HALLS WALLS,
CHAPTER 27
I am very tired. I am
on a high dosage of other OTC stuff that is aiding me a small bit in
fighting the symptoms of my hypothyroidism, these being lots of
anxiety, inability to function normally, and so on. This leaves me
tired, but chocking with less severity and less other bad symptoms
that make one feel really horrible. I am not taking the two
anti-psych drugs that the psychiatrist prescribed to me back last
Friday up in Vero Beach at the Treasure Coast Behavior Health Center.
But I did learn a huge thing from the head sike-dock there. It seems
another huge alteration occurred in the medical industry, right after
going to my doctor who jokingly I refer to as Doctor Omar; and you
need to be made aware of what this all was about. It
is more ME being covertly MURDERED, if you want it all summed
up in a short true sentence. But here is what happened. As you know,
no doctor can write the medication that I took for 31 years, at a 28
milligram weekly dosage. But during my last visit to the doctor, up
to about half of this was still permitted. Anything 14 Mg weekly and
up is considered to be a ''psychiatric dosage''. I was not even going
to get that, but rather, a mere 7Mg weekly or one milligram tablet
each day before retiring to bed. I was willing to take a 75% dosage
cut, after being on this for 31 years, and having about ten of my
conditions totally cured with virtually zero bad side effects. But
that wasn't good enough you see, for my MILITUFORCE ENEMIES, kind
people. They want me dead and slowly lingering in agony until death
eventually must come. To accomplish that, I need a full cut off. So
after I left Doctor Omar's office on the first week in February,
about two months ago, with a promise to fill this medicine so that I
could pick it up at my local Walgreen's Pharmacy, on Ohio Avenue and
US Highway 1 intersection; only this never came and I would keep
trying to get it, and nothing. The dirt bag doctor would never tell
me what happened, to me at least, proving a huge evil monstrous
collusion was indeed quite real, and going on around me; between my
own doctor, who is supposed to be looking out for me and my health;
and the medical community, and their murderous power structure
establishment. Now, the medical establishment power structures, all
quickly got together and forever wipe out my being able to live in
America. The doctor group that I was with, only does computer
pharmaceutical phone in orders, no more paper-scrips. So right after
my appointment two months back, I may have left there, with Doctor
Omar promising to allow me to have my 1Mg daily Lorazepam meds; but
the law was then changed again, making writing this medication on
notebook prescription pads, the only way for it to be prescribed;
knowing that my particular medical people refuse doing that. They
would never tell me this, but I learned all of this last Friday, over
at the sike ward appointment. So whoever parked next to my car with
that million dollar looking van that obviously slipped that
flier-note, underneath my drivers side windshield wiper; already knew
about the law, and was there to further let me know I would just be
wasting my time going to the Behavior Health Clinic, back last
Friday. They were right on the money. This is why for the past
twenty-thirty years, I sit back and don't even try doing anything any
more. I can't win. I am in an oppressive evil empire, where I have
very powerful enemies, whose number one motive and goal and reason
for getting up in the dam morning, is to wipe me out and destroy my
entire life, every single facet of it; and do it totally covertly and
invisibly, of course!
If you don't GET
IT yet, that I can try and try and try forever, and not ever be able
to do one little thing, be it socially, be it financially, you name
it, education as in what happened to me at the computer class up at
the Harvest place, back in 2011, be it medically, in 1983, 1984,
2014, and 2015, and on and on and on and on, this could go, and no
there, hacker trash; not AN-DON. Save a place for me over in
wonderful Russia, Mister ES. I need to escape this land of horrors
myself, and you of all people sir; know this is the
truth!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jane
fucking Whore Slutbag Notfondauonebit just cunt chewing nailed me
with HER ONES ASSAULT.
MARCH
31, 2015,
TUESDAY
MORNING AT 12:13,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 54 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 93%, IT FEELS LIKE 53 DEGREES.
RANGE
ON MONDAY---------(H-73/L-46)
NEAR
CALM ENE WINDS OCCASSIONALLY GUSTING TO 8.
I
learned what happened to the few possessions that belonged to me
rightfully and legally, back when I escaped the Stockholm Syndrome
Kidnapping in middle December of 2009, up in Jersey, and ran away in
the dead of night, down here to Fort Pierce, Florida. Ann called a
Good Will store that we all used to go to a lot, up in
Hammonton-Berryville, New Jersey. They went a truck and took
everything, my tapes, audio and video, my electronic stuff, and
numerous things. Ann kept my 5,000 dollar television set for herself,
and her son Joe came and took my gigantic stereo system. So just as I
found a VHS tape at my local Fort Pierce Good Will Store that once
was made 20 years ago by a distant cousin and other distant family
people, many other people have unfathomable things that once were
mine, and now, are forever gone and lost to me. Good Will gave some
of my video tapes to the Salvation Army. How do I know that? This
will be a real horse buck for you, and below you are tons of jagged
rocks. I no sooner came to this town and was living in the northern
part of it in a section called 'White City'. The maintenance man at
the RV and Mobile Home Park, called Manatee Park, on Route US Highway
1, a dude by the name of Danny; gave me a TV that someone just left
in a trailer when they disappeared in the night without paying their
rent. He knew I was living here with nothing but the clothes on my
back. He told me where I could get for just a few dollars, at a local
pawn shop, a cheapo little DVD-VCR machine. I also purchased the
connecting wires at a cut rate dollar store place for two dollars. I
plugged the machines in, and was good to go for watching any DVD or
VHS stuff. The trouble was I had nothing. I began getting the fifty
cent tapes here and there at the local Salvation Army, and I rented
other movies on tape or DVD at the local library, after joining. It
amazes me but they allowed me to join with my New Jersey Driver
License. I'll bet in just the past few years, things have changed for
the worst, and I would have been screwed. I had no money at all to
change tags, and fortunately, no one bothered me until I moved out of
white City an dup into the hood of 26th Street and Avenue
E, and through social worker April Lee, was able to eventually get my
tags and drive legally. It wasn't like I was driving on a bad
license, and was planning to use 'deny-ability', if ever stopped
before I could make good. But thank the fire gods that never needed
to happen. We all know that ignorance to the law is never an excuse
for it being violated. Still, this excuse was all I had, and thank
heaven; I never needed to use it. It is OK for them to murder me
using my medical condition against me ever since 1983, but don't let
me so much as breathe bad breath on some officer of the court. As
stated before, if you don't get the movie called, “JFK” with
director Oliver Stone, with Kevin Costner, made in 1992; then you are
missing out on how these blogs are telling you such a powerful and
true story here.
I
have officially changed doctors, the primary care providing doctor of
(PCP). I have a new one. If this one will not allow me to take a half
mill pill every eight hours, under the psychiatric dosage, as it
works out to 1.5 Mg daily, then I am going to do all that I can to
get him to examine and treat me for my thyroid. If this fails
however, in middle April; then I must make an appointment up in
Jacksonville at Mayo Clinic. If that fails, I need to pack up for TJ,
MEXICO; and from there; see what I can do about getting far away from
this horrible place, that hates me so much, and then renounce my
citizenship, and hope to be received in some nation that is not
favorable to the United States. I never asked for this war with these
scoundrels from hell, but people; I sure have found myself in it;
and I do not plan on going out without a fight.
Now
another powerful punch is coming ,in this hard hitting one-two-combo
punch, so get ready to kiss the mat, my friends. Both the 17 day and
the 27 day in March, had extremely weird page hit results, according
to the stats up on my dashboard at the Google owned Blogger Web-site.
One day, and you all saw this as I posted it; I had a spike go up
like the Tower of Babel, and on the other day, I had a totally zero
count. Hay, I am not going to force people to take more notice to
coincidences. I cannot change you, nor do I want to. Besides, you may
disagree with me, and be the one who is right. See how open minded I
can be, despite my dam knowing the extremely high mathematical odds,
for my being the one who is correct about this?????? People defy high
odds constantly every time they win a huge lottery jackpot like MM
and PB. I actually want to be wrong. But I know I am
right!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please try seeing this logically, kind folks.
Being wrong would only serve to make my life a whole lot better in
the long run. I would love to be dam ass wrong.
Last
night I had powerful interactions. I cannot pull up too many details.
It had a lot of parts to it, and a lot of fogged out parts that made
it very mysterious. I met some goddess and I don't just mean a
gorgeous beyond hot giant young girl. I mean some real goddess came
right to me and told me she was a goddess, and even showed me that
she was with certain things she was able to do. She and I were both
in a large vehicle like a private bus, and she insisted that I go
with her to speak to someone. We got to some place up north where I
used to live, and we got out and went to some place I never saw
before. A few minutes later, the door opens and in walks the girl
that back in 1989 was the registered owner of the DMV New Jersey
license plate, “Italy 7”. This is the driver who harassed me back
when I was living at 1102 Robin Hill, my second of three stays at
this apartment complex, called ROBIN HILL. She told me I am lucky she
didn't beat my ass for getting in her way that day back late in the
eighties. I told her I was only driving normally down Evesham Road
southerly after crossing the White Horse Pike, and you were screwing
with me, and wanting me to somehow go faster when all of the cars
ahead of me were moving slowly, and I had nothing to do with setting
the pace of the road. She then walked over to me and grabbed my hair
hard, pulled it, and spit right on my nose. She said no one gives
this family any bullshit. I stood up to walk out of the room that I
was in, the slobber drooping down and falling off the bottom of my
nose onto my chin and still dripping. I walked out onto a place I
never was at, and kept walking, wondering why the goddess who led me
into this mess, wasn't following me. Suddenly I was just back in the
apartment I was living in from that era of my life, 1102 Robin Hill.
I was standing inside but the apartment was not mine, and was all
decorated differently with stuff I had never seen before. The goddess
who refused to tell me her name, finally sat down on a couch that was
bright red, totally ostentatious looking for the rest of the
furniture and the white pained walls of the apartment. I sat down and
she took my hand. She smirked and giggled and finally said to me that
ESS does not just do the few things that I have been made privy too,
but numerous other things as well. When I begged her to be more
specific, she said that if I close my eyes, I'll find myself back in
1973, in my old Oaklyn apartment on Oakland Avenue. I did this and
instantly, there I was, only not sitting but laying on my bed in my
bedroom. The calendar was the same one I had hanging on my wall, and
it said, 1973. My windows were wide open, the drapes pulled out, and
I could see clearly, the street outside. A car came driving down the
small street, and the radio inside of the car, was playing Bill
Cosby's brand new hit song, “The Candyman Can”, and this was as
clear as me sitting here right now tying this to my blog. Then a
voice came out of nowhere, and it was not the goddess who indirectly
brought me back to 1973 and to this apartment, but of Diana, my
Lightning. She began showing me a simple trick to do for transporting
myself 24 hours ahead or behind my current actual time, any time that
I ever may wish to do that. It was child's play. It seemed so simple
and was beyond cool, and it worked. But after coming out of the
experience; my knowledge was not there. I have all the feelings, and
I have all the memory of this experience; but I do not have the
entire package brought back from that parallel universe. It was so
dam easy to do. This really took you there physically, it was sort of
a trance but it was more than a trance. You really did travel. It
involved a small little gismo however, and I do remember that much.
In fact, the gismo needs to be attached to a landline telephone. I do
not remember too much more, other than this was major.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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