PAGE 90 of Social Security Document Submission
Maybe I’ve been out of circulation too long, but this is what I noticed on Saturday afternoon when I was at the Giant Supermarket [located at 4303 Connecticut Avenue, NW, Washington, DC].
As I was walking past a checkout clerk [Adam Skillings], he mentioned the word “six” prominently during the course of a conversation he was having with someone as he spotted me.
Later, as I was waiting in line to check out my stuff, he was getting ready to leave the store, he saw me, then stopped over to the checkout clerk near me and had a conversation. He said, “This is the first time I’m getting off before six on a Saturday.” Then he started to talk about all the different T-shirts he had. He said they were all different colors. He said his drawer was full of T-shirts. He said he just got a T-shirt at the Gap.
On previous occasions this guy has made what seemed to be sexual comments when I was near him. Also, he sometimes looks at my organ when I’m standing in his line.
This is what I read into this:
Six (this appeared to have meaning, because he said it twice, the first time he said it was when he first spotted me walking near him. Also I recalled that in our telephone conversation on Sunday January 12, 1992, your voice seemed to catch when you said the word “six.” I have no idea what it means)
T-shirts (the T-shirts I gave to Craig [W. Dye])
Many colors (my chameleon personality)
Getting off (sexual)
Drawer (The “Bureau”)
Gap (my "lost" personality)
If we treat this as a fantasy, it may indicate a severe oral disturbance since all of these self-referential thoughts occurred in a Supermarket in connection with a check-out clerk.
Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s a fantasy. This is the stuff that gets me very upset.
Also, my “friend” Adam smiled broadly when he saw me just after New Years--Yes, New Year’s!!
[It was around New Years 1991, at the time of the collapse of the Soviet Union, that I formed the belief that Robert S. Strauss, Esq. -- then U.S. Ambassador to the Soviet Union -- talked to Soviet President Gorbachev about me.
[Handwritten notation:] Jan 1992
Page 91 of Social Security Document Submission
Maybe the following will provide some insight into my paranoia.
National Velvet = Dennis Race (horse, race) (Thank you for the kind words Mr. Race, I don’t deserve them.)
Steel Magnolias = Mrs. Robertson (no explanation necessary)
Miss Saigon = Dr. Hirshfield (History 171)
You give new meaning to the phrase, Show and Tell.
[Refers to self-referential ideas I formed during a telephone conversation with my sister. Claire Hirshfield, Ph.D. taught a course in Modern Southeast Asian History (History 171) at Penn State, where I attended college.]
Page 92 of Social Security Document Submission
People always say, “What is it that that bothers him? There must be something that bothers him.”
I’ll tell you what bothers me. I feel like I’m all tied up in “nots.”
Give you an example:
Judge Abraham - “police inspector”
Frank Ford, Shelly Gross, Lee Guber - impresarios
Page 93 Social Security Document Submission
When we talked on the telephone last night, your mentioning of “priority mail” and my mentioning of my monthly problem made me think of the following humorous anecdote (with serious overtones).
In around late September 1987, while working at Hogan and Hartson, just before noon, Craig [W. Dye] and my good friend Michael Wilson
walked up behind me as I was working. Michael Wilson said, “Stop in the name of love.” He then asked me if I wanted to go to lunch with them. I said no, and explained that I had to go to the post office. I think Michael Wilson thought that was sort of crazy--I said it as if I had an imperative need to go to the post office; who has an imperative need to go to the post office? In fact, I did have to go to the post office because it was the end of the month, and I had to get a money order to pay my rent.
Later that afternoon, I mentioned to Michael that I had gone to the post office. Apparently referring to what he thought was the absurdity of my claiming to need to go to the post office, Michael said, “So what are they doing, having a sale on stamps?’ I said, “No, its National Gay Mail Carrier Day.”
(That's something about Akin Gump--lots of entertainment but no laughs.)
Page 94 of Social Security Document Submission
Enclosed is an updated version of my statement. There are additions to paragraph 19, paragraph 33, and the important addition to paragraph 36 (a copy of which was already forwarded).
This thing is somewhat Janusian. The identity that experienced these incidents was “Valjean,” but the identity that wrote the statement is police inspector “Javert.”
[Handwritten note:] I’m going to see to it that those goyim stew in their own mayonnaise!
[Apparently refers to a summary of harassing incidents I experienced at Akin Gump, a copy of which I submitted to the D.C. Department of Human Rights, and which is a part of the record on appeal in Freedman v. D.C. Dept. of Human Rights, D.C.C.A. no. 96-CV-961 (Sept. 1, 1998).]
Page 95 of Social Security Document Submission
Here’s how the Albanians build castles in the sky.
Osip: You know, Iosef, Pelz is Jewish.
Iosef: No, I didn’t know that.
Osip: Take a close look at him. Examine his physical characteristics. All typical features of his kind.
Iosef: Now that you mention it, yes. He obviously is Jewish.
Osip: Did you ever notice that he never takes any time off on the Jewish holidays? In fact, when you talk to him there’s never any indication that he’s Jewish. Have you ever noticed that?
Iosef: Yes, now that you mention it, I have noticed that. What can that possibly mean? Certainly, in view of the fact that he’s Jewish, it does seem a bit odd that he never gives any indication of his background.
Osip: The reason is that he is so ashamed of the fact that he’s Jewish. So ashamed, that he goes to great lengths to conceal his Jewishness.
Iosef: Very clever, Osip! I never would have thought of that myself. He must be very weak and insecure to feel such great shame.
Osip: Not only weak and insecure. He’s also a deceptive scoundrel. Did you know that I visited him at his home at Christmas -- and that he had a Christmas tree in his house?
Iosef: No! Really? A Christmas tree?
Osip: Yes, I saw it with my own eyes. He had a Christmas tree in his house. You see, Iosef, Pelz will stop at nothing to make us believe that he isn’t Jewish. He will even go so far as to manufacture evidence.
Iosef: Well, if he is so weak and insecure, so easily overwhelmed with feelings of shame, and so unscrupulous as to manufacture evidence, doesn’t that mean that he is probably less than honest on a professional, business level?
Osip: Indeed, Iosef. One cannot expect a fair deal with Pelz. He should be expelled from the firm.
Thus, Osip "proves" that Pelz is Jewish, weak, insecure, suffers from overwhelming feelings of shame, manufactures evidence, is socially exploitive, manipulative, and, most damaging, that his professional dealings are suspect.
[This creative piece demonstrates the consequences of paranoia. When the victim fails to show evidence of the characteristics imputed to him by the paranoid party, the victim henceforth not only possesses those characteristics in the mind of the paranoid individual but also shows the character flaw of "deception."
There is an anecdote that the psychiatrist Irvin D. Yalom tells: A patient suffering from paranoia says to his psychiatrist, "I know you're not really a psychiatrist. You're an FBI agent, posing as a psychiatrist." At the next consultation the psychiatrist provides the patient with personal identification, irrefutable proof that he is, in fact, a psychiatrist. But the patient responds: "This proves you're an FBI agent. Only an FBI agent could manufacture such convincing identification on such short notice."
(Incidentally, Irvin D. Yalom, M.D. is professor emeritus of psychiatry at Stanford University and -- like my former treating psychiatrist, Stanley R. Palombo, M.D. -- an editorial adviser on the journal Psychiatry.)
At Akin Gump, rumors were spread that I was homosexual. But because I am not homosexual, there was abundant evidence to the contrary. This contrary evidence was explained away as a sign that I was deceptive and desperate to prove that I was not homosexual: with the implication being that I was not to be trusted on a professional level.]
Page 95A of Social Security Document Submission
[The following is a photocopy of page 181 of Peter Gay’s book Freud, Jews and Other Germans (Oxford: 1978), footnote 20.]
Nor, it seems, was there a recognizable Jewish way of selling crystal and china. In the Berlin of the mid-1930s, my father ran a sales agency with a gentile partner named Willy Pelz. My father was welcome everywhere: with his handsome gray hair combed back in the traditional Goethean manner, his stocky but handsome appearance, his fine hands, his neutral name -- Moritz Froehlich -- and his solid reputation for honest dealings, he had many loyal friends. In contrast, Pelz, obese, coarse, greasy, with unprepossessing curly hair and curved nose, was far less popular. As the Nazis’ grip tightened on all details of life, more than one customer told my father: “Why don’t you get rid of that Jew Pelz?” But in late 1938, when the Nazi regime legalized and encouraged such illegality, the pure Aryan Pelz expelled my father from the profitable partnership without a penny’s compensation. That much for racial characteristics.