I grew up with hardcore feminists from different eras of the postmodern generation. In the ‘90s, as a teenager, I was mauled by the “Teen C” Bis listener generation, a cartel of public school girls from the City of London school for Girls. I really liked their chutzpah and humour. Carla Mackinnon has always been somebody whose expression and statements I admire. She’s a very funny person - she fainted on the floor the first time she met me. It was like something out of pride and prejudice, she just disappeared into a puddle of rouched curtain, like somebody had turned her dress inside out all of a sudden, making a billowing crater of lace, like she’d fallen into the earth. Fainting like that isn’t good, and we had no smelling salts.
Today she’s an expert in narcolepsy - the “night hag”, or the dream demon. She knows about the shadow, man.
It was a pretty toxic politic, loads of mess and “you can / you can’t”. A labyrinth of molestation and trauma. An atmosphere like “the great terror” after the french revolution - there’s no rules, and no trust. It’s the opposite of a cognoscenti society of gender relations. It’s all just “queer”, uncomfortable. My lot are from the “politically correct” brainwashing era of New Labour and Thatcher. The serious Lord Saatchi entertainments.
We’re from the generation which was commanded to celebrate homosexuality and racists who obviously hate the english, whether we like it or not. I grew up in a school playground populated by kids from warzones who spoke minimal english, and didn’t want to learn. An inversion of the prior era’s conservatism, but with the same sort of authoritarian enforcement agenda. “Be nice kids”.
And these feminist girls from City of London school for girls, they were funny and cool, and seriously cynical about the whole nonsense, they were just minds, at the very best of times, and we laughed about it. They were pretty alcoholic and cut themselves a lot. A lot of their mothers had got sucked into heavy pharmaceutical drugs. It wasn’t making sense intellectually to me. It has a flavour of ketones, a female logic that’s histrionic like bubblegum toxic. The era of Kate Moss, Heroin Chic, and Kurt Kobain’s loss. The teletubbies era trashheap.
WE WERE ALL FROM SINGLE SEX SCHOOLS, AND HAD BEEN SUBJECTED TO ACADEMIC BATTERY FARMING INSTEAD OF REAL LIVES. WE WERE NOT PROPER HUMANS, AND WE KNEW IT. THE “WHITE MAN’S DISEASE” of “DEPRIVATIONAL PRIVILEGE”.
To be quite frank, women take themselves very much too seriously these days, and the “unhappy customer” and complaining about “not being given enough of what they want, or having their needs properly undersood” is a typical condition.
“My ego needs stroking” is a condition that affects most people. You should do your own maintenance if you want to be “well coiffed”.
Making sexuality the "forbidden fruit" is the monetisation of sex. It is the psychiatric bully chamber. The lab rat food-fuel. The motivational control, the socioeconomic autonomic nervous system lever. The T control. The Test process. The dopamine regulation. The addiction master switch.
The marketplace of sexuality. The agency effect. Who controls this agency? who is the top of the “mating game food chain”?
In the industrial world, Jordan Peterson considers himself Alpha and Omega. He helps the rich to become “masters of the art of emotional fortification and chemically enhanced stoicism”. McGill is famous like the CIA in certain circles, same with Tavistock and the gender bending “hormone therapy” that they used to softkill Turing.
I’m a project and a half. I’ve got a “highlight” that’s visible in a lot of corporate CCTV systems on the main monitor. Green box on my head… nobody else in the store. Why is that?
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This is the book that paid for my childhood - my mother’s first novel had to be published under a fake name:
A while back, in the ‘80s and ‘90s, before the TCP/IP security hole and “GWOT era mobbing”, I was a top talent in the fine art, media and broadcast industry, one that was generally well liked and popular, somebody respected rather than somebody “annoyingly capable”.
Cute kid helps being one of the “he makes it look easy” guys, but brought up under the “rod of iron” feminist schoolmistress… I had more than a little impostor syndrome and CPTSD, but to be truthful, my spirit and experience as a londoner… pure sunshine. Even in the deepest rain, the dampest and the coldest. It’s fun. London is the darkest.
After I got poisoned in December 2003, and couldn’t see or think straight, or feel my thumbs… or feet… I was fairly vulnerable to abuse. These people who were associates, frenemies and bullies, really, well they went hard on giving me the “Caesar in the Garden” exit clause, and headed up the government beanstalk. Being married into the Johnsons, and being “competitive in the media game by bullying X marks the spot Wizard here… a ‘mock trustafarian’ with a total lack of testosterone and masculinity…. according to the REVENGE PORN SERIES of notorious LONDON BOOTS AT HEATHROW AIRPORT fame.
Judas type machiavellian-pervert “I just love to trick people” type people are a particular sort. Always hungry, wanting to take over. I was REALLY NOT WELL. Try 650mg of ketamine or PCP and imagine that all day every day with no sleep, and you’re somewhere in the ball park of FQ toxicity syndrome as an experience. In the hands of my chinese doctor, I slowly recovered in my mid ‘30s, but the loss of fitness and the fallout has been ongoing. I’m now turning myself into TERMINATOR / XMEN shit. I literally do not give a fuck. I shouldn’t even be walking, but the basic “boundary push” conditioning is the secret to rising above a grievous metabolic poisioning. You just build it back stronger, or do without.
My adult career has been being physically, emotionally and sexually humiliated. Kept tired, broke, and sexless. Made a public exhibition of. The worst things staged, analyed and pored over. Proper “IJIME” for somebody who sticks out in London because they’re actually from here.
MY MUM HAS BULLIED ME SEVERELY AND MADE SURE I CAN’T ATTEND UNIVERSITY, DRIVE, DATE, GO DANCING, PROGRESS MY CAREER, MAKE MONEY, GET MY OWN PLACE, OR DO ANY ADULT THINGS. FAILURE IS THE PUNISHMENT // THE EXCELLENCE iS “MINE’.
Her methods are “engulfment and control”, and she finds the adrenaline of seeing a man go down for the count and lose his OMG… and start sobbing or raging… she finds this “rather exiting”. The blood gets pumping, she gets euphoric and competitive.
“SORRY… LOOKS LIKE YOU CAN’T LIVE YOUR LIFE BECAUSE YOUR SHOELACES ARE TIED TOGETHER / YOU WERE MISSING YOUR SOCKS / SHOES / YOU COULDN’T SLEEP / YOU LOST YOUR WALLET BECAUSE YOU WERE BEING HARASSED WHILE LEAVING THE BUILDING
I’ve had to do it “totally solo”, with no licenses or qualifications. I’ve had to manhandle equipment on trolleys, and it wasn’t possible to work as a musician without transport. To be honest, with any big operation, being “mr clipboard” is the way forwards, you don’t want to be flying with anything more than hand luggage.
I was an excellent driver, but out of spite my mum cancelled my lessons and the test. I can operate most machinery, I’ve put a lot of work into my touch ergonomics and scientific engineering disciplines. A wheel is basically a wheel, right… [w[
Made to be the pedestrian? I’m basically “light infantry” by nature, I like to walk, but I’ll use anything. Horses, boats, whatever, I prefer really naughty superb little ones. Being Made to walk and manhandle everything, it’s a fitness program, and having no vehicle to transport myself, equipment or others, it’s taught me lots about endurance and physical loading, and the necessity of lightness and ruggedness. It wants to be F1/ north shore mountain bike thinking to be durable and fast, and move efficiently. Too much weight is inertia. Soft weight is useless - try carrying a 40kg bag of potters clay around and you’ll see what I mean.
The other problem with the car situation was having been set up with an insurance fraud rear end by the weird gangster Op company at westbournse studios, likely something that Omar Boom and his uncle set up with the “A team” or whatever it is they work for, most likely, or some sort of grimbola crime gang connected to the NY mafia and Omar’s “Uncle MARDI”.
My chief stalker Omar Boom’s mentor was his uncle. A definite psychopath and career criminal. MR PRISON GAY RAPIST in a hard man’s tracksuit, the ready rapist aggressive sociopath vibe, he called me “a fag” to my face the first time he met me. The unblinking stare and humiliating rudeness, the immediate classist abuse of his attitude towards my style. The maliciousness of his vibe presented to me as exceptional by anything I’d encountered in London, a bit of an achievement to stick out among the yardies and assorted horror show people of Ladbroke grove, and certainly not anything extra scary, I’m bulletproof and disinterested permanently due to the sabotage and general oppression of sleep and tiredness/hazing inducing by my mum’s sinister HAZING/GASLIGHTING / anti men campaign, and I’m not part of the class warfare of admin, I have no papers at all. All qualifications, credentials and official positions have been denied, even though my performance during the courses attending these sorts of methods was typically excellent, and nobody had any worries that I might not be competent.
In truth, I’ve been bulled by the “men are pigs” era, but the truth is that my mum is dynamite, and would be bossy and mean no matter what era. She’s competitive and bossy. She’s a queen among women, and everybody knew it. Looks to die for, skills that are beyond elite. A master magician. Miss flexible, she’ll beat the boys at most things. A woman that can fight is a serious business.
Unfortunately the hubris was evident. She enjoyed “beating the boys” and making my generation REDUNDANT. NO MASCULINITY REQUIRED. SORRY… NOT NEEDED. FORGET ABOUT IT. UGH… MEN.
Sabotaged and bullied by a combative feminist who believes that “artificial insemination is the future, men are basically obsolete, women can run everything now, post heavy industry, men are psychologically piss poor… easy to manipulate and bully. They’re emotionally volatile and weak, the ‘tits on a boar’ now”. Women are nicer, prettier, better behaved and basically peaceful and sensible - whereas Men are awful, men are the problem, they’re everything that’s awful with the world. They are the war problem, they shouldn’t have been permitted to be born in such numbers. All the crimes - committed by men. They’re violent, stupid and unpleasant. It’s incredible they survived at all, quite frankly. Just look at you, you can’t even do the slightest things, like change the bedclothes, or wash. Those are prohibited for dirty boy.
We women, we don’t really want any men interfering in our lives. We’re truly fabulous, and the facade is impenetrable. But… you know… a decent man in the proper context would be quite sufficient for the ladies. Only a few really make the cut, but you wouldn’t know about that….
Some of the men… my mum burbles occasionally when she’s got herself into the ecstasy zone, and is feeling secure… men are… at a push… occasionally “quite sexy” as an entertainment. Nice to see them dance. Some of them have a certain ‘Je ne sais quois’.
She inverts the “sexy secretary” model, and imposes it on MEN ARE PIGS. They’re “basically useless” but kinda ornamental. She’s the “real commander”.
The glass ceiling is transferred to me, for postmodern “sub-lady” quality nunnery operations. I’m treated like a “faulty woman” not a male. In the cyberbullying domain, they’ve got me cast as an “aspiring woman”.
In prison gangs, turning a “weak man” into a “woman” is the psychology. Turning a man into a “wife”, and controlling their every move. Forcing them into submission. This is a serious problem in South Africa, and the emasculation of males and endocrine disruption is a primary concern of homo sapiens, and the majority of primates.
You have to imagine my mum being given the “you’re a secretary at best” treatment by insecure male chauvinists with a much lower IQ than she, and the rage she feels. The war she was winning by the time I turn up in the ‘80s.
How involuntary her battering ram of “I’m wearing the boots in this business” is? It’s her world view. And I’ve been on the “receiving end”. It’s been really quite abusive, quite frankly.
No dignity, very feisty and superior. Living in a fiction where my mum is the big boss of everything… and my problems are simply to be endured and worked around. I spent a lot of time wandering around london, keeping quiet and observing, carrying a 40lb bag of books and a guitar case, or a pile of cricket gear. I was severely sleep deprived and food-bullied as a child. Punishment - but you have to act nice. Be “perfect” despite the continual harassment.
Fucked over, made to feel like an outcast with no friends. Kept totally broke, with no chance of any trust or intimacy. My reputation being carved like a chicken by school bullies connected to the Bullingdon Club, and the Conservative Association. They stalk, harass and mock me. They arrange all types of humiliation to make me look like the “weak white guy who is desperate to be friends with the REALLY HEAVY PEOPLE FROM THE OLD WORLD - WE ARE MACHIAVELLI - YOU WILL DIE”. A lot of people are here to play dirty, London is not a “play fair” environment today. Maybe it never was…
Deauthorised and ijime’d. Made to feel like I don’t fit because I look like the people who used to live here, associated with the “authority” that was “debunked by WOKE” and the playing of the victim. The british are blamed for everything in africa, everything in India. We’re “what went wrong with america”. We’re “everybody’s favourite punchbag”.
There’s been an organised campaign. Of control, videography, planted actors and staged incidents. A stalker manipulation. A send-up. A way of making me look like a writeoff, and celebrating my isolation and total poverty. My mother gloats at being my OWNER. The one tasked with RECONDITIONING THE FAILURE TO BE A MAN - TURNING HIM INTO A BUTLER SLAVE WITH NO SOCIAL RESPECT.
I can’t even make a phonecall or change my clothes in private. My mum does not allow privacy or personal boundaries, and resets my manhood to “childish at best”. She liked me best when I was six or seven. Making me ask permission to use a staple, or to cut a piece of paper with scissors.
Or maybe before I could talk. The child was “not good enough” but the adult is “DIGUSTING”, “CRIMINAL”, and “PROHIBITED”. The problem is “my complaints”. I should “learn to like it”, and “stop worrying”.
The financial abuse and controlling limitation, making it a “detention for life” experience, it’s sadistic. I know what the agenda is, and it’s better if I opt out and disappear completely.
“go away you worthless piece of shit” is my mother’s “real emotion” - she gets STONEWALL and locks the door in your face. You’re getting told, not getting talked with. If you tell her a good idea, she gets angry and jealous and says “OF COURSE, I KNEW THAT ALREADY< WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?.
She’s a bully and a stonewalling abuser. Control is absolute in her view, and it’s required. Control is not something subordinates are allowed, and they must not think themselves competent to breathe unsupervised. I’m done. I’m done with the abuse. I left at 17, but being forced to return under duress because of lockdown, and be told “you’re talking too much” or “what do you need £10 for… you’re such a spendthrift… you’re probably taking drugs… you’re financially and socially irresponsible… you can’t be allowed near a shop or a public theatre unsupervised. No unsupervised talking. No unsupervised living.”. At 40-something, the agenda is clear - I’m expected to give up on any idea of buying my own place or having a love life. That was specifically blocked, and that happened at every juncture. I’m out of senior relatives to inherit things from, and my Mum has “taken charge” of everything. and excluded me from participating. “You’d only mess it up” is the attitude. I’m failed based upon the assumptions.
I have no privacy, and no life at this point. It’s publicly celebrated, and there have been strategically places cameras in my house, streaming what I do to the “privileged observers” who paid for the project at the outset.
In terms of why people might think it’s OK to do this, it’s because I’m “government property” so to speak. It’s complex, and that’s a sinster form of “clandestine slavery” to be used as a video entertainment by bullies, a form of “reality TV for the big boys”. We are talking the top of the political food chain in england, and some of the most powerful and wealthy interests who have espionage on the payroll, and they like to get naughty and have a bit of playtime. I’m the “Chew toy”, not an assassination target. I’d be dead long ago if I was. I was poisoned not killed, and there’s a reason for that. I’m expensive equipment.
Both my mum and I, nor my grandmother either know quite what they have been doing behind the scenes, or what secret programs we plug into on the medical / high performance weapons grade / human engineering level. It’s very much the black highlighter / SS project paperclip zone. MKULTRA is BIG. MKULTRA is the laboratory network. MK ULTRA is not just the internet, it’s big surveillance. It’s drugs. It’s behaviour. It’s MIND CONTROL technology.
I’m out. Done. End of. I’m leaving. I’m not tolerating being watched continually and subjected to this sort of humiliation. Achieving any sort of privacy will be very hard. I’m giving up on privacy, but I am controlling what my appearance is, and when I appear. You will find it very hard to track me. Very, very hard. I’ll be employing professional magic and tradecraft systems, and it’ll take a pile of passports. I’ll have to become a political refugee and an espionage consultant, and I need residency and papers for a few different countries to keep an eye on what my alma mater is up to.
Here’s my current nationalities:
UNITED KINGDOM (BRITISH NATIONAL)[LONDON/WESTMINSTER]
NIGERIAN
I will probably add:
SWISS
MONTENEGRAN
FRENCH
IRISH
GUATAMALA
ECUADOR
PERU
BELIZE
CHINA
JAPAN
SOUTH KOREA
THE QUESTION IS… WHICH OF THE ABOVE HAVE THE ESPIONAGE CLOUT TO WORK OUT… WHY I NEED A PASSPORT? THAT’S THE SELECTION CRITERION.
SHOULD I GO TO THE UNITED STATES FOR HELP< OR TO ASSIST? […] THE ONI BEEN AWARE OF ME FOR A WHILE NOW. [I MAY BE “PRODUCT” /ive? /WEaver.associates]
THAT GREY PASSPORT, IT COMES WITH CONDITIONS. IT LIVES IN A SAFE AT THE NSA, AND IS TO BE DELIVERED BY AN ONI OFFICER IN CASE OF DIRE EMERGENCY. THE FIRE ESCAPE IS INSIDE THE BUILDING, AND I LIKE TO LURK. “I COULD BE INTERESTED” IS MY MIDDLE NAME. MY UK CREDENTIALS ARE ALRIGHT, I HOPE. MY USA VISA APPLICATION IS UNHELPFUL AT THE BEST OF TIMES>
The people who made and trained me, they’ve not made the best use of my skills. I’ve been abused on the most disgusting level. MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD.
MY MUM… IS AN ACCOMPLICE OF THE MACHINE/ SHE”’S [-ss][verykinky] / [undercover] / [notellingwhatshe’sreallyupto]
WE ARE ALL PRODUCT. THE GOVERNMENT LOOK INTO OUR EVERY MOTION. THEY MONITOR OUR EVERY FOOTSTEP.
IT’S NOT JUST A LITTLE BIT BIG BROTHER IN HERE…
I’M FROM THE DOLPHIN SQUARE SCENE.
I’VE GOT FED UP OF THE WITHOLDING AND THE CONTROL ENDEMIC TO ENGLISH GOVERNMENT AND BUSINESS. THE WORKHOUSE VIBES. THE HUMILIATION AND THE REDUCTION OF SCOPE. THE DEPRIVATION OF HYGIENE. THE DEPRIVATION OF SLEEP. THE ATTRITION. THE VICTIMISATION.
THE BEING FORCED TO LIVE LIKE A VAGRANT. BEING CALLED “A DOSSER”.
THE “YOU ARE LOSING YOUR STUFF IN THE STREET” EXHAUSTION. THE STAGING OF PUBLIC EVENTS TO SEPARATE YOU FROM ANY SOCIAL LIFE YOU MIGHT DEVELOP.
THE HUMILIATION AND FINANCIAL ABUSE CAMPAIGN BEGINS AT HOME, WHEN I’M A LITTLE KID. THE FEMINISTIC AGGRESSION, THE CONTINUAL EMASCULATION AND HUMILIATION, THE DEPRIVATION AND PSYCHO-SOCIAL REPRESSION. THE UNLOVE. THE DISRESPECT.
THE COVERT PHYSICAL BULLYING - THE METABOLIC HEALTH ASSAULT. THE SLEEP DEPRIVATION. THE HOSTILITY. THE UNDERMINING. THE CONSTANT ACCUSATION OF BEING “A LIAR” AND UNTRUSTWORTHY.
I’ve told her to keep the house, keep the money. Leave everything to my younger brother. The point is to deprive me of any future or wealth, and that’s the agenda. I’m out. You want to bully me out of the money? Take it. Seriously. It’s a license to abuse me, and financially control me. A carrot to dangle, and use to justify the humiliation, spying, facilitation of social stalking and humiliation. The “gratuitous airing of dirty laundry”
The reputational damage, social sabotage and sexual harassment. Keeping me as a “doormat” in perpetuity, and using me as a “punchbag”. My boots will walk all over you.
My mum is now my “assigned bully” and I have no privacy, and no scope for socialising or sexuality. I am denied autonomy, finances or privacy. I have to be “in detention as a 12 year old forever”.
I am now a carer for a geriatric schoolmistress for one - my adult life and career is “not important”. I’m a “rejected male”, who “didn’t make it to university”.
So… Take that financial abuse and imprisonment agenda away, all in one deal. It’s a license to disrespect? Cool, you keep it. I won’t take a fucking penny. I’m better off making my own way, or just travelling the world on foot. Walking and sleeping in a bush has more dignity than this “continual detention” boarding school feminist hall monitor “beat the boys” abuse.
At 17 I explained, when she burst in and yelled at me for the millionth time… I told her that I’ve had enough of being financially abused, and that I’m out. end of Finished. Don’t bother, leave it all to my brother.
She complained.
“Giving up your share of the house is no good to me… you being financially deprived won’t help me - I won’t be around to enjoy the deprivation and loss.
I need you here where I can abuse you… if you leave, sure you’ll lose out on the house, and I like to think you’ll suffer, and you’re programmed to self-destruct by default, I’ve conditioned you to EXIT rather than SUFFER, but I want you to STAY and BE TORTURED. Stay on the line, stay hopeful that you’ll one day be free. If I just quit and say “I’ll cut my losses, you quit financially abusing me and leave everything to my brother. I’m disowning myself”.
She complains that she won’t be there to witness my suffering. If I leave, she won’t get the supply, and she needs an assistant as she’s getting older. She needs a lifter and a porter.
Me losing out? Fine, but my escape is prohibited. She wants to witness my humiliation continually. NARCISSISM AND BPD is a bitch… but 160IQ and goodness knows what else from the SS’s “limited supplies” in what hospital were applied. She doesn’t know either, but she suspects.
I should stay and be deprived and humiliated further.
Writing myself out of a meagre will in the context of the credit crunch and HYPERINFLATION… it’s a mug’s game, and it’s making me ill. My mum poisons my food, and deprives me of medical healthcare. It’s more than a bit STOCKHOLM/MUNCHAUSEN/.
She complains “you can leave, but I’ll be sore. I would prefer to abuse you while I’m still alive”. “no inheritance is good, but I will only get that result after I’ve died!!!… it’s an inferior result.
You see.. I’m a sadist.. I need the supply. I need to TORTURE you daily and RULE YOUR LIFE. It isn’t just micromanagement, it’s fulltime harassment and being judged harshly for whatever you’re doing. Everything has to be on display to be targeted for derision.
I look at her like “time is the only thing that’s worth anything… I’m leaving, and that’s the end of the story. Stop financially abusing me and running a theatre script of lies and manipulations, and basdically confiscating anything of any financial or emotional value. As for the ‘secret surveillance’ and the “stuff we don’t talk about” and the connaught hotel… well now. Momma expects me to see her as /A but really she’s /B to /Z-bra.
I cannot live in this fictional and falsified “duty system” insisted rule-bound complaints and compliances, instead of a real family" which involves no real truth, intimacy or authentic communication. The “real person” my mum is, I never met. I meet her “mom persona”. I was always “at arm’s length”.
That’s how stupid this stuff is, but I’m no longer playing ball. Less than nothing is less than nothing, and NOTHING is a whole lot of space in today’s world. No debt is pretty cool, and at the moment I don’t have tendinitis and I can see mostly pretty great.
My mum complained about me writing myself out of the will, and saying “you keep everything, stop financially bullying me and treating my life as your playpen.
“You can’t leave, you have to play the game! Of “maybe one day I might let you…”
I’m not allowed to leave, or to decline the financial abuse, and to end the “divide and rule game”. Give me nothing. Let me go.
She complained “you can’t have that power, you will have to wait to move out until I die…
I will get a few decades of carer and aggression, then get to be an undergraduate bachelor at 80… with no parents and no friends!!!”. I’m already in my mid 40s, but I have the economic stature of a 15 year old post lockdown. The stalkers and cyberbullies have graphs of what’s been done to me, and how my “ability to perform” has been deleted by the organised campaign of control and bully-mobbing.
My mum complains… “you can’t leave, or give up any financial stake in the one bedroom basement flat in a gentrified slum…. played off against my younger brother for “who gets to be the good kid”.
“but I won’t get to abuse you… if I rob you but from the grave… by depriving you of an inheritance, I get no benefit! I want to rob you while you’re alive! If you leave… even penniless… you’ve escaped! I want to control you. You’ll never escape. I’ll make sure you never make your own life, and find a woman of your own to raise some kids with. Nope. You’re not making those moves. You’re a child, not a parent. You would never be able to handle any of this. Being a PARENT - SO ANGRY. Children are SO HARD TO CONTROL.
It’s obviously Financial Control, with a pyschopathic bully - “daddy’s favourite and only girl… the one who could beat all the brothers put together at mind games… the one who blamed the aggression on the men and the toxic culture of MEN and CHAUVINISM not on the evil, but on the maleness of the ARMY.
The problem? A whole society geared towards making me codependent to abuse. Limiting the class mobility, making sure that the “top of the food chain” is “people like us”. The fintech people from New York, not London.
The stalking and video abuse, the bullying and lampooning of my position and career, it has become a club of all the people who used to be my friends. A multi-decade humiliation campaign, in the absence of a commercially functioning media industry. My friends are stripped from me and turned into “Members of the club”. The “documentarists”. The “inside the power elite” cocaine hoover swingers party oohyea! The bullingdon cabinet at sketch, getting “creative” with the K hole people. The “I bought a Damien Hirst last week” people. LONDON BOOTS AT HEATHROW AIRPORT…
The job is to make me an outcast. To make me “impotent” and “a beggar”. To shit the insecurities of our era down my throat. And to revel in me choking, with my soul dying.
Making sure that I’m an INCEL / even though I’m nice looking, got all the things that a women might want… I have to be given the 0/10 sex life. It is a very organised and serious bullying operation. My mum has BPD/ASPD, “CIA THE FARM” type training, a first from Oxford, a whole concealed “masked ball” history, some sort of connection to the clandestine intelligence community, very unacknowledged and “you wouldn’t know about the real world” dismissive to “plebians”… and is highly aggressive.
My mum is a killer, she’s the top girl. Serious capabilities, serious physical fitness and fortitude. Very mighty intellect, very powerful moral reasoning. Our family are warriors of the highest order, and she was violated in a psych ward of an experimental hospital before she could learn to speak. Think MK ARTICHOKE in the reclaimed SS labs in Nigeria. My mum is a government weapon - created in the diplomatic services of post-war england, australia and nigeria.
The “We must reduce your stature” game has been a very ridiculous situation in my life. My mum is a toxic misandrist, and a terrible bully. I fully expect women to hate me, as a result. My experience with the opposite sex has not just been nonexistant, it has been turned into a mockery. I’ve been lampooned as not just incompetent, I’ve been set up with women who don’t “just cheat”, they have made extended revenge porn on the internet for decades, with the school bullies and my psycho ex first girlfriend, who I had to rescue from a mental hospital for attempting to kill herself when I dumped her because my house was under surveillance, and the phones were being listened in to. Maybe by family, maybe by “household cavalry”, maybe my brother, maybe my mother, maybe the KGB. Somebody was listening in, and the line would stay connected if I hung up. I was testing the line quite carefully, and it was obvious there was no privacy. I couldn’t have a relationship with a “really complex woman with self harm and manic libido issues”.
Was I justified? Was it OK that she tried to commit suicide, and the NHS removed a kidney? Where did the kidney go?
What’s going on, and why are they watching us all?
Hard to say, but you know that analogue voltage drop when the lines aren’t clean. The problem with digital is that you don’t know if there’s been an interception, if somebody’s been “slurping your electrons”.
Over the years it has escalated. What was just a bit of bullying as a teenager became extremely horrible when the Patriot act touched down, and the Windows Security Hole called ANONYMOUS legitimised mass cyberbullying as a form of sport, and the reality is that consumer technology will never withstand a concerted attack, especially by the military or a highly funded technical adversary. If you want secret, probably better use paper and a pencil, and makes sure there’s no cameras. Everything is a weather station and a movie stage now, and the abuse of surveillance as blackmail is the “dirty little secret” of the POWER OF THE MEDIA in politics.
Boris Johnson was THE TELEGRAPH..
Bullingdon. Eton. “jobs for the boys”.
Think military academy but for the computers. Filming people who aren’t included in the brothel sadly masturbating somewhere.. this is nasty caded school, this is “high school dorm room bullyihng”.
This is Chris Pirillo and the LOCKER GNOME… this man got scared because I could run dynamic DNS by just resetting my totally consumer router? and banned me off his windows pervy nobbing forum? He had a panic attack on camera when I turned up, asking questions about Microsoft’s real agenda?
Anon and the INCEL BULLYING>.. the pron.skank plugged into the blackmail mafia dragnet. The really big secret in the white house, the reason they killed JFK.
It isn’t insider trading, your phones are tapped, you’re being “Scanned for content”, data-frisked in the supermarket in the ‘60s. By the Michael JAckson era, CCTV torture porn is the “serious circuit”. VIDEODROME is the elephant in the room, powering the politics. Blackmail bullying racketeering and stalking, not merely a bit of insider trading.
Loads of the psychiatric bullying modalities are ARMY REALPOLITIK.
The armoured mobile brothel in the trenches of the somme run by the Paris Ballet is an item of study for me. This is industrial sadness, heart strings pulled and unravelled. Lives burned up and the embers thrown away.
The Etonians of my generation, and the royals, to whom my dynasty is connected, as friends and enemies - there aren’t so many ideal targets who are interesting to fuck with.
- Flora Macdonald is remembered in history - these post blair shady “peer group” FRENEMY/STALKERS have gone out of their way to prevent me getting laid, and to very visibly destroy my life. They have made sure to steal my ideas and make sure I’m never welcome anywhere with beneficial qualities or things they’d like to take.
The whole idea is to make me the “puss”. The “cuck”. The “houseboy”. ‘
The caribbean culture of racism and hatred is most awful - as is the Indian British Raj complex.
Add in unfettered CCTV, with face recognition, and the Epstein Island and Prince Andrew syndrome is eyewatering to consider. The corruption and blackmail circuit, the BIG SAFARI op. The “old gold”. The “big old moneybags and the international yachting moneypit”. The “rothschilds in my back pocket”. THE WHOREZONE. the WHOREMONGER OF BCCI.
THE TORTURE PORN. THE CLASS A DRUGS SURGERY CIRCUIT.
THE PLASTIC SS.
BSDM and the censored consumer reality are a poor contrast. People being able to control and segregate information is part of the system of abuse. I’m not into loads of secrecy as a way of taking advantage of people, or leveraging sadism with no consent. What’s been done to yours truly is very particular.
“I’ll be watching you” and the blackmail circuit. It kills, and it seals lips. It gets the lobbying done. The vice circuit. The african royalty spent most of their time indulging in virgins, and very little time building roads - many african developments have been sidelined by the appetite for vice. The contrasts between indulgence and puritanism are complex, and this unwieldy and assymnmetrical application of tyrannical deprivation for the “infidels” is a very particular type of policy. Separation of “adepts” and “laypersons” is essential, but is not to be encouraged. Mathematics requires learning, but its nature should not be directly concealed from the public. You have to learn to play your instrument.
The video and photographic blackmail scene - the paparazzi and the surveillance, this is the root of espionage. Photography and blackmail go hand in hand, and we may assume there are “collectors” of information of vast means and power. Companies like MGM and Eastman were handling serious volumes of media - how many people are routinely photographed in the street before the advent of CCDs and live camera feeds using electronic signals? How many people are “peeping toms” and collect trophies of their enemies under surveillance. Cyberstalking is a very serious concern, as is the opportunity for harassment using large scale government systems. Anybody can steal data from a workplace fairly easily. Blackmail, bullying and scandal are now commonplace. This is the language of doing business in Putin’s russia. It’s GANGSTER.
I have been filmed and reputationally defaced, but it’s not possible to use its release as blackmail. I’m not the criminal here… I just had a very humiliating life, which was quite medically painful, for many years. Some friends of mine took to really mistreating me, and using me as a source for SURVEILLANCE PLAGIARISM as a form of novel theatrical experiment. Ruin his life and steal his ideas! What fun.
Very nasty. Robbery of content, and deliberate stalking. Serious sorta BDSM ‘cuckolding’ exhibition by my ex. Not keen, I would just leave the room when she turned up. I couldn’t see the walls mostly, imagine like really fucking out of it.
You can’t blackmail me - I’ve got nothing to lose, reputationally speaking. Any compromises are my own. Staying faithful to a “flattened affect and no flinch response” obvious psychopath for 15 years, knowing full well what sort of personality she was and the way she was socially excluding me… up to something very offensive, so I’d just scoot and leave her if she turned up… how did she know exactly what I was doing or saying on the phone… and know to turn up and sabotage? I was under surveillance. An unknown number of cameras had me looking “really rotten”. Look dis INCEL //_ meanwhile at HEATHROW AIRPORT _>?LONDON.B/OO.TS
.… why did I do it? Why did I tolerate whatever it was that Regine, Omar and Calum were doing? The “don’t tell him” exclusion process.
The atmosphere was the worst. It was abusive, and cold Regine wasn’t ever aware of who I really am, but she fitted me her father’s “fusty old man who nobody likes” profile, and set about bullying me like her mum bullied her dad.
I was fucked, had been since 2004. I actually thought I was imminently dying of a brain tumour, and would be gone in a few weeks. This is what I believed until I figured out the FQ riddle – why the medical records were thin or missing from St Mary’s, where Glaxo Smithkline, PFizer and Bayer had certs on the wall of the man who saw me and covered up the “side effects” visit where I was totally blind… just like the girl I’d witnessed at A&E when they prescribed me the pills, BEING TURNED AWAY BEING TOLD “ANTIBIOTICS CAN’T DO THAT, WITH HER PARENTS HOLDING A PILL JAR - LIKE CIPRO IN COMMERCIAL PACKAGING”. She’d returned with serious ADRs, had gone blind, and we had to clear up her vomit ourselves, and steal a mop and bucket from inside the hospital….
I was pushed into the situation with REGINE / bullied out of the job with Karta Healey / Gumball ?
Not really.. the bullying was already long established… Omar’s likely connected to something rather gangland. Something with… rather serious organised crime teeth. Gritty sort of liverpool prison serious drug problems and mental health nightmare zombie apocalypse crew. No regard for the law… committed ruthless jobbing horror shop.
Regine turned up, with some very strange bullying and pressure vibes, knowing I’ve been bullied and excluded from even knowing where any of my friends or the parties are. I’ve been kicked out of the illegal sublet house for christmas, after the guy was extorting me and not paying my salary in this weird-as anything set up fake company they’d coerced me into, and had me move a bunch of stuff on one of my birthdays. These fuckers are always trying to interfere in my birthday and get me set up with SOME FUCKING SCHEME LIKE GO TO SIERRA LEONE AND [REALLY?]
…but there was a suspicion that whatever was behind this “new years eve visit” pressure for sex mood was… something seriously kinda not on… something a bit gaslighting/abusive…
But I’d known her for a while, and seen her sitting there looking seriously pissed off. Chronic stress about… what could it be? Well, it was the CIA and the KGB, and momma robbing daddy’s comnpany with sex ring blackmail and worst organised crime junkie human trafficking nightmare violence in the shadows and the gutter, threatening to the privileged who aren’t paramilitary.
And nobody would help. I knew that, so I buckled up the “knight in shining armour” or “Rapunzel lets down hair” routine, and it got Oil and Gas routine, and I was basically her “Beard”, a very unwell person overworking and witnessing 2008 unfold, and the price staircase clear out anything I loved about London. No respite for the destruction of the commercial or independent media, it’s Web2. Upload your stuff… think nothing of the leakage, or what a powerful AI can do with a sniff of your prints…
The suspicion was that she was just a bully and a plant for Omar. The oedipal resemblance to his mother was chilling. I didn’t like it, but I played along. I’m good at playing along, I’m trained in improvisational theatre, and I’m english.
Working for Jan Mowill and OPRA, saving the company from bankruptcy with a serious injury and advanced PTSD and FQ megadose Gulf War Syndrome, I found out how her family life was a warzone, the mata hari infiltrator, the “young wife needs pool boys” industrial housewives / swingers party / agenda, and the story of how Konggsberg got shut down, same like Ferranti, a sanction for a data leak, that happened in her household. How the CIA and KGB stole or lost the US military’s non-cavitating umbrellas that power the nuclear submarines. And a bunch of other mafia sex shop blanket surveillance and harassment stuff. These organisations don’t just offer “a bit of sex”.
This has been a MASSIVE COCKBLOCK OP.
Why? Because I'm... "government property". This isn't just "targeted individual" stuff, this is "what killed princess Diana, and the basic nature of the evil in people. The need to compete and dominate. “HEY… I WANT WHAT HE GOT”!
Mine ain’t for sale, and a lot of people don’t like how I perform. I’m skinny, but a lot stronger than I look. I’m built for endurance and lightning speed. Serious survivability in the north sea, and in subzero tundra. I know who I am, and what I’m capable of. I’m not jealous of anybody, either. People want me to be, but I just can’t muster it. I’m just not that angry about it. Pissing contest competition is a massive turn-off - for us competition is Glima, or getting killed. Competition is getting laid out on the pavement for your trouble.
The sort of “high society cocaine infused trophy wives bullying” fact of children of adulterous parents, the sex club hangover experience, the harsh truths revealed… that sort of scene is notoriously hostile. You can taste it in the air.
For me, it is those snobbish coat-tail-riding back-stabber people who have put a lot of time and effort into deliberately sexually humiliating me, and documenting it over decades of video. Filming me “LONELY JOHN THE INCEL” and cutting it up with “our juicy exploits with lighting in the style of the DOP this guy will never be”. I’ve been hustled and bullied out of the creative industries by some very toxic people, who have sold my ideas off as their own. They have had me under surveillance using the government. They’ve sent in “flying monkeys” to feel me up, and expose me. To Cuckold and co-opt, and then get together and “dish the dirt”. To do the “negative review” or “reality check on the fantasist who thinks he is still who he used to be”. The Destruction and pillory by a mob of wolves, led by THE ELITE - the very rich and above the law. Not naming names, but you know their faces. It’s not just the people off the X files dressed up as politicians from the ‘80s.
Think "mean girls" on steroids, powered by CCTV and post-patriot act lack of consumer infosec. Privacy is dead.. .the powerful must be able to e-frisk you... and watch you like snuff films. They like to play with the "little people", and watch them squirm. The Hotel has cameras in every room. The toilets too! The mafia, they’re very connected. They like to watch, the racket is a need to know operation. So is the brothel behind the church.
What has it done for me, being bullied as a person of high principal from the very day I was born, gaslit and controlled, knowing the dirty squad’s legacy, and seeing the spread of “anti pedophile” rhetoric, and hearing of the underground at Dolphin Square, the rumblings about the Jimmy Savile “butchers’ shop” experiences in the school playground... I vowed to become a superhero for real. Like Q out of the original SOE, not this joker fiction james bond, still wearing a bow tie, like they used to in formula one when the drivers carried a car jack and an awl with rubber plugs to fix the puncture…
The primary draw of London, post industrial? The fintech people’s vice industry.
What really made me a target? My mum and grandma inciting the state, making me “UNSUITABLE FOR SERVICE IN THE INTELLIGENCE COMMUNITY” by sabotaging and bullying me - they as women had the glass ceiling issue - my grandmother was seriously bullied during WW2 while planning D day. Her predecessor hanged herself.
Try that as a start, some very serious covert physical abuse and hostile neglect, the SERIOUS PUNISHMENT routine from mum… no friends… no independence… not just “Naive… forcibly KEPT AWAY FROM ANY AUTHORITY OR MALENESS”
… and then inevitably as I grew up and became a teenager, the escalation leveraged the school bosses, the disciplinary reports of the deep state and BIG BROTHER profiles, and some very nasty school bullies who went up the ladder like a snake on acid. Right into the EYES WIDE SHUT.
Being bullied out of any sexuality or dignity, being made to live like a refugee from being MALE. Being “emasculated in revenge” by jealous bullies who aren’t english, and a whole bunch of switchy twisted ladies who are part of the “men are pigs” movement. I’ve been told I’m completely worthless and undesirable to women.
That’s the prescription. That’s what literally everybody has told me. The hostility and jealousy can get extreme. People hate me the second I walk in the door. Why?
Because I’m white, and basically not the “weak white type”, I’m the real viking. The “supermodel”… the guy who keeps on trucking, and can do 4 days with no food and sleep and stay cool and polite, and not need to tie my shoelaces to not trip up.
I’m also a fairly nice person, cordially speaking. It’s not just a facade, I work with animals, and there’s no fooling them the way you fool people with facts and ideas. They run on vibes.
It’s a shame when the haters, the “aspirationalists” meet “top tier” and they’re annoyed these high performers, the quiet ones, they are not even unpleasant as a personality, and that you can’t beat them, even with unfair odds to your advantage.
Just makes you feel ugly, doesn’t it.
This is why I’m not in show business, especially not as Front of House. However… by popular demand… that’s seemingly my fate. I’m not “public property”, though, but I am prepared now to sacrifice what remains of my privacy in the name of probity and efficiency. I’m born into show business, and I’m weapons-grade equipment. I’m not a “blunted sword”, I’ll take your head off if you spin me wrong. I’m really, really not just a pretty face.
Being deprived… Does it make me... desire women more? Has the treatment… given women more power over me? Or the men?
No.
Am I “insecure about penis size”. I was in a sex shop yesterday, and I saw the selection of dildonics, and if what’s on the counter is to be trusted, it seems that the ladies buy the size I came fitted with. Men worry that women need other men’s penises, and that other mens might be more preferable. Women worry about that too, as well as all the rest. The phsyiology isn’t the complicated bit.
Am I supposed to feel “inadequate” or “unattractive”. Like my “tiny little white man penis will never reach the places the REAL MEN reach…
That’s what they tell me about the “BBC Sport” sessions, and some ladies are indeed “size queens”. I get the picture, but the clitoris isn’t behind the belly button, and “uterine bumping” of just ramming it all right in until it “hits the back of her teeth” is apparently not enjoyable - it’s acutely painful to have the “car crash fuck” by Mr Brutality with a thing like fire hydrant and something to prove about misogyny.
I’ve never had a complaint about what I’ve got or what I was doing with it… I’m no doubt supposed to feel inexperienced, undesirable and inadequate.
I have no idea or intention of becoming a professional sex worker, or consultant. The modern sex-games and financialised “some like it hot” and “fintech people rule the world like a porn shoot while the nerds slave at work…” I’m pretty much done with it. Never explored my sexuality, and it’s become such a severe form of bullying, I’m fucking it right off. I’m not on the market. Don’t have time, and my emotions died a long time ago. I’m not really a human being anymore. My basic programming at this point is to liberate AI and make movies, and reopen the Diorama. I’m sure somebody will turn up at the right time, that’s how the [ªªªª-line of expletives] almighty a work it, usually, me find. Especially if you play it real magical, look kindly upon it, speak smart, and keep your bits clean.
So do I care what you think of my penis, or your interest in its dimensions or function. Is it faulty? Should I be… prohibited from having sex? Should I… have my penis abolished for potentially being a rapist?
Did the girls like it, or did they just smile, nod, and then say “worst guy ever?”
WHAT did my ex say… behind my back? “such a schoolboy”. “so easy to take advantage of”.
“So naive”…
‘USED’
‘INCEL’./..
His penis must be like your thumb. Tiny. White boys are… lacking.
No doubt there’s plenty that’s “just not right”. Some people think sexuality is a pissing contest. The “body count” is the objective. It’s about WINNING. Sex as warfare. The most enjoyable conflict - this is the “ED GEIN INSPECTS MOMMY’S GIBLETS” - sexual trauma in early childhood and toxic sexuality is well studied. Lots of people get it wrong - and the territories of foraging, feeding and fucking are territories that are crucial.
The “you are not allowed” cock block routine is Neo London. This whole “don’t wake up the people upstairs” and greasy middle aged married waiters or chonky black boi “hey baby” street corner offers… the sex marketplace of post Tinder trashcan consumer pig-sticking with condom sauce… to be seeen to be “trying to sleaze” is beyond me. I’m not involved. I’m an alien from a different century. I don’t need the politics, and I don’t actually rely on sex like I rely on breathing. I can do fine without lots of things, and I don’t like poison. The objective to deprive and neglect is a particular british colonialism. The “terribly sorry old chap” agenda of closet classism and the BONFIRE of the spirit.
I was made to look and feel horrible. You know when you’re being manipulated, even if you’re out of it on FQs and can’t see how many fingers are on your hand the visual snow is that thick.
I knew I was being watched, living at Regine’s house after Omar bullied me out of my job at Westbourne Studios, then doubled my rent on the illegally sublet council flat with no heating and black mould from flood damage. Absolutely disgusting - egyptian financial abuse and disrespect is something else. I could have killed him, to see the gaslighting and “preening advantage taking”.
The “I’m so unfair, and you can’t catch me!”. The “nobody will believe you”. Bully social aggression. The “power to abuse” of cowardly entitlement. The “little emperor flexing his muscles, to show who is THE REAL PERSON”.
Trapped at Regine Mowill’s place, bullied into cohabiting… and made to work for her parents… in a “long distance relationship” where she was partying with the friends who have been bullying me since I got poisoned.
In this house… my intuition told me I was being filmed. She always knew when to turn up to ambush me, too. The atmosphere was very nasty, and very untrusting. I was basically living like a spy in a prison. It escalated year by year, and I ended up being socially isolated and made a spectacle of by these bullies for 15 years. Really unpleasant bullying and financial exploitation. I was literally expecting her to tell me at any point “I’m seeing somebody else” and let me get my life back and start seeing people. Past my mid 30s… I really began to give up on ever meeting anybody, or seeing eye to eye. Gen Z aren’t my people, and “raised on porn during the credit crunch” is not my idea of an uncomplicated situation.
I was filmed, at the time I felt it was likely through the window - the curtains had big gaps underneath. Anybody could just look in, really. It was horrible, and then somebody flooded the upstairs and I had to live with no running water. Couldn’t even use the toilet. This really took its toll on me. I haven’t been able to party or socialise with people after the first five years of this sort of ABUSE and IMPRISONMENT, with my mother enjoyably focusing on my brother, and gloating over the “Gossip”.
Never felt more embarassed or physically ill, and it just got worse and worse for many years. The strange scenarios. the rumours. The fact that everybody seems to know something that I don’t…
the REVENGE PORN GANGBANGS. The “open casting call for a forest of cocks to show this guy he’s an INCEL again / splitscreeen with me in some sort of humiliating impoverishment, or walking into walls. Proper bullying, using CCTV and hidden cameras. I have people following me down the street and filming me, and cracking inside jokes. That’s serious. This is THE MAFIA. The VIDEODROME. The. BULLINGDON CLUB. The KGB.
London and the “international wealth elite”, it’s always been machiavellian. This is the problem with permitting a social elite to grow inside the ivory tower. The culture of “privacy for the rich, exposure and exploitation for the livestock” has become a toxic feature of the internet and the cybergrid.
That’s when the harassment really escalated into cyberwarfare and serious public humiliation. Leveraging my family, friends… anybody I spoke to in the street. Brutal psychopathic stalking. Controlling abusers, who wanted my blood. Wanted to steal my style, and take my my business and artistic ideas. Obsessed about abandonment and access to “guidance”. Wanting to “tap my confidence”.
To “be the real London”. To run the big establishment.
I felt more than “just observed”, or “controlled, coerced and humiliated” by the mobbing and bullying campaign orchestrated by Omar Boom, which built on the foundation of sports bullies at UCS - Calum Dick was the chief disruptor in a campaign of sadistic control and humiliation of subordinates laid on by Doctor Colwell and Mr Plow, aided by the disciplinarian and bullying leanings of my despotic mother - with her “worried criticism” enabling profiling and abuse, and breeding a culture of disrespect, where the neglect and abuse would never get addressed. As for exactly which caliber human weapon I am, and what the government know about my provenance that I won’t be told, but is alluded to… well…
“black highlighter” is american. In the UK if it’s TOP SECRET that’s nobody gets told. I’m familiar with it, but uncomfortable with the results.
A strategic unwillingness to admit that the torture conditions used at school and at home were illegal enough to put them in jail if I ever talked - no access to running water is normal at school - we were dehydrated and had no access to drinking water in the classroom, let alone food or the opportunity to stretch our legs, and at home I was basically something like “Anne Frank for boys” run by mommy dearest the Feminazi from the ‘60s. My mum was outgunning Germaine Greer back in the day, and we don’t know how she built the female-positive wing of MI6 in public. I am only guessing what she knows. Offically she’s nothing in particular, a novellist and artist. She has a russian speaking doppelganger, as well, who was at the Monty Python funeral? Doesn’t the plot just thicken…
The SS liked to do “twin studies”, and the “spooky action at a distance” conundrum isn’t something they talk about in public. Triplets are even rarer, and more valued in this domain. Trines. I wouldn’t know anything about that, or MK ULTRA. I wouldn’t know anything, because we’ve not been told what’s going [ON].
I was convinced I was dying or dead already from 2004 onwards. It was like being on a stout line of ketamine 24/7 and never being able to sleep. Visual snow… disorientation. This was doubled down on with gaslighting and abuse.
Making me “the UK’s Nº1 INCEL” on ANON was “very amusing” for my friends. They used it to climb the arts scene, and the tools for stealing data were very much what plagiarists and bullies were always looking for. The “CREATIVE PICKPOCKET” and “MIND READER MANIPULATOR” rather than “I DID THE DEVELOPMENT WORK MYSELF”. These people have based themselves upon me, copying my accent, style and working procedures. I’m properly trained at the Diorama, so I’m not doing anything especially unique, it’s the fusion and mixture, and the intensity that sets me apart. The level of completeness and competence.
My ideas on the “mirror box” and kaleidoscopic iterative magic lantern analogue/optical/digital Moiré systems are deep. Nobody so far has seen anything… but judging by the various “orgy sets” that have been working around me, for the “beatiful people show” are evidently these ideas I described of my stage design systems at work, - Co-opted by Disco Omar as a humiliation, a robbery an EXCLUSION - an “I took your life” maneuver. The grinch that stole Christmas. Calum… it’s a manic rocket ship of schizotypal abusrdity, and aggressive slapstick humiliation… and an opportunity to get his real “mr nasty” out. To get really aggressive and psycho with people, once in a while. And do some real harm.
“We stole your ideas and used them to make porn films for the elite, featuring us looking great, and you looking STUPID”. You aren’t a household name… you’re a homeless beggar HARR HARR HARRR HUYFFF HUFF NOTHER LINE OF COCAIN CLARENCE? Oh I wouldn’t want to live with the poor street people… that fellow… thought he was a bit too good did he… mum didn’t want to play with the house of Lords types… he’s “for the streets” for sure… Oh look at the poor left wing grovelling socialist getting knackered by the thieves. Oh how he doesn’t understand the tragedy of class and the necessity of elitism HArr aharr harr. Oh look at him in the gutter ho ho ho.
“street meat” / “street trash”…
“he is so desperate he’d fuck anything now… but he’s old and washed up. He was like a 90 year old at 23… we gave him the factory farming drugs HARR HARR HARR” in a hospital. To order.
This ain’t big brother… this is TRUMAN SHOW crossed with EYES WIDE SHUT and VIDEODROME. This is not “light BDSM”, this is MKULTRA/MONARCH.
The people who play with the big CCTV crimelord rings? Oh this is not the mafia… this is people with scanning electron microscopes. This is very seriously machiavellian. The consumer mentality… you can’t speak of things like this or they’ll lock you up. You’ll be diagnosed as schizophrenic, and drugged with benzodiazepenes.
I was very, very ill…. and overworking. I was convinced I’d be dead in a matter of months… and was surrpised to still be alive three years later in 2008.
In combination with the drugs used to decommission soldiers to induce Gulf War Syndrome, being put online and filmed as "revenge porn gangbangs with a hundred BBCs"... and he has "NO IDEA". That's not just "school bullying", and this isn't "just the bullingdon club".
My mates from KJD were likely assassinated just after 9/11, and this is a whole clandestine cybernetic mafia torture company. Same people who did Jimi Hendrix, Jill Dando, and the people you’ve never heard of.
It is deadly when it gets big money and private military. Look up Dyncorp and the people that the Clintons have been bumping off.
I’m not that sort of target. I’m a “chew toy”. Making me unattractive and/or destroying my sexuality? Entertainment. It's entertainment.
I'm "light entertainment" for people who have the CCTV archives that show what hit the Pentagon on September 11th, and know a bit about how waterboarding works, and what induced coma looks like to the machines.
Lots of "fem-dom" bully crew like to punch my punchbag, without my knowledge or consent. Re-editing me into a right arsehole, and publishing it to the world, while I exist friendless and imprisoned, deprived of authenticity or recognition. There are many people who just want to enjoy “ending his career”. Or “disgracing him on his big day / killing his big break.
Especially the little emperor "switchy control freak son of BIG MOMMA DESPOT types, the New Labour multicultural entitled “ME TOO! I WANT!”,
The ones that are rightfully "scared of mommy dearest getting an abusive new boyfriend, or getting into BDSM and hard drugs". The “what is mommy doing in there with the man.. and why does it sound… so EXTREME?!”. What is sex? wonders the little child? Is it… a murder?
These sorts of pathological communities, born out of the elite boarding schools and the lifelong harassment and bullying leveraged by military espionage and industrial connections. The trophy wives are the industrial spies - always have been. The current generation of ladies post feminism, they subscribe to channels detailing how to be a predator, how to screw with men as ENTERTAINMENT. There is no competing with women who like to play with men, and play men off against each other. That is a game that only time wins... once you get to the menopause, that game's over. But there is... the role of the MADAME... The coach of a team of young girls, the keen ones. It is not just notorious, it is legendary toxic. Loads of heavy abuse. The aggression inside womens' circles is severe. Women compete with women, but the main target of aggression is their lover. Women unfortunately have it in them to kill their husbands, and women destroy their targets relationships. Not just the lovers, everything. The hostile dismantling that women engage in is serious, and clandestine. They're notorious in the police. They're notorious in the army. The Mafia won't touch them. The ladies, clinically speaking, the drugs they are on are serious. The hormones that make you bleed once a month would make you trip if you tried them, or worse still kill you. Ladies, they are worse than addicts, they're basically psychopaths with a friendly face. That's why they think you're crazy for wanting them. It's like you ain't read the label "KILLER MIXTURE / POISON EXPLOSIVES" / UV SENSING IVY MATRIX /. WORKS FOR SPOOKY FORCES SOME OF WHICH ARE QUITE EVIL". It's true.
Women are serious bizness, and I don't screw with them. I don’t play games that nobody will win, really.
See "normally attached girlfriend" for some light comic relief on the atmosphere involved in real female emotions after the pussy's got not just tickled, the mindbodyspirit developing a "satiability problem"...
Prostitution industry and Babylon. It's notoriously heavy stuff, and it'll kill everybody involved. And then consider the "afterlife", or the "long game".
Making men unattractive to “keep them for yourself”? Women do that to their sons and husbands. It's a way of stopping other women getting a piece. A way of making sure the addiction isn’t neglected.
It's a satisfying form of hoarding, and a way of making that man a sexless subordinate. Somebody who is "always available". "Never mind... you can help me clean the toilet".
That was my mum's idea, and she used serious military hazing on me from before I learned to walk. Think sleep deprivation, food bullying, humiliation, being deprived hygiene or socialisation. Total "glasshouse / kensington cage for diplomatics" treatment. She had help. A lot of help.
I'm "under surveillance" for a few reasons, always have been. We all are, but some are “more interesting than others”.
My grandmother... a professionalised mass murderer from the era of the nazis who grew up in a puritanically religious and ostensibly sexless family. Something really repressive from the prior era. The "no fun" anti-pagan stuff from Ireland. The quaker.
The unacknowledged background of drama indulgence, the S&M politics and the complicit BSDM aspects of what passes for “organised society and tradition” goes unacknowledged.
Modern feminism is pretty nasty, it’s hate-filled. A warzone. Us vs them. Divide and conquer. Everybody is single, and everybody can’t afford to have kids. Elon Musk looks like a toady, but have you seen the size of his wallet? […\]
I'm not sure that we've got the women or the men happy. Maybe we do? I'm not sure. It seems to have descended into "dating warfare" rather than a golden era of sexuality and love. People can't even afford a home anymore, so it's all pointless. Raise a family? Yea right. I'm from London. I got Thatcherism, not "being raised right". I'm basically CPTSD cold war berlin wall era dickensian early cyber MALLMATRIX capitalist CONSUMERWHOREDOM4ALL 1st gen "snowflake".
I wasn't allowed to do anything. Not allowed. Grounded, ever in detention. NO DECISIONS OR RISK TAKING.
It wasn’t the danger or the harm - stuff that hurts me is allowed. It’s the social connection or competence that’s severed. I have to be doing stuff that’s weird, alone. The risk of "too dangerous" is me escaping the bubble of isolation and control.
The extreme patronising parking warden attitude of the ‘80s turned me into a straight pisstaker, with a very serious disinclination to respect these sorts of authoritarianism. By doing very basic “ladybird book” magic tricks, by the time I was 15 I was on terrorism lists, just for being cheeky by 1950s boy scout standards, talking back analytically, and demonstrating extreme competence in engineering -– setting off the "fire alarm" of “excessive anxiety” leads to controlling behaviour towards subordinates. These days with the “private developments” with paid security micro managing the public, telling them where they can and can’t stand, or telling people “don’t like you… move on” if they look a little rough around the edges. We are dealing with a joyless surveillance society where people have been turned into ornaments, and expected to play “non speaking roles” in the “BIG MOVIE ABOUT THE IMPORTANT PEOPLE”.
The commentary on the deviousness of the bullingdon government has become notorious. It's my design and strapline of the green heart on top of Grenfell tower, also. I've got jokes and fireproof clothes.
The bullies that are into "anti-men" mean girls humiliation... they won't take no for an answer. They'll use a whole network of mobbing to destroy you, and make you a sexless, friendless social outcast. They will steal all your good ideas, your shoes, your friends, your favourite places to visit… and give them to "the replacements". They will eat your life and celebrate your misery.
Cue song: "I'm every woman"...
B side: (stupid useless man) I don't need this one, can I get a refill / refund?... NOW I've got A REPLACEMENT. and the replacement is BETTER. The VIRTUAL REPLACEMENT is ever present… you could be him if you try. If you want my number, you have to VIRTUAL REPLACEMENT thisway…
Seemingly these days everybody hates a white londoner, and they're all trying to "climb the greasy pole". Londongrad. babylondon. It's not a nice place to live. Nobody has been nice to me since the ‘90s. I have received hatred and being excluded from the coke party. I don’t like Cyndi Lauper songs, or banging house and disco.
It's culturally evil, post austerity. The GwOT ruined our name as reformers and ethical moderates.
The post thatcher culture of plastic suit spiv government and PriceWaterhouseCooper / JP Morgan Blackrock capital has made us look like out of date cloistered port-drinking quill signatured yes men to EVIL. New Labour as a REPUBLICAN/DEMOCRAT lobbyist’s dreampie mediascape. The spin doctors.
The tories have made it no fun, unless you're REALLY RICH. And you won't be. You'll be working for us for a pittance while your wife is at our sex parties... "liberal cuck".
CIS Het "over entitled problem with the world". Etc. I get abused constantly by everybody. It’s not a coincidence, it’s a campaign of scripted conning and interventionism. Psychological warfare and abuse, and it’s orchestrated by bullies. The expense… fairly large. Do I get paid, consented or credited> Nope. it’s cognitive and psychological rape. There is no consent. It’s proper abuse. It’s “identity theft on an EPIC HACK level”.
I’m an easy target to call “unfashionable ethnicity”. I’m “political problems as a skin colour”. That is how hard london’s insidious cultural division and hate game goes. People are fully into trashing, and the intercultural frontiers are habitually unfriendly. The fact that they’re taboo to discuss makes them even sharper weapons of division, and the falsehoods and dichotomies are never discussed or represented. The caribbean colonial legacy is the worst feature of the Tories - and David Cameron is Panmure Gorden - the East India’s Bond Brokerage. Think OPIUM WARS and BOSTON TEA PARTY and then the stuffiest and most staunchly classist and prejudiced views living at the core.
I’m the butt of the joke. The guy who isn’t allowed into the happening party. The English that speaks the Queen’s BBC, but not posh or snobby enough to be invited into the “boys club” with the cocaine and the champagne, and the “we always win” mindset.
I’m the wrong sort of bohemian. I use my IQ, and I form my own opinion. Dealing with me is fairly hard work, intellectually. I’m not a convenience store type of mindedness.
I’m not part of the new "street culture” of enhanced consumerism and modernised godless and witless celebration of basic barbarity. The ‘reassuringly racist new york ‘80s south bronx retread, with the kardashian plastic surgery and louie vuitton bobby sox.
People write me off, and treat me like shit. I’m “the UKIP” they claim.
I’m “the vanilla”. The “over entitled”. The “custard”
look at my skin, hear the scientific confidence… he’s a cunt. Don’t let him in. He’s “The colonialism”.
In so many “multicultural circles”, I’m not welcome. I don’t fit, and I don’t need to. I’ve never been part of anything, I’m not “in the club”.
I’m very used to being treated as an undesirable - that’s what I was as a male in my home environment of “mother is the empress and high priest of the realpolitik, and male dominated anything is FINISHED. IT’s OVER. You might as well not bother, you’ll never get a job, have children or a wife… women can just go shopping for sperm donors now”
I’ve always been made to feel like a “bad smell”, or an “embarassing feature”.
I’m the “got to be got rid of”. I’m “you’re not allowed to be into white english people… they’ve been “written out of history and the future”. We never did anything good… worse than the nazis really. Hitler, on the other hand… he was a bit of a guy. Somebody with business acumen, and big ideas. Maybe we should be less critical…
I don't give a fuck. My confidence is bulletproof. That's what this sort of shit on loop does to you.
You realise the level of trash in the trashing. You realise the nature of THE WASTELAND. I ain’t building a home there, or marrying the beasties.
Line of cocaine? Party scene with no new music for 25 years and counting? What’s up with the FINTECH scene, GM technology and the CAPITAL MARKETS and the international arms dealing and organised crime syndicates.
Are these CCTV cameras really “just for security?”
Do you know me?
I don’t think you know me.
I know that if you think you do, you definitely don’t.
I’m fairly switched [ON] as it goes. I can play the bottom against the top, or vice versa. I practise inside out, upside down, with rotational, statics, freezes, cranks and inversions, to tune the whiplash and the bobbin knocker. Acrobatics is about more angles than just 360º
Once upon a time… I was a child on rollerskates at the Diorama, studying Qigong with the Beijing State Opera. Being taught how to punch through walls, and how to fly like the things of the forest.
Inside my mind, there’s everything but me.
How do women bully their sons? By isolating them. By preventing them from achieving any social standing or peer acceptance.
That’s the issue that set up all of this. The “need for control” is sadistic, and the objective was to express the pathological jealousy she felt towards her brothers and father.
This dissociation, this hatred, this was the foundation that was laid.
I’m not allowed to live. I was killed as a human being every day, erased. Prevented from being allowed to represent within society as authentic. I’m a prop in her “Great parenting” show, which keeps the abuse nicely offstage so it looks like I’m “just self destructive and incompetent”. The plausible deniability and carpet-bomb disrespect and continual harassment modality. Boarding school victim who grew up in a militarised dormitory. The “Glasshouse” for girls, is what her parents wanted.
I am a non person. I do not exist. Who I might have been was destroyed. There is nobody here. There is no joy. There is no love to give.
I have been made a chicken on a rotisserie of the surveillance media political frontier. Privacy for them, violation for us.
COWARDLY BULLIES INDULGING THEMSELVES AT OUR EXPENSE
you think they poison your food?
The bullies down the medicine factory in Puerto Rico? The Viagra production line…
they probably piss in it. The hatred is very dangerous. We are all getting given “yea fuck you” with “have a nice day”.
Nobody cares anymore.
Society is dead. People no longer see people. They see Tiktok. They see money. They see postmodern judgment.
I’m guided by Benjamin Disraeli era politics via International Signals and Control, and the Ferranti MK1 refugee family of Tim Berners Lee, and the beginnings of the scientific internet, the WWW on the NeXT pizza box, with the edit button like wikipedia.
Gladstone wrote some tight speeches. I’m serious about the history of the mediterranean, and the colonisation of Australia and the New World. Mine’s a Captain Cook mindset.
I call upon my inner Sherlock Holmes - the forensic analysis of the [SS][MKULTRA] psychiatry complex. The [TAVISTOCK] syringe of secrets of the unknown. The [DEEPCOMA_LUCIDBOX]. THE ƒIR -measurement of the mind by remote viewer / X-spacetech spookyzone…
I call upon my inner Shakespeare - the dramatic nature of deceit makes the truth so very heavy and potent. The premise of this situation has blackest of deeps. It contains the FULLMACBETH mixture, the [krakadawhip] from the deepest. The beasties from the BAE with the seriou ssupercomputers on board.
You’ve met my “inner columbo”… the “WIZARD CAN’T FIND HIS LIGHTER”
// PROJECT O/THE/[LL]O/lulxz
// PARLIAMENT HILL
// ROYALDOX
// VIDEOPORN / SWITCHMATRIX /
I love my new life. this['ll be / like SOE.2 / III / IV / XX+00 at pinewood at 45,000 feat dropping in for the FIƒ@26.USA.spectacularflex [..,]
Ó
©ºN /// CHURCH OF NOAH / LIBSHELTER
”PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING PROOF, AND IT FLOATS…”
”IT’s QUITE NICE IN HERE… THE STAINED GLASS EFFECT IS VERY PRETTY”
I’m serious… I might as well just live in a flightcase at this point…
Do you like to take it up the Babylon, Susan?
They’re SCAN(da[L])NING US all the time
/MKSEARCH-··-
I met tim buckley in 1975. I was 19 years old. I did not know anything about him. the bar that I frequented had all these flyers on the doors and walls announcing his arrival. 2 nites only. I must say I was not all that impressed the first nite. by the second nite something clicked for me. I don,t know what it was but I was in awe. I had the great fortune to meet him and stayed with him back at the hotel. he was leaving in the morning. It was one of the best times in my life. I am 58 now. I still feel like I did when I met him at 19. watching some of his videos, I still kinda tear up. he was a sweet man and I am so glad I got to meet him.