Eve of Destruction

I'm feeling close to my own destruction and know that my perps are aiming to destroy me. They have been trying to keep me under virtual house arrest and I have put up quite a resistance. I have been on the receiving end of various electronic attacks twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week (24/7) for the past four weeks. These attacks have been most intense as I try to sleep at night after awakening from an artificially induced afternoon nap. These attacks have included, but are not limited to the following: Voice-to-Skull (V2K), image induction, dream manipulation, heart stimulation, lung stimulation, and involuntary body movements. I have also been receiving burns to the soles of me feet---mostly the right foot---especially as a way to keep me from leaving my apartment for reasons other than going to work.

One of the most recent attacks is swelling on the top of my right foot. I initially perceived it as cancer and bordered on panicking. I immediately called my local medical clinic to make an appointment. My doctor examined my foot and diagnosed me with cellulitis. He told me that there are cracks in my foot that got dirty and caused this bacterial infection. He showed me the cracks that I have previously failed to notice; for they were located between my toes. I believe it was their electronic weapons that caused these cracks. In addition, employees at my workplace contact a lot of dirt even in the locker room. Most of the men wear sandals to keep dirt from contacting their feet when walking to/from the showers, but I have been walking through barefoot. There was even one day when I used the shower facility and returned to my locker to find a shallow pile of black sand in front of my locker. I walked on the black sand because I had no way of protecting my feet. I figured they were trying to give me a bacterial infection to enhance the electronic attacks to my feet. I did rinse the sand from my feet after getting dressed, but that was apparently not enough as I later learned on Wednesday, February 15, 2012. I was prescribed medication (that I'm not sure about taking too often) for the ailment, but have a feeling it will not work. I have also purchase some epsom salt to mix with hot water for soaking my feet. It seems to lessen the pain from the electronic attack. There was also a day when I purchased a pair of slippers to protect my feet at a CVS Pharmacy located near me. This was while filling my prescription and receiving some gang-stalking attacks from two pharmacists and one stock clerk. I came to work the next day and used the slippers to keep my feet from contacting the dirty floor as I walk to the shower room. My perps at work showed great disdain for this measure when I heard one of them yell, "cabron (Spanish for 'asshole')."

Given these recent attacks, I believe I will be dead sometime this year. I'll be lucky to even live another month, but I would rather die free than live as a slave. I have revealed my situation to some friends and family members (one whom turned out to be a perp) and I hope they at least suspect my death to be related to the harassment. My cause of death will be recorded as an accident, suicide, or natural causes. I will not commit suicide; for I am too stubborn to submit in this manner. There is also no way I could die of natural causes because I'm thirty years old, eat a proper diet, and exercise on a regular basis. I cannot however tell you whether it really was an accident, but I can tell you it is unlikely since I'm very careful at most of my activities.  They'll probably use Directed Energy Weapons to induce this "accident."

Let it be known to the reader that I was not murdered by mere criminals. These criminals had a leader known as Uncle Sam.  

Attempted Framing

Saturday October 8, 2011

After lifting weights and doing some push-ups at home, I left to go jogging at approximately 2:30 AM. I did not find anybody watching me near my neighborhood, but that changed when I reached the corner of North Queen Street. This is the point when I saw two vehicles accelerate past me in opposite directions. I waited for them to clear and crossed the street. I continued running until I reached the corner of Charlotte Street. That is where I turned and continued jogging Southbound. This entire block was deserted with not a human-being (or subhuman) in sight. I was practically alone other than satellite surveillance keeping tabs on me. The whole area reminded me of Rising Sun, Maryland at this time of morning. As I continued through the dark street, I came across a lit area where I found a bag of marijuana laying in the middle of the sidewalk. I do not know much about marijuana quantity, but I am guessing this bag was about a quarter ounce. The first thought to occur was "with all these drug addicts running around, the police are focused on me?" I stared at the bag as I continued running. When I reached the corner of King Street, I saw two cars pass me with a Hispanic woman in the front passenger seat of one, staring at me. "Yeah!" I shouted. This interjection was followed by the sounds of men howling from all directions. I ignored the howling as I continued running. I then saw a police car flashing its lights from a distance. When I reached closer to the location, I saw in front of the police car, a civilian vehicle and another police car behind it. I saw a female officer bent inside the back of the second patrol car and a male officer next to the driver's side door of the first patrol car. I looked inside the civilian vehicle as I jogged and saw nobody inside. For a few seconds, I thought the police were actually arresting somebody rather than stalking me. I later suspected that they were watching me, while pretending to arrest somebody to throw off any witnesses. I ran onward up a hill to get to Lime Street. I saw two young Black men of approximately nineteen years of age, standing at a corner to watch me when I reached that area. One of them was wearing a red baseball cap. I turned on Lime Street and continued running Northward until I reached my residence.

I started reflecting on the things I saw and heard when I returned home and started suspecting that the police left the bag of marijuana on the sidewalk to frame me for possession of marijuana. I figured they might have expected me to either lift the cannabis from the ground to examine it or pocket the contraband. They would in turn pop-up to surprise and arrest me. I wondered to myself if they really thought I was that stupid especially while knowing that I'm under surveillance.

Puerto Rican Perps

 Neutral---A person whom is neither a Target nor a Stalker. The majority of them do not currently know anything about organized stalking.

There is a Puerto Rican festival occurring in Lancaster. I was on my way to run some errands when an interracial couple, consisting of a Puerto Rican man and White woman, passed me. The woman laughed and said, "you crack me up." I suspect that it was directed conversation towards me. The man looked me in the face like he was trying to be hardcore. I continued walking and passed through the festival only to find myself harassed by more Perps. I did get a negative feeling flowing through my nerves the minute I entered the festival.

I left the vicinity to look for a mailbox and could not find one. I thought there was one near the post office, but found that there was not a mailbox in sight. I did however see a police officer standing on the street talking on his cell phone. That is probably normal if the post office happened to be across the street from a police station. That does not mean the officer wasn't stalking me. I'll just give him benefit of the doubt for now since there were many officers patrolling the festival. I turned away from the post office and headed to the bank to deposit my paycheck through the Automated Teller Machine (ATM). I had to re-enter the festival to run this particular errand. I passed through it again and entered the section of the bank that has the ATM. The rest of the bank was closed. A family of Puerto Ricans followed me into the building, but did not make an ATM transaction. They instead stood and talked to each other as I pull my paycheck from my wallet and endorse it upon tearing it from the stub. I then pull my ATM card from the wallet and turn around to face the machine. The family immediately left. I walked to the ATM and place my card into the slot. Another Puerto Rican arrives and closes in behind me. I am riddled with tension and start getting the feeling that he's going to rob me---I suspect that is the kind of feeling he wanted me to experience. I feed my paycheck through the ATM upon it prompting. The ATM then asks me if I would like cash-back from the deposit. I am standing there trying to make a decision. The tension gets stronger as I am standing. I make the decision to get a small amount of cash back. I eject my card upon getting the cash and wait for a receipt (I already got one for the deposit). I find that I am not getting it.  I look at the Perp out of the corner of my eye and see that he his glaring at me. Most people might say he just wants me to hurry up, but I doubt that is his only reason for glaring. I leave the ATM and put my cash and card in my wallet. The Perp is using the ATM and I decide to go back and get a mini-statement. I wait for the Perp to finish. He looks over his shoulder as if to suspect that I am up to no good---now he knows how I feel. He is approximately sixteen to nineteen years of age and has a shaved head with a red, white, and blue headband over it. He finishes using the ATM and I approach it to make the final transaction. I received my mini-statement and ejected my card. I left the ATM and look at the documents,  placing them in my wallet and leaving the bank.

I head for a another mailbox that I know. I stop at a street corner to watch for traffic. Two Puerto Rican teenagers close in on me with bikes and stop. I cross the street when traffic clears. I leave the festival and arrive at the mailbox to find that the postal worker stops collecting the mail at two 'o clock in the afternoon on Saturdays; it is closer to five 'o clock. "Son of a bitch," I say to myself. I head back home and find another Puerto Rican Perp dressed in a red---one of their colors---hooded sweatshirt. He is  watching me while flashing his cell phone. I pull my DV Camera and start filming. He starts looking away from me. A Puerto Rican couple is in front of me at first, but turned to climb some concrete stairs. I move the camera away from the "Red" Perp. I moved the camera back on the Perp the minute I thought the couple cleared, but accidentally flashed the camera at the man. I move the camera away.

The woman makes a statement in Spanish and yells, "what the fuck you recording?"

I do feel a surge of fear upon hearing the expression of hostility. I stopped recording and turn the camera off, hearing the woman yell, "asshole" upon powering down.

I have thought of posting the video on YouTube at first, but examined the video and fell under the impression that it may come close to evidence of gang-stalking, but is not quite substantial. I was thinking that any Neutral who viewed the video would  interpret the scene as the Puerto Ricans getting mad at me for filming them. I would really like to get footage that will prove without any room for doubt in a Neutral's mind, that gang-stalking does exist and I am an actual target.

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.

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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?"
"No"
"Are you getting high? Are you doing shit around here?"
"No"
"What's your name?"
"Robert"
"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.          

The Stalkers Retaliate III

I actually wrote this blog entry at approximately 5:14 AM via BlogSpot Mobile Text Messaging. I checked the blog entry on my computer to find that it was split into three fragments. I took the liberty of consolidating the fragments into one entry. I have also added some more text to summarize an episode that I experienced later at night.

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My stalkers are hitting me with microwave weapons at slightly greater intensity than usual. My left ear is aching at a moderate level and my cell phone is charging on its own. I had a Perp perform a harassment skit against me in a parking lot prior to this occurrence. I believe that this is some sort of scare-tactic in response to some work I was performing on this blog. I am currently in the break-room of my workplace; my shift starts at 6:30 AM.

  

Follow-Up

I arrived home from work at four-twenty-five in the afternoon and immediately departed from the apartment to buy some products from a nearby pharmacy. I found some people looking at me in a manner to suggest that I have no right to be out. There were three people giving me this type of stare that I could remember. The first person is some piece of inbred White Trash (as many people in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania) with a shaved head. He was heavyset and might have had bad teeth---I would not be surprised. There was also a Black girl, approximately eight years of age with short hair. She was standing on her porch stretching at the time. The third person is boy, eight to ten years of age, sitting in the backseat of a car. He appeared to be White, Hispanic, or a mix of both races. However, both of his parents appeared to be White, so perhaps the child just had a tan. I took down the license plate number of the vehicle, but will not publish it here since I have no proof that the family is involved in stalking me. They could have just heard rumors about me from the people whom are involved. Absolutely nobody glared at me or showed any other signs of suspicion once I entered the pharmacy. There were also no pieces of subhuman garbage inside the pharmacy, just decent people. I left upon purchasing my items and walked back home. I began hearing cars blow their horns in rhythmic patterns from all directions. I continued walking and heard somebody yell my name while passing a tavern. I stopped to look for the person and found a young man watching me while hiding behind a concrete wall, mounted to the side of a stairway. This person appeared to be White/Hispanic with short hair that may have been filled with hairspray or some other chemical product. I am estimating his approximate age range at twenty to twenty-three.

I fell asleep two hours later. I had awakened at eleven-twenty-five at night. I arose from my bed to have a meal and went to do my laundry after finishing. There's a small facility near my apartment building for tenets to do their laundry. I took my clothes to that facility and placed them inside the washer. After dispensing the detergent, I deposited quarters inside and pressed the Start button to activate the machine. The washer failed to start. I checked the back to see if it was plugged into the socket, it was as normal. I kept pushing the button to no avail. I immediately suspected that my stalkers were connected to the machine's lack of functioning. I was thinking that they used some type of electronic bug to disable the washer or one of their satellite guided microwave weapons. I finally gave-up and took my clothes out of the washer. I took my clothes back inside the apartment. I looked out the window to see if anybody comes inside to use the facility. Nobody entered the small building, but I did see a young man walk past the apartment complex and the laundry facility. The young man was walking from the same area where the basement is located. I first thought that he was visiting one of my neighbors, but now suspect that he used the fuse box to disable the washer. 

This individual is a White male, approximately nineteen to twenty-one years of age with an approximate height of five-foot, eight inches. He was slim with neck length dark hair and was wearing a black shirt and black shorts.

Just as the attacks described in the text message, I suspect that all of these other episodes were retaliation for some work I was conducting on my blog. I was working on a glossary of terms associated with organized stalking. This glossary will contain a mixture of already established terms and terms of my own invention. I was working on this glossary shortly before leaving for work and was confronted with a slight noise campaign.

My Initial Story: The Duke Street Invasion (aka Gang Stalked in Pennsylvania---Part One)

I recently submitted this story to Gang Stalking World and it is known there (providing it gets published) as Gang Stalked in Pennsylvania---Part One.

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My name is Robert Robey and I live in Lancaster, Pennsylvania USA. I have been a target of organized stalking since September 2008 and my situation begins on the one-hundredth block of North Duke Street in the city, which I currently live.

It started with a home invasion. I came home from work to find an empty Pepsi can lying on the floor of my apartment building's foyer area. I stared at the can wondering why somebody would leave it on the floor. My neighbor (from across the hall) and his girlfriend than came downstairs and told me that they heard noises inside my apartment while I was away. The neighbor also told me that he saw my door sitting open with the lights on and one of my cats poking his head out in the hallway. I went upstairs and entered my apartment to find every single closet and pantry door open along with items thrown all over the place. I called the police and waited for them after getting off the phone. While waiting, I heard my buzzard ring. I thought it was the police, so I came downstairs and nobody was at the door. I looked around and saw two Black men dressed in Hip-Hop clothing walk away from the building. They then went inside a red building down the street. I thought about confronting them, but decided to wait for the police instead. I went back inside the complex. The police did not arrive until four and half hours later even though their station was not even a block from me. I let them in when they did arrive and one Officer Matthew Caple greeted me. He came into my apartment to look around.

He asked me some questions with one of them being “do you have anything we can get fingerprints off of?”

I named an object that was solid (I cannot remember the type of object).

He replied by telling me that they can only get fingerprints from something soft.

I did not believe him, but accepted the answer.

My life passed as normal until two weeks later when I experienced another home invasion. I left my lights on regularly to fool intruders, but came home to find my living room light turned off. Since that day, I was arriving home to find my items relocated, vandalized, and occasionally stolen. I did have a friend (now ex-friend because he joined with the organized stalking group) install a deadbolt on my door. I had no home invasions since, but experienced high levels of street harassment mostly from Urban Trash. I had massive amounts of people giving me hostile looks and yelling insults toward me. I also experienced disturbances indicating that people were breaking into the building. There was one day when I placed a sign outside that said:

“Attention Low-Lives:

This building is private property. You are not to be in this building unless you have a legitimate reason to be here. That means “STAY THE FUCK OUT!”

I also entered a Spanish version of this statement using Microsoft Word's translation feature. The building only had three units and my neighbor from across the hall moved out, so it would not have caused any problems. I did however hear somebody outside the building say “look at this sign. Does he think that's going to stop us?” I then went outside three hours later and found it removed. The harassment stopped after awhile until November 3 (Election Day), 2008.

I entered my local courthouse to vote when I saw some people giving me dirty looks. There were two polltakers at the counter while the third one was out in the halls talking to somebody. I tried to get a ballot only to find myself ignored by the two polltakers. The third one then came inside the room and asked me if I needed a ballot, I answered “yes.” The third polltaker gave me a ballot and the other two gave me hostile looks. I took my ballot to a cubicle, wrote-in my preferred candidate (I did not care for Obama or McCain), and fed the ballot through the voting machine. The two polltakers continued giving me hostile looks as I left the polling place.

The next day, I heard two men yelling something to me as I entered my building upon returning home from work. I approached my apartment door and found a loose screw in the doorknob. I examined the screw for few seconds and entered the apartment. I went into my closet to retrieve an item (cannot remember the type of item) and found one of my boxes flipped over with the contents on the floor. I would since depart only to return and find additional disturbances to my apartment. I was experiencing this problem along with some street harassment, both covert and overt. There was even one episode when I left to do laundry at a Laundromat and returned home to find my jewelry thrown on the floor from my jewelry box. Prior to this disturbance, I saw a young man prowling my building, whom entered his car as soon as he saw me heading toward it. I decided to perform some counter-antagonism. My tactics did make him nervous, but he refused to leave until I started approaching his car to confront him. That is when he sped away. I became fearful that the intruders would kill and/or steal my cats, so I had my mother and sister take them. My mother also responded by trying to convince me to move back in with her. I refused to do that at first, but changed my mind later.

The stalking did not stop, it continued when I moved-in with my mother in a nearby---fifteen miles outside of Lancaster---town called Quarryville. It also continued when I moved to Rising Sun, Maryland and back to Lancaster. It continues to this day. I plan to tell you about my ordeal in Quarryville and Rising Sun in separate stories. For right now, I will disclose that my situation became worse since I left Lancaster in 2008 and moved back in late 2009. It escalated from home invasions upon departure to the use of electronic surveillance, “Non-Lethal” Weapons (NLW), and home invasions in my sleep that included sexual assault.

I suspect that nothing more than a network of criminals and pseudo-vigilantes performed the gang stalking when this first started, but then progressed to the government getting involved.