To Whom This Concerns: and to whoever else wants to read it; but you’re not starring in this episode…the whom it concerns are.

The Watchers at the edge of the World

If you are reading this letter, you are the Whom to this concerns, and it concerns the whose who of who s everywhere, and so would appreciate a moment of your time; hopefully catching you in just the sort of receptive mood that I need. To gain an appreciative ear of listening, to what I am about to put down…in this short essay on what I like to think of as “The Human Condition,” and what that exactly means in the 21st century rewrite of history that is ongoing as we speak, with statues toppled, and an out with the old! In with the new mentality; that is a good mentality to have but; one should also Rememher that the rune for out with the old and in with the new…is the death rune. And despite its ancient connotations, and proximity to sixth century calamity, I find such a comparison a very tightly fitting piece of architecture, holding up one of the pillars that we lean on. Lean on to keep us upright, with a no nonsense approach to thinks like physics, and the laws of science, that keep the further reaching ideas and dreams at bay…in the realms of fantasy, science fiction, horror and the like. My plan is to roll them all into one, in a collection of fairy tales, that would be so terrifying, that they would engender the type of response that was the answer to H.G.Wells in the 1930’s…at the height of the Great Depression, in a dust bowl…during an epidemic of counterfeiting…and we only remember,her the gangster movies…and if some of us are a little more skewed…the work camps of Western Canada…the forced labor that was used to build the national parks…I wrote a paper referencing that about 25 years ago, and sometimes wonder what ever happened to it, in its life on the internet. Is it lost, alone and just a file sitting their in the dark, waiting to be read, and thus paving the way for people to understand that my theories on western Canada, as out,a dish as they seem…have a pretty solid basis of knowledge behind them. I did study it after all, and not just using it as a target for my alternative earth.

This is where my story mixes right up, and could be getting me into trouble…it is the constant merging of storylines, from real to perceived, and back to real events again…so much so that one begins to dismiss it all as a flight of fancy…at least if you are a local. If you are more distant, and able to see from a distance, and maybe have a bit more knowledge of todays current technological know how and behaviors…then you could see the danger forming…with regards to the animosity laden tirades that I go on, repeatedly…I have an excuse…it’s actually really good, but requires me to play a card that I was not really wanting to play…the disability card. I have one. It’s my language, the angry, violent, vitriol spitting invective against the corporations in my story.

I do not mean to sound so angry; but am fully justified in it. The real that I am adding to the story is the fact that the trauma has gone on unabated for 17 years, and cannot be alleviated without the acquiescence of the corporations who laid the curses on me in the first place. And they, instead, ratchet up the tension each day…so that my minders (a new generation) only see the swearing, the spitting, and the stasis. It is the stasis that causes me to become so angry. Angry enough to be labelled a terrorist though, is really reaching, and wouldn’t you know it…a trigger to set me off. My symptom is recognized by the federal government of Canada as a disability…but only in government employees. In me, they denied its existence, and yet I languish with a maliciously blackballed record, and a bunch of extremely dubious doctors records, missing and doctored, along with incidents involving the police, that are the total purview of the investigative arms of the branches of government who okayed this behavior…and the really, really upsetting part is…if I defend myself in any way…I will be drugged and hospitalized…and those drugs are terrible…they totally messed up my mind…and my behavior…but the doctors couldn’t be bothered to recognize, interview or otherwise treat me like a human being…so I am angry at doctors…it doesn’t mean I am going to tear my country apart? Jesus…only a piece of it…the piece that belongs to me…there was a deal…they haven’t lived up to their ends, not in the slightest…and have robbed me blind…denied me any recourse to rights, self determination, or even the right to defend against barbs of attack.

I have been subjected to severe, court enabled, abuse that continues, and has done for 17 years.

I have been subjected to severe slander, rumor, and accusations of wrongdoing that are life destroying in their impact. They are ignored, never discussed, and not ever looked at by judges who were obviously either being paid off! Or incompetent.

I have not only been robbed blind, I have been stripped of anything belonging to me, in an orgy of violence; based on believing the rumors that the people who started them in the first place should know, are total bullshit.

The numbers are staggering. The incidents are staggering, the participants are flabbergasting. But most of all…the sociological response by my isolated community…is disturbing in the extreme. It keeps in me a perpetual state of anxiety and nervousness. Out of fear of when the lynch mob is going to show up…or when the grandson of the man who robbed me when I was eight…comes to kill me for saying nasty things about his grandpa.

Discrimination, depredation, violence, alienation, financial security destroyed, paper security destroyed…scorched earth…and all because of my DNA…and my daughters…and an ignorant, credulous, uneducated, backwater South African Doctor…she should be charged to the highest extent of the law…but by whom. You see…I am not in Canada…it is pretty obvious when you finally see all the pieces…not that I can convince anyone…my locals are dumb as posts…cunning, deceitful, greedy…but dumb…they exposed themselves as amateurs…they not only took everything, they destroyed that which I had utilized to make it in the first place but; the thing that gets to me the most, knowing now what I know about then…was the sneering snobbery or affectation that these people assumed in their lives, as they were so very superior to everyone around them…and I just thought of someone to text…to track down my insurance fraud leak. Don’t ask me why, but my little bit of magic is to throw out thousands of words, almost nonsensically, until my mind empties, and an epiphany hits…this one is the name of the woman who…tripled my insurance after swearing it would be cheaper if I shopped local…and simply repurchased my already existing insurance package and charged me 2500 bucks as a gratuity…in a fiasco that has continued since…with me being spit on as a criminal so therefore it is allowed.

The Claw

Criminal is the sheer amount of bullshit that this experiment is. My main issue is wondering how and why these people feel that they are allowed to do this. Am I supposed to freak out and kill one of them? Is that the experiment? It isn’t going to happen, at least not in the terms you think; but in terms of blackmail…as in, I am about to begin a legal form of blackmail against various agencies, some of whom I know have members who have tried to kill me but; I cannot walk away…they stole my Jeep back in April and they have not done a thing to replace or pay for it, only mumbling once about a pay out that keeps dropping if I call…I called the broker like the rules say, and the broker responded by calling the agent, who snapped my head off for daring to call, even though it had been months…now I am getting angry.

My plan is to email some people tonight, and hopefully get a response…there is a massive reason to come and look at this…it seems everyone is too far gone, shoving their heads up their asses to care…but while idiots are threatening nuclear war, and tactics are deciding future borders, and the rules of future wars…there is a first contact thing going on up here…with me…and a shit ton of alien types…and I am pretty sure, from what I can gather after years of this…they bought this place, are the owners, and wish to make a property complaint about the condition it is in. Hence finding me…or rather, disclosing their existence to me; which has resulted in a great deal of anger…yes, I have s9mething anger issues to work through…they’ve been following me around for twenty five years at least…one or two of my photos might attest to that…the one in red square kind of scares me.


Yes, it does not just look like a head…

For Sale: Each item can either be destroyed ( video tape and my word is good, discreetly mailed, or in the case of this beauty…to be picked up in person…which will cause some tension I am sure…Tax is inclusive, I am and was always a legitimate businessman…it’s the people you meet…man are they bankrupt in the morals ends.

The Shootout!!

The addition I intended for last Friday to accompany this rant, in the middle of a post on the more romantic side of alien invasions, sans the ladies (which is getting pretty depressing, but not so nearly as depressing as the strangler sneaking up my hallway right now, in his tiny goes future as strangler #1, for about the thirty seconds it will take me to carve his heart from his chest…being a Buddhist is hard when you are the most hunted prize in all the world of the order of things and their attention to Dogma is about as visible as the soldiers in the photograph above… this is the sixth or seventh dimension of the mind and it is becoming a hectic place…hence this rapid note taking, so that there may be a record of my existence that differs from the historical records, because damned if I do, damned if I don’t, damned by everyone and their brother…so best I just continue in my vein, but… there have been third dimensional developments that are occupying my mind, and my mind is saying…”hey…hey, you…you do realize they’re all guilty as…. And the chair is to good for them rub their feet but that’s about it; it’s pay up time or the little death cult will get its comeuppance.

Sunset on the night of Knightly Vigil

It is Shortly after dawn, August 23,2022 and I awake with trepidation. There is something in the air? I don a mask and get instantly to work, with a quick ritual, the dead surround me on all sides; they’re persistent; they are being herded towards me, where I act as a conduit for the dead to pass through to the other side. It’s a job, I guess, but they have yet to remunerate me for any of my participation/ enslavement, and I ignore them all and go about my day, while a spectral horned head, half the size of the horizon flares down from up on high…I sigh…another day, another feeling of helplessness in the face of what I term the criminal abuse of the powers that be; who owe me everything, pay nothing, and expect me to defend the world in exchange for being victimized… what would you do works?.

There is something decidedly despicable about what’s has gone down here in good old grande cache Alberta, where the clandestine worlds whose who of slime congegate in private contracts to guarantee their souls perpetual damnation each day that this garbage continues and each day the midden heap of lies and betrayals grow, and the self serving and self righteous puppet masters shift uncomfortable in their seats and hope the audience doesn’t realise how turned on they are getting with each disclosure made; thinking that in these last monents, their crimes can be blamed on their victim, the mentally shattered slave they have spent their lives defrauding and gang raping, trying to play all the sides in the end of the world prophecy that no one needs to know and no one needs to care about, so long asthe powers that be get their fuckening on and play it again and again, until their Manchuria canditate is the perfect crazy fall guy to blame for their various racially based karmic debts…and who better to make your fall guy but an honest businessman, and royal scion, kept in the dark and fed a diet of shit…then told all the worlds ills are his fault and to buck up and fight the invading host…and maybe they won’t have to threaten his daughters future.

So you see, the reason that the world is actually on the brooms of Anna hi Latino is because the specially bred slave who is held hostage at the Center of time is being a bastard. And he is a white European so he is a slave trader, and a racist and a terrorist and a spoiled brat… and whatever the fuck else you scum have layered into my life…all of it lies, and myself; the victim of a horrendous crime, perpetrated by the powers that be and enforced by assholes in the esteemed…to the point that I end this story, amidst an alien invasion of earth with this note, and the shop, where I will sell my last possessions to raise mortgage funds for my false mortgage so I do not end up homeless, but there is one more story page to publish…it is the auction…where I will sell my mementos…along with account numbers.

Canada has completely fed my entire life with shit, murder and tragedy, stolen everything from me, and has allowed a criminal element to rape my work, abuse my child, mused my family…and they think they are in a position of control, and a moral high ground, because one of these dumb idiots buys right into the propaganda that they used to destroy my reputation ten years ago.

The page items will be explained, shortly with their provenance and history. The shop will be more mundane items…and hopefully, if anyone bothers to see and read this story…you might catch an idea of why I am so upset, and why I am playing brinkmanship with the whole world…to the point that I will end the story part with this note: I would rather the entire world end, than to have my daughter subjected to the abuse these Templar pigs will subject her too, beyond that of her insane mother. And to the world…I am sorry…I actually gave you so much that you do not know of, that was stolen by the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce: and the crimes committed against me…are worse than any concentration camp…these people have been pigs of the highest order andDf determination. I have spent my life a slave, and my masters have been slime.

Ederle accolades for ending the world on a sour note such as this. I could protect you you know, easily…I know who and what to do…I will not…because I have been denied in totality the right to seof knowledge and self determination … so that I could be lumbered with all the worlds crimes and sacrificed at the gates of dawn…to Satan…and the pigs that did this, take bets; thinking I will protect them…and all I demanded was torte…remedy for the fraud…and they will not even do that: so fuck them… The Next Page is called epilogue: and it is the culmination of the sum total of my feelings regarding this “game,” and I certainly hope you enjoy it, and get a clear understanding that the world you all sleep walk through is not the real world at all. And to my minders; if you have any decency in those non existent ideals in your bought and paid for ideology…ignore the masters of the order…they’re trying to set up for after the end…they were never trying to save shit…and you bastards owe me a royalty like no other…my invoices will be listed…starting with every single cheque written since February 4,2002 and BMO…I know who stole your (my) money…but I’m invoicing my commission…you blamed me for it…so I deserve to have been paid f

As I continue my non sensical ramblings on this post pre editing I should just like to add that this morning I wrote two lines to a poem with numbers that turned out to add up to my house address and my precise longitude based on them being added together which is disturbing in its own right since the numbers were all nines but to add to my existential dilemma I pulled twelve stones and laid the Celtic cross and got my astrology done by myself…so maybe it shouldn’t be unexpected that every single piece dropped added up to something profoundly exact in my life previous, present and my future looked scary as can possibly be, ending with the death of all things literary.

So hidden within the above is a pathway to my realm, which is certainly not the one I was born in; but by virtue of living at the centre of time, on the trine, at the bottom of the four great wheels that make up the cogs of our planes of existence, you tend to eventually become blasé about the fact that the impossible goes on around me every single day and in order for me to keep my sanity as I am run through this gauntlet of games…you’ve survived the worst of it by now, have come out ahead in the whole soul salvation side of it, you just now have to make it all fit together into some semblance of order so you don’t get arrested and hospitalized as soon as somebody in a position of authority and lacking in any imagination at all gets a report on a report that might mention in the footnotes that the sacrifice has gone off reservation with the aliens, and is preparing to jaunt gaily into the future, just as soon as I smack that little leprechaun in the nose.

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