Friday, July 29, 2011

SMS #0008: I have also seen Black men appear before me in blue. I am wondering if they are members of The Crips. I would not be surprised.
SMS #0007: By the way, when you see short blog entries that means I am sending them via SMS text messaging. Blogspot splits my SMS into fragments when it is "too long."
SMS #0006: There was a Latin Fuck (or maybe a government stooge among them) standing outside my apartment building to intimidate me not too long ago.
SMS #0005: A Latin King just told me "[You] better stay out of our business." I'm sorry Mr. Latin Thug, but when you're targeting me that makes it my business.
SMS #0004: More Latin King trouble. It is so nice to see that Weed and Seed is "weeding out" law abiding citizens by "seeding in" criminals.

Monday, July 25, 2011

SMS #0003: I WILL NOT use violence unless it's in self-defense.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

SMS #0002: More psy-ops from Latin Kings. I'm starting to think that the establishment is trying to frame me.
SMS #0001: I am feeling sick right now probably due to Directed Energy Weapons (DEW)

Saturday, July 23, 2011

SMS #0000: I sometimes feel I am too stubborn for my own good.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Just Like The Old COINTELPRO?

To all Christians reading this blog entry: You will find a paragraph in this article containing Anti-Christian statements. This is NOT to insinuate that I hate all Christians. I just find that many, if not the majority of those practicing your religion are hypocrites with distorted morals.


July 21, 2011

I was feeling tense from some previous rounds of harassment and intimidation. I anticipated on going for a walk to release the tension. My nerves for feeling shot, so I was unsure about whether to go out. I lay in my bed while thinking about it. I hear cars accelerating outside my building. My phone rang and it was a friend of mine. We had an hour long conversation that involved my friend trying to convert me to Christianity. I was feeling irritated at every word of his preaching, but felt too mentally exhausted to concoct an effective argument. The conversation  eventually ended. I continued considering the idea of going for that walk after disconnecting. I immediately heard a long blowing of a horn. I decided to go ahead and go for a walk. I took a bag full of items with me because I could not escape the feeling of that my items would get stolen.

I left my apartment and walked through the streets to find three Black thugs standing against a wall watching me. I stopped by a coffee house and found a fat, ugly Black woman (I believe she has been actively involved in spreading rumors about me) having a conversation with another young woman. I stood at the counter to wait for a clerk. The clerk turned out as the woman with whom the Black woman was conversing. I started remembering seeing her in there numerous times. I ordered what they call a Strawberry Freeze and took a seat at the other side of the building. I had noticed that there weren't too many people in the building. I caught the two women looking in my direction. My tension started rising. I had two buttons in my pocket about organized stalking. I was hesitant about putting one of them on at first, but decided to just try it. I immediately started feeling relieved. I put some earplugs in my ears, so I would not have to listen to any covert harassment. I started writing some thoughts of mine down in a notebook. I lost my train of thought, so I took out a book and started reading it. The title of this book is "Virtue of Selfishness" written by Ayn Rand. I started feeling more relieved at every word for most were the words of truth and true virtue. Reading this book has greatly pissed off my stalkers by the way, perhaps because it indirectly speaks the truth about their mentality; especially the chapter entitled "Collectivized Rights."

I then left the coffee house and continued walking through the streets, going wherever my mind takes me. I came across a large number of Latino Street Thugs stalking me, along with lesser percentages of Black and White ones. I passed by an idle car full of White stalkers with the engine running. "Don't you dare ask me that," one of them said. I turned to look at them and none were looking at me. They instead looked into space. I had no idea what the guy meant, so I wondered if they were talking to me. I continued walking and heard a door slam as I passed a night club. I turned right upon arriving at Mulberry Street and walked through there. It became peaceful and serene until I found a young Black man following me. He did not look like a Street Thug as my usual Black stalkers. He actually looked like a decent young man, whom exhibited the stereotypical traits of a college student. I was at first wondering if he was just an innocent bystander until I heard him clear his throat. My stalkers usually do that to indicate they are part of the program. I turned another right when I arrived at West Lemon Street. I re-encountered groups of Street Thugs when I reached the corner of Queen Street, most of them were also Latino. A preteen boy and his mother were part of the group. Both of them were sitting on a brick wall located in front of a tavern. I glanced at both with the corner of my eye and the boy just gave me an innocent, seemingly friendly expression. I still knew he was stalking me. When you have been targeted as long as I have, you develop a sixth-sense for these type of events. I arrived home and went to sleep.

July 22, 2011

I awoke the next morning and prepared for work. I currently commute with a co-worker/friend to get to work. I placed the button on my shirt while waiting for that person. When the co-worker arrived, I got inside his car. He had another passenger in the backseat. Both stared at my button, wondering about the meaning of it. When we arrived at work, I removed the button before entering the building. Even though, I felt that I was doing nothing wrong, I still had a feeling that the material was too sensitive to wear on the job.

More trouble ensued when I ended my shift. A co-worker by the name of Melvin V. first gave me dirty looks. "I'm not letting the fat-fuck scare me," I told myself. I commuted with another person to get home since my friend had to leave early for an emergency. The other co-worker asked me if I was all right with him leaving me in front of a local pizzeria. I told him that I was okay with it. The pizzeria was located in a neighborhood that is considered undesirable. I had no fear for I have been down there before without incident. I walked home the rest of the way. My shorts were falling, so I stopped to pull them up.

A man sitting on a porch told  me to "come here."
I came to him and he asked, "Where are you from?"
I paused to concoct a reply because I figured he was challenging me.
"Are you from Lancaster?" He continued.
"Not originally."
"Are you staying at The Rescue Mission?"
"Are you getting high? Are you doing shit around here?"
"What's your name?"
"What are you doing here, Robert?"
"I'm just heading home, that's all;" I replied in a tone of vigilance as I pointed Northward.
"Well Robert, you see this?" He pulled away his sleeve to expose his arm, pointing at a tattoo of a five-pointed crown with a heart at the top-center. "This is Latin King, you are not to be around here unless you're doing shit."
I figured that "doing shit" must mean selling drugs.
"Now go on, get Robert." He waved his hand Northward.

I walked away feeling some tension increasing into bitter rage. "No Puerto Rican criminal is going to come into my country and tell me what to do," I thought to myself.

It is said that during the Old COINTELPRO (1956-1971)  The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) enlisted people in the mafia to carry-out their operations. So Perhaps, Department of Homeland Security (DHS) is enlisting members of street gangs to convey their bidding in the current "COINTELPRO" operations.

I arrived at the city center to find three people staring at me with sinister smiles to indicate that they know what happened. They had the appearance of decent people, so I figured they must be Christian fanatics. There are a good number (not all) of Christians, whom believe that they are righteous no matter the deeds they perform simply because they have their phony-boloney God to "cleanse" them of their sins. This is why Christianity seems to thrive on hypocrisy. Yet, Christians wonder why church attendance has declined in the last forty years. They have wondered why it was popular during the 1970s to declare that "God is dead." This type of behavior is why. It is also a good example of why I choose not to practice religion. However, I could be wrong about the three "decent" citizens being Christians. They could very well be Liberals who want so badly to achieve a Socialist society that they will use ALL means to obtain that goal. I do know that Liberals like to defend criminals while calling for the ban on the private ownership of firearms by actual law abiding citizens. Seeing Christians act in a hypocritical manner is strengthening my drive to stay away from religion. Seeing Liberals behave in their own hypocritical manner---like Communists in other words---is driving me increasing to becoming a born-again Conservative from a political standpoint.

I wore a button bearing my "mark" the previous night and morning. So, it seems likely that this Latin King decided to show me his mark. If our government is not enlisting modern gang-members into their Stasi-like COINTELPRO operations, then that must be an awfully strange coincidence.

I arrived home and decided to report to the police station to file a complaint. I took all precautions necessary for I fear that the police would arrest me on false charges. They have before harassed me for attempting to file a complaint as I had stated in the About Me (in Detail) section of this blog. I departed from my apartment only to find a young Hispanic male following me. I performed some counter-antagonism. He started getting nervous. The Hispanic male was wearing a shirt that bore a certain shade of yellow that most commonly refer as "gold." I remembered that "gold" is a Latin King color. "Are you Latin King?" I thought to myself. "Why would you be afraid of a "sissy" White boy like me?" The male turned at the corner and I continued going straight. I passed a Deli and shortly heard the sound of woman yelling, "Hey!" I turned around and saw that it was one of the workers there, whom has previously performed harassment skits against me. I figured she was imitating the Latin King to rub in the incident.          

Monday, July 18, 2011

Protesting for The First Time

I have experienced an intense number of stalking and harassment since my anticipated protest on Independence Day. However, it was on Monday, July 11, 2011 when I finally decided to execute a protest. I was finally pushed over the edge when a friend of mine---whom appears to know little about the organized stalking, but not everything---had his car mysteriously breakdown on him. This has happened on numerous occasions. I have always suspected that it was my stalkers whom were vandalizing his vehicle, probably to get to me. I decided to tape a sign to the back of a shirt that I had planned to wear for jogging. The sign said: "Stop Hidden Oppression." There was a URL at the bottom reading, "" I was heavily anxious about the reaction that I would generate. I figured that cars would blow their horns at me at the very least with police officers concocting a reason to arrest or commit me at the most. I took all precautions necessary before proceeding. I left my apartment with the sign on my shirt and ran through the streets, bearing the vital message. I stopped at a street corner located only about five-hundred feet from my apartment building, waiting for cars to pass, so I can cross the street. A woman stood behind me with a man silently reading my sign.

"I agree with you, sir!" She said to me.
I turned around as she repeated her statement. "Thanks," I replied.

Traffic had cleared, so I proceeded to jog across the street. I heard whispering as I continued jogging, but other than that, everything seemingly went back to normal (before my targeting). I came across another street corner waiting for busy traffic to clear. It was a one-way street and a construction vehicle stopped in the middle of his lane. Traffic seemed to stop on both lanes after that event. I proceeded across the street when a car came at me on the other lane. The driver yelled, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I ignored him and continued jogging. I ran back to my home covered in sweat and heavily panting. I removed my shirt to see if there were any sweat stains on the sign. There was tape lined against the sign on the inside of my shirt as well, so I only saw a few drops. I felt proud that I mustered the courage to get out and spread awareness of this system of oppression. I removed the sign and tape from the shirt, placing both aside. I drank some water and proceeded to remove the rest of my clothing to shower. I dressed with fresh new clothes afterward and headed out to run some errands. I experienced intimidation by Street Thugs. I passed a group containing three of them with one glaring at me. Another Street Thug then invaded my space to induce some fear into my mind. I first headed to the Post Office to check my PO Box then to the pharmacy to purchase some items. On my way to the pharmacy a jeep full of Street Thugs passed me with one in the backseat glaring me down. I arrived at the pharmacy and did some shopping. I waited at the check-out line once I have acquired everything and experienced directed conversation from a fat, ugly female Street Thug talking on her cell phone. She said in the middle of her conversation, "He's not going to have a job." I interpreted this statement as meaning they would retaliate in a manner to effect my employment, I began worrying.

I was on my way to work the next morning when I was confronted by a number of vehicular harassment.It went as follow:

---A police officer circled me three times

---Five commercial vehicles in a row passed me.

---Two Maryland license plates passed me that I recognize.

---A Tennessee plate passed me with the driver glaring.

---A car passed me slowly with a Ron Paul bumper sticker. This was an act of projection---using symbolism to remind the target that he/she is under surveillance. I had a conversation with a TI friend named "Alan" about Ron Paul the previous day.

---Last, but not least, a tow truck stopped next to me just sitting idle. I wondered if the driver was going to go. Suddenly, a young Amish man (yes, even the Amish are involved in organized stalking) rose from the back seat as quickly as a Jack-in-The-Box and yelled "Queer-boy." He ducked just as quickly.

When I arrived at work, a member of management stared at me in a hostile manner. I figured more trouble would come. I called Gerald (See About Me [in Detail]) to tell him about the whole thing after arriving home from the end of my shift. He advised me to cutback on the activism.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

To the owner of the black pick-up truck with the license plate beginning with "set," I was NOT casing your vehicle. I was merely admiring your bumper stickers. Don't listen to your gang-stalking neighbors. They are a threat to liberty, thus domestic enemies of the U.S. Constitution.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

When The Target has Too Much Time on His Hands---Part One

I took some vacation days at work beginning on June 30 and ending July 12. I had thoughts of protesting against my oppression as well as others to honor the holiday that is supposedly a celebration of our "freedom---Independence Day." All though, if you're an inbred idiot from Lancaster, Pennsylvania; it's a holiday to gawk and awe at colorful sparkles. I had anticipated on parading through the streets with a sign to spread awareness of organized stalking that included a URL to a website covering the issue. I was however overcome not only with euphoric excitement, but fear as well. I was becoming fearful that the police would concoct a reason to arrest me or have me committed to a psychiatric hospital.

The skies became too dark (even under the street lights) for everybody to see my sign by the time I made a decision. I was feeling frustrated, so I decided to go for a walk through the nightly streets. Everything seemed peaceful at first, but took a stress-ridden turn by the time I reached the corner of Orange and Queen Streets. A police officer stopped in front of me, flashing his lights while beeping his siren. There was nobody in his way, so I was under the impression that he was stopping me. I waited to see what he wanted. The officer drove onward instead of questioning. Some innocent bystanders at a nearby tavern seemed confused about the officer's reason for performing this action. "What the hell?" One of them said. They then mocked the officer by mimicking the sound of his siren. I stared in rage at the police car and saw a fire police jeep pull from an alley to follow the squad car. I immediately realized it was a harassment skid. I flipped them both my middle finger. "Whoa, that guy's flipping them the bird," one of the tavern patrons commented. I continued walking and passed a couple of Black Street Thugs while close to the corner of Queen and Walnut Streets. The thugs engaged in directed-conversation by saying "He's trippin'(Ebonics for 'going crazy')."

I arrived home and turned on my kitchen light as I entered my apartment---I have flood lights instead of bulbs. One of the lights flickered rapidly and immediately ceased functioning. They can destroy all the flood lights they want, I don't give a shit!" I thought (this has happened before). I went to bed an hour later to find my stalkers' Electronic Harassment Unit depriving me of sleep through the use of synthetic telepathy. They forced my arms and other parts of my body to violently jerk. This action was performed with the use of an algorithm similar to one described in Chapter two of Stasiland written by Anna Funder.

To Be Continued...