1050h
I usually stay at the First Feral Family house on Sunday evenings and do garden work or driving for my perp abetting mother in the morning, returning Monday afternoon or evening. But as the weather was closing in, meaning rain for this Monday morning, I left Sunday evening, getting a ride with my in-town brother who was over for Easter dinner, minimally celebrated. More like it was an enlarged First Feral Family gangstalk, going the artifices he contrived to have both his cell phone and the wireless phone in front of him on his wood TV-table. Both are EMF devices, and his cell phone was on the fritz, beeping anytime it felt like it, all by itself.
But what is with his sudden escalation of waving his hands around while talking, in front of his face mostly. My perp-abetting mother suddenly adopted this ridiculous habit when the harassment started in 2002, but my in-town brother hasn't been so consistent. I even asked him aloud why he was waving his hands around all the time, but that didn't stop him.
Othe bullshit on the way back was to drop off his engine oil from his vehicle, having changed the oil earlier in the day. Regular readers will know of the perp's obsession over petroleum products, and that they seem to involve this extensively in their stunts and set ups, e.g. heating oil tankers, gasoline tankers delivering on a Sunday evening for crissakes.
Today is Easter Monday, a half-assed holiday here; government workers are off, no one else it seems. The perps are heavy on outside noise all the same; heavy duty vehicles, bus noise and beepings. The rain didn't stop them either.
Then they dug a 1/8" hole in me while doing the full frontal shave this morning, having skipped this perp inspired regimen while at the First Feral Family house yesterday. That might be why they are extra abusive today, cranking me up with jabbings from nowhere, including one on my dick; no towel or other possible casual object in hand, just a gratuitous whack from the assholes. One never knows when they will stoop this low, but they will. Said hole in my skin was deeper than usual and bled a whole lot more, and it was the most unlike a razor cut of all the hundreds of times they have cut me. None look like a razor cut for that matter. But only one lesion inflicted, not ten or more like they sometimes do.
1150h
And while doing the news troll for the first time in three days, they went beserk with incessant clunking and thumping heard through my earmuffs while reading a forest industry blog. That was my former industry that I worked in for 20 years, and the perps seem to be fishing for something when it comes to that topic. I had my earmuffs on, but that doesn' matter if they want to get a specific noise through with the timing arranged to what I am seeing or reading online.
1545h
A lunch made from scratch, and it is always an event of extra adversity, arranged by the perps/ Crumbs dropping in from nowhere, water slopped onto the countertop by some mysterious means, faked touches, sending me to the wrong cupboard etc., all to crank me up to a rage-ification level. Invariably a loud noise from outside is timed while screaming at the assholes.
And for the past two days while at the First Feral Family house, eating far too many cookies and cakes, I got the usual proliferation of noise from the faux neighbors. It seems that there are no real people living in most of the houses around the FFF house, much like this apartment and all the ones beforehand. The most ridiculous moment wasn't the six or more STRATCOM bombers overhead over the day while outside, but an Dehavilland Turbo Beaver aircraft, no more than 150' above, that was timed to fly past exactly when I picked up the box containing the plastic bags that I had used to put weeds in after sifting the soil from them for three prior hours. These are the same aircraft that do the commute runs from harbor to harbor, Victoria and Vancouver, and to have it so low on a Sunday was quite exceptional. They have been frequently arranged overhead while I am working in the bulb picking fields from the last three years of farm work, seemingly at their assigned altitude. But yesterday's low flypast was the first one. They once arranged a similar float plane to buzz me once when hiking near a ridge line. The aircraft lined me up from over a half mile away and cleared the ridge top by some 20', it was that close. This in a park and well away from the standard flight paths. Just another means it seems in extending the role of aircraft, for whatever service they provide for the perps' games.
Regular readers will know that outdoor landscaping work at the FFF house has been accompanied first by the STRATCOM bombers (or, perhaps, noise only emulations), then overflights by scheduled aircraft (such as the one that came in low yesterday), then the faux neighbors and their lawnmowers, chain saws, leaf blowers and other two cycle gasoline powered engine noise. This progressive noise pattern of fuel burning engines occurs each time I am outside doing the yard and garden maintenance work, repeating after lunch, just as it does when start in the morning. But I suppose they needed an aircraft to come in close to augment this continuum of noise and fuel burning, from terra firma (lawnmowers etc.) to way up where STRATCOM B-52 bombers fly, what, 50,000' (guessing).
1750h
An interesting news piece I came across, a submarine sailor going amok and shooting two officers on board a submarine that was in port for public visitation purposes. I didn't think too much of it until I read the physical newspaper article that visiting dignitaries were on board (inside) and the ruckus happened there, with a group of schoolchildren waiting outside, who were never threatened or even aware of what transpired. Well......... I do get plenty of children gangstalkers with their parents carrying or pushing them along, and even school groups that "happen" to be downtown for whatever reason. And so it seems to me, the children are used as biosensors for psychic fields, and in the case of this tragic mayhem aboard a submarine with the children outside, might the perps be doing their etheric/psychic energy detection research with these children, while a deadly bloodletting went on inside? Could be, as it seems the perps were (two months ago) working on having the Fugliest Negro leaning against a wall while I was on the other side going down steel stairs. Though we are talking another order of magnitude, with a submarine hull some inches thick of steel. Lest one think I am extrapolating too far, many other TI's note some "coincidence management" around tragic public massacres, such as at teaching institutions, and suspect the deemed assailant might have been under the control of remote influencing technology. Funny how this online article dropped the mention of the children outside, and that they were not witness to the event.
2030h
Tea and chocolate are done; at five times repeating motorcycle noise was good for swearing at them once. Then a 1" red spot flash was good for another vocalized complaint, and while in mid-rant they put a 5"x1/2" yellow flash immediately in front of my face. The sickos are decidedly more disruptive today. Same for the dementia act father yesterday, he was decidedly more disruptive and invasive, and putting on the dementia bullshit way too thick. He wasn't dulled down like he has been so often.
2040h
Three more motorcycle noise events in quick succession that somehow get through my earmuffs, when I didn't have them on at above mentioned tea-time. Somehow, the perps like to deliver the same specific noise at the same volume level, seated at the table, and then at my desk, 180 degrees different orientation. No respite today, never mind how improbable it is to have the same motorcycle repeating so often.
2055h
And maybe this is why TI's get bright lights shone at them; headlights, night lights on in the day time and even the odd flash from nowhere. This article indicates that there is a magnetic moment created when light passes through a non-conductor (dielectric). And given that I am kept in a densified magnetic field, measured at 1600 Gauss two years ago, it would make sense that the perps are looking to detect the result of the magnetic interference, and in doing so, detect the magnetic, (or, electromagnefic, or energetic) signature they seem to know about in advance, probably from static testing of cooperative subjects. Long known to the perps of course, but we in surface-world were allowed to catch up on this one. Lucky us.
2120h
I see the font size games are continuing; each time I come back to this and write an entry (above), the font size gets a little smaller. Same old same old, and nine years of it now.
Here is a TI resource I did not know about until today, recieving an email out of the blue. Keep the Ethical Light Burning, or KELB, and they seem dedicated to what the real issue is, nonconsensual human experimentation. Full stop. It is what all this abuse is about, and is a continuation of past abuses (many of the same subjects, like me) that began in the 1950's under the MKUltra banner, though I suspect there was more, e.g., the radiological testing of US Forces personnel.
No mojo tonight, not even to get going on the job searching, a chronic situation as I slip into my line of credit this week, the first time in over a year. Maybe the gardening work can bail me out for $200 this month when it wraps up.
And nothing today about my oil drilling job application three days ago, the seeming culmination of three years of planted ideations. Hopefully this bullshit is now run its course and is over for good. And a decided motivational suck-down on getting a vineyard job in the Okanagan, another planted and impractical ideation that was planted at least two years ago, and seemed to reach a fever pitch about two months ago. I applied to two places and haven't heard from either, as the accomodation arrangements must work out as well. Hopefully this too will pass and the perps' grand plans for my late-spring job early summer job scene will settle down to what I was expecting it to be, the same as the last two years. That is, pick strawberries and then as the season winds down, pick raspberries. And when the latter is done, then I go pick daffodil bulbs from the ground after the tractor has lifted them. That takes me to September and so another year of "red testing" (strawberries and raspberries only) ends. And I see my perp abetting mother is already purchasing California strawberries, having served them last night for dessert. A harbinger of the daffodil picking job I did two months ago, when she was purchasing imported ones before the local picking season started? (Recall that I picked daffodil flowers for four weeks in Febuary and March 2011). Very likely, and perhaps this utter job ideation nonsense that has been planted in mind will come to pass for freaking good.
2145h
On that note, I will conclude this posting and dullified day, getting to do laundry this morning, so not at total shut-in.
Showing posts with label facial masking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label facial masking. Show all posts
Monday, April 25, 2011
Friday, November 16, 2007
Curly Hair Gangstalkers
1320h
I will have to review my past blogs to see if I identified a particular demographic the perps like to draw gangstalkers from, and that is the curly haired types. I get plenty of corded and corn row hairdo's, along with male ponytails, and redheads are also a perp priority to in my proximity. Two days ago, the perps put on this frizzy and curly headed dude at the traffic light, and made sure that I looked at him for no other reason but for their own designs, as he was set up with the sunlight coming from behind him, hence only his hairstyle was visible, the rest was in a (managed) dimness, removing his facial features and darker skin color. In another event, the perps put on this mid thirties negro dude with grey hair in a tight curly mat, something that had to be arranged as it was bizarrely unnatural. Then, while at an office nearby, they put out this orange clothed woman with a full head of curly hair, shooting forth like a large mop. And lo, if there wasn't an 3' tall orange box nearby.
I have no idea as to why I don't care for curly hair, but I don't, and it causes me to wonder what the perps were up to in my early development years to cause this traumatization reaction, as it seems to be. I don't know what the deal is, but the perps seem to be on this theme more of late, along with planting many obesers in my proximity, especially at the gym. I never did take to the 1960's afro look, and nor to the wirey hair that is a reasonable facsimilie of it. Not my problem, whatever head hair traumatizations I have, no matter who did it or when.
I see there are two residential towers planned a half block away, and I can only assume this relates to the perp's propensity to excavate deep foundations, construct building foundations, and complete a building nearly everywhere I go. The choice of building is usually conforming to neighborhood zoning, and over the long past it has been in the form of a house, one story commercial building and even a 50+ story tower in Seattle, next to the one I worked in. I got to see it from an existing site to a 120' deep pit through the steel work to a clad building, only across the street. Another tall building was outside my apartment. Demolishing buildings has also "happened" on my beat, and there is new one that I now pass twice a week on my way to gym and back, across from the street and sidewalk excavations.
1935h
Currently, noisestalking games; a simultaneous instance of an extended session of morse code being played with a vehicle horn (from the left side), and the faux neighbor water use noise (from the right side) that has an abnormally high coincidence with other noises.
2145h
An off-cycle crap was just scripted; normally, I am run to have no need to take a shit from Wednesday to Monday, as it has been consistent for over 6 weeks. Another change for reasons that can only be related to the perp's sick minded brown color games, in all their forms.
And a general potpourri of weirdness today, and I have been more exposed to it as there is an off-site association that I have started to be involved in, all legal, proper, and formal.
I was using an Excel spreadsheet there, and 30 minutes before lunch, the perp and harassment witching hour, the cursor began to act strangely, operating not to the right of it, but three spaces over. After a period of hyper-alertness in attempting to understand the problem, a state the perps like me to be in as it must exercise the few neural circuits that they cannot yet fuck with, I gave up and went for lunch. I explained the problem before I left to the responsible person, and we agreed to look into it afterward. And lo, if the "problem" self repaired itself; when the person asked about it they didn't seem too fussed that it happened or that it self-repaired. This would of been a problem with the kernel of Excel and of extreme interest to anyone who depends on this versatile software to do their job. Not a big deal, as it "so happened", meaning it was a rigged jerkaround for some fun and games from the sickos who create the problem for themselves by refusing to declare their human nonconsensual experimentation activities over a lifetime, and then harass the living hell out of their victims for their fuckups along the way.
I don't suppose it was any coincidence, but there was a thoughtful piece on blondes that "showed up" on one of my regular news websites. I read it after lunch, and before I set off to tussle with the Excel spreadsheet, and while interesting, I have never "got it", possibly from experience to the contrary, the dumb blonde stereotype that is often pilloried. Just one of those "never happened" judgements I suppose. But after I got off the elevator and out of the apartment building with my pals, see below, who was the first lead-ahead gangstalker? A blonde woman 40' ahead, trolling along in black pants and a grey suede jacket. For the first block at least, and then the swarms of shiftless males and other vagrants "took over" gangstalking duties. The perps lined up one of their shiftless males in front of the blonde woman so the two images were spatially overlapped from my vantage point, repeating a common trick in attempting to leverage the "aura"/energetics of a favored demographic member to that of the unfavored shiftless male operative. Next the perps will be planting males in suits next to blondes, and so it will go. I am calling this a prediction, and there have been very few that have not turned out. It is one of my challenges to the clinical cowards that sit back and pretend the harassment isn't happening. Also true of the former social circle, especially for those of that group who might be allowed to read this.
My outbound elevator escapade after lunch paired the stentorian apartment manager and a spook hiding under his sweater, as it was pulled up over his nose, he looking at me. The manager had a vacuum cleaner with him and with a long coiled yellow extension cord on the upright cleaner's handle and was place behind me as I stood in the elevator. And lo, if there wasn't a bicycle attatched to a post outside with same color yellow anodized rims gleaming in my managed world of photonic phenomenon. Bicycles are the new "sleeper agents"; they are attached to posts all over town at the oddest locations, even without a decent cover story such as at an intersection for some two hours for round trip exposure.
The disturbing thing about the above operative in the elevator with his sweater over his nose, showing only his eyes and forehead, was the fact that I was screwed out of knowing how odd that it was initially, for a few seconds at least, and was purposely delayed in determining what I can ordinarily figure out in an instant. This confirms that my entire mental constructs of what is normal and what is odd, perverse, or improbable is now controllable and changeable by the perps. They can defeat this determination at anytime for as long as they want.
And on the topic of hiding one's face; the woman whom I am dealing with over this mighty spreadsheet was in an 1960's style hat today; peaked, and it pulled over her forehead. Another woman, a blonde even, whom I met for the first time as I was about to depart, was also wearing a same style of hat, also pulled over her forehead. It seems part of the trend as noted a few days ago in a blog posting, a consistent perp theme to display the eyes, or even only part of them or a partial face, in print, online and in person. And only the most fleeting of glances are allowed of late, between me and checkout cashiers, if at all.
And while inside a store, I got to "meet the vagrants" at the door; four of them doing a helping each other act, a ruse for contact between them, and an rentacop standing around too, on sentry duty it would seem.
And why am I getting red soled shoes on lead-ahead gangstalkers, at least once per day when I am out in public? They are usually leading me by 10' or so, and my attention gets controlled and directed to look at these fugly shoes more than I would want, and yet this never happened before. The red shoes and footwear games have been happening on and off for years, but of late, it is the soles, and am jerked into seeing them after an operative placing himself in position.
And more on-street improbabilities and inter-operative contact. I was walking on the sidewalk 12' behind a two-ranked swarm of five gangstalkers, and there was an adjacent vehicle parked where a person got out of the rear passenger compartment to attend to the meter, a bit odd to begin with. Then two more gangstalkers got out of the same door, and lo, if they didn't "perchance" meet their long lost friends of the second gangstalker rank, and engage in hugs and the like immediately in front of me. Just another bullshit event, but consistent with some of the games that are scripted of late, some kind of interpersonal energy interactions.
And doubtless related to this are the "together and then not-together" ambulatory gangstalker couples or pairs who I "encounter". A couple, or familial members, will be walking side by side, and then they spilt apart, one taking a 4' lead in front of the other, as if they did not know each other, when it is sometimes plainly obvious, e.g. two similar looking East Indian men. Or vice versa, seeming unrelated individuals, one ahead of the other, and then they "link up" when further away. Freaking bizarre.
The perps let me in on how well they can fuck with my short term recall when I got back; they forced a "forget" on what I did 10 seconds earlier, in this case, turning on a lightswitch. I had a sudden "inability" to recall if I had turned the light on or not, and it was obviously staged for me to know this latest development of being fucked with. Funny how the doctor never seems too moved by these new incursions of recall manipulation/dysfunction, as this would be truly indicative of Alzheimer's if it happened all the time. It represents deep neural, brainstem area, manipulations and selective dithering. According to the doctors' training this is not supposed to happen. It is the ongoing joke/futility of expecting clinical curiousness and professionalism. Har, har; next it will be "brain lube" medication, changed every 5,000 miles. (A dig on a particular individual).
And I might be allowed to get this posted today; I have even been permitted to review the posting and correct the errors that I was forced into making and not allowed to know about at the time. I have done exhaustive rewriting all my life, and it is time the assholes who created this intolerable imposition gave it a rest. Been there, done that. Fuck off for good.
And on that ascerbic and testy note it is time to blog off and call this one done.
I will have to review my past blogs to see if I identified a particular demographic the perps like to draw gangstalkers from, and that is the curly haired types. I get plenty of corded and corn row hairdo's, along with male ponytails, and redheads are also a perp priority to in my proximity. Two days ago, the perps put on this frizzy and curly headed dude at the traffic light, and made sure that I looked at him for no other reason but for their own designs, as he was set up with the sunlight coming from behind him, hence only his hairstyle was visible, the rest was in a (managed) dimness, removing his facial features and darker skin color. In another event, the perps put on this mid thirties negro dude with grey hair in a tight curly mat, something that had to be arranged as it was bizarrely unnatural. Then, while at an office nearby, they put out this orange clothed woman with a full head of curly hair, shooting forth like a large mop. And lo, if there wasn't an 3' tall orange box nearby.
I have no idea as to why I don't care for curly hair, but I don't, and it causes me to wonder what the perps were up to in my early development years to cause this traumatization reaction, as it seems to be. I don't know what the deal is, but the perps seem to be on this theme more of late, along with planting many obesers in my proximity, especially at the gym. I never did take to the 1960's afro look, and nor to the wirey hair that is a reasonable facsimilie of it. Not my problem, whatever head hair traumatizations I have, no matter who did it or when.
I see there are two residential towers planned a half block away, and I can only assume this relates to the perp's propensity to excavate deep foundations, construct building foundations, and complete a building nearly everywhere I go. The choice of building is usually conforming to neighborhood zoning, and over the long past it has been in the form of a house, one story commercial building and even a 50+ story tower in Seattle, next to the one I worked in. I got to see it from an existing site to a 120' deep pit through the steel work to a clad building, only across the street. Another tall building was outside my apartment. Demolishing buildings has also "happened" on my beat, and there is new one that I now pass twice a week on my way to gym and back, across from the street and sidewalk excavations.
1935h
Currently, noisestalking games; a simultaneous instance of an extended session of morse code being played with a vehicle horn (from the left side), and the faux neighbor water use noise (from the right side) that has an abnormally high coincidence with other noises.
2145h
An off-cycle crap was just scripted; normally, I am run to have no need to take a shit from Wednesday to Monday, as it has been consistent for over 6 weeks. Another change for reasons that can only be related to the perp's sick minded brown color games, in all their forms.
And a general potpourri of weirdness today, and I have been more exposed to it as there is an off-site association that I have started to be involved in, all legal, proper, and formal.
I was using an Excel spreadsheet there, and 30 minutes before lunch, the perp and harassment witching hour, the cursor began to act strangely, operating not to the right of it, but three spaces over. After a period of hyper-alertness in attempting to understand the problem, a state the perps like me to be in as it must exercise the few neural circuits that they cannot yet fuck with, I gave up and went for lunch. I explained the problem before I left to the responsible person, and we agreed to look into it afterward. And lo, if the "problem" self repaired itself; when the person asked about it they didn't seem too fussed that it happened or that it self-repaired. This would of been a problem with the kernel of Excel and of extreme interest to anyone who depends on this versatile software to do their job. Not a big deal, as it "so happened", meaning it was a rigged jerkaround for some fun and games from the sickos who create the problem for themselves by refusing to declare their human nonconsensual experimentation activities over a lifetime, and then harass the living hell out of their victims for their fuckups along the way.
I don't suppose it was any coincidence, but there was a thoughtful piece on blondes that "showed up" on one of my regular news websites. I read it after lunch, and before I set off to tussle with the Excel spreadsheet, and while interesting, I have never "got it", possibly from experience to the contrary, the dumb blonde stereotype that is often pilloried. Just one of those "never happened" judgements I suppose. But after I got off the elevator and out of the apartment building with my pals, see below, who was the first lead-ahead gangstalker? A blonde woman 40' ahead, trolling along in black pants and a grey suede jacket. For the first block at least, and then the swarms of shiftless males and other vagrants "took over" gangstalking duties. The perps lined up one of their shiftless males in front of the blonde woman so the two images were spatially overlapped from my vantage point, repeating a common trick in attempting to leverage the "aura"/energetics of a favored demographic member to that of the unfavored shiftless male operative. Next the perps will be planting males in suits next to blondes, and so it will go. I am calling this a prediction, and there have been very few that have not turned out. It is one of my challenges to the clinical cowards that sit back and pretend the harassment isn't happening. Also true of the former social circle, especially for those of that group who might be allowed to read this.
My outbound elevator escapade after lunch paired the stentorian apartment manager and a spook hiding under his sweater, as it was pulled up over his nose, he looking at me. The manager had a vacuum cleaner with him and with a long coiled yellow extension cord on the upright cleaner's handle and was place behind me as I stood in the elevator. And lo, if there wasn't a bicycle attatched to a post outside with same color yellow anodized rims gleaming in my managed world of photonic phenomenon. Bicycles are the new "sleeper agents"; they are attached to posts all over town at the oddest locations, even without a decent cover story such as at an intersection for some two hours for round trip exposure.
The disturbing thing about the above operative in the elevator with his sweater over his nose, showing only his eyes and forehead, was the fact that I was screwed out of knowing how odd that it was initially, for a few seconds at least, and was purposely delayed in determining what I can ordinarily figure out in an instant. This confirms that my entire mental constructs of what is normal and what is odd, perverse, or improbable is now controllable and changeable by the perps. They can defeat this determination at anytime for as long as they want.
And on the topic of hiding one's face; the woman whom I am dealing with over this mighty spreadsheet was in an 1960's style hat today; peaked, and it pulled over her forehead. Another woman, a blonde even, whom I met for the first time as I was about to depart, was also wearing a same style of hat, also pulled over her forehead. It seems part of the trend as noted a few days ago in a blog posting, a consistent perp theme to display the eyes, or even only part of them or a partial face, in print, online and in person. And only the most fleeting of glances are allowed of late, between me and checkout cashiers, if at all.
And while inside a store, I got to "meet the vagrants" at the door; four of them doing a helping each other act, a ruse for contact between them, and an rentacop standing around too, on sentry duty it would seem.
And why am I getting red soled shoes on lead-ahead gangstalkers, at least once per day when I am out in public? They are usually leading me by 10' or so, and my attention gets controlled and directed to look at these fugly shoes more than I would want, and yet this never happened before. The red shoes and footwear games have been happening on and off for years, but of late, it is the soles, and am jerked into seeing them after an operative placing himself in position.
And more on-street improbabilities and inter-operative contact. I was walking on the sidewalk 12' behind a two-ranked swarm of five gangstalkers, and there was an adjacent vehicle parked where a person got out of the rear passenger compartment to attend to the meter, a bit odd to begin with. Then two more gangstalkers got out of the same door, and lo, if they didn't "perchance" meet their long lost friends of the second gangstalker rank, and engage in hugs and the like immediately in front of me. Just another bullshit event, but consistent with some of the games that are scripted of late, some kind of interpersonal energy interactions.
And doubtless related to this are the "together and then not-together" ambulatory gangstalker couples or pairs who I "encounter". A couple, or familial members, will be walking side by side, and then they spilt apart, one taking a 4' lead in front of the other, as if they did not know each other, when it is sometimes plainly obvious, e.g. two similar looking East Indian men. Or vice versa, seeming unrelated individuals, one ahead of the other, and then they "link up" when further away. Freaking bizarre.
The perps let me in on how well they can fuck with my short term recall when I got back; they forced a "forget" on what I did 10 seconds earlier, in this case, turning on a lightswitch. I had a sudden "inability" to recall if I had turned the light on or not, and it was obviously staged for me to know this latest development of being fucked with. Funny how the doctor never seems too moved by these new incursions of recall manipulation/dysfunction, as this would be truly indicative of Alzheimer's if it happened all the time. It represents deep neural, brainstem area, manipulations and selective dithering. According to the doctors' training this is not supposed to happen. It is the ongoing joke/futility of expecting clinical curiousness and professionalism. Har, har; next it will be "brain lube" medication, changed every 5,000 miles. (A dig on a particular individual).
And I might be allowed to get this posted today; I have even been permitted to review the posting and correct the errors that I was forced into making and not allowed to know about at the time. I have done exhaustive rewriting all my life, and it is time the assholes who created this intolerable imposition gave it a rest. Been there, done that. Fuck off for good.
And on that ascerbic and testy note it is time to blog off and call this one done.
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