Saturday, May 23, 2009
Moving on Out
(3)
The very creep people downstairs appear to have been moving out over the last week or so. I have photographs. The very creepy people upstairs are showing no such signs so far, but I expect those creepy people will move out soon. I have more photographs. We shall see.
Which brings us to the subject promised in this blog last week which was 'Gang Stalking' (see 5 below). I am waaay too drunk at this point to do justice to the subject, so I'll leave it 'til next week. I will say that this is not a case of 'gang stalking.' On the contrary, this a case of what I call, 'personal terrorism.' To be more specific, this is a case of personal stalking where the stalker is wealthy enough to recruit 'ass-istants.' Such assistants have come and gone over the years, and they will continue to come and go, until I am able to figure out a way to nail the creepy Jewish lawyer Walter L Gerash to my bedroom wall. (Sue me, faggot!)
I write figuratively, of course: Walter Gerash is the very last person I would want hanging on my bedroom wall! Jesus, maybe (but not bloody-fucking likely); Wally, no. Nooooo way!
Hmm. I just checked the clock: it's only six fucking thirty! I am on my last (11tth) beer. Only whiskey left. I'll save the whiskey for my final post tonight, Moksha.
The very creep people downstairs appear to have been moving out over the last week or so. I have photographs. The very creepy people upstairs are showing no such signs so far, but I expect those creepy people will move out soon. I have more photographs. We shall see.
Which brings us to the subject promised in this blog last week which was 'Gang Stalking' (see 5 below). I am waaay too drunk at this point to do justice to the subject, so I'll leave it 'til next week. I will say that this is not a case of 'gang stalking.' On the contrary, this a case of what I call, 'personal terrorism.' To be more specific, this is a case of personal stalking where the stalker is wealthy enough to recruit 'ass-istants.' Such assistants have come and gone over the years, and they will continue to come and go, until I am able to figure out a way to nail the creepy Jewish lawyer Walter L Gerash to my bedroom wall. (Sue me, faggot!)
I write figuratively, of course: Walter Gerash is the very last person I would want hanging on my bedroom wall! Jesus, maybe (but not bloody-fucking likely); Wally, no. Nooooo way!
Hmm. I just checked the clock: it's only six fucking thirty! I am on my last (11tth) beer. Only whiskey left. I'll save the whiskey for my final post tonight, Moksha.
