WARNING: Researching, & Writing At The Santa Monica Public Library May Be Hazardous To Your Constitutionally Protected Rights

 

The Santa Monica Library Incidents Of May & June 2010

The Constitutionally Subversive, Political Machinations Behind It --- And How It All Relates To My Personal History As Well As The Mind Blowing Circumstances & Historically Revelatory Events Detailed Throughout My Online, Narrative, Nonfiction Chronicle:

"1979"

 

Update Note --- In order to better illustrate the just causes and validity of my case against the politically subversive smear tactics employed against me by certain Nazi like Quizlings on the staff of the Santa Monica and it's ties to the July 1979 attempt on my life at a construction site in Santa Monica I have decided to incorporate some revised excerpts from the Synopsis to "1979". Please also note that I still have to do a lot of work not only on this addendum, but to the entire Synopsis to "1979" as well.

Whereas I am presently now fighting not only for my own Constitutional & Civil Rights in most patriotic cause, I would also ask that those of you that can afford it, to please click on the Pay Pal donation links and help me fight the good fight you, your children and those generations to come.

James T. Westbrook October 3, 2010

 

 

Santa Monica's Sordid Historical Past With Respect To Police State Tactics, Dope Doctors, & Mind Control Drugs As Described By 1940's Detective Story Novelist Raymond Chandler In His Crime Fiction MasterPieces "Farewell My Lovely" & "The Lady In The Lake" --- Santa Monica's It's Present Relationship To The Medical-Pharmacopia Industrial Complex & 'Behavior Modification' In 2010

 

 

Add some info on Chandler's life spent living in the shitty areas of S.M. and his general distaste for the place.

 

 

Above is photo montage of the drug induced, hallucinatory dream sequence from the 1945 movie "Murder My Sweet" which is the film adaption of Chandler's "Farewell My Lovely". --- Ironically enough after the film as screened in Canada under another title, it was pulled, and premiered in New York City on March 8, 1945 precisely eight years prior to the date of my birth March 8, 1953.

Below are some excerpts from a 1976 edition of Raymond Chandler's classic 1940 detective novel:
"Farewell My Lovely"

@ Page 165"...No gag. I ran into a little trouble -- down in Bay City. They took me in. Not the cooler, a private dope and liquor cure." "...I've been thrown unconcious into this dope hospital and kept there locked up. And I couldn't prove any of it, except that I have a nice collection of bruises and my left arm has been needled plenty." @ Page 142"Dope, I had been shot full of dope to keep me quiet. Perhaps some Scopolamine too, to make me talk.

I was having the French fits coming out of it...""...I didn't go down there. These cops took me over the line. I went to see a guy in Stillwood Heights. That's in L.A." "It looked funny, him -- Marriot -- having that extra case. With reefers (*) in it. They make them up like Russian cigarettes down in Bay City with hollow mouthpieces 'and the Romanoff arms and everything.' "(* Marijuana cigarettes)

Unlike the film version of "Farewell My Lovely", the storyline of which is somewhat faithfully delivered in the 1945 movie "Murder My Sweet" --- the script in the 1948 film version of "The Lady In The Lake" deviates radically therefrom Chandler's book version so much, that it turns the classic detective novel into a kind of trivialized movie mystery, replete with half-assed, sappy romance scenes in which Chander's 'hard boiled' detective Philip Marlowe is portrayed as a kind of love sick, and 'pussy whipped' gumshoe with 'the hots' for the the female Fromsett character from the book, and which sadly dilutes original storyline to such a degree, that I could hardly believe that it had anything to with author Chandler's original work.

 

Below are some selected excerpts from what appears to be an unabridged
online edition of Raymond Chandler's chilling detective masterpiece
"The Lady In The Lake"

1

"The address we have is 623 Altair Street, in Bay City. Telephone Bay City 12523. Mr. Lavery has not been with us for more than a year. He may have moved." I thanked her and ,went 'on to the door. From 'there' I glanced back at her. She was sitting very still, with her hands clasped on her desk, staring into space. A couple of red spots burned in her cheeks. Her eyes were remote and bitter." Altair Street lay on the edge of the V forming the inner end of a deep canyon. To the north was the cool blue sweep of the bay out to the point above Malibu. To the south the beach town of Bay City was spread out on a bluff above the coast highway.

6

There was a hard movement at my side and Bill Chess said, "Look there!" in a voice that growled like mountain thunder.His hard fingers dug into the' flesh of my arm until I started to get mad. He was bending far out over the railing, staring down like a loon, his face as white as the weather tan would let it get. I looked down with him into the water at the edge of the submerged staging.Languidly at the edge of this green and sunken shelf of wood something waved out from the darkness, hesitated, waved back again out of sight under the flooring.The something had looked far too much like a human arm.

18

"Then Lavery knew the Almores-or Mrs. Almore." She flushed very slightly. "Yes. Quite well.""And a lot of other women-quite well, too. I don't doubt that. Did Mrs. Kingsley know her too? "Yes, better than I did. They called each other by their first names. Mrs. Almore is dead, you know. She cornmitted suicide, about a year and a half ago.""Any doubt about that?" She raised her eyebrows, but the expression looked artificial to me, as if it just went with the question I asked, as a matter of form.She said: "Have you any particular reason for asking that question in that particular way? I mean, has it anything to do with-with what you are doing?" "I didn't think so. I still don't know that it has. But yesterday Dr. Almore called a cop just because I looked at his house. After he had found out from my car license who I was. The cop got pretty tough with me, just for being there. He didn't know what I was doing and I didn't tell him I had been calling on Lavery. But Dr. Almore must have known that. He had seen me in front of Lavery's house. Now why would he think it necessary to call a cop? And why would the cop think it smart to say that the last fellow who tried to put the bite on Almore ended up on the road gang? And why would the cop ask me if her folks-meaning Mrs. Almore's folks, I suppose-had hired me? If you can answer any of those questions, I might know whether it's any of my business." She thought about it for a moment, giving me one quick glance while she was thinking, and then looking away again.

23

"How can I find Talley-and what it was that laid the groundwork of suspicion in your minds. It must have been there, or you wouldn't have hired Talley without a better showing from him that he had grounds." Grayson smiled very thinly and primly. He reached for his little chin and rubbed it with one long yellow finger. Mrs. Grayson said: "Dope." "She means that literally," Grayson said at once, as if the single word had been a green light. "Almore was, and no doubt is, a dope doctor. Our daughter made that clear to us. In his hearing too. He didn't like it." "Just what do you mean by a dope doctor, Mr. Grayson?" "I mean a doctor whose practice is largely with people who are living on the raw edge of nervous collapse, from drink and dissipation. People who have to be given sedatives and narcotics all the time. The stage comes when an ethical physician refuses to treat them any more, outside a sanatorium. But not the Dr. Almores. They will keep on as long as the money comes in, as long as the patient remains alive and reasonably sane, even if he or she becomes a hopeless addict in the process. A lucrative practice," he said primly, "and I imagine a dangerous one to the doctor."

25

It wasn't any use. They were behind me and coming fast again. I didn't have any idea of getting away. I wanted to get back where there were houses and people to come out and watch and perhaps to remember.I didn't make it. The police car heaved up alongside again and a hard voice yelled: "Pull over, or we'll blast a hole in you!" I pulled over to the curb and set the brake. I put the gun back in the glove compartment and snapped it shut. The police car jumped on its springs just in front of my left front fender. A fat man slammed out of it roaring."Don't you know a police siren when you hear one? Get out of that car!" I got out of the car and stood beside it in the moonlight. The fat man had a gun in his hand."Gimme your license!" he barked in a voice as hard as the blade of a shovel. I took it out and held it out. The other cop in the car slid out from under the wheel and came around beside me and took what I was holding out. He put a flash on it and read."Name of Marlowe," he said. "Hell, the guy's a shamus. Just think of that, Cooney." Cooney said: "Is that all? Guess I won't need this." He tucked the gun back in his holster and buttoned the leather flap down over it. "Guess I can handle this with my little flippers," he said. "Guess I can at that." The other one said: "Doing fifty-five. Been drinking, I wouldn't wonder." "Smell the bastard's breath," Cooney said.The other one leaned forward with a polite leer. "Could I smell the breath, shamus?" I let him smell the breath. "Well," he said judiciously, "he ain't staggering. I got to admit that." "'S a cold night for summer. Buy the boy a drink, Officer Dobbs." "Now that's a sweet idea," Dobbs said. He went to the car and got a half pint bottle out of it. He held it up. It was a third full. "No really solid drinking here,"he said. He held the bottle out. "With our compliments, pal." "Suppose I don't want want a drink," I said. "Don't say that," Cooney whined. "We might get the idea you wanted feetprints on your stomach." I took the bottle and unscrewed the cap and sniffed. The liquor in the bottle smelled like whiskey. Just whiskey. "You can't work the same gag all the time," I said. Cooney said: "Time is eight twenty-seven. Write it down, Officer Dobbs." Dobbs went to the car and leaned in to make a note on his report. I held the bottle up and said to Cooney: "You insist that I drink this?" "Naw. You could have me jump on your belly instead." I tilted the bottle, locked my throat, and ifiled my mouth with whiskey. Cooney lunged forward and sank a fist in my stomach. I sprayed the whiskey and bent over choking. I dropped the bottle. I bent to get it and saw Cooney's fat knee rising at my face. I stepped to one side and straightened and slammed him on the nose with everything I had. His left hand went to his face and his voice howled and his right hand jumped to his gun holster. Dobbs ran at me from one side and his arm swung low. The blackjack hit me behind the left knee, the leg went dead and I sat down hard on the ground, gritting my teeth and spitting whiskey. Cooney took his hand away from his face full of blood.

26

The cell block was almost brand new. The battleship gray paint on the steel walls and door still had the fresh gloss of newness disfigured in two or three places by squirted tobacco juice. The overhead light was sunk in the ceffing behind a heavy frosted panel. There were two bunks on one side of the cell and a man snored in the top bunk, with a dark gray blanket wrapped around him. Since he was asleep that early and didn't smell of whiskey or gin and had chosen the top berth where he would be out of the way, I judged he was an old lodger. "...I sat down on the bunk again. It was made of flat steel slats with a thin hard mattress over them. Two dark gray blankets were folded on it quite neatly. It was a very nice jail. It was on the twelfth floor of the new city hall. It was a very nice city hail. Bay City was a very nice place. People lived there and thought so. If I lived there, I would probably think so. I would see the nice blue bay and the cliffs and the yacht harbor and the quiet streets of houses, old houses brooding under old trees and new houses with sharp green lawns and wire fences and staked saplings set into the parkway in front of them. I knew a girl who lived on Twenty-fifty Street. It was a nice street. She was a nice girl. She liked Bay City. She wouldn't think about the Mexican and Negro slums stretched out on the dismal flats south of the old interurban tracks. Nor of the waterfront dives along the flat shore south of the cliffs, the sweaty little dance halls on the pike, the marihuana joints, the narrow fox faces watching over the tops of newspapers in far too quiet hotel lobbies, nor the pickpockets and grifters and con men and drunk rollers and pimps and queens on the board walk.

 

27

Captain Webber pushed his sharp bent nose across the desk at me and said: "Sit down." I sat down in a round-backed wooden armchair and eased my left leg away from the sharp edge of the seat. It was a large neat corner office. Degarmo sat at the end of the desk and crossed his legs and rubbed his ankle thoughtfully, looked out of a window. Webber went on: "You asked for trouble, and you got it. You were doing fifty-five miles an hour in a residential zone and you attempted to get away from a police car that signaled you to stop with its siren and red spotlight. You were abusive when stopped and you struck an officer in the face." I said nothing. Webber picked a match off his desk and broke it in half and threw the pieces over his shoulder. "Or are they lying-as usual?" he asked. "I didn't see their report," I said. "I was probably doing fifty-five in a residential district, or anyhow within city limits. The police car was parked outside a house I visited. It followed me when I drove away and I didn't at that time know it was a police car. It had no good reason to follow me and I didn't like the look of it. I went a little fast, but all I was trying to do was get to a better lighted part of town." Degarmo moved his eyes to give me a bleak meaningless stare. Webber snapped his teeth impatiently.

28

Webber said quietly: "I suppose some people think we're just a bunch of crooks down here. I suppose they think a fellow kills his wife and then calls me up on the phone and says: 'Hi, Cap, I got a little murder down here cluttering up the front room. And I've got five hundred iron men that are not working.' And then I say: 'Fine. Hold everything and I'll be right down with a blanket.'""Not quite that bad," I said.

"I want to make it that Kingsley's wife didn't shoot Lavery. That his death had something to do with the Almore business. And with Mildred Haviland. And possibly with Dr. Almore. I want to make it that Kingsley's wife disappeared because something happened that gave her a bad fright, that she may or may not have guilty knowledge, but that she hasn't murdered anybody. There's five hundred dollars in it for me, if I can determine that. It's legitimate to try." He nodded. "Certainly it is. And I'm the man that would help you, if I could see any grounds for it. We haven't found the woman, but the time has been very short. But I can't help you put something on one of my boys." I said: "I heard you call Degarmo Al. But I was thinking of Almore. His name's Albert." Webber looked at his thumb. "But he was never married to the girl," he said quietly. "Degarmo was. I can tell you she led him a pretty dance. A lot of what seems bad in him is the result of it." I sat very still. After a moment I said: "I'm beginning to see things I didn't know existed. What kind of a girl was she?".

 

Add Email on the incident in which you were hassled over returning this book

Also ad how Green Santa Monica is and the political history of the Greens support of Hitler in Germany

 

////////////Add pages from web for 2010 "dope & Liquor' 'cure' joints in SM & Westside

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

II
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Part 2

The Televised Assassination Of Senator Kennedy In Los Angeles June '68
--- August '68 Running Away, Some Friends From Covina Hide Out At Their Grandma's In Santa Monica --- My Subsequent Arrest By Santa Monica P.D. & Return Home To Covina --- Grandma's Brutal Rape & Bloody In October '68 Murder --- The Crime Scene Very Santa Monica Garage Where I Hid Out In August --- Stonewalled By Police Detectives, Her Son, My Covina Freind's Father Makes Inquiries & Turns Up Dead By November '68 ---

The Ritualistic August '69 Tate-LaBianca Murder Attributed To The 'Manson Family' --- Rumors Of CIA Mind Control, Drugs & Satanic Rituals At The 'Manson Family's Spahn Ranch, All Apparently Sanctioned By Local L.A. Police & Sheriff's --- Feds, Narcs & DEA

 

 

III
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Part 3

The Nature Of My Research In April, May & June 2010 For Part 3 And Sub-Parts
Of My Online Nonfiction Narrative "1979" --- Harrassment By LAPD During My May 2010 Long Distance Call To Registrar Felder At The University Of California San Diego

This As I Was Making Inquiries About University Policies Regarding The American Public's Right Of Access To The Academic History Doctors Who Received Their Medical Degrees From The University Of California --- This Having Been Stonewalled By U.C. Irvine --- My Objective Being Regarding The Top Secret Training & Medical Degree Dr. Maldonado Received Back In 1952 At The Start Of The CIA-Military's MK-ULTRA Mind Control Assassination Program Which Ran Until 1973 --- This, Prior To Dr. Maldonado's Post Graduate Degree Which He Recieved From U.C. Irvine School Of Medicine In 1962

Add details of May 2010 phone call to Registrar Felder & LAPD shakedown

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Add cover of The Search For The Manchurian Candidate

 

 

 

 

 

 

IV
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Part 4

This truck from 'Maldonado Medical' miraculously appears near a place where I work in Venice --- only minutes after the contrived June 2010 incident at Santa Monica Library after I stood up to a
6'-4" thug who tried to intimidate me at the library, followed by a verbal assault from Santa Monica Library Guard who was conspicuously missing his name badge that night. --- The asshole library guard then badgered and harrassed me thereas I am shutting my laptop and packing up as I am trying leave and even tried to jump in the elevator with me until I jumped out before the doors closed. The guard then barked at me all the way down the stairs on out to the exit.The message was clear don't fuck with Dr. Maldonado by researching his professional history, whereas he's part of the medical-industrial mafia. The same multi-billion dollar medical industrial mafia that pours mega millions of dollars into Santa Monica municipal coffers every year.

 

 

V
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Part 5

Playing 'The Race Card' To Conceal The Actual Sinister & Subversive Political Motives Behind The 'Trumped Up' Library Incidents Contrived To Deprive Me Access To The Newspaper Microfilms Used In My Research

The Japanese Ethnicity Thereof Both Libarian-False Witnesses --- In Each One Of The Two Seperate 'Staged Incidents' At Santa Monica Public Library In May 2010 And Later In June 2010 --- Apparently Suggestive Thereof Racial Cliques In The Santa Monica Library Staff --- Are Librarians Of Other Ethnicities Presently Being Coerced To Fabricate Other Forms of Perjury, Falsehood Based On Twisted & Distorted Other Versions Other Incidents

It's Likely Connections To My Own Japanese-Danish & Dutch-Anglo American Ethnicity. My One Quarter Japanese Ethnicity, With Relatives At The August 1945 Nagasaki Nuclear Weapons Test Site Witnessed By My Full Blooded Japanese Grandmother --- Possible Ties In To Addenda Contained In Part 3 Of "1979" --- Most Particularly Those Excerpts Referring To The Postwar Reinstallment Thereof The Very Same Japanese Imperialists, Corporate Mafias & Yakusa Gangster Orgs Which Took Place During General MacArthur's Post-War Occupational & Reindustrialization Phase In Japan --- My U.S. Army Captain Father's Murder There In Japan Only Weeks Before My Birth In March 1953

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

VI
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Part 6

Concealment & Suppression Of The May & June 2010 Incident Reports By S.M. Library Administration To Conceal Criminal Records & Mental History Of Agent Provoatuer Thugs & Mental Cases --- Thugs & Mental Cases Protected By Santa Monica Librarian Fishler & Library Security Personal, One Whose Namebadge Was Missing During The June 2010

 

 

 

Add CIA NSA FBI DIv 5 --- Also Montage of the Halloween 1979 Western DC-10 crash --- Link to 83 Sec Serv Murders --- 79 interview & TMI
MI 6 & Spiro family massacre

 

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