Stalker Saturday, when the white trash climbs out from underneath their rocks.  Another beer run to Walmart about about 0030 local time.

This time, when I left the store, I was, as usual, on high alert, but nobody showed.  No one sitting in a car with headlights aimed at me.  No one lurking in the shadows.  I guess they finally got the message.

I had loaded the AR into the truck, along with some spare magazines.  You can never have too much ammunition.  They got the point.

One thing that never ceases to amaze me is the collective naivete of the American middle class. For some some obscure reason, they think they can't be touched.  They think they're "safe." Collectively delusional.  That is, until extreme violence comes home to them.

Then they ask, "Why me?"  I'm a nice guy, or woman.  I pay my bills and pay my taxes.  How can this happen to me?

That, I believe is due to the fact that we have historically been shielded by oceans.

But, you poor, stupid pitiful bastards, the system you have trusted for so long has finally sold you out. And you never saw it coming.

Start backyard gardens, if you have a backyard.  Arm up.  Buy firearms and plenty of ammunition. Learn how to use firearms.  Your very lives will depend on it. Hoard everything you can get your hands on, because the bottom is about to fall out, and only the strong will survive. Food, water, meds, toilet paper, unless you wish to wipe your asses with a handful of leaves. Batteries.  Camp stoves and plenty of fuel. Buy a bicycle, unless you prefer walking, and many of you can't walk a city block unassisted.The rest of you will starve. Or get overrun.

Only the strong survive.

Went on a cigar and beer run to Walmart tonight a little after midnight in this little shithole of a town. Entered the store, picked up a 12 pack of Heineken and headed out the door.  So guess what?

There, in the parking lane behind me, was a pickup with two people sitting in it with the headlights illuminated, aimed at me.  So I loaded the beer into the truck, got in, started the engine, rolled the left window down so that if I had to fire, the blast wouldn't destroy what is left of my hearing, stuck the Sig under my left thigh, didn't fasten my seat belt in case I would have to rapidly evacuate the vehicle, and doubled around on them, ready to fire at a moment's notice.

As I approached them from their right, they shut the lights off and became very nonthreatening very quickly. Very smart move.  I was gonna blow their fucking windshields out.

You can buy these white niggers for 20 bucks and a six pack.  Fucking trailer trash. They're a dime a dozen in this miserable fucking town. Just can't get good help these days, I suppose. Times are tough, but not as tough as getting your faces splattered with .3555 diameter bullets, Speer Gold Dots, the best there are, moving at 1450 fps. And if I must, I will wield the AR, firing 62 grain LAP @ 3200 fps.  I'll dump a 30 round mag into your truck cab and reload. That will fuck up your day.

You are on notice.

I have repeatedly said it before, and you never seem to learn. You seem to be intent upon committing suicide.

Trust me.  I will send you to Hell.

I don't give a fuck anymore.

Stalk me and die.

Five Finger Death Punch - The Tragic Truth

I don't know who reads my stuff.  I very rarely get a comment on any post.  Ukraine, Poland, Ireland,Germany, Australia, Canada, Singapore, China, Russia, Argentina, the States, and all the others, too numerous to mention... I don't know who you are out there, but believe this:  I write to express deeply held emotions and convictions that I choose to share with the world, and for no other reason whatsoever.  So take it for what it's worth.  An angry old man's ramblings, about the injustices that have been perpetrated upon me and others in my classification, a Targeted Individual.

I fight.  I will always fight, and to the death. I will never, ever quit. Regardless of the treacheries and betrayals, I will not surrender.

Take my advice:  trust no one, because if you do, you will be severely disappointed, as I have been.

You're on your own.

Linda Ronstadt ~ Poor Poor Pitiful Me

Dedicted to Victoria Beelke Johnson...

Just got thrown under the bus by Stalked in Oklahoma. She doesn't like the way I drink. I drink to assuage the isolation and solitude, the abject loneliness we TI's often feel because of our targeting and, also the fact that, at almost 72, my friends are dropping like flies.

I have wept for her, prayed for her, offered almost continuous emotional support for her for almost two years as she underwent her torment, and now this?

In my almost 72 years on this planet, I have yet to meet a woman I could really trust. All but one. Looks like I was again mistaken.  But I will handle it, as I always have handled the major disappointments in my life.  She is welcome to go it alone. As will I. Sure as hell won't be the first time.

Now she is taking refuge with her daughter in Conroe, Texas, and is no longer living in Ada, Oklahoma among psychopathic Chickasaws who tortured her continuously for over 18 months, married to a true psychopath who likes to run around in the back yard wearing nothing but a fucking dog collar! Can you believe that?

As Jimmy Buffet sang so many years ago, "...in the tropics, they come and they go."

If you're going to survive in this perverted game, you gotta develop a very hard shell.  It is the only way to survive. That, and a good compliment of functional firearms.

Come to think of it, I have encountered three female TI's that I have developed a relationship with, and every single one of those white trash bitches has thrown me under the bus.

Sarah Doremus in San Francisco, Tammy Battaglia in Ohio, and now Victoria Johnson in Texas, late of Oklahoma.  They use you like toilet paper, play on your sympathies, and then discard you when they don't need you any more.  And man, do they have stories to tell.  By now, I've finally figured out the stories are mostly bullshit, created out of whole cloth to garner sympathy. No more. No more feminine bullshit for this old warrior.

Fucking damsels in distress.  "Po', po' pitiful me." They can cry to someone else.  This old man is FUCKING DONE!

They can all go fuck themselves, from this point onward.  Cry the blues to someone who gives a shit.  I will no longer sacrifice myself on the alter of some whimpering female. I have had more than enough of crying, whining TI women.

You have it tough?  So do I.  I've been targeted for 35 fucking years by these psychopaths.  Think you could deal with it? I have, and still do on a daily basis.  I carry two handguns and an AR 15 wherever I go, and a big fucking dog, as well.  If I can't go there armed, I do not go.

I held that ungrateful bitch together emotionally for almost two years and I get treated like dirt?  What the fuck was I thinking?  I got sucked in again.  They say the third time's the charm.  It certainly is with me.

I have had enough of this female bullshit, or these crybaby male TI's who don't have the balls to pick up a gun and go hunt stalkers like I once hunted Cape buffalo, with malice aforethought. They sign petitions that nobody reads, post newsletters filled with useless bullshit,  testify at "conferences" where nobody listens to them, and file futile lawsuits that always seem to get thrown out of court.

So, Victoria Beelke Johnson, you treacherous bitch, you are cordially invited to kiss my Irish ass. You told me I brought you back from death.  I should have left you there. It certainly would have saved me from a lot of grief.  This is how I get repaid?  Now that you have your daughter to hold your hand, you don't need me anymore, so it's under the bus with me.  Well, fuck you, lady.  Fuck you very much. I hope you rot in Hell.

Life's not fair.

No shit?

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863

I am sick of war, but I have no choice, so I will fight on.

Those who contest me had better look to themselves, because I am furious and I am likely to fire at the slightest insult delivered by a nigger, white or black, or I am likely to shoot the cab out of a pickup in the Walmart parking lot with its lights on bright aimed at me, and convert everything in the cab to strawberry jam.

Do you punks really want to die this badly?  I will gladly accommodate you. All I will feel when I do it is slight recoil.

So continue to seek me out.  Your very lives hang in the balance.  Many of you are kids, who think you can live forever, until you get hit with a 62 grain 5.56 penetrator in the forehead.  That will cancel your hopes and dreams forever, and you will rot in hell.

So bring it on, slimeballs.

I have had enough.

Five Finger Death Punch- Bad Company

And I am...