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.
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