Some prick was at my computer again while I slept.

I was up all night watching videos and on the Net and when I shut down, I ran a cleaner I use and left the computer on standby, as if I give a fuck whether or not they are in it, anyway, because the damn thing is thoroughly hacked.

So when I woke up this evening and sat down at my desk, the computer had been turned completely off. Totally powered down.  Had to completely reboot.

These people represent the face of true evil on the Earth.  They are Satan's spawn and they will have some very unpleasant surprises when they cross over into the next realm, as we all eventually will.

They have made Faustian bargains, and I hope they enjoy their time in the sun, because their eternities will be spent in the darkness.

The war continues.  I will never quit. Never. Occasionally, I weaken.  Even a line soldier gets some R and R.  There is none for me, and I accept that.

They know their lives hang in the balance.  Haven't noticed any stalkers, particularly since I added the hi-cap 357 Sig auto to my carry collection.  It is a very powerful, deadly accurate and totally dependable handgun with devastating power.  I will use it at the slightest provocation, backed up by my trusty .45 auto.

So steer very clear of me, assholes, if you wish to continue to live.

We have the Stand Your Ground law here in Florida, and I will use it to my fullest advantage.

This is a very interesting piece on the techniques of mass mind control...

 http://jonrappoport.wordpress.com/2014/05/23/the-basis-of-mass-mind-control-2/

The prick across the street obviously now has a bodyguard.  Twice in the last week or so he has tried very obviously to get me to take a shot at him.  Previously, he hardly ever exposed himself.  This asshole must live in la-la land if he thinks I'm gonna take a shot at a sitting duck, him, when he very obviously is covered by his own shooter.

I haven't zeroed any of my rifles in a year.  I have every reason to suspect that my scopes have been tampered with and the zero changed.  This guy is dumber than he looks.  Or maybe not, because he certainly looks like some trailer trash they hired for this gig, gave him some training on how to operate the EMF gear they have provided him with, and put him into a decent neighborhood for very likely the first time in his otherwise pitiful life.

I may get around to sticking a 160 grain TSX into his chest cavity, or I may not, but I would have to be a complete fool to fire on him with any of my rifles, even at a range of 70 yards.  So he can walk around outside like a sitting duck all he wants and I'm not going to take the shot, unless and until I have verified the zero on every rifle I own. And then maybe not. He is hoping I will expose myself by lining up for a shot standing out in the open so his shooter can nail me from heavy cover, of which there is an abundance beside and behind his house and his pet thug can get the first shot in, which only confirms my belief that my sights have been tampered with.

If it looks too good to be true, it obviously is.

As we used to say when I was a kid growing up in Alabama, "My momma didn't raise no fool."

His apparently did.

I now know I have a team of at least two assholes on me.

I was sitting here surfing the net last night when I heard three knocks on my garage door.  My back door was open to the cool night air, with the exterior light illuminated.

I got up, drew the .45 and took my light into the garage.

I got suckered.

While I was in my garage checking it out, which took about two minutes, an asshole jumped the privacy fence in my back yard, entered my home, and kicked a video game controller laying on the floor from the left side of the wall unit to the right, and fled. He just wanted me to know he had been here.

What's the first rule of attack?  Create a diversion.  They did, and I fell for it.  That will be the only time that happens.

Now I know I have to kill two assholes instead of just one.

BTW, forgot to mention.  The cunt across the street is gaslighting me again.  Things disappear for a few days and then reappear.  Same old shit, same old playbook.  It does get boring after a while.

Stuck on stupid.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

How's this for blatant stupidity?

I sleep with my Colt .45 1911 auto pistol on the night table adjacent to my bed.  I keep it always in Condition One;  that is, cocked and locked with a round chambered, so in order to fire it, all I have to do is grab it, flick the thumb safety to the Fire position, and have at it.

I am a firearms expert, having been initially trained as a nine year old how to shoot and how to safely handle firearms. I have been both a competition rifle and pistol shooter. I've fired myriad weapons during my life. Rifles, pistols, revolvers, shotguns, sub-machine guns, assault rifles, and crew served weapons, including heavy machine-guns. I am a life long hunter.

There are several basic rules one must adhere to when handling firearms, whether loaded or unloaded.  The first is NEVER touch the trigger unless you are preparing to fire.  Never. The second is ALWAYS check to see that the manual safety, if the weapon has one installed, is set to SAFE. There are a few other very important basics, and these have been ingrained in my psyche since childhood.

When I woke up late this morning after sitting up and immersing myself in a good book all night, I checked the .45.  Didn't touch the trigger.  Thumb instinctively went to the manual safety to ensure it was engaged.  Guess what?  It wasn't.  It was set to FIRE.

This is far from the first time this has happened.  I've lost count but I think this was either the fourth or fifth time during the past several years of harassment that this has happened.  Once on my short-barreled shotgun I also keep by my bed, and three or four times on my .45.  I was not in the least surprised.

This is a graphic demonstration of the almost continuous stupidity and lack of originality exhibited by these cunts.  They keep repeating the same behavior over and over again, expecting a different result.  That, as I recall, was Albert Einstein's definition of insanity.  These stupid fuckers use the same playbook, time and time again, hoping for a different result.

Now, you must really be a total low-rent dumb fuck to be a professional perp.  They move you into a house or apartment near the target and from there, you carry out your amateurish little terror campaign.  They give you a car that's a couple of years old, pay you a few hundred bucks a week, and make you feel like a BIG MAN.  When, in fact, all you are is just another third rate sneak thief and break-in artist who probably burglarized little old ladies homes and stole their costume jewelery before coming to work for these scumbags.  Which automatically makes you even a bigger scumbag than you originally were.

This asshole living across the street from me at 940 King's Mountain Road, DeLand, Florida, USA 32720 is just such a scumbag.

I don't know if  the bitch thought I was gonna pick up my pistol and immediately blow a hole in me, my dog, or the wall, but it only demonstrates his level of  massive stupidity by returning to one of the same old pathetic, failed, fraternity-boy pranks and thinking his pitiful attempt would work when all the other perps have failed. Of course, the only fraternity this asswipe has ever belonged to is the fraternity of thieves.

My sweet, good God!  What a stupid fuck he is! It is much less difficult to pity someone like this than it is to hate them.

Along with torturing my friend, Stalked In Oklahoma to death with EMF outrages, they are doing the same thing to her helpless cat.

They love to torture cats.  The killed my cats a few years ago, pushing them electronically off their food when I complained about this nappy-headed nigger who used to stake out my house in his pickup truck, to the bugs in my house.  So they took revenge on my cats.

The son of a bitch would park nosed in to the dead end street adjacent to the house I lived in then and just sit there.  This went on for a couple of weeks and I finally got fed up with it.

One day I was returning from the library and there he was, nosed into the dead end street again by my house.  I pulled into my front yard and he began backing out onto the through street to leave, so I backed out also and took off after him.  He was driving a Ford F-150 pickup and so was I.  I cut my teeth on British sports cars and Benzes and I know how to take a corner, drift, play the throttle, downshift and apex drive the curve.  I stuck right on his worthless black ass as he tried for about ten minutes to lose me. We went up and down neighborhood streets at full throttle with a lot of hard braking and cornering, and he couldn't gain an inch.  He failed.

I finally ran him to ground and he pulled into a black apartment house and hid in the back for a couple of minutes and I waited for him on the street.  He finally pulled out to confront me and parked on the opposite side of the road and got out with his hands under his armpits and leaned up the tailgate with a sneer on his face.  He was obviously armed and he had dropped his partner off in the shadows created by the apartment building to cover me.

Now, having lived and worked in many black countries in the Caribbean Islands and having flown for several years in Africa, I get along well with blacks. Used to even speak a good bit of Kiswahili. But this guy was a nigger. Not a decent black, but a ghetto nigger.  There is a world of difference in character types. This asshole was pure scum. He stood there talking his nigger shit at me, telling me I'm an old man and I should go home and watch TV.  I told him, Well, I ran your worthless ass to ground, didn't I?  Meanwhile, I had my .45 aimed directly at his head and if he had shown a gun, even a tiny portion of one, I would have splattered his brains.  I told him his neighborhood privileges were permanently revoked and drove off.  I often wish, looking back, I had blown his fucking head off.

So, later in my house, which was thoroughly rigged with cameras and microphones just like the one I now live in is, I expounded on nappy-headed niggers in pickup trucks.  That's when they attacked my cats.  Cowardly cunts.  They are true psychopaths, as we are all well aware.  I had to put one cat down and the other ran off and later starved to death.

So I already owe these fuckers two lives and one day I just may collect. It could happen at any time.

But I'll tell you one thing: that nappy-headed piece of ghetto shit never showed up on my street again.

They're about to kill Stalked in Oklahoma by initiating a heart attack.  She is currently in severe pain.  If she dies, I will publish the names of her tormentors and murderers here.  They will be outed.  They will have their names spread worldwide.  I will make sure of it.

And that fat psycho bitch and her psycho father's names will be at the top of the list.

They will know your names in China, Belgium, the UK, Singapore, France, Indonesia, Australia, Argentina, Germany and a dozen other countries where I have a readership.  As well, of course, as here in America.

Got stalked a couple of times yesterday.  Once in the drugstore where I went for cigars and the other at the super market where I went to cash in some loose change.

They have learned better than to exhibit aggressive or threatening behavior.  They now act very passively.  But if they show even one modicum of aggression, I will blow so many holes in them that you will be able to read a newspaper through the holes.

They just stand there.  Changed their MO.  So from now on, God help the poor bastard who walks into a drugstore and just wanders around, buying nothing, until I am ready to check out and then grabs a Coke and gets behind me in the checkout lane.  That is very evident perp behavior.   I will turn and fire repeatedly until he is down. The same goes for the guy just standing in the lobby of the market doing nothing. Just standing there. Making his presence known. I am not intimidated, shitbird.  Not at all. He's cannon fodder, also.

Hell of it is, most of them look alike.  And a lot of them smoke cigarettes, which is good, because they are condemning themselves to a slow, horrible death.  They are usually around 40, around 6 feet tall, with their little chinbushes they think makes them look tough.  Well, assholes, you're not tougher than a .45 caliber bullet.  A couple of those and you'll wilt like a dead flower.  Or should I say, a poisonous weed.

You'd better take this to heart, you scumbag motherfuckers.

Enough is enough!

Five Finger Death Punch - Battle Born

Theme song...

My wonderful friend, Stalked In Oklahoma, is about dead.  They are slowly and very painfully torturing her to death.

If I could get to her, I would simply kill her attackers and their entire families, but I can't.  I'm stuck 1500 miles away with little money.

I would take a couple of my very accurate rifles with me and begin picking them off like ducks in a shooting gallery.  I am a highly trained shooter. I know how to conceal myself and fire from cover and concealment.  One shot; one kill.

But there is nothing I can do to save her.  It drives me up the wall.  These psychopaths need to be summarily executed.  Hell, I have one living across the street from me with his ugly wife.  He rarely comes out of his house, because he sits in there all day like a mole in his hole and plots my destruction.  He's a dead men.  He just doesn't know it yet.

If my friend in Oklahoma is finally tortured to death, all bets are off.  This slug had better only appear when I am asleep.

My heart breaks for Vikki.  There is nothing I can do and I love her.  She is truly a holy woman, very close to God and his angels.  She has helped me open up my spiritual side which once was very active but I gradually suppressed because of the attacks that have been taking place for over 34 years now.

If she dies, all bets are off.