarnation, and we've seen (even on YouTube if we weren't there) how phenomenal Anika Nilles has been in these shows. Alex and Geddy made the right choice, eh?

Unfortunately for me, this is the first Rush tour since 1997 ("Test for Echo") when I did not attend a show. The current Forum shows sold out on Ticketmaster before I even got in the online "queue" as it's now called, and the resale prices have been more than I can afford (or am willing to pay). Thus, I have not seen (and will not see) any Rush shows this tour, but I take solace in the fact that I first saw them at Long Beach in November 1978 (on the Hemispheres tour), and on 31 more stops along the way. I've seen Rush 32 times (more than I've seen any other band), and I was at their final concert with Neil on August 1, 2015.

So that will have to suffice, for now. I wish I had seen one of these current shows with Anika, who has instantly become the most famous drummer on Earth, but I cannot battle the economics of 2026.

Anyhow, if you went to any of the Forum shows, I'll bet you blew your mind.

As for me, I am blowing my mind in an altogether different way. I am primarily a Crime Investigator these days. I strive for and spend time every day to recover blocked memories from my past. My mission in life is to expose and defeat bad guys, by which I mean violent criminal predators who have gotten away with everything they've ever done. I am in a war against evil, from which bad people emerge.

It sucks to talk about this, and it sucks because no one cares or will listen.

As always in the modern age, the 24/7 Turnaround rules the day and year, daily distraction is the only constant, and the years pass by like months.

Anyhow, the saving grace for me is that I am learning many things each day about my life. I am recovering memories that were blocked by bad people, and I pray I will learn more, and I am grateful for the Lord's help in this battle. I also pray that the battle will soon be over, because I am profoundly tired. I don't trust good guys or bad guys. No one has the guts to step up and tell the truth. 

God Bless Rush.  

May 23, 2026 (Evil Must Be Exterminated)

Folks, things are very bad. In fact, they can't get much worse. Recent revelations have shown not only that bad guys knew where Pearl lived (as previously reported), but that they were in her house.

Folks, listen up, and listen good: Bad guys broke into Pearl's house when I was there. There were two of them. We all know who they are. This happened, by my researched estimate, in late November or December 2014, right after I began staying overnight as Pearl's caregiver. She was 90 years old at the time.

Folks...listen. Are you listening? I was her caregiver. She was 90 years old.

And these two pieces of garbage entered her house in some kind of "truth or dare" creepycrawl best understood by their fellow cult members - the bad guy "swingers" and coke dealers with whom they associate.

Their adventure was a joke to them. I can describe what they did in detail. I can describe most of the incident.

For some reason, they seem immune to arrest and prosecution. I've known them since the 1970s. I went to jr. high with one, met the other one at College Records. I've "hung out" with them, considered them my friends, gone to concerts with them. I repeat: we all know who they are.

YOU KNOW WHO THEY ARE.

But in my case, I didn't know what they are until recently.

They are sexual predators, and may even be registered as such.

And in November 2014, they broke into Pearl's house, on one of my first nights as her overnight caregiver, and one of them intimidated her in a sexually abusive and horrific way in her bedroom.

I was there. I witnessed all of this and I am fucking horrified beyond belief.

These guys need their skulls crushed. But even that is too good for them, when you know the extent of what they have done, going back to at least the 1980s.

Goodnight. 

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.