Genesis, Part 1

In the beginning, Mark Zuckerberg created Facebook.

At first, Facebook was without world-wide exposure. In fact, Facebook was restricted to a few college campuses. Zuckerberg’s original vision was of something that would connect college students. He didn’t see it connecting everyone.

In those long-ago days, you had to be a college student to even access Facebook.

Rebecca Phillips Ketchie was one such college student. Doing graduate work, in 2005, she started a Facebook group called “Bob Jones University survivors.”

She thought it would attract grad students, or transfer students, and let them connect. The word “survivors” was never intended as a pejorative – like “surviving a tornado” or “surviving mistreatment.” It was tongue-in-cheek, like the t-shirts sold in shops along the Alaska Highway—”I drove the Alaska Highway and survived.”

And it did attract some people. And everything rocked along fine for a while, but Facebook became a phenomenon not just of college campuses, but across the nation and then around the world.

And in a matter of just a few years, Rebecca realized she needed some help. For one thing, the number of participants had multiplied beyond anything she ever expected, or even desired. For another, the entire tone of the group had changed.

Intended as a place where former students could laugh about the “good old days” when they were younger, things changed as the Disaffected began to show up. In short, Camille and the Court (in the form of St. Catherine, David Shaffer, and Dan Keller) arrived. Many threads were diverted to BJU-bashing instead of reminiscing.

Rebecca asked a few people to help her do moderation. Among those were Phil Lehman, Nancy Kepler Bean, Hannah Goodman and Leah Hayes.

Here’s the basic story. Cathy Harris joined an ongoing conversation about counselors at BJU questioning guys about whether or not they masturbated. She told her oft-repeated story of having been counseled by Walt Fremont and having Fremont ask her the same question.

A forum member named Alex (I forget his last name and can’t find anyone who remembers it) objected, saying that Walt was dead and it just wasn’t fair to accuse somebody who couldn’t defend himself. Cathy took umbrage. Camille entered the fray, in defense of Cathy.

During the argument that ensued, Alex told Camille that he was going to return in an hour and post something that he knew about Grant.

Camille went completely apeshit and began yelling loudly for somebody to ban Alex, and remove the comment. She insisted that Alex was alluding to some sort of sexual indiscretion on Grant’s part. I wonder why she assumed that?

Alex said that if they removed it, he would simply post it on the net elsewhere, which resulted in all sorts of unhappiness. (I sort of understand how Alex felt. Tell me that you’re going to remove something I said, and watch how I react.)

After the allotted hour, Alex came back with his “story.” It seems that he’d seen Grant going into chapel one day, putting a stick of chewing gum in his mouth. [For the uninitiated, chewing gum on the BJU campus was a major no-no.  I don’t know if that’s still the case, but it sure was in my day.]

That’s the bare bones story. The entire thread was ultimately deleted and no screen shots remain that I know of.

Here’s Cathy’s take on it in the form of a “note” on her Facebook page:

Take note: Cathy’s encounter with Fremont occurred in 1983 when she was 18 years old.

David Reese says that the alleged “letter from Berg” is “unbelievable.” I totally agree. It is.

Below, she tells all about how Alex was bad and Leah (who was trying to moderate this little squabble) was bad.

Alex, after discussing the matter privately with Leah Hayes, agreed not to put the thread/argument back up, but allowed it all to just disappear.

Cathy says, “You know me well enough, Leah, that it take[sic] a whole lot to get me really, really angry.” Actually, it takes very little to get Cathy riled. Just one simple phrase will put her in near hysterics: “I don’t believe that, Cathy.” Try it and see.

The best I can figure out is that the incomprehensible phrase Cathy put here is supposed to be either Russian or Ukrainian swearing. This was during the period when she had “found” Elizabeth and Ed Tozar, her fake parents, and they were supposedly illiterate in English (except when “Ed” wrote a totally plagiarized essay in perfect English).

Please notice this. I’ve snipped it to emphasize it.

She’s clear here. At the beginning of her remarks, she emphasizes that she was talking about something that occurred in the 1980’s. That would have been when she was a young freshman student at Bob Jones University.

Cathy told this version of the story in 2010. She says she was an 18-year-old freshman at BJU, and was “forced” into counseling sessions with Walt Fremont and he asked her if she masturbated.

Three years later, though, she tells the same story and it’s changed:

The link is to a blog entry made the same day that she posted it on GRACE’s Facebook page.

In this version, Fremont is talking with her, not as an 18-year-old freshman student, but as a 13-year-old child. Note that she specifically says the “masturbation” incident occurred “years before.”

I wish, while Cathy is lying about Walt Fremont, she would at least learn to spell the man’s name.

Genesis, Part 2


When our son Nathan was about 17, he began writing music seriously. He would disappear into his bedroom, and not emerge for hours. Our office was in the adjacent bedroom, and I could hear his guitar as he played the same phrase again and again. Then there would be a brief pause while he made a notation or wrote a line of lyrics, and then the same phrase.

After an extended period of time, he would sometimes appear in the office, plop down in a chair and say with a grin, “You wanna hear it?”

I’d reply, “Of course.” And he would play his new song.

That’s how I first heard Bittersweet.

And when he finished and looked up, I said, “That’s my new favorite song. Play it again.”

Over the years, that became a family joke. “I know, Mom,” he’d say. “It’s your new favorite song.” And it was. It always was. They still are.

But I was his mother, and mothers always think their children are brilliant. The day came when the music and the fledgling musician had to go out into the big world and let people listen who weren’t his mother. Or his father. The first time we ever saw him perform publicly was at an outdoor concert at Sandhills Community College. The stage was a flatbed truck. The song was Bittersweet. We were proud.

I remember vividly going to his first gigs at local bars and watching, with mild dismay, as the crowd would listen pretty attentively when he played cover songs, songs they were familiar with, but then begin to talk over him when he’d play Bittersweet. As he would write years later:

What do they care if you’re tired?
Sometimes the jukebox gets more courtesy.

From Broad Street by Nathan Davis

And I, being a mom, wanted to spare him any disappointment, and spent a while one day trying to convince him to play cover songs. It seemed to me that if the audience wanted the familiar songs, well, learn them, and play them, and make those tips. Nathan just listened politely and totally ignored me. And continued to play his music. Gig after gig, slowly increasing the percentage of original material and getting the audience used to the idea that Nathan Davis plays mostly Nathan Davis and a smattering of covers. Over time, even the cover songs took on a Nathan Davis flavor of their own.

But the risk was always there. The music was put out there, in the public arena, and subjected to the whims and criticisms of the not-always-totally-sober crowd. He had people who yelled at him when he refused to play their favorite song. He had people who came up on stage and tried to take control of his microphone. He smiled and firmly removed them from his stage. He learned to let the criticism roll away from him. I never saw him down about it. Not a single minute. Those two lines from Broad Street are the only references he ever makes to anything like it.

Not all of Nate’s lyrics are autobiographical, but a good bit of it is. Some of it is confabulated, or heavily morphed, and some of it is based on the experiences of others, but he’s often putting his life, his emotions, his angst out there for everyone to see. And of course, the music is all his. So there was always risk.

The risk of criticism. The risk that people wouldn’t like his songs, that they would either actively hate his music, or maybe worse, totally ignore it. It was always there. It always is when you go public with your story.

So that leads me right to this.

I’ve been asked why I shouldn’t have to reveal every single detail of my life since I’m criticizing Cathy Harris and Camille Lewis and Linda Fossen.

There’s a really good reason.

I have a blog, right here. Wanna criticize me about anything I’ve said here? Have at it. Fossen does. In fact, she does just that, quoting large amounts of my material and refusing to even credit me in any meaningful way. She wants to criticize me without allowing anyone to see what she is criticizing. I link to her stuff. She won’t link to mine. Think about why that might be and what that might mean.

On this web site, I have offered commentary and evidence regarding information that is readily available on the internet. You won’t find me discussing, for example, Cathy Harris’ current place of employment (if any), since she’s never talked about it that I know of, and it’s not addressed in any of her various public blogs. I don’t discuss Linda Fossen’s current savings acount balance, or speculate about who her neighbors might be or what her husband’s favorite TV show is. She doesn’t address any of that in either her blog, her web site or her book. I do not talk about Camille Lewis’s children. I don’t even know how many she has or what their names might be. She doesn’t discuss them on her blog or in her writing. (NOTE: She actually does discuss her children endlessly in the early years of her blog, but I still consider kids to be forbidden material.)

Fossen says above that Cathy “has had her whole life torn apart.”

No, she hasn’t. Cathy put her story on so many blogs and places on the net that I trip over them. She discusses her alleged abuse and various mistreatment and victimhood endlessly. She did it. I didn’t do it. Nobody else did it.

Over the years, I’ve watched her hijack threads in the Survivor’s forums to talk about her alleged rapes and beatings and kidnapping and on and on. If nobody will talk about it, she pouts. I’ve watched her do this repeatedly. She quite obviously wants to discuss it. Fine. I’m discussing it. I’m going to discuss it some more.

Think about this a second. If Cathy hadn’t discussed her alleged “story,” how would I have known about it? Nobody else was talking about it. I didn’t know about her blog(s). I found out about it because Cathy talked about it. From there, I found her blog(s).

The same thing applies to both Fossen and Camille Lewis. I know about them because they, themselves, directed me to the place to find out about them. Their blogs. Their papers. Their books.

How do you suppose that people find out about Nathan’s music? When he was alive, they came to gigs and heard him, sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. Now, they find out via the web site and Facebook. We advertise. On purpose. So are these three women.

But there’s a difference, you see. Nathan put his music out there. He made it available for public consumption. And he took the lumps when they came. He didn’t get nearly as much negative commentary as was possible, but he didn’t know that going in. If he’d wanted to stay all private and safe, he could have just played his guitar in his room at home and nobody would ever have been able to say a word, or yell at him to play something else, or criticize anything.

What Cathy and Fossen both seem to want is to have the right to put their stories out there publicly and insist that nobody ever criticize a word of it. Buy Linda’s book, she says. Absolutely. But good golly Miss Molly, don’t review it. Don’t do so either on a web site or at Amazon. Nope. Pay your money. Buy the book. But do not have an opinion unless it’s the one Linda Fossen wants you to have.

Let me explain something quite clearly, so there’s no mistake. If Cathy Harris would like for her entire section of this web site to disappear in about an hour, she has it totally in her power to make that happen. All she has to do is take down her blogs. Take them down. Done.

One other thing. I am not demanding that anyone answer any questions. Getting your questions deleted, being ignored – that’s already happened to me. I don’t care one bit if any of these folks even read what I write. When I ask a question on this web site, it’s rhetorical.

I’m providing commentary, not seeking answers from anyone. If you don’t like my commentary, don’t read it. It’s quite simple.



Suicide. The word is chilling. I recoil from it. We all do. In my world, it’s especially terrible, because I do not believe anything comes after death. So if a person chooses to die, he’s choosing to go into oblivion rather than hang out and see if it won’t get better.

It’s final. You can’t take it back or say, “Gee, that was a mistake” or get a second chance. It’s done and over.

For that reason, as a society we go to great lengths to try to prevent it. We will make almost every effort in the world to get suicidal individuals the help they need so that they don’t feel that jumping off a bridge is the only solution to their problems.

And we read and hear that we should take every suicide threat seriously. This is not an exaggeration. It’s not incorrect information. It’s true. We should. Even people who threaten suicide repeatedly or make half-hearted attempts often finally succeed.

So, it’s serious stuff. It’s not something to be blown off or discounted.

Everyone knows that.

Everyone knows it, including people who wish to manipulate other people.

And anyone interacting with or near such a person has no way of knowing if they are just being manipulative or are serious. Maybe they don’t even know themselves.

Regardless, it’s unnerving at best and irritating as hell.

I, along with some of my friends, have been accused of “driving” people to the “brink of suicide” so many times in the last few weeks I’ve lost count and have quit bothering to make screen shots of any of it. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what it means to be accused like this over and over again.

One accusation is clearly and demonstrably false. It involves Beth Murschell and the whole DJ Forrester “she abandoned me” debacle. Regardless of what claims are made or how many times those totally false claims are made, there is first, no evidence whatever that DJ committed suicide, and second, no evidence to suggest that Beth was somehow responsible. Even if you bought into the whole “Beth abandoned DJ” nonsense, that happened in August, 2013, and DJ didn’t die until well into 2014, months later. During that period, Beth had no contact with DJ.

So, when I read stuff like this:

I have to wonder what is going on.

And I’ve noticed something while watching this unfold. The only person who seems to have been contacted by these supposed “survivors” who are on “the brink of suicide” or who have attempted suicide is Linda Fossen. Nobody else has said anything, that I recall, about actually knowing about any of this. They’ve all contacted Linda.

One wonders why she doesn’t just call Benny Hinn, but I suppose he’s busy.

Why are alleged survivors from Bob Jones University contacting Linda Fossen to tell her they are in such despair that they are going to try/have tried to kill themselves because bad people have said mean things about totally different people? Why would they do that?


Well, right here. It’s right up there, next to the bottom of the list. In plain English. I never claimed there were five of them. Fossen did that.

But this is an excellent example of what these women do. You make a statement calling them out on something. They don’t like it. They then accuse you of lying and not only insist you lied about the original stuff, but they fasten something totally fabricated in there, like five supposed suicidal people. And she won’t retract it. Watch and see.

There’s one other little story that I want to address. It’s from The Fossen FantasyLand Blog.

It goes something like this: Beth was mean. Cathy decided to kill herself, so she wrote a note revealing the names of all her alleged abusers and also naming Beth and me, along with several other people, as the reason she was suicidal. She got in her car with the note and a gun and was driving to her adoptive father’s house, planning to shoot herself on his lawn. On the way, Camille Lewis telephoned her and told her that some unknown person had started the web site informally known as 2nd Edition. Cathy then called her therapist instead of killing herself. And God is good.

Let’s get this straight now. Cathy Harris decided to kill herself because somebody said some stuff about her on the internet. Cathy Harris. This is a woman who has posted her life story on various blogs all over the damn internet, in graphic detail, and basically accused nearly every adult in her life of having abused her dreadfully. When anyone dares question her veracity about anything, even stuff not related to her alleged pitiful childhood, she goes ballistic and calls that person every name in the book. That Cathy Harris.

She’s written a note. In the note, among other people, she names me, Sally Davis, as one of the people who has driven her to do this. What an evil person that Sally Davis is! She has done this terrible thing.

And while she’s on her way to do the dastardly deed, she gets a call from Camille Lewis, who is there to save the day. This sounds a little like one of those novels where the guy rides in at the last moment to stop the duel, but no matter. Camille saves the day by telling Cathy that somebody, some unknown person, has started a new Facebook page in support of her. Seriously. That’s what she tells her.

And Cathy is so overwhelmed by this outpouring of whatever that she calls her therapist instead of offing herself.

Whew. Just in the nick of time.

This is the start date for the now defunct Facebook page called informally “2nd Edition.” May 23, 2014. Note that. May 23, 2014.

Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that Camille didn’t know it started on May 23, but found out on May 24. Surely she called her dear friend Cathy Harris the second she found out about it. Surely she knew that her dear friend was terribly upset about all the mean things that people were saying about her on the internet. Surely.

Surely, she would call her before Cathy Harris could stew herself into a tizzy and blow her brains out because Sally Davis, who is named in the suicide note, said all the awful things she said? I mean, Cathy would have to have gotten upset about what I said, along with all the other stuff from other people, and just flipped out. This takes more than four minutes. I would assume this might take a day. Maybe longer.

Oh, yes, this. Cathy needs to “address something else” and explain that she is notthe administrator of the 2nd Edition page. Nope, she isn’t. She didn’t start the page. No. The way Cathy knew there was a page was that somebody tagged her in a post, a few days after the page went up.

Wait. I thought she found out about the page when Camille called her and told her and stopped her from killing herself. And before I hear the argument that of course, she lied about how she found out about the page because wouldn’t you do that rather than admit you were trying to kill yourself, all she had to say is “Camille told me about it.” But no, she was tagged in a post. I mean, if you’re gonna lie, why not embellish it nicely? And we would be shocked to know who it was. I guess. We’ve never known, of course.

This is the evil, awful thing I said in private to Dan Keller. This got my name in the “suicide note.” This. Which I wrote on May 24 at nearly midnight. Only wait. That is Central Time. Dan’s screen shot of the same conversation reads May 25. Dan had to forward that entire conversation to Cathy, and it was lengthy. Cathy had to read it all, get upset, stew a while, decide to kill herself, write a suicide note, get her gun (what is a suicidal woman doing with a gun?) and get in her car.

My guess, looking at that whole conversation, is that doing all that would have taken several hours. Did Dan forward it all to her in the middle of the night? Did he pick out the juicy parts and just send those? Why did Dan forward such inflammatory rhetoric to a supposedly dying, suicidal woman? Was he trying to goad her into killing herself? Remember, I made the comments in private. He gave them to her.

But more importantly, how did Cathy put my name in a suicide note saying I was one of the causes of her wanting to die when I didn’t say what I said until two days after 2nd Edition went live?

Is Cathy Harris a mind reader? Did Camille Lewis withhold the information that 2nd Edition had started for two days? Don’t try to tell me that nobody told Camille that it existed for two days, because that’s just ludicrous.

Some observations

Years ago, a friend of mine (“Mike”) was talking to another friend of mine (“Bill”). Mike was totally peeved with me for some reason. It’s been so long ago that I don’t remember what it was about, and I bet Mike doesn’t either. In course of Mike’s anger, he called me a pretty unflattering name. Bill then came straight to me and told me about it.

Decades later, I cannot remember what the argument was about, but I remember the unflattering name. I’m not obsessed with it, but it’s there, in the back of my mind, whenever I have an interaction with Mike.

In contrast, when we left the Fundy Church From Hell, we began getting anonymous letters. They were quite obviously from church people, and were basically hate messages. (Leaving that church was seen as a huge sin and just wasn’t acceptable.) Anonymous letters are terrible. Like fake identities, they often leave the target bewildered and suspicious of everyone around them.

Suddenly, they ceased. It was a relief. We went on with our lives and the sting subsided. When Dave was confident that I no longer cared, he told me what had happened. There were more of those letters, but I never saw them. He got rid of them. He didn’t even read a couple of them. He just burned them.

He did it because he loves me and didn’t want me to feel badly.

I point you back up to the comment I made in private about Cathy Harris. The one that her dear, dear friend, and champion, and supporter, Dan Keller, like my friend Bill, forwarded straight to her.

As far I have been able to see, nobody has mentioned suicide at all (until now) except Cathy’s dear, dear friends and champions and supporters. And they have hammered away at it almost nonstop. Is it possible that repetitively suggesting the possibility of suicide can become prophetic?

Ultimately, if someone chooses to kill themselves, it’s nobody’s choice but their own. When we interact with other people, we are going to run into folks who disagree with us, sometimes vehemently, and folks who don’t believe us. That is just the nature of life. We’ve all been dealing with it since we were children. Using some supposed status as a “victim” or as a “survivor” does not give one license to pull out the “I’m going kill myself” threat every time you don’t get your own way or somebody doesn’t see things from your point of view. I refuse to take responsibility for somebody else’s mental health or their ability to adjust to life in society. If you’re too fragile emotionally to be on the internet, you probably should get away from it.

The bottom line

Suicide threats are serious. And I don’t take them lightly. Nor should anyone else.

cell phone

Suicide is the legal term for killing oneself. Homicide is the legal term for killing somebody else. Both involve violence. And very often sometimes suicidal people are homicidal people before they commit suicide. So, there’s really a very good reason from a purely selfish viewpoint to make sure a suicidal person gets some help, pronto.

And by pronto, I mean really quick. Like now.

Little teensy update

Well, Linda Fossen is just terribly upset with me because of my sentence about the incidence of murder-suicides. And that’s just awful. I don’t like getting her upset. After all, she’s such a reasonable person generally. But that comment of hers made me go look this shit up.

I found figures slightly at odds with hers, like triple the rate. The article’s rates come from 2010, Linda’s from 2011. Who knows why there is so much difference.

But this is case where I will concede. My use of the words “very often” was wrong. However, know this. If you start threatening to kill yourself around me, where you can get at me, if you’re carrying on about bringing a gun to my house and blowing your brains out on my lawn, believe me, I’m leaving. I’ll get you some help, yeah. I’ll do what I can. And then I’m gone. Linda can do whatever she likes, as can anyone else.

But this illustrates what these folks are so good at. Do they address the issue of why my name is in the alleged suicide note two days before I ever wrote anything? Nope. Not a word. Just some bitching about two words that are wrong.

This is why I’ve made a new commitment. The next time somebody tries to tell me that Cathy Harris, or anyone else, is suicidal because I’m mean and nasty, I’m going to find the phone number for the nearest police station to that person’s house and call them. I’m going to tell them I want to forward them a screen shot of the suicide threat this person seems to have made, along with as much contact information as I can find for the person who posted the information about the supposed threat, and ask them to do a well check.

I would suggest that all of you commit to the same thing. If you’re such good friends with these folks, surely that’s the least you can do.


Daniel Madera

Okay, Cathy, you and Daniel want to talk about it?  I’ll let you.  Right here, tagged with everyone’s name and everything so Google can find it.  But to do that, we have to clarify what we are talking about, so I will.

Here’s the rumor as I have heard it.

Daniel Alfonso Madera was having a sexual relationship with BJU student. At some point in that relationship, the girlfriend says that Daniel raped her.

It’s entirely possible, you know, to have an ongoing sexual relationship with somebody and still be raped by that same person.

I know who the girlfriend is, but she hasn’t spoken in public about this that I know of, so I will not use her name.  It’s only you and Daniel that keep going apeshit about it.

Anyway, the rumor is that Camille K. Lewis, aided and abetted by you, Cathy Harris, somehow got the BJU administration to not believe the girl and she left town or left school or something. Remember, this is a rumor.  It may or may not be true.  It’s a rumor.

Camille was able to pull this off, so the rumor goes, because she still had some standing at the university, or perhaps was still employed by the university. Cathy, you have no pull with anyone, as we all know.  I don’t know of anyone who thought you were the prime mover.  You were just Camille’s little lap dog.

And as a result of this favor that Camille did for you, Daniel, you became another of her lap dogs.

Daniel, you dumb shit, I have heard this rumor from at least a dozen people.  At least that many.

As far as the political career stuff is concerned, I figured that part out all on my own. You styled yourself as a Republican. You used that name in your screen name someplace (Twitter?).  You were obviously interested in politics in general, and seemed to be sort of into local politics. It wasn’t a stretch to guess that you might think that being a black Republican in Greenville SC might get you noticed politically.

I’m sorry to burst your little bubble, but Beth Murschell was not one of the dozen.

You guys are really big on thinking you know stuff that you simply do not know. Beth Murschell was not one of the sources.

I’ve given up trying to help you guys understand that I never collaborated with Beth, that I really didn’t even know her at all when this started and that I got very little information from her mostly because she just wanted to forget all of you ever existed.

The truth is that I have gotten leads and information and screen shots and stuff from all sorts of people. Lots of different people.  Dozens and dozens of them. There are a whole lot of people who do not like Camille K. Lewis and Cathy Harris.

I remember once that Dan Keller tried his damnedest to identify people on the blog who were commenting. It was sort of hilarious because he was just so wrong.  He didn’t get any of them right. Beth was blamed a lot, even though she never once commented on that blog except under her real name.

It got to be a game where people created screen names intended to make Cathy and Dan and Camille think they were somebody else.

There were several comments about you, Daniel,  on the blog that I didn’t approve because I felt they went way too far into the whole accusatory realm without any facts to back them up.  You never saw those, of course. Nobody did.

This was not some pulled-out-of-the-dustbin rumor. It was an ongoing rumor which I heard almost the minute I heard your name for the first time.  You act like only three people on earth knew about it. The truth is that everyone knows about it.

For the record, I suspect it’s merely a rumor. I suspect that your version of the story is the truth.  I have always thought that. I listened to the story as told to me by several different people (always with slightly different details, as is common with rumors) and came to that conclusion all by myself.

I also sort of get why you might get worked up over somebody bringing it up. There is no statute of limitations on rape in South Carolina and you’d be a black man accused of raping a white woman and that just wouldn’t be much fun and probably not even fair.

You quite rightly and quite understandably don’t want to be accused without evidence.

But you don’t mind one bit accusing Richard Harris with no evidence. Why is that?

See, you nincompoop, coming after me about it won’t help you. Calling me names, as you see, just gets it on the blog with nice Google tags.

I actually didn’t really even look at this at first. Daniel included this screen shot with his original rant which I put above.

He then had the following to say about that.

No, Daniel, nobody read that right.

I didn’t write that screen shot above. That’s not me.

I don’t know who it was.  The screen shot has been cropped so I have no way to know. The website is gone and with it all the comments so I cannot check, but that’s not me.

In the first place, it’s not my writing.  I never use expressions like “male persuasion” and “not in any way, shape or form. . .”  Nor would I ever in a million years abbreviate “bitch” by calling it the b-word.  I just say it right out.

You know, along with motherfucker.

In the second place, the commenter goes on to say “Been reading here awhile. . .”

Why would I say that on my own blog, pray tell, oh genius?

Now Daniel is channeling Frank LaFerriere, who is a total lunatic. Whenever Frank gets a friend request from somebody he doesn’t know, he assumes it’s me.  And then he threatens me.

Does it make you feel big and important, Daniel, to make threats against a 68-year-old woman?

I had to read this whole thing a few times to be sure that he really does think I wrote that comment above.

This does, though, prove my point. I don’t know who wrote that comment. I assure you it was not Beth Murschell. That’s not her writing either.  And whoever wrote it knew all about the whole thing.

Just like I told you, Daniel, this rumor is common knowledge.

A List of Accusations

This might be my favorite thing in the whole world.  A list.

Cathy made a list.

God, I love lists.

We’ll begin at the beginning.

First sentence:  That’s a matter of opinion.  I have been writing, first with a static website and then blogging, my personal opinions coupled with lots and lots of screen shots.  It’s up to the readers to decide if I am wrong.

Second sentence:  I give not one single fuck what “others have publicly published.”

Actually, the rumor was that Camille got the whole thing to go away, not you. Don’t take too much credit. She is the person that gave the impression of being powerful.

Your take on it might be correct.  I have no idea at all.  I just know that there was a rumor and that the rumor persists to the present time. Make of that whatever you will.

I’m going to say it again, Cathy, because you are slow.  I do not believe that Cleo Smith dumped boiling water on you, causing burns over 61% (or thereabouts) of your body, because you failed to please Bob Jones Jr as he watched Carl McIntire rape you.

I think that whole story is a figment of your highly inventive imagination. I also think it’s absolutely hilarious.

I do not believe you had Stage IV bone cancer, complete with bone-saving surgery on your arm (we’ll pass for right now about which arm it supposedly was), or that you got chemo almost nonstop for years, or that you were on experimental drugs, or that you had a terrible time because you were dying and what were you going to tell your teenage daughter that didn’t exist.  No, I don’t believe any of that.

I have no idea what occurred with the Canbys.  I raise questions from time to time. Tough shit, Cathy.  You go very, very public with your bullshit. I go public with my observations.   Funny how we’re not hearing much from them, though.

Oh, “codicil.”  It’s codicil.

Cathy, really.  You repeatedly said that you never laid eyes on those guardianship papers until July, 2017. That’s what you said, not me.

Except, of course, when you were bragging three years ago to Jeffrey about all your research and specifically mentioned those papers. You even mentioned that there was something wrong with the names.

You can’t come back now and pretend you didn’t concoct all this years ago.

If you think Richard Harris committed fraud, by all means, sue his ass.  Do it.  Quit talking about it and threatening about it and just fucking do it.  Your whole “I have an active case with every law enforcement agency in America” thing is getting really old.

This may be the best one.  That really chapped you, didn’t it?  You went bragging in your secret little groups about your fine speech to the Pennsylvania legislature and you never expected anyone to check up on you.

Cathy, I contacted all the senators that sponsored that legislation.  I clearly said so. I really did. All of them.  Nobody ever heard of you, and there were no speeches. Surely at least one of them would remember you if you ever had made such a lovely stirring speech, wouldn’t they?

I don’t even know what you’re talking about. As I said above, I contacted all the senators. You’ll need to be more specific.

I believe that Karen Nelson Lee may possibly be the most gullible person I have ever encountered.  She believes every word you say, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, and that’s really astonishing. Camille finally got sick of your shit, and even Maytag got the hell out of Dodge.  But not Karen.

Well, let’s consider this. It’s an absolute fact that you impersonated “Elizabeth Tozar,” both online and on the phone.

I also believe I’ve presented enough evidence that any reasonable person would conclude that you impersonated a GRACE attorney, calling yourself Beth James.

In addition, I believe that you impersonated Richard Harris, by calling yourself “Concerned Pastor.”  You’re the only person with the motive to do that.

You absolutely plagiarized at least one entire essay (actually, two if you count “Ed Tozar’s” essay on communism) and claimed authorship and have never retracted it.

Don’t you think Camille is probably old enough to handle her own affairs?

This is completely irrelevant.  It has nothing to do with me. Someone got publicly available documents in a totally legal manner and shared them with me.  I do not care about Daniel Flint.  And Lisa had nothing at all to do with any of this, no matter how you try to slander her.

Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t.  You didn’t want anyone to see them except the little bits you chose to share.  And when you did share bits, you claimed to have them “in your possession for years,” like you owned the originals. Unlike you, I don’t care, so I’m going to publish all of it. Every single piece.

The word is “exonerate.”

I’m going to publicize more information, Cathy. All of it.  Go after Harris if you like.  Be my guest. I’ve told you I don’t even know the man.  I have no connection to him.

And before you or Karen drag out something where I said that I knew people who knew him, yes I do.  Beth Murschell, for example, worked for Bethel.  She knew him.  I spoke with Josh Scheiderer at Bethel.  He knows Harris.  I’ve spoken with other people who know him.

That doesn’t mean I’m in cahoots with anyone, or being paid by anyone, or have any vested interest in the innocence or guilt of Richard Harris.

Does the fact that I was in contact with all the sponsoring senators of that bill in the Pennsylvania legislature mean that I am colluding with them, or that I am working for the employer they had during one summer while they were in college?

Seriously, this is so dumb it makes me cringe.

Present the “match,” Cathy.  Really, present it.  Exactly who did they compare your DNA with?  One of Lou’s brothers?  What did they do? Call him up and say, “You know, out of all the people in the entire United States, we think you might be a match with one of our missing persons. Will you give a DNA sample?”

Or did they, after you “found” the Canby family (which you bragged about knowing all about three years ago), did one of them say, “Oh, gee, let me be tested”?

Which Canby relative donated DNA for that testing, Cathy?  When?

No matter. You won’t answer any of that.  It’s sort of like the fake rape guy.  What’s his name, Cathy?

I don’t doubt they have memories of you.  What they don’t seem to have memories of is your mother, do they?

Well, that won’t be very hard for you to do, will it?

You know, since you already have my complete name and address and give it to anyone who wants it for any reason.

Should I do something like that with your Social Security number?

Photos From the Cow Pasture

No, this is not about Frances.

Yes, this is probably going to be boring.

Here’s the deal.  I have a boat-load of documents that were obtained from two places, the Bucks County Courthouse and the Carl McIntire archives at Princeton University.

I am going to be publishing all them. Every single page, and there are hundreds of these pages.

I am going to try my best to group them so they are easier to tag for the sake of Google.

Cathy keeps insisting that I am somehow trying to protect Richard Harris, a man I do not know, have never spoken with, and would have no reason at all to care about one way or the other.  If Richard Harris did something wrong, so be it.  Let Cathy go to court and prove that.

What she’s doing right now, though, is horrible. She is trashing him without presenting the slightest bit of tangible evidence that he ever did anything wrong.  She just makes assertions.  She says the guardianship papers are “fraudulent,” because she insists that Lou Canby was her biological father.  She offers zero proof that is so.

And even if it was true, that doesn’t mean Harris knew it.  Fraud involves intent to deceive. Richard Harris may have been wrong, but that doesn’t mean he knew he was wrong.

I don’t know and I don’t care, frankly.

What is absolutely true, though, is that Cathy is claiming she never saw those guardianship papers until last month, and she keeps doing that even though I showed that she claimed to have them three years ago.  She just ignores that.

So, in an effort to clear the air, I am just going to publish everything I have.  And then, if anyone, anywhere, gives a single fuck about any of this, the Google will direct them here.

This is a collection of photos from the cow pasture rally held at Cleo Smith’s farm in the summer of 1964.  More information about that rally is here.

Note:  This photograph above appears to show a different platform than the ones that I feel pretty sure are from Cleo’s farm.  There’s a wooden rail here, and the other (above it) shows a flat bed truck.  I am not convinced that this is the same event.

Below is the reverse of this photo.  There is that same wooden railing on the platform.  The original cow pasture rally at Cleo’s farm had nothing to do with dedicating an orphanage, but was about the FCC and McIntire’s feud with them.  And the original cow pasture rally occurred in the summer of 1964.

Yes, I know this is the same photograph, but there were two copies in the file. With this copy, there is also the back.

In addition, the researcher sent this clipping.

I believe this clipping is about the rally pictured in those last two photos, and I don’t think that was Cleo’s farm at all.

This is probably an error on the part of the researcher, but one that would be easy to make.

And last, there are two more duplicates, but with Cleo designated.

Revisiting the Tozars

This blurry copy reads in part as follows.

2. That she was formerly known as Ann Elizabeth Tozar and Salina Catherine Smith, but now uses the name Catherine S. Harris, exclusively.

3. That the names of her biological parents are Edward John Tozar and Dorothy Elizabeth Haegle and their present addresses and whereabouts are unknown and have never been known by her.

Read more about this here.

After you do that, let’s go back in time a little bit.

Several years ago, Cathy Harris announced that she had found her biological parents. She said their names were Ed and Elizabeth Tozar.

There was a tearful reunion, none of it photographed or videotaped, however people seem to have donated so that Cathy could go.

There was also a sweet little Facebook page.  I’ve written about this very fake page here.   

You can read a bit of that page here.

I was very new to all this back then.  And I didn’t know then that people had actually spoken on the phone to someone they thought was Elizabeth Tozar, who spoke with a thick foreign accent.  It was so convincing that one woman refused to believe it when she was told that the whole thing was a hoax and that she had actually been speaking with Cathy herself.

As a result of being exposed, Cathy removed the Tozar page and offered the ridiculous explanation for her deception that she was just so abused and she didn’t have parents and she wanted them so badly that she made them up.

In fact, I was told over and over again that the fact that Cathy lied about the Tozar page was proof that she was telling the truth about her whole abuse story.  Lying was the proof of truth.

At any rate, the story, like her cancer, sort of went away.

But then, the Canby family offered themselves as a new sacrifice on the altar of Cathy’s delusions, and Cathy needed to rid herself of the whole Tozar thing.

So now they’re completely fake, totally made up.

Remember, I had no way of knowing, and still  don’t, if Ed Tozar was a real person.

It’s obvious, from the guardianship paperwork, that Richard Harris believes he was.  He also believes that Dorothy Elizabeth Haegle was a real person.  Note that there is nothing there that suggests that Dorothy Haegle was married to Ed Tozar.  In fact, the use of the plural “addresses” would lend itself to the idea that they were not.  It also would go some distance in explaining why Cathy was given up.  Single motherhood was sort of frowned upon in 1964.

This is the sort of thing Cathy, and often her silly mouthpiece Karen, harp on.

Here’s their logic.  I called Cathy out because she created a fake Facebook page, engaged in more than one deceptive phone conversation, and accepted donations for a fake reunion that never took place.  The Tozar page was fake. The Tozar marriage is probably fake as well.  The Tozars, as she portrayed them to be, were fake.  We all know this.

Most importantly, I produced evidence as to why I knew that the Tozars she portrayed were faked. Fake pictures, lifted from other Internet sites.  A plagiarized essay, altered by Cathy.  Phoney phone calls.

What she has now done is take these guardianship papers, which she has had, by her own statement, for at least three years (probably much longer) and declared that Richard Harris made up Ed Tozar and Dorothy Elizabeth Haegle. She offers no evidence whatever that this is the case.  She says that Lou Canby is her biological father. She offers no evidence to back up this claim. She says that it was proven with DNA, but doesn’t explain how that is possible since Canby died in 1977.  There is no mother, no explanation of any mother, not even any speculation about any mother.

But most importantly, she offers no evidence of any sort that Richard Harris was lying in his statement to the court. In fact, she says, without showing us, that there is a birth certificate that lists those two people as her biological parents.  Is there?  I don’t know. I haven’t seen it.  But she says there is.

And if there is, wouldn’t Harris have gone by that?  How would he know who was purported to be her biological parents except by going with whatever Cleo told him or whatever was written on the birth certificate?

She insists that the Canby family were desperately hunting for her, frantically searching and that Richard Harris lied to them about her just nine days before the court guardianship hearing.  But I find that very odd indeed.

First off, you have a family whose brother died in 1977.  They didn’t know he died.  They apparently didn’t attend his funeral. That’s terrible, isn’t it? Nobody told them.

Three years later, they finally decide to hunt for him?


They waited for three years?

Then suddenly, they are frantic?

This smells.  It smells rotten. I’ve been part of family estrangements. Probably everyone has at one time or another.  But I cannot imagine going for three solid years not knowing what was going on with my sibling and then after that length of time, feigning concern about anything.

One other thing is that she claims that they filed a missing person report with the Pennsylvania police.  But then, she also has claimed for years that the FBI and the CIA and Interpol and private investigators and God and everyone was on her active case.  Surely, during all those extensive interviews and reports and shit, she told those fabulous investigators that she had been known as Salina Smith, that she went to Upper Bucks Christian School, that she lived with Cleo Smith and that Lou Canby was also living there.  Surely.

She wants me to believe that all those law enforcement people were so god-damned incompetent and stupid that they didn’t even check the missing persons list, or if they did, they totally missed the name “Salina Canby”?

Did the Canbys visit Harris (or call him) and ask about Salina?  If they did, did Richard Harris lie to them?

I don’t know. It’s possible they did.  Maybe. But wouldn’t they have been asking about Lou?  You know, their brother? The one they didn’t give a shit enough about to even inquire for three solid years?

If you were Richard Harris, how would you have responded to such an inquiry? He had no evidence that suggested that Cathy was related to Lou. He had guardianship of a young girl who was the beneficiary of a trust fund. Were they after that? Did they smell money?  Did they think of Cleo as the “rich lady” that Lou worked for?

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions.  Cathy doesn’t appear to have any answers either.  She just makes accusations.

As I watch this, I keep circling back around to Ed Tozar and Dorothy Elizabeth Haegle.

Cathy absolutely, demonstrably, lied about them. She made a fake Facebook page. She plagiarized an essay. She kept talking about how she was visiting them.  She engaged in deception on the phone, pretending to be “Elizabeth.”

Somebody who does that is either a pathological liar or totally mentally unhinged.  She certainly isn’t a reliable source of any kind of information.


A Taste of the Tozars

I have more to say about the Tozars than Cathy ever did?  Really?

What follows is just a taste of the Tozars.  I got some of Cathy’s comments in various places about them.  And the stuff from the fake Tozar page is not complete, in part because I was just grabbing what I could before Cathy took the page down. Cathy herself, using her real name, is not present. That’s because by that time she had blocked me.

I present the Tozars, as created by Cathy Harris.

Notice how Teresa carries on with her apology? This is what you have to do if you offend Cathy Harris. Teresa understands that.  You have to genuflect and cower.  I don’t call her St. Catherine of Victimhood for nothing.

And this is interesting, as an aside. Cleo was not IFB (independent fundamental Baptist) at all.  But this was early in 2011. Cathy hadn’t gotten her terminology right.  Carl McIntire was a Presbyterian.

An interesting thing here that I want to point out is that “Ed” and “Elizabeth” have no friends except Cathy’s friends. They don’t appear to know anyone else on earth.

All these names that are tagged? Cathy’s friends. Some of them have wised up in the years since all this happened, and are no longer her buddies, but there are almost no names there I do not recognize.

See how Cathy uses “Elizabeth” to blast away at Richard Harris?  She uses the story that somehow “Elizabeth” and “Ed” went to Harris and asked about their daughter who went missing. And Harris lies to them.

Does this sound familiar?

Lara is talking about Jocelyn Zichterman. Cathy and Camille decided they hated Jocelyn and set out to destroy her, something they’ve attempted again and again since. I’ve experienced their wrath, of course, but I’m not the only one. And “Elizabeth” is all interested in this stupid shit.

I wonder as I look back at this if Lara feels betrayed by this. She apparently does not, since she has remained a leghumper.

Is there any reasonable person who would believe that a woman of normal intelligence who had lived in America since 1962 would be so completely unable to write English?  This, of course, is Cathy’s imagining of how an immigrant would write.


Before I continue with the saga of Cleo’s estate, I want to insert this little observation.

From time to time, Cathy produces a document from her past.  She tends to offer this stuff up as evidence of something or other.


Stuff like that check.  I went into this a couple of years ago at the link above, and then in more detail, recently,  when I got more information, here.

As I mentioned on that page, I got the files. I got the archival stuff.

Cathy thinks that Lisa Luthi got it for me, but that’s not true. Somebody else did.  But one interesting little thing: Cathy uses “lesbian” as a pejorative. She’s attempting to insult both of us.

This is a common claim they made, that I am somehow still a fundamentalist Christian.  But I would never use “lesbian” as an insult. It would be no different than trying to insult Deb by calling her a red-head, or Lisa by calling her retired.  Who, exactly, is exhibiting characteristics of fundamentalism, like homophobia?

But there’s more.

This is sort of typical. She says that she’s had these documents “in her possession for years.”

She implies that she actually owns the original document and it resides in her home and has for years. She never says where she got the documents. She just has them.

See how she puts up those photos like she has them?  Like they came out of a family picture album?  You know, memories?

It turns out that she doesn’t have the originals of any of them.

Here are my copies of those photographs she has above.

There are more. I’ll put them all up later.

The documents I have came from two places.  One was the Bucks County Courthouse. Those are all the papers from Cleo’s estate, the probate papers, the guardianship paperwork, her will, her death certificate.

And this was the source of the rest.

I have known for a long time that the McIntire papers were at Princeton University, but they are not online.  And there are, as you can see, 669 boxes of them.  Daunting indeed.  There has been some cataloguing done, but still it’s a task to go through them.

So my source arranged for a researcher to go through those papers and find anything related to Cleo, or the farm, or Bethel Baptist Church, or Richard Harris.  Some of the results include the paperwork regarding the farm agreement, but also include things like scribbled notes on the back of envelopes and handwritten memos and yes, photos taken at the cow pasture rally.

Those documents that Cathy provided above and says that she’s “had in her possession for years” actually reside at Princeton University in the Carl McIntire archive.  I know, because I have copies of them too.

Cathy has quite obviously done exactly what my source did, and gotten a researcher to go through those papers, or she went to Princeton and did it herself.

Now, consider this.  Would Cathy have gone to all the trouble to go to Princeton (or contact Princeton and pay a researcher) looking for papers about Cleo in Carl McIntire’s archives, and she didn’t bother to check at the local fucking courthouse?

I assure you that my source did the courthouse first. It was the easier thing to do, by far.  Any sane person would start there.

Furthermore, Cathy insists that she has filed police reports, and talked with the FBI, and has had this ongoing investigation for years and years. I’ve been told that I will be put in jail because I am openly doubting the story of a supposed federal witness in a current investigation.

But nobody went to the courthouse.

She didn’t know about the guardianship papers. She didn’t know they were at the courthouse. She didn’t find them. The police didn’t find them. The FBI didn’t find them. They’ve had years to do this.

Lisa and I supposedly knew about the guardianship papers before Cathy did.

Karen mentions it in the comment where she calls me a fundamentalist above.

Just so we’re not mistaken, here.  Cathy never knew about the guardianship filing until I posted the paperwork onlineShe didn’t know. 

Poor thing.

She’s senile.

She’s got Alzheimer’s.

Somebody needs to help her. Seriously.  She’s lost her memory.  She can’t remember shit.

The screen shot below came from one of the Manhater pages. The date on the file in my computer is September 8, 2014. That’s when I made the screen shot.

She’s taunting Jeffrey Hoffman. She’s talking about court documents.  She has been digging around in this for a long time, she says.  She found the deed transfer for the farm.  She has both Lou’s and Cleos’ death records.  She knows the names of most of their extended family members. Those sorts of records weren’t at Princeton University in the McIntire archives. Why would they be?  They were at the Bucks County Courthouse. And she had them, in September of 2014, three years ago.

But the best is highlighted in yellow.













We all know this. We all know that anything written, whether online or in a hard copy, can come back to haunt the writer practically forever. We know that private messages, private email, private communication of any kind, are not necessarily private.

The recipient can give the letter to your brother, or forward the email to your boss, or make a screen shot of the private message and post it on Facebook.

It’s not illegal.

But when somebody does it, they destroy whatever trust the other person had in them. Some things are simply immoral without being illegal.

So, with that in mind, here is a warning. These folks can and will share your private messages. They can and will doctor them to make you say things you didn’t say. They can and will make screen shots of what you say in private groups and post them publicly.

Camille K. Lewis

This quote is from a private message between me and Camille. The “reader” who “passed this along” was Camille, of course. Here’s the whole exchange – not just the snippet that is quoted here.

This is Camille talking with Jeffrey Hoffman. They posted a blue zillion of these, and I never did figure out exactly what they were trying to prove.

This is from Dan Keller’s Storify page. It’s a mind-numbingly boring thing to try to wade through, but you’re welcome to try. Be warned – it goes on for page after page after page. But the point is that Camille provided much of it, as did Cathy Harris and Dan Keller.

The page pretty much exists to vilify Jeffrey for anything and everything that Dan can dig up.

Cathy Harris

You don’t even have to respond to these people to have them use private messages against you. The story behind this one involves a situation where Rebecca knew what was going on and just decided not to reply. This is, of course, her choice, and it was actually a very wise one. But that doesn’t stop them.

And they often use “So-and-so has never once spoken to me/Cathy/whoever. Does that seem fair to you?” Don’t fall for it. If you “speak” to them, no matter the method, they can and will use what you say against you when and if you ever disagree with them or get on their bad side. It’s pretty much guaranteed.

Rebecca has been slammed repeatedly on the various Manhater pages. Her crime? She “liked” Beth’s original page, early on. Briefly. That’s it. She’s not in cahoots with me. I’ve never spoken to her on the phone in my life. We have shared a couple of emails but not about Cathy or any of her followers – about an entirely different subject. She is not a Facebook friend of mine.

You don’t have to do much to get body-slammed.


And if you happen to be dead, that’s even better. There’s nobody to come up with the entire conversation so we can’t know context at all. Nor can we know if this one has been altered in any way.

This was presented to “prove” that Cathy was nice to DJ and Beth wasn’t. So DJ killed herself. Only she didn’t.

Linda M. Fossen

Not to be outdone by the other two, Maytag jumps into the pond. She posts this gem, telling us that she unfriended somebody because that person dared to “like” a page that Linda didn’t approve of. Wrap yourself around that one for a second. The person responded politely. I wouldn’t have done so.

I once had somebody contact me in a PM to tell me that she didn’t really approve of the atheist-oriented stuff I posted on my Facebook page. Not only did I not respond, I made sure that she never had to be bothered with seeing anything of mine again in her life. I’m helpful like that.

What I didn’t do, however, was take a screen shot of the message and plaster it all over social media.

And email. Oh, gee, email. Fossen uses email to try to start an argument so she can then go onto Facebook and post the whole thing, or almost the whole thing, which she did here. I cut it short just to save space. If you’d like to see the whole exchange, contact me and I’ll be happy to provide a copy.

This is the part she left out when she copied it all. I cannot imagine why.

Dan Keller

Pay close attention to what Dan is saying here. He’s the “owner” of the screen shot – of me making a comment. He owns it. I do not. He has declared this to be so.

It makes no difference at all what the actual legalities are here. He could be right for all I know. The point is that he thinks it’s just fine to do whatever he likes with my words, shared with him in private.

And furthermore, it’s okay for him to record you without telling you. He’s right. This is legal in South Carolina. But he’s good with that.

And here’s what happens to that off-hand comment I made in a private message to Dan Keller. He doctors it, removing words that change the meaning of what I said entirely, and then posts it all over social media, berating me for “laughing at rape.”

The comment was made in response to his declaration that Cathy Harris had “eyewitnesses” to her life story.

It was quite some time after this happened before I began to realize that Cathy has actually made that claim to people and that they actually believe it to be true.

But see, it doesn’t matter that Dan altered my words to make me say something I clearly did not say. Cathy had requested that be done. And whatever St. Catherine requests is law, don’tcha know. So says the fake attorney (who was Cathy herself).

You know how Dan could have “respected her privacy”? By never giving that screen shot to anyone in the first place. I didn’t do it. He did. If St. Cat got her feelings hurt, it’s not my fault. It’s his.

Karen Nelson Lee

[NOTE: I almost just deleted this whole section of this page when I was moving it from the original site.  Karen wants desperately to be a victim.  She wants me to talk about her.  She badgers me almost daily, hoping I’ll go after her.  This is old stuff, and this is pretty much the only publicity she’ll ever get from me.]

Wow Wow has to get in on the act, too. It’s a funny thing, the way people are. The more of this shit they see around them, the more likely they are to think it’s just fine to do it.

And you notice that Karen says that Beth “gives Cathy too much power,” but nobody takes umbrage with that. They will, of course, if Karen ever irritates St. Catherine. The remark has been noted.

She continues posting some more.

So we find out here that the conversation occurred because of “some concerns” Karen has raised on Beth’s page. We don’t know what concerns and never will because Wow Wow doesn’t tell us, nobody got a screen shot and nobody remembers now. So it’s impossible, you see, to put all this in context. But Beth is…BAD.

She takes to posting them complete with neat notations. Isn’t that nice? We really need Wow Wow’s great perceptions about this stuff. After all, she is just so discerning and has such wisdom about evaluating stuff.

Because all this matters so much. It’s just vital to the state of the free world.

Oh, I see. Karen didn’t mean for it to be public. She was notating it for law enforcement. Probably the special visitors that came to see me with shiny badges.

But she goes on to tell us it is totally okay.

Repeat: Beware

There is nothing that I know of that is illegal about any of this, as I said above.

But do not think that because you have a nice cozy relationship with any of these people right now, they will not do this to you if you ever disagree with them. At the time that I had that conversation with Dan Keller, I had said very little about my personal doubts about Cathy Harris’ claims. Beth’s page was up and I had participated a little bit. I had criticized Camille by writing the Research article on my blog. (And that was most likely what had Dan peeved.) But this web site did not exist. Dan and I were Facebook friends and had been for a couple of years. We’d shared some very nice conversations. I liked him. I thought he liked me okay.

I was very, very wrong.

Jeffrey Hoffman was friends with several of these people, good friends.

They can and will do this to you, too. Nobody is immune.

So what do you do about it?

Whatever you like. As far as I am concerned, I wish I had never accepted a friend request from either Dan or Camille. I wish that I had removed myself immediately from any group where they participated, and avoided conversing with them on mutual friends’ walls. And if I had it to do over again, I would have blocked them all from the start.

But I didn’t know. There was no page like this to show me what they do with private messages and emails.

There is now.

I wonder how long that will last…