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He was drawn to Sol and me because he identified with us. He liked us because he too believed that he was being watched. In fact, he was a lot more important than we were because he was being watched by the C.I.A. Before meeting his ultimate ill fate he had been one of the best commodities brokers.
His name was Bob Grossclose and was from Abilene Texas. I first heard Sols' oldest daughter talk about Bob. She mentioned how brilliant he was. I thought she was talking about another Bob. The one I knew was a P.E. coach in high school. I had known that Bob years before this. I had quite a lot of problems with this coach. This could have been because of my basic irreverence toward football and football players.
It turned out that the Bob in question was a different Bob. I thought they were talking about Bob Senior, the coach. They weren't not. They were talking about the coaches' son. He was Bob G. Jr.
I was prepared not to like Bob Jr. before I ever meet him. This was because of what had happened years before between his dad and me. His dad considered me a prime example of a bad citizen. This was based upon my refusal to stand up in the pep rally when the football players entered the gym. Anyone showing disrespect for football in Abilene Texas was obviously a bad citizen. Even though I was not a good student in school I felt that school was about learning. I never could understand why people got so excited watching football. If I was all that excited about the game I wouldn't be watching it. I would be playing it.
As for Bob Jr., I was wrong. In spite of the problem I had with his dad, I liked him. I would say that Bob was quite crazy. At the time he was a potential killer. Bob and I communicated very well. The Bob I knew turned out to be a likeable paranoid. After what had happened between the other Bob G. and me I cringed when first I heard his name.
He was proud to be a part of a school that could boast of being number 1 in football. Bob didn't even want to try to understand anyone that refused to see things his way. In fact, most of the school was caught up in what seemed to me to be an absolute worship of the game and its players. The people that would show up for a game would number 10 thousand or more.
Football was big business in Abilene Texas. What I obviously didn't understand at the time was the big bucks that where derived from ticket sales for these games. The main coach was given a new car every year to help him celabrate his success.
To ensure that this success would continue the coaches would send out scouting parities to the nearby towns to seek out the best players around the area. Now it might have ruined these players' amateur standing to be out and out offered money to come to Abilene to play high school football. Who would be the wiser though when their dads were, suddenly and without warning, offered a great paying job in Abilene Texas.
One such good football player's family was unable, for unknown reasons, to avail themselves of the good luck of having a great football player in their midst. Their son somehow ended up living at the fire station in Abilene while he played football and went to school. Considering the amount of money that football games brought into the school funds it is not too surprising that in Bible belt, fundamentalist, Abilene Texas, late 50s early 60s, coaches were held in almost priestly reverence.
Somehow I viewed this whole operation as some what iconoclastic. This was probably because I wasn't a football player. No one was giving me or my family any money. I wasn't in on the scam. Otherwise I might have felt differently. These football players were busting their asses. As a result their families prospered and the coaches drove new cars each year. Because of this I lacked respect for them. Football was supposed to be a game. It was supposed to be fun. They made a business of it and then refused to admit it. It was required by unwritten school law for the entire student body to rise from their seats and cheer. This was to occur when the players entered the gym for pep rally. I refused. I decided to simply remain seated in silent protest to this sham.
Coach Bob would scowl at me with contempt. Several times I was sent to the office and paddled for my attitude. Mind you, it wasn't at all that I, in any way, disliked the players. It was just how I perceived they were being used that bothered me. Some of them were my friends.
We, for various reasons, had discovered that we were under surveillance. The full gravity of the situation didn't hit us until it was revealed by none other than the government itself. They had spent more than 4 million dollars on our personal surveillance. It's nice to have folks interested in you, don't you think? People like Bob seemed drawn to Sol and me.
It was not till some time later that the full magnitude of just how paranoid our situation was dawned on us. Then I got into the real spirit of paranoia. I became paranoid mostly from my friendship and close association with Sol. This was taking place from the years or 1975 to 1979. It was during this that most of Sols friends became my friends and his enemies where included in the package.
We can talk more about that later. I want to get back to Bob's story because he is truly one of the most fascinating paranoids I have known. Bob seemed to get stranger each time I saw him. As I said earlier, he would tell me about the C.I.A. following him everywhere. Some really wild stuff was revealed by Bob. Here is what he revealed some time after the C.I.A. and the L.S.D. stuff. Those stories were nothing compared to the tails about how he was in communication with extra-terrestrials by a telepathic mind length.
That, he explained, was how he was able to make all those fascinating financial guesses. He made them about the futures market. "They", (meaning the extraterestrials) would tell him when it was going to hail on the soybeans. The price was going to shoot up because of the shortage caused by the beans being hailed out. It might have been inconceivable. It might have been too wild to be true, except that I have seen U.F.O.s several times myself.
I have never knowingly talked to a space being like Bob claimed he had. I have tried to keep an open mind on the subject. I don't recall having ever been abducted by them either. The occasion of actually seeing a flying saucer will tend to make one open to the concept. I won't go into the details of this right now. We will save that for another book. I just wanted to relate that much to the reader who might have missed such an experience.
Saying this much might let you know some reasons that Bob and I could relate so well. After this, there were the stories that Bob would tell about the illuminati. He said they were trying to influence his wife to leave him. It was because they wanted to strip him of help and allies. He said that his father in law, was one of, "Them." You know who, "They" are. "They" are the "Them" that are always out to get "us". That is just the way it is with us paranoids.
It was to be some time after my paranoia was to be in full bloom that I was to hear anything more from Bob. I had moved back to Austin. For some time I had been hiding in the woods around and in Austin Texas. When I wrote this I had been living as a hobo for years. This was so they would not know how to find me. I just wanted "Them" to leave me alone. If you don't know who they" are, just keep reading and I am sure you will catch on.
In spite of how sinister "They" were I could stand to live underground only so long. I felt that I just had to surface a bit. There was a need to see what was going on. My curiosity may get me into trouble someday, but there are certain events and people that I feel drawn to. There is a need to keep up with the latest news despite feelings of danger. So, after hitching back to my home town where it all happened I found myself on the doorstep of my old childhood buddy. I am referring to my friend, Dearld Bright. Dearld was the guy who married Sol's daughter, Jan. From Dearld's house I called Sol's oldest daughter, Pam. (This is the daughter who wrote the book,
Pam greeted me with enthusiasm. She exclaimed that I was back just in time to go to my old friend, Bob's murder trial. Murder Trial? I was shocked into a semidaze. Did she mean someone had killed Bob, or did she mean that Bob had done in someone? I soon found out that it was the latter. She explained that he killed his father-inlaw because he was one of "Them."
"Oh", I replied. I knew that he had said long ago that his father-inlaw was one of "Them, but I didn't think that he would have decided to do him in. I asked, " Why did he do it?" Pam replied that Bob said that a little man in a silver helmet from a space ship told him to do it. Bob must have really gone nuts, I thought to myself. I recalled how my last meeting had gone with "poor old Bob."
I had wondered at the time how much of Bob's story was real, and what wasn't? No one could discount Bob's uncanny ability to predict the futures market. If it wasn't for that I could have just written him off as a total nut. I have found that in this crazy world, sometimes a person's survival is dependent upon being a nut. Despite what was wasn't real with Bob, one truth was certain. Bob would need all his friends to vouch for the fact that he was a total nut. Otherwise Bob was in big trouble over this one. His survival depended on being found crazy.
Let me tell you about Bob's trial. Pam and I decided that we, and who ever else wanted to go, would testify. We must tell the court that our friend was a total nut. If we didn't they were liable to fry Bob in the chair. It didn't look too good for old Bob. This was especially so because his father-inlaw had been the district attorney of Natches Mississippi. To insure there would be a fair trial there had been a change in venue. The trial was moved from Natches to Fayette, a town a short distance away from Natches. I had never been to Fayette before this time. Four of us decided to make to trip to see if we could be helpful to Bob. Beside Pam and me, an old friend of mine by the name of Helen G. and Sol's wife, Patsy, had decided to go. We had talked it over between us. We decided that although Bob was a bit strange, he certainly didn't deserve the chair or the gas chamber just for being a bit crazy.
Bob cut a good image. The problem was that he might come off as, 'too well'. If this happened they would kill him. It is, after all, illegal, even in Mississippi, to blow your father-inlaw's shit away, especially if he is the district attorney of somewhere. This kind of activity is considered to be bad manners.
I don't know if it was my imagination or if I actually heard through the door a member of the all black jury say, "That honky isn't crazy, he just blew his father-inlaws shit away."
I heard Bob's mother later say that they had sent Bob to a real nice place. She said that Bob liked it a lot. He had many friends there and was very happy. At least Bob would never have to worry about paying rent. There you have it! This has been but another paranoid success story. Keep reading this valuable information. There is more to come. Bob never had to worry about paying rent again. He lived out his years happily in the mental hospital. Bob is just an example of one of many interesting people Sol and I attracted as a result of the wonderful publicity that the federal government saw fit to bring into our lives.
If what I am saying here is just a bunch of lies, it probably isn't worth getting that upset about. Any injury that I would receive from the government or others that will be covered here would no doubt serve only to validate what I am saying. I will feel much better when this book reaches the market.
If anyone were to get vindictive about some stuff that I plan to lay out here, it would be just like shutting the gate after the cows got out. That would add validity to what I am saying. It would remove all doubt that what I'm saying here is true. After this book comes out, the safest thing that the powerful enemies can do, and the wisest, is to ignore it and hope that everyone else will. To raise hell about what I intend to reveal, will, in my opinion make the book sell better. So, go ahead and make my day! I am just ready for the old ways of living to die so that I can live like a human being again.