Thursday, 27 April 2017

The Truth About the Doctor Profession in the Context of an Evil Culture

Veterinary doctor

I almost ended up a vet. It could have been worse, I could have become a doctor and they are always the first in line of health developments in a region that often have to be kept secret.

They have to keep their mouths shut about their observations otherwise they don't get to see their kids grow up and I know I can't keep quiet about major issues ... not because I am foolish, but because I suffer from healthy paranoia. I tend to connect things rapidly, and if the danger appears to come my way, which it most often does in part because I am a slave of the "there but for the grace of God go I" logic, and also because I am aware of the many other things that are done to keep people under in this culture and I know my silence will lead to the death of those I think I will not see if I speak out, the children I am fending for and think I am protecting by keeping quiet, I will share what I know with as many others as I can, as quickly as I can, in the hopes my efforts will correct matters ... then I'll duck.

Obviously, as a practising doctor, I would have ended up dead or living in exile a long time ago.

Here's the truth about doctors in the context of an evil culture that maybe you did not know about. If people are dying in more numbers than usual, the age groups, and all the other details that can make a conspiracy apparent, doctors are the first to know. They chart the developments from the moment people come to see them with minor complaints to when they are serious.

Often, for various reasons that include complicity or pressure from more powerful entities in society, governments want to keep these developments secret and this is where the trouble starts for me.

You see, there are many ways people are assassinated and sometimes, believe you me, entire planes full of passengers are downed just to get one man. Communities getting too clever for their own good can be sabotaged, including the very government officials acting like they are taking up a contract and safe from harm.

One way this can be done is through the food supply chain. So ... it is not just enough if you know your community can be targeted to stop buying from the local groceries or eating at the restaurant if you realise you are the target yourself because the larger community can be attacked in order to take out a smaller one within, or an individual, just like a jumbo can be dropped from the sky to get one activist or just someone people in power fear. Your safety, or that of your loved ones, cannot be guaranteed by evasive measure of this kind.

S**t happens!

Your best bet of saving lives starts when you realise s**t happening is an order of life, and when it happens in your life you need to not just acknowledge it, like a man grabbed by the leg by a croc has to know s**t has happened, and also confront it the best way you can. Trying to wrest your leg free is one way to do this when a cold blooded reptile has clamped its teeth on your leg, the counterpart of which is calling it out when powerful forces in society are behind your woes, if you do not know who they are and where they hang out at.

Make noise and ensure you are heard by as many people as possible. You will not be believed the first time but rest assured people will eventually realise you are telling them the truth and it is not because you are foolish that you are saying something that could bring you trouble, but that, on the contrary, you are already in trouble and what you are doing is the wisest thing someone left with your options can do.

It is, after all, with but two hands that we are put here on earth, and we can only do as much as two hands are capable of doing at a single time.

And You'd think I would have escaped the fate of a doctor because I didn't become one, but I am a target today and, though the death or exile has been postponed, I am going through the motions just as described above. The "two hands we are given" rule is not just a limiting factor, but it also serves as a guide to how I deal with the Target of Covert warfare/Cause stalking status that has befallen me nonetheless.

The devils have been around me forever now, most of my adult life. They are there throughout the day but the hassle bustle of the day almost makes me forget their presence.

At night though, when they choose, sometimes immediately I get into bed or sometime thereafter, the blaring starts and the heating as well. Each single night it seems like a new experience and is unbelievable because it has been ongoing for years.

Years? 24/7?

They must have a crew of people doing shifts on me. Paid ... as in salaried. Can you believe that s**t? But it does happen.

As I go about informing others, I am also aware there are actions and reactions I can expect from them. I know it must be harder on mature human beings hearing a grown man who is evidently coherent, therefore sane, complaining about some sci-fi stuff happening to him.

I think, in view of all this, most people "choose" to consider me mentally challenged. It is a convenient position to take and most people think it saves them from a similar fate while, in reality, they're hiding their head in sand.

Tupac, another rose that grew in concrete, experienced the full gamut of what I am going through ... much more intensely, though, because he was in the fast lane. Making millions. The poor fellow knew people around him could not save him so he took himself out of hospital even when he knew his injuries needed hospital.

Tupac in a wheel chair

He had to do it all himself because he knew others were sleeping. I have survived by doing all the defending necessary from kinetic or directed energies myself because, even when I realise the value I represent to my community (which is why I am a target in the first place) should have made them jump to my rescue a long time ago, my community does not make the realisation, and where they do, they cannot see how they can help me.

I have to do it all myself just like our slain hero Tupac. Even I had to force an early discharge from hospital going home with a cracked skull when I should have stayed in hospital because I was in danger there. The consequence of this was that some blood got onto my brains and, for a while, I lost my mind.

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