School Privilege [sko͞ol] [ˈpriv(ə)lij] NOUN

any member of organized crime who uses their employment at a school, public or private, as a cover for crime. "ever since I got this job as a school councilor with my new school privilege the cops can no longer legally touch me"

Scene of the crimes:

Hello. Welcome to a webpage all about the obsessed madmen who stalk me.

Behold the 2 jobs that give the gang legal impunity to commit crimes anywhere in mid-Michigan without any possible legal scruitiny. Indeed, their "get out of jail free cards are good throughout the continental United States & they brag even much of the world. Go figure huh?

This page is written by a guy who's embraced "the truth". Spiritually, socially, & even scientifically (yeah, I'm into science as a hobby, go figure huh?).

If you're a... cop & have read this far you might ask. "What's your point"?

My "point" Sirs? My point is I'm being stalked by madmen & I want it to stop. My "point" is that once begun, up & until now, there is nothing that I, the target of stalking can say or do to extricate myself from my stalking situation. My "point" is, I want it to stop & my point is that I want YOU to stop it for me. Like you took a public oath to do. Please?

Pretty please with sugar on top?

Stalking Hurts

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

WHY NOT??? - Duh Jerk, Circa 1988 standing in the Defunct Hospital

They say that the truth shall set you free. Here goes.

Soooooooo... there I was, chatting at a chance encounter with various members of my family at different times throughout the year & they, like some of my acquaintances all had the same story.

"We met this guy who looks exactly like you". It sounded plausible. Don't most of us have doppelgangers of sorts? People who look a lot like us? One by one they all basically followed it up with another statement. "I thought it was you until he opened his mouth. He sounds nothing like you".

Eh, so the guy wasn't a perfect doppelganger. Big wupp. I'll admit. I wondered if the gang was involved but hey, come on, there's got to be some random chance in the world. Right? So I dismissed the notion as coincidence & nothing more.

The next part should be a huge story, if only so investigators might consider it's importance. 1st as... THE TRUTH. Next as to the mental state of a team of obsessed madmen still suffering from their bad case of penis envy brought on by their participation in the... wait for it... wait... participation in... "The Gym". A thing they still bring up to me a s a soft spot even now nearly half a century later.

1st, a word many... cops may not appreciate. I'll put this as humbly & respectfully as possible. Read & learn Sirs.

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

Time passes... but not much...

Tick tick tick..

...

Sooo there I was, picture me in my summertime street clothes, my pants are around my ankles & I'm strapped to a table, butt up to facilitate yet another beating, electoshock, & gang-rape. Giggly super funtime depending on what hyperchampion of justice you're talking to in mid-Michigan law-enforcement.

Duh Jerk told me he'd taken me off the drugs because he had something to show me. TMOMC brought him in. He was my dopleganger. My look-alike. Duh jerk wanted me to meet him & to see a few grainy films he'd made of the guy conducting a robbery/hostage situation at night, allegedly at some gas station.

The guy in the film was a 'you die', 'but you live' kind-a host to the gas station employees. What I recall most was the guy kept inviting the living & the soon to be dead to, and I quote. "I want you to look at my face".

Duh Jerk felt that having him have sex with TMOMC in front of me, being we'd only recently broken up, would hurt me. Emotionally.

I told him I broke up with the abusive woman. It didn't bug me one bit. Only the boredom.

Duh jerk was furious as I chose to use the time to catch up on my much-needed sleep & slapped me in the face & threatened me with great physical harm if I wouldn't watch. It was over quickly. Poor performance in my opinion.

Now Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars (Dirty Cop himself in attendedance in full uniform, gun, badge & all) delivered their ultimatum to me. "I can put you in prison for life any time I want so you'd better start listening to me". He expected obedience from me for the rest of my life or else he'd send me to prison for life!

I may have yawned when I replied (not arrogance nor boredom, but because of sleep deprivation torture) that I felt he wasted his time. "You can already send me to prison for life. So what do I care if you can send me to prison for life even worse"? When he rambled on about my assured destruction because of his new plastic surgey film puppet I told him I wasn't scared. I didn't think anyone would fall for him.

Duh Jerk made him recite all the relevent data of my life & seemed intimately aware of it himself. Where I lived, my schools, my friends, my driver's liscence number, social security number, & even those of my friends & immeadiate family. Birthdates, places I lived, you name it.

I said. "Wow. Even I don't know those numbers off the top of my head. You are better at being me than me".

That made Duh Jerk smile. Big time. He repeated I'd best give in to him now, or go to prison for life.

I said. "I'm not scared".

Duh Jerk was in a rage, his 4 Stars beside themselves aghast! He shouted. "WHY NOT"?!?!?!?

I retorted because it's easilly possible to prove it wasn't me in the films but a guy who looked like me. It was likely his body mesurments, limb lengths, & even facial bone structure would not match me in a sophisticated examination of any films. It'd be easy to prove it wasn't me, then would make my case for me. I thanked him based on I knew the people he'd interacted with & that they were all camera happy & if even a single picture of my doppleganger showed up in court it'd be a huge win for me. "all you did was waste a lot of time & money & ruin some poor innocent guy's looks".

They were stunned! Furious! Outraged & chat between them. Duh Jerk ordered me drugged anew whaile they openly talked about damage control. WHo knew what & "we've got to make sure we destroy every single picture" were the topics of discussion that I overheard. Over the years when they chatted about him they called him "Doug". They went to great lengths to sell the name Doug in my humble opinion.

...

Time passes... decades...

Tick tick tick..

...

Soooo.... The Last Snitch delived a new ultimatum. They bragged that they'd dispatched Doug into prison. 1st they'd tattood his face & body up & framed him to Death Row. Then they told him for execution day they'd kidnap me, tattoo me up, switch us, & then watch as I'm execute in his place. A fitting end where I could beg guards to consider I wasn't the man they think I am which he said was a common Death Row dodge to try & avoid an execution. "Besides, the guards will be in on it. No one's going to believe you" & they get to sit in air conditioned theater comfort & watch my death at tax-payer's hands.

...

Time passes... but not much...

Tick tick tick..

...

The latest threat? Sure. As if a madman's ramblings & threats mean much in freeing me.

"We've created the perfect copy of you".

He said at 1st they scoured police archives looking for a perfect copy of me or one who would be simple to alter & found none. So they picked a guy msaller than I. Used surgey to lengthen his limds to perfection. Added in face fillers & platic surgey so as to be a perfect undetectable copy.

Funnt what a mnadman with a lot of money will threaten to do huh"

Spell check later.

WHAT DID YOU DO... AFTER"???

It may be that investigators will ask, or demand of me a question. What did you do after... "this"? What did you do after... "that"? Of course that might lead to the question. What did you do after... "the other thing"? What the... cops should've added is what did you do in the face of obsessed madmen after this that & the other thing?

I can only guess what answer the Police will expect me to have but if their expectations can be gleaned from their countless interrogations that were spawned by my vain attempts to inspire a fair & impartial investigation it is that they figure I'd have some glamorous thing that I would've done after this, that & the other thing. What the... cops should've added is what did you do in the face of obsessed madmen after this that & the other thing?

What did I do "after" I prayed a lot. Not in vain repetitions, but in faith. Even when I was an atheist. If there is any glory to be had in the times "after" it is to God be the glory. I was never strong enough nor clever nor smart enough to have made it this far in life without him & that's the honest truth. I'm just some guy who prays with faith. Lowly, ignoble just a guy you might walk past on the street I'd suppose, especially if you were a mid-Michigan... cop & it looked like I needed help from my experiences. Your 1st reaction likely being to harass, intimidate & ultimately arrest me if I fall for any of your well-practiced word salads. Moving on...

Truth is usually I just picked myself up & dusted myself off. A lot of times I went home & sulked for days or weeks. I hear the underwear I wore while sulking, that is worn for an extended time and after a recently expanded rectum, will make for great evidence that I am in fact some pervert the gang brags. Speaking of my coming legal demise at their hands when some dirty Prosecutor holds up the soiled briefs & says look at these stains, convict this guy already! What the... cops should've added is what did you do in the face of obsessed madmen after this that & the other thing. What the... cops should've added is you didn't have clean underwear in the face of obsessed madmen after this that & the other thing?

Oher times, when I went home, I went there taking what I'll call my usual precautions to avoid a large Police manhunt, just in case. I know, I know, no innocent person would do that, no matter how many Dirty... cops may be out there menacing them or setting up the final phase of yet another take-down attempt. What the... cops should've added is what did you do to avoid US in the face of being stalked by obsessed madmen after this that & the other thing? No one avoids US, everyone likes... US, well, all the law-abiding people being stalked by madmen like US in any event.

Other times, not as much as you'd think I washed myself & my clothes before I went home.

Yet other times I just went home, still dripping in blood & all sorts of physical evidence the gang bragged me having to sleep off their drugs made easy to steal.

A lot of times I went straight to local law enforcement to file a police report. Sometimes addled by drugs & or sleep deprivation, sometimes not. But certainly, scarred anew by the fresh wound of the madness inflicted on me by obsessed madmen, some of whom wore badges & the uniforms that came with them.

Usually, I just dusted myself off. Went about my life as best I could.

Of course, many a time after this that or the other thing i went home to sleep. Maybe I was sleep deprived & I had to sleep. Other times I just wanted to rest, so, I slept.

What did I do... "after"? Does it matter? The way... cops explain it to me is you're a liar no matter what you do "after".

Why I asked many of them?

"Because if what you say happened to you happened to you happened to me I would act different". Do things differently than I, the Author of this website would do "after". It's only logical.

For the record Officers. Apparently, I am different.

"We own the cops". A common child-molester saying in & around Bay City, Saginaw, & mid-Michigan Public Schools, I heard it spoken to me often there both as a child student and as a captive during their rape parties as an adult

"The Circle"... how the gang gets things done... or, The most important thing...

"The Circle" that they use to manipulate drugged & sometimes sleep deprived victims, where they practice & film confronting victims over & over, slowly refining their technique as the victim travels from work station to work station in the "The Circle".

"The Circle" essentially is conducted in a large room or in a roughly circular hallway. 3-4 "workstations' are set up where a team of 4-8 children (yeah, I said formerly innocent little kids), teens, & adults man each station. They are all typically hard-core card-carrying gang members with a few new recruits (member/victims & unfortunate likely never to be law-abiding again victim/members. See: "Renfields" in my definitions) who have varying skill levels depending on how long ago they were recruited.

The victim is engaged at each workstation by the workstation crew in what is usually a skit of some sort. Be it mundane or confrontational. Such as playing house, interacting with a new friend (See: "Inserts" on my definition page), seduction a VERY important workstation to the gang), & confrontation. The theory being that the gang wants to gauge how a victim reacts at each point. Pushing victim towards the gang's goal. Being that they want to force them into public violence, find out what it takes for a little (formerly innocent) little child to seduce the adult. Falling back on their "Circle Film Footage" if their little kid seduction of an adult should fail. Violence being a key goal for the gang. They thrive in as "professional victims" so footage of a victim attacking them & theirs is worth more than gold (especially when the goal is to blackmail someone for life & take them for a lifetime of money). Racism is also a key goal (at least it is when they deal with me, the Author). The theory being that the... cops of America pretty much wont help someone they perceive to be a racist. The cop's public oath to protect them & the fact their taxes pay the... cop's salary meaning nothing to most of them. Thus, it is a supreme goal.

Victims are also tested by "The "Circle" at times. In theory the gang gauges a victim's response to certain social situations & practice it over & over, refining it every minute or so because their drug(s?) have robbed their victim of their long-term memory. They forget everything that happened 15-30 seconds ago. So the gang confronts them every minute or so with their murderous "Skit" (look up the word skit in my definitions pages) that is "The Circle". Changing the words & adding & subtracting props until their skit is refined to it's always, damning outcome.

Later the gang either uses their edited films of their successful work station of "The Circle's Skit" or confront their victim with the situation that the "primarily actors" of the gang have practiced & refined to perfection. The end goal being another victim/member who's ultimate disposition & place in the gang is up to the whims of the head torturer.

The Circle is my nickname for their murderous skit. If they have a name for it & it's participants I am not privy to it at this time 3-4-23

The Circle debases both the victim & the victimizers (such as newly recruited victim/members) alike. Once a recruit participates in The Circle the gang Bosses inform them that their films footage of them torturing victims for hours means they own them for life.

Describe it... simply put.

Here's how it works. Explained simply.

1st the victim is always put into a mentally addled state by drugs. this is often augmented by a week long R.E.M. Sleep Deprivation Assault on the victim & may include outright sleep deprivation.

Sleep Deprivation Technique (Standard): The victim is strapped to a chair or a table & slapped or pushed to keep them from waking every 30 seconds or so. This is often done by children but may be done by anyone in the gang big or small, young or old depending on gang personnel logistics & the whims of the Gang's Leader leading the given assault on said victim or victims. The victim is not allowed to sleep & is certainly mentally addled by the experience. Additional drugs may be applied to make the victim seem awake & otherwise alert during the coming filmed & choreographed PRACTICAL joke or filmed blackmailing encounter that the gang will perform on them in their usual highly practiced, choreographed, & rehearsed manner that they usually use. Complete with an assortment of props & edited in content by literally generations of experience torturing formerly innocent citizens.

R.E.M. Sleep Deprivation Technique (Standard): The usually drugged victim is awakened hourly or more to prevent them from entering a mentally necessary state called R.E.M. Sleep. Victims of such deprivation are left addled by the experience & more easily manipulated during their coming filmed, practiced & choreographed blackmail event or PRACTICAL joke session.

The Circle Applied: Eventually the victim, or more likely "The Victims" are gathered & tortured "warehouse style". In our example 5 Work Stations are set up & the victim is plied at each Work Station by trained & grizzled gang Regulars & an assortment of member/victims & victim/members who are either in training (AND films do in fact facilitate blackmailing them further down the gang's metaphoric "rabbit hole" of blackmail & indoctrination). Each Work Station's Members are assigned a specific task. Usually site's Work Station Encounter leads up to the next escalation in The Circle.

The Circle is filmed at all points & from different angles. This facilitates always having a film that shows the gang members as a victim IF their addled victim should become violent, let slip damning or incriminating statements or acts, or should just go nuts or become completely unmanageable.

We'll use my last "Circle" as an example. While I'm not sure what the ultimate goal of that particular "Circle" was I'll leave it to Officers to use deduction to speculate what may have been that "Circle's" ultimate goal (in lieu of a gang-sent "snitch" to explain it as Duh Jerk so delighted in the past)?

"We own the cops". A common child-molester saying in & around Bay City, Saginaw, & mid-Michigan

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

5) Pain: I'm not sure what the ultimate goal of that Circle was. But the Circle turns & comes upon a rather large group of what I'm sure the films will show to be "innocent Children". I don't know what the goal of the outlined excercise was but I'll leave any investigatiors who may read this to speculate for themselves. But I suspect it was pain.

Remember I'm pioecing this together from scraps of memories. The overall goals & accusations/provocatiopns likely changed radically over time as I suspect the gang tried over & over to provoke me into performing an act or acts that their edited films & inserted witnesses & victim/members would confirm based on said film evidence.

I'm told it's more likely that they'll simply find a senario that a given victim can be provoked into, practice it to perfection, & then perform it in street theater fashion for the public leading to it's always damning conclusion. The blackmailing & or framing of another formerly innocent victim. ------------------------------------------------------------->>>

-------------------------------------------------------------->>>

4) The wind up & the pitch. Instruction Phase: Standing in line to get a food tray the people in line warn me of my peril at the hands of Police. The violence of my attackers. They present themselves as reasonable & make certain to point out the table at the corner of the circular area surrounding the kitchen stage. An assortmet of pistols, submachine gun pistols, & grenages in on the wheeled cart & they advise me to take weapons.

In short: Provocation --->>> Solution

1) Innocent Beginning: While in a warehouse of some sort (deduced by cargo boxes, forklifts, & trucks & a truck landing outside & such clues) one room was set up to look much like a public school Cafateria (now WHY would They choose such a location?) with 4 long tables where from 30-60 middle school children sat, milled about, ate, & chatted. Large Jocks gurded the exits.

The Center of the room had a busy cafateria with employees who set about cooking. Obviously everyone had orders to engage myself at all points whenever I came near. Several were in fact adults who were Uniformed Police Officers or just wore the uniformas. Everyone had attire apropriate to the School Employee Position they were acting as. Students, Cooks, ... cOPS, & even the Jocks who guarded the exits.

It was the goal of people around this station to engage me in conversation & usually with a finger point direct me to the next Work Station. They engaged in polite conversation, that truned to them being the victim based on I didn't belong there. I should seek permission to be there.

<<<--------------------------

<<<-------------------------

2) Authority Figure: Suited & wanted to chat. Mostly about how I wasn't supposed to be there. Mild provoking in their justified interrogation, 'what are you doing here'? & 'why don't you go over there"? pointing to the next station.

In short: Provocation --->>> Authority

3) Provocation: At the tray return dishwashing station I'm encouraged to dump my food tray & hand it over to a deep sink employee. Big Guys straight up provoke me, call me out to fight. The... cops show up, ask me what I'm doing there & direct me into the chow line where several of the crowd get into line in front of & behind me.

While they didn't have a dedicated "Handler" that time per se often at this point an insert, someone I've chatted with a lot is often at this stage in The Circle. It may be a casual acquaintance or even a former gang-inserted lover here. Standing by to control the situation if I or other victims (whom they've probably worked with prior to this encounter) should become unmanageable, semi-lucid, or just wont play along. Their main weapon against a victim is the phrase. "Calm down. You're dreaming". Since the victim is on a drug(s?) that makes them think they are dreaming I'm told this usually calms them down or empowers them to get the victim to act in a reckless manner because "it's all just a dream).

NOTE: With some people, like myself, telling them they are dreaming may not get the desired results. OR WORSE? Yeah, you can get the sick on sick murderous slimebag results you are hoping for, just try try again. The victim probably recalls little & their memory resets during their next encounter with Stage 1 where the process repeats leading to it's always damning outcome.

Sigh...

The... cOPS are there to presumable make arrests, film "reasonable discussions" against myself & other victims for use to prove their intentions later. The... cOPS are there to make arrests based on any filmed law breaking that the gang can provoke a victim to seemingly commit & to calm a victim who's not sufficiently provoked down & send them to the next work station, in this case isolatd from.

In short: "Hey... cOPS! We're the real victims here. Just look at these films".

<<<--------------------------

Cameras film the spectacle from every angle. It's perfectly safe because... cops everywhere will chant in unison. "Because no one would do that" when told such stories or when a victim is confronted with said film evidence.

BEGIN HERE:

Almost the story of my life, several times, LITERALLY!

Disclaimer: I see much room for improvement in the tale of "The Circle".

Problem is it's very upsetting to discuss & I've spent my daily ration of "hutzpah" or internal strength writing the pale version before you.

I'd like to reword it, particularly if I can recall the incident I chose to write about above better (as it was most alarming to me).

Disclaimer: Remember that "The Circle" is my nickname for this technique. If the gang has a name for it I am not privy to it as of 5-22-23

QUESTION: Lets say you are a Professional Child-Molester Apologist. You know? One of the many... cops who told me that they didn't work for the gang, weren't involved in any way, & felt they were above it all when they apologized & straight up lied for the gang because while you don't like molesters you don't see them as offensive (likely because you weren't invited to the recreational child slayings, but THAT is another story). Let say that's you. I pose the following questions with respect Sirs.

What do YOU suppose was the end goal of the above Circle? Huh? Still feel just as high & mighty as before? Are you still going to defend them because you personally have never seen them do anything "too bad"?

Honor? Integrity? To serve & protect? Do those words mean anything to you?

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

"I need a surgical double now"... I had to answer... I really did...

Soooooo... this is a tale from Fall of 1976. The Gym was going hot & heavy & death awaited me at my every turn. Attacks could & did come from any direction & at all times. Basically it was a time where my faith in God was put to the test as in my opinion I was not clever enough nor strong enough to meet the challenges that life, the world, & the Devil had chosen top throw at me in Bay City's School Shaped "E" for Evil in Fall of 1976. Not then, not now. If there is any glory to be had then to God be the glory who in his mercy let his praying servant live through the challenges of "The Gym".

Duh Jerk had decided to force me to a workshop of sorts during school hours where he had me routinely attacked. In it he claimed, on hidden camera (I didn't see a camera though many told me they saw the films of it. In the filmed sessions he proposed violent altercations & robbery & murders & insisted I plan them as part of a role-playing exercise.

My fellow students told me it was to have edited films of me suggesting any number of evil crimes & to have proof I was in fact organizing, planning, & leading said evil enterprises.

The coming class role-playing experience (Duh Jerk called it "Role-Playing excercises that will teach you the difference between good & evil". The only unusual things about it was that my parents had no close relationship with the school I was ever aware of. In fact in my opinion they cared nothing of my education as a rule except to hand out punishments when I handed them report cards that had the exact grades I'd told them months earlier the report card would show (Duh Jerk liked to confront me at the beginning of each marking period & tell me the grades he made teachers assign me, often saying. "I always make sure that your grades are never good enough to allow you to participate in any after-school programs". I never had grades sufficient to allow me to participate in a single after school program in my life where grades were a prerequisite. Literally.

Strangely, My Mother (I'll add in a few more hounours here. Honor Honor Honor) announced I was to attend this workshop & then immediately conducted an interrogation. The "theme" of the slapfest interrogation? "You wont go"! "You keep refusing to go"!

WHy was that strange? Because I didn't refuse to go & spent about 10 minutes of slapfest time explaining that fact. She just wouldn't stop hitting me long enough to let me get in a word edgewise. She seemed shocked when at the end of the interrogation I pointed out that I hadn't refused to obey her at any point. SHe'd just gone straight to hitting as soon as she finished her announcement that I'd attend my public mass attempted child murderer's workshop.

Me? They didn't call me The Good Kid back then for no reason, So I went there. After day 2 0r 3 (if I recall it right) I refused to attend after the 1st time he had me attacked en-mass there. A large group of children & high school students led by the Munger Boy 5.

Soooooo... Duh Jerk called My Mother (Honor honor honor) & asked her to order me to attend & participate in the exercises. So she did.

What'd I do? Well, they didn't call me The Good Kid for no reason back then. I attended & even participated to the best of my ability despite my fellow students telling me of the edited conversations in films they'd seen. The films allegedly made me look like the most vile killer & slimebag to walk the face of the earth, or so I'm told. I'd believe it because of 1 fact. I tried my best. It's what The Good Kid would do.

Didn't I try to get out of it? Yup. I went to the Police. Lots of them. Most told me to go no matter what. Some threatened me with illegal violence, literally. Picture uniformed Bay City Michigan... cops saying. "You go to his workshop or I'll take out my nightstick & beat you & drag you to his class". When I told them of the alleged film edits they threatened me all the more with illegal violence.

Children came to me & told me that Duh Jerk was impressed with my technical knowledge of alarms, how the police worked, the law, & how to conduct organized crime. "He's started planning his crimes by having you make the plan. That way if we ever get caught then he can take you down as our leader".

I thought. "Good plan". Especially since I was giving it my best. The worst part? In my opinion if he follwed my plans he was probably getting away with a lot of stuff.

Classes were conducted as a team effort & were most certainly coreographed. Duh Jerk sent someone ahead to check for witnesses, Then he entered, usually with groups of jocks guarding the door & at the windows to watch outside. Preteen girls deployed around him ready to form a defensive wall at a moment's notice (not unusual at all, it was a standard defense for him, he told me he had a lot of enemies to worry about). There was always an army of Jocks in the hallway & at the doors entering the wing & at the other end of the hallway near to the 8th Grade Science Room (what they "unofficially" called it, actually it was more of storage room where they kept the science stuff too with some old desks & chairs).

Duh Jerk might bring up a safe cracking job. I told him the best ways to find out how to get the info to more efficiently crack the safe, defeat the alarms. Set up watches, organize escape routes & such. All without prodding. In my opinion it was like I was teaching him these subjects. Surveillance gear, planning. I'd researched the subjects extensively over the years & new their technical aspects well. You name it. If it was evil & was a planned group crime we probably plotted & planned it then & there in the 8th Grade wing of the School Shaped "E" for Evil. Duh Jerk ate it up & usually smiled profusely the entire while that he demanded answers from me.

He asked me things like how to defeat this gizmo, that one. His friend was convicted of a rape, how could hen pervert the evidence so his friend could walk. If true I'll bet that friend of his walked away uncharged in my opinion. By my guess.

One day he came into the room alone (very unusual) & seemed to be flustered in my opinion. Very much so. He said. "I need a surgical double & I need it right away".

I told him to just use his "Death Mask scam". He creates plaster face impressions of all his victims & has a warehouse of sorts where he can make the faces of all of his victims available at all times, or so he told me during my earlier unsuccessful recruiting).

He complained it only works well at night, at a distance, & is best used on drugged victims. "No good. Come up with another plan".

I suggested if he wanted a surgical duplicate to just make one. He'd told me during my recruiting attempt that said individuals wore bandages for a long time after surgery & often required multiple surgeries to pass as their target. He could just use makeup to cover their stitches? Right?

No good he said. There's too much bruising & swelling after those surgeries. He needed a duplicate that could stand up to scrutiny right now.

So I thought about it. But not for long. Then I told him about a new technology I'd heard about. In the then new technology the way it worked was a cop could assemble a perp's face from available templates into a reasonable facsimile of their face & send it along the wire to a Police Database of known criminals which would spit out a list of people who look similar with previous records.

Duh Jerk initially called me a liar & like a good Bay City... cOP might say said. "You're lying. They cant do something like that". Explaining that it sounded too high tech to be real (then in Fall of 1976).

I insisted it was true & would work & that it'd be easy for his dirty cop to use. It's a user-friendly access & didn't require a lot of technical expertise, or so I was informed.

Satisfied he left in a hurry, not at the end of the hour like usual.For the record I attended them workshops of pure evil for about 2 weeks until Duh Jerk orchestrated a 2nd attack therein. A large group of children & Jocks attacked. SO I just never went again. I thought for sure he'd just call My Parents to order me to attend again but he didn't (that I know of).

My Fellow Classmates, my mass attempted murderers who... cops, Bay City Public Schools, & my own family insisted I should sit among told me they'd seen Duh Jerk using doubles of his victims in a whole new way & I've since received occasional updates on the subject now & then.

Allegedly most doubles thusly found come with criminal records that makes them very vulnerable to the gang's blackmailing ways, especially during the initial stage called "Recruitment". I'd suppose the recruitment could work both ways, as if a more lucrative target was spit out by said crime computer I'd bet the gang just might adjust their recruitment plans accordingly?

The kids I call "The Children of The Gym" told me that the doubles are particularly convincing to their drugged victims. They usually fool Police or people who've only met the target a few times. They said that unlike the gang's other surgical duplicates in the past (they'd used the tactic before I'm told) the new duplicates tended to look very close to the target already. Thus any plastic surgery to make them look identical to the victim was cheap, easy, & didn't take long. Unlike the massive & invasive & time-consuming surgeries & recovery periods they needed for their other victims in times past.

It's be almost a decade before they'd introduce me to their latest double, a man they called "Doug" in the Defunct Hospital. He was able to recite my life from memory. Names of myself & the people around me. Birth dates, critical information that even I didn't know like Social Security Numbers & such. In fact I told the man called "Doug". "You're better at being me than I am". To which Duh Jerk grinned from ear to ear.

They also told me the lifespan of said doubles isn't very long after they have concluded making films or public appearances framing the gang's victims.

The truth shall set me free? We shall see. Today's date is 7-15-23 & I'm not free of the gang for more than a few hours at best at this point. My face hurts & I've been violated & robbed.

In a way I've never left that workshop Reader. How so you might ask? To this day Duh Jerk during many of my abductions over the decades the gang often drugs me & conducts the same strategy. Duh Jerk, Fagboy, Duh Weasel, Shortstuff, even other Chapter Leaders too. Each asking me to plan this, that, or the other crime in filmed sessions of their own. The gang brag that sometimes I become lucid & refuse or attack. They just subdue me anew, wait for the drugs to reset my memory, & mask again. All on film, over & over & over & over & over & over...

They brag some of the crimes are committed just as I planned them out. An infallible technique that insures them of a good plan & an unbelievable Get Out of Jail Free Card that is ironclad, infallible. I hear that the edited films are really quite damning. Proof that my buttbuddies are in fact my great friends & or business partners or partners in crime.

Much of this was typed with a sore leaking rectum sitting in a pool of my own bile drippings with a sore mouth on 7-17-23. I dedicate this sentence & all it's glory to the mid-Michigan FBI. It's law enforcement excellence like your Sirs that makes my tales like this possible. There's no need to thank me & don't say I never gave you anything (it's more than any of "you" ever gave me). So please don't send me any money. Just knowing you're out there bring the kind of law enforcement excellence that made my website possible is reward enough for me.

Sigh...

As a Law Enforcement Professional you might ask. "How does a 7th Grade Dropout know all this stuff"?

Where was the Saginaw Valley FBI during this tale? Idano? They refused to help me though I asked repeatedly.

"I like to keep my victims well-informed. No one will believe a well-informed victim when they say that they didn't do it".

Bay City... cops negotiate with gang to take me down

The gang's plan is & always was to make people hate me for the human atrocity of standing up to them & their members regardless of their race, religion, sexuality, & ethnic origin. They impress upon me that the atrocities they inflicted on me & the power that comes with all their money & the influence they can bring to bear with their whores combined with my resisting them ensures them victory no matter what.

My opinion on the subject? Today is 10-14-23 & I answer to the Lord God & I'm not giving up.

IT WAS ALL TO KILL YOU... Didn't you figure that out?

Soooooo... there I was, bebopping along minding my own beeswax after having seen the Bay City Fireworks Display on or about July 4th. You see Reader a few days before I had watched the Bay City Fireworks Display while sitting in the Sears Parking lot close to the waterfront. The only strange thing was that while watching the show there was an explosion right across the way where the Fireworks Pit was launching the fireworks. The malfunction casued a spectacular display of fireworks on the other side of the river right where I'd normally likely be sitting. I'd sat there in years past but for no reason just up & changed my perspective this year. Not as glamorous as I make it sound. It seemed to me most people thought the Fireworks finale had come early this year. I was sad to hear later 6 people were injured & feared for a few of our political leaders who normally didn't attend but published that they'd be there this year. Sad, but these things happen. Life goes on.

Sooooo... there I was, bebopping along when a sent self-professed mouthpiece or snitch (at the time of this writing I forget which he claimed he was, today being 8-21-23 when I wrote this) approached me. The 5'1" or so young adult had some stuff he wanted to say.

He told me he knew I'd been in attendance at the Bay City Fireworks festival.

I told him in so many words big wupp. It was a public place. Lots of people knew I was there. So what?

He told me he knew I usually sat across the river from the spot where the fireworks explosion debris landed.

Yeah, I agreed. So what?

Then he claimed it was all a set up to kill me, publicly, in a way no one would question.

Me? Paint me as a skeptic Readers. "And you've come to tell me out of the goodness of your heart"? I added no one died & the location I sat at would've made serious injury unlikely, in my opinion.

He retorted. "We had an Ambulance & one of our crews right there". Plus a syringe crew. He claimed if I were injured I'd have been injected, carted off, & been the only casualty. A fact assured by the nearby Ambulance crew. "But you sat across the river that year. Why"?

No reason whatsoever. It may be that I pray daily for wisdom from God?

He told me Duh Jerk was furious & going to get the guy who tipped me off & thwarted their plan.

I submitted if true & I sat across the was in the sears parking lot by the picnic tables then why didn't they call it off?

He explained what I already knew about Duh Jerk's plans. He's very hands off. All the Bosses are. They issue commands ahead of time & there's no way to countermand the orders. The incident went on even though I wasn't nearby. He said they hoped I might, by luck, get hit by debris, then they could deal with me accordingly.

When I laughed it off he asked me to recall the nearby Ambulance Crew in proximity to me. "They were watching you".

He then slandered the politicians, implicating them. I wont repeat it.

I told him I didn't buy his story 1 bit.

He insisted that I'd seen known gang members walking by me. That was proof they were spying on me.

I told him I see them from time to time. So what? Bay City's not that big.

"Half a million people there, most of'em from out of town & you saw a few of our guys"? He admonished me for being so stupid. Noting that the odds had to be fantastic.

He added that Duh Jerk & The Stars had walked up behind me, posed for a picture, & moved on. The theory being it'd make for yet another filmed opportunity to prove we are or were great buttbuddies.

I shot back that if true then there's now tons of films, public & private that'd show Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars & their crew form up behind me, pose, & move on. Also that said films would show where they came from, & just as importantly where they went. I had to add this part. They I didn't buy his story 1 bit. I accused the gang of being opportunists who knew I was there & while brainstorming their latest absurdities likely came up with the whole story. Period. Likely hoping to get me to go to cops with a "They tried to kill me story". As if I needed more such stories to accuse them of. Plus films from previous years would show me sitting under the giant power tower supporting the power lines from year to year (occasionally) on it's concrete base watching previous fireworks shows & one could note there as well any suspicious activity. He retorted that surely the gang would make getting such films a priority & bragged on their available facial recognition technology & assured me no quality films of the aforementioned events would survive to be used by myself in court & if they did the gang's corrupt Bay City... cOPS would make certain the films never left the Bay County Law Enforcement Center's Evidence storage Rooms. "We control that place. Our guys work there".

He claimed that the gang had framed me in films & with witnesses for the fireworks disaster. My motivation being a hatred of the visiting politicians that they could also prove (having framed me for that too). He told me if I went to the cops with it the gang would spring their trap on me & be done with me.

Eh, there's more but I bore of the subject. I guess you'll have to read my +1,500 page letter to the FBI where someone gets hurt or killed every few pages to find out more Reader.

Yawn...

"Exactly what part of weird & perverse are you having trouble understanding"? - Me, explaining the gang's weird & perverse nature to... cops who challenged the very notion

View More Evidence

CIRCA 1985... If you fall down don't get back up... at 1st...

Soooooo... there I was, it was after another gang rape and between rape scenes at he Bomb Shelter Garage. Which one? Idano? They have a few I know of & they brag there are many all over the state of Michigan. Where were we when this went down? Nearby I'm told. Allegedly the shelters are leftovers from WWII. Or so I've heard?

While everyone was standing around... by everyone I mean about 7-9 18 year olds. We were set up near the door & there were a few tables for securing prisoners face down in the room. Tables for the coming party lined the walls & they were milling about getting things ready for the coming gang rape party. Sure to be filmed to put mid-Michigan... cops & FBI in a mood to not investigate my bestest buttbuddies (check my definitions page) in all the world.

In a moment of time I became semi-lucid & assessed the situation before me. I'd been kidnapped & drugged. Raped. I figured that for sure this was the end. The gang was surely about to get rid of me. If not for "The Gym" then for what I'd done to their members recently then. Either way I figured I was surely about to die. Maybe worse? Spend life in prison where their child-porn films starring me in snuff fashion would put guards & my fellow prisoners in a mood of sorts once I came under their authority. I figured that since I was going to die anyway, or spend my life framed for 100 death penalties on death row for the next decade or 2 that I may as well die fighting.

I recall at times like that I often thought of God. Even while on the gang's drugs my mind turned to God. Athiest me. Should I pray? The world of an aithiest is a sad one. If you should die you look forward only to oblivion. An end to life. The end. Game over.

I checked my pockets & they'd been emptied. SO I checked for my secreted blade & it was there.

I hatched a plan. Kill everyone between me & freedom. But how?

I'd already tried to leave several times. Each time the crowd present jumped me & as I busted up young bodies there came an army of Jocks to drug & subdue me anew. They always made a point of saying I needed my medicine. Often, once I'd been drugged anew they turned to the camera & asked me if I was alright. They acted like my long lost buttbuddies & on their drugs I acted it in return. On film...

Yeah, allll on film, presumably to be edited later.

Sooooo... there I was... armed with a knife... about to die... or spend my life on death row as the greatest pervert around as revenge for... wait for it... revenge for "The Gym" the gang bragged over & over & over & over & over &... So I decided to just start killing. But who? I picked the biggest guy & just walked calmly up on him & slit his throat from behind! Then I stabbed the nearest 2 guys!

The battle was on in front of the room's only working door & without mercy I did my best to kill everyone in that room. Men & women! I killed the men 1st. I think there were 3 women & they were very arrogant. Noting that I was reluctant to hurt them so they should take advantage of that fact. SO I warned them if they fought me... after I dealt with the guys... they were next.

SO I went around the room & killed the guys. Then the women. I recall at one point. The last 2 guys & I were standing around, sucking in air waiting for our second winds. The girls were exhausted & a bit beat up (but not bad at all) & stood to the side watching.

Me? I wanted to fight them but needed them off their game. Maybe raging? SO when my 2nd wind kicked in I grabbed a gal & just twisted her neck. KKKKKKRRRACK! Once her head was on backwards I dropped her lifeless body. Then I stepped for the other gals. Not too far, lest the door be unguarded. "Are you just going to let me kill the women"?

How'd it go? The plan worked great. The 2 otherwise great fighters tore at me in a rage & quickly tired. Then I killed them. Doing the 2 girls was problematic. I just kept stepping up on the nearest making sure to keep between the door & the nearest to me.

I recall talking to the one gal. You see this was the 2nd room I'd cleared. She was the sole survivor of the last time. Now in charge of my brutal gang-rapes as revenge for what I'd done to her friends. She'd bragged on the subject often.

I asked her to recall how I'd spared her in the end & she'd given her word that she'd be quiet & let me leave. Then lied & yelled out as soon as she could & I was recaptured.

She remembered.

I told her I wouldn't make that mistake again.... and I didn't.

...

Standing around I pondered the situation before me. I'd had guys get back up after I left before. Maybe I should check to see if they are dead?

When I bent over to check the 1st guy I almost lost consciousness & the world rippled hard before me. SO I resolved to leave lest my memory reset while I try checking the corpses or worse, pass out & revisit their tender mercies. So covered in blood I left.

One of the guys had been lying in wait & when I left he snuck up behind me & tried to stab me! We fought over the blade & he yelled out now that we were no longer in a sound-proof room &n an army came to subdue me!

I recall standing there cuffed & held by 2 giant Jocks as Jerk & the 4 Stars surveyed the room. Duh Jerk told his guys who flooded in to call the Ambulance crew in. They arrived in a minute. One guy sat up.

I asked Duh Jerk how the Ambulance crew arrived so quickly & he said he kept 1 around the corner at all times. It made for shuttling his victims like I from place to place easy, especially if cops came & they said things like yeah the guy's on drugs & delirious. We deal with him all the time. Ignore his rant about how we kidnapped him & raped him.

The Ambulance crew looked shocked in my opinion. They went from body to body surveying the carnage. The sitting guy asked for help & they turned him down & told him it was because the others were more wounded. I recall them going from body to body. "I think we can save these 2". He said.

I noted that was the umpteenth time someone had faked being dead &defeated me. Angrily noted...

I recall asking Duh Jerk from time to time. "How many of your guys do I have to bust up or kill before you'll leave me alone"? It seemed like a reasonable question to me.

Duh Jerk gave me the same answer he usually gave me. "I don't care who gets hurt".

IT'S THE CHRISTIAN THING TO DO... But not in his America...

Soooooo... there I was. It was that time I lost my faith.

I was in some school, Bay City Public School probably... surrounded by all these teens about my age supervised by Duh Jerk personally in the presence of giant Jocks in black. The crowd surrounded me, the Jocks guarded the doors, & Duh jerk looked on lovingly, this was the time of his life & he was in his glory!

The crowd of about 30 shoved me & slapped me once each then shoved me to the next & said things like. "You're no Christian"! And. "You're not a Christian". How long? Weeks that summer I turned 13? Like usual the subject wasn't even brought up at home. I dare not because at my place Accusation = Guilt & My Mother loved to call the cops on me. Oh, she said it was "for me", but make no mistake the subsequent interrogations were always violent & against me & my interests. Beit from her or from the local... cOPS.

Yeah, I fought back but my blows were like a little kid's, weakened by the strength-reducing drugs & deprivation.

I lost my faith that Fall. Yeah, I said it. Fall. I would enter school, like usual, under the full effects of a lengthy drugged sleep deprivation torture session. The hidden cameras were everywhere the gang bragged to me.

Time passes...

...

I'm in a house near the Bomb Shelter Garages. They drug me & tie me down & gang rape me, I'm the center of the parties & they shuttle me from place to place where I';m the main event. Entertainment AND blackmail fodder.

So while they torture me I attack. How'd that go? You win some, you lose some...

But I picked off a guy here, a gal there. Some injured, some with what may have been fatal injuries. A few were crippling at least. They just summoned new whenever the numbers got low.

This time... the numbers got low... and I became semi-lucid. So I fought the 6 or so assorted Jocks, guys, & women. This time was different. I won.

There was 1 guy left. Me? I'd already tried that. "You let me go & I'll spare your life" and it never worked once. They teased me at my recapture. "I'm a Devil-worshiper! I cant believe how stupid you were to trust me".

So I looked on the guy I had 100lbs on & pondered the situation before me.

You see I used to be a Christian. But I'd lost my faith at age 13 in that Classroom. If God existed how could he abandon me like this? How could the calamity that is my life even be if there is a God?

I was exploring Christianity again Circa 1988. Hitting the Bible. Pouring over archeological data. Asking questions. Really looking... and praying. I hadn't come to have faith in God but suspected he was there? Maybe? I was an athiest then.

So I pondered life. I'm no hypocrite. If I was about to die for torturing & kidnapping someone like me I'd hope they'd give me a chance to get my heart right with God before they killed me.

SO I told him I was going to kill him & submitted as proof all the dead bodies laying around. But I was going to give him a chance to pray & to get his heart right with God before I did it. The alternative was to die... now.

So he prayed. Was it enough to get into Heaven? I hope so. The drugs I was on have robbed me of that prayer's content. So whatever he prayed was between God & him. I sincerely hope he made it to Heaven. Why? Read on.

He prayed. I told him he could fight but it mattered not. Then, I quickly & humanely killed him & left.

The sent Gang Mouthpiece was ecstatic when he confronted me alone later on a Bay City street in broad daylight (it's their M.O., that's Modus Operendi for you mid-Michigan... cops who read this). He bragged Duh Jerk sent him. Strange only that most sent snitches claim to hate DUH jerk & TELL ME TO GO TO THE COPS. Once I go they'll send in damning films of the gang & advance in rank, get rich, and be done with them for revenge.

"We go you"! He bragged with glee. He said Duh Jerk wanted me to know that they finally had the goods on me because of my recent escape. I'd killed that guy & offered him a chance to pray for his immortal soul. "In Michigan you can kill someone to escape us but you cant offer to let them pray 1st". It's be Prosecutor's dream case. A slam dunk of a conviction. The film that'd let the gang do whatsoever they wanted to me for life & end it with zero fear of legal reprisal.

I retorted the films would show me escaping.

He said not the edited film. That shows me as the biggest scumbag around.

I explained the dead crowd had told me they were all classmates. They'd have to explain the deaths.

Still grinning he said they didn't all die. Plus the gang controlled the Coroners in their city. They'd put some on ice, freeze the bodies, & have funerals 1 or 2 at a time.

I'll say this about it. The gang changed it's tactics after that. It was one of my last escapes. Even my druggings were different after that as I had 1/100thor less amounts of recollecting my kidnappings & the flavor of memories sharply declined in clarity. I hear it also coincided with the time they started using Tasers on me. "Now when you get lippy or uppity everyone around you has a taser & they whip it out & shoot you". Leading to. "You haven't escaped once since we started using tasers". And. "You haven't killed anyone who we didn't want you to since we started using tasers".

This is my life. This is real Americana.

This was brought to you by the fine people at the Bay City Law-Enforcement Center & The Bay City FBI without whom none of my website would be possible. Take a bow guys. This IS YOU.

My defense? My sins are forgiven as a Christian. Belief in the atoning death of Jesus makes that possible & nothing else. But I dread the possibility (I ain't saying it'll happen), the possibility that 1 day I will face all the people who died in Heaven come Judgement Day. I ask YOU Reader? What will I say to them if they should raise their accusing finger & point it at me & say he killed me & I never got the chance to accept Christ & now I'm going to burn in The Lake of Fire for all eternity! Give me the words I wall say to them Reader?

My defense was I am so horrified at all the bodies, all the destroyed lives, all the burning souls many, most or all of whom are burning in Hell in torments right now! RIGHT NOW! I was so horrified, so hated sending souls to Hell that I took a chance I'd be recaptured to give that soul a shot, a chance to avoid Hell. Cant I be mortified too?

For the record I recall giving a few of my kidnappers or torturers such a chance to pray before I did my best to kill them & they went sort'a like the above.

Give me the words I might say on Judgement Day oh wise ones? Please?

Ask any Law Enforcement Professional you

might know this Reader.

"How does a 7th

Grade Dropout know all this stuff"?

BUT YOU SAID... yup, sure did...

Sooo... imagine being in a room surrounded by skeptic & dirty... cops being led by a professional Child-Molester Apologist (or any type of dirty... cop, pick 1)? The apologist shouts. AH HAH! I GOT YOU! Proof you are lying".

Me? I stop mid story. "I didn't lie".

"Yes you did. You just changed your story"! The room gets quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

When you described the situation an hour ago you worded it different. Now the facts are changing. He notes the changes. The room agree, I've been caught.

Me? Without missing a beat I tell them... cops that the gang often uses the same M.O. over & over. Thus, even by logical deduction some of my stories should be identical or merely mostly parallel each other. Many parts being true, such as the sheer number of times the gang locked me drugged & sleep-deprived in a room with 10 guys. They may start the same & have an aquarium element but ultimately divert from each other at some point. The same for the massive number of fights in the Bomb Shelter Garages area where we had giant knock-down dragg'em out fights in front of the soundproof doors & the conversations & acts that led up to them being different or slightly different or identical to other times.

In short they do some of this stuff to me over & over & I haven't been caught changing my story, I'm discussing a similar story which inevitably has different elements.

Not so the self-congratulating... cops tell me. "Nice comeback, it's something a liar would say to cover their tracks". They eject me on the spot.

Worse? I'll admit this. Picture me digging deep into the horror-filled recesses of my mind, shoveling into the sleep-deprived & drug-addled memories. Then... I'm wrong.

Picture an army of... cops gasp here. "GASP"!

"WRONG? CHILD-MOLESTERS ARE WRONG! COPS CAN BE WRONG! BUT NOT ANY RAPE SURVIVBORS! NOT YOU! NEVER YOU! YOU CAN LEAVE THE COPSHOP NOW SIR"!

I'll admit it. A few times... I blew it. I was wrong. Me. Wrong.

Destroying rape survivors who are wrong? It's how the scam works & Dirty & Overly Skeptic... cops love to use it to destroy all comers. It's how their scams work.

"The 1st thing you should know about us is that we're primarilly actors".

- The very 1st thing Duh Jerk taught me when he tried to recruit me in Fall of 1976

"You can quit lying because you're not fooling anybody. I've seen the films".

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

Give me the words I might say on Judgement Day oh wise ones? Please?

THE CHURCH ON THE EDGE OF THE FORBIDDEN ZONE... For a time... they used to call me... The Good Kid there... literally...

I chose purple as the color for the T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z.

It's a regal color. - David A. George

------------------>>>

It occurs to me, David A. George that there are many people in life who will never see 7 men each 7 feet tall or better in one spot in their lifetimes. My claim that they stalked 11-year-old me is quite a brazen claim made all the more brazen by the claim that it was in public & openly done. And that hundreds of people saw it.

- David A. George 11-14-23

Brazen bra·zen [ˈbrāz(ə)n] ADJECTIVE

bold and without shame:

"he went about his illegal business with a brazen assurance" · "a brazen gang enforcer"

Soooo... I have been thinking about this church I used to go to way back when I was a lil kid. You see I learned to talk when I was a baby, & in just few weeks people told me I could talk as well as an adult. It was then that the people around me, claiming to be part of the Satanic religion 1st poured out the gang's full fury violently & relentlessly on me & instructed me to give up my Christian ways & become one of them.

About then, I decided to become a Christian. Very quickly My Cousin forbade the discussion of the Christian religion (except in film ops) with me, lest I learn anything useful about my new religion, & ordered the gang to pound on me & inflict every perversion & torment they wished upon me to change my ways.

How'd that go? Well, I prayed. It was an extremely pain-filled decade to come & I was neither clever enough nor strong enough to have survived without my constant prayers to God "For Strength". Not physical strength, though I did pray for that too, but the mental strength to survive. Perhaps to thrive. A blessing. Well, a cash blessing wasn't in the works. Then or now on 11-14-23.

Lately I've been thinking about the church I named "The Church of the Edge of the Forbidden Zone. Like most stories I should probably start at the beginning. But since I prayed to God for wisdom here, I feel I should start at the end. The very end to date. About 15, 20 years ago.

I started going to T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z. when I was about 6 or 7ish. You see my neighbor, the guy I nicknamed "My Best Friend" lived next to me in my low-income home since I'd arrived there during 1st Grade. He hung out with me for a few years as did many of the area's kids. By age 8 he left allegedly to go live with his real Dad in Florida. His Mother, our neighbor deleted in bragging about the massive lists of his accomplishments in Florida since he'd left in her occasional visits.

Me? My church attendance had never been stellar even at the best of times. As an adult I made it a habit to show up every 10 years or so there to see if I'd recognize anyone there. Sadly since summer of 19777 I never recognized a single person there once.

My last interaction with the church? Sure. They say that the truth shall set me free. right?

I had been charged with a crime about the turn of the millennium in Bay City, it's public record, you could probably look it up. Strange only that the witnesses had said I was innocent as did the alleged victim! Call it... "Bay City Justice". But that's beside the point. The charges were dropped & nothing came of it other than gang confrontations while locked up & a laundry list of mundane... cop threats to my freedom... again...

I looked down at the evidence against me which was non-existent since the alleged victim admitted lying. I wont use names out of respect.

While reading it I looked down at T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z.'s final parting gift to me there on the paper. There it black & white it claimed inwriting that the... cops had asked My Preacher about me. I'll try my best to exactly quote it from memory. "This was just another example of the ongoing violence between the alleged victim & I".

I was outraged. 1, he wasn't My Preacher & that wasn't my church. Period. The only difference between the last time I went there & now was I'd decided to go there a few times in a row, looking for a new church, and just to be sure. just to see the place for myself. who I might recognize? What might become of me if I dared walk in. Considering my history there.

Describe the visit to T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z.? Okay. I could describe them all since summer of 1977 the same way. I went in, didn't see any baptisms, didn't see any alter calls, the service seemed pleasant, no one tried to engage me in conversation, and I left. I mean no insult.

I was outraged at the Preacher's alleged statement. He wasn't "My Preacher". His church was not my church. He didn't know me & he certainly had no evidence of any wrong doing since there was none & I would know. I thought to confront him.

When I calmed as I prayed & pondered the subject it, the source, occurred to me. Would I really confront anyone based on the written testimony of a badge-carrying uniformed Bay City Michigan... cop? Uhhhhhhhhhh... no.

I considered it & the gift of that... cOP to be the final kiss gift of Bay City. The gang confronted me & later & bragged they were involved in every aspect.

My opinion on the subject?

I do not work for the Mid-Michigan Police Sheriff nor FBI nor have I ever worked for them so I don't believe every word that comes out of a child-molester's mouth nor any badge-carrying Bay City Law Enforcement Officer or Agent whatsoever. Nor their "Reliable Informants". Period. But IF you're curious I wrote it all in detail in my +1,5000 page letter to the FBI where someone is hurt or dies every few pages. It should be public record? I mean unless you can confess to killing a whole lot of people in AMerica & it's not filed someplace at all? In Bay CIty it wouldn't surprise me? Maybe they get letters like that all the time about Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars?

Okay now we've almost covered a half century of my attendance at T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z.. If the above is true, I really didn't have very good attendance. Nothing to brag about. One might wonder? Why? The subject is surely not a good testimony towards me-wards. But it is none the less, the truth.

Let me talk about my last attendance at T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z. way back in Fall/Winter of 1976 while "The Gym" was going on hot & heavy. The beginning of the end I've decided to make the beginning of my story.

The Beginning of the End... Fall / Early Winter 1976, America's Bicentennial Year. The Iranian Hostage Crisis was the big news back then as was gasoline shortages & inflation. America was in turmoil & people were worried. Me too. Why was 11-year-old me worried? Because my fellow students & the sum of "The Gang" were trying to kill me inside & outside "The Gym". "The Gym is NOT my nickname for what happened in the 12t Period Cafeteria Class in Bay City's School Shaped Like an "E" for "Evil". It's what the gang of child-pornographers & rapists that I grew up with called it.

... cOPS asked me & said that IF what I said was true, I'd have tons of witnesses. I did. By body weight.

... cOPS told me that IF what I said were true there would be reports by witnesses filtering into the... cOPSHOP in the dungeons of the Bay City Hall (Where the Police worked back in the day). There were. I came there when some arrived unsolicited by me. By now the gang bragged they had uniformed... cops standing outside the jail on their payroll to specifically send away any who would witness for me. My witnesses reported as much telling me they never made it into the building anymore. There were always... cops outside in the City Hall Back Yard (the entry to the... cOPSHOP) to take their reports & send them away.

Them... cOPS told me IF what I said was true then there would be tons of witnesses at school, on the streets, & in my church & THAT was proof enough to ignore me.

I explained that there were in fact tons of such witnesses in every one of those places. Tons if you meant by body weight. Tons of humanity. Many of them allegedly became tons of formerly innocent humanity, or so the gang bragged to me in time. Often.

Soooo... I went to church. T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z. & I was pleased to note the churchgoers didn't have parishioners armed with bats to keep me out at the doors... again. Sigh... again... The front of the church was still black as coal in the dark. No lighting. A lone parking lot light or 2 & the light from the corner of Cass St. & Broadway St. provided the light, barely, as I I walked up. & went in. I concluded I was correct in assuming that if I skipped a church day they might assume I'd been driven away this time never to return.

I entered to stares & hushed whispers. No one would talk to me. I scanned for the bat-wielding members & saw not a one. I looked intensely for the 7 men each 7 feet tall who'd been following me at Duh Jerk's command in church. They'd quit coming about 2 weeks or so ago by then.

Author side note: I asked Duh Jerk if the 7 men 7 feet tall he later boasted he'd sent to stalk me & kill me was symbolic a symbolic gesture, was to make my story even more unbelievable, or had religious meaning? He declined comment. Strange only in that he usually delighted to answer any questions I had & eagerly boasted about my ongoing attempted murder to me whenever he could in private & in public in front of his fellow +120 coconspirators in my then ongoing attempted murder that they all called "The Gym".

I sat through the service & all I can report about it was that it was like I said above. I sat down. They, I should saw we had "church". You know, worshipped The Lord. A few songs. I don't recall the sermon. I wonder if anyone does? Just wondering?

I had hoped a Christian or 2 might talk to me. Might say hi. Might apologize for how they treated me? No one engaged me in chat & the mood seemed quiet & hushed in my opinion.

I hear in the Orient a common slur is to say. "May you live in interesting times".

I was inside T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z., so I left... warily.

Then it got it got interesting...

To be continued...

If you can't stand the waiting, I detailed much of my story of the goings on inside & outside of T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z. in my +1,500 page letter to the fBI where someone gets hurt or killed every few pages. There's a ton of witnesses to many of them goings on too, tons of them thanks to a gang who relish public confrontation against me. By tons I mean by body weight of the victims & the witnesses.

You might be wondering where is T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z.? So I put it's location below. I mean them no ill well now nor did I during the height of "The Gym" when many many of it's members publicly chose to break the law openly & publicly involved themselves in my life in front of a whole lot of witnesses. Enjoy!

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

Alleged place of the final church kiss from T.C.o.t.E.o.t.F.Z...

go figure huh?

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

"JERK WANTED YOU TO KNOW"...

Soooooooo... there I was, minding my own beeswax when a sent gang mouthpiece approached me. About 18, maybe 5' tall. Male. "Jerk sent me". He said. "He wanted you to know that we stole your cat".

Meh, I've heard it before. Big wuppp, totally expected. "So what"? Me? I try not to get attached, for "obvious reasons".

"Did you know how much money that cat was worth"?

For a moment I pondered the runt kitten. It might've grown the 1st week or 2 when I got the mutt of a kitten, but it stopped growing. Dark grey, I was never even really sure who legally owned the cat due to a complex web of how it came into my possession. I never thought much about it. I thought of it as a potential mouser, & occasional playmate. Having spent much time with it with a piece of string or chasing a shiny reflection. I lived on a busy road & the cat would take off for days at a time. I'd figured it'd met it's end in traffic, or maybe had somehow found a loving home? I really hadn't thought much about it, much.

He claimed the kitten was nearly a full-grown cat & barely ounces from the world record in cat weight, worth tens of thousands of dollars & the gang sold it. "Jerk wanted you to know that it's in a good child-molester home doing tricks for our kids". Helping them, the gang, to recruit children with it's impressive array of tricks.

Whatever...

It was soon after that another sent mouthpiece was sent. He too claimed Duh Jerk had sent him. "Jerk wanted you to know that we stole your mirror".

Me? I pondered the mirror I found on my way home sitting in the trash. about knee-high & almost as wide. Whatever wood it was made of was very heavy. Almost an inch thick wood & very dense. The glass that made the mirror was similarly tough. Something solid had ripped off the top of the mirror, about 1" x 4" & sliced it firmly off, the glass didn't even splinter. It was cut at an angle.

I recall pondering how the wound occurred & how the mirror survived it? General sturdiness I supposed. Meh, who cared? The mirror served me, so who cared.

He said they were at my place looking for things to steal. Then they noticed the heavy mirror. He called it a royal antique; I forget the vintage or dynasty or whatever? He said they'd be selling it for over 10 of thousands or so. I didn't know what I had. They just wanted me to know.

"We went through all of your baseball cards & took every single card that was valuable. Jerk wanted you to know".

Them were decades ago. Today I'm sitting in a pizza place, a yellow, a blue, & a brown pencil are in front of me.

Snitchgirl was the 1st to threaten me on behalf of The Children of the Gym. "We'll steal everything you ever loved as revenge for The Gym".

Whatever...

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

STICKS OF GLORY... Real life madman's obsessions...

I think I was about 8 when the 1st one happened. I'm writing about it today 2-25-24. Why? Because it occurred to me lately, nothing more. A story about 2 madmen & their quest for petty revenge on a little boy in America.

The 1st was a man known only to me as "My Cousin".

The situations both happened at my then South-end Bay City Michigan home. The boys (and a few girls too) were playing war, mostly with toy guns. Some of the kids had better guns than others & a few walked around using fingers to point.

Me? I had some sweet guns. Well, had being the operative word. My family saw my assets as theirs & nothing I owned that had any real value lasted long. Nothing. My toy guns included.

Soooooo there I was. I joined in the fun & in my neighborhood you only needed point a finger & say bang to achieve a kill in the game of War.

It seems some new kids had arrived, given out a few guns, & they didn't much respect the kids without guns. I & others armed as I was scored hits & the new kids, some big teens, suggested my kills didn't count because I didn't have a gun. Then they shot at me scoring theoretical kills with their expensive very-realistic toy guns & insisted I & my fellow finger gun-armed players were dead. It killed the mood, but because they had a lot of candy everyone agreed. A few soldiered on shooting finger guns at kids who still respected the old rules.

Me? It irritated me. So I walked into the woods behind the Quality Bag Co. across the street & looked around for a stick I might call a gun. Yes, I prayed to God for the wisdom to find & create a masterpiece. Literally.

I looked, but not for long & found "My Stick". A big old piece of tree deadwood that I snapped off parts of to look like a high-tech gun.

Now armed I returned to the fray with my new high tech ray gun where, in my opinion, I was a top scorer. The new kids were very angry & forbade me to have any of their candy.

Me? I hadn't touched their candy & told them I didn't want any (truth was, I didn't like their attitude, so I refused their goodies earlier).

As the day went on, humiliated at their defeat that for whatever reason they blamed mostly on me the largest stated that from now on, since my gun was just a stick, my shots no longer counted, because it was just a stick". "Stupid". The new kids & many of the neighborhood kids agreed. I was out again. Disarmed.

Me? Many of the kids we played with had complimented me on my gun & a few were even supplied with toy guns I'd just made at their request, because they liked my gun. Respect? I figured a few of the kids would agree my gun had what it takes so I declared. "Lets vote on who has the best-looking neatest gun here". I thought I might get a few votes, especially when you considered the sweet realistic M-16 he had & the other toy rifles of the new kids & pistols they'd given out to select kids. But I won! Even the kid doing the talking voted for me. Then he insisted because my gun was just a stupid stick my shots did not count.

I protested he couldn't vote my gun was the neatest gun there & then call it stupid.

He insisted he could because he just voted that way to fit in.

Weirdism here? Everyone else sided with me. We had fun playing war until my bedtime. Many of the kids asked me for the stick & I refused them, I was sorta proud of it after all. I agreed to make a new one to anyone who was nice & asked. I never did see them new kids again.

When I walked in the house with the gun My Mother (honor honor honor) insisted I couldn't bring the stick inside.

When I asked her where to put my contest-winning toy gun she said she didn't care, but not inside. "It's just a stick". She didn't care.

Me, I walked outside & stood on my porch. I pondered owning the stick. Who'd steal it, the troubles it could bring. Then I decided. "It's just a stick & threw it down beside my house on the northwest corner & figured I might deal with it the next day if we played war again. If not, who cared?

We didn't play War for a while. No reason I know of & not unusual back then at all. We only infrequently played it.

Imagine my surprise when My Cousin talked to me days later when he inquired about where that stick was?

I shamefully recall saying I had no idea? I'd thrown it down & since we didn't play war again I hadn't thought about it. I figured the stick was probably still sitting where I'd left it?

My Cousin proudly told me that now he had the stick. He'd stolen my toy guns & armed a batch of kids & sent them to my neighborhood with Serial Rapist. "Why do you think he had the toy pistol"? The plan was to humiliate & embarrass me. To turn the neighborhood against me by making me seem pathetic & poor. "And then you had to go & screw it up by making the neatest gun there". He complained I wasn't the pathetic poor kid, but the kid with the best gun everyone envied. He'd blown a lot of cash to recruit children for the area's child-molesters on toy guns, drugs, & whores & I'd mucked it up by beating his team. So to get revenge he'd came himself & when he saw my gun he had to have it. SO he told the squad to beat me up & take it but I'd scared them when they'd gotten froggy earlier. They wouldn't fight me. SO he said he'd ordered My Mother to forbid me to take the stick inside at night so he could steal it. Now he had "The Stick" & he wanted me to know. Smiling smugly he ordered me to answer him on how bad he hurt me.

Me? I told him I hadn't even checked for the stick after I'd thrown it down. I told him. "It's just a stick". I'd found it in a few minutes of looking & it meant nothing to me.

His smug smiled dropped. He ranted! He had The Stick! Of course it hurt me! It was the best gun out there 7 now he had it & was going to give it to a good child-molester to use in their games of war. "How does that make you feel" He asked?

"It's just a stick".

WOW! Was he mad. An obsessed madman. Just a weirdism about an obsessed madman, nothing more.

...

Years pass to age 11. The Gym was going hot & heavy. In impromptu game of War had begun & once again I had no toy gun to play.

So I went into the woods & prayed. In a few minutes I found the stick I was looking for & made a high-tech looking ray gun & went to War!

We had a lot of fun, like usual. Then one of the new kids I'd never seen before who'd come with Serial Rapist (rinse lather repeat huh?) said that because I was poor & had a stick for a gun I shouldn't be able to play with them.

Me? Several kids had once again complimented my gun so I suggested. "Lets have a contest. Lets vote on who has the neatest looking gun here"? In so many words. I was surprised when I won again. The new kids protested but I submitted that if mine was the best gun there, my having a home-made gun didn't matter. But they should go out & buy some guns until they found one that could beat mine in looks.

So we went back to war. I recall the loudmouth kid asking me for my gun at the end. I also recall I'd have just given it to him but I didn't like his attitude.

Still, we all talked about playing the next day so I endeavored to keep my gun. My Mother (I'll honor her a few more times here (honor honor honor) forbade me to bring the stick inside. SO I threw it out into the darkness. The way I threw it & the gun's fragility meant I figured it'd be broken. But I also figured who cared? It was just a stick & if we played War I'd check on it.

I recall looking where I'd thrown it the next day & saw it was gone.

At school in the School Shaped Like an "E FOR EVIL" a child my age I'd never seen before or again approached me & said he was there on behalf of Duh Jerk. Me? Being I was in the midst of an ongoing attempted murder led by Duh Jerk & organized in part by the School System & protected by The Bay City... cops & agents I was wary & wouldn't let him near, lest another sucker-punch attempt (one of many) be landed. Hands up he asked me to consider the War over the weekend.

He claimed it was Duh Jerk who'd asked Serial Rapist what games I liked to play so he could get attackers near me. He'd suggested War. One of the stated goals was to tease me about having no gun. to turn the hearts & minds of the other kids against me in a well-planned & choreographed PRACTICAL joke skit the gang inflicted on little boys (different versions of girls I've been told). It all went according to plan until I showed up with the neatest gun there. They'd tried wrecking it, breaking it. But with a prayer & a few well-placed snaps I'd snapped the gun into an even nicer looking gun than before!

So Duh Jerk put a bounty on the gun of $50. Considering minimum wage was $1.25 that was big money back then. That's why they broke the gun. Duh Jerk wouldn't pay because I'd fixed it & made An even better gun. He teased me the kids had tried to buy the gun but I'd turned them down. "You could've had $50".

Me? I told them the kids had offered to buy the gun but said no price. SO I turned it down.

"Now Jerk has the stick & wants you to know. Now that stick is going to a good child-molester for him to use playing War".

Me? I pondered it. "It's just a stick".

Later Duh Jerk confronted me during The Gym. He had the stick & wanted me to know. "How does that make you feel"? Knowing he had it. Knowing he was trying to kill me even now AND he had "The Stick"!

I inventoried my mind for what the stick meant to me. "It's just a stick".

Well reader, there ya go. 2 Weirdisms about madmen & their quests to own... "The Stick". 2 stories about obsessed madmen & their quest for... The Stick".

My opinion? To God be the glory. In each case they were HIS sticks, HE just let me play with them.

Is the above real Americana? Just a tale of an average kid in America Circa the 70's?

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

No. The sticks didn't look like this.

Obsessed madmen each proudly, yes proudly aquired "the stick" here.

Every now & then the madman I knew only as "My Cousin" might boast that he was friends with Bay City's own Johnathan List & was instrumental in his avoiding authorities, working hand in hand with the local Satanic Church & the local state & Federal authorities to keep the man half of the country was looking for free in America.

Go figure huh?

JOHN LIST : The Man Who Erased His Family. (youtube.com)

One of these days... bang! Zoom! I'm going to hurt you... badly...

Sooooo there I was Circa 1973ish at my 1269 home. As I recall it, it was my combined minor neighbors of my 1269 Harrison home & Trio of siblings & myself standing in my driveway.

My neighbor whom I've nicknamed "My Best Freind" was bragging on himself... again. He'd been training in martial arts for weeks... again to facilitate beating me up. So he picked a fight over our property line again, his personal fav.

Me? I tried to talk him out of it. Noting I'd beat him up about 20 times at least, not badly (obviously) & felt he should just give up.

He bragged on his "Dad" in the nearby low-income house had trained him specifically to beat me. Working him out, training him with the best of the best in martial arts & this was the time he'd redeem himself. Not only was he going to win this time, but beat me up very badly, crippling or killing me. Then he added it was perfectly safe to try. Why? Because I had a habit of sparing everyone I could. If I won against him today, he'd just try again after a few more months of martial arts & boxing & working out. He was going to win & I was going to be crippled FOR his Dad.

Me? I saw the flaw in my plan. I informed him he wasn't just going to endlessly attack me until he won. No. Today if he attacked me I was going to, out of necessity, "put a lasting wound on him". Literally hurt him so badly that he was never going to be able to attack me again. Ever.

I told him if he attacked this was our final fight. I would cripple him. You know what Reader? 8-year-old me meant it.

Ge chickened out & moved away in a few days, even gave me a 12-stringed guitar when he left saying he was going to live with his real dad in Florida. There was no emotional goodbyes.

Imagine my surprise when the madman I knew only as "My Cousin" bragged on the subject later.

He asked me to notice that the kid went to no school while his siblings did. It was because he was an imported fighter from afar there to beat me up, cripple me, & do it for the camera. He boasted all of our fights, almost all over property lines were filmed & scripted. Enabling edits to make me out to be many narratives. He mocked me fiercely when he added my desire to spare opponents made it easy to have the same fighters attack me over & over in safety in public. If they lost they needed only beg forgiveness & my religion required me to spare them. The fact that they attacked me without mercy & would've committed atrocities on my person being irrelevant to the story, based on their films & the lies them films empowered the gang to tell & I'd fallen for it endlessly for years now. Providing them with a vast library of films, drugged & undrugged where the gang could sell any story they wanted to investigators. He wanted me to know. Mocking me about the last one when I said that kid I'd hurt him badly. He said he was thinking of crippling his loyal fighter if only because he could frame me so easily with his library of films. So I'd better start obeying him.

I often pointed out to the madman that, in my humble opinion, I knew the people around him & obeyed him better than any of them & I knew he knew that. Pointing out that while he often lied to get me punished, he never got me punished justly once & never once for disobedience either. At the crowded "Grande Party" I told him things like. "I know everybody here & I know for a fact that you've punished every single one of them at least once for disobedience. I'm your best guy".

Shocked by the revelation & stunned at the subject of my ongoing obedience & flustered he said. "You're not my best guy".

That wiped the smug look off his face.

When Obsessed Madmen say. "We will break you".... lots of people died... publicly...

Disclaimer: This is written on 11-12-24 & I protest having to write it but feel led to do so. Frankly, I have better things to do that what I call "Ruining my life" which is the act of writing this website.

Soooooo... there I was, Duh Jerk.... the smiling madman slapped me awake & said something like. "I love doing that".

I took stock of the situation, I was lying in a bed in a room with a single small table, a lamp, & a single door & window. the 4 Stars & Dirty Cop himself in his Bay City Police uniform with a pistol were there along with several Jocks a lone ark-haired middle-aged man, thin but serious-looking. The room was dimly lit from above & from the single lamp on the small table I'd later nickname 'Earth's Sturdiest Lamp'.

I was alarmed by the situation before me at the lest so I tried to rise & fell back dizzy. It was the drugs I was recovering from.

Duh Jerk, The 4 Stars, & the mile-aged man laughed at my weakness. Then they mocked me. Claiming that I was now in a brothel in Detroit Michigan, having been put there as a favor to my new owned, the serious man who mocked that they specialized in breaking men, thinning them down, & forcing them to serve the brothel's many patrons as sex slaves. My position, after I was "broken" would be particularly humiliating. A $5 whore offering services to only the most lowly & diseased & insane of the brothel's most perverse clients where I'd serve until I too was a pathetic disease-ridden wretch whereupon I would be disposed of as a lowly 2-bit whore that the many films the gang had of me would leave... cops asking no questions. Game over & the Bay City Chapter of the gang would have it's revenge on me for "The Gym". While they mocked the 4 Stars mocked they' return when I was "broken" by these professional destroyers of men at the all-male homosexual brothel that they'd each be by to make sex films with me to prove that... wait for it... wait... wait.... to prove that "The Gym" never happened, being we were life-long sex buttbuddies, my friends, lovers, & employers as the case may be.

They all hurled random insults at me.

I launched a few insults right back; the only difference was my insults were all true about them and based on their lifestyle.

They left & the mile-aged man said he was sending in a few whores to teach me the ropes. What my new sexual duties would be for the brothel. He threatened that I' better listen to their instruction because a long torture session awaited me if I refused. They were leaving now to give me time to consider the situation before me. He cautioned me in torture I would not die, as some of their slave did, but would be tortured until I broke & served in the brothel as a personal favor to Duh Jerk. Then they left & I drifted off into a dreamless drug-induced sleep.

2 men, thin, in their 20's maybe 30s came in & woke me. They began to discuss my duties (written in more detail in the +1,500-page letter to the fBI where someone dies or is hurt every few pages.

I interrupted the men and asked them if they were slaves? Did they want to escape?

They said yes to both questions. They'd love to escape. Then they informed me there were guards all over the place with machine guns.

Me? Then atheist me? What'd I do? I prayed. What happened next?

I stood up, still drugged but able to walk. I recalled reading military manuals about survival in a P.O.W. Camp & it's advice was to try to escape as soon as possible as it's likely that you'll never be as physically fit to escape again as when you arrive there.

I looked for a weapon. I found Earth's Sturdiest Lamp". Made of a solid hardwood of some sort with a hole drilled up the center that held the lamp's cord. A little larger & wider than a bowling pin I figured it'd make an excellent weapon.

What happened next? A lot of people were hurt & some may have died (I didn't conduct any autopsies & wouldn't be qualified to do them if I tried). I wrote about it in detail in my +1,500-page letter to the fBI where someone gets hurt or killed every few pages.

Soooo... the real question is.... can someone do all the above to another person in America? My answer is yes, yes they can. But only if you have the law enforcement agencies called: The Bay City Police, Bay City Sheriffs, The Bay City Michigan State Police, AND the Bay City Chapter of the FBI in your pocket & at your back. Then, & only then the answer is, yes you can. You even get to use words like "Warehouse Style" (see Definitions) when you do it & laugh when your targets protest. It's a tale about Obsessed Madmen & their lifelong quest for the act of a perfect revenge for fun & profit. In their words to impress their friends & others in their gang & their "business". That being blackmail extortion, human trafficking & sexual slavery. In short to impress their peers & to frighten their enemies with a "this could be you tale".

Whatever....

Obsession ob·ses·sion [əbˈseSHən] NOUN

the state of being obsessed with someone or something:

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
- an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind:
  
  "he was in the grip of an obsession he was powerless to resist" or "the gang members & dirty cops of 'The Gym' were obsessed with the child they failed to kill in Fall of 1976, so they stalked him for life as revenge'

Describe the... cops in my life with a single word? Okay. Here goes:

Clueless clue·less [ˈklo͞oləs] adjective clueless (adjective)

having no knowledge, understanding, or ability:

"you're clueless about how to deal with the world" or "the... cops were completely clueless about how the gang easily manipulated them with lies & films"

Contact

I'm always looking for new and exciting opportunities. Let's connect.

info@mysite.com

123-456-7890

This is not a manifesto. It is a written plea for help.

RAPED and STALKED Pray for me. Please?

Hello. Welcome to a webpage all about the obsessed madmen who stalk me.

THE CHURCH ON THE EDGE OF THE FORBIDDEN ZONE... For a time... they used to call me... The Good Kid there... literally...

Contact

Seeking help

®

"The 1st thing that you should know about us is that we're primarily actors". - Duh Jerk while trying to recruit me in his taxpayer funded school during business hours in Fall 1976

Send me mail
Sjolnr1@gmail.com
Ignore my other website addresses. I no longer have access to any of them for years as of 2-22-22