Today, something happened.  Today, I achieved insanity. I have crossed the line into total fearlessness and a totally aggressive posture. It's a very comfortable feeling. Any doubts I may have previously entertained are gone.

Insanity, you ask.  Why is that an achievement?  Because it enables me.  It frees me from fear.  It's standing at the crap table in a Tahoe casino and pushing all your chips onto the Don't Pass line.  Going for the glory.  Going for the win.

Hell, I'll never win.  I have the forces of the US government arrayed against me and I am certainly not a fool, although I am continuously treated like one. I know I won't come out on top. It's an impossibility  You sometimes  have to take the three pointer instead of the touchdown, regardless of how hard you've fought to just attain the 40 yard line.

Now, this isn't how I've come to understand it is supposed to work.  This program is designed to convert me into a weeping, cowering useless blob of protoplasm, a craven individual who shakes and shudders at the mere thought of leaving my home in daylight. To force me into suicide to alleviate the pain. Well, it has had the opposite effect.

This is a deadly chess game.  Pawns are plentiful and will be willingly sacrificed, should the need arise.  The truly comical thing about it is the pawns don't know they're pawns.  They don't realize they are expendable in order to protect the king.  So I ignore the pawns.  They're fools, easily bought.   I'm hunting the rooks and bishops.  I'll never capture the queen or checkmate the king.  But a rook or a bishop will have to do.

The "flight or fight" syndrome is widely known.  I can't flee.  That luxury has been denied me by the incessant harassment, stalking and DEW attacks which have occurred on four continents, if you include Central America, which, I suppose,  can be considered as half a continent, for years.

Yeah, back in Miami in 1999, you had me on the run.  Terrified.  Confused. Intimidated. Insecure.

No longer.

You've crossed my abuse threshold.  The obvious eventual goal of all this is to drive me crazy and then finish me off.  Well, I'm still here. I'm far from crazy.  I'm just insane. I will fight.  I have no other choice.

So, scumbags, if you feel safe in your anonymity,  don't.  Because, occasionally, you expose yourselves.  I'll be there, lurking.  Looking for an opportunity.  Seeking an opening.  It ain't quite working out the way you planned it.  The gauntlet has been thrown.

I have always sought peace. Always.  I've had more than enough of war in Africa.  Now, it's been dumped in my lap by these establishment lapdogs, these pawns, these mercenaries, these low-rent psychopaths who blindly and sadistically do their psychopathic masters' bidding.  So be it.

Harass and stalk me at your peril, regardless of who you are.  Death is but a door opening, the last great adventure.  Do what you have to do.

I will.