Lyrics Popup

myFunction() { alert("hello!"); }

Sunday, December 19, 2021

The Race War, that really is ALSO in your mind

I like to take walks, and I always have liked them. I have a master, and I live in Dallas. He has been very cruel to me over the course of my life. I have never sat inside of the offices of Brain-Control, but I have lived under the blanket of tyranny - a blanket of evil - since I was a young kid in college. As such, I don't really get to make too many decisions about my future; rather, the only influence I ever have about anything expected of me by them is a fight to shout "No!" This includes the inability to make any decisions about my Java, HTML, CSS programming directions - decisions as basic as "am I going to work on my program today?" Today, for example, NDBC had a little trip to Walmart planned for me, and suggested I buy some canteloupe, grapes, milk, bananas, Kool-Aid-like substance and a Parmesean Cheese. Walking the Walmart aisles, I was able to see the little radio-images broadcast via the electronic portion of my brain; all the while hoping that "The Internet" would make sure to "re-remind" of the same things they had asked me to buy before I left the hotel room where I live.

Sometimes the Dallas Rougue-Government encourages me to write a grocery-list down before leaving, while other times I can be threatened - even terrorized - before leaving to the point where I have a feeling that dictates I must exit my apartment immediately before having a heart attack. I guess I lucked out, today. I say this because I walked to Walmart, bought stuff on the above list, and after I got home - not a single one of the "buzzers" attached to the biological-part of my brain went off insulting me about what I had forgotten to buy due to my own stupidity. On particularly cruel days, I can actually walk to Walmart with a paper grocerly list in my hand and spend an entire hour wondering around listening to "The Internet" confuse me about what I forgot to write down on my list. Most unnerving of all is stuff about whether I am hearing voices because I have "fucking schizophrenia" (which is what the electronic-warfare device is saying to me!) Even worse are notices intentionally confusing me about all of it for no other reason than to get me to waste an entire morning wondering around the fucking place. The Rougue-Government has plenty of security cameras inside walmart connected to the Internet (besides just my brain and my balls), and I'm not always "kept in the loop" about what I'm expected to do each day.

So, I like to take walks, and walking is usually a very good thing for making sure I sleep at night. Activity and exercise are very important to a tortured soul (one of "their" favorite words for me). Yesterday, for instance, I did my 45 minute calesthenics routine outside since my gym-membership was cancelled. Today, though, today was Sunday and after the "A.M. Trip" to buy groceries, I sat on the stupid easy-chair I have, mostly awaiting further orders as the biological part of my brain got to ponder quite a number of options. And that's just what it's like. "I" was sort of thinking about going around and finding some other idiotic part of Dallas to take a bunch of landscape-photos for my web-site. However, "I" was also hoping that perhaps my master would approve my spending the afternoon at the local uptown library to further the Java-Sftware I have for my Chinese News Website. Unfortunately, such decisions by my person are not really tolerated as the element of "suprise!" (today you are going to do X) is usually the preferred way of dealing with disgruntled-individuals with brain implants.

Today, I didn't get to write any software at the library! Instead, NDBC had me take the DART Train into downtown Dallas, instead, to watch the end of the fourth quarter of the Dallas Cowbows - Washington Redskins (or whatever their new name is) on the big Jumbo-tron that was built over a year ago downtown. I sat there for about 15 minutes, and since I am 46 years old, I'm old enough to remember names like "Tom Landry" and even sitting in the old "Texas Stadium" to watch the Cowboys v. Redskins dream match up.

You know, I still want to do more about "writing about writing" so I'm going to skip the whole "Dallas Cowboys Idiocy" because the games can be fixed by the electrical implants inside the bodies of professional sports teams too. I'm not allowed to see the machines that run these games - so the best I could offer is a conspiracy-theory (a theory without evidence presented) about the Rogue-Regime fixing sports games. I don't like "Conspiracy Theories" - I greatly prefer "Conspiracy Evidence." Ayway, as it pertains to controlled-sports, one thing that I can do - while maintaining some level of honesty in my writing - is write about what I hear every day about professional-sports inside my own brain. Aany organized crime outfit that intends to increase its power over a population seems to really find a lot of joy in bragging about their exploits and about their conquests. Yes, I have heard thousands of times that "Tom Brady" is actually a brain-implanted football-player (like me, except with Java Software and Mandarin Chinese). I cannot prove to you that the government has forced teams to loose to the New England Patriots to make Boston was so successful. What I can do, without lying my page, is report that "The Internet" inside me brags that this Rogue-Regime does have the power to do so (fix sports games using hypno-programming) and that they have done so since the George Bush Jr. Administration.

They were named "The Patriots" and that's what brain-control departments love to hear! They are "patriots"!

And now I have to write my lead into the "Race War" component in our minds, and in all the minds of anyone implanted by the United States Terrorist Backed Government. So, continuing with my activities for today, after watching a few minutes of the Dallas Cowboys on the Jumbotron downtown, I came back on the same DART Train that returns from downtown wondering what other adventures "they" (NDBC) might have planned for me for the rest of the evening. Well, nothing! I sat in my easy chair and watched the Thanksgiving Movie that I guess I'm supposed to watch (1987 - Planes, Trains and Automobiles) and dozed off.

And then it was 6:00 P.M. and I decided to take another walk. The woman that lives with me at my home has brain-implants too. She isn't permitted by her "other significant other" (the people at NDBC who run the lives of females) to discuss them at all, and doesn't know how to respond usually.

But, I mentioned a few days ago in my post, that a Dallas Police Officer (a black Dallas Police Officer) had drugged, raped and murdered (and chopped the arm off of...) one of my High School Cheerleader friends 30 years ago. Her name was Kendall Sowers, and she was really pretty, with long blonde hair. She was one of the High School Cheerleaders. I wasn't together with her at the time, since we were both 15 / 16 years old, and that sort of thing just sort of seemed gross. I mean, in 1992, their were video cameras placed inside of bathrooms so that old men (police officers, military) could watch kids inside of bathrooms. Everything felt gross back then. When writing this stuff down, it isn't the most enjoyable thing to try to think through what I want to say, precisely because I have these electronics inside me. But this is what the Broadcast Electronics have spent a week terrorizing me about! An event that is thirty years old! I have neither option nor ability nor power to influence what they say to me, ever!

O.K. So the post said I shot and killed a black police officer when I was 16. I did, and it wasn't even the first person I shot in self-defense. He had also executed a person who I had known since I was 8 years old - literally, while I watched - because I complained about the drug trafficking, rape and violence in my school. For you information, by the way, a shotgun blast at close range will cause you pain. Now, I had had many lessons about such things, and fortunately knew exactly what to do (Morphine, rest, food, water, shower). But to continue trying to "write about writing" while telling these stories, it should be of note, again, that the year 1991 was indeed thirty years ago! I remember these things, because of the Black Dallas Slave Trafficking Software that forces me to 'get remembered' these horrific and violent incidents from some of the United States of America's worst days. I mean, **I** am not really remembering these things, these things are "getting remembered" for me! How terrible is that?

You know, that's what the race war feels like! It's the pride & joy of this Rouge-Government. The Race-War is the Heart, Mind & Spirit of the Dallas Leadership. It's one thing to have shot somebody who needed to die, but to remind people of these tragic events - like eating my Cheerios in the morning, taking a bus to the library to write, and even thinking about my software projects... and killing black-people are all part of a days work!

Who does this? Black people, white-people... lots of people who are all in the business of selling bodies in the city. Selling out our futures and our personal lives. Writing, in order to be successful, needs to have some passion about the whole thing. How can a man whose subject to thought-control warefare have a passion for anything?

I took a walk this evening. Next to my apartment-hotel is an "Ethopia Town." One of the early incidents from the fall/winter of last year that was manufactured for me after moving to my current place, was to get thrown out of a small Ethiopian Store because I had a cold soda in my hand, and it dripped. I was genuinely interested to see foreign-trinkets from Africa, and the black guy there took one look at me and began shouting at me until I left. I am white, and the past two years have seen a tremendous rise by "The Matrix" powers in forcing me to fight with them.

Tonight, I got to see (and hear about) this really neat thing "they" have done. The hamburger store that was arranged right in the middle of the "Ethiopia Town" next to my place apparently has white-management. I looked inside and saw a sea of whites sitting in a room. It's a sight rarely seen in a place llike Dallas. Next door was the African Place, and the room was filled to the brim with blacks. Why do I have to hear about this? I am not interested in hearing about this in my bed while I sleep at night! I have implants in my skull, and this the type of topic that is so totally unrelated to my own personal life that it makes me sick to hear about it. It is next to impossible to analyze things that are two feet in front of me when this is being broadcast.

Saturday, December 11, 2021

The First Time I killed a Dallas Police Officer (because he was a murderous nigger)

An army of cowards, that's the United States Military. When I was younger, I used to think a lot about something called "rhetoric." Being 46 years old, it sometimes seems a little odd that I'm always thinking about what life was like in Dallas when I was a kid. I grew up in a very violent part of the world (The United States, 1980's and 90's). I was born in 1975, actually in San Francisco. I worked very hard in my High School - J.J. Pearce High School in Richardson - despite many murderous attacks by the United States Military on our school. By the time I left Pearce in 1993 about half of my teachers had been murdered. I moved to Boston Massachusetts, to "sign up for Harvard University." I spent most of my 20's in the North East, usually in Boston, but I also worked on Wall Street for about 3 years as well.

So, yeah, I want to continue to "Write about Writing" which is something I mentioned in the last post. I also have to bring up what coming home with bomb-shrapnel in my arm felt like after one particularly rousing day with U.S. Military's Terrorists. But this needs to happen. These thoughts still trouble me, of course. It is not just the nature of the events that are so troubling! It's that the computer broadcasts networks in Dallas are used by "The Regime" to manipulate us and our people by intimidating us through broadcast thoughts about our past.

The first time that I killed a man wearing a Dallas Police Uniform, indeed, was when I was in High School (getting straight A's - I assure you) during the eleventh-grade. I didn't feel bad about it, and I knew I had done the right thing, I had spent two days writing down the reasons, and even talking to my father before hand. I started the eleventh grade in 1991, that's easily proven. I was 16 years old. Now, obviously, things about fighting terrorists and terrorism is much more difficult to prove. In my younger days, I was a part-time photographer, as my parents had given me a camera and they had both been avid photographers themselves. Here, today, in 2021 the micro-chip implants inside my head have many "preferred topics" - but you must remember that the favorite topics of NDBC change at least once a year. As I've said over and over, I was implanted aroud the time I turned 20 while studying at Harvard & MIT (Universities, right next to eachother, in Boston). In 1996, "the murder rate" (a term that was preferred only television - television only, because it never explained much) was still fresh in the hearts and minds of the people. When I was 21 years old, I remember vividly being told horrible things about my parents - over and over again by the radio-wave controlled device inside my skull. They never said anything about the battles that had taken place in my life. The reason nothing was ever mentioned in the broadcasts was mostly because everybody already knew that "a murderer" and "a police officer" were most ofen the same people. There was absolutely no point in explaining a thing about the United States Armed Services, because everybody had seen a friend, co-worder or loved-one killed by the USMC, the NYPD, the Army, etc.

But, keeping this all together, I guess is going to be difficult. On the one hand, it has been thirty years now (in fact, this year marks the thirty year anniversary) - since I walked into J.J. Pearce (after much deliberation) and executed a Dallas Police Officer because of murder, attempted murder, drug trafficking and rape. These are harsh sounding words, and these events are decades ago. He had been palling around with the Director of the Dallas Field Office of the F.B.I., and while high (under the influence of narcotics) and raped one of the 15 year old girls in the school, and literally chopped her arm off after she complained. I mean, the pain and anguish of these incidents has mostly long since faded. Dealing with these types of events took a lot of meditation, deep-thoughts, and mostly a wish to be a good person and an honest person. The biggest issue of all is remembering much about these types of things at all! Here today, Year 2021, there really is a surgically implanted micro-TV inside my skull. In that regard, I am no different than the legions of Dallas Slaves who are brain-washed into working apron-and-name-tag food service jobs. I cannot work such careers for quite a number of reasons, which I will explain one day.

So, I bring all of this up, because here, today - Year 2021 - NDBC has been bringing these events up to me via the implants inside me! That's why! I was never one to hide things about myself much. In fact, I remember the particular incident I'm writing about today very well. After killing the (Black / African-American) Dallas Police Officer with my 57 that had been given to me by another "Security Guy," - afterwards, I hand-cuffed the murderous pig to the school cafeteria door where had been using his drugs. Now, for what, exacltly, would I have done something like that? Well, according to both the biological part of my brain, and, also the electronic portion I had stood up to the two individuals (from DPD, and FBI). They had been coming to our school and making proclamations about tehir desire to do drugs and have sex with the cheerleaders at our school. I won't write the word that I have been listening to, but if you have seen the movie "Braveheart", well, it was one of the proclomations that the King makes in the movie. It wasn't just Kendall Sowers (which is the name of one of the Cheerleaders), they had also fired a shotgun (and killed) another guy I had known since I was in the second grade (Eric Focke, who had changed it to Gulbis).

I took a shot-gun blast to the leg from the nigger, for literally doing nothing more than screaming at a police officer that he had executed a student, in the middle of the class-room for absolutely no reason at all. Nothing at all is what Eric did! The story that the biological-portion of my brain (a.k.a. 'ME') definitely remembers is arguing, taking a giant blast at close range, and then using the power of my words to convince the nigger to calm down and put the gun down as I limped home to my mom's house.

Me, my life, my mind - myself! I wasn't always like this - thinking so much about the violence of my youth. For much of my 20's, Massachusetts Brain Control had largely just been invented! It wasn't so well developed back then, and physical violence was still used in place of psychological violence to control the people. Taking bullets in the stomach, in the arm, etc... up until Year 2001 was often used to intimidate students who "were getting out of line." No, the earlier "versions of" Brain-Control Software Broadcasting Systems didn't harboror "fous on" much of anything particular at all. Today, though, things are different. The Audio and Image Broadcasts - for what is for all intents and purposes is a television inside my skull - like to remind me about "the past" a lot. This isn't because I am enjoying this. This isn't by choice, and sitting around reminiscing - typing about, even - the dark days when The United States was ruled by violence isn't something I choose to do.

No, I'm a political prisoner. I wrote a lot when I was younger, and knew a lot about what ignorant people who "want to be the boss, anyway" despite having any knowledge about the world, or any formal education of any kind were like. Here, in the United States, I'm certaintly not the only person who lives with electronics inside my body. I cannot remove them, because I cannot perform a surgery on myself. The term "Restaurant Mafia" is one 'avenue' of criticism of this new, upstart (and brutal) American Regime. In Dallas, yes, people take slaves, and traffick these slaves though threats, orders, and very cruel condemnations of their person using the audio and image broadcasting receivers inside our bodies. These people, these slave traffickers, occupy many of the office towers that the American's built for us beginning in the 1930's and continuing up until even today.

Point Being: Not everybody in Dallas who lives as electronically manipulated implant people think of themselves as political prisoners. They should, but they don't.

So the previous blog-post, here, was about the bloody-nature of the United States Military during my years as a child. It's true that a sizeable percentage of my teachers at the Richardson Independent School District were killed, many of them by soldiers, long before I ever got into college. But in that previous post I made a strong and concerted effort to elicit and 'explain' how and why this is so important to me. Inside my heart, and inside my mind I don't have any kind wish to right all the wrongs from 25 or 30 years ago. "The dead tell no tales." They don't, and part of the recovery process for society was to let things go. Part of it. Knowing the causes (guns & drugs - of which security personel had ample supply of) is important. Knowing the extent was important if changing American Society was important to you. No, in my previous post I explained that (as a political prisoner) one of the favorite topics of NDBC is to remind me constant - and at odd hours of the day, and irreverent points in my life - all about some of these atrocities. My parents wrote a lot about them, and when I was 15 and 16 years - and old enough to understand them, I did too. Those writings were collected in the 1990's as Mind Control was 'rolled out' in many Urban U.S. City Centers.

No, I don't enjoy talking about my seventh-grade teacher being gored to death by a pack of wild marines on a cocaine trip. They did, and they raped her and had sex with her in front of a room full of 7th grade children. These are facts, and they are not isolated facts, there were more. There were many more. My own mother and father had journals of the stuff (the violence in Texas) before they were rounded up by the military in the 1990's. If the scale of the American Disaster going public beginning with September the 11th has ever appeared 'wide in scope' - it would help the younger generations of this country to know what happened that allowed such catostropic disasters (like 9/11) to happen in the first place. September the 11th didn't happen because of some wild eyed and crazy man far tens of thousands of miles away. I'm not hear to tell you who ordered the attacks, or provide a list of names for you of American Citizens who should be condemned for the attack. Theories are more appropriate in science, technology and math, and aren't so good in writing about bad government. I do have the ability without lying to myself, God, or anyone is that I don't beleive anything that the Associated Press says about the event. I don't have any Conspiracy Theories to provide you. Moreoever, what I know I can do (and still be right with God) is provide a list of names of people that I knew - people in my life (American's in my life!) - who were butchered by U.S. Servicemen in the years before the 9/11.

But why? If thirty years have elapsed since, say for example, my childhood friend "Robbie Stone" who at the age of 8 had his head blown of by a U.S. Military Active Duty Service Member's hand-grenade going off... Why bring it up now? That was 1983. We were both 7 or 8 years old. He lived on my street, and had one of the earliest home-computers. His father "Larry Robertson" worked for Texas Instruments. But this is Year 2021, and the sizeable percentage of the Dallas population that was slaughtered during the invasions of the 1980's did die more than 30 years ago. If things are so much better in Dallas, why bring this up at all? And that's the point. I write about the "New Weapons" of the United States Regime. I write about these weapons because I have been a much more highly valued target by the human-experiment engine.

But that's what I said. Why bring it up now? Remember, who is on first, what's on second, I don't know is on third, and the pitcher' name? Naturally! Aside from the fact that the Dallas ethnic genocide was heavily in-favor of anti-white, not anti-black (and I have white-skin) the black people who run NDBC choose to bring it up. That's what I just said, THEY (the comptrollers of the radio-wave broadcasting systems into my body) bring up my and our pasts. Our youth.

In my previous post I tried to talk about Russian Literature, as a backdrop to the nineteenth century in Europe. Again, the American Experience of the latter half of the twentieth century was surrounded by a back-drop of musicians and record companies. Today, the pieces and remnants of the influence that Rock 'n Roll had on this country are there in web-sites like YouTube and Spotify, the music of the 1960's actually over-turned a major war that was being fought by Washington and the Pentagon. So what does this have to do with nineteenth century Russia? Well, again, unlike te United States, Russia's contributions to the art world and art-history came in the form of writing and novels. Russia never had a Beatles or a Jimi Hendrix, but they had famous writers, which eventually led to a philosophy movement. Writing a good novel that people can enjoy is difficult, and writing philosophy to help "guide the people" takes an even greater backdrop that includes human-concepts like "sanity" and "stability."

Here, in the United States enough citizens have been kidnapped and sugrically implanted for the entire government of the U.S. to be condemned as purporters of human-trafficking, slavery, sex-trafficking and atrocity. These are severe rights violations. Not everyone who lives this god-damned garbage inside of their bodies is subject to the same content that I am subjected.