It’s not Halloween–it’s another night of surfing the net!

And the spooks are everywhere!  I mean-EVERYWHERE, in my internet surfing. I have not used the internet by myself for over a decade.

I have not researched any topic, any issue, or any other thing without the foreknowledge that I have an extra group of special frens’ in ‘my head’ ‘helping me’ interact with the vast conspiracy of internet switches, intelligence services nodes, and topical subversions that everyone else now knows as ‘just the way the internet works,’ as if, having a bunch of trick or treaters at your internet door EVERY NIGHT is NORMAL.

I may be a bit whack–but I am pretty sure that the normal, average, reasonable citizens of Mamasota do NOT have trick or treaters at their doors every night. As far as I know, tricks for treats only come around ONCE PER YEAR for most citizens of my locality.

And, from what I know (and I truly know nothing of value) most reasonable people endure Hallowen for one night, and VOILA! It’s over-the tricks for treats go away.

But not for me–for me, every single time I log on to the interent–from nearly (nearly) every conection, I get lots of tricks, and very few treats. In fact, the grandest and most tasty available bowl of treats that is accessible to most every ordinary person was denied to me–the basic treat of ‘librty’ was pre-emptively underminded in 2000, and counting.

That wonderful treat of ‘the pursuit of happiness,’ was taken, once the Pakistani girl photographed me at a rally for freedom. Ooops-was that a FReedomly slip? Sorry-we will refer to this later as a coded trigger.

Well, either way, maybe everybody gets netcut when they research Keith Alexander, or Obama’s choices in health care–and Turkish baths.–maybe ‘everybody’ has a family member or two who works directly for the same people that made this sort of internet subversion possible–maybe.

And, likely, many people where I live have inside knowledge about the Whitewater transactions, and so forth–maybe, just maybe.

Or, maybe that’s because I live in Mamasota, which is home to the “Halloween Capitol of the world.”

Or, maybe, it’s because I was drawn into Mamsota’s honeypot, via the prostituted daughter of a disgraced law enfarcer–that’s another story, one I will write later.

But, sadly for you, I am not scared of ghosts; I am not scared of spooks either; and, my track record is clear about a few things beyond that: you cannot intimidate me into silence with local law enfarcers, police brutality, or even death-bring it on. Last I recall? That wonderful sinking feeling; and the rich smell of black earth filled my nostrils? Bring it on! I was happier there than here.Nothing bar none is greater than the feeling of slipping into the earth-NOTHING.

But sadly, I keep getting called up again–called up to protect those who are truly vulnerable–those who truly need me to provide a foundation weaved in an architecturally sound, watershed friendly CEMENT surrounded, horticulturaly surrounded total environment for them to grow in.

Which of course, is a difficult task, caught as I am between those who still sport 1970’s bushes, and those others who hide on them, sniping at me with lasers, car headlights, cameras, and so forth

And, I still retain the memory of the squad car driving away moments before I was shot; I still remember the DEtective at my death bed, asking me to name names, or identify faces from a big book-and that book? It was ONLY, and EXCLUSIVELY full of the faces of black men and boys; and me–I wasn’t in any shape to play race games with a cop. I had, myself, recently been planted forever, but somehow awkoe to the tears of children who needed me to stay around this place, and I, reluctantly, lived again.

Lke Frankenstein, I was part me, part something dead, thereafter.

And,  you cannot blackmail me into obscurity; and you are on notice that I am aware, via ‘intelligence,’ that you are vulnerable now, too–or can be made so more and more–as you seek to silence me-AGAIN.

OOps–was that a Fraudulence slip? Did I just virtually (the internet is a virtual medium–a grand ‘game’ of the occlusion of reality for the end game of ‘historical truth’ ascertained through narrative voice told in the real time, real world)–oh shit–I need to set my MS clock, that comforting icon in the right hand lower corner of every MS box, anywhere–I haven’t worked on a computer in ‘real time’ since 2003, when I first encountered the Fabians….

But I am not scared of Monstee’s. Not one bit. I invite you in. Have you missed the fact that none of my boxes are protected with the theoretical ‘safety nets’ of anti-virus, malware detection, or encryption? Haven’t been for years.

Have you found all of these abilities for me to cloak myself thusly? I would think five years would have been enough for you to do so–unless you think those years were not documented elsewhere;-)

NOt that I don’t have all the freeware tools to do that then and even now–I do–multiple copies, for multiple versions of Windows; UBuntu, Linux, DEbian–and a shit load of other abilities from foreign services that you don’t even have names for yet. (funny, the things that cops across the world are uploading to the internet because they are, as the Nevada dupe was, naive to the uses of simple programs like-oh, never mind. We can talk about that when you man up-or wpman up, as in the Louisiana and Texas cases).

Does that spook you a bit? Yeah–me too, or NOT.

Because what YOU have been doing, is sniffing my pee stained underwear since 2007 ( yes, lets examine that metaphor–will that help you profile? Will it make you a stronger agent? Nope–because the fine line between info and disinfo was crossed BY YOU in 2001, when you once again attacked those I love.)

Well, I digress!

But every night on the internet is, and has been Halloween, since 2005 and forwards. I knew in that year that the internet was no longer ‘private’.

I knew in 2006-7 that there was a local connection informed by ‘another’ conection; and I kinew that because of who showed up in that era to situate themselves near me, or ‘outside of me’–I knew that because of what everyone else knows now: that there is a targeted abiity of our services to create, to uncreate; to direct, and redirect internet content, and e-mail ability.

And lots of unfunny clowns, too, who need to re-read their oaths and manuals of clownery–could maybe get a clue that being obvious can and often DOES have adverse effects that put their clown covens in jeopardy–jeopardy of losing funding, much less respect from other clowns who might have been able to provide funnier, more readable, and actionable scripts.

Put another way–, once in awhile, in my isolated experience on the internet, via real Google (as opposed to Fake Google and it’s papa, ICReach-around), I get fed some real interesting shit–like tonight, when a 2 hour search of various disinformative information led me to an actionable series of data(start with XKEYSCORE, for the n00bs)–AND an added benefit of an interesting person ( a very curiously intelligent woman) and some of her interests–like, How much do American phone companies profit from wiretapping subc=scribers phones?

And why did she get sent to me tonight? AFter all–with the profile of “me” thatyou have been dilligently working on for these decades-why didn’t you send her sooner? After all, women with minds, and women who use them, are rare commodities in the breedbasket.

The answer is? TONS OF CASH, paid by the government, to ‘private’ corporations to subvert the Constitutional guarantees of freedom to transact–because state dollars are always earmarked for morons with guns- ( I am not yet at the point of investigating the subversion of the commerce clause, international treaties, etc., just in case you want to update your 6th amendment subversion file with my name on it).

BUt I love plain English–zhidao ma?

“Charging Uncle Sam $775 per wiretap connection, plus a $500 wiretapping monthly rate, Verizon has the steepest fee, but A&T is not far behind.  A wiretap with that carrier will cost the government (taxpayers) a $325 “activation fee,” plus $10 a day for maintenance. Smaller companies, like Cricket and US Cellular, offer more affordable, $250 wiretaps.”

But my first wiretaps–2005-6, came the old fashioned way–a camera, pointed at my caller ID, which had the most curiously timed signatures from City Hall, and all of which numbers were dropped into fax machines, and so forth when I called them back.

That relic, caller ID, on film, isn’t that attractive–but her information got me quite excited, though I was alone with that data for quite awhile.

Oh enough already–here is a snap from her research:







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