According to the literature I have read, what I am about to do should work perfectly.
And, I am starting the process right now-it takes a certain “buil-up” in my system to combat ‘immunity,’which could cause this to fail (like the other day).
This time, I know ‘what’ failed, and I have eradicaTED that flaw.
In the next world, I bet that the newspapers don’t talk to you or me. But this world? What crap-the news is always trying to subtly incite or aggravate me, and I know who it is that plants these stories.
In the next world, they will believe me when I say that the news is just an FBI platform of people manipulation.
When I say that I say it with this in mind–this which any real journalist knows to be true–:
The war begins when they plant items in news stories, or otherwise begin an ‘information’ campaign via journalists and news outlets. War begins at the tip of the pen, or the punch of a computr key, via journalists who are enamored with ‘connection’ to ‘official sources.’
And, such a war waged against a viable enemy is possibly understandable. Al Qeada, yes, Saddam and ‘weapons of mass destruction’–bin Ladens porn stash–? no– complete falsehoods propagated by media outlets via journalists hungry for ‘connection/s’.
But, still a lie.
Imagine, now, such a war, waged against one singular American citizen. All of the power of the state and its alphabet agencies; and all the hunger of journalists for a meaningful story–all of this, against one person; an individual with scant resources, and the entirety of the same media, and the same military propaganda machine aimed at them for decades.
Needles in Haystacks are important to these types who seek connection and credibility–I want nothing to do with either, at least, not in this nation of psycopathic and narcissistic people who maraud around the world murdering children, and then, using the press to cover over it.
They and those like them burn entire towns, and plant depleted uranium everywhere they go, and agree to NOT talk about it; and vilify, stalk, harass and otherwise derail or subvert those of us who DO talk about it.
What kind of social compact is that? I just cannot sign on–and because of this? Wait–just wait till’ I tell you what they have done to me.
Yeah–my life, without the towns, the villages; but plenty of burned children, and things more toxic than depleted uranium dropped on and into my head.
Then, there is this: I am monitored and they subtly insert their narrative into mine in ways that have no words yet:
And always, some of this:
While my connection gets rerouted, redirected, and subverted at all times; subject to and smitten by programs that as yet have no names, despite Snowden’s best efforts at awakening us–US.
This type of thing:
tracert says this(note the timeouts)-
Microsoft Windows [Version 6.2.9200]
(c) 2012 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.
C:\Users\SpA Newspaper plant>tracert panopticalorpheus.wordpress.com
Tracing route to lb.wordpress.com [126.96.36.199]
over a maximum of 30 hops:
1 5 ms 2 ms 2 ms 192.168.43.1
2 43 ms 46 ms 48 ms 10.170.225.64
3 47 ms 53 ms 46 ms 10.170.218.5
4 253 ms 73 ms 56 ms 10.170.218.11
5 53 ms 56 ms 54 ms 10.177.18.29
6 49 ms 56 ms 56 ms 10.177.18.18
7 52 ms 55 ms 49 ms 10.177.18.9
8 52 ms 48 ms 48 ms xe-9-0-0.edge4.Chicago2.Level3.net [188.8.131.52]
9 74 ms 68 ms 73 ms vl-3606-ve-230.ebr2.Chicago2.Level3.net [4.69.15
10 * * * Request timed out.
11 * * * Request timed out.
12 * * * Request timed out.
13 63 ms 79 ms 66 ms ae-23-70.car3.Washington1.Level3.net [184.108.40.206
14 67 ms 66 ms 81 ms PEER-1-NETW.car3.Washington1.Level3.net [4.79.16
15 70 ms 66 ms 67 ms 10ge.xe-3-1-0.wdc-sp225-sbcor-2.peer1.net [216.1
16 82 ms 122 ms 74 ms 220.127.116.11
C:\Users\SpA Newspaper Plants>
While online tracert via Monitis says this:
THere’s no clear playing field any more; not even a hilltop to wave the white flag of surrender–they just keep pushing, and driving people, while they rape our anonymity, they hide behind the great firewall of United States concieved and implemented terror, lobbing mind bombs at me, because I once read Gregory Corso’s poem into my wiretaped phone.