Personification of THEIR Mental State

Jackpot Spin Wheel

It was a simple game show, and it should have stayed that way had he not showed up and ruined everything.

The host, a tall, pretty blonde, stood at the foot of a Large, garishly lit rotating disk made of glass with different sums of money printed on the circumference, spaced out evenly.

They ranged in amounts from zeroes to tens of thousands of dollars.

She picked a guest from the audience who was asked a number of simple questions, so simple almost everyone answered correctly. Once that stage was crossed, the host asked the guest to stand in front of the disk, then she handed them a switch at the end of a wire, connected to the disk brakes.

She would then spin the disk and ask the guest to press the button on the switch when they felt the moment was right, but before a minute was done, in order to bring it to a standstill.

There was an arrow placed besides the disk and the spot at which it pointed when the disk came to a standstill was on any one of the sums spaced out around the disc's circumference. This amount is what the guest got to walk away with at the end of the show.

If it pointed at $100,000, then the guest went home $100,000 richer. If it pointed at $0, then they went away with nothing.

Simple enough.

She picked the third guest from the audience that evening, a middle aged, smartly dressed gentleman with a very courteous manner about him. She proceeded to ask him a number of simple questions, and he answered correctly to all therefore got to take his chances on the rotating wheel.

He was handed the switch and told to press the button when he felt the moment was right and see if he got to go home richer.

Then, she spun the wheel, and the clock started ticking.

He stood there watching as the wheel spun around and, looking if he could make out the digits on the rotating disk, he realised they were blurred. He could make out the different colour lights on each number and tried to remember which colours belonged by the larger amounts.

Then he realised he could not quite recall those details. But then even if he could see the numbers or recall the colours placed besides the larger amounts, the disk never stopped at once after the switch had been pressed. It only gradually ground to a halt. He remembered this from the many other times he had watched the show.

He wondered whether he could time the point at which the disk stopped if he could remember how long it took for it to come to a standstill, but then even that entailed knowing where the big numbers were.

His mind raced and behind it all he heard the audience urging him on, with the occasional "Now!" shout here and there when somebody thought the moment to press the button had come.

And he heard over the speakers the host reminding him time was running out.

The minute of time that he had to press the button would be finished and the buzzer would sound. It would then be time for someone else to have a go at the wheel.

He was not going to lose, he thought. He was going to hit the jackpot. He strained his eyes and tried to make out the amounts but, the harder he focussed, the more he tried to follow the spinning so he could lock on the numbers, the more he realised it was not going to be possible to discern a single digit.

The disk was spinning too fast for that to be possible.

In that instance, he felt strongly that his very life depended on the outcome of the aftermath of his pressing the button. He just had to do it right otherwise everything else in his life would go awry. He could not afford to lose. There would be no life for him if he failed to win a big amount here tonight.

Then, looking up at the clock, he realized he had but a few seconds of time left. There was nothing left to do but just take his chances and press the button but then, to his dismay, with a realisation he did not have the courage to put it all to chance, he realised he had lost control of his body. He wanted to press the button but his fingers were not responding. He could not control them anymore.

He heard the buzzer and a disappointed chant go up in the audience. The game show host moved towards him and reached for the switch in his hands.

But, instead of inching forwards and handing her the switch, he found himself backing away and snarling at her.

Something within his person told him he had not just lost control of his physical being, but his actions and thoughts as well. Then he felt himself tighten his grip on the switch while telling himself it was not over yet. He could still win even when the rules would be bent, even when the minute of time he was given had elapsed.

The large disk was still spinning and only he had the power in his hands to stop it. And when he stopped it, he thought, the arrow would point at the highest sum and he would go home a happy man indeed.

It was all he had left to do now, to guarantee him a win. Once he had the disk stopped at the appropriate figure, he had all that was needed to go to the producers and argue his case. He would do all it takes to get them to agree and hand him the cash. He would take them to court if need be, to get them to give him the sum the arrow had pointed at.

But first things first: he had to get the disk to stop at the figure that represented the jackpot.

His sight was getting blurred from the water going into his eyes from the profuse sweat now streaming down his face. He felt faint then lowered his gaze because he felt dizzy. As he reached into his pocket for the handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face, he realised the game show host had taken hold of his fist and was trying to pry the switch from his hands.

He grabbed hold of her arm with his free hand, wrenched her grasp off of his fist then, planting his feet wide so he put his weight into it, he yanked her backwards, sending her sprawling off the stage to his side.

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face dry then resumed his position and motions in front of the disk.

The producer gave the command to cut the shooting and members of the camera crew and some of the audience rushed onto the stage to see what they could do to help. Soon, there was mayhem on the stage as men fought to take the switch out of the man's hands and the man off the stage.

With men holding him from the back while others handled him from the front, his hand still retaining a vice-like grip on the switch, they tugged on the disk and toppled it on its stand.

There was a halt in activities on the stage as all stopped to watch the large disk fall. The centrepiece of the show went crashing down as it spun, fragmenting into several pieces as it hit the floor. There was now no question as to whether the show would continue that night, for anybody involved.

It was all over.

With nothing left to fight for, the man stopped resisting and was finally, easily restrained. The police were called to take him into their custody.

They arrived at the scene and when told what had happened that night, they did not hesitate to cuff the man but, instead of heading for the police station, they took him strait to a mental asylum.

It was beyond clear that the man belonged in a padded cell.

World War 3

Artistic depiction of an alien life form

Would not be surprised if Hollywood has not already gone there, and would not be surprised if this was a real life scenario and the Rothschilds were one of those who refused to be x-rayed. The text below is a synopsis of a sci-fi novel I am working on right now. Room for improvement of both the synopsis and idea and please do not nick ... work with me if you think it is worth it.

*********************************

An alien life form lands on planet earth from a distant galaxy. It is an advanced life form, much more intelligent than human beings in a lot of ways. It possesses the capacity to pass through matter.

Useless to manipulate matter on earth largely due to the composition that allows it to pass through it, it requires to possess an earth animal to be able to manipulate matter on earth. The procedure to complete possession starts with replacing the possessed creature's control center, the brain, at a sub-atomic level. The creature initially precipitates cell growth within the possessed animal in a similar manner retro-viruses hijack the body's own reproductive machinery.

How viruses kill cells

The old cells die and they are replaced with new, alien cells that are still prone to attack by the immune system because they do not comply fully with what it doesn't consider alien.

The solution: weaken the body with poisons so that it doesn't put up as much of a fight via the immune system but fights a losing battle. The point of making the body produce alien cells to replace its cells and eventually replace every human cell in the body with alien cells so that the aliens take over and control the being fully has to prevail.

After the first successful takeovers of a mammal, the aliens decide to restrict possessions to the creature with a thumb they observe is much more able to manipulate its environment because this would allow them to do much more on earth.

They select the most powerful people in the most powerful nations as the quickest route to taking over the planet.

But there is a problem. The beings with thumbs (humans) have developed medications they can use to make their immune systems hard to inundate. But the aliens soon learn to sort this out by using the existent technological know-how to that end. It is cumbersome to start with but they soon start improving it by leaps and bounds by possessing more and more scientists to use to work on improving human technology.

Chemtrails over New York

Soon, they are able to mix the compounds they use in chemtrails and other clever channels they develop to deliver poisons and pathogenes that keep the human species perpetually doused and too weak to fight the internal biological and mental war. The aliens discover as they seek better ways of weakening mind and body that earthly ionising radiation is their worst enemy without a counterpart on their own planet, but non-ionising radiation destroys the tissue of the possessed's body but does not affect alien life form cells.

Thus starts the search for the better kinetic or directed energy weapon to keep the brighter members of human societies in line.

Then, the aliens discover it is possible to completely shut the immune system down and manage infections artificially and, with this, are well on their way to taking over entire continents in less time than it would otherwise have taken until one man, already possessed in part of his brains, and assailed with kinetic weapons, has an accident in which he fractures his skull. As he is x-rayed, he sees a bright flash in one eye and then has feelings of a re- awakening or rebirth.

Evidence from the resemblance of deaths of those on ARV's to the black death or death by cytokin storm suggests ARV's shut the immune system down while, as part of the treatment package, infections are dealt with artificially

As the days pass on into the future, he experiences intellectual growth that seems like re-growth and realises his brain cells are mending. He has heard of the conspiracies in which aliens feature and gradually easily connects the flash event he had as ionizing radiation coursed through him during the x-ray to the destruction of the alien entity and cells that had grown in his body.

Ionizing radiation kills the alien in the body, he concludes, and spreads the word.

Thus starts a war to eradicate the aliens that first knows a phase when governments ask every citizen to have an all body x-ray done on them, to the point when humankind splits in half, one side those who refuse to be x-rayed, and the other the real humans who have destroyed the last vestige of alien matter within their bodies.

These are the warring parties in WWIII.

A Few Good Reasons to Resist the Globalist Agenda to the End.

Globalisation is defined as the process by which the experience of everyday life, marked by the diffusion of commodities and ideas, is becoming standardised around the world.

A Globalist is a proponent of the extreme variant of Globalisation often called Globalism, a process that sees the dominant culture or capitalism, defined as an economic system dominant in the western world since the break up of feudalism in which most of the means of production are privately owned and production is guided and income distributed largely through the operation of markets - that in actual fact is advanced "mercantilism" if one looks at similar to same life standards of citizens living in countries with different productive capacities - taking advantage of (manipulating) wireless and internet communication and electronic business transactions to destroy local traditions and regional distinctions in order to force through a homogenised world culture.

One is reminded here of Huntington's thesis in his book "The Clash of Civilisations", central to which is the assumption the post-cold war world will regroup into regional alliances based on religious beliefs and historical attachments to various "civilisations". Huntington identified three dominant groupings: western Christianity, (Catholicism and Protestantism), Orthodox Christianity (Russian and Greek), and Islam, with additional influences from Hinduism and Cofusianism. He predicted that the progress of globalisation would be severely constrained by religio-political barriers resulting in a multi-polar world.

Huntington's book

The fact our current world is marked by a zeal within the dominant culture to prevent the scenario Huntington envisions from manifesting suggests globalists have taken the prognostication in his thesis as a reverse blueprint for the creation of a homogenised culture, the catch being that it will be a unified world with the globalists (western elite) as the leaders. This is what is clear to see especially about the highly politicized post 9/11 world. Observe how the globalists have launched a full fledged war on those cultures (civilisations) they consider hindrances to the culmination of globalisation into a united world.

People who see the troubles a multi-polar world potentially brings, a variant of which we currently are living in if we consider nationalism, including negative competition between nations or blocks or even outright war between these, you may see nothing but good in the idea of a unified world and may even find in this the justification for current artificially created human tragedies for its creation.

The means being used to get there that are seeing millions murdered by rogue, instant armies, become sacrifices worth the one world utopia that will result in the end, right? And you would be forgiven for thinking the people responsible for all that is going wrong in other people's lives on a worldwide scale are in fact the good guys and their way of doing things is the only available option, considering the odds of a world such as ours. It has in fact been noted already that even those who defend good systems, systems that stand for human rights and want the best unto every man, may find they have to resort to under-handed, inhumane methods to protect a humane system.

But there is something about this conviction that brings it in line with a stockholm syndrome of sorts when several glaring factors about the globalists and the manner they are going about actualizing a one world utopia are reviewed.

In fact, if we have all been observant, what is apparently wrong with the globalist movement can be summed up in a very few words.

With their kind at the helm, we are headed for a one world totalitarian regime led by paedophiles inclined to under-develop countries, douse populations in bio-chemical poisons so that they are easier to control, cull, or commit genocide, who appear to be in anything that results in the blood of innocents being spilt for the spoils.

It is very clear by now they never are into any activity for the good of all, but their own selves or select bloodlines. One defining factor to take good note of is they have never and will not come out in the open and announce their agenda by first defending any of the wrongs they did or continue to do as necessary for the end goal of bettering the lot of humankind by allowing it to arrive, without hindrance, at a homogenized culture state when it will be easy to usher in a one world government.

They went to Afghanistan and Iraq and, once done with whatever else they went there for apart from the spoils, they left the countries in a shambles and have yet to tell the world the good that the destruction of these countries does our march for a homogenized culture save lies about how much better things are there than they were before. Accounts by locals living in these countries once not part of some documentary always reveal the lie.

They went to Libya preaching freedom for a folk under oppressive rule assuring all their actions amounted to making the world safe for democracy but left with the country destroyed. They caused the deaths of close to 3 thousand people in New York and if asked to justify all this in the context of a one world government eventuality they did it for, they would not dare come out and open their mouths about it.

Image of the aftermath of jets crashing into the twin towers in New York on September 11 2001

And you can add thousands more things they did and continue to do that just don't speak of a group who are in it for the uplift of the species, a group that can boast any kind of intelligent master plan for humankind, or, when their track record of gratuitous deeds is considered, any kind of intelligence for that matter. You would in fact be forgiven for considering this group an alien species for the disregard they show for the health and viability of the human species, as indeed the health of the habitat we share in common. It may just be the case that they do not care because they have a planet to return to, but then they do not, so, what is wrong with them?

There is a lot that is awry with this lot and the word "stultified" does come to mind here.

The nationalistic, polarised world we have right now has in fact been a check on their excesses by bettering how people in the grips of the ravages the globalists bring have fared in the end for, the question can be asked: what would have become of Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, Syria and many others who were attacked militarily by the west, whether directly or by their terrorists, had other interests not intervened and helped the victims somewhat? The answer to that is obvious.

The worst fate imaginable.

What would have become of the third world had there been no alternatives to self defense or developmental tools, ideas and remedies had the west been the only power around? We would be talking a similar tale as that of the North American Indians in most probability, or something similar.

The fact of this matter is this, that what would have become of their various victims is what will become of all of us once the globalist cabal succeed in their conniving and take over the world. Then, with nothing to hold them in check, we as a species can be assured our worst nightmare of the states we can sink to will come true.

The Habit Responsible For the Fact I am Still Alive and Kicking

Attacks to my heart constitute the heaviest attacks I am currently getting at night. My heart region is struck with high power directed energies for hours on end and it is only because of the shields I insist on wearing when I go to bed that I can stay in life. It looks like they want to go for the "died of a heart attack" scenario that has become a common cause of death of top activists.

This is interesting and meant for those of you who still doubt a grown man's words or, worse still, think the strange nature of the things I say is indicative of a mental issue. Those of you who know it is real should also read this as there is information contained in the piece that you will find useful.

Two nights ago, I was woken up in the middle of the night with my heart thumping, throbbing. Thought I was having a heart attack and, knowing the program I am under, I knew THEY (by this I mean the globalist western elite's hired killers using kinetic or directed energy weapons on board either drones or satellites) were behind what was happening.

As I have mentioned elsewhere before, I go to bed with the top of my torso clad in a conducting layer and I have reason to believe I would not be alive today had it not been for this habit.

Metal armour worn around the torso in the western middle ages by knights to shield them from projectiles in the heat of battle ... similar to the armour I wear in bed or under my clothes while out and about

The near heart attack I experienced that night suggests the shield is no longer working. Obviously, they have increased fire power or brought in a better device with improved capabilities.

Now, I understand you will be sitting there going "just make an appointment with a physician and get your heart checked before you get a real heart attack", but wait for it ...

I got up out of bed, out of balance and breath, chest throbbing. As soon as I was upright, I started feeling relief and, soon, the pace at which my heart was beating went down to normal. The only option I thought I had was to increase the layers of protection otherwise I would not see the light of day unless I stayed upright all night and did not fall asleep.

I know from experience that THEY have the technology to force sleep. Thinking I could beat that technology and stay awake till the break of dawn was foolish, so I went to work with available materials to increase the layers of my shield. I realised I was going to need more material than I had in the home to be secure I would not be hit in the heart again because, if I stretched what was available around my torso, it would be too thin. So I decided I was only going to cover the part where the heart was located which is the left front and side of my chest.

I went back to sleep like this, making a mental note to remain sleeping on my back for the duration, with fingers crossed and, joy joy, I woke up in the morning. I got to see a new day and it seemed from the energy in my 3 km walk later in the afternoon that there was nothing to worry about the state of my heart.

Coincidence or maybe there is something I missed? Read further to find out.

The night came again and I put the sleeping shield on and got into bed. I had not had the time to find extra metal so that I covered the remaining areas, allowing me to turn in my sleep therefore, just as had been the case the previous night, the mental note was to sleep on my back, with a slight twist to the right, till morning.

My body must have later on disobeyed this directive because I turned and slept on my front. I woke up to severe pain in the heart region with the heart beating like it was about to burst. The pain I felt extended to the back indicating the entry trajectory. There was also this loud blaring sound in my ear that I am used to every night except it was louder than usual.

I turned back into the safe position and immediately experienced relief. My heart settled back into a normal beat and I noticed that the blaring sound went off.

This is when the idea came to me to check something about this sound.

I waited for some time, listening for the sound, and when I was sure it had not turned on for at least thirty minutes, I deliberately turned and lay on my chest and, almost immediately, the sound came back on again. I stayed put as the two tone whistle blared in my ear and, of course, I turned back to lie on my back when my heart beat started rising ... and all went back to normal.

The sound has been going on for the past +-5 years and I always knew it was not an ultrasound, but the effect of a microwave hitting the eardrums (note: there is a scientific name for that and it is NOT "tinnitus"). Apart from that, I did not know what the frequency was used for. I took it that because it usually started when I was behind shields, it was used to see me behind this cover.

Only the previous night did it dawn on me that they were using something else to see me behind the cover of shields and the sound indicated an actual attack to the upper body region in progress.

I discern attacks to my lower extremity but never hear the sound at such moments, meaning only when the attack is near the eardrums does the sound register. This also suggests those moments when I feel an attack to my lower extremity and hear the sound as well may just indicate either a very high attack intensity or two beams focussed on my body at once.

What this says about my perceptions is that they are spot on and my measures to protect self from harm are doing something in that direction. It cannot be doubted after all this is considered that I am right to say I owe the fact I am still alive to this habit.

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.

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.

Taliban Tunnels and Why They are a Must if you are on the list of the US's Hgh Profile Targets

Ronald Reagan meets Afghan Mujahideen Commanders at the White House in 1985

The Taliban and the United states elite were once upon a time bed fellows or the best of mates, of sorts, so how, you may ask, did it come to the point where the US found it necesary to drop the mother of all bombs on their hideout?

They fell out, period. It's that simple.

The Taliban does not comprise burrowing mamals and here again, you might wonder why they took to life in tunnels dug into the ground? Again, the answer is simple. In a world where no part of the sky doesn't have a spy satellite hovering menacingly about, with hi-tech gadgets that can see through almost anything, tunnels dug deep into the ground are the best way of evading their prying eyes, and there's more.

Tunnels are a way of ensuring one does not just prevent being seen on a screen connected to an apparatus that can see through a wall or roof, avoiding being visible for the sake of it, but, once built properly, they can prevent those with the technology from using it to know the exact whereabouts of the person or persons they are looking for.

Depending on how intricately built a system of tunnels are, well thought out and formidable attempts to force one's way through the defences to the one being defended, the leader, can be foiled, otherwise the one being sought is allowed the time required to escape, using an exit that leads through another series of tunnels not under attack. They can thus, allow a fugitive to evade capture and if intelligence within the tunnels is good enough, it is possible to know the parts that are still safe to remain in right away.

Vietnamese tunnels during the Vietnam War

The areas can be certified safe because they are as of yet unknown or, by calculating the amount of time and effort in manpower and armament it took the intruders to reach a certain point in the tunnel system, some areas can be certified safe because they will allow the fugitive ample time to make it to safety if an intrusion appears headed that way.

But there is another thing that these tunnels do apart from just give the safe feeling to those who choose to dig them and hide away in them. This reality is best seen in one of the most common means of control that those who rule apply on those they rule, which is poisoning.

The fact they will go to extreme lengths to get poisons into the food chain of the poor tells us it is a very effective method of keeping them in chains, and the reason for this is in how poisons affect animal life.

Chemtrails over the skies of London UK

You see, even though there is no single time in life that any man will be 100% healthy, there is such a thing as optimum health. There is a big difference between how a man with optimum health copes in his environment compared to another whose system is inundated with poisons. Not only can poisonous substances adversely affect the functioning of the reasoning capacities of the poisoned, but they also drain the system of resources given the body engages in an effort to neutralize and evict the alien substances.

People being poisoned will as such find it harder to see their way out of the confines of poverty and any other kind of problematic situation compared to people who are not being poisoned. They will tend to be less inventive because their minds are not working as good, and being inventive is a must for one looking for gimmicks out of a bad situation.

How does this connect to the issue of the Taliban in tunnels? Well, it is not all technologies on prying satellites that only function to spot people hiding behind walls. Some of them, especially the microwave variant, and here we are speaking specific, highly penetrative frequencies, can be used to destroy tissue. In this, they can have the very same effect on the speculative capacities of an individual as poisons.

Artistic impression of a satellite firing a mcrowave laser also called Kinetic Weaponry

Picture yourself going to bed an intelligent being then waking up the next morning an utter idiot. This is what the US would want to happen to you as it makes controlling you easier. This is what spending nights deep underground prevents from happening to you.

Saying "good night" to their pals while deep underground, the Taliban are assured a good night's sleep, and they can wake up the next morning bright, as bright as ever, and you know they are going to add bright to everything they do as they go about their no good deeds. With the vinear of bright added to them, these deeds stand a better chance of making a difference now or later, no?

This, the US doesn't want. It wants to see the Taliban become such fools they will perpetually shoot self in the foot till they are no more.

Detonation of the "Mother of all Bombs" in Afghanistan last week

But then you may ask what dropping the mother of all bombs on an area known to have tunnels dug deep into the earth does that changes things. Why not just beg the Taliban to stick their knecks out so they can be hacked at?

Is is just a matter of pride on the part of the agressor super power?

It would appear from the resolve to use the biggest bomb in their arsenal that the tunnels in question have been dug really, really deep into the ground. The big bomb, then, is the only thing that stands a chance of destroying the system of tunnels by sheer use of the physics of force. The shock waves generated have to be enough to reach as deep into the ground as is needed to destroy the tunnels completely, or at least make them as unusable as will require more effort than can be summoned to rebuild.

But then how do we, the bystanders, get to know whether the effort was a success? The Taliban are not going to tell us, and if you followed the story of how one Osama Bin Laden got his head blasted then the remains dropped into the Indian Ocean because his killers thought his family members will freak out at the sight of the head and there will be no body viewing, and the US of A will get sued silly for allowing the mercenaries to target practice on poor Osama's head, never mind he was already dead when they were getting their balls off, then you know the US will also not tell us anything of use to this end, otherwise what they will divulge will be utter falsehood.

Best to just wait it out in your own personal tunnel and hope good news is all there is to expect to come from Afghanistan.

How Dead Doves Proved My Fears Right

A dead dove
 
Back in 1999, I spent 6 months writing a book I was sure would be a winner once complete. I told some of my friends that I was writing, without giving details of what it really was about.

Someone must have told somebody else till the wrong people came to know because, out of the blues, I started coming across one too many people eager to divulge the finer details of my work. As I walked through the streets, I heard strangers make remarks when I was within earshot that spoke of the stage I had reached in the story I was writing.

Those following the developments of my story closely, who took every opportunity to have me know they knew how far I had progressed with my work were obviously using under handed methods to know what was going on in the privacy of my home. I figured the only way they could have been privy to the finer details of an idea that was not digital yet, an idea being developed behind closed doors, was through break ins when nobody was around.

I started working on securing my home from such break ins, taking care to ensure not a single window frame was not so bolted it could not be removed, and where this was not possible I placed tape or whatever material I found suitable, in crucial spaces and places, then after making sure an intruder who went to the extent of dismantling the entire door with frame to enter the home (this is done sometimes) would disturb these pieces, I took pictures of the items and checked each time I returned home if there were changes.
I started doing the same at the entrance to the home. I chained the inside then placed a padlock on the chain that had to be bypassed to gain entry. I taped the padlock's keyhole over after locking it, including areas I knew objects could be inserted to force them open and, given patterns formed during the taping process that were different each time around, I took pictures of this and would check upon return whether there had been any changes which would indicate entry.

Soon hereafter, updates on the status of my story by total strangers on the streets stopped.
As soon as I satisfied myself that the project was finished, I printed it out then sent the manuscript to a publisher.

Very early the next morning I was woken up by loud noises outside my door. Before I could get up out of my bed, my door had been broken down and large, tall Dutch police officers stood in my flat reading me my rights.

They had come to arrest me for outstanding traffic violation offences even when they were already being handled by a lawyer who had assured me there was no risk of arrest as long as the procedure he had started was not concluded.

Had he lied to me? Had he betrayed me?

I was taken to a prison facility in the north of the country, in Groningen, where I was placed in a single cell with lou, a coffee machine and a telly.

The inside of Veenhuizen prison where I spent 5 months on a starvation ration before being transferred to another prison in the middle of the country
 
I settled into this new arrangement and immediately focussed my day to day efforts on getting out as soon as I could. I lived in rented accommodation and I had to see to it that arrangements were made to pay the rent otherwise I risked losing property.

We were locked up most of the time and I spent most of this time reading or watching television. One day, while tuned to a local Dutch channel, I watched an African author answering questions the host asked about a book he had just published.

When asked to give a few details about the book, I was dismayed to discover it was the same as my idea, to the very last detail. It is impossible that two Africans living in two different places had both written novels in four parts or four stories following the lives of men and women who lived through the slave trade, through successive generations into the present. I could not understand what was going on because for all intents and purposes, the African on the telly was not the author of the book under consideration. I was the author of that book and I was in prison while my intellectual property was getting usurped.

Was this the reason they had locked me up? So they could steal my work?

I tried to look at this from every angle I could but only this appeared to be the explanation of the timing of my arrest.

I surmised they had also feared the aftermath in which I would be empowered by the monies that my creation would generate, and, as people who had set it upon themselves to destroy my life covertly, the likelihood I would escape their evil clutches would be increased.

The decision to take away my liberty had been made way before I had completed what I had set about doing. They just waited for me to finish it before stepping in and putting the plan into effect.

I realised with this that the prison I had been sent to may have been prepared for my arrival. The possibility some guards and inmates were aware of the plan and there for me could not be discounted.
And I became afraid for my life.

From that day onwards, I spent long periods without food, afraid they would decide to take me out by poisoning. In the particular prison, food was usually brought in with the inmate's name on the tray. It was easy as such to deliver a ready made cocktail to a particular recipient.

I realised the worst I could do was make them aware I was not eating the hot meals brought to me because then they would change their attack strategy. I started flushing the food down the toilet. The cell window opened enough for chunks of food to also be thrown out. No need to worry because there were doves that sat on the wall fence that went round this side of the prison to eat it right away.

And so I starved myself, the only time I ate something being when cold meals were served. These foods came in plastic containers and were picked from a pile of packets on a trolley. None of the packages had a name on them. Chances a contaminated item would have been reserved for one inmate and delivered with accuracy were slim given the cold meals came in assortments and we, the prisoners, chose what we wanted, but even here I realised it would be wise to take care and avoid being predictable.

Cold meals comprised a half loaf of bread with some cheese, butter, a tin of beef, tinned fish or something else to eat the bread with, otherwise it was cold meals of rice, spaghetti or potatoes with one or other sauce carbohydrates and starches are consumed with, in supermarket packaging.

I continued like this for months, only getting a chance to gorge myself when we got our little pay for the work we did in the prison and were allowed to buy food in the prison's shop.

But even with the availability of the option to buy extra food in the prison shop, I would have lost a lot of weight had it not been for the fact guys who didn't like certain foods announced this and gave the food to others rather than threw it away. This was how I got that extra amount of food as neared the minimum that a man needed to consume per day.

Many a time in that prison I found myself wondering whether I was doing the right thing, especially at times when I was very hungry. I wondered whether I hadn't simply lost my mind, until one night, I heard feet rushing to and fro in the small yard between our windows and the wall fence.

Looking out, I noticed guards rushing to and fro between the brush and flowers that grew there, picking up what looked like dead birds, dead doves they were, and many, at that.

But how had so many died in one spot, at a single time.

I remembered that I had thrown food out the window that afternoon and if anything could get that many birds dead at one time, then it was poison, and the only source of that could have been my food.

There weren't that many prisoners with the habit of throwing food out the small gap in the window and, because we could all see the place the food fell to, I knew that I had been the only one who had thrown food out that afternoon. I was in fact the one who threw the most food out the window.

The haste with which the guards dashed to and fro to pick the birds spoke volumes of what had transpired there that day, and if the intention had been to clear the evidence before prisoners saw it then they failed because they did not know how audible their boots had been in our cells.

It was something about the design of the buildings that the sounds of feet on the turf outside the windows carried very far.

The next day as we all went out to get our daily ration of an hour of fresh air, no mention was made by any prisoner of the incident behind our cells the previous night. It was not discussed or even hinted at in any of the conversations I heard between prisoners.

I wondered whether I had been the only one who had seen the event but then again that was impossible. It happened way before the time most people are asleep and the boots had made such a noise nobody could have avoided looking out to see what the commotion was about.

Other than that, I noticed a difference between how prisoners normally behaved and the behaviour that day that suggested they knew, they had seen it. It was in the pace of their walk, how they turned their heads, the look in their eyes, in the way we looked at each other.

There was intense fear in some eyes, and in others you saw rage, while others showed sorrow. And there was more silence and solitude that day than any other I remembered.

I spent the rest of the hour we were allowed to get air in the prison ground trying to see in those eyes if some were aware that I had thrown food out the previous afternoon, whether some knew it was my food that had most probably poisoned the birds. And sometimes, I thought I did, but then again there was no way of being sure.

The one thing I became sure about is the fact I had been right all along. This place, this prison was a booby trap. Some people with power in Dutch society had planned to make the environment the last thing that I saw. I knew right there and then that walking out of the place alive was going to be a tough thing to do.