Man thinks 'cause he rules the Earth, he can do with it as he please And if things don't change soon, he will Oh, man has invented his doom First step was touching the moon Now, there's a woman on my block She just sit there as the night grows still She say who, gonna take away his license to kill? Now, they take him, and they teach him, and they groom him for life And they set him, on a path where he's bound to get ill Then they bury him with stars Sell his body like they do used cars Now, there's a woman on my block She just sit there facin' the hill She say who gonna take away his license to kill? Now he's hell-bent for destruction, he's afraid and confused And his brain has been mismanaged with great skill And all he believes are his eyes And his eyes, they just tell him lies But there's a woman on my block Sitting there in a cold chill She say who gonna take away his license to kill?
Bob Dylan, "License to Kill", the later years (1983)
I write Java Software often. Rather, I need to say that I transcribe Java - meaning that I have an extremely strong suspicion that the code I write I see inside my eye-sockets, inside my brain, before I've typed it. It would be apropos to say it feels like I'm dragged around the Internet all day long with electronic fishing hooks shoved into my eye-sockets. Do you know what a real bastard does in the United States of America? He brags about his crimes. He brags about his crimes to his victims regularly... He finds uncanny, complicated and masterfully thought-out ways to brag about the cruelty and the crime that he commits on a daily basis. He does it in ways that make discussing the attacks and manipulative behavior difficult and impossible to talk about with other people in society.
The content of what we hear is designed, before all else, to make you mute regarding anything about the power and authority in the U.S. (or anything actually important at all!)
So I was at work today, for about 8 hours. The library building where I go is directly in front of the Dallas City Hall Building, and there is a giant two-story window directly in front of me. Today, is June 29th, 2022. A few days ago The Internet was screaming that the Abortion Case was overturned. There were throngs of women out front yelling and screaming about "their bodies, and there rights." It seems fake as hell to me. Nobody out there is singing my tune; nobody out there is talking about me or my immediate families body-invasive government abuse of power! I like to tell people I cannot prove things about mind-control. I like to say it for a lot of reasons, and right now what 'they' are bringing up is my total lack of access to X-Ray Equipment.
Well, I have mentioned before that I got to talk to Bob Dylan before in my life. I believe it happened twice in my life, although the first time was when I was just a few months shy of 16 years old. During the Spring of my 10th Grade year of High School, it was 1991, and "The Allies" were on TV for about 6 months bombing Baghdad with the entire Associated Press calling them heroes and liberators. I knew perfectly well, that anything about fighting in the Persian Gulf was being driven by "The Nightmare" which I liked to call "The Terrorist State of Virginia." Fear ruled a lot of America, and filming U.S. Military Tanks open fire on The Auditorium of J.J. Pearce High School in Richardson, Texas is the type of school massacre that was never permitted on CNN by the National News Crews.
This is the main front entrance to my High School (today), and just to the left is a Giant Auditorium that was actually built the year I went to Pearce. Inside of 12 months (or maybe 24 months), this newly-constructed auditorium was being blown to bits by U.S. Military Armored Divisions. The Football Field had Anti-Aircraft Guns on it my senior year. (A lot of teachers and kids were killed there in the 1980's & 1990's). Not many people my age have High School Educations because of it.
So... Bob Dylan did show up to give a talk to our World History Class - it was part of one of Washington D.C.'s attempts to drum up support for their government regime (which many people hated). Dick Cheney was also there that semester to give a talk to our school. I remember these "incidents" sort of well now; although if you had asked me five years ago if I had ever met a famous Musician, or the Secretary of Defense, I would have likely walked away laughing to myself. A long time ago, when I was capable of thinking about stuff, I would use my brain to write a lot of things down.
Regardless of what I may or may not have written down in a spiral notebook 35 years ago, I don't have such notes today. I know with all my heart I would have likely asked both of them quite a number of questions. I did make a trip to the CD & Record Store before Mr. Dylan's visit - and I actually remember the meetup using more than just "The Electronic Part of My Brain" - meaning "The Biological Part" (a.k.a. "Me") also remembers buying some CD's so I could play them in front of Messr. Dylan in class when he gave his talk. Do you know why? Because these Fuck-Face Son's a Bitches stole my High School Workbooks and saved their contents on their computers! One of their favorite Software Program's to use is the one where they terrorize me with my own personal stories and writings!
Now, I know that I would have asked the man some questions in class that day. I definitely remember the armed and dangerous Security Personnel that followed him along and opened fire in my school. From what I remember, Bob Dylan was hopeless scared and embarrassed by the whole incident (shooting kids), but as a trapped musician in a Nation being terrorized by U.S. Infantry and Security Personnel, there wasn't much he could do about it.
I was 15 at the time, and knew all about music, but not really enough (yet) to talk for more than 15 minutes in class that day. My dad, on the other hand, ended up speaking to the man for several hours that night. Now, here, today it is June of 2022, and I'm talking about a little incident that occurred in 1991, like it was yesterday. I'm not 15 years old, anymore, I'm 47. The name of the girl that was killed at my High School that day was 'Cerese Burnett.' I could go to the local library right now, and show you her picture, since she was in the Yearbooks there (they have them). And although Bob Dylan did spend some time talking to my dad about his career and his life - and especially about the incident with Cerese (who was killed) that day, the whole entire episode couldn't have lasted more than 12 hours (absolute maximum).
- School started at 8:15 A.M.
- The guest speaker at our World History Class arrived around 9:00 A.M.
- I think I stayed until 10 or 10:30
- Later that evening (because of the ensuing ruckus), Messr. Dylan drove by and talked to my Dad that night
Bam! That's a maximum of 12 hours of before the entire thing was over that day. I try to go to work five days a week to either write or work on developing my software. Beginning around March of this year (2022), I was laying in my bed one morning, hearing and seeing my High School from when I was young kid of Age 16 asking questions about Louis XIV (le Roi Soleil). My eye-socket chips are blaring out famous songs into my skull (With God on Our Side - YT-Link, or One too many Mornings - YT-Link)
I like these songs; I don't like being forced to listen to them whenever a Government-Rape Regime decides I must listen to them. So, and here is the point. Not only do I not like hearing this Regime's "interpretation" of what Bob Dylan would have said to me or to my dad 30 years ago, I like even less being distracted all day long preventing me from pursuing anything in life that I would want to.
Dylan may have spent up to 5 or 6 hours talking to my dad that night (since he was a big fan of his from the 1960's). What he did not do was move into our house here in Texas and talk to him about his career for four months.
But for several hours a week, sometimes several hours a day, I will sit here in my bed or my easy-chair, or even at work listening to pre-recorded speech of my dad speaking to Messr. Dylan. My Dad is not even alive anymore. He died the year that "The Trump Piece of Shit" ran for office (2016). I say he was killed by the machines inside him, as the government destroyed his mind with these electrical implants, and they didn't want to hear anything about that evil fuck-head (Donald Trump) from my dad. When I tell you that the goal of hypno-programming is to prevent you from saying anything of real substance, this is a text-book example of how they work. I think it's nice that my dad had a conversation about security and violence in this country back when violence ruled the streets. I think it's good that he talked to a famous man about Cerise Burnett that day, and he was very sorry, and that he had no control of a radicalized, blood drenched, and out-of-control army (my words, not anyone else's).
But that was 30 years ago, and yet today (2022), while there were throngs of screaming women out front of Dallas City Hall, yelling about their bodies because of the 'Overturning of Roe V. Wade', I am being subjugated by own past from my own High School Journals - unable to think my own thoughts about today! Unable to read or write anything other than exactly what 'they' want me to say!
And this is what it feels like to try and write Computer-Software. Today, while thinking about writing something about the topic of Bob-Dylan, with that vacant stare coming out of my eyes, face and expression, I got to edit my HTML Library. I didn't show up at the library intending to do any one thing in particular, but with the repeated and incessant Bio-Electric Misery Engine that is inside my body, I don't ever happen to have the opportunity to make my own decisions. I'm not allowed to make choices about what Software Projects I write. I hear possibilities and suggestions all day long, and when I sit at a keyboard, the Dallas Regime will give me the option of further-developing a Software Feature of their choosing - or walking out of my library and wandering outside until it's time to go to sleep.
This is a Sherman Tank inside of a Museum (first built in the 1940's, during WWII). In the 1980's, these types of "Armored Cavalry" were occasionally seen parking in North Dallas; and even occassionally patrolling around North Dallas. Now, if the evil piece a shit inside and driving these fucking things didn't have any brains (and most did not) - you could also see these things firing on High School; killing teachers, and even children. Such photographs are exactly the kinds of photos that I took when I was a kid. Both of my (concerned) parents did too - but all of them were rounded up by the United States Radicalized Gestapo Departments that formed the mid to late 1990's, in reaction to the violence. "Their" favorite photo to flash inside my eye-sockets is of a giant Howitzer which had blown a hole in my middle school when I was thirteen years old, in 1988.
Before I close this post, I want to say that I can type these words - only with the aid and assistance of the very people who I am actively trying to condemn. I often like to say they are black ("African American") - but I can only see the reflection through these Bio-Electric Devices, and I am never actually able to meet them in person. I don't like living in Dallas, and I would give one of my arms and legs away for the right to live in a free country (not the United States). Below, is a brief description of the other work I did in the library yesterday, and totday.
Syntax Hi-Liting is a computer-programming term that I hear a lot about inside my own body. The amount of importance attached to the whole idea is astronomically blown sky-high by these awful things inside me. Everybody who has ever owned a computer, sort of knows what computer codes look like. Usually, computer codes are a mashed-up looking collection of English Words, along with numbers and all kinds of punctuation symbols like parenthesis, brackets, and even
'>'symbols. Syntax Hi-liting is the following conversion. Below the original plain, ordinary vanilla looking text is marked up to make it colorful:
// Loop Variables LV l = new LV(sPos, ePos, html); TagNode tn; for (int i=l.start; i < l.end; i++) // Only instances of Opening-TagNodes need to be checked - All others should be skipped if ((tn = ((HTMLNode) html.elementAt(i)).openTag()) != null) // AUM.Set does not require the attribute to already exist // **OR** Check for minimum possible str-length to have the attribute at all. if ((mode == AUM.Set) || (tn.str.length() >= (MIN + tn.tok.length()))) // If AUM.update returns a **NEW** (non-null) TagNode, replace the old one. if ((tn = mode.update(tn, innerTag, itValue, quote)) != null)
After a Syntax-HiLiter is finished, it is a lot easier to look at on a web-page, as below:
// Loop Variables LV l = new LV(sPos, ePos, html); TagNode tn; for (int i=l.start; i < l.end; i++) // Only instances of Opening-TagNodes need to be checked - All others should be skipped if ((tn = ((HTMLNode) html.elementAt(i)).openTag()) != null) // AUM.Set does not require the attribute to already exist // **OR** Check for minimum possible str-length to have the attribute at all. if ((mode == AUM.Set) || (tn.str.length() >= (MIN + tn.tok.length // If AUM.update returns a **NEW** (non-null) TagNode, replace the old one. if ((tn = mode.update(tn, innerTag, itValue, quote)) != null)
Now, there are hundreds of ideas that flow through my mind throughout the course of any given day of the week. Keeping any one of them in focus is the challenge that anybody who wants to take his or her life seriously faces with Bio-Electric Government weapons inside their body. I have such a desire to write about being "tricked into" writing Software Developer Tools, by the Human-Trafficking Regime. For me, in year 2015 I was being encouraged to go to a branch of the Dallas Public Library to try and work on reading Mandarin Chinese News Web-Sites. I say "
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