BBD – The Quick Note

Would you–if you were the target of a corrupt, powerful agency that funds itself by importing, manufacturing, and selling illegal drugs into its own country, that openly had assassinated American citizens, had tortured–reveal when they succeed in getting to you? Would you be that stupid? Or ballsy?

Well, I’m just sick enough of Groundhog Day to do just that.

Let me back up a bit. Due to the extreme harassment I received beginning in December of 2009–the goal of which as I’ve pointed out time and again including my Reddit IAMA–was to make me go postal: That is, to do something violent over which they could further justify more harsh measures, increase their “market share” of terror suspects to include LGBTQetc, and remove me, a witness to illegal activities, from the playing board all at the same time.

Due to that harassment, I never really–after all these years–had the time and luxury of processing the end of my 14.5 year long term relationship. I am assuming the incessant dreams, going on since June or July or so, are a message for me to acknowledge this fact. I don’t know or understand why. I’m just doing it in the hopes that they stop.

More probably the Langley Shit Dragon will instead redouble them. This is because it’s made of shit and run by shitty small-hearted psychos who only care about pampering people like their contractors Erik Prince and Jeff Bezos. They’re everything they’ve ever called any enemy and then some. They’ve interfered in US elections and it doesn’t even get mentioned in MSM. They’ve, again, assassinated American citizens–not really a secret, just not discussed–and doesn’t warrant a mention. It’s not just destroying and undermining democracies worldwide, CIA does it at home as well with FBI’s help.

But I seem to have gotten off-topic.

Right. Never married. We could have I suppose. Had friends who went out of state to do that. Why didn’t we? Well, I’m reasonably certain that this whole thing was planned quite a ways in advance. Too many old psychological landmines exploding all over. I had a friend who seemed to go bonkers and run off; he had a friend at UIUC who did that same. Despite being–in between just being dazzled, drugged and confused–aware of the old friend’s situation, there was nothing I could do to stop the same happening to me. Not a single damn thing. It like these was a constant, overwhelming army of spooks out there making sure it all went sideways.

And so it’s only now, the distraction of constant wariness due to this or that crisis coming and going or just coming and lingering for weeks on end, a lull in this ill-advised, self-defeating and ultimately pointless and fruitless–for both CIA and myself!–“war” that I have the time, the luxury of time, to consider the only thing I lost that really mattered to me; the only relationship in my life that ever really worked.

And how I’m the one who brought him to NYC where he went from job to job to wind up at Google. Google is, and from what I can now tell, always was, a surveillance project that combined itself with advertising. Get the consumer to pay for his own surveillance, not unlike getting Americans to pay for illegal CIA ops by purchasing illicit drugs from CIA, mostly unwitting, assets.

And, jumping back to the personal, of course that leads you back to…what am I calling him now? Mr. Crutch might be the most appropriate. The one who got me over the hump that is the real point of this post assuming there actually is one.

Well. There it is then.

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