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.


  1. what is your occupation? you dont have to be specific ... doctor, teacher, etc.....

    1. I actually do not work under any type of professional position.