This is not a manifesto. It is a written plea for help.
"When you show up in court all crippled in a wheelchair who's going to believe that you lived through the gym"? - A bragging Child-Molester speaking about my eventual demise at the hands of the Child-Molesters, a Saginaw Gang in court only a few years prior to the writing of this website
"All we have to do is haul you into court in Bay City & call your plea for help a manifesto & no one will read it".
This is not a manifesto. It is a written plea for help.
RAPED and STALKED Pray for me. Please?
There's a reason this s the 1st part of my message. The gang brag my dirty cop destroyer WILL begin their letter/report declaring my site is NOT a plea for help but a madman's manifesto everyone can ignore. https://sjolnr.wixsite.com/rapedandstalked
KEEP TRYING!
My website is under constant attack & editing by the gang & rarely works on the first few tries. Don't give up & keep trying to make it work! Please?
Copy my website, share it with your local Police, call a Police Officer or 2, who knows? Maybe one of the wonded, dead or dying was someone in YOUR area? Tell a Federal Agent about my site, tell your family, tell your friends, tell everyone. Please? It's not for me, it's for the children the gang victimized, it's for the children the gang brag they are victimizing now, and it's for the children the gang brag my story will enable them to victimize in the future. It's all about business.
My website is all about opposing their business, their child-molesting & rape business for revenge, blackmail, self-gratification, & profit.
WEIRDISMS...
A weirdism is a true story that does not further the author's overall message.
THE WEIRDEST WEIRDISM EVER... LITERALLY!!!
Soooooo there I was, Circa the summer of 1972 or so. I was about 9 years old, that would make it Circa The Summer of 1974, & had just finished a rage session with gang banger regulars at My Mother's Parent's Place where they held their grande parties 3-5 days a week during the late spring, summer, & fall spread out between the house & the back yards of the houses on either side & in their spacious & partially forested back yards. A grande time was to be had by all at the parties that had 10-20 Regular attendees & about as many guests who I usually never saw again. Most guests lasted only a single day, the rest almost never lasted more than a week. The weekly attenders made up a small percentage of the overall guests as a rule with extremely few who would attend again after their week was up.
Why were the gang bangers between 18 & age 7 or so angry, or as I put it enraged? Well according to them & My Cousin later it was because they'd been tasked with bullying me in a filmed PRACTICAL joke, one of many & I'd refused to engage them in conversation. Oh, I talked to them, or more accurately at them & told them all I was done with them. I wasn't going to give them the silent treatment, I was giving them the send off treatment. "Go away". And they didn't like it one bit. Especially when in an uncharacteristic manner I stood up against them. It was easy actually. Once they described some of the films they'd seen of me I just defended myself against their initial attacks & double dog dared the children & adults to attack me. I forget my exact words at this time but I'd like to think it was a sentence I used to great effect against many a gang banger in the past. "I know you know that I can kill large groups of people".
Sooooo... My Cousin showed up & all but demanded I conform to my usual ways & provide him with a new summer film so he could use it in his blackmail & frame job business.
Me? I refused & told him off... respectfully (WOW! Did that part tick him off). Totally not like me up & until then. In a rage he ordered My Mother summoned (who coincidentaly was elsewhere at that time) at once & he'd oversee an epic punishment on me.
Alas, he was informed that My Mother had dropped us off at the pre-party with just a few attendees, the cheapest drunks as a rule & their kids who risked serious punishment if they even dared to speak to me let alone play with me or near me. The party heads, My Cousin & his Lt.s might announce that I was The Good Kid, a Christian & he didn't want his devil-worshiping kids at the party having anything to do with me. Which was just fine with me by the way. It meant that overall I didn't have to deal with their drama directly or put up with them except during their frequent assaults on me where they lied & made up false accusations to provoke gauntlets on me.
RECAP: The team, tasked with framing me as a wimp, enraged at their certain group punishment for backing down from a little boy. My Cousin, enraged, he ordered My Mother sent for in his rage as he too backed down from his one on one challenges to fight me in single combat (far from his actual words, I'm paraphrasing).
The entire house, the party was upset. Everyone walked around in a rage or scared at their coming punishment. They tried to reason with me but I'd had enough as of late & decided to just blow them off & take whatever punishment came.
As I sat there, the recent bragging conversations I had with My Cousin & the threatening conversations I had with Police (when I, on my own, tried to file a Police Complaint unsolicited & unsummoned for any reason whatsoever by them, totally on my own initiative). My Cousin bragged his films of me killing would enable him to destroy me with impunity, maybe even make him & his gang seem like the victims or even the heroes. The Police never ceased to threaten me with all sorts of imprisonment & some of them told me they'd seen the films & I wasn't fooling anyone. They knew what kind of scumbag I was & felt good knowing I was getting exactly what should be coming to a 7 years old kid in America. Being that I was a true slime bag card-carrying member of the gang & my denials in the face of the gang's many films wasn't fooling them one bit!
I pondered My Mother's coming. Her rage over a missing penny as of late, the... cops coming to the house & calling me a murderer in her presence, even the many false accusations against me that brought me her righteous gauntlets often. I thought on "the films", the testimony of a gang who could easily (in their opinion) prove I was their best buttbuddy. I realized I needed a plan. But what?
I prayed to God for wisdom, strength, guidance, & revenge. Here's what happened.
I pictured the accusation & finger pointing I'd likely face in any honest court room & figured I'd probably need to plead the 5th to survive in the jungle warfare zone the gang & America calls our courts. Then it occurred to me that if I plead the 5th how do I get my testimony into court? I figured that without my testimony I was doomed as Police tried to fit the puzzle pieces of my life together & I knew I wouldn't look good at all with the puzzle pieces available to the gang to use against me in front of... cops & the courts. So how do I do both? How do I get my story to the Police AND avoid the horror show that is testifying about my time addled by drugs & lengthy deprivation sessions ( a situation that is NOT easy for me, though every... cop I ever met told me that they felt that they could take the torture, drugs, & deprivation & come out of it 100% ethical & sound great when testifying about it too)?
It came to me that if I didn't completely reject talking to the gang, particularly their snitches (for lack of a better term), officers & troops, & My Cousin & engaged them in conversation in a way that was interrogative (like I knew the Police & Courts would like) then I could write me story in an interrogative way where needed & placate My Mother & My Cousin both this day.
Recap: So I decided to engage the gang''s "sent snitches" in conversation & answered their questions as informative as I could & then tended (where it occurred to me) to ask questions & lead the conversation down avenues I thought Police & Prosecutors would like better explained. Filling in the gaps of my story here & there where possible).
Well, I prayed, then this was the best plan I could come up with. Sure, I figured there were lots better plans but they didn't occur to me & I had a saying I made up as a kid. "A bad plan is better than no plan".
To God be the glory! I never could've survived this long alive & free in America without him.
Thank you God!
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Addendum to The weirdest weirdism... ever!!! :
My Cousin announced my punishment was to be so damaging that he felt it best that he leave, lest a... cop he didn't own accidentally show up & start arresting the people doing damage to me.
I figured My Mother would arrive soon (if only because My Cousin's Lt. said he'd called her & she was on the way) in her fiercest rage (and I was right, sigh...) just after I formulated the new plan. So I hatched another. I walked over & played with the gang bangers tasked with getting their mundane films of me.
I was sitting at the living room table playing with some building blocks with the gang bangers when My Mother burst in and announced my coming epic punishment for ruining her day! She was furious I'd refused to engage the children wanted an explanation why I'd refused to talk to the children around me & My Cousin?
Me? I played innocent. I pointed out I was playing with the children she said I wouldn't engage. As for what My Cousin said? Those were the accusation of some dude who'd left who'd completely exaggerated the situation. It had been coincidence that earlier both her & I had overheard the gang say that the guy was new to the gang & that he'd just been promoted to his lowly officer rank & I pointed out that surely the noobie had screwed up the message. What other logical explanation could there be?
Her rage fizzled out like a wick dipped in water & I went unpunished for the time being.
From the testimony of the gang bangers I talked to in passing in the coming days My Cousin had chosen to leave town for a while due to the ferocity of the attack he ordered be dealt to me (just like I'd overheard him tell a few of his officers). Several gang members told me they were scared to admit I wasn't busted up by them based on they were afraid to fight me. So they all stuck to a lie & said I was badly beaten up which placated My Cousin who'd announced he wasn't coming back to town any time soon.
It's only trivia to add the gang bangers told me the entire party (bigger than usual by the way) had sworn to repeat the lie & they'd even voted to do great harm to anyone of their own who spilled the beans. They even tried to get me to agree to repeat their lie, if only because it was in my bet interests.
Me? I told them even if it meant great harm to me if My Cousin asked The Good Kid doesn't lie. I'd tell the truth if My Cousin asked. They were not amused.
So the summer went on. Me? What could I do? Aged 7 & already with huge armies of gang members &... cops around me threatening me often with injury, death, & imprisonment. It wasn't glamorous one bit. I decided to stick to my new plan until a better plan occurred to me & went back to trying to just be a kid for a while. It was a hot summer, I was a Christian, I was surrounded by devil-worshipers & their either card-carrying partners in crime... cops or their stable of coward, idiot, easily gulled, & skeptic... cops (I suspect a lot of overlap there).
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FOLLOW UP... Epilogue...
Months later My Cousin approached me in a rage at My Mother's Parent's place. Strange only in that usually when he confronted me he ordered the house emptied but this time he hadn't, though I don't recall who may have been in a position to overhear the conversation. During these times the people attending the grande parties who dared walk past us did so quickly as a rule & acted like we didn't exist, lest they should make eye contact with either My Cousin or myself. The only other strange thing was there were lots more people than usual. Lots! Weirder still was I recognised many of them as having attended the grande parties over the last few months. The house & all 3 yards (My Mother's Parent's place & the 2 adjacent homes) were brimming with people. The largest crowd ever.
In his fury, trying hard to keep his tone to a non-yelling fury My Cousin explained that he'd just found out that I'd gone unpunished in what I'm now calling the weirdest weirdism ever.
He was furious at me and felt I deserved an extra punishment if only because I was the Good Kid & I should've ratted myself & everyone else out. He trusted me, & felt I'd violated his trust.
Me? I told him I wasn't stupid. I wasn't going to volunteer information to get myself punished by him. Then I pointed out that the people at the party had asked me to lie for them & I'd refused & said I'd tell even My Cousin the truth IF he asked me.
"He said. "I know. They told me". Then he told me how he'd found out. One of the party goers fell into trouble with the gang he said & while trying to save his own skin he volunteered the information about the plot to lie about disobeying his orders to break my body en mass.
He said he was handing out punishments all over the place at My Mother's Parent's place & that I could expect an epic punishment for joining in the conspiracy against him. I couldn't get him to say what specific punishments but he did use the word "torture"
Me? I pointed out to him that I hadn't joined in the conspiracy at all & had told them I'd tell the truth if asked. Thus I didn't deserve punishment in my opinion.
My Cousin didn't seem amused, likely all the more enraged as I countered his every accusation with the logical & provable fact that I'd obeyed all that was required of me of him 100% & I knew he knew it.
In a complete fury he walked away from me.
At the party the gauntlet enthusiasts wandered in a horror. Some wore terrified expressions & I noted that several party goers had set up guards, watches, people who watched for My Cousin to come & used handsignals & loud talk to warn of his coming. When I asked they said My Cousin was handing down horrible punishments on everyone who had been at the grande party that day. The problem was he had a bad memory, & so did many of the guests & people who were not there that day were getting punishments assigned to them the moment My Cousin saw them. Others had been there & were hoping that if they could avoid today's punishment assignments that they could escape the wrath to come.
I asked them why they didn't just sneak out of the party?
They told me that there were guards posted to catch anyone trying to leave & that no one could leave except me (to fetch cigarettes & refreshments from local party stores as needed for the locked in partiers).
Then I asked them why not just hide in a box or under a bush or something?
They told me they would but if they got caught hiding it'd turn an epic punishment into an even worse one & they dared not hide in some box. Besides, My Cousin had children searching the boxes & attic & root cellar & the woods out back & the garages even now.
Me? I saw My Cousin walking around the much larger than average attendance party. He'd see someone & take them to the kitchen where he & his Officers talked to them. Many of the attendees that passed by me while I sat at the front door looked as white as sheets when they left the party (which could only be done via the front door of the house for security reasons).
My Cousin told me he was unsatisfied. It seems that many of the people he assigned punishments to ratted out others & he was fairly sure that they weren't there. A command had come from on high that he conclude handing out punishments today. Anyone who escaped his wrath today would get away & from his recent interrogation he knew the entire party knew that. So he knew some of the deserving were avoiding him somehow?
At one point My Cousin asked me to help him compile a list of who had been at the party on that fateful day I'd gone unpunished.
I pointed out it was months ago and that committing who was there that day wasn't really a priority, seeing as they typically had nothing to do with me on purpose.
He called me a liar. "Genius's never forget". That I should be punished if wrong by even a single person.
I countered that My Mother wasn't in the room then, so he knew that my memory wasn't as perfect as he acted during my punishments with her involved. I told him he knew that everyone there was ordered not to talk with me or have anything to do with me. Memorizing who had been there on that day months ago hadn't been a priority for me.
He sighed & agreed with me.
My Cousin explained he'd sent out some of his troops to retrieve people & bring them to him & figured that they didn't try hard enough & reported that they couldn't find the people.
So My Cousin told me he hatched a plan. He knew I obeyed his every command to the best of my ability. Thus, I was the one person he knew he could trust to fetch anyone & everyone he wanted who was hiding. & bring them to him at his seat in the Kitchen. Running as I went about doing it even because he'd commanded me to.
Me? I sighed within myself because I was The Good Kid. My Parents had ordered me to obey his every command & if ordered to I would do exactly that and to the best of my ability. Still, I wanted out of the assignment so I pointed out it's greatest flaw. I didn't know almost anyone's names. The gang went to great lengths that I wouldn't talk to anyone at the parties & I knew extremely few of his guy's names.
He said that was okay. He'd describe them & send me out after them. If I grabbed the wrong person no harm, no foul.
I suggested he just line up everyone at the party & pick & choose the guilty.
He considered it for a time & then said no. He didn't want to arm anyone there with a story of being lined up for punishment & just in case a cop was somehow near with a camera he didn't want to give then a great photo opportunity by lining up people at a party. When I suggested he line them up elsewhere he noted that if he let people leave then several people might escape the party & thus go unpunished.
I pointed out the next flaw. None of those people would be inclined to obey me.
My Cousin said that if I told them he'd summoned them, he knew they dared not fail to answer the summons. Then he described the gang members he wanted summoned & sent me running off to catch them & bring them to him.
I brought in a bunch of his hiding gang members much to their dismay. My running around the party made it difficult for them to escape me even when their lookouts tried to signal them to flee to the next safe spot.
My Cousin mocked me for my obedience. He even pointed out that because I was the one summoning his guiltiest & most scared members that they would no doubt hold huge grudges against me. Win/Win.
My Cousin laughed at me with his officers pointing out that when I had failed to find the 1st few people (after having retrieved many) that he planned on sending out a few of his guys with cash to bribe me to see if I was taking payoffs to let some people escape like he'd just found out a few of his guys had done. But that the spirit of the party & the punishments thereof were so horrible that everyone was ratting everyone else out & a few were confessing their every sin to try & lessen the coming punishment session. They admitted that I'd turned down payoffs or had seen me turning down some serious cash. All the more funny because he knew how poor he kept me. The entire filled to the brim kitchen laughed at me with him heartily. So he knew he could trust me all the more.
None of what happened that day made me happy. The misfortunes of my enemies or literally those who may be out to get me has never been a source of enjoyment & even the memory of it is not something I look back on fondly to this day.
Later grande party goers asked me why I helped My Cousin so,?Even turning down their cash bribes in exchange for saying that I hadn't seen them.
I explained to them that I didn't want to hunt them down to dole out punishments, but I was The Good Kid & I had to obey My Cousin's every order because My Parent's had ordered it & my religion required that children obey their parents. I did what I did without malice & had no joy in it. Even when you considered what each of them had done to me in the past which they pointed out logically could be my only motivation for turning down their money.
That was no consolation against a few of them who promised me revenge for what they were about to go through.
What was my epic punishment, if any? Idano? Any epic punishment must've just blurred into the normal background of how cruel they were to me as a rule? I cant point to any single event & say this was my punishment for that fateful day or that chain of events was my punishment. In short what I'm saying is that no single act (or acts) of cruelty stands out as the promised punishment because in general they were just so mean to me that nothing stands out. Strange huh?
Me? My opinion of it all? When I considered the gang, it's perks, and it's punishments I figured that the only thing worse than being the gang's enemy was being one of them!
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Duh Jerk asked me, while I was doped up. "If you went to war against America how would you do it"?
A weirdism is a true story that does not further the author's overall message.
"IT'S HOW I KILL CHILDREN".
- "My Cousin Circa 1979
"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
TRIVIA: The above map isn't even close to the quality of the giant colorful map on the wall that summer day.
They used a 6' stepladder to reach the top & the tall man stood atop it & had difficulty reaching the USA portion of the map. He even fell after cutting out that portion of the map to the cement floor & seriously injured himself.
Injuries begin piling up. - Baby DaVE Summer of 1965
IT'LL NEVER HAPPEN... I SWEAR...
Sooooo... since I'm probably doomed no matter what, having written my websites begging for help for about 7 years now (as of 2-23-19) I thought I'd start with a weird one, call it an Xmas gift to some dirty prosecutor or Doity Cop. It IS almost Christmas when I wrote this.
Sooo we'll start with a girl I dated I'll call Tall Girl. Tall Girl... yeah, we partied, & saw each other on & off. She seemed okay. About 6'3". I never minded the height difference, in fact I thought it was kinda sexy. Long story short... she came to me before love-making, at her cousin's place (or so she said) with these awful black lace gloves on. I'm pretty sure most guys find them sexy but not me. Add in they were scratchy & stiff & I didn't care for them.
Duh Jerk sent a guy to brag she was "his gal" an insert who's mission was to dope my food with saltpeter & film us not making love.
I complained all any film showed was her being horrible in bed & having turned me off with them black gloves. But I eventually redeemed myself in a few hours & it was "Mission Accomplished" in the love making. Duh Jerk's guy said they'd edit that part out. It'd prove... well he had theories it'd prove a lot. Especially when added to their many rape films where I refused to preform. Now made mandatory with drugs.
Ahhhh... the weird stuff that comes from the minds of madmen huh?
Sooo... I'm dating a girl. Wasn't it the gal I later nicknamed "Child-Molester"? Child Molester asks me, what kind of sexy attire would I like to see her in? She go out & get the... whatever I said.
Me? I thought back to a comedy I saw where 2 girls & a guy lived together over their landlord & the sexy attire of one of the girls. Miss Wood (her character name) wore a saucy football jersey.
Later Duh Jerk sent a guy saying she'd asked the question at his insistence & Jerk was horribly disappointed at my answer & ordered her to never buy such a thing, being it had to be the lamest fantasy he could imagine. His disgust bordered on anger & he considered punishing me based on a lame fantasy, or so said his mouthpiece.
Switch to TMOMC (a nickname). She asked me what sexy attire I'd like to see her in? She'd get anything I wanted.
Me? I thought back to a comedy I saw where 2 girls & a guy lived together over their landlord & the sexy attire of one of the girls. Miss Wood (her character name) wore a saucy football jersey. It's only trivia to note I'm not really a football fan & never really was above watching an occasional game here or there.
TMOMC refused & came the next day with the most horrible turquoise single piece teddy/bathing suit with white lace gloves that mirrored the black ones Tall Girl wore. I chalked it up to bad taste & coincidence.
Later a mouthpiece showed up & claimed to have come from Duh Jerk & had lots to say. I'll only cover a smidgen here. He said it's typical for a gang seductress to ask victims if they like any sexy attire & quiz them about any kinks they may have. All the better to frame them & dress whores in costumes they'll find desirable to more easily manipulate them (you hear that? A mid-Michigan... cop just fainted somewhere). He said Duh Jerk & the gang were enraged, furious at my choice of sexy attire for a woman & had sworn an oath that I would never date a girl wearing a jersey like the fictional Miss Wood. EVER! He was really clear about that.
Add a few years... My New Wife asks me what kind of sexy attire I might like to see her in. Anything I wanted?
Me? I thought back to a comedy I saw where 2 girls & a guy lived together over their landlord & the sexy attire of one of the girls. Miss Wood (her character name) wore a saucy football jersey.
My New Wife refused. Saying pick again. I tried talking her into a flannel nighty (another fantasy attire, yeah, yeah, lame I know, but I always liked the idea of quick & easy access AND a warm comfortable woman combined [a super pervy concept I'm told]). My New Wife rejected them, refusing to attire herself so our entire relation. I thought nothing of it & we never discussed the subject again.
Imagine my surprise when Duh Jerk sent another guy, bragging the same thing. Telling me Duh Jerk had sworn an oath I would never have a woman so attired as the fictional Miss Wood at night. The 3rd time was really my fault, I should've seen it coming.
Me? I said I'd thought nothing of it. It seemed like My New Wife was very disappointed I hadn't chosen some dangerous teddy or exotic lingerie of some sort & seemed aghast at my unremarkable choices.
A weirdism I wrote on a cold Christmas Eve Eve one day... nothing more. In my waking non-drugged memory I never did get a woman so attired for night time fun. Why didn't I pursue the subject? Frankly it was never something important enough to me to merit even bringing up again. So little thought did I put into the subject over my life. In the end I told the girls bra & panties or just come to bed nude was the best gift they could give me & they complied.
Welllllllllllll... there you go... a weirdism for a cold boring Xmas Eve Eve. Not as glamorous as one might think huh?
Yawn...
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Disclaimer: I typed out the below stories on a writing program & copy & pasted it to Wix. The process was not seamless & it lost all paragraph indentations. You know what? I really don't feel like going down the line & making this page pretty at the time I wrote & posted this 9-8-20 in a Dover De Cafe. So I wont. If this offends you or gives you a reason to dismiss me then so be it. Frankly, I'm not in the mood right now.
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GREAT MOMENTS IN CHILD-MOLESTING HISTORY... Yeah, right...
As a child I was jumped by bullies now & again in seemingly random acts of violence. Quite regularly actually. Many times I just chalked it up to “that's what life is”. Often My Cousin, a random gang banger, & later Duh Jerk would come up to me & claim they'd sent them. Some walked up on me from the front. Most confronted me in public places (always on film I'm told), & some walked briskly up on me from behind & attacked.
Wellllllllll, lots of surprise attacks later I decided to come up with a plan to reduce the assaults or at the very least reduce their effectiveness (yeah yeah yeah, no little kid does that, just ask ANY mid-Michigan... cop). I figured there wasn't much I could do about the guys who just walked up & attacked. & the guys who came running out of the bushes could only be countered by trying to be alert. One might think that simply not going to the places you were attacked would be a good plan but the gang brag their attacks are designed to isolate their victims so you wont go anyplace they don't want you to go. But it occurred to me that the guys who walked up on me briskly from behind might be countered by simply just walking faster. Thus if they want to briskly come up & attack they had to run up on me improving the odds I'd detect them. So I decided to just start walking faster.
How'd that work out? It helped.
I was at my Bomber Buddy's place chillin when a 1-time guest who was chillin also on a boring otherwise mundane day spoke up. “You got so lucky”.
Really? I inquired as to what he meant?
He said he was “in the gang”. He'd been hanging out with a group of toughs partying & looking for mischief when I walked by. He said they knew all about me & chatted among themselves about reward that could come from beating me up in an apparent random act of violence. Being most of them were of different races than I they could expect no punishment based on accusation that I was a racist (Plan A: for all molesters I assure you) so after a quick chat between them they allegedly took off running after me.
“But you walk kinda fast”. He said they were all heavy smokers (very common back in the day when cigarettes were cheap & the gang gave them freely to all members & soon to be victim/members as a perk) so after a block or 2 of full tilt running after me they were winded & had to stop. “But you didn't notice us”. So they recovered their breaths & jogged at me again. Same problem as before, they soon winded. “So we hid behind a building & had a few of our guys yell taunts at you & call you names to lure you to us but you didn't seem to hear us”.
A later unsolicited “snitch” told me Duh Jerk had sent the guy to brag after it became gang knowledge they'd tried the above & failed & it became gang knowledge. He said them very guys, a broadly racially & ethnically diverse crowd were waiting to beat me to death if the card-carrying child-molester could provoke me into attacking him at my Bomber Buddy's.
Picture a racially diverse gang of racists gasping in the street armed with racist slurs as their only defense bent over & gasping for air as a group. Then picture me chillin in a living room while a pair of gang bangers taunt me with the above story on a hidden camera they'd brought with them. Their cigarette packs prominently tucked in pockets & shirt sleeves. 2 great moment in child-molester history.
ALMOST... Almost...
Soooooooo... there I was, My Mother (Honor, honor honor) had signed me up for children's class at the local YMCA. We had 6 hours or so of daily activities. Art, singing (not my favorite part), games, sports (mostly volleyball & kickball), & an hour of pool time. I went 2 summers as a child & thought nothing much of it. Yeah, assorted bullies showed up regularly. They typically came once or twice & unerringly picked me out of the crowd. Most were content to push me around or just insult me for hours. Other provoked me endlessly. It was kind of like being in school. The staff were there to protect the bullies & there was a never-ending series of opportunities for violence created for hours at a time whenever the bullies showed up. Typical wherever I went back then (and even now when I discuss my situation with... cops).
So our tale begins with me during a free swimming period. I'd recently learned to swim but lacked the confidence to do so without a diving face mask on. We were at an indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool in the heat of a summer day.
The crowd was a typical one, if a little on the large size. A team of Paramedics was on hand teaching some adult students first aid (a class of some sort, they'd said as much) & the total number of adults probably numbered a dozen or less. The children of the class (about a dozen or so) swam & the larger than normal group of adults waited for our class to end s they could swim.
A whistle blew & the staff member announce our time was over. “Adult swim”.
Me? I thought the only thing that was weird was I was now alone in the pool for no reason I could fathom. Unusual, but I thought nothing of it. So I decided to swim to the edge & leave traveling underwater. As I neared the edge a man jumped in to the pool with both heels & smashed me about the face & back. He tore my mask off & knocked the wind out of me. My lungs filled with water & I swam to the top.
When I climbed out covered in blood I noted the Paramedics refused to help me. The man, whom I'd talked with before at the pool got napkins & I cleaned up the blood. He apologized & I figured it was just a random accident. Nothing more.
Soooooo.... “My Cousin” walked up to me & chuckled about the situation. He'd sent the man who was my porn star rapist to kill me. The plan was if he could knock me out then his child-molester class he sponsored would stand off while I drowned and died right there.
Me? I told him I didn't buy it (hey... now I sound like a mid-Michigan... cop, go figure huh?).
He told me to consider the paramedics were there to kill me if I were knocked out (just in case other medical personnel showed up). Now the films of the child-rapist porn star giving me napkins & helping tend my wounds would legitimize his films of me, protecting them & making my story all the more unbelievable.
Me? I told him I still didn't buy it. Too convenient.
He said. “Oh yeah”. Then he asked me to ponder why the Paramedics refused to help me. In fact no one would help me nor acknowledge what happened & it was because he'd ordered it & set it all up.
He claimed the class itself was set up by him. The theory is to be able to film interactions with me & to familiarize my ape teams with me & to provide for familiar faces that'd make controlling me on their drugs easier. Plus the fact that it was held in the YWCA & not the YMCA would go far to proving I was a homosexual, legitimizing their films all the more. Win/win/win/win.
Now the class' usefulness had come to an end. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself too much”. So he'd decided to put an end to it. “You'll go there 1 more time & they'll cancel the class as proof of my power”.
Though they'd only recently promised us months of more summer fun I went there 1 more time & they canceled the class. It was a big announcement & the staff of the YWCA talked much on the subject with the class & myself.
It's only trivia to note My Mother took us nearby in a few weeks so I ducked out & walked into the YWCA to satisfy my curiosity. The class was going strong. So I asked the staff why they'd lied?
The staff said they'd decided to kick me out for no reason when I pressed the subject. They quickly turned into mouth-breathing ranters & could give no reason for booting out “The Good Kid” other than "you must have been bad" or you must have misbehaved". When I pointed out the entire staff was in the room & we could ask them, that each of them was forced to agree I'd been nothing but the very model of a good citizen then entire time I was there without exception, then they went into a rant. Exposed. I asked the children there about "inappropriate touching" & sexual rape (statutory rape) & right there in front of the assembled staff of the program the children admitted it's happened & that's when the staff turned into rabid insult-slinging... "we're going to call the... cops on YOU" kinda mouth-breathing haters.
Child-molesting isn't just about sex to the gang. It's about control though cruelty & innuendo. 2 concepts that wholly amaze mid-Michigan... cops & leaving them scratching their heads & pointing fingers at a victim. Surely if violence was directed at someone they deserved it. Right? It's okay because I'm not addressing mid-Michigan... cops or else I'd write using smaller words. I'm addressing Police professionals elsewhere who can learn form such tales by analyzing & adapting & not closing their minds in ignorance. It is these professionals I both admire & respect & am reaching out to.
Great moments in child-molesting history.
Child molesters so as child-molesters do.
JUST ANOTHER WEIRDISM... nothing more...
One day My Cousin was chatting with me & asked me to notice that only girls sat next to me for the most part in class.
Yeah, I noticed. So what?
He said he arranged it that way. He didn't want me having any male presence in my life life carousing with boys. He asked me to notice every now & again that boys sat next to me in class. Usually the slackers in need of better grades sitting next to the kid they called “Mr Scientist” sometimes. He arranged it strictly for film purposes &they wouldn't be sitting next to me for long.
I usually said things like. “So what”?
Advance time...
Sooooo there I was a member of class 6-5 of Macgregor Public School in the Fall of 1976. The ongoing attempted murder was going hot & heavy in “The Gym”. Snitchgirl was talking to me in the darkened hallway. She said the gang's inability to kill me in “The Gym” was making them look bad. Lots of people knew about my ongoing attempted murder. An unacceptably high number of people actually. So the gang decided to just simply kill me... today. Outright & let the chips fall where they may. Safe because their dirty... cop would be 1st on the scene & thus become lead officer.
The plan was The Red-Horned Teacher (who was up to he eyeballs in the situation by now) was going to reorganize our class seating for no reason & put me in the class center. Then when she left the room at a precise time on the clock (she told it to me but the exact number escapes me at the time of this writing) the class would spring as one & attack & kill me IF I didn't die in “The Gym” 1st.
Sooooooo... I survived my ongoing attempted murder in “The Gym” & went to homeroom. When we arrived the Red Horned Teacher announced our class seating was to be changed. She called out our names one by one. I was surrounded by “The Deathpact Dozen” & everyone who hated me the most & sat directly in the center of the room. Clearly, they bided their time & ground their teeth in anticipation of combat.
Me? I was under strict orders to obey the staff without exception until I was attacked & without exception under great threats of violence from my parents & uniformed on duty Bay City Police.
Let me repeat the above for clarity's sake. I was under strict orders to obey the staff without exception until I was attacked & without exception under great threats of violence from my parents & uniformed on duty Bay City Police.
So I obeyed.
About 2 minutes before the appointed time The Red-Horned Teacher excused herself soon enough.
We all sat there silently for several minutes. I was the center of attention though not a word was spoken.
We all watched the clock tick...
Tick tick tick...
They waited on pins & needles in anticipation of combat. & we all looked at the clock.
The appointed time came & the class sprung to life as one against me & attacked!
Me? I noticed that the battle-hardened boys of The Gym had let a small amount of the usually non-combatant girls of my class for a wall on the side so I made a charge by smashing through their weak point in the lines, the spot dominated by the girls & ran to the front of the calls to see the massive Jocks blocking the only door. So I leaped through the window & saved my life.
Later the gang would insult me based on my charging through the girls.
Me? I said they attacked & thus became fair game. I didn't feel 1 bit sorry for them. That and the fact that they always insulted my every act as of late & this represented just their latest insult.
My opinion? Man, I have jumped through way too many windows in life. Way way way too many & it's not a good thing to do.
Another great moment in child-molester history.
“It is the accusations of our victims reflected back at them that is our true power”. They wait for a victim to accuse them them make up lies based on the accusations that are entirely based on what they think easily manipulated... cops want to hear & it works. I've seen it. This is Plan A: for them. Their go to plan. This is what they do.
Whatever...
​
​
TAX TIME...
Soooooooo... there I was in the Navy in 1984 reading to go pay my taxes. It wasn't so bad, I had a few weeks until tax time. No big deal right?
TO ME IT SEEMED LIKE i WOKE UP THE NEXT DAY, & tax time was weeks behind me. How this came to be I could ONLY blame myself. Right?
Me? I figured I'd just file late next year & take the penalties. It sucks but you snooze you lose.
Sooooo... this mouthpiece for the gang walks up to brag, The Last Snitch boasted on the subject decades later. They controlled my NCOs in my Navy Division. It made it easy to kidnap me & take me away to make films for a month by saying things like. "Seamen George isn't at role-call, he's working below decks on a project". And all sorts of diversions to keep people from looking for me.
The gang sent a mouthpiece to say if I filed my taxes they'd torture me extensively.
Me? I filed my taxes.
Them? They tortured me extensively in a lengthy sleep-deprivation session that drove me to the brink of madness & delirium... again. They warned me I'd better never file taxes again. Or else.
So I went to the police. They refused to help.
So I went to the IRS. They refused to help noting my taxes were in order. They sent me packing.
Soooooo.... next year came. I filed my taxes again.
Them? Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars? They tortured me extensively in a lengthy sleep-deprivation session that drove me to the brink of madness & delirium... again. They warned me I'd better never file taxes again. Or else.
Me? I complained. They lie so much & so often who can tell what is truth & what is a lie.
Duh Jerk returned with they weren't lying about this.
Soooooo... I figured the gang were up to something sinister. So I waited 2 years & went to the IRS. They told me my taxes were in order & ejected me from the building.
Who or what has been doing my taxes Idano?
All I know is this. To enter the IRS is to let the gang know I've been at the IRS.
The gang brag they "own" agents at the IRS. By keeping a special note of sorts on my file they instantly know the moment my name comes up & my every attempt to interact with the IRS.
I wish I could get the IRS to give me the time of day... without resorting to false accusations & ejections as their corrupt agent's I've dealt with have done without fail.
Sigh...
​
"I BELIEVE YOU BUT WE CANT AFFORD TO LET YOU GO".
I was in disbelief at what the... cops said (several over the years). "What do you mean by afford? Is there some debt? Is the social cost too high"?
"We cant afford to let you go because it might hurt our other cases. If we let you go then every other pervert out there will use your story as a defense"
"You mean my fellow victims"?
The... cops explained to me they felt bad for my fellow victims of the... gang and myself. But it's an unspoken gentleman's agreement among... cops that victims such as my fellow victims & I have to go down legally in flames at the gang's command. But there's a good side to the news. They all get to have wonderful lives & all for the bargain basement cost of my fellow victims & I "taking one for the team". It's a price the... cops of America are willing to pay.
Me? It's not a price I'm willing to pay. And for the record I do NOT want to "take one for the team", sacrificing my life so those gutless coward... cops & their dirty... cop counterparts can go soft on crime.
​
PBS... It was, "Special"...
Soooooooooooo... there I was, at My Mother's Parent's place. "My Cousin" demanded I speak with him in their living room.
So I listened to him. He asked me if I'd noticed all the hype in the media as of late? Specifically about a PBS special show that was very controversial at that time. You see reader, back in Circa 1972 documentaries about serial-killers weren't on TV every other day. In fact back in the day they were unheard of. Controversial. It just wasn't done.
Well as the story goes he said. "I ordered your Mother to make you watch it". He asked me if I had & then tested me on the content, Just to be sure.
"I'm tired of you killing people indiscriminately". He whined. He complained my body count as of late was making his frequent cover-ups of the dead more of a chore than he liked. He said things like. "I wanted you to know killing was wrong". He hoped the morality would explain it to be via the documentary, & maybe I'd start killing less people?
Me? I countered with the fact we'd had many discussions on how murder is wrong & that if there was any problem it was all on him.
He brought up situation after situation. "You killed him". "You killed them". "He was only trying to scare you". "That guy wasn't really going to kill you." & such.
I recall my rebuttal went something like. "You mean I killed him after he tortured me for weeks by slapping me & keeping me awake"? "You mean I killed them after they tortured me for weeks by slapping me & keeping me awake & making awful skits where it seemed like I was about to die over & over for weeks"? "Well he succeeded in scaring me. What did he think I was going to do"? "Well that guy fooled me".
At no point in the conversation was "My Cousin" happy. For the record neither was I.
​
I STAND ALONE... Very alone... Alternate Title: Only in America...
I'm listening to the song "I Stand Alone" by Godsmack as I write this. Here's a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbJTDNELRSk Listen to it very loud for the best effect.
Sooooooo... there I was, gasping for air covered in blood when I was about 20 years old. As best as I could tell I'd been cast into a room by a team of rather large Jocks at the command of Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars. The room looked like a standard classroom & my captors' bragged we were inside a Bay City Public School during the summer months. "No one can hear you scream". No one. There were bodies of 18 year old men littering the floor all around me. None of them were my equals in weight nor fitness in my opinion. Just a bunch of average looking recent high school graduates who could've come from Anytown USA. They looked as average & as wholesome as any group of young men could & were dressed in average casual attire. Nothing special, no one dressed rich. Some died by being slowly & repeatedly by being cut to ribbons by me. A few others died when I yanked on their necks over & over with all of my professional laborer's might. The rest? As I looked around the room I figured a few of the others were lying unconscious or faking it, There were 10 young men (Duh Jerk had told me there'd be ten & I counted them) who Duh Jerk bragged were engaged in an initiation for the gang. Kill me & they would get... uhhhhh... he wouldn't say. It's irrelevant anyway, I personally don't believe a single word a child-molester has to say anyway. It's not a trust issue, it's "experience" from a life of "growing up child-molester" issue. I know their community well, from experience.
So I stood there, over the bodies & pondered the situation before me. Escape was my only goal. But how to escape? Hmmmmmmmm.
In the past, many times gang bangers played dead & when I walked away they jumped up & yelled for troops. The ever present army of Jock backups, the next shift if you will would run in & subdue me.
I've also tried to negotiate with the fallen before. I'd spare their lives if they agreed to not yell for guards or try to oppose me. They unfailingly agreed to not oppose me in exchange for their lives only to have most immediately summon guards the second they could. Many of those stood over me while I lay subdued by their army of Jocks & smiled at me & mocked me for my stupidity.
Sooooooo... I pondered. What do I do now? I was an atheist. Prayer for me wasn't an option though I prayed often for the strength to escape. I pondered what the gang would do to me for this atrocity committed upon their army? They'd been threatening to kill me, I figured that surely this would send them over the edge. No one was going to help me. The church, my schools, protective services, the police, even the forces of N.A.T.O.'s law enforcers had refused to help me. I was as alone as you could get. So how does one escape from this death trap? Hmmmmmmmm.
So I hatched a plan standing there with my makeshift blade. It was distasteful, but I couldn't think of a better plan.
In the past the gang bragged they liked to set up fights & filmed them all. I noted within myself the possibility & just because when I looked around & saw no cameras didn't mean that there weren't several looking at us right now.
So I bent over & slit the throat of the 1st young man by cutting into the jugular vein while trying my best to make sure I bodily obscured spots I thought a camera might be, using the desks as cover. I'd decided to use the desks as cover on the 1st few slit throats so that if the gang were watching I could kill the maximum amount of wounded & any people faking death. Then I went to the next young man. I cut his throat just like the 1st. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Next song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PpTSMsnpGMI I'm assigning this song as the theme song of the young men who died with a lifetime of awesome potential ahead of them, until they met Duh Jerk, the 4 Stars, & my humble self. What kind of men were they? Does anyone still mourn them or are they completely forgotten? Was America made a worse or a better place by their passing?
I think it was after the 4 slit throat that the gang's Jock army poured in & subdued me. It didn't take them long with the deprived condition I'd begun the recent fight in.
One never does get used to them preparing the needle & injecting who knows what into you? Though I know part of their story against me is that I'm indeed a truster of modern chemistry & so eager to have my next fix that I do not care from what source it comes from, literally just trusting every Tom Dick & Harry to inject me with whatsoever they have. It's unnerving, especially when a roomful of young men & Jocks are fighting around you. Some actively fighting & screaming that their goal was my death for what I'd done to their friends. Others fighting a desperate toe to toe battle holding their own army back on... on my behalf at Duh Jerk's command.
It gets fuzzy, the memory degenerates with gaps here & there getting increasingly longer (I guess, based on movement of the crowd being noticeably more & more between the memory gaps).
These are the guys who'll be able to prove we're great buttbuddies in court? A bazillion times of "going to the... cops" meaning NOTHING in a court of law? Not in America. These are my attempted murderers, my kidnapping serial-raping recreational serial-killing stalkers who'll be able to sell America the lie that we were once partners, friends, & lovers? My buttbuddies?
Dirty Cop was there & fought as always, his unquestioned obedience to Duh Jerk was probably his most useful asset.
Last song: Play this song softly: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pw6_VXPwm6U
My eyelids grew heavier & eventually I could no longer lift them & they shut for the last time.
Fade to black...
​
MORE MISTY WATERCOLORED MEMORIES... Typical Americana Circa 1972...
Soooooooo... there I was. The man who was known to me only as "My Cousin" demanded my presence in the living room of my Mother's Parent's house. A que for everyone to leave the air conditioned building & filter outside into the unmerciful heat.
I stood alone before him.
My Cousin bragged about my punishment for the people I'd killed recently. "We too you out to a few states out west & tricked you into killing a bunch of people. You killed lots of people".
When I told him I didn't buy it he told me. "Don't you remember"? Then he challenged me to search my memory then & there.
So I did.
A typical meet & greet occurred as we drove around. A large 70's type car with as many people as could be comfortably packed inside drove around with me in the center back seat. The occupants were all young men. A few slightly older than me, a couple of teens, young adults, & a middle aged man who drove. We saw a car on the side of the road & pulled up behind it. The occupants suggested I could fix the car's mechanical malfunction to the lone man in his 20s. They handed me a knife & told me to kill him.
Though I was drugged I pondered the situation before me & I balked at it.. Killing was wrong.
They told me it was only a dream & if I didn't they'd beat me up... again.
Tired of the beatings I agreed.
The partners in crime drove away.
Me? Since it was a dream I figured I'd just kill this guy, then go kill someone else & steal their car like I so often did in my dreams & go do... whatever?
So I asked the man to bend over the engine & show me what was the problem? Bent over & with his arms stretched over the engine it made it easy to cut his throat. He died quickly.
Me? I set out on my mission to get transportation. The memory begins to get more choppy with longer & longer gaps as time passes.
A cop car & an ambulance pulled up. The... cop said he thought I might need help, being that I was covered in blood.
I refused.
He & the ambulance workers insisted.
The 1st car pulled up & the men disgorged. They claimed both to be my friends & that I was the most incorrigible child around.
I recall now pointing out that they weren't my friends, not a one of us could name anyone else present. Plus, friends wouldn't insult a friend to the police as they just had.
"You can ignore him. He's on drugs".
"Only because you drugged me".
Last thing I recall was agreeing to submit to their authority.
Fade to black.
I recalled other situations. All of them sinister & many with improvised weapons & almost all during the day where they drove around & told me to kill people complete with our own Police & Ambulance escorts. A small team of uniformed Police escorted us & provided us with protection & an easy out of any & all legal entanglements. Even some where it seemed like there was a large public turnout to.
"This time we're giving you a gun".
"This time we're not giving you any weapons. You'll have to think of some way to kill them".
So I did.. Improvised this, Improvised that. Every scenario beginning anew with me waking up surrounded by my handlers in that car. Sometimes the handlers changed. Particularly when I made sure the knife was sharp before I started my escape attempts.
I recall a few times when I armed myself with knives found at the scene of the crimes & made a beeline for for handlers & their car. Boy were they surprised when I seemed to placidly walk up to them & discussed my displeasure with them without words!
Back in the now & with glee My Cousin talked about my "punishment".
So my punishment for killing people while I was on tortured & on drugs was to put me on drugs & get me to kill a bunch of people"?
"On film". He bragged while grinning ear to ear. Then he threatened me. It seems the only real problem was the several handlers I'd stabbed. Some were cut up very badly, scarred for life. They were the type of people who hold grudges & would make excellent life long enemies against me.
"Why are you doing this to me"? I asked him.
"Because I hate you".
​
As the Author of this website I submit this question to Police everywhere & anywhere. IS this just everyday Americana? Is this just an average tale of how life is supposed to be in America? Am I whining a mountain out of a molehill? I only ask because I have nothing else to compare it to?
​
Describe it a little better? Sure... as if one more true description of events would sway a single Police Officer anywhere to help me...
For weeks, months during the summer of Circa 1972 they beat me. We were in some house, who knows where? Men, boys, & teens surrounded me. Then they beat me up. Bruised & bloodied & having begun the fight surrounded I was an easy victim who scored zero damage in retaliation though I never failed to keep trying.
Then I woke up... & they repeated. Beginning surrounded they beat me down. Unlike most of my other beatings that were more carnival-like these beatings were more to the point. They woke me up & beat me down making sure everyone involved pounded on me to their heart's content. Slackers or the reluctant were made to get in a few blows under threats of violence. This happened several times more.
Me? I couldn't understand how I'd healed up between fights? It was like I fought, got beat down. Then when the next fight began I was largely unbruised. I say largely because I recall a fight where my attackers were all reluctant to attack me based on how badly beaten I was at the fight's start.
A few asked their leaders what I'd done to deserve so bad a beating & wasn't my wounds punishment enough?
Apparently not. Ow... They claimed to not know what I'd done to deserve a beating. But it must've been pretty bad if I was as beat up as I was & the Bosses still demanded I be beaten more? It's Bay City... cOP Logic 101. Oops, did I say cOP Logic? My bad. I meant Child-Molestor Logic 101. Same thing, different wording.
Sooooooo... I came to uninjured but for the mental damage a whole bunch of beatdowns can cause. Oops, lemme translate that into "cOPSPEAK". "Lies lies lies, he's lying, liar liar. We... cops saw the films, you're not fooling us, lie lies lie. We trust them [child-molesters], they're fairly honorable (I heard that last sentence tons of times)". Whatever...
Okay, enough of that.
They tried to be my friends. But, whenever I became semi-lucid I tried to fight my way to freedom. It's strange when you're confronted thusly. The mostly jeans & t-shirt (lots of jean jackets for some reason) tried to act like my friends but once I recalled them beating me down I tried to leave & fought my way out. Usually, I lost & they beat me down & re-drugged me anew. A few times I won. Several marked Police Cars & uniformed Police would pull up during the fights & demand an explanation. They then ordered me to submit to the always present uniformed Paramedics who always pulled up a minute after the... cops who'd pulled up in a minute. It gets fuzzy.
Fade to black.
Eventually we started driving around in the large 1970s car. Not a caddy, but a big one that fit 4 in the back & myself comfortably & as many in the front. We talked on & on like friends. They drove the country lanes, way out in the sticks. Then we stopped at a simple country home & they ordered me to kill people. "Since you're dreaming go in that house & kill everyone".
Me? I refused, mostly. "Killing people is wrong".
Then we fought. Surrounded & with cars filled with reinforcements that'd soon pull up because they stopped they beat me down & drugged me anew.
Later they tried. "Go in that house & kill everyone or we'll beat you up again".
Me? Not even lucid & willing to avoid another beatdown I agreed. With a sigh I went inside determined to kill anyone & everyone in that house in exchange for not being beaten up... again. They gave me a knife.
So I went inside & started stabbing the occupants.
They beat me up & mocked me for fighting with a dull blade. Of course it was a setup.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Me? I amended my plan. Despite what most people imagine a dull knife can still be deadly. I began to inflict injuries. Serious injuries on my captors when I became semi-lucid & recalled the ongoing "skits" I was forced to endure.
Paramedics were there to treat the wounded. Their "Leader" laughed when I tried to dissuade them from messing with me based on the number of injured. He told me in so many words he could care less who got hurt.
His partners in crime expressed a similar opinion. This was how they had fun. This was the time of their lives. A few told me that when the opportunity came, they'd be sure to avenge the injuries I'd inflicted on their friends.
The Leader ejected those participants on the spot. Remarking that if he wanted me dead he'd do it himself & not let one of his lackeys do it.
I recall that they set up their defenses anticipating a frontal assault by me. A few times in a row they just beat me up when I walked inside or crawled in a front window when I tried to be sneakier.
Other times I became semi-lucid & just ran for it. The clear farm-like terrain made it easy to find me. In the time it took to find me my memory had reset & I don't recall resisting the uniformed... cops in their marked cars once when I chose to flee. During a quiet moment I amended my plan. Escape seemed impossible. Now my plan was to inflict an unacceptable number of casualties on the team.
This time, in broad daylight, always in the broad daylight on that sunny day, I decided to sneak in the back. How? By running around the house a few times & acting like I had trouble with the window. I recall taking a bat from a Jock & beating him nearly to death in the back (or so I was told). Then I snuck inside, retrieved a few knives from the kitchen, & set out to kill everyone in that house which was populated by men, teens, boys, & the usual little girl whores who provided their entertainment. Stab! Stab! Stab! Slice! Slice! Slice!
WOW! Was the Leader mad! Strangely, he was mad at them AND me. It seems he felt they were sloppy in using walkie talkies. They'd gotten too complacent & let me sneak in the back. A lot of good people were injured & they were to blame.
We started using pistols armed with blanks. Unfortunately for me it made it easy to subdue me as I shot at people in my drugged stupor, giving them warning to my presence & they subdued me.
Sooooo... we started going around here & there. "Kill him [them, whoever amused them] or we'll beat you up again". Sometimes they handed me a knife.
Other times they handed me a pistol. Stab stab stab. Bang bang bang. Get me back in the car by simply asking me to get back in or by... cop, or by subduing me.
Later "My Cousin" bragged about it. He asked me if I noticed how they'd beat me down over & over in the beginning & how I was uninjured in subsequent rounds?
Yeah, I'd noticed.
He bragged they beat me down & then waited a few weeks for my bruises to heal. While my bruises healed they took me here & there, drugged stupid, dressed me in a leather body suit & every pervert for a whole bunch of counties had their way with me. He claimed some asked about my many bruises & injuries & they explained it away. Not that many perverts cared (likely contrary to what mid-Michigan... cops will say about the average caring & decency of child-molesting perverts, literally).
He said they used a lot of dull blades, fake actor's knives that collapse on a hit & spurt blood to simulate a hit. I hadn't killed anyone they didn't want dead. He said the guy whom I'd beat down with the bat would never look the same again & in so many words told me that if a gang member's face is scarred, they are soon to die by the gang's hands. So I'd basically killed him.
Smiling & laughing he teased me I'd killed a whole lot of people driving around the mid-west with the gang. On film. Now no one would ever believe me because all he had to do was show them the films he had.
I noted he already had lots of films so why bother to make more?
He said he liked to keep his library current. Children grow & looks can change, especially when you consider routine facial poundings. By keeping current films of myself & his many other young victims he made sure he had a library of films that insured none of his victims could oppose him in court. Ever.
It's only trivia to add that he said he wasn't in charge of the team. It'd been a friend of his who was inspired to commit revenge on me based on the gang's many films of me that he'd seen. It was a great chance to torture a real scumbag & an I suspect an even more fantastic opportunity for him to film it to further the Bay City Michigan's ongoing blackmail campaign against fellow child-molestors who were themselves targets of the Bay City Chapter of the gang. Win/win.
Picture me standing there alone with My Cousin in my Mother's Parent's house. He walks off leaving me standing there.
What do you do in a situation like that?
I recall picturing the scene if I went to the... cops. Their questions would be. "Who did this to you? Where did this happen? Why did they do this to you"? I pictured the... cop's reaction to my answers which would've largely been "I don't know".
Whatever...
​
The above to be spell-checked later?
​
wOULDN'T yOU lIKE tO bE, mY nEIGHBOR??? Written in reverse caps for "symbolic reasons"...
Sooooooooo there I was, it was a big day. It was the 1st warm day as of late in 1971 & My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) asked me if I wanted to go with her to see our new rental while she took care of things that need to be taken care of when 1st moving into a home?
Me? I was thrilled at he prospect of a new home & at having a spot 5 siblings, a brother & 3 sisters would live in separate bedrooms so I volunteered to help.
So we drove on down there with My Mother's Brother. The home was a modest 1-story brick building at 1269 Harrison Street in Bay City's South End. It was on the border of the woods & the city & had a humble-sized yard & a lone tree in the back yard. As soon as we arrived the pair announced that I would not be helping them & was free to do anything I wanted for the rest of the day as long as I didn't stray too far away.
I recall sitting on the cement porch in the early morning, the air was filled with ozone & I was mentally in a haze taking in my new environment. I recall my excitement turning to boredom very quickly while I sat there. It was just after dawn & I hoped that there would be tons of new kids to make friends with but suspected that few would be awake on a Saturday just after sunrise.
Across the street were 2 companies. One was a... dog food company(?) & the other made trash bags & had a huge parking lot in the front yard. I recall wondering if they plowed their lot & made a big pile of snow come this winter just how grand of a snow fort could I build there? Hmmmmmm...
So I wandered the yard. I looked at the yard behind ours & it was a well-kept large yard with a garden, bushes, & trees & all sorts of recreational chairs & stuff. The lone tree in our yard was tall & had all it's lower branches cut off & would be hard to climb. I remember assessing it that 1st day. I figured it had recently been struck by lightning because of the fresh burn marks on what was once a large low-hanging branch. It made me feel safer if only because I figured what were the odds lightning would hit here again? Our yard had been pre-disaster.
It was while touring the back yard that I saw the unsettling surreal scene. The blond little girl who I didn't know lived two houses over & 3 doors down in the last brick house. They had a swing set in their spacious back yard & she was wearing the cutest brand new little girl mini skirt & swinging almost hypnotically back & forth.
The next part is a little blurry, but we started chatting & chatting lead to playing. Other kids who lived around there came outside & soon we were all playing.
It's only trivia to add that I asked the children about the lightning struck tree? Noting that the fresh smoke burns made it look like it'd happened recently.
It was the middle kid from the next-door brick house 2 doors down who told me that'd it'd just happened a few nights ago. There'd been a huge explosion that'd wakened the entire neighborhood. They all figured it was lightning & went back to sleep.
We played for hours until later in the day, at the height of fun, My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) announced it was time to go.
I was impressed when a lifetime later when I was over twice as old as I was then the My Cousin brought up the day to me & described it in great detail. He smiled while he told me he'd scripted the whole thing. We showed up unannounced to the house so I couldn't prepare anything fun to do so it wouldn't mess with what he'd planned.
He asked me if I recalled being in a daze?
Yes I had, I'd chalked it up to being in a new environment.
He retorted that he'd drugged me heavily with drugs to put me into a euphoric state & enough "uppers" that it'd be impossible to go to sleep. He claimed I seemed like I wanted to sleep anyway so he began his plan earlier than he'd liked to have & sent over the Little Blond Girl who's family he owned. Actually he claimed to own the families of all the people at that corner. It was a child-molester enclave of sorts. A place where he could safely drive his perverts by & they could pick which child they'd molest while on drugs for a large fee. Then he'd send some Jocks over in a van to grab them in front of the customer, drug the child who'd never know they were raped (& thus need not be paid) & since he owned the parents he knew he could expect no... cops would be involved.
He asked me if I recalled everything on that 1st day with clarity with a huge grin?
Me? I was required to truthfully answer the madman by my family's decree of face epic punishment. So I inventoried my memory & then answered him truthfully. It had gotten a little blurry after I'd been there a while.
He bragged that was when he'd ordered me drugged. Then the adults of the neighborhood had sex with me, on film, to cement the ongoing obligatory blackmail that was going against them & to introduce them to me. It'd also facilitate giving them a reason to hate me & so they'd be very willing to testify against me when the day came if only to save their own skins.
He even asked me if I noticed the lightning stuck tree in the backyard?
I told him I had.
He bragged he'd blown the tree's huge branch up himself using explosives. His plan was to later frame me for using explosives & the tree would go far towards proving I was an explosives-using social deviant. If only because there was an explosives damaged tree in my backyard that would back up the rest of the frame job scheme he'd later inflict on me as a matter of business. He claimed the plan to frame me & dispatch me months later had been thwarted by me when I'd out-argued & out clued-him in front of a few... cops he didn't own. "Don't you remember"?
I told him I'd thought it was a dream (and hadn't told anyone, like normal, as if anyone around me would want to listen anyway).
He said I had been on their drugs. He actually gave "a tip of the hat to me", I'd shimmied & talked my way out of a masterwork frame job meant to do away with me in a way the... cops would never take what I had to say seriously ever again AND while on his drugs. He said it was very hard to do.
"Once you started to act like the drugs were wearing off that's when I ordered your Mother to take you away from there because you looked like you were having too much fun". In the past me having "too much fun" was always an affront to the man I knew only as "My Cousin" & he often took great pains to make sure them times ended ass swiftly as he could make them end (see how I used the word "pains").
A note to... cops who might read this: I make it a policy to never believe a single word a child-molester says. My website represents a compiling of all the clues told truthfully by myself & what child-molesters say might only be true in that I say it is true that they said this or that on the given day. Nothing more. It is not my job to sort through the clues, facts, half truths, lies, & innuendo and it never was.
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"BUT I'M LOYAL"!!! Their last words...
Sooooooooo... there I was, inside Bay City's Defunct Hospital circa 1985. About 12-20 Jocks, Duh Jerk, & The 4 Stars all worked me over in shifts, slapping me & keeping me awake for weeks on end while on their drug(s?). The theme? During his shift Duh Jerk insisted that I had to kill an innocent. Fagboy said it mostly on his shift though any of the 4 Stars might be making the demand. "Now you have to kill an innocent person".
Me? I did what I'd normally been doing during the early 80s when the gang demanded I kill innocent people after a lengthy torture. "Sure". But I had no intention of killing the person they suggested. Instead I might kill one of my tormentors of a variety of sexes & ages. Other times I just killed the innocents in the periphery of the victim the gang pointed out. K-K-K-K-K-KRACK! Or maybe. BANG! BANG! BANG! Or the popular. STAB! STAB! STAB! Then the gang would let me go. I might soon go to the... cops, Local... cops or Michigan State... cops didn't matter. They'd hear me out & threaten me at best. Some kidnapped me & tortured me themselves in lengthy beatdowns while all sorts of animals raped me & told me I deserved it if only based on their beliefs of part of my story or it's entirety.
It seemed to me that Duh Jerk was getting irritated that I refused to kill his specific victims. You remember, Duh Jerk? Self-described "primarily an actor", self-professed professional liar, child--porn enthusiast, recreational child killer, baby raper. The people around me who know him best tell me that they love him. Most say that the deeds I described are "their kind of people, even admirable.
Soooooo... the gang wanted me to kill specific people & I refused, like this.
"Now you have to kill an innocent person".
"Okay".
"No. It has to be an innocent of my choosing".
"No".
"Then the torture will never end".
Time passes...
Slap! Slap! Slap! The gang toss me between them while I am exhausted & on their strength reducing drugs. I fly like a rag doll & recoil from blows made by guys I could lift with one arm elsewhere.
Now you have to kill an innocent of my choosing".
"No".
Slap! SLAP! SLAP!
Shift change.
You have to kill an innocent of my choosing".
"No".
Then the torture will never end.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Time passes...
Slap! Slap! Slap! The gang toss me between them while I am exhausted & on their strength reducing drugs. I fly like a rag doll & recoil from blows made by guys I could lift with one arm elsewhere.
"Now you have to kill an innocent of my choosing".
"No".
Slap! SLAP! SLAP!
Everyone stops to re-dose themselves with drugs.
"Now you have to kill an innocent of my choosing".
"No".
Slap! SLAP! SLAP!
Weeks pass...
Eventually, one of my torturers irritates me & I got an idea. I told Duh Jerk I wouldn't kill an innocent of his choosing but if it was a frame job film he craved... I pointed to the big Jock & said. "I'll kill him on film & even say that I did it of my own free will & without coercion".
With a giant smile Duh Jerk agreed to my terms & ordered his troops to pile on the Jock who was tied to a chair.
As I walked up to kill him the giant Jock begged his fiends for help! He pleaded with Duh Jerk & spoke his final words. "BUT I'M LOYAL"!
Then, I set out to kill him as quickly & as humanely as possible.
Yeah, they let me go.
Then every few months they kidnapped me again & again over the next few years.
How can I simplify for... cops who may be reading this the horror of many human lives being snuffed out? I mean in a way a simple & obviously "delicate" mid-Michigan... cop might comprehend? With 3 words or less so they can count them?
Rinse... Lather... Repeat...
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WEIRDISMS: IN THE BEGINNING... IT WAS A LITTLE WEIRD... a lot weird actually...
This probably belongs on my page "In the beginning". After all it's among one of my earliest memories. Why didn't I write it down in my +1,500 page letter to the FBI where someone dies every few pages? Fear. Straight up, fear. What's God got to say about fear?
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Isaiah 41:10 - Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
2 Timothy 1:7 - For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
1 John 4:18 - There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
Psalms 23:1-6 - (A Psalm of David.) The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Psalms 34:4 - I sought the LORD, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.
Proverbs 29:25 - The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the LORD shall be safe.
Philippians 4:6 - Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
Psalms 56:3-4 - What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.
Romans 8:15 - For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.
Romans 8:38-39 - For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, (Read More...)
Isaiah 43:1-3 - But now thus saith the LORD that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. (Read More...)
Proverbs 19:23 - The fear of the LORD tendeth to life: and he that hath it shall abide satisfied; he shall not be visited with evil.
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So, fear not is God's lesson. Foe me? Well, fear no more. Because I say now, publicly, that I lived through this, that the gang inflicted this story on me, and that it is true to the best of my ability. Was it as represented or just another elaborate PRACTICAL joke? Idano? I really don't care, much. Why lie now? As if one more weirdism would make the... cops say. "We were going to help you, but when we read that one Weirdism we decided not to. Frankly, you just wrote one too many Weirdisms".
Here goes...
Soooooooo there I was, a baby. Not a toddler, a baby. They tell me I was born in summer of 1965. During the summer of 1965 I could walk & talk nearly as well as many adults. Literally. It seemed to be shocking to everyone I met back then. Everyone. Everyone who met me for the 1st time might say things like. "Wow. A walking and talking baby". Everyone I'd ever met was a giant to whom I was knee high or less.
They took me into a concrete room with no windows. There were about 5 middle-aged & pot-bellied men whom My Cousin was with. in the room with only a desk for furniture. My Cousin told me these men were his Bosses, THE BOSSES. They ran the gang & were here to rape me.
Me? I was in full-blown soul-winning mode back then. "I've got good news. You don't have to do that. You don't have to commit evil. Your sins will be forgiven if you just get your heart right with God". I don't think I got it word for word, but that was the gist of my message. You don't have to do this. change your ways & get your heart right with God & you will go to Heaven when you die.
One of them told me. "I know". He explained that he knew how to get to Heaven, he knew who God was & he knew an eternity of torment awaited him for his rejection of God & for his sins. He liked it. THEY liked it. It was why they were here. Raping me, a walking & talking baby who was a good Christian was just about the most evil thing they could think of doing & they were going to do it just for the evil experience. They just wanted me to know.
Me? I was still optimistic that I could reach them for God & kept trying, wearing down the weakest of The Bosses using logic & what little I knew of the bible. One of the Bosses grew frustrated at this & suggested they begin & they all came at me as a wave. Molesting me, rubbing, well, it gets gross past this point. Then they told me they intended to drug me before they actually raped me, insertion & all. "It'll make your story more unbelievable". They assured me the... cops would never believe me if they drugged me before raping me.
Yeah, I baby resisted. For all the good it did me as they filled a syringe in front of me & injected me with who knows what?
Fade to black...
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For the reader's amusement. Listen and enjoy! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pw6_VXPwm6U
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I awoke. I was a baby, standing there with the fluids of a half-dozen perverts dripping down my thighs in a dimly lit concrete brick room, single story, about the size of a modest home with 2 doors. The room was packed with a dozen or so Jocks & about 10+ spectators who stood softly speaking to one another, & the 5 men who claimed to be The Bosses of the devil-worshiping cult that I was now a captive of. They had giant grins of self-satisfaction on their faces. The Bosses told me I was special to the gang. Very special & that the crowd was there because they wanted to witness what was going to happen. There were 2 desks that I recall. One to the side & another at the wall. It was a long desk & above it was a giant map of the earth's surface in Mercator. A country map if anyone cares. Though at the time I knew it only as a map, but to what I had no idea?
​
A weirdism is a true story that does not further the author's overall message.
"You are our Recruiter".
"Not in my America"!
/
/
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/
Actual picture of Bay City's City Hall in the background
"You are our Recruiter".
"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
A weirdism is a true story that does not further the author's overall message.
"You can quit lying because you're not fooling anybody. I've seen the films".
<<<---------------
My retort?
"What part of weird & perverse cult confuses you officer"? - David A. George
"You are our Recruiter".
I decided when I first tried reaching out to law-enforcement with my story that the best way that I could tell it & still Honor My Parents was to tell not only my story, but to tell their story as truthfully as possible & without exaggerations.
I also realized that if I lied or exaggerated I'd go down in flames so I decided to tell my story as truthfully as I could to the best of my ability.
YES YOU ARE...
Soooo... today it's 4th Grade, I dreaded the often mean petite woman teacher. In my opinion she wasn't mean to just me, no, she spread the mean fairly equally, but I did get the largest portions. A thing not always the case Circa 1974 in 4th Grade.
It was odd only in that about8-10 of my classmates surrounded me & began teasing me.
"You are so high right now".
"No I'm not.
"Yes you are". Then while just standing there I stumbled but caught myself!
The assembled students mockingly laughed at me.
As I protested they mocked me more. "Your Mother drove you here today didn't she"?
I said she had. I wondered how they knew?
"I know. They told us this morning & told us not to bring it up to you. Why do you think she drove you in"?
I inventoried my memory. In the past, worst soaking cold rains, sleet, snow, fog where I couldn't see my outstretched hand. ALL of my caps, gloves, & scarves being stolen within days of getting them meaning these were particularly miserable & sometimes life-threatening. Even the knowledge that entire groups of men, teens, & boys absolutely positively where at the location & bragged (yes, BRAGGED) they intended to beat me up (or worse) were never reasons to drive me to school. Literally. Yeah, I said literally. As a mid-Michigan... cOP you likely have a problem with that word (literaly) except when using it to insult alleged rape victims. Though she did start driving us occasionally when I was later almost twice the age I'm reporting on now.
They claimed I was too high to walk to school & the gang had a filming frame-job to film. At 1st My Mother had decided to not bring me in but they'd been there when the gang ordered her to bring me no matter what condition I was in.
"You should've seen yourself. You were stumbling all over the place when you got here".
I still denied it.
One of them challenged me. "Oh yeah? Tell us any one thing that you learned today"?
I could not answer a single thing learned.
Some of them were the cheaters who surrounded me. They mocked me. "You should've seen the gibberish that you were writing when you 1st got here". Then they all claimed that I'd never see the work I handed in, like many days of the week, because my schoolwork was gibberish because of the drugs I was on. The teachers were in on it & I'd never be handed back my insane drugged gibberish I'd written. It'd be used against me in court one day they said they'd been told.
I did follow up on it & on that day the beautiful but mean blondish petite 4th grade teacher handed back the corrected paperwork & mine was not included.
So.... is this everyday Americana? Just a normal Norman Rockwell moment of time in a mundane American classroom? I'm asking not telling because I have nothing to compare it to?
Sigh...
"You are our Recruiter".
<<<----------------
Just another weirdism follow up...
The Last Snitch brought up this weirdism to me. He noted the planned attack against me, my ongoing public attempted murder, & said how the thing had been planned as a no fail win/win event.
"You'll have to admit under oath that you attacked the girls of your classroom".
"So? They attacked me with the boys of the classroom. That made them legitimate targets in my mind".
"As soon as you admit to that you attacked the girls you pave the way for our counter accusation. Then we'll be able to say you attacked the girls and add any counter-accusation we choose".
"It's the accusations of our victims reflected back at them that are our true power".
<<<------------------------------------------
He said I had been on their drugs. He actually gave "a tip of the hat to me", I'd shimmied & talked my way out of a masterwork frame job meant to do away with me in a way the... cops would never take what I had to say seriously ever again AND while on his drugs. He said it was very hard to do.
I only bring it up the second time in a trivia content kind of way to discuss an infallible "... cOP point".
In the past I've told... cops I did this, that, or the other thing while on the gang's drugs. I explained to them many of the decisions I made were in fact made in a moment of time AND addled by the drug(s?) & didn't represent what I or what they told me they thought was how a normal or rational person may react in a given situation.
Often while actually on the gang's drugs, recovering from a lengthy sleep deprivation torture session, or both, I expressed my displeasure with the quality of my answers too & addressed their displeasure at my then addled responses to their interrogations when I came in of my own accord in attempts to file a Police Report or, to address their very serious allegations against me wheresoever they may be happening to me. From the ages of toddler onward.
In short just about every... cop I ever met told me that they figured that even on the gang's drug(s), sleep deprived & pushed past the limits of human mental endurance by tortures (that never failed to offend ANY... cop I ever met whenever I used the word "torture") that they were pretty confident that they could make the hard ethical decisions in the often scripted situations that I described. That when confronted by explosive scenarios like I complained of that they'd come out smelling like 100% ethical roses every single time, thus they had no respect for me or any poor choices I claim time, drugs, or deprivation had inflicted on me... and sadly on way too many innocent people, and quite a few not so innocent people.
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"Yes you talked your way out of that explosive situation Citizen. But you're still the scumbag in this situation because you're obviously delirious or on drugs". - Not an actual... cop quote word for word but the wise get the gist of it.
Yeah, whatever...
A weirdism is a true story that does not further the author's overall message.
Psalm 27 Of David. The LORD is my light and my salvation-- whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life-- of whom shall I be afraid? When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall.
I have never seen a world map as large as I saw that day. I also have never seen a map as detailed as the cities, towns, & villages were detailed on the map as I had that day. That was one huge map that required a ladder to climb to cut out a piece of.
The weirdism here? I'll bet the following "impartial <koff koff> investigators" would've called King David a liar too when he wrote Psalms 119.
A weirdism is a true tale that does not further the author's story. The date is 9-21-22 & all that I have written today are all weirdisms.
Whatever...
​
​
What ARE they injecting into my face?
The map was across the room from me & that made it difficult for me to make out any details. My Cousin was nowhere to be seen.
The Bosses announced the "occasion" the guests had come to see. They intended to throw a dart at the map & that would indicate where in the world I would be raised by the gang for the rest of my life as a show of their power against me, their sworn enemy. It was a special occasion because it was against me, a walking & talking christian baby. The very embodiment of their enemy.
Everyone perked up & quieted down & the speaker & I became the centers of attention in the room. Their plan was to throw an ordinary dart at the map of the world & wheresoever it landed was where I would be raised by the gang.
Me? I expressed some doubts. I wasn't sure how big the world was but it was pretty big & they told me it was fragmented, no one owned or controlled any of it. That made what he had to say impossible to believe.
He retorted that the gang was large & very powerful and had agents in every corner of the world. No matter where the dart landed they would be able to make sure that I was raised there. Everyone seemed to nod & agree in general.
I told him I suspected fraud. They were devil-worshipers, servants of the Lord of Lies after all. They probably had some expert who never missed about to throw the dart at the map & would act amazed at the randomness of his accurate dart hit & that no one should buy it.
Surprisingly, the room seemed to agree with me.
I proposed that there was only one way to know the dart throw would be fair & that was for me to throw the dart.
The Bosses chatted & agreed. The dart was handed to me & I was encouraged to throw it anywhere at the world map I wanted. The entire room hung on my every move & I paused, praying to God for the strength to even hit the board & that I'd hit it someplace where he wanted it to land, where it would be best for him.
So I threw the dart aiming for the center of the map (Central America, but I did not know that then). The dart went high & a little to the right. THUDD!
The Bosses & the crowd crowded the board & announced that it'd landed on Bay City Michigan in America.
Me? When I found it hard to buy that they could know the location so precisely they invited me to look at the map closely. It had every single city & village in the world on it in fine print & marked well. While I couldn't read I recall the mitten-shaped hole where my dart had just made.
One of The Bosses was livid. Sure he'd agreed to the dart toss but what if I was an expert dart throw who knew the map well. Not too hard to believe since I was already a walking & talking baby after all. Many of the room agreed with him. He demanded they stick to the original plan & that one of them throw the dart.
The other Bosses agreed quickly among themselves & the Speaker presented the dart to the whiner. One of The Bosses told his fellow Boss to step back to where I'd thrown the dart from so it'd be fair. Then he could throw the dart & send me to any hellhole in the world he wanted. He drew back & threw the dart & it landed in the same spot!
The Whiner Boss was furious & demanded another toss. The other Bosses said they'd all decreed a single toss of the dart would decide the rest of my life & it was his own fault if he wanted me to end up someplace else he should've thrown better. "I guess it was just meant to be".
When he was told the darts hit the same spot he claimed he could see they were a slight distance apart. The Whiner Boss demanded they scrutinize the map better for the exact point he'd thrown. A ladder was brought for him & he promptly fell as he neared the top injuring himself in some way. Jocks were ordered to climb the ladder & cut out a peice of the map & bring it down to us & they did. He'd hit right next to my point of impact. The other Bosses wanted to see too. They brought in other maps & compared the location. Kawkawlin Michigan. A small place next to Bay City. The Whiner demanded that I be sent to the place of HIS dart throw, not mine. After a long argument they all agreed.
The Speaker announced I was to be drugged now & sent to live in the spot of the dart throw.
Me? I told them I suspected fraud again. You see, at that time they'd let me watch a few hours of TV on an occasion or 2 while dealing with me. One was of a show where a man amazed everyone with his master dart throws & then he showed them how he tricked his audience with misdirection. I figured the same thing was going on here. They were the agents of the Devil after all, the Lord of Lies & master of fraud.
The Bosses protested innocence.
Me? I said something like. "Yeah, right. You guys let me watch a few hours of TV & it just happened to be about a guy teaching people how to fraudulently throw darts to amaze crowds". I didn't buy it & no one there should. "One of your guys told me that you feel that when you defraud someone that you feel that you should tell them how you did it. So I've only ever seen a few hour of TV & it just happened to have a show about how to cheat with darts in front of crowds of people"?
They tackled me when I resisted & drugged me with who knows what?
Fade to black...
​
PRACTICAL joke? Real life event? The Last Snitch brought it up, so did My Cousin but who cares right? They both noted that the event became famous in the gang for it's lore value. So famous that they decided to have some pop band allegedly do a similar dart throw years later so they could get their gang members to quit talking about it by having a more famous story to deflect from it.
How do I, the Author of this website explain this? I cant & I wouldn't even try. Are there an army of imprisoned former child-victims of the gang who fell victim to this con who'll swear it's all true? Was it a dart that landed where it did by luck or was it guided by the Hand of God? Was it just another of the gang's more intricate PRACTICAL jokes? How about just a big old coincidence that years later the Bosses noticed they could add to their expanding library of lies & half-truths by manipulating what happened with another half-truth based on a half-truth they planned to use against me anyway? Just a fortunate coincidence they could bloom into an even more absurd story to make my claims all the more unbelievable?
Recap. So how do I explain this? I cant & I wouldn't even fathom to try. Sorting through the clues isn't my job. It never was. I write the clues down & more experienced professionals can sort through them & tell the rest of us what happened IF they care to investigate. Personally I wouldn't waste the time or money on it as no matter how well one investigated it's happenstance would boil down to the word of another "Reliable Informant" or "Reliable Source" & mine own word. Me? I wouldn't trust one of them if they swore grass was green & the sky was blue unless I double checked just to make sure.
Idano? All I know is what I have presented here. And I don't care... much.
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Addendum to the above" FEAR:0 ME:1
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THE ORDEAL IN THE BACK HALL: perspectives... yeah, they would...
This weirdism, a true tale that likely does not further the author's story begins in my cell, oops, I mean my crib where I sat daily in silence across from My Bro. Gone now are the days where I sat alone in the crib with a firetruck, a very solid glass baby bottle (that made excellent pain inflicting devices), & SITTING ALONE IN A DIAPER. Now we sat in the quiet clothed in pants & a t-shirt usually. My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) or her Brother would open the door every few hours & see if we needed to use the bathroom or to announce a mealtime. At which point we would walk a few steps to the kitchen table, eat, & then be returned to our room.
Any noise by My Bro or myself, accidental, on purpose, or whispering or talking resulted in swift & immediate punishment... for me! For me alone. Usually 20-30 slaps to the face but a belt or any household appliance or utensil may be grabbed & I'd be struck repeatedly with that.
Sometimes I asked my captors... I mean My Mother or my by now long gone Dad (Honor Honor Honor) why I was being punished?
"Because you didn't keep your Brother quiet"! "Because you didn't control him [My Bro]"!
This begged my sobbing follow-up question. "How am I supposed to control him if I cant talk to him or touch him or have anything to do with him"?
They usually answered me. "That's your problem".
I asked My Bro why he'd acted up? It seemed like a fair question to me?
"Because I'm bored & there's nothing to do but watch you get hit".
This is how I spent most of my days at age 3. It wasn't fun 1 bit.
Day after day...
Time passes...
Tick... tick... tick...
Then one day My Mother entered the room & addressed me & said something like. "Hey David. How would you like to get out of the crib & learn how to fight"?
I balked at 1st as the invitation to learn to fight had always been just a cruel prelude to lengthy torment & outright torture sessions.
My Mother assured me there were 2 teenagers present who she'd explained my dilemma of constant beatings to & they'd agreed to teach me how to fight! Plus I'd get out of the crib AND make some friends (they'd have been my 1st).
WOW! was I thrilled & I'll bet I just leaped from my crib & was eager to meet these 2 white knights.
My Mother brought me into them & told us to play.
I was thrilled to finally learn to defend myself.
The pair sized me up & talked to me shortly.
Then the pair tackled me! They started beating me.
I cried out!
My Mother investigated.
The pair said it was a vigilante style beating because I was misbehaving (where have I heard that before?).
I denied their accusations.
My Mother demanded I submit to a gauntlet.
The pair slapped my face about 20-30 times each.
Then My Mother ordered the fight instruction to begin again & she went to sit in the next room at the kitchen table.
As soon as she was out of sight the pair tackled me! They started beating me.
I cried out!
My Mother investigated.
The pair said it was a vigilante style beating because I was misbehaving (where have I heard that before?).
I denied their accusations.
My Mother demanded I submit to a gauntlet.
The pair slapped my face about 20-30 times each.
Then My Mother ordered the fight instruction to begin again & she went to sit in her normal spot at the kitchen table.
As soon as she was out of sight the pair tackled me! They started beating me.
I cried out!
My Mother investigated.
The pair said it was a vigilante style beating because I was misbehaving (where have I heard that before?).
I denied their accusations.
My Mother demanded I submit to a gauntlet.
The pair slapped my face about 20-30 times each.
Then My Mother ordered the fight instruction to begin again & she went to sit in her normal spot at the kitchen table.
I think it repeated 3, maybe 4 times before I realized that when I cried out more pain came, not less. So I figured I'd best shut up & quietly took my beating.
The pair told me the beating was to last an hour. Every now and then they wrestled me & beat me more but it was primarily beating that occupied their hour. They pointed to the clock & would say things like. "The beatings will end ad 2 o'clock today". Maybe 3 o'clock, maybe sooner.
The hour ended & My Mother was summoned by them & she sent me to my crib.
The pair came back 3-5 times a week. They never cheated the hour. If I put a boo-boo or injury on them of any sort I was severely punished in lengthy screaming & slap & spanking sessions along with a well-deserved gauntlet.
Though I couldn't read or tell time yet I learned to tell hourly time from the pair because when the big hand on the clock reached the top of the clock's face the hour was over & the pain ended. I would be sent to my room to lick my wounds & to deal with My Bro's righteous rage that I'd gotten to leave the crib & he hadn't (a situation he never endured from me once BTW).
I recall the 1st time when I was wiping off blood & nursing some cuts when My Bro expressed his jealousy at my being able to leave the crib. He declared that as revenge for my new privilege that he didn't have he was going to start acting up & getting me punished as revenge!
I tried to reason with him. "All they do is beat me"! Then I showed him my cuts & bruises & quietly explained the situation that had befallen me fearful that if heard I would face even more pain... literally.
He didn't seem impressed in my opinion. Or maybe it was because out of necessity we just didn't talk much to each other in the cribs except for a few whispered words in secret spoken from opposite sides of the room (lest we should interact).
​
JUST ANOTHER DAY: THE ORDEAL IN THE BACK HALL... Yeah, they would...
I thought I''d start with a boring & mundane day in the ordeal. You know, because in my opinion it'd be stupid to soft sell it, but I'm likely so screwed (barring a miracle from God) I really don't care.
Sooooo... Usually My Cousin ordered The Ordeal In The Back Hall at My Mother's Parent's to begin by moving the party outside. Today it's just My Trio of Cousins & a few of their "Pinch Hitters" (my nickname for them), friends of theirs who'd be paid by My Cousin (or so he bragged) to beat on me.
With a thumb point My Cousin ordered us verbally into the back hall. There The Trio & their friends would split up, one group on each side & I was expected to walk back & forth. At each end they would try to land blows. Some days they were more excited to do their jobs than others. Today I'll discuss a boring, same old same old boring hot on hot summer day.
My Mother's Parents usually announced that if they were partying outside then they weren't running the air conditioner. The house would soon turn into an oven.
Me? I was expected to walk back & forth & block every blow I could. Today, they gang's kind'a not feeling it. They sit or stand in place & land casual blows at me as I walk up. Then I turn around towards the other group. They try to land blows. Maybe today they are really apathetic, a few don't even look at me when they attack & there's not even a break in the conversation as they do so.
They got a 15 minute break after 2 hours & a half hour for lunch. I got no breaks.
Today is a rare day, My Cousin is gone & the Trio announce that after lunch they figure that they can just knock off early & not get caught.
Just another average summer day for me.
It gets worse... though every mid-Michigan... cop I ever met would call someone with this story a liar.
Go figure huh?
​
WE KNOW HOW TO MAKE SCHOOLKIDS MISERABLE... and never cease to brag about it too!!!
Soooooo... there I was, I was minding my own beeswax at Bay City's Witless School back in the 70s when one of the gang, a classmate approached me. He had a lot to say. Didn't they all? He asked me to note that my vinyl school binder was ripped along the seams... again. Did I notice?
Yup, I sure did notice. So what?
He told me that being that the gang were run from the school< & Duh Jerk was in charge at that Witless School, that the gang liked to vandalize the school supplies of their victims. "We ruined that notebook. We always wreck your notebook by ripping it apart at the seams". Steal & vandalize my school supplies, books, & gear. It was a matter of business to them, something they always did.
Me? I told him I didn't buy it.
So he asked me, challenged me. "Okay then. When did you rip that notebook"? When I didn't immediately answer he asked. "When did you rip any of your notebooks"?
I told him I had ripped one... once.
"Once? Where are all your pencils? Where are all your ink pens? Where's your eraser? I know you had one? Where is it"?
Gone for certain, how I did not know. I told him My Bro was a horrible crook, he'd probably taken them just like he stole just about all my possessions he could. It was why I could own nothing any good. Well, him and the rest of my family. But that particular notebook I told him I'd confronted My Bro & he'd admitted to tearing it up. When I'd asked why he said it was for revenge. I was the good kid, he hated me, he hated that at times it was my job to rat on his misdeeds. I'd explained like usual that I hated doing that & begged that he no longer do them in front of me. "Cant you at least try not to get caught"? No. He didn't care if he got caught he'd said from time to time, but wanted revenge none the less so he'd ripped my notebook At the seams as part of his campaign. "So that you cant have nice things".
That classmate said. "I was there when Duh Jerk ordered your Bro to do it. That's why I'm telling you". When I balked at his explanation he added that since they ran organized crime out of the school of course they went out of their way to make their victims miserable in big AND little ways too. Like wrecking things pertaining to their child victims to enable them to be shamed & ridiculed all the easier by the child-molestor classmates around them. "He knows how to make school kids miserable".
Why'd I bring it up? Because they've never quit it& still do it to this day. As I leaf through my written notes I see the evidence of rough handling. The pages are torn about the edges just as they were when I was a kid, parts ripped & then ripped out & missing the next time I look. The wire binding ripped out, the book rings smashed, the pages rubbed together for long periods so as to smear them, wetted, & often torn out & out of order when I check them. They steal my artwork, it never lasts long. Indeed they boast it's their storehouse of my artwork, some on display (where? Idano?), that will give them immunity to prosecution. "How could we be his raping stalkers Mr Prosecutor? Look at all of his artwork I have. I even keep some of it on display. Would a raping stalker do that"? Apparently not I'm told but the gang brags it's a standard practice.
I just bought a new pack of lead pencils (horrible quality, in a single nite I'm already using the 3rd of 8, they ran out of lead that quickly). It usually takes them about 6 months to a year to steal all of a 10 pack of pencils & a 20 pack of pens. A few at a time. Last years double packs of lead pencils, ink pens, & the colored markers & colored pencils are all gone but 2 lead pencils without erasers (I bought new ones because they were kind of smudgy).
My classmate asked me. "When was the last time you ever wore a pencil down to the nub"? "When was the last time you ever used an ink pen until it ran out of ink? Decades later The Last Snitch asked me. "When was the last time you threw out an old pair of underwear? We all do it. We all have a day when we go through our underwear drawer & throw out the old ones that are not in good shape. When was the last time you did that"?
Not often, not very often at all. In fact I'll use a single word to describe the situation below. Please note it & it's meaning Sirs.
Just another weirdism I wrote lamenting over my once again missing pens, pencils, & markers. My recently soiled underwear (except for tighty whiteys) all stolen by madmen for who know what reason (I shudder to guess, yech). The date is 9-31-22 & I have 2 questions. Where are all my pens, pencils, markers, & colored pencils & 2. What are they injecting into my face?
​
Rare rare /rer?/
-
​
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(of a thing) not found in large numbers and consequently of interest or value.
"the jellyfish tree, one of the rarest plants on earth"
unusually good or remarkable.
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"he plays with rare strength and sensitivity"
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"he rarely owned any pens, pencils, or markers long enough to have them actually wear out"
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I was talking with The Last Snitch about "my plan" against the gang during a drugged debriefing. I told him everything & answered all of his questions (there's more than one reason the gang uses drugs on it's victims).
I explained then that I dreamed of writing a webpage & publicly telling my side of the story. He seemed amused. He claimed that with their contacts in major company computer servers (I wont slander the specific companies he said they worked for) I would be easily shadow banned by the gang. "No one will see your website". Fair enough, they have powerful badges backing them up, a host of films, their god or gods, and an entire army of member/victims & disposable but fircely loyal victim/members. All I have is The LORD & whatever giggling investigators that may have somehow stumbled into reading my webpage (I didn't pick my theme song to be "I stand alone" by Godsmack for no reason, personally I'd rather have had "There's power in the blood" myself).
1st song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbJTDNELRSk
2nd song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQywg3dUSg4
​
"Do you know how I know you're lying"? Several... cops asked me said to me word for word over the years.
I replied. "No". But I was curious how them... cops came to that conclusion?
"Because you accused a child-molester of violence & I know for a fact that child-molesters love children & would never hurt one".
I humbly disagreed with his conclusion.
WEIRDISM 101... The Insert???
Soooooo... there he was. My new neighbor I met when I was age 6 & moved to our new rental home at Bay City Michigan's 1269 Harrison Street. The kid wanted to hang out & we became fast friends. Strange? Only in that I'd never had a friend before. In "my opinion" the combined might of my family & their Partners in Crime worked tirelessly to thwart any and all friendships I ever made before they could begin. We;ll gat to him soon, for now, tales of others I tried to befreind first. Enjoy!
I can recall one new friend (actually, several, but who's counting? I could re-type this story over & over & it'd be the same so why bother, right?) , My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) would engage the boys in conversation that always lead to their skill at fighting or their desire for violence. While many answered differently I'll bring up 1 of 2 that come to mind. I'd met the 7ish year old kid at the local Bay City Boy's Club, you know, the gang's unassailable & above reproach recruiting fortress, or so they brag. We'd hung out there doing innocent boy stuff & this time he'd come home with me & caught My Mother's eye (I feel an internal need to write 3 more honors here) Honor honor honor. She sat him down in our living room & inquired about his life, who & what he was. Then the conversation turned to violence. Just like the other little boy My Mother asked him if he'd ever been in a fight.
Me? I got nervous there, but there wasn't much I could do. I recall that in my heart I knew where the conversation was headed next & had always hoped to find another friend who'd rise above it.
My Mother seemed shocked when the boy, the "boys" said that he had never hit another human being in his life.
My Mother seemed... well, I'm not sure. Putting on a devilsh smile she asked him if he'd like to hit someone all he wanted without reprecussion.
The boy sheepishly said he would.
That was great My Mother replied. She turned to me & told me I was to stand in place & let the boy slap me in the face all he wanted.
Me? I was appauled & tried to talk my way out of it. To the one boy she'd said that I'd done something a few weeks ago & she was meaning to punish me for it. She couldn't recall but since my punishment was so well-deserved for my offence the pain should begin immeadiately.
The other boy? She just told me I was tough & could take it.
I protested. "You always tell me I'm the biggest wimp around. How am I tough now"? Not an exact quote, but our convesations often went like that.
In each case I had to stand there & let the boys slap me in the face. I recall the one gleefully hit me hundreds of slaps. Later when he approached me with the goal of freindship I sent him packing.
The other boy who had known no violence? I recall after about 20-30 slaps he stopped. My Mother goaded him on into hundreds of blows.
In each case My Mother (Honor honor honor) made me then go to the store to get the boys some soda, candy, & cigarettes. She almost always made it a point to say. "I'm using your child-support money".
Me? I almost always made it a point to reply. "So what? I never get any of it anyway".
I was The Good Kid. The Good Kid obeys unquestioningly. I went to the store every single time I was ordered & bought exactly what I was told to buy. Rosey red cheeks and all.
Children bragged that once I was gone that the conversation with the boys changed from violence to love. But hey, I wasn't there so how would I know? Right?
Some of the boys I'd never see again. A few others made it a point to ask to take some of my belongings & they ALL got whatsoever they requested & those items were not paid for nor replaced & never once came with any thank you I can recall.
I was going to write about my alleged insert neighbor. Yawn. As I sit here 11-7-22 with my right cheek numb, probably wounded for life, I just ain't feeling it. Maybe I should do it in a Recap? As if one more story would send... cops & Police (there's a difference) rushing out to investigate my claims. I ain't renaming this tale.
Slurred sigh...
"I like to keep my victims well-informed. A surprised look is a great defense in court".
Ask any Law Enforcement Officer or Agent you might know this question, Reader.
"How does this guy David A. George know all this stuff"?
DUH JERK SENT ME TO TELL YOU SOMETHING... WE GOT YOU THIS TIME!!! To RPG or not to RPG, what was the question???
Sooooo... there I was Circa 1979 when a standard stereotypical "Snitch" approached me. He had a lot to say. "Duh Jerk sent me to tell you something".
"What"? I probably asked in the usually bored tone I use when the obligatory gang mouthpiece has approached me to boast on behalf of the game. Usually I use that time to look for the hidden cameraman & the location of the army of Jocks backing this paid professional liar up.
You started playing Dungeons & Dragons recently didn't you"?
Yup. I sure had. In my heart I predicted everything this tiny mouthpiece was about to say. But I bit my tounge & waited.
He went on to explain in great detail that I'd played the game in an insane-sounding haphazard way complete with conversations that make any 10 serial-killers blush from shame (extremely far from his exact words, I'm paraphrasing. You want the more complete jist of the story, read my +1,500 page letter to the FBI where someone dies or is hurt every few pages).
Allow me to explain myself here Reader. It was just before my 13th Birthday when I hit a low-point. Mentally I'd hit my limit. I was spent. The attempted murders, The Gym, The Ordeal in the Back Hall, I lost all of my churches, all of my friends, I shared a room with a guy I nicknamed Serial-Rapist who failed to answer this question (as did I for trivia's sake). "How many times did you try to kill me"? He couldn't come close to the nearest number when I asked. Even to the nearest 100s. I was being attacked all over town. Police were attacking me. Threatening me with legal & illegal threats constantly. Vigilantes seemed endless & the films of the last ones made for great films to inspire the next ones the gang bragged endlessly. It was the summer of Men are from Mars but Molestors are from Mercury & it's madness. The long torture sessions, the druggings, the deprivations, the absolutely intolerable home environment of madness. I was spent. Tapped out. I was tired of all the carnage. Tired of all the killing. I was just tired...
Sooooooo... how does one handle such a situation? Admit weakness? Not with my family. Not with my enemies. Call a cop? Yeah... been there, wrote a bazillion stories on the pathetic subject. Seek help? Where? I'd asked every service I could but the President of the United States. I'd even called Scotland Yard, the Moonies, Monasteries, tried my best to find international jobs. ALL had failed. All. EVery... single... one...
Duh Jerk personally bragged to me of my demise if I was ever fool enough to seek professional counciling. They'd just recruit them, make them accuse me of any scenario the gang wished, produce a few films, & leave me with an impossible to defend story that begins with "yeah, I went to see that shrink voluntarily but the guy with all the degrees on the wall is a liar'. Game over.
Soooo... I approached the subject logically. You know: Physician heal thyself kind'a thing. So I read up on the subject. I figured most of it required more than 1 person. SO they were not options. But I read repeatedly that many Doctors treated their patients using role-playing exercises based on their trauma.
What did I have to lose? So I turned to RPG games as an attempt at therapy. Of course they were sort'a fun. In time I was in charge of my own group. I was responsible for creating game content. In the game players play characters of varying ethics & disposition based on "alignment". One might like law & order. Another my aspire to chaos & evil. I played many but when I was in charge it became my duty to play the bad guys. In the game the leader acts out the role of the game villain. Often taunting or even seemingly planning very evil deeds, often for profit.
"We got you now". The mouthpiece explained. With the edited films I sounded like a madman's madman at best. Add in the gaming that took place AFTER their deprivation sessions & I sound quite demented (likely because I may have been at that time, addled by the torture, drugs, & deprivation past & then present).
I remembered Duh Jerk's advice to me on how I'd be blackmailing & framing people as one of his team when he tried to recruit me in Early Fall of 1976. He said actors were the easiest to frame & destroy regardless of who they were.
Me? I doubted that. It seemed to me that the actor's fame, even local fame of local small town actors would act as a buffer, protecting them from comic-book villains like Duh Jerk & the Munger Boy 5 (his young henchmen).
Not so Duh Jerk assured me. The catch was you could ask them to play just about any role, on film. It made making films to inspire vigilantes easy. Actors were especially easy because. "Because they will even help you set up the camera".
Over the years I became lucid or semi-lucid at many a pretend game (a pretend version of an rpg game that is in itself pretend. Go figure huh?) only to se I've been hanging with the 4 Stars, their pristine dice & immaculate character sheets & pristine tabletop before me (things you never see in any real game). They certainly have no shortage of films & pictures where we seem to be enjoying the game.
The Last Snitch bragged to me. Ever notice you've been drugged deleterious while gaming?
I said I had. I thought it was the perils of gaming in the modern area of dealers spiking the drugs. Distasteful, but what could I do?
He claimed the gang's inserts doped me. This provided a film where I'm in charge, the 4 Stars & or other buttbuddies show up, game a while, then leave before I become lucid again. "I cant believe you fell for it". He mocked me.
Infamous moments? Sure. Starting lately to earlier. The Last Snitch gave me highlights of their best of the best reels which the gang has bragged on over the years.
Lately? I DM'd a White Supremacist. The party were hired to infiltrate his compound & gain his trust. Then kill him. I was alarmed when I played the jerk as charismatic as I could. Then I overheard the players one day. They said among themselves they liked the guy better than their employer. They planned on siding with the Supremacist & dumping their old boss. I was outraged & had no intention of playing the bad guy like that any longer. So I had him open his mouth, spout some white power doctrine, Racial slurs & jokes, & the party was all too glad to eliminate him. They said the edited films of me playing as the guy are quite damning. Especially when you consider the cross-burnings the gang has dragged me to over the years... on film.
My defense? RPGs about dealing with the white supremacists the gang has inflicted on me were designed as an outlet for me to deal with the situation.
Actually I heard the above decades earlier too. They said my racist game play (speaking as the villain the PC's would soon eliminate, it WAS my job to be the bad guy, literally) validated many of their films & the slayings & injuries associated with them. My bad.
I played GDW's Traveller. They bragged the modern day & futuristic action made it easy to make it seem like I was literaly planning crimes in modern day America. Easy because in the game we were planning modern day crimes in an RPG version of modern day America.
THe Last Snitch teased me as a few of his kind had before. He asked me to recall when My Buddy (he mentioned him by name) & other gamers asked me to run custom missions. "Remember when your Buddy asked you to run a mission of robbing a bank"? Then we made you practice robbing the bank in the floor plans over & over for a month just before he left town (where soon Shortstuff increased his height surgically to avoid future prosecution). He said the films sound just like I was planning the bank
Missions to poison the Great Lakes? Yeah, planning, execution, you name it.
Missions to kill or capture government officials. Local & other nations. Small time & world leaders? Yup! I hear the edited films are quite damning.
My Pal even convinced me to run a mission where the goal was to capture & brainwash a famous British Pop group. He even encouraged us to pic a fav band member. Eh, I regretted it & told him I'd rather not but I did. When it came time they each took charge of their fav & encouraged me to keep my fav. I released them stating I had no interest in such a thing. But the entire scene did seem to make for a then-therapeutic session that helped me deal with the stress of my life. My Pal chose the daughter of a crime-boss world leader as his pick. I played her valiant escape.
The snitch claimed the crime Boss had a rep that he just might kill me himself just for what happened ingame. Oops... if true my bad. I apologize.
Other highlights?
Uuuhhhh... at this time they boor me. Suffice it to say that you pick the RPG situation, & I probably ran it in 30 years of being in charge, And the gang was there to film many of them for later editing.
I hear the films look quite damning & the crimes based on the films make for a story no 100 good men could hope to beat in court.
The above is just the tip of the iceberg.. The tiny itty bitty tip of the massive amount of bragging the gang has done on the subject.
Whatever...
<-----------
It occurs to me I should put the sentence "as did I" into context for the Reader concerning the number of times Serial Rapist tried to kil me in life. When asked he said he had no idea what the actual number was.
I told him me neither, I didn't count the number of times he tried to kill me, an especially large number when he giddily aided my "Trio of Cousins" in trying to kill me.
"Can you guess to within 10 "?
"No".
"Me neither".
"How about can you guess to within 100"?
He thought about it a while & said. "No".
"Me either". Then I asked him. "Do you know why I never tried to kill you"?
He said no, but he had wondered why I hadn't tried to kill him as revenge?
"Because if I tried to kill you I would have succeeded". I shared a room and a bunk bed with that guy for years.
​
Proverbs 17::17 states that "A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity".
There are no loopholes.
"I'd rather talk my way out of a fight than fight". - David A. George
WAIT UNTIL I'M GONE... Then shoot him...
Soooo... it was Circa 1985 or so. I was slapped awake by who I don't recall. But I recall who was there. Duh Jerk & The 4 Star & Bay City Michigan's very own Dirty Cop himself in full police regalia with about a dozen or so giant Jocks & about as many small children (Author Note: "EWWWWWW"!!!).
Someone pointed out I was awake & looked lucid so Duh Jerk said. "Oh. You're awake"? Then he explained the rest of my life to me.
It seems I'd provoked him for the last time. So he got one of his Victim/Members who was blackmailed enough to go to prison for life to agree to shoot me dead for him as revenge for what I'd done lately (what exactly? I don't know now & wasn't sure then). Well, for that and... yeah he used the phrase... for that and... "Revenge for The Gym". He was going to kill me on camera & Dirty Cop was going to be patrolling the neighborhood so as to be 1st Officer on the scene to investigate the murder. Also there to finish me off if need be with bad medical help & to prevent anyone passing by from accidentally saving me. The perfect murder. The guy would probably do the next 20 years in prison, A bargain considering he could go to prison for life on Duh jerk's whim for all the stuff he had him framed for.
The 4 Stars mocked me & called me random potty mouth names.
I retorted calling them factual insults.
Duh Jerk bragged on the pistol he'd chosen. A .45 ACP. "I know you trained with it in the Navy & it'll make your story more unbelievable".
Me? I suspected that fact was true but told him I'd shot a lot of guns in life & to say my story was more or less believable because my attacker used a certain type of gun would be a reach.
He laughed at me. It'd work. He knew his stuff & the cops ate this kind of evidence up.
Duh Jerk gave his final instructions. "Wait until I'm gone & shoot him". He cautioned him to be careful as I'd rushed gunmen before & thwarted my murder before. He bade that Dirty Cop stay til the last, just in case I somehow got the pistol away from my would-be murderer & told him to leave but only once he'd heard their cars engine noise fade into the distance.
They did this all in front of a camera on a tripod.
What'd I do while they chatted? Atheist me? I prayed!
I pointed out to Duh Jerk the camera would make great evidence against him.
He laughed & told me the film would be edited long before any jury ever saw it. Dirty Cop would make sure of that.
Me? I turned to my assassin & told him he was a fool if he thought he'd live through 20 years of prison. Duh Jerk would most certainly kill him.
The guy, about my age, a little leaner & maybe 2" shorter told me in so many words he'd take that bet. 20 years in prison to kill a scumbag like me? He'd seen "The Films" & it was something he felt would see him through the next 20 years, making it bearable, noble even being I was such a murderous perverted scumbag.
I asked him if he was indeed blackmailed then inquired what the terms of the blackmail were? Did Duh Jerk & The 4 Stars get films on him in a drugged & perverse situation, with children, & then threaten to expose him as something he wasn't? And I took a half step forward.
The guy told me it was true. Just as I'd said.
I then asked him if knowing that could he believe that I too was framed by the madman before us?
It looked like gears shifter in his head, levers activated, switched flipped & he had a look of epiphany. He looked almost sad when he said "It doesn't matter". He'd come too far. 20 years or a life sentence were the choices, thus he would kill me anyway & feel like garbage in prison.
Duh Jerk laughed!
They all left with Duh Jerk cautioning the guy & Dirty Cop to just shoot me if I moved, lest I get the gun & start shooting.
Me? I bidded my time... and took a half step forward.
The door closed. Some big engined but otherwise well-tuned motors revved up & the noise of them faded into the distance.
Dirty Cop & I exchanged insults. The way he explained it to me was he knew he was a scumbag slimy dirty cop. He hated Duh Jerk, & Duh Jerk knew it. But he hated me worst of all & with my death he could forever close the book on... "The Gym".
So Dirty Cop left too. Pistol ready to shoot me all the way I'd suppose. & so I took a step forward.
That left the guy & me. I took a half step forward.
The guy forcefully pointed the gun at me & told me to get back.
I didn't & instead once again shifted my weight awkwardly, thus as he spoke necessitating a half step forward.
I tried to talk him out of it.
He refused. He'd come too far. Besides, he was a man of his word.
Yeah, I did mock that. Pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America? Swear to obey the law in life? Who's a man of their word now?
He lamented shaking his head he was going to feel horrible for killing me. He'd probably kill himself later. But I was going to die. He'd come too far. He was too involved to turn back now.
I worked on the guilt angle.
The guy refused & I milked it for another shifting slowly forward step forward as Dirty Cops' Bay City Michigan tax-payer funded car started & pulled away.
As the engine faded I prayed for strength, for a plan. Anything? Here's what happened after my atheist prayer of faith. A prayer of faith? Yeah. That God would help me. I was pretty sure he didn't exist. But I prayed in faith that if he did exist then I knew he'd help me. Here's what happened:
I could see in his eyes he was about to act. So I focused my eyes on the doorway behind the guy & said something like. "I thought you were leaving"?
The guy bought it.! He turned around as if someone was behind him in the doorway. I rushed forward & put my finger on the end of the barrel probably at the last possible moment as he readied to fire!
I stepped up & told him I knew the safety of that kind of pistol engaged when the front of the barrel was touched. The gun wouldn't work. We did a short arm wiggle forward where he tried to maneuver the gun so he could shoot. I simply kept[t [ace with him & told him even if he could get the gun to fire with my finger on the barrel it'd explode.
Then I took the gun away from him & told him to get away. He grabbed the gun & there was a 5 second struggle for the pistol. Maybe less?
Me? I didn't want a long protracted fight for the pistol so I hatched a plan. I gave up control with 1 hand enabling him to start to take it from me. Then I split my fingers into a "V" shape & poked his eyes! Exploding his right eye! Then I took control of the gun & threw it behind me! He teared up & stepped back & pulled a formidable-looking knife & told me he was going to kill me!
Me? I put on my best game face. I told him he was tearing up & could barely see. If I whupped him with a gun & 2 good eyes I'd tear him apart & kill him because he could barely keep his eye open.
He still threatened me.
I told him all I had to do was block his initial attack. The gun was behind me & I'd grab it & kill him! Or he could back off & I'd leave.
He told me he'd shoot me in the back as soon as I tried to leave.
I retorted. I was running away. I have no pride. Once I was gone he could grab the gun & shoot. But since he could barely keep his eye open & it was full of tears I didn't think he had much odds of hitting anything with a long distance pistol shot.
So I left. What'd I do? I ran away from there changing direction often. Then I hatched a plan on how I might escape a large police dragnet that was probably happening at that very moment. After I got home I told no one about any of it. Not friend nor family, nor did I call the police.
A month or so passes...
...
I became lucid after the filmed gang rape. Happy go fun time (or the you deserve it hour depending on what type of... cop you're talking to) if you are a Uniformed Bay City Michigan... cop.
To make the story short Duh Jerk told me the guy was going to be severely punished by the gang. Decades in prison awaited him both for what he'd done & for his failure to kill me like he'd promised.
The guy agreed to kill me with a very formidable knife.
Dirty Cop & the 4 Stars & the army of Jocks surrounded us in a circle & they said let the battle commence.
Me? I tried to reason with the guy. He knew I was innocent. This was wrong. It's only trivia to add that the memory is beginning to have gaps, starting to break up.
He retorted that he didn't know 100% if I was innocent. Plus, it didn't matter. Now my killing was for revenge for his lost eye.
I tried to reason with him. I explained that I whupped him when he had a gun & two eyes. Now all he had was a knife & one eye. I pointed to the missing eye & explained that I was already going to switch to a southpaw fighter. If he fought me I'd poke out the other eye.
We stood there while he tried to gather his courage. Then he folded & announced he didn't have the guts to fight me.
Duh Jerk told him that meant his punishment would be even worse now.
He looked down, ashamed & said. "I know".
I recall fighting the room full of Jocks doing as much damage as I could based on the fact that I figured they were going to kill me anyway.
Later I talked to a more talkative gang member . A "Sent Snitch" in my opinion as, because like always (except the 1 time), the conversation was unsolicited, told me. "We had you". He bragged/whined that the gang figured it was a no-lose scenario for them. Either I'd die in a way no jury would ever connect to the gang or they had their corrupt witnesses standing by with the pistol evidence able to take me down for a lifetime of crimes as soon as I went to the cops with the pistol. Win/win no matter what. He said spies watched from afar but had no way to report my leaving (they are very hands off in their plans, ensuring protection from prosecution & insulating themselves from all such crimes). He claimed Dirty Cop was nearby waiting to move in but there were no gunshots so he stayed where he was until I was long gone. They tried to take me down with a massive police manhunt looking for my description but it'd fail to catch me. Mystifying because the gang had called out their available army, a ton of their member/victims & victim/members who lived in Bay City's West Side & they watched the bridges & the roads out of town & no one saw me. He asked me how I eluded the manhunt?
Moving on... he said the reason they didn't go to the police with my identity was because the guy had simply up & left after he saw I was gone. The plan had been Dirty Cop would arrest him or I, depending on which lived when he heard the gunshots. He'd never heard gunshots. They had no idea who the guy might've talked to or where he was? That made going to the police with my identity too risky. Later the guy admitted he'd went back to his family & they asked him about his eye & he broke down & told them about me. But allegedly not everything.
To God be the Glory. I am not now nor was I ever strong or clever enough to have lived through everything that the gang has thrown at me.
This is true to the best of my ability. Again to God be the Glory! Amen.
What???
The date is 9-14-23. I sat down to write some tale that popped into my reccolection. THe memory having congealed sufficiently to inspire me to write it. Then, I lost my train of thought & poof! It's 1116 hours & I forgot what it was? I'm drawing a complete blank here.
It's only trivia to add I went to bed about 0130 or so. I awoke at about 0230 & had already been injected in the back corners of my jaw... again.
My rectum hurts.
What? I mean... whatever...
"Because no one would do that".
Battlecry of the gang when accused & of the Lazy, Idiot, & Dirty... cops alike.
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AGAIN! Not my fault! The Wix Spell-checker is malfunctiooning & I'm not feeling like importing & exporting for the luxury of a spell-checking. THe writing of the story just took too much out of me.
If you got a problem with the spelling complain to Wix.
------------>>>
AGAIN! Not my fault! The Wix Spell-checker is malfunctiooning & I'm not feeling like importing & exporting for the luxury of a spell-checking. THe writing of the story just took too much out of me.
If you got a problem with the spelling complain to Wix.
------------>>>
AGAIN! Not my fault! The Wix Spell-checker is malfunctioning & I'm not feeling like importing & exporting for the luxury of a spell-checking. The writing of the story just took too much out of me.
If you got a problem with the spelling complain to Wix.
--------------------->>>
My Cousin teased me that I'd fought more pit fights there on the concrete slab neighboring My Mother's Parent's place in the Back Yard than I knew. He said since I'd won many of the fights in less than 15 minutes he just used the date rape drug on me, erasing my memory of the fights. Often on the other guys too, so he didn't have to pay them. Remarking he actually liked to use big foes against me. You see Reader, his logic was I was a child & fought most children using the Marcus of Queensbury Rules enforced by my family. When fighting a giant Jock Teen or adult all bets were off & I fought to kill... and he liked it. "You've made me a lot of money out here & you don't even know it".
For the record, I never got a penny. My Cousin even made it a point to steal from me during some fights just to prove how evil he could be top his pals & the obligatory Uniformed Michigan State Troopers who were often there acting as guards.
Alpha Bits Gambit follow-up...
I recall My Cousin bragging about his frequent visits to my home. I was almost never there, well, not undrugged. Searching my possessions for any advantage. he bragged. He boasted he liked to wander my room, like he did many of his victims & when he did he always made it a point to steal small, personal items. He always took a a few of my pens & pencils. He asked me. "Do you ever remember ripping one of your school notebooks"?
I told him. "Once".
He submitted that as proof he was the one ripping them, slowly at 1st. "I don't want you having anything nice". He stole my money, wrecked small things, stole others. "I like to search my victim's belongings regularly". He said it was to find any drugs or contraband so he could create incidents & his dirty... cops could zero in on the victim's hiding spots.
He said he emptied out food bottles, sugar containers, cereal boxes, milk & such. He liked to pop my bicycle tires often. He bragged he liked to rip up my shoes & steal my hats, gloves, & scarves. Telling me it amused him & went to school freezing wet most winter days & always we because he stole my raincoats & umbrellas.
I asked him if that was true he raided our food why didn't he empty our mustard ketchup & butter containers?
He said. "Because I know your Mother leaves them out for months or years & it amuses me that you could get sick. If I emptied those things they'd be replaced often & would be new". He teased me we never had butter, only margarine & having cheap food out on display on our table amused him. Particularly if full of breadcrumbs & assorted debris like ours usually was.
I also note that he said. "Did you ever notice that you use your tape once or twice & then it's all used up? I do that".
WHEN... COPS & THE GANG AGREE...
The... cOPS tell me they don't like the gang, nor agree with them. Then, often with the same breath defend the gang. You see Reader both groups expect you to treat the gang with kid gloves. With a certain kindness & fondness for pressing 2 buttons on a phone, the "9" button & the "1" button, sometimes twice. Defending yourself, especially against children (who may be in actual mid-torture, literally as the literal TORMENTORS) as morally wrong.
"So what you're saying is because kids are involved I should just lay down like a dog & die Officer"?
"No! That's not what I'm saying". I've heard. Then they spend the next 1/2 hour saying tapping 2 buttons on a phone should be the extent of my self-defense. I should call them 1st.
"So lay down & die or beg the child-molesters for mercy are my only options? I'm not going to let them torture me just because they use kids".
"You should've called us 1st".
"Uhhh... I've tried that Officer. You guys didn't help". "Besides. when they were torturing me I didn't see a phone & they wouldn't let me use one".
Moral of the story? When the gang and the... cOPS agree, you're in a lot of trouble.
INSTRUCTIONS:
HOW TO BREAK A DIRTY... COP'S NECK:
1) Grab the head firmly. It's best to pin the body as turning the neck itself often causes the recipient to turn in place to avoid injury. A waste of both of your time.
2) Twist firmly in a circular direction.
3) CARRY THROUGH! In the past I had a problem where I stopped when the target quit resisting or when a loud K-K-K-K-K-KRACK sound happened. This caused many targets to jump up after I released them & mock me. You must keep twisting violently until well after 180 degrees of rotation.
4) You can use the time you are rotating the neck after the cracking noise subsides to threaten or explain to other criminal coconspirators why you're doing what you're doing & why that is important to them. Be it because you want them to modify their illegal behavior or to explain to them, they are next!
Enjoy! I didn't. :(
THE HOLY OF HOLIES EPILOGUE...
I came too in what Duh Jerk had bragged was The Killing Room of the Holy of Holies of the gang. The room had a desk, chair, & computer all strapped to the floor. The computer was bolted to the table & everything but the screen was covered in a thick wire mesh. There was a large walk-in closet in the room, or a large alcove that had a glass door & a glass wall. In side there was straps on the floor obviously designed to restrain someone in the laying position on the floor. The room had a single formidable metal door & to the left of that was the alcove & to it's left was a room filled with aquarium tanks on shelves stacked to the ceiling filled with rather large cockroaches. Maybe less than 20-50 in each tank. The whole room was painted white & as spotlessly clean as it was when I was there a few months ago.
Duh Jerk was busy running the gang in a huddle, about 8 or so guys & children around him taking orders & talking.
I was being restrained by some huge Jocks & was cuffed behind my back.
When I awoke the Jocks said. "He's awake".
All attention turned to me.
Me? I expected the worst.
Smiling, Duh Jerk congratulated me on my escape. Claiming escapes from such rooms had happened in the gang's history but were a once in a century occurrence, a real 1 in a million. He bragged that he wanted to show me the room where I would one day die, decades from now. He claimed "The Bosses", guys who run the gang much higher up the food chain than he, had ordered I be stalked for life as revenge for my escape from the room. They'd given him orders I not be killed until I was old. He said this was how I'd die. That they'd inject poison into me once the Police had given up on me & that poison would make me a diabetic (as My Cousin had decreed he'd ordered decades before). Then I'd seem to be unresponsive to medication, or they'd kidnap me &say I refused my meds, or they'd just force some unlucky pharmacist to give me a placebo while they kept poisoning me. In any event my arms & legs would wither & be amputated. Then I'd die in this very room & there would be no 1 in a million escape for me then.
Then he told me he wanted to show me something. We walked down that long hallway to the hall where he had the 4-6 deep mounted standing skeletons on the south wall there at the bend where one could see the steps leading up. We, the army & I stopped at the spot where I'd felt up that skeleton to see if it was real. Duh jerk proudly announced that these were his victims, maybe 100, probably less than 200. His trophies. He pointed to the empty spot next to where I'd touched that skeleton & said that was where he'd put my skeleton. That I'd be dismembered for years before I died providing for an agonizing death & that he'd go to great lengths to acquire my severed limbs & reunite my skeleton there. "I'll come by and talk to you now & then". He bragged smiling. A ritual he said he did with all his victims.
Incredibly I said I thought that if the skeletons were real, that I doubted he recalled every single person & chatted with all of them individually.
He told me I was right. A few he'd forgotten the names of & really didn't chat with them anymore. But he'd remember me. It was all revenge for "The Gym" as far as he was concerned..
He just wanted me to know.
It's only trivia to add that decades later I am in fact being poisoned... slowly.
It's only trivia to add that the gang tried to give me a gun & a hand-grenade in Annapolis MD & convince me to do a mass-shooting... "for fun".
It's only trivia to add that a week later there was a mass-shooting in Annapolis MD where the "brave" Officer took down a mass-shooter by "allegedly" counting his bullets & shooting him to death while he reloaded.
It's only trivia to add that soon a "snitch" told me that the gang had arranged a "Tribute Killing" at a place called Thousand Oaks where the gunman allegedly used the same or similar tactics.
It's only trivia to add that I'm in pain...
If you're reading this & wont help me would you at least pray for me? Please?
​
​
...
Sooooooo... there I was. I escaped from a gang safehouse in the 80s. I was covered in blood. The memories are fragmented, I tried my best to fight my way out of there & I did. In the past I might write things like, we fought, I won. BUt in my opinion nobody won. A lot of people lost. SOme lost everything.
I recall listening to the car loads of Jocks being given orders to fan out & find me from my hidden location, still trying to recuperate from the exhausting knock down dragg'em out fight I barel walked away from a gasping wreck. I saw the unifromed Dirty Cop himself &his marked tax-payer-funded patrol car helping to coordinate the manhunt. I overheard him saying he was calling in a police manhunt to aid him.
Figfhting the exhaustion, the drugs, & the deprivation I assessed the situation before me. I was covered in blood & teetering o0n the edge of lucid sanity. I was seriously addled by the drugs at that time. It made it hard to concentrate. Where in Bay City I escaped from I don't know... this time. Only that I was now in Bay City's South-End close to where I grew up. I was covered in dripping & spattered blood head to toe. My clothes somewhat torn, not much & a gang of young men were looking for me & it was likely a massive police manhunt was searching for me... again. So I decided to evade the police using za well-established set of rules & tricks that'd served me well my entire life. The main problem would be avoiding the gang. It occured to me that I had to get this blood off me. But how? I resolved to walk to a south-end gas station & wash up. But I'd look for garden hoses in yards 1st to get clean.
This one Jock... I recovered & through the drug haze & was stumbling to the service station. This Jock walks up. He uses gang tactic #1. "Are you okay? Do you need any help"? It's more effective than you think Reader & they've led me willingly back to ambush more times than I ever escaped by far. Oddly, when I complained about it... cops told me no one's that stupid & would fall for that. Thus I was a liar by deduction. Me? I told them the tactic works great on my & is in fact not stupid. Usually...
This Jock persists. He follows me as I walk. He's a concenred citizen. He wants to help. He's belligerant.
Me? I try time & again to tell him no. I ask him over & over to leave me alone.
He refuses. He tries to grab me. He tells his partner to go get the rest of the gang while he grabs me.
I fought him off.
He pushes. Alternating between. "Do you need any help"? And trying to grab me.
As soon as his partner drove out of sight I turned on foot between 2 buildings where no one could see us. There after the last time I all but begged him to leave me alone. Tried to reason with him I wasn't worth it. I didn't want to hurt him.
SO I did my best to kill him. There, between the buildings. DId he die? DId anyone die earlier? Idano? I didn't conduct any autopsys & am not qualified to do so if I wanted to.
I washed up a lot using a garden hose in someone's yard.
I went to the gas station, they were alarmed but bought my story & let me clean up.
By then the drugs were wearing off a little. A few cups of coffee, soda, Caffiene of some sort & I was... lucid. I'd cleaned up, washed my clothes in the sink & was wet but passable in public. I did what I usually did to avoid giant manhunts
I enquired about the time & believe it or not I had an appointment to referee a AD&D game. So I did what I usually did to avoid giant manhunts & went to the game. Unusual only in that I chose to not go home (lest the gang require me there) & showed up ready to lead a large game with zero materials to do so.
Decades later the Last Snitch brought it up. Telling me he was involved in the manhunt to recapture me (and said it's main focus was to guard my place on Michigan St. to recapture me but I didn't come home for days). He complained that they'd spent a fortune, used tremendous assettes & manpower to recapture me both gang & police force personel. Later they asked me how I escaped & were outraged at how easy I'd done so. They thought to go to the police to avenge their dead & injured comrades at the safe house. The theory being that they'd ask witnesses & note my jittery & odd behavior as evidence for their dirty... cop.
The Last Snitch was furious with me & yelled. "BUT NO! NOT YOU! YOU JUST KILLED A ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE CLEANED UP IN SOME GAS STATION & WENT ABOUT GAMING & DOING WHAT YOU NORMALLY DO"! He said they figured they'd steal the bloody clothes when I got home but I'd gotten rid of them before I got home & disposed of the evidence. Calmly. Calmly & he hated me for it because in the end, seeking his level of absolute perfection & quality control in framing, he said Duh Jerk & The Bosses chose to not pursue charges against me because there simply was no case. Not even odd behavior. "EVERYBODY ELSE GOES TO THE COPS! NORMAL PEOPLE GO TO THE COPS WHEN THEY GET KIDNAPPED & KILL A ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE! BUT NO! NOT YOU! YOU KILL A ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE & GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS & PLAY YOUR GAMES LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED"! He was furious that his superiors choose to adopt a "we'll get him next time" attitude. Those were his friends. Co-workers who meant something to him, if only in a small way who died.
I ask the Reader this. What do you say to that?
Maybe I'll spell check this one day, maybe not. Do any good Police read it anyway?
If I had to write this a dozen times it'd be different every time. Why? It's one of those stories I whine about, fragmented memories that aren't available at all times. Difficult to recall. I wrote it in brief, it's not something I relish rehashing, so I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
Whatever...
​
... Epilogue
Back in the day it wasn't unusual for a self-professed "Snitch" to be sent to debrief me twice. Sometime it'd be 2 different guys, sometimes it's be 2 different guys & they'd have a "the last guy was killed, so I'm here" & alternated between wanting to be my friend or there as a vigilante who wants to team up with me to take Duh Jerk down as revenge (by far the most common "Snitch" claim).
After that above a guy showed up & was one of the few noting he'd been sent. He whined about the dead, that I'd killed them all & in a very horrible way too.
Me? I protested. While I hadn't done any autopsy's I told him. "I figured that one guy would live. He wasn't wounded that bad & I told him if he laid down & faced the wall I'd let him live". The man had begged for mercy. Not being a hypocrite, I gave it.
"He did live. But with how bad you messed up his face & the other guy who lived it was decided to just withhold medical attention & let them die".
I complained. Me. This guy was complaining about the dead & he was part of the group that just let his partners in crime die? "Slowly"?
He said they didn't last but a few hours. He did feel bad about it, meaning he & the gang hated me all the more for it.
The 1st "Snitch" mentioned the details of the case & tried to discuss them in great detail. I told him a bit while keeping in mind my childhood plan of an interrogative conversation that future authorities would demand (that I should've mentioned much more before now). I figured he was there to pick at the forensic evidence to glean clues to use against me. So I sparingly talked about the case's many tiny clues.
He dedicated a lot of his face time with me to how I cleaned up. Where had I cleaned up? When the gang figured out where I was days afterwards where were the bloody clothes? He said they used their dirty cops & break-ins (using children) to go from house to house, place to place taking apart drains to get genetic evidence that could tie me to the killings. Not a single place they allegedly checked netted a single clue. He asked me outright where I cleaned up at? How'd I avoid both the police AND gang manhunts? It seemed impossible. Most he picked at, where were the bloody clothes?
Me? I wanted an interrogative story, but there were a lot of things about that case I wasn't discussing with him.
Ultimately he did ask me why I hadn't gone to the... cops?
Truth be told I'm not filled with the hutzpah to deal with a full-blown... cop interrogation/illegal threateningfest at all times. When that guy told me the time & I realized that I could just go play a few games, smoke some pot, & relax from the ordeal I'd just endured. The temptation was too great.
Besides, the reason I was being kept in that safe house & being slapfest sleep deprived was because the gang had just shot a bunch of child-porn with me & got me to kill people Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars were bragging that this was the time they'd take me down & get me as their final revenge for... "The Gym". If I'd gone to the... cops I'd have had to deal with their illegal threats to my health, life, & freedom plus the 1st framing, all the other framings, AND all the people who died in the safehouse... & I was pretty sure at least the one guy had lived. While he agreed to leave me alone I doubted he would if the way the rest of the gang treats me is an indicator of how he'd act?
So I just went straight to cover-up mode. Plotted to get rid of all the evidence as sneaky as possible, and went & played some Dungeons & Dragons.
Imagine my surprise when The Last Snitch brought it up in detail decades later? He too tried to pick my brain over the subject.
Was it a good plan? Probably not? But it is what happened.
​
​
​
IN THE NAVY... Yeah...
Sooooo... the "snitch" bragged that Duh Jerk had followed me around my entire naval career. He submitted as proof that I kept bumping into Duh Jerk as I traveled the country at various commands. That and several people, mostly higher ranking than I, told me they saw him.
He bragged they'd influenced a ton of guys to destroy my naval career. Pointing to points in my career where leaders came down on me for no reason or told me it was because my high school councilor came by & told them "what a scumbag I really was".
Here I'll talk about the navy. Some good, some bad, some about the gang, some that has nothing to do with the gang. Like this one I'll start with.
​
Sooooo... there I was, hard at work again onboard the USS Concord AFS-5. ship I was part of the crew on. The Captain walks up & tells me to do something. As an E-3 I found it strange that the O-6 Captain often sought me out personally & told me to do this, that, & the other thing. From what I knew of how chain of command works (in theory) this just... "wasn't right".
Well, the Captain was yelling as he told me what to do. Not unusual at all in my opinion. What task? Load or unload cargo. We were on a cargo ship. It's what we did... in theory.
After a minute or 2 of yelling the Captain stopped. Then, out of character he softened & asked me a question. "Do you know why I give you all the crap jobs"?
I pondered his questions & could think of no answer that'd be good for me. I answered him. "No".
"Because when I tell other people on the ship to do something nothing gets done or it takes a long time. When I tell you to do something it gets done". He explained, after a long time of the worst jobs on the ship his reasoning was that because I was dilligent, I had become a go to guy. The guy who gets the jobs no one else wants to do done.
He didn't cheer me up much. But it did explain things.
Sigh...
​
​
I had been gone a while & when I stood at morning muster one of the lazier guys I worked with expressed gladness I was finally back. It seems he was part of a large team who's sole job was doing my job & it took them all day & was regarded as grueling & almost a punishment because it was so exhausting. In front of the entire unit he exclaimed. "I'm glad you finally came back! It took 5 guys to do your job"! He could finally go back to being lazy & his team was glad for it.
I asked my superiors if I might keep 4 of them guys. After all they knew my job well & had already been doing it. They turned me down. Later when I lowered the bidding to gimmie just one of them guys the higher ups turned me down there too.
Sigh...
​
​
FROGGY WENT TO COURT & HE DID... die...
Sooooo... I was about age 8 or 9 when I came home from school to feed my pets. I had an aquarium that I'd tipped up on an angle & filled with some gravel & water & about 100 tadpoles I'd found. I never meant to keep any of them, I just wanted to watch them transform from tadpoles to toads for the purely scientific curiosity of the subject. Nothing more.
I was saddened to see them all dead. Choked by a serious overfeeding. I asked my family why they did that & Serial Rapist told me he'd done it to feed the fish. It seems he was called home early for some reason from school that day & just wanted to feed them & killed them all.
Me? My opinion? I wasn't happy but the fact I never intended to keep them softened the blow. Plus, there'd been thousands of eggs where I'd harvested the hundred so I cleaned the tank out & got another hundred. No big deal.
Imagine my surprise when we went to the next Grande Party & My Cousin asked me how I was taking the death of 100 pets?
Meh, I'd lost an entire aquarium before, Serial Rapist had slain all my pet turtles, my fish, & even my seamonkeys. Not at once, but over time. There was nothing I could do about it. Me causing an Ouchy on a pet or being attacked by Tiny meant instant & lengthy epic pain-fests at my place. The mass-slaying of my pets by Serial Rapist was just too bad for me. My opinion was usually the same. Whatever...
My Cousin smiled & mocked me when he bragged he'd slain my pets. 100 or so at once sounded like good fun to him. But he needed a scapegoat so he had My Mother summon him from school early to get him to go out stealing & while she called he dumped the tadpole's fishfood into the tank, killing them all.
WHen I asked he said it was just to be mean. Then he told me it was he who'd killed my pet turtles 1 at a time, killed the aquarium fish.
I asked him why & he said it was just to be mean. Nothing more.
My attitude was like unto. Whatever... can I go now?
He told me his goal at this time was to provoke me into attacking him for the hidden camera. He was really disappointed I hadn't attacked him, apparently the death of a lifetime of pets was enough to make even the most calm & law-abiding victims of his attack. Then the giant army of Jocks he was summoning to prove he could would rush in & protect the old man, cheerfully beating their victims to a pulp. There would be no trial as his victims would not want to confront him in court. Allowing him to cripple just about anyone he wanted. Especially "The Kids Anyone Can Hit".
"Why aren't you mad"? He asked noting he'd be furious with me.
I pointed out the turtled died about 5 years ago, I was over them, the fish last year, & the tadpoles were just a science experiment to me. Nothing more.
Like a good Bay CIty... cOP he called me a liar. Of course it hurt. I loved those tadpoles & rushed home all the time to see them whenever I left.
I told him that was true. I was keeping an eye on them because I'd done the experiment before & there's a very narrow window when they transform from a fish to an amphibian & I'd missed it the last time I tried the experiment. So I resolved to be more diligent watching them this time. I told him I had no intention of keeping any of them.
Like a good Bay CIty... cOP he called me a liar... again. "You're lying. You loved them tadpoles & I hurt you. You just don't want to show weakness".
Me? I said if I had loved them I would've said it. They didn't call me The Good Kid everywhere I went for no reason.
He said the pictures he took of the dead tadpoles would make for great evidence against me in court one day.
Me? I told him that was stupid. If only because I was just a kid & kids make stupid mistakes like overfeeding their fish. If I did such a thing I'd admit it, kids do stuff like that. It wouldn't prove anything I was scared of in court.
He disagreed. It'd be sweet evidence I was a madman, proof of great evil intent on my part.
Whatever...
The gang has repeatedly told me they will kill or steal my every pet. "Your dog is in a good child-molester home now". "Your cat is in a good child-molester home now". "We killed your plants by wrecking your furnace when you left". "We poisoned your garden. Why do you think you're wife & her kids wouldn't eat anything you picked from the garden"? That's just some of the things I've heard.
One day I came home next to Bay City's Mr. Hot Dogs in the Southend & there was a dog in my house. A medium-sized mutt the neighborhood called "The Mexican Drug Dog". Apparently my Neighbor in the Trailer Park had gifted My New Wife with it.
The dog was widely regarded as untrainable, not house-broken, incorrigible, undisciplined, & barked at all hours of the night without ceasing. I wanted nothing to do with it but My New Wife said she wanted it & that was that.
After paying for shots, vet bills, license,, and assorted pet things I looked at the dog I didn't like as a cash investment of sorts & figured that now that we'd blown big money on it, it may as well get housebroken & I resolved to train it as best I could.
The sent Mouthpiece came to brag, noting he'd waited until they saw I was alone at home & pointed to a bus full of jocks there to protect him with the... cops just around the corner with an ambulance for if I should attack. He seemed nervous to me. I listened.
"We stole your dog". he said.
Me? The dog I wanted to get rid of from day 1? I tried to contain my smile, lest they return the animal.
He said they were just going to kill it when My Neighbor complained the dog was now well-trained. Knew over 32 tricks, was housebroken & didn't bark, as much as before (I never could get it to quit barking when I left). He wanted the dog back.
So Duh Jerk ordered me arrested, drugged, then they had the dog rape me, on film, & there Duh Jerk personally handed back the dog to my former neighbor. "You witnessed his wedding on film. Now the cops will never believe your accusations".
I said true, I had seen it, only because I was there when he came walking into the building and asked to be married. He said I signed his marriage certificate.
I told him I hadn't. But I had seen the simple impromptu ceremony because I was running an RPG game at that spot when he showed up.
The Mouthpiece said the former Neighbor screwed up, he was supposed to get me to sign the document.
I told him I wouldn't have. I just didn't like him enough, no other reason.
Then the Mouthpiece said the gang would likely drug me & hold another filmed ceremony & get me to sign that Certificate.
I noted it made everything to date a waste.
Of course, another snitch came to warn me it'd all been a set0up to anger me into attacking the mouthpiece, or the neighbor who was well-guarded for a long time afterwards, or to hunt down Duh Jerk.
I noted my religion forbids vengeance. Vengeance is mine I shall repay saith the Lord. There's not much I can do about any of it unless the Lord avenges me, I catch them in the act, or The... cops get involved (I wouldn't hold my hand on my rear if I was you Reader, not in mid-Michigan in any event, it might grow there).
What was the last one? Oh yeah, "We stole your cat". He claimed the cat had been chosen because they knew I was looking for a mouser & that cat had serious emotional damage (it did, it hated all men, due to some past brutality, but me, eventually). He noted I'd overcame the demented torture damage done to the cat & trained a fine pet capable of many tricks & much affection (to women only, he still would allow no male except me near him last I saw him). "Jerk wants you to know he's living in a good child-molester home now".
Just another weirdism brought to you by madmen. Nothing more. In life I find it best not to get attached to any pets. Or even to most people. It's better that way. The gang brags it's exactly why they do what they do. To emotionally isolate a victim. To remove everything they love. To destroy anyone or any pet that might protect or love them from their lives. The fact I provide awesome pets suitable for them to gift their incoming children to be molested is just a big bonus.
I dedicate this tale to the Bay City Police's Leaders. Thanks guys. It's law-enforcement excellence like yours that's made my website possible. No need to thank me for the dedication & please don't send me any money. Just knowing you're out there doing what you do best is reward enough for me. GULP!
Just another wierdism... a true story, nothing more.
Whatever...
​
​
THE Alpha-Bits GAMBIT... The truth IS stranger than fiction... and unexaggerated...
Soooooo... There I was, at one of The Grande Partys at My Mother's Parent's place. I think it was Circa 1979ish or so. I recall it being during a week where there were a lot more people attending the parties & this week may have been the record in number of attendees who were repeat guests. A fancy way of saying the crowd was pretty much the same from day to day for some reason? Not too unusual, but rare. The Grande Partys were basically My Mother's Parent's house & yard plus the neighboring houses on each side. The insides were all quite packed as was the back yard with adults & children.
As always the alcohol flowed freely as did the drugs & cigarettes & fun was on the menu.
Me? I didn't drink, smoke, or willingly do drugs at all. No not even experimented with.
There were few rules, they frowned on uninvited guests & the main rule was to not talk to me. Exceptions being to call me names, frame me for whatsoever amused anyone (& I did bring them parties much amusement) based on the gauntlets they could soon enjoy enmass, & the most important rule. No talking to me nor playing with me. Picture long lines of 1-20 children & teens all on their knees facing the wall with their hands behind their heads being beaten by teens & adults for a moment's lapse in posture, or for a quick glance around. It didn't look like fun to me. THey were made to kneel like that in the wet grass facung the wall for hours. Why? FOr the crime of talking to me. FOr the crime of playiong... with me.
Truth be told adults could talk to me, but only during scripted & filmed events & if they needed anything. In which case I was the party go to guy. Many noted they hated me but wanted me to get their stuff from the store because the other kids in attendence either stole everything not nailed down or had to be paid big money to bring stuff back in any speeedy fashion. Tipping me was an extreme punishment & never happened once. Though I did endure many epic pain sessions while they debated if I stole. The pain being dealt out the entire investigation (I was found innocent in the end every single time BTW).
My COusin told me it was because he hated Christians. & they were all devil-worshippers. "I don't want my young stock being sullied by hanging around you". Was a common answer as to why they were being punished.
I suspect the above was not conducive to the foundations of a ffreindly relationship?
That was my childhood. I know, I know, as a mid-Michiagn... cop you are enraged, you need to hurt someone, please don't hurt me... again?
I'm not sure the above was the cause of my next point or not, I was just painting the scene of what it was like.
Soooo... there I was, having fun at the party when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a gang of about 10 or less teens & children coming across the party for me. Me? I readied for confrontation & wouldn't let them surround me no matter what. WHen they attacked I ran.
When surrounded by my family if I was attacked it meant a gauntlet. Period! Just about always. My Mother would be furious! "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MAKE THEM NICE KIDS ATTACK YOU"!?!?!?! She demanded.
I answered truthfully. "Nothing".
Now I would endure a lengthy & painful interrogation, like usual, for both my lies & for what I did to those nice kids. What lies? Well, the lies of saying I'd done nothing to them. The Gauntlets being brutal as normal I'd suppose.
The kids came back again & again as the day went on. At times aided by some of the adults who'd try to distract me for them & I narrowly avoided being jumped time & again. Made doubly dangerous by the need to try my best to make sure none of my family witnessed anything. Lest my gauntlet be assured & doubly painful.
A few of them promised me great pain, others promised to beat me down & hospitalize me. At times at the end of the day we played a chess match of them trying to surround me & me manuvering around the patty making sure they never got a large number of assailants around me. They even called the Police on me at one point.
At the end of the day My Cousin asked me why they were attacking me?
I told him I had no idea.
My Cousin told me he had a theory. "I ordered them to attack you". He said it'd been brought to his attention that all of his other "Kids Anyone Can Hit" had public beatdowns. Public scenes where they were beat down & hospitalized by a large group of children. Making them easy victims for the gang for months (as they keep rebreaking the limbs for extra cruelty) & making for a horrific beginning to their coming school year. WHere in multiple casts they faced their peers & all the violence the gang's gossip machine could inspire on them. He bragged many committed suicide & thus removed the burden of getting rid of them from him. Now I was next! As proof of his power he said he'd assemble the team & himself to wave me off when I left that day.
He also bragged the team didn't know it but they were filmed & it was likely a few would go to jail. He'd bail them out & his school teachers he owned would be in court bragging on how good of a children they were during the coming trial. I'd be crippled, they'd be lucky to get a slap on the wrist & all of their insults that they'd use to justify attacking me would be made "public record" in court. Win/win. Game over. Checkmate.
As the party progressed in time I was told by someone that My Mother had summoned me & it was time to leave. It was a dangerous thing. WHy? Because in my world I was expected to obey any & all commmands that allegedly came from her no matter who said them. My worst enemies, people I'd never met? It mattered not. I recall poking my head around the garage very slowly, expecting attack was at least possible/
My Cousin & his entire gang of attackers waved goodbye to me with huge smiles when I left the back yard for the front where the family car was parked.
My Cousin was in your face to me when I was summoned to leave at the end of the day. "See you tomorrow". He'd never bid me farewell before then.
Me? I begged My Mother to consider my situation but that merited only more punishment & threats.
Yreah, I prayed all the time back then for strength & good plans. Here's what happened.
We went shopping. It was a custom of My Mother's to occasionally buy a cereal or snack one of us might like on rare occasions & I hadn't asked in years. I saw a brand of cereal there called Alpha-Bits (all though I could'a swore it was... Honeycomb creael, oh well, the type is irrelevent) & recalled a recent commercial with a spy glasses prize inside the box. I hatched a plan.
I asked My Mother (honor honor honor) to buy them for me & she initially refused but caved in after much coaxing. She gave me one condition though. I couldn't touch the prize until the contents of the box were gone.
Me? I knew My Bro would never obey any such restriction & made it a point to take everything he could in our lives.
So when we got home I ate the box's contents & took the glasses for my own.
At our arrival at the party I was teased for my toy glasses. I retroted I was just a little kid & that's what kids do, wear toy glasses. Then I went abou setting myself up & watched.
Time & again I left my rear open & the gang massed & plotted & planned & distracted & rushed & ran, & hid & tied dirty tricks to surround me & attacked me from the rear & I played like it was just dumb luck that saved the day (it was God, to God be the glory, I was never smart, fast, or clever enough on my own to have survived that fateful day).
My Cousin became furious at the end of the day & it was rare on rare that he planned with or berated his crews in front of me. In anger he issued them an ultimatum. Now way too many people had seen the goings on in the backyard. Neighbors had complained. The cops were involved & he didn't like it. He demanded answers!
They complained it was dumb luck. It was pre-teen children who asked that the adults hobble me, break a leg or arm or 2 so they could have an easy time with me, like they normally did whenever the group of pros had a problem?
"My Cousin" furiously said the time for that had passed because they'd assured him they'd get me today. "I'm going to let you have a few more tries to beat him up & then I'm pulling the plug on this entire operation because way too many people know about what's going on here". He promised them epic punishments for their failure. "He's just one kid! What more do you need"?
The crew asked for a few more adults, to really cripple me. They'd managed to get in a few glancing blows & maybe an adult glancing blow would make a difference.
My Cousin agreed to their terms and few adults were added to their team with instructions to guard likely choke points & attack me only when I passed them & accuse me of rudely attacking them at the party, they were only defending themselves & the small children who would be positioned next to them at key points. Each was instructed to act like I attacked them if I even casually brushed against them, justifying the full force of the combined adults subduing me in front of any witnesses.
How'd it go? The gang set up before my eyes & My Cousin ordered My Mother (Honor honor honor) to summon me into the midst of the Grande Party in the back yard so they could close the trap. Telling her to leave once I was inside the trap. They attacked at least twice more. In my opinion their reliance on the slow adults made it easier to avoid them.
My Cousin was very, very angry at the end of the day.
The next day My Cousin talked to me at the party again. He summoned me into the packed kitchen of my Mother's childhood home & wanted to talk to me in the midst of his officer.
In the past I've described Duh Jerk's Officers as mostly beautiful people. Men & teens, even boys all of whom would be considered handsome & usually innocent in looks (Duh Jerk's taste in "little boys & men" I'd suppose). Not so with My COusin's Officers. Oh, The Trio of Cousins were prettyboys, many a lil girl told me they thought they were very good looking. But My COusin's Officers? Picture a room of the scroungiest, gnarly, stereotypical child-molester-looking guys in their 40s-70s you could imagine. They just looked the part & I'm not being insulting here. Just factual.
My Cousin was furious with me for what I'd done. I'd avoided his Beatdown Crew & now he'd ordered them beat down. He & his guys said they wwere on drugs & got carried away, such was the urgency of My COsin's orders on their beatdowns. They beat them badly. Very badly. Crippkled & possibly maimed some. Lifelong injuries to others. I stood there while they planned their cover-up. My COusin complained they'd used "schoolbus crash too often lately as an excuse for the injured in large groups. They claimed in the end they'd chosen to use schoolbus crash to explain the many mangked bodies.
He said that left them with me. They all agreed they were sickened at how many people were busted up at this time & I'd gone unscathed save for a few bruises. Something had to be done... to me!
My Cousin demanded of me a question. My Parent's made it a rule years ago that I should obey My Cousin's every order & truthfully answer his every question. He spouted on & on about how outraged he was about my survival. About the many bodies he & his Officers had just busted up. And all over me... just some kid. He asked me what I thought was how I escaped being hurt? Some of his guys said I was getting help from someone in the crowd. Who was it? He wanted to know now & knew I'd tell him. Being that I was The Good Kid.
SO I gave him my truthfull opinion. "It was the spyglasses". The galsses I had on at that very moment. I explained what they did & how I was able to set the crew up so they'd attack from my rear.
My Cousin was livid! "ALL THOSE CHILDREN BUSTED UP?!?! & ALL OVER SOME KID'S TOY"?!?!?!? It pushed him over the edge. He threatened me & I stood my ground (as if I had a choice in the corner & all). We squared off & in the narrow confines of the room he backed down in front of his Officers.
The room was quiet for a time. Then they talked. They all agreed I had to be beatdown for this outrage. So in so many words they all voted & decided, while I stood in the corner, that they would ALL beat me up.
"My Cousin said. "Wait until I leave before you beat him up. Wait until I'm a good distance away before you do". Then he left.
The room was a sea of hate. They all agreed, I should be beaten.
Me? When the sound of My Cousin's car pulled away the crowd began what I'll call whipping itself into a battle frenzy. A few called me names. They expressed outrage at me. They all agreed that should beat me up... NOW!
Me? I figured I was most likely doomed. So I put on my best poker face & told them I knew they'd all seen "The Films". So they'd best not attack me.
"So what"? On of them said. "You're just a kid & we got you cornered".
I thought. Good assesment. With my best poker face I told them they'd probably beat me up, that was likely because I was just a kid. But I'd get whoever attacked me 1st.
I stood there a long time silently, they either (as the case may be) stood there still standing or sitting for a minute or 2. An epic long time BTW in such a situation. Some said things like. "Someone ought to attack him"! "Someone should start this"! Pointing out one Jock. "You're the toughest. You should start this & we'll all back you up".
The Jock declined.
Me? At a certain point I decided it was time to leave. So I did.
"Are we just going to let him leave"? "Do you know what they'll do to us if we just let him leave"? The room went stone cold silent at that point.
I left walking very slowly out, looking both ways very cautiously as I did. Making sure to not go inside the rest of the day. Even sitting in the rain for a time when my rules were that I couldn't leave the picnic table area.
Hours later the astonished "My Cousin" came back & was mad. He said it was because those Officers were his friends & now he had to go in there & punish his friends & all because of me... and some cheap stupid kid's toy. When he asked me where I got the glasses from & I told him it was from the bottom of a cereal box he blew a gasket.
Then he said that as proof of his power he'd order My Bro to destroy the glasses. Then wait a few days & have me broken at the next party in a few days. Then he went into the house to face his Officers.
As soon as we got home My Bro asked to play with the spyglasses. I refused & when My Mother demanded I hand them over I told her it was because he'd break them. She assured me he would not break them.
In a few minutes My Bro presented the spyglasses to me broken & told me he'd broken them. I accuse him of nothing.
Once out of sight I noticed the spyglasses would be repairable using clear tape & figured if I did it right you wouldn't even be able to tell they'd ever been broken. Then I hid them.
Once My Mother (I'll add in a few more honors here, honor honor honor) told me we were going to her Parent's (strange only in that as a rule she never told us where we were going, only that we were leaving).
Once we arrived My Cousin was there & with a huge smile, he & an even larger clean-faced & innocent-looking crew were there dressed in all new clothes as wholesomely dresses as was possible in the 70's. This time with more & bigger teens & the addition of a few 5- & 6-year-old girls, all innocent looking. They all smiled at me with the same smile the crew had smiled at me the other day when I was leaving the Grande Party.
Me? I put on my best poker face & pulled my now repaired spyglasses out of my breast pocket & smiled & waved myself.
My Cousin blew my mind when he got an exasperated look. He threw his arms up in the air & disbanded the Crew & told them to all go home
His new crew begged for permission to beat me up, some then & there while I complained to My Mother who'd called me a liar all the way to the party & for days & now had to confront this open conversation on beating me up & clearly for no reason. In my entire life I've only ever seen her at a losss for words a few times, a few times where sdhe didn't act like she had the moral high ground no matter what was happeneing & this was it. In my opinion she acted like she had no idea what to do & could nt accuse or self-righteously bully her way to a moral solution.
Later My Cousin demanded to know where I got the spyglasses. So I told him I'd repaired the old ones. In a fury he lamented what horrors he'd committed upong his friends because of me. Just some kid with broken toy glasses.
I had a way of ticking My Cousin off back in the day.
I could'a swore it was Honeycomb cereal. As if that makes a difference to the story?
A weirdism if there ever was a weirdism...
Whatever...
​
The Alpha-Bits Gambit Follow-up... the truth, the whole truth, & nothing but the truth...
So... it occurred to me on my way home after writing the above tale that I might've left stuff out, based on I figured it was irrelevant, nothing more. Thus in the spirit of the truth, the whole truth, & nothing but the truth I thought I'd follow up the above tale.
We'll pick up at the very moment I left My Mother's Parent's Kitchen. I was shocked to note that it'd started raining since we came inside & the party had come inside. The living room was fairly (not completely) packed, standing room only & filled here & there with The Crew. As I stepped into the Livingroom I turned to see the adult Crew & party goers packed the hall & presumably all the way around the corner if the noise was an indicator. My Mother & her Enforcer/Brother were among the room's occupants.
The room came to life behind me & I heard the noise of every chair move.
Me? I figure I had to get out of there. Or else. NOW! My intention was to walk out into the rain & stand by the street where I'd yell my head off in broad daylight if attacked.
My Mother stopped me. She demanded to know where I was going & why because it was raining?
I turned to face her standing at the front door. The kitchen was alive with men pointing at me with very angry looks looking like they were giving orders.
I told her I needed some air.
She told me I could go outside. But ONLY if I sat in the picnic area in the back yard next door. Where I'd fought many pit fights BTW Reader.
SO I went outside & sat there in the rain.
In a way I pondered letting the situation bum me out. But I took stock of the situation. I was alive & the rain was a gentle warm rain that took the edge off the heat of the day. One of those rains you might call romantic if you had someone to share it with. I just sat there pondering life, the universe, & who knows what else. Kid stuff.
In about an hour or 2 My Mother came outside & asked if I wanted to go inside? Why are you sitting out here in the rain.
Me? I said the house was packed & the rain was relaxing. I recall noting she'd discussed with me recently of romantic rainy walks & relaxing in the rain. Now I was doing it.
I asked her. "Do you need anything"? Was there some service I could provide? Was there a reason for me to go inside?
She said no. Disarmed by her own words she wandered off.
About a half-hour later My Mother's Parents, both of them came out using a giant umbrella. Extremely unusual on all levels. They said it was strange I was outside & invited me to come inside (I'll agree, I'd never sat outside in the rain like that before, willingly).
Me? I said I was enjoying the alone time. The house was crowded & it was nice to just sit outside & relax. I asked them if there was something I could do for them? Were they ordering me inside & they said no. Then they unceremoniously wandered back inside. It was almost surreal to me. They never did anything like that before or after that. They'd never shown the slightest inkling of care about me or what I did. Not if it meant walking across a room let alone walking outside & in the rain. When they said it was strange of me to sit in the rain I pointed out that they'd made my siblings & I sit out in the rain several times over the years, not as a punishment, but they said that since it was a warm rain we should go & play in the rain outside. At times we just sat there waiting for permission to go back inside. The only difference this time was I was sitting out there of my own free will. Disarmed by their own words & past treatment of me they turned around & walked back inside.
As a Reader you might wonder why I sat out there? Simply put I feared for my safety to go back inside where I'd be surrounded by so vast an army of hate. The people inside were not nice people & I suspected their hate, mixed with what might be desperation, might be an extremely dangerous place for me to be. ESPECIALLY when you considered I was just a kid & the place was packed. Cornering me where I had no room to maneuver would be easy & facing that many children, teens, & adults just wasn't something I wanted to do. Not with the anger & hate & desperation that filled the air in there.
So I sat out there. Every half hour or so I had been checking to see if the Officers & the Crew were still there by peeking inside & they were all still there. I judged it too dangerous to go inside. I kept a vigilant watch all about me, lest I be snuck up on again.
Soon My Cousin came outside. Since this was highly irregular he had my full attention. He too came out & noted it was strange I was sitting in the rain & softly asked if I wanted to come inside.
Me? A lil bit defensively I asked him. "Why? Are you ordering me inside". Being our usual relationship was exclusively him ordering me around.
He said no. He was just worried about me was all.
Me? I didn't buy it but saw no reason to escalate thing. So I politely refused to go inside.
Then the chat went sinister.
My Cousin thanked me for the great film opportunity. He asked me to note the camera team behind him & how he had his back to the camera so lip readers couldn't make out what he said but could make out what I said, allowing him to paint any narrative he wanted.
My attitude was like this. "Meh. Small potatoes". I told him I wasn't worried. He had a lot worse on me than me sitting alone in the rain.
Now he bragged my anti-social behavior he filmed would be my undoing. I'd gifted him with a great film & the family would help him sell the story in the rest of the film. I'll be an anti-social nut, sitting alone like a madman in the rain. So I'd better start obeying him in his evil enterprise. Or else!
Me? I told him that his film didn't scare me. I told him I was just a kid & sitting alone in the rain. It isn't insanity, it's just kid stuff. Kids do silly stuff.
He disagreed & said the films they'd made inside & the angles made me out to be a madman & I'd fallen for it all.
When he failed to provoke me he lamented he'd failed to provoke me. Then he softly turned around & went inside.
I sat out there for about 2-3 hours before I noticed the party ended & I went inside.
Just another tale of a typical American Boy's summer Circa 1979 I'd suppose? Typical Ameriana? I only ask because I have nothing to compare it to?
Sigh...
​
Whatever happened to the spyglasses you might wonder? In a few days they disappeared. My Cousin told me he'd ordered My Family to not buy another box of cereal with that prize inside it again.
My Cousin bragged he'd pre-ordered My Mother to sit outside the Kitchen in what was known as Her Father's Chair (it's trivia to add that the chair had been allegedly bought to replace the one I'd ruined by covering it with blood earlier BTW) & order me to sit in the neighboring back yard on the concrete slab in the picnic area if I tired to leave the party for any reason. He boasted that any films of me sitting there would invalidate any accusation I ever made that they held pit-fights there, on the slab. I told him I didn't see how me sitting there would invalidate anything but figured he was the expert in the situation, not me.
One of My Cousin's Lt's asked me to notice his Lt's had increased security now, a few more dedicated guards & some of them were quite huge.
I told him I really hadn't noticed & didn't care.
He called me a liar, that of course I'd noticed & I knew why too.
I told him I had no idea why they had increased security?
He kept calling me a liar, of course I knew why.
Ultimately, I asked him to pretend I had no idea why & just tell me why, for fun?
He said it was because when I was sitting at the picnic table in the backyard I got up and every half hour or so I looked through the windows inside, looking for weakness so I could beat the Lt's up. Being they only had the 1 Jock that day they spent hours terrified I was outside ready to beat them up. "Don't play innocent with me". They all knew I was hovering, plotting to attack. After what I'd gone through of course I was waiting for a moment's weakness to attack. In the end they'd all rushed out to their cars & fled after looking out every window, figuring out where I was, & running into the rain to their cars as a group & fled leaving a wall of The Crew to block me so they could escape. Ordering them to give their lives if need be to buy them time to escape. They'd all been humiliated in front of everyone at the Grande Party & in front of My Cousin & his Bosses by the event & now demanded extra protection from 9-year-old... me.
I told him I was just a kid, a Christian, & they'd attributed to me a desire for revenge they had in their hearts, that revenge was not my way because in my religion vengeance is God's to give, not mine. I didn't hate any of them & had no desire for revenge against any of them.
My Cousin's Officers disagreed with me. They weren't stupid, of course I wanted revenge. When I sat out there in the rain plotting revenge sitting on the picnic table & circled the house looking in the windows like I had with the grim look of determination they just knew I wanted revenge. They could tell I was just waiting for a moment's weakness to attack. Anyone would want revenge on them after how they treated me. From then on, their Jocks would come to alert whenever I was near & I wasn't fooling anyone with my innocent act the Lt's told me.
Whatever...
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.
<<<----------------
Yeah, I prayed... a lot!
One day soon, while chatting with me (I was the official gopher for supplies) My Cousin's "Officers" told me they'd come very close to serious punishment & hated me for it. Why? Because they felt it was because of me.
They claimed the Bosses & "My Cousin" got involved & they were about to hand down epic-level punishment in a warehouse (where such punishments often take place) for their incompetence. Add in that they'd ALL backed down from some little kid, when an entire packed room full of guys & jocks backed down from lil ole me? Bodies were going to be smashed. Horrors sure to scare Officers for years were about to happen.
Then a quick-thinking Lt. pointed out that "My Cousin" had backed down from me minutes before they did & that they were just following his example. It worked & they went unpunished.
"But we still hate you for it & we all voted that we wanted you to know that". In their words, as a group. I got lucky because the survivors surely would've avenged the damned.
Me? I pointed out. "So in a way you could say I saved all your lives by standing up to him couldn't you"?
They agreed. "But we all still hate you". They assured me with a room full of nods & statements to that fact.
<<<----------------
Yeah, I prayed... a lot!
<<<----------------------
My Cousin bragged he & my family, combined with his Officers had put together an impromptu framing film & based it on what would be my likely answers. That each person had questioned me things that fit some psychotic narritive they'd been playing out like theater & would later be very damning, especially in edited films for later consumption. "So you'd better go inside now".
Me? I told him I figured the damage was done. They already had their film if that was true & I wasn't falling for some trick to lure me inside. Besides, I was relaxing in the rain.
Leviticus 26:8 And five of you shall chase an hundred, and an hundred of you shall put ten thousand to flight: and your enemies shall fall before you by the sword.
- I didn't have 4 other guys with me & I was just a little kid, but the basic principle applies. To God be the glory.
Thanks God!
Alpha Bits Gambit Follow-up...
I recall looking down at those broken plastic toy glasses that could see to the rear. They were ill-fitting & would not stay on my face with only 1 arm. So I looked for some tape. When I found it the new tape roll had been emptied. All that was left was the small bit that remained on the roll that can't be pulled out normally.
When I tried to fix the glasses, the tape wouldn't stick. The cobble job repair I made was precarious at best. I figured the glasses might last 1, maybe 2 good runs before they fell apart. It was that flimsy of a repair job.
At the Grande Party I strained to not wreck the glasses when I put them on the 2nd time & smiled & put on my best poker face.
Later My Cousin noted I'd gone to the neighbors seeking tape, my entire block & the neighboring block to the north too. Allegedly after the 1st neighbor called him to tell him I was just there seeking tape the control freak then ordered, by phone, that the entire neighborhood, whom he allegedly "owned" give me no tape & ordered that My Mother not allow me to go to the store to buy any and that she question me as to what I wanted to use the tape for? I told him it wasn't her fault, I'd given her a non-specific reply, afraid that if she knew I had repaired the glasses, my bro would "spontaneously" want to play with them again. Was what he said true? Idano? It may be true only in that he said that to me. And now here i am fool enough to repeat the boasts of the self-professed liar for profit in public. Oh well...
Strange stories & weird things afoot in Bay City's South End. It's how the scam works.
AGAIN??? Yeah, again...
Soooo.... there I was. The giant Jocks both surrounded me & had me each in a half nelson of sorts from each side behind me. Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars were just outside them with serious looks on their faces.
We were in what appeared to be a mid-Michigan Bay City Michigan Public School Hallway. Where exactly? I didn't recognize it. It could be due to the location or looking at it in hindsight marred by the drugs I was on against my will?
Duh Jerk told me the Jocks were going to throw me into a room where everyone had been paid to kill me. This would be our last meeting.
After the obligatory threats & random insults from them & my cutting & very truthful insults to them I was unceremoniously thrown into a class with about 10 men all aged 21 or less, clearly adults.
Me? I attacked.
Make a long story short? Okay. We fought. I lost. Very quickly. Barely put a boo-boo on one guy, the total sum of injuries.
The gang seemed at a loss for what to do & discussed what to do with me? Why'd I attack them was 1st on the list of questions.
I told them they were hired to kill me so I attacked 1st.
They shot back saying some guy none of them knew had told them to wait in the room.
A few of them discussed beating me up for attacking them. The rest said to let me go.
They were debating (not for long) when Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars & the Army of Jocks came in with Dirty Cop himself who arranged for the transition of them holding me to the "allegedly deputized" Jocks who held me firmly.
Me? I told them guys their life was forfeit. They should run now. & quickly explained, having recalled just then the last few classrooms of 10 I'd been thrown into.
Duh Jerk assured the young men I was crazy, not to listen to me. Until I was cuffed & restrained. Then he changed his tune. He chewed me out. "You didn't hurt anyone"?!?!?!?! He said they'd bet on if I could kill off an entire room again, he & the bosses. "I figured you'd kill at least 2 or 3". According to him everybody, The Bosses themselves included, had picked a number but in their betting nobody had chosen zero as it seemed like an impossible number, given my past record. He & the Stars were livid at my poor showing, especially when you considered their Bosses were watching.
The young men took it all in & I explained they were set up by Jerk & the 4 Stars to die here.
The 10 men were not happy.
Duh Jerk said that their opinions meant nothing anyway since he was going to order them to take the Date Rape Drug & it'd erase their memories & ordered someone who answered to being a Dr to begin administering the drug.
Me? I wanted to recall this so I set out to stall. So I goaded the 10 into fighting being drugged by taunting them & it worked, a little. There was a brief struggle that the Jocks & Dirty Cop put down physically with the 4 Stars.
The memory is breaking up as I tried hard to stall. Suggesting that they dose the 10 who were resisting 1st & not compliant me (I was surprised it worked).
I had a conversation of insults with Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars that breaks up, likely as the drug erased memories based on a future dose? Just a guess.
Fade to black...
HOW TO ESCAPE FROM JAIL... Kill everyone between you & the door...
Sooooo... there I was. Running while covered in dripping blood head to toe. Why? I was escaping my kidnappers.
Who was chasing me? The Police AND members of the gang. They drove around me in cars. Pointing at me & coordinating their capture.
How'd I get covered in blood? My torturers, lead by Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars worked in shifts to beat me in a large dimly lit room with a whole lot of participants. At one point, I got a knife. Then we fought. Me vs a huge room.
How'd that go? We fought. I won. Problem was blood was everywhere. Problem was I was already depleted BEFORE the fight to a degree. Now I was surely depleted.
It occurred to me, I gotta get out of here. So I left.
The gang gave chase. The... cops got involved.
They surrounded me. We fought. I lost. I was quickly taken into custody & the 2... cops whom I'd call the main participants, who generally provided security for the event's many Skits & PRACTICAL jokes. They were there, or so they said, to arrest me for the gang.
And those 2... cops arrested me... for the gang!
I figured they'd make a big public scene, take my vital statistics & such. Probably a massive scene considering the epic scene I'd left behind me. The scene I was now dripping in.
Me? I was an atheist. I recall praying to God for freedom. If only to taste freedom again, if only for a few minutes because I figured this was it. The gang had me, game over!
I was surprised when the pair loaded me into their marked car & the... cop motorcade drove me to their... copshop.
The whole way to what I figured would be my new home for years to come the pair threatened to kill me.
At the jail the... cops manhandled me inside & they talked about what to do to me, being that I was not talking to them. They locked all their weapons in lockers in the front of the... copshop & took me to the jail intake.
Truth be told, I was looking for any chance to escape. I touched nothing with my hands. I said nothing. It was easy, I couldn't concentrate on more than 1 thing at a time. because of the drugs the gang had me on. Thus I wasn't forthcoming in conversation.
That's when the main body of the... cops stood around, talking about me.
Me? It was apparent I was in a jail intake of some sort & I needed an advantage. I saw, 4(?) cells, one was empty, so after they uncuffed me & took their eyes off me for a moment I walked into the empty cell. Checking the door I was surprised to notice the door was not locked. So I watched & waited for any advantage.
The main body of... cops agreed to talk about me away from me. They walked out. 1st standing outside my cell & threatening me. It seemed to me that they all acted like I was locked in my cell.
One the main body of... cops left the 2... cops walked up to my cell & threatened to kill me, or to beat me up for what I'd done to the people at the place I just escaped from. It was here they told me that the room was soundproof. That they could cuff me & beat me to death & none of the other... cops would hear me screaming.
Me? I noted they talked about open murder in front of several witnesses. That and there were likely cameras in the room filming everything. I also told them I figured I could take them & would never let them cuff me. Secretly I was terrified my memory could reset at any moment, again, & I'd just have let them do it. Again...
One of the pair threatened me that I was big compared to them, so they'd say they were transferring me to another cell & I resisted. Then the main body of... cops would cheerfully help the pair beat me into submission, maybe even kill me then & there with them 2 helping the transfer to a more secure cell.
One, the older... cop got very nervous about the camera talk. So he suggested they talk while facing away from the camera. They both seemed worried they'd already said way too much, and that lip-readers could tell everything that they'd said up & until then when they later reviewed the tapes of what happened during my up & coming death while incarcerated.
My fellow prisoners tried to chat with me but one of them hushed the others. Noting they'd all best pay attention to what happened next.
I, being closest to the pair of dirty... cops couldn't make out everything they said. But I heard bits. They had promised to murder me & in front of witnesses. They needed to silence them. But how? Yank them from their cells & beat them up? What if they talked.
People they loved died back at the scene. They planned to kill me. But how? They agreed it would be by cuffing me & beating me to death.
"But what about the cameras"?
One guy said he knew where the tapes were located & he was pretty sure he could break into the device & destroy the film. But what about the witnesses?
The pair agreed they had to die too. During a prison escape or prison revolt.
Me? My energy restored as much as it was going to be restored I figured I heard enough. I noticed the pair had their backs to me & when one stood at a spot where his partner blocked him seeing me I decided it was now or never!
But how? Hmmmm... So I hatched a plan on the spot. I walked up on the... murderous... cop literally talking about murdering me & decided to gently walk up on him & put his arms & upper torso in a leg lock. I used as little momentum as possible. Why? In the past I did leaping grabs & tried to snap necks. But the act of taking the target to the ground added to their strength & allowed them to wriggle free.
So I almost just stood next to the... cop, jumped up, & wrapped my legs around him. I fully expected him top lose his balance but he stood upright as I grabbed his neck & did everything he could to remain standing.
Twisting his neck was an eerie experience. I recall his face coming into view with a look of angry determination. K-K-K-K-K-KRACK! Then, the middle-aged... cop's face just turned emotionless & we both fell to the ground.
I could see the other... cop's face in the last moment's of the 1st... cop's life. He froze & had a surprised look on his face.
The corpse & I collapsed on the ground & I stood as fast as possible & that 2nd dirty... cop & I had a knock down dragg'em out fight. We fought. I won.
The men in the cells shouted protests at me.
I hushed them & ultimately told them if I had to, if they would't shut up, I now had the keys to their cells & would come in each cell 1 at a time & shut them up.
They protested but, they shut up.
There was a small window in the door looking into the main entry & I could see the... cops in a circle talking, about what, Idano? But they looked "serious" to me.
So I pondered how to get out. If I tried to run out the group of... cops who'd already proven they could cat5ch me running away would likely give chase. That seemed like a really bad plan. I thought about leaving through the unguarded back door. The door to the Jail Intake. When I talked when we came in I'd asked the... cops about their choice to use the front door & why not the back door that had a formidable airlock entry system & locked garage of sorts. & they'd told me that using the Intake Doors to leave was not possible without 2 people operating the doors. The Intake had only 1 guy, the rest were chasing me, so they used the front door to bring me in. I actually pondered using the guys in the cells to escape, getting them to operate the door controls whom I hushed but judged it way too dangerous to trust them. That left fighting my way out. They were all disarmed after all.
But a room full of... cops & in my present condition? SO I decided on a very dangerous plan. I'd try to walk out right past them.
I took off my shirt & cleaned up as fast as I could. I figured that if I were shirtless they'd notice me. I could try to get a shirt off the guys in the cells but that meant more fighting & I had to leave asap!
SO I looked around & zeroed in on the 2... cops. They were bloody. But the one... cop's shirt was bloody but only on the left side. The side that'd be facing them... cops if I walked out. So I turned his shirt inside out & walked out. Very aware that if my fellow prisoners shouted out it was game over.
My hair wet & wearing an inside out dead... cop's shirt I walked out into the front room & briskly left making sure to not make eye contact & it took all of my willpower to not run as soon as I got out & walked off into the cold.
In about 1/2 a block a huge white van pulled up with several cars all packed with Jocks lead by the 4 Stars in the busy & packed downtown area of who knows where?
We fought. I lost & they dragged me into the van in front of a huge crowd.
Just like normal Fagboy & the 4 Stars insisted they were... cops & this was an arrest of a dangerous mental patient.
Me? I pointed out the whole while many of the Jocks were teens, children. Many of the deputized were literally, children. 8-11-years -old? "THIS IS A KIDNAPPING! THESE GUYS AIN'T COPS"! "No one deputizes little kids".
In my opinion no one in the large crowd that gathered believed the 4 Stars & their child & Jock army. Fagboy, clearly in charge decided to cut his losses there in public & ordered that everyone leave.
The rest is written elsewhere. Fagboy shouting at me, a scared look on his face. "HOW DID YOU GET OUT?!?! HOW DID YOU GET OUT"?!?!?!
...
​
I was surprised when The Last Snitch brought it up decades later. He too, like the alleged sent "Snitch" before him said the gang had panicked because of my very public kidnapping outside the jail. Well, that & the bloody clothes & the films in the... copshop. SO they decided to just let me go rather than endanger Fagboy or the 4 Stars & their very pubic kidnapping in downtown during broad daylight.
He bragged they'd stolen the films & were alarmed at the content. So they had to steal all the physical evidence & one at a time, methodically, just like they'd done to the 1976-77 Children of the School Shaped like "E" for Evil, they'd recruited every single... cop at that... copshop & my fellow prisoners who were allegedly there on unrelated charges. Then they decided to cover-up all the dead & maimed of where I escaped from & had to alter Police Data so that a standard Police inquiry into what I allege wouldn't show up like I described to investigators. Then they went after recruiting every witness they could & came to realize a whole bunch of people whom I'd literally begged to stare at Fagboy's face (I actually did ask people to look at him, a lot!) had seen him, and the 4 Stars & that represented a danger. So they had to cover it all up.
He said that now, decades later they'd scrubbed the evidence to such a degree & owned so many witnesses that they felt confident in charging me for the death of their beloved dirty... cops. The other... cops had been humiliated by my escape & my fellow prisoners didn't much care for me because of our conversation during my escape (rude ONLY in that in my opinion, I literally saved their lives).
He even bragged the incident was now the gang's "Endgame" against me. That if I ever "won against the gang" that they'd secured a promise from the local Dirty Prosecutor to prosecute me no matter what. Claiming he was enraged that I'd killed so many people in a desire to live. "You just cant go around killing that many people even for the best of reasons". Truth be told he said the real reason was as an "example" to the gang's enemies that standing up to them in any way would not be tolerated.
To put it simply (in case a mid-Michigan... cop somehow reads this far down) I'm an example for their enemies of the gang's power. If they could do this openly in public to me, then they can do this openly in public to them too.
He said they already explored the legal means of attack & it's not without it's precedent. There's a lot of guys in jail because they defended their lives or the lives of the innocent in a way that outraged the Prosecutors from all over the country. ie: read "gang Prosecutor Inserts", pay-offs, bribes, & blackmail. He claimed they had more than enough evidence to prove that the pair of dirty... cops threatened many victims over their career & they can prove they didn't kill those victims. That'd mean my defending myself was an overreaction.
I recall my comeback. "Ahhh... the dirty cop defense". Yeah, they liked to threaten to kill people but they were some good ole boys, just a lil carried away. Me? I added in the fact that we'd been travelling the nation killing people earlier & that I killed their friends & even their girlfriend (a young little girl whore both professed to love) & that's why they threatened me. Not to confess to any crime.
He retorted I had the burden of proof to prove that, so too bad for me. Everyone who'd died was from far away & their killings had been covered up because there were way too many witnesses that saw The 4 Stars involved is a very public kidnapping/jail escape. In part because I kept yelling to the witnesses. "Look at their faces! THIS IS A KIDNAPPING! THESE AIN'T COPS! COPS DON'T DEPUTIZE LITTLE KIDS TO FIGHT DANGEROUS CRIMINALS"! LOOK AT THEIR FACES"!
"Our story will be that they were just trying to scare you".
"Well they succeeded". I admitted. They had indeed scared the wits out of my sleep & torture deprived drug addled mind.
Me? I believe & believed in respecting the law & Law Enforcement Officers.
Sigh...
----------->>>
I recall at one point the pair of dirty... cops actually agreed to kill me, then, & there in the police motorcade surrounded by their... cop partners.
"We should just drive away & say he (me, the Author of this website) held a gun on us & forced us to drive away. Then we can kill him somewhere away from any witnesses".
I thought to myself. "Good plan". I figured I'd better speak up before they began their plan, because once begun then it'd be too late. So, I put doubts into their minds. Pointing out that we were literally surrounded by marked police cars that probably had high performance engines. It'd be stupid to even try to outrun them in our present jalopy by comparison.
One dirty... cop retorted that their car was an undercover car with a very powerful engine. He figured they could outrun all of them.
Me? I retorted. Sure their car was powerful. But what kind of drivers were they? What kind of drivers were all around us? Did they know?
"We've had training in high speed driving" He answered.
"How much"? I asked them if they went to some racing school like maybe a few of the... cops around us? Or a few hours of talk & 2 laps around a racetrack kind of training? I pointed out some of the other cops looked like veterans, who may be fantastic drivers.
One... cop told me he had driven fast quite a few times & felt he could beat all comers chasing them.
I pointed out that the other... cop was driving, not him. "How much experience does he have"?
"We'll just switch places up ahead & then do it".
I said as soon as they tried I'd yell my head off to the... cops around us.
They chatted some more & decided to not kill me, just yet. Yet...
Sigh...
"Next time just let them do whatever they want to you & lay down like a dog & die & hope that out of the goodness of their heart that the guys who just tortured you & promised you death deign to allow you to live out of the goodness of their hearts". - Actual... cOP quotes I've heard in 1,000 or so words condensed into a simple sentence".
"We are all that AND a bag of chips. We're never wrong, well, not as a whole because we're all waaaayyy too good at our jobs". - Actual... cOP quotes I've heard in 1,000 or so words condensed into a simple sentence".
IT'S ALLLLLL PROOF... According to the gang AND... cops...
I came too drugged stupid on who knows what Circa: 1985ish. I was in a cement room with a metal door & several sturdy tables & chairs. A lone camera was focused on me. The 4 Stars & various interrogators all took turns asking me questions over & over for days, maybe weeks.
It seems someone, whom they called "an Indian" had threatened to beat me up. They asked me what I was going to do about it? Would I fight him? Would I beat him up? All while a single camera filmed it all from a nearby tripod.
Every now & then I became lucid prompting the 4 Stars to leap from the table behind the giant Jocks & the army of teens who'd subdue me & drug me anew. Guys I could lift with 1 arm were defeating me. Easily...
During a rare lucid moment I asked the smiling madman Duh Jerk why I was so weak?
He bragged I was on strength reducing drugs. Mostly because I was otherwise way too dangerous to handle.
Rinse, lather repeat for days, weeks? In time in my deprived & drug-addled mind I got angry. Busting up quite a few gang members. Poking out eyes & worse. Leaving the young men about to enter the prime of their lives scarred & maimed.
When I complained to Duh Jerk he'd say things like. "I don't care who gets hurt. It's how I beat the cops. The cops figure that if I were a gang leader I'd care about my guys but I don't care who gets hurt". Thus, he explained, ALL of his victims were liars in the... cop's minds. It's only logical.
As time went by & I became more delirious, more deprived of sleep & between gang rapes the interviewers posed their question & I said I'd fight the guy.
Then they added more bits. It seems the "Indian" had an ability I'd only read about or seen on TV. He was one of the rare people on earth who could see in the dark, literal infrared vision.
Me? I told them I wasn't scared.
Soooo the conversation changed. Now it was would I fight him in a match where we were both in a darkened room?
I recall turning it down as foolish. But over time my answers were random, like usual. One of the many random answers I gave was sure, I'd fight him in the dark & didn't care if he could see & I couldn't, I'd still accept his knife-fighting challenge. Did I mention that they'd morphed it into a knife-fighting challenge by now? No? Not that ANY mid-Michigan... cop would agree that a single area child-molester would be so dishonorable. "It's unethical"! That's cool though, I'm not addressing them, otherwise I'd use Simpler wordS & make all my every letter "S" into a dollar $ign so they wouldn't lo$e intereSt.
It came time...
I was slapped awake in a similar room as before. Maybe the same one. The only difference was an open door that led to a darkened room.
Double the number of Jocks. & add in an uniformed Ambulance crew. with a large assortment of medical bags & boxes. Duh Jerk was there, The 4 Stars, Bay City Police's own Dirty Cop armed & in uniform as usual, & so was a native America guy. Late 20s, early 30s. an inch or 2 taller than me & fit wearing an eyepatch with native artwork.
Duh Jerk explained the rest of my life to me then & there. He said during a AD&D game I'd recently discussed a TV show I saw where a native American had infrared vision & was beat up by the TV show hero. Then I discussed having read about a few native Americans who served in WWII with the ability & all in front of a game insert & his hidden duffle bag camera.
Not believing me they looked into it & decided to find a guy with the ability & recruit him. He said they'd showed him the films & now he was convinced I was the biggest scumbag on earth.
I noted in the short conversation with the gloating native AMerican that Duh Jerk had essentially admitted the evidence was all fabricated, I'd been framed & was innocent.
The guy agreed but said it mattered not. He was blackmailed & they could send him to prison for life anytime they wanted. Plus, some of the film, so many people got hurt, that he still felt pretty good about attacking me.
The man relished in a bit-by-bit description of how he was an accomplished wrestler. He'd used his dark-fighting ability before & put foes into submission holds & then cut them up. He described how he would create slashing wounds on me, like we'd fought a battle in the dark, all the while sodomizing me for the night vision camera for the gang's amusement. Then, once he'd had his fun & scarred me up for life the Ambulance crew would be there to make sure I lived & Dirty Cop would be there to seize the films where I accepted the challenge of knife-fighting him in the dark. Then he bragged he'd go to jail, so would I, but he'd get bailed out. With the films he'd be lucky to get a slap on the wrist legally & live a life filled with cash reward & sexual depravity as a reward (far from his exact words, which involved lots of whores, little girls included when I asked).
Duh Jerk added that The Native would humiliate me on film for the amusement of everyone there & his Bosses who were allegedly watching the whole thing on closed circuit TV, complete with night vision so they wouldn't miss a bit of the action.
Me? In these situations Atheist me usually prayed! I had to get out of there. Just as important I had to get any advantage I could.
Duh Jerk announced now was the time. I could enter the room willingly or be thrown into it. A guy at the door was stationed to give me a knife once I was in & the Jocks would slam the door shut & lock us in. Noting I'd best enter promptly or be injured badly by the door slam. Plus my opponent would no doubt take advantage of my being pinned at the door & cut me up then & there so I'd best go in promptly or be beaten up & thrown in bodily.
Me? I noted the guy's eyepatch & we discussed how it's allow him to keep his night vision. I asked if this was going to be a fair fight & DUh Jerk said it was. I was even off the strength-reducing drugs.
I felt a lil weak, the drug's effects were not 100% gone yet. Plus, I hadn't eaten in weeks. I pointed out we should wait until I had some food. Until the drugs I was on dissipated.
Duh Jerk refused.
The Native said it was still fair because HE was on drugs. He was as high as a kite.
Duh Jerk laughed. Yes, he was on drugs. Horse tranquilizers that boosted strength & stamina. Plus another drug for recreation that he didn't specify. The guy had been told to take his time & really beat me down & cut me up & the drugs would mean he'd have no remorse when he did it.
I noted the eyepatch. I didn't have one so the fight was not fair.
The gang chatted that they could fashion one out of some gauze in the medical kits.
I said a poor-fitting gauze bandage wasn't fair when you considered his sweet form-fitting eyepatch. I wanted one too (another weapon). What I really wanted was to even the playing field so he couldn't go into the room already acclimated to the darkness & I'd have a slight chance.
Duh Jerk told me too bad & ordered the fight begin.
Incredibly, the Native ripped his eyepatch off & said he'd fight me. "I'll just hide in a corner until my night vision comes back".
I foolishly said. "Then I'll check the corners". I cursed myself inside for my foolishness, the drugs...
The Native said he'd make sure to not hide in a corner then.
Duh Jerk looked flabbergasted but relented. The 4 Stars protested saying they should delay the fight & force the Native to wear an eyepatch. "He's too slippery"! one of The STars noted that I'd gotten out of a few of their rock & a hard place situations before using trickery. They'd do well to not take any chances this time. Just in case I could somehow win.
I complained they said it'd be a fair fight & Duh Jerk agreed. Reluctantly... Then ordered the fight to begin.
The Native walked up to the room in front of me & it was then that I hatched a plan. I pointed & said that Duh Jerk wanted him. He turned around at the door & turned a blind flank to me.
It was then I walked up to him & kicked the side of his knee with all of my drug-addled & sleep-deprived ability. KRACK! The Native went down clutching his knee! WOW! Was he mad!
Everyone in the rom were furious! If the Jocks & The 4 Stars had their way I would be crippled or killed on the spot for my treachery & dishonorable attack!
The Ambulance crew tended to the man's wound.
Me? I pointed out that no part of anything they'd done to me there had been honorable in my opinion. This wasn't a fair fight between 2 challengers. I was kidnapped, drugged, deprived, still a little on their drugs, & the way I saw it was they had no honor so I felt no compulsion to show any of them any honor.
The entire room begged Duh Jerk for permission to kill or cripple me.
In the end, after much deliberation Duh Jerk refused them.
I recall the 4 Stars asking that they be allowed to find & recruit another fighter.
I've left this part out of several stories. No reason, seemed unimportant to me. But it was then that Duh Jerk used "The Phrase that Pays". A string of words of nonsense. Clearly some fabrication or saying that's translation eludes both./.. cops & myself. What is "The Phrase That Pays"? PHHHT! I ain't telling. You want to know? Investigate my claims. In simpler words in case mid-Michigan... cops or aGENTS somehow read this. "You want to know? Get a job"! All in words of less than 4 letters just for them.
The room erupted into a fury when Duh Jerk announced I be drugged & released. The whole scene was a bust. A failure.
An obligatory mouthpiece was sent to brag on the subject. It seems that the edited films of me just walking up to the Native & seemingly breaking his knee looked quite damning. The films provided the gang with a film that painted me as dishonorable. Like I should've fought the man. They figured that even to people who they'd show the entire content of the films that they could paint me as dishonorable based on. the fact that, despite all the cards being stacked against me, I should've fought the guy fairly.
I retorted "There was nothing fair about what went on their that night".
He said the honorable thing to do would've been to fight the guy anyway. To die with honor.
"There was no honor in anything anyone did there that night". I added. Me included. I complained I might've fought had it been to the death. But the goal of the fight wasn't to fight to the death in honorable challenge, the stated goal was my rape & disfiguring for recreation & revenge. To frame me for a fight no sane people would ever engage in, either side.
He said they'd approached the Native's Sister & she'd agreed to accuse me of heinous perverse crimes (far from his exact words, he said a very specific perverse crime) based on the films of what happened to her brother. The way they figured it was the gang could inspire tons of guys to fight me based solely on how dishonorable I acted.
So I asked him. "So even when you guys lose you win"?
Smiling he agreed. Had I fought & lost, I'd lose & have been raped, disfigured & went to prison for a long time. Had I fought & beat the guy up, I'd have possibly been raped or disfigured & surely have gone to prison for a long time & lost. There was no way the gang could lose.
Whatever...
<<<----------------
Over a quarter century later The Last Snitch told me the whole thing had been a PRACTICAL joke gone bad.
According to him, yes, I had in fact escaped their rape gang by killing a whole lot of people & injuring as many & was recaptured in part with the help of an actual Police dragnet by the local corrupt.... copshop. When I was arrested it was by their well-known fake... cops & they took me to a Defunct Jail where the gang ran many PRACTCAL jokes on it's victims, particularly their victims from Bay County?
When I told him I didn't buy it he went on to describe the jail & even details such as what I was wearing & the interior of the Defunct Jail. Such as how it was nearly identical to the Garage Prisoner Intake of the Bay County Law Enforcement Center. With one difference.
The Defunct Jail (he said it used to be that county's jail, but was now used by the gang for PRACTICAL jokes) was the exact same as Bay City's Federal Holding Facility Jail down to the garage size, layout, & cell layout except for the cells on the south wall of the Intake, the cells across from the Jail Intake Control Room weren't there & replaced by blank wall & an industrial sink. He actually brought the sink up saying the gang used it to clean up their PRACTICAL jokes & participants while they entertained people in the front of the Defunct Jail.
According to him the 7 Troopers & the Guards were in the front of the Defunct Jail & noticed the fight on closed circuit TV (circa 1984? I wonder about that claim?) & one of The Bosses was there & made the call to let me kill the area's beloved fake... cops for the gang. "They watched them die". He gave a reason for it but at the time of this writing I cant recall what that was (it WAs during a drugged debriefing after all and decades later). He claimed it explained why I was so quickly recaptured by the gang who'd decided to trade those beloved fake... cops lives as leverage to blackmail me. he also threatened me that the 2 fake... cops were beloved in their area. Known by many to be fake but seen as vigilantes of sorts who brought law & order to the area & represented a vast pool of people who'd hate me when the time came for my destruction. The films of me killing the pair locking me in their jail where the community was ready to band together & literally lynch me for the deaths of the law bringers.
My retort was that the people of that community were likely not invited to gang rape & torture day & probably didn't have to listen to the pair's rants about the superiority of the Child-molesting lifestyle & the sexual prowess of their soon to be dead or dying pre-teen girlfriend/whore who serviced ALL the men of the group that guarded me.
He said most people knew or suspected they were child-molesters but would likely doubt any accusations about them on the whole.
What's my opinion (as if it matters)? My opinion is this: That I am not now nor was I ever a mid-Michigan... cop so I don't believe every word that comes out of a child-molester's mouth & believe it even less when they tell me something like. Yeah, we lied before but now we're really really really telling the truth, I swear on some little kid's life that you've never met. Trust me".
WITH KID GLOVES... You big meanie...
Weirdisms? Meh, why not. This one is about the gang & the hypocritical way they treat victims & use it to CONvicne... cOPS that their victim is the one's the... cOPS should destroy & not them.
To sum it all up in a few simple words. The gang are a bunch of lying cheating beating murderous baby-raping child-killing rapists' drug-dealing child-pornographers but you'd better treat THEM with kid gloves. OR ELSE!
Case in point. ME? The AUthor of this website. Way too many times have I heard about how my kidnapping rapists drug-dealing film-makers & recreational attempted murderers have the moral high ground because some random... cOP saw a film or heard how my deprived & drug-addled mind reacted to one of their PRACTICAL jokes or attempted murders in a way not 100% up the THEM... cop's standard of honor. "I don't like the way YOU handled that'.
Standin there dripping in the fluids of my latest gang rape the... cops inform me they won't help me. Why? Because in my quest to escape the madmen I hurt or put a boo boo on one of the child-molesters. Or I escaped using questionable ethics. As if the ethics they used to kidnap me were somehow purer?
"You hurt one of them, you big meanie". Not an exact quote, but the wise know what I mean.
My Point is this. In mid-Michihgan the gang AND the... cOPS EXPECT you to treat the gang with kid gloves. Sure they all know with a nod & a win k that the gang are raping & killing, but when YOU stand up to them & their endless child-hordes you're just a big meanie. PERIOD!
"I won't help someone like you. You can leave the Police Station now or be arrested for Criminal Tresspass".
They should've added. "Ya big meanie".
I guess most... cOPS aren;'t invited on the days the gang chooses to make my attendednce mandatory?
DIRTY... cOPS EVERYWHERE... A true-life Bay City... cOP tale...
Sooooooooo... there I was. I had just been attacked by a gang of young & middle-aged men I'd never seen in my life. There were injuries & they threatened me with prosecution for them. Sooooooooo... I figured it may be in my best interest to head on down to the local... cOPSHOP & file a report, just in case. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?
The... cOPS at the front desk of the (spitooey!) Bay cOWNTIE (nsme mispelled both symbollicly and on purpose!) Law Enforcement Centre seemed professional & courteous & when they raised skepticism, I'd fought so many guys & was barely bruised or cut (I had both) I took it as no insult, I'd expected it.
Then, the gang of men waltzed in as angry as a Swarm of wet bees. They took over the front of the cOPSHOP. Expertly positioning themselves at the exits and to the flanks of the... cOPS & formed a wall between myself & the main exit. The... cops didn't seem to notice or care.
I recall noting my best possible escape route would be to jump over the counter & make way to one of several exits I knew well from the many times I wandered the... copshop's environs in the past (they really need to improve their security; I've brought it up many a time to them)
The Dirty Cop himself waltz's in too. Coincidence? When I pointed it out the Front Desk... cOPS told me they thought so.
Sooooooooooo... The gang took over the scene & demanded that I be arrested! That and that the... cops should listen to them 1st, not me, so the... cop's obliged them half their requests. Of course.
The gang asserted that I'd attacked them and should be arrested on the spot for the deed & punished for their injuries!
I noticed the entire time the gang fanned out very slowly trying to flank & get behind all the... cops but Dirty Cop.
Me? I defended myself as best I could. I had no idea who these guys were nor why they approached me or why they attacked.
One of the men spoke up & said I'd attacked THEM because I was their jilted lover. We had been friends for years by now he claimed & the gang parroted it.
Me? I wasn't sure where this was going but decided to stick with the truth, as fearlessly & as calmy as possible. I told them... cOPS that I had no idea who any of them were, let alone being friends or lovers. I wasn't even gay. When the gang protested, noting how familiar we were with each other, we were the greatest buttbudies after all (not thier exact words) I retorted. If we're such great buttbuddies then what is my name"? When the gang's "Speaker" balked at answering I asked them all, challenging each one politely with eye contact. Anyone? What is my name"?
The room went silent for a long time. Maybe a minute. A long time when surrounded by guys armed with guns who are threatening you, your health, and your freedom backed up by the gang who just attacked you AND with Dirty Cop positioning himself so I could either turn my back on him or the gang as a whole!
After that minute Dirty Cop spoke up. "I'm sure everybody here knows your name is David. They're just embarrassed to speak up".
I noted it was an excellent chews play of sorts by a professional dirty cop. So I basically noted he'd told them my name. Then I figured out who was in charge of the investigation & once I identified the Lead Investigator I asked him while pointing at Dirty Cop. "They only know because you told them. Make him shut up under penalty of law for interfering in a Police Investigation".
Dirty Cop looked at me with a look of pure hatred & openly gritted his teeth in a very aggressive ready to pounce posture in my opinion.
I asked the crowd. "If we've been friends for years then what is my last name? Anyone"? None of them could answer. "Okay, tell me anything personal about me? If we're such great buttbuddies that should be an easy one"
The gang was silent. The Speaker spoke up & said we'd made a lot of gay porn AND that was his proof. The gang agreed with him, all of our gay porn proved I was a liar.
Me? I told him I always wanted to confront The films" of the gang where I'm obviously on drugs & usually restrained. "Lets see them films"? Lets go. Lets get them films & start this thing was my opinion. I asserted any gay porn with me in it was rape.
The Spokesman denied the existence of any gay porn. So did the gang who all changed their story on the spot.
I insisted the gang changing it's story meant my version of events may be true. I had witnesses who had been at the scene & said it may be possible for the... cops to question them.
The gang insisted I be prosecuted, they had tons of witnesses. It was about 10 guys, most of them taller than I (but mostly slimmer & mostly in poor shape in my opinion), and they were almost all injured so that made it 10 to 1.
The... cOPS said that because they were all involved they were not witnesses but the actual subjects of a now ongoing Police Investigation.
Pass time, but not much. At one point I'm placed under arrest & beat the accusation via deduction. The... cops threaten me, my health, & my freedom. The gang attacks me! I fight off the few who fight past to me & half a dozen.... cops come rushing in & subdue the crowd. No charges are filed.
Me? The exits blocked what could I do but watch the... cops subdue the gang.
In the end I asked. "Am I being legally detained"?
The Lead Investigator said I was not being legally detained.
Then I turned around & briskly left looking at a room full of surprised gang members &... cops mostly standing there with their mouths agape.
The Lead Investigator yelled at my backside. "Don't you still want to file a Police Report".
I figured it would be in my best interest to address him. So I told him no. "I just want to escape here with my health & my freedom intact". I pointed out how Dirty Cop stood behind me the whole while & they would not forbid the man I called my kidnapper & dirty cop attacker. I noted the false arrest, the fact they called me liar over & over that I couldn't possibly defend myself from so large a gang let alone wound any of them & here they were covered in injuries they claimed I made on them... alone. I pointed out that they'd threatened my health & my freedom repeatedly. "I just want to escape".
Then I turned around & briskly left. It was one of the last times I ever went there.
Of course a mouthpiece was sent to brag/complain with words spoken with absolute purity of heart forged in earth's mightiest truths (or so mid-Michigan... cops act like when I tell them the gang said this or that & I never believed a single word any of the gang ever told me). He said I hadn't been going to the... cops very often & because of the injuries they'd thought I wouldn't. When I did I snuck up on the copshop so they were caught off guard. So Duh Jerk assembled everyone not at the Hospital (didn't he say the rest were shuttled to a Saginaw Hospital) & sent them inside to begin a serial rapist/pervert accusation against me. According to the Mouthpiece. "You got lucky". He said they gang had been ordered before and at the... cOPSHOP to injure my face. It seems the wounds had been testified as having happened to me & so they needed me with a beat-up face to seal the frame job against me.
He claimed Duh Jerk had said to the... cop & Crew. "And don't come back unless you injure his face"! According to him, a man, part of an unquestionably honorable social group too almost all of the bAY cITY... cOPS I ever met, noted I kept my back to dirty Cop the whole wile. He couldn't justify sucker punching me in the back of the head to injure my face because I was calm & no opportunity presented itself that wasn't under direct observation of the... cops in the (cough! cough!) "Investigation". The other... cops who'd rushed in had shown up unexpected & the gang were at a loss for what to do. They hadn't injured my face & had been beaten back by the... cops. They dared not attack, being they'd just lost. Sucker punching me wasn't an option at the end for Dirty Cop because of my brisk departure where all eyes were on me & he was stuck on crowd control (he'd have had to walk through the entire crowd to do it) & couldn't pursue me. He noted all of them guys were going to be punished & would certainly represent a pool of recent gang recruits (victim/members) who would certainly be glad to testify against me in whatever their coming frame job against me would be as revenge. Dirty Cop just hated me all the more.
"Duh Jerk wanted you to know that you got lucky". He said I wouldn't get lucky forever.
To God be the glory, somehow, I survived. Thanks God.
"Not in my area".
"Why? Because we're all waaaaaaay too good at our jobs. Pinky promise".
"Please ignore news reports of sex gangs in our areas, we've got bonuses to think of & not citizans we took an oath to protect".
/
/
/
/
It's how a scam ran by a gang that call themselves "primarily actors" works.
At one point The Supervisor challenged me to explain how Bad Cop had come to think I'd hit him? It sounded fishy to him?
Me? I told him I had no idea what made bad cop think I'd hit him. But suggested I'd bet it could be maybe something like a broom tipped over & hit him, or a ceiling tile had come lose & when he turned around, he saw me & over-reacted. Unable to bring up the minutes long struggle Bad Cop was at a loss to debate it.
At one point The supervisor told a... cop to check for anything that may have struck Bad Cop that may still be on the floor in the room behind us & he returned saying there was nothing there, the room was pristine & neat & there was nothing to indicate my story was possible.
Me? I told them to not hold it against me if some good Samaritan had walked by & picked up whatever it was that set Bad Cop off. "Where's the Janitor at right now if that room is clean & this room is dirty"? What other explanation could there be?
WOW! Was Bad Cop mad!
Bay City's finest... Humph!
As a public service I know provide publicly the definition to a word for consumption & the betterment of knowlege for mid-Michigan Law-Enforcement professionals. Please don't thank me sirs, just knowing you're out there providing the law enforcement excellence that made my website possible is reward enough for me. GULP!
​
Empathy em·pa·thy [ˈempÉ™THÄ“] noun the ability to understand and share the feelings of another:
"The mid-Michigan... cop has a total lack of empathy for anybody, least of all for the feelings of David A. George"
​
For the record I had & have empathy for everyone involved. Not just for the pain we all endured that day but for the horror show their lives were & likely became.
You wont see it Reader, but after I write this I'm going to pray for everyone involved that fateful day.
Why wont you see it?
​
Matthew 6:6: But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.
--------->>>
"Is this normal"? -David A. George
"I have nothing else to compare it to".
What I'm listening to after I write this tale:
ASSORTED WEIRDISMS... Nothing more...
Here I shall endeavor to list a few short weirdisms. No reason...
​
Usually...
I was talking to a Bay City... cop & his many peers one day... Then I said it to the... cops. "Usually when I kill"... I've reflected on it many times, my choice of words, usually. Usually.... How could mid-Michigan... cops let my life get to a point where I truthfully used the word "Usually?
Man, I have a ton of stories that begin that way. Sadly, none of them end, "and then they arrested the people stalking me & set them up to stand a short but fair trial".
Feel free to substitute the words Cay City... cop with Bay City Gang Chapter of the Mid-Michigan State... cops or the Bay City Chapter of the fBI, an organization I otherwise respect & admire. (not them, the other, honest parts of the FBI, I hear they are not myths, but exist).
Sigh...
​
I forget... I really did...
Soooo when I created this Assorted Weirdisms area I sat down to write some assorted weirdism. Why? For my own peace of mind. Not that they contained any evidence likely to free me, make me money, or win me friends. When I sat down to write I drew a blank. I forgot what I was going to write? was it the evidence that could've freed me, made Police investigate my claims? Probably not.
What happened. When I started typing, I drew a blank.
The lesson is. "Not all memories are available at all times. Some are buried deep & are difficult to recall".
Mid-Michigan... cops, troopers, & agents have assigned their theory on the subject for me. "It proves you're a liar"".
Sigh...
​
​
A dirty... cop attack, right there, in the... copshop!!!
Sooooo... there I was, in the Bay County Law Enforcement Center when a... cop I'd seen before asked me to come into the back with him when I came to file a Police Report.
Once there that... cop asked me if I recalled he'd told me he'd accepted a mortgage deal from Duh Jerk months ago?
I told him I recalled & my attitude was like unto. "How's that working out for you"? Respectfully & calmly asked, as usual.
He told me it'd worked out horribly for him. The gang allegedly used that mortgage to leverage their way into his life & job. Over time, one little thing at a time the gang came to "own" him, his wife, & his kids. He claimed they'd made him hand over his kids to the gang & they'd embraced them. even worse was the gang had ordered him to no longer punish his kids because they like his kids. even worse was the gang recently made him hand over his parents & made him watch their perverse "Recruiting Session".
When I asked him to describe any of it he declined except to say it was pretty bad & ruined his family & the way he saw it I was responsible. He blamed me, the Author of this website who'd tried his best to warn the... cop. So, as revenge he was going to beat me up here & now. I could fight back if I wanted, he'd just yell and an army of... cops was in the next room & they'd cheerfully beat me to near death & he could whip out his nightstick & cheerfully beat me to death, and they'd have to cover for him. If I didn't fight back, it was too bad for me, because after I fell, he'd yell for help & they'd pummel even knocked out me, likely twitching if only because he was still pounding on me when they entered the room. If I somehow survived, I would be going to prison today, after I got out of the hospital for a long, long time.
Needless to say, this guy had my full attention. I thought to myself. "Good plan".
At times like this it is a custom of mine to pray. But I've cheated God out of the prayers between what happened which were just as important or even more important. My bad & to God be the glory, if any glory is to be had. I was never clever enough nor strong enough to have survived without his help.
RECAP: Bad cop, nightstick, army of... cops in the next room, my murder planned & about to be executed & lots of prior prayer by atheist me previously. How'd it go?
The bad cop pulled out his nightstick & when he did so I lunged at him & grabbed his arm, yanking it & twisting his arm & the nightstick behind his back & with a kick I kicked his knee out dropping him to the floor & covered his mouth with my other hand. Using my superior weight I pinned him there in the center of the room with zero leverage. He strained & grunted & groaned but could go nowhere using only his slick dress shoes on the slippery tile floor nor could he signal anyone. A minute or 2 passed with us there in the center of that room. Him straining to get free the entire time.
Me? I waited & gambled on which door the next cops to come through might use? If they came straight in & saw us I knew I was done for, there wasn't a jury on earth who'd believe my side of the story & I knew it!
A few... cops came walking into the room with their left blindside exposed to us & I tossed Bad Cop as far as I could away from them as quietly as possible (him, still on his feet & reeling away) & put on my best poker face, tucked in my shirt, & calmly stepped up on the... cops. "Hello Officers. I'd like to...".
Bad cop was furious & came at me! I backed off & pleaded with the... cops to stop this unkempt madman with a badge attacking me for no reason & the other cops quickly interposed themselves between us.
The bad cop tried to explain I'd attacked him & needed to be arrested... NOW! But he was at a loss for words & breathing very hard, compared to my calm (he'd just expended a lot of energy & was unkempt as well, hair messed up, shirt untucked, sweaty, the floor had been dirty & now his once pristine uniform was smudged dirty all over).
Me? I figured out who was in charge & appealed to them. I was calm & this crazy cop walked up on us. If I attacked him fine, I'm a big guy, got a single mark on you? He was undamaged. Why did I attack him & how could he explain I was calmly walking & he was a raving lunatic? Did he have any witnesses? No? Awwww...
I was close to blacking out myself because I too had used a lot of energy but was trying my best to keep my breathing shallow & calm.
Frankly I was amazed it worked. In the end The Supervisor warned that... cop to leave me alone & I walked out of there a free man.
Why didn't I bring this up earlier? Because of the "Cop Code". It's an agreed upon code all cops adhere to. If there is a reported act of violence in ANY cop/victim relationship then the victim is ALWAYS a liar, PERIOD! End of discussion & thus worthy of violence. I feared for my own safety. Sirs.
To God be the glory! If there is any glory to be had. In the past prayed a whole lot. I just didn't feel led of the Lord to confront the Bad Cop & his Bay City... cop partners in crime, oops, I mean fellow law enforcement professionals.
Lately it wasn't fear that made me wait to write this tale, but prayer. I pray to the Lord often for wisdom in all this & only recently felt led of the Lord to write this tale. My religion forbids fear. So here I am, writing his tale about a career badge-wielding would-be murderer & his career partners in crime. Not for glory, not for revenge, but to tell the truth in the hopes that somehow, some way & might inspire a fair police investigation, and save my life, freedom, & my health. That I might free people who the gang brags are my fellow victims, and that by exposing the gang I might free their future, as yet unborn victims who the gang boasts taking me down will leverage them into targeting for life without the possibility of police reprisal, being that all the formerly "good"... cops signed off on the gang's very existence, thus they will be powerless to oppose the gang when they come for them fool... cops next, & then THIER children.
Bay City's finest... cops... Whatever...
​
Follow-up...
Duh Jerk told me later he heard about the above incident & was furious! He owned one of the... cops present there & they'd leaked it back to him. He claimed he owned The Supervisor who, like many Bay City... cops had standing orders to thwart me whenever possible & to arrest me on any trumped-up charges that might stick. But the... cop had claimed he didn't recognize me & my name had never come up once I'd declined to try to press charges. Plus, he didn't know the gang had recruited that bad cop recently, so he sided against the good cop's weak case right away. Which irritated Duh Jerk all the more because that supervisor was a dirty cop. "And he chose that time to act like an honest cop"? Unacceptable! "I ordered that [Bad] cop to not attack you again". He claimed. The reason being he did not yet own all the... cops who were involved. He noted if I could win a case against the bad cop, it might give credibility to what I'm saying to other... cops. Then he inferred it was too bad for that bad cop if he didn't like me or wanted revenge. He had his chance & he screwed up. So now if f he wanted revenge on me, he could pay for it like everyone else. He declined to mention what he specifically meant there when i asked him.
Me? My opinion? I often told Duh Jerk things like. "Why do you even talk to me? I don't believe a word you say".
Bay City's finest educator... Whatever...
​
​
Nostalgia... I was just feeling nostalgic & thought I'd share... A random weirdism...
Sooooo... I recall the early 70s. I might be there, at the Grande Party, standing watching in the back yard & pondering the universe as it presented itself before me. Almost 20 children were kneeling in stress positions spaced evenly apart between my Mother's Parent's place & the 2 houses next door in the summer heat & wet from the humidity, sweat, & the morning dew. They had their hands behind their heads behind their heads & the adults, the ones I've nicknamed the Grande Party Regulars are watching them & hitting them with sticks & kicks combined whenever any of them even slightly drops their rigid posture. My siblings were there, they didn't stray far from me, I being the closest thing they had to adult protection at the Grande Party. If I had to guess I think it was for emotional support, they never needed fear anything bad at them parties ever, in fact now that I think about it,they alone need not fear much if anything there, I'm not complaining, I'm glad for them. I don't think I could've beared to watch them treated like everyone else, or like how they treated me.
Stranger? I never endured the stress treatment one time though it was applied enmass a few times a year every year, but never this many children at once again.
As a Reader you might ask me why, why were those children kneeling, why were they wet from sweat & the morning dew, & why were they being beaten? Lastly you might ask (I'm guessing here) where were these children's parents? Your answers are that I was wondering the last part too. Where were their parents?
I remember standing & watching the goings on, & while the Regulars & their friends relished beating the children & mocked & laughed at their targets for hours for their slightest lapse in posture or complaint of the heat, the insects, or the pain.
Why was I standing there, watching the goings on? Was it some perverse delight, did I get my kicks from watching it too like some of the people behind me on the many picnic tables did at the abnormally large Grande Party (not that huge, but it was in greater attendance than normal, unusual, but happened as attendance varied from day to day as a rule)? God forbid & I felt for the people. It's called empathy, a few mid-Michigan... cops should look up the word, I find them mostly void of the subject entirely when it concerns me, the Author of this website.
So why was I standing there & watching that day? Well, usually I never watched, I found watching the group sessions distasteful. But today several of the adult friends of the missing parents had all agreed to beat me up for what was happening to their friend's kids. They'd tried to surround me & I'd narrowly avoided being hurt a few times. I found they seemed to be scared of the Regulars. So I stood near them. The weird part? I'd bet if the Regulars, who hated me to the last member with an undying hatred, if the regulars knew they'd have helped them. But these new recruits didn't know that, or so they'd told me in so many words. Thus I hung out near the Regulars, standing there, because sitting invited attack as adults & teens had been pretending to walk by me & attacked, insisting I was lying when I complained. Scary when you consider that if my family saw them attack me a gauntlet would've formed the moment My mother
While this punishment scenario didn't happen often one might call it a regular thing, though the groups being thus inflicted usually numbered less than a dozen as a rule & could be a monthly or bi-monthly ordeal many a spring, summer, and fall in the 60s & 70s from what I saw.
Where were their parents? Why was this happening to them you might still be wondering? I'll answer. After a few hours of this the parents arrived back at the Grande Party en-mass on foot from some neighboring property they'd all gone to en-mass at My Cousin's order. Why? For the sin of committing a great crime. You see the kids had been playing a child's game called tag & the adults had joined in. My Cousin was furious because the party had only 1 rule. That they not play with the 1 child considered forbidden, the worst of the worst, the... christian, the goody goody, him... that kid... me, the Author of this website. They often, but not exclusively, called me & addressed me as "The Good Kid". My Cousin was in a rage at so many people ignoring his orders and playing with The Good Kid. Now punishments would begin.
Some parents had pleaded that they had no idea who The good Kid was? They were shocked when the dirty little kid with the greasy hair was pointed at. Me. "We had no idea who The Good Kid was". Some declared.
My Cousin said a few did know, & they should've spoke up.
They said that since everyone was being nice to me & everyone was involved they assumed it was okay today.
My Cousin told them there was only 1 rule for the Grande Party & they all knew it & were now being punished even worse than their children, but away from here, another day, but they were going to follow him right now for a precursor punishment, a little preview of things to come, while their kids were punished in their absence here at the Grande Party.
The adults left & the Regulars, many of whom were told they too would be punished elsewhere, later formed up the children & teen visitors to The Grande Party & put them in stress positions. now hours had passed by.
Where were my family? I was told by them they were in My mother's Parent's House, enjoying the company & the coveted air conditioning.
In my opinion the returning parents seemed flustered & many looked worried. Some cried but were told to quit crying, or else! I overheard them complaining about a woman who was dragged away by Ambulance after a nervous breakdown.
My Cousin told them to not bunch up & all leave at once. They & their children were free to go but only a few could leave right now, the rest were told to wait a while & stagger leaving, lest they been perceived by the neighborhood as leaving the Grande Party all at once. Many of those parents seethed at me from the picnic tables & plotted great hurt on my person. A few huddled with their children & softly sobbed, occasionally looking at me standing there with looks of distain or even pity. I even recall one guy saying it was unfair I alone was unpunished, almost everyone there was being punished, & that he should beat me up now as revenge!
My Cousin told him he was welcome to try. A few of his friends stood up to help him.
Needless to say, these guys had my full attention.
They all backed down when I stood my ground & reasoned with them.
They'd backed down when I complained I was just a kid.
They complained that I should've known better & it was almost immoral I hadn't warned them.
I countered didn't know they had no idea who The Good Kid was, I didn't begin every day by polling the party guests. I had warned the 1st few players & they confirmed it. It hadn't occurred to me to keep warning new players after the first warnings I'd made. I'd warned many & even I thought that since the Regulars were involved it might be a sanctioned event (these happened from time to time, I, being told later that such events were allowed to produce films that would later show I was a liar concerning the gang's outcast treatment of me). Truth is, 99.9999% of the reason was... I was just a kid & it didn't occur to me to keep warning people. I dropped my guard. and I acted like a kid, and people got hurt. Lots of'em.
The defensive adults complained the fun was infectious & there wasn't anything to do in the back yards in the early morning but drink & smoke & talk so the game seemed like fun. Most complained to both My Cousin & I that it was early in the morning still & they were a bunch of family men & women & had their kids there & that's why they were bored. They didn't want the free drugs & booze provided, not at that early of an hour & not in front of their kids, so they played with the kids (remember Readers, there were zero cellphones back then, zero).
This was my life back then. Back in the 70s.
Ahhhh, nostalgia. Thou art a heartless...
I wonder Reader & I ask you this question. Is this a tale of unexaggerated Americana? Is this just another boring, mundane, & typical tale of a boy's life in America Circa the 70s? Is this just another tale of everyday life in the 70's in America? I'm only asking because I have nothing else to compare it to?
The Last snitch teased me once. Not about this weirdism, but about the gang's treatment of me in general, he was complaining about Duh Jerk's & mine's body counts & why his body count was morally superior to ours decades after the above weirdism. He angrily said while beating his car dash , door, & roof while driving down the dark highway of I-75. "YOU THINK THIS IS LIFE! YOU THINK THIS IS NORMAL! THIS ISN'T LIFE! THIS ISN'T NORMAL! LIFE IS SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER THAN THIS! BUT YOU ARE TOO STUPID TO KNOW ANY BETTER BECAUSE WE'VE MESSED WITH YOU YOUR ENTIRE LIFE"!
Were the words of The Last Snitch true?
​
​
Usually u·su·al·ly [ˈyoÍžoZH(É™w)É™lÄ“] adverb
usually (adverb)
-
under normal conditions; generally:
"he usually arrives home about one o'clock"
"I recall Bad Cop straining against my hold on him in the middle of that Bay County Law Enforcement Center room to grab his holstered pistol. He managed to barely touch it a few times, but at no time could leverage free from my hold on him enough to grasp his gun. He spent the better part of 2 minutes slipping & sliding with his slick shoes on that linoleum floor in vain". - David A. George
Me? My opinion? It is not my intention to judge Bad Cop here, he'll face his final judgement one day. My opinion is, looking back that i panicked. If only I had stuck to the truth from the beginning, damn the consequences.
But truth be told I'm just not in a place in my mind on every given day to begin a life sentence. I'm not in a position to come up with the perfect plan every time every place for every occasion. In short... I was weak & my solution lacked honor. I just wanted to escape, i just wanted to live free, even if it was only for the amount of time it might take me to leave the building. Freedom... yeah, freedom...
My bad...
Blaming others for one's own shortcomings is a weak copout in my opinion, no pun intended, & it is not my intention to blame anyone else here at this time.
Trivia: It's only trivia to add that no one besides myself that I'm aware of ever used the term "Grande Party" even once.
I was told the gang had a name for that type of party, but it'd been agreed by all that I alone not be told what that title was.
---------->>>
Did I pray before I went into the... copshops to (vainly) try to file Police Reports?
Yes. More often than not. But not as often as I should have in my humble opinion.
I asked them... cops to consider that using then modern film technology that it was possible I shot people, but the gang had simply turned the camera off for it, or... they chose to NOT show those genius sentinels of the public's trust any films that included any murders.
They basically told me that was impossible, they watched a stack of films for hours & no one got hurt, so I was obviously a liar.
No one got hurt but me, right? I pointed out. A small child that I was then.
NO, BUT I'M SURE THEY'RE ETHICAL....
Sooooo... this happened a few times. It was a response to my query about being dismissed because the... cops in question told me... they saw... "the films" of me shooting guns endlessly as a child.
So I asked them to describe the film's content & surprisingly, they did.
They told me they saw an hours long film of me being slapped lucid, then a guy would hand me a gun (usually a child), & tell me. "Shoot that gun" & point to a target. So I did. BANG! Whereupon they'd take the gun away, load a single round into the revolver chamber or large capacity magazine & do it all over again. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. SLAP! BANG! Reload. And so on...
Often, but not always, there was a uniformed & on duty Michigan State Police Officer there standing guard e ither watching the whole thing or guarding the door & flirting with the children who we always there as guards too.. Ranging from Kinnie Garden to teen jocks & ages in-between. Normally 6-12 of'em. Sometimes I would go outside & notice their marked Michigan State Police Cars sitting either out front of the building or in the parking lot where the adults often sat Spring, Summer, & Fall gambling under a picnic table with a parasol.
I was appalled. This was why they were dismissing me? Note, I used the word "they" indicating multiple occasions I was dismissed by... cops at their posts.
I had to ask how it was possible they thought I didn't shoot anyone? Especially when you considered the films they personally had seen?
They told me because they saw hours of films & no one got hurt. Thus, I was a liar. Case close, you can leave the copshop now sir.
I was incredulous! I had to ask. "What do you think people who make kids shoot guns all day while drugged do with the rest of their day when they're not at work"?
The... cops unfailingly look at me with bland looks and said. "I don't know but I'm sure it's ethical".
I tried to inspire an investigation noting I was slapped for hours on film. doesn't that warrant an investigation"?
No. the... cops told me. The gang had films of them paying me for it. "Do you have the films" They asked?
I said no.
Do you know any of their names?
No.
Do you have any witnesses?
No.
Then you have no case.
I pointed out the obvious. But I have you as a witness. I said vainly. Yeah Reader, I was THAT stupid. I asked them... cops if they would testify on my behalf later if I could inspire a court date somehow?
They told me no. The most popular rebuttal was "You were on drugs". The gang told them I let them torture me for the money to buy drugs & they weren't getting involved. They trusted the gang.
"You trust guys who slap kids on drugs for hours?
I wouldn't say it like that but I trust them. They seem fairly honorable to me.
You trust guys who slap kids for hours & think people who do that are honorable?
They tell me you're the bad guy here. You're the one shooting the guns.
"But Officer that was my complaint. That they drug me & make me do things".
I wonder if their bland looks come natural to Bay City... cops... troopers... & fedraL ... agENTS or do they practice in a mirror?
Whatever...
​
INFALLIBLE... COP LOGIC!
Mid-Michigan Law Enforcement Logic.
"Your Cousin gave us his word no one was shot & I trust him. I'm an excellent judge of character".
"They gave us their word no one was stabbed (when we played with knives for days & weeks on end) & I believe them".
"Look. I saw the films & no one got hurt so you're obviously lying".
"What do you think people who slap kids & make them shoot guns all day do with the rest of their day when the camera is not on"? I asked them respectfully.
Looking uncomfortable that a child was asking the question (in my humble opinion). "I don't know. But I'm sure it was ethical". We'd been discussing ethics.
Infallible mid-Michigan... cop logic!
"I'm sick of writing this website".
- David A. George 9-6-24
"I saw the films & nobody got hurt so what you say about someone getting hurt is impossible".
I pointed out that the... cop had seen, and admitted to his many on duty peers he'd seen films of me being slapped over & over & made to shoot guns for hours & he admitted it was true... again. Then I retorted.
"No one was hurt but me huh"?
I forget.... yup, most likely doomed.... and doomed while the... cops smile too...
I'm in the midst of a self imposed no writing ban, wonder what it is, check muh diary page 3 for the reasons. Tuhday iz 10-15-24 sue me.
But... it amuses me to write sum anywayzified... Sow... haer goez:
It's why I'm most likely doomedified.
I remeber walking into duh... copshp. The Offscifer dun askified me a question. "What's your name"?
For the record: I'll straight up admit it, I was recently addled by a lengthy gang rape slap fest mind--bending PRACTICAL joke month. I'd dropped a lot of weight (see definitions: projected body dismorphia), came in unsolicited on my own voluntary without external prompting of any sort, unwanted & recently washed & in my humble opinion that... cop's question was a fair question.
How'd I answer that... cop's reasonable question? Like this:
...
I remeber thinking to myself. Comon, I know my name... it's... it's... ummmm... why is this taking so long? I gotta answer... or words to that effect., I couldn't remember my name to win a million dollars.
Time passes, maybe 30 seconds to one minute. That's a long long long time when the question is... What's your name.
Ultimnately the... cop... in front of his copshop front desk uniformed & on duty peers says. ""You can't even say your own name? Now I know you're lying". He explained to me, like usual, liars have zero chance in court, so any case he might bring to bear on my behalf was doomed to failure. He didn't work on cases doomed to failure. That & it proved I came there witrh the intention to lie, it was the only logical explaination.
His peers agreed.
Yeah, I blurted out my name & complained about my ordeal.
Proof I was a liar, I could leave now they tld me.
I tried to reason with them. But I respectfully left when ordered....
Sigh...
​
...
A while ago, actually it's an anuual or bi-annual tyhing now that I write this website. Picture I sit down prepared to write. Maybe it's the story that'll save my life? MAYBE NOT? Who knows? Why? Why is the answer wwho knows?
The answer is who knows because I sat down to write, I recall beig confident about what I planned to write, but when the moment came to actually write... I couldn't remeber what it was I planned to write? So I have no idea if it was the evidence of the century, or just some ransom weirdism, a tale that while true, does not further the author's story. I had & have zero idea.
"You don't remember? That's proof that you are lying".
Who knows? Maybe I recalled the story later & wrote it? Maybe it's still buried there, just below the surface waiting for a subtill clue to jog my memory? Maybe it's a tale that will never come to my active memory again in my lifetime? Worse? What if that human moment came? That mechanical moment when the human mind just straight up plain ole forgets. The horror... the horror... Some of these memories pop up only after a few years wait. I have zero control over it. Call it, the human condition. Or, in case I alone of all m,ankind am thus afflicted call it: My Human conition.
In America you have 3 days when arrested before they charge you. A short trial later & who's going to believe me, some guy trapped by having to tell the truth, who's going to believe me if years later I suddenly say? "Good news. Now I remember".
HUH? I wasn't paying attention... Said the mid-Michigan... cop...
It's 10-15-24 & I can't do any writing, I've taken myself out of the game (for lack of a better description, addled) due to an ongoing R.E.M. sleep deprivation attack.
Still, I thought I'd write some weirdism notes for later. Go figure, huh? Think of them as weirdism shorts. Here goes:
I wrote the stories in better detail in my +1,500-page letter to the FBI where someone is hurt or dies every few pages. Not that they were paying attenti0n...
​
They tortured me for weeks. Wheeling me drugged in a wheelchair on drugs addled by sleep deprivation & lots of rapes. Take me here, gang rape me, take me there, PRACTICAL jokes, then gang rapes. Lots & lots of mundane films of me interacting with Duh Jerks & the 4 Stars, some of the Children of the Gym too. Doped up on their drugs they were my bestest buddies, soon to be backed up with films of me allegedly roofing their homes later, undrugged & drugged to fix holes in the lotsa... allegedly.
Sooooo there I was.... ties to a wheelchair again by fishing line. I used a trick & got free. Rising once the army of Jocks left, I knocked down my guard & turned to the chunky gal, both in their 20s & told her. "Stand right there". Or words to that effect. "I'm not finished with you yet. Then I stomped her partner in crime to death with my steel toe boots.
Then I turned to the gal who bragged for weeks she was going to kill me, to frame me, whatever she could to destroy me,
She screamed.
I flattened her face more than I thought a human head could be flattened without industrial equipment.
​
​
Sooooo... the gang bragged that this rich chunky gal was going to frame me for heinous crimes. She liked to brag on my coming destruction in court. In a moment of time, I became lucid & recalled the horrors she promised me thanks to all the sex films she'd made with me. She'd be the star witness; I was going down & all for killing her best friend a few days ago. Long story short, he threatened me just like she had.
So right there in the presence of the 4 Stars Duh Jerk & their Jock army during a skit, a PRACTICAL joke I slammed her against a table & twisted her neck with all of my laborer might.
Oddly, the Jocks, who like normal I never saw before or again looked shocked & just watched me, seemingly unsure of what to do while I really yanked on her neck with all of my might.
Duh Jerk ordered me be attacked. The Jock army attacked me while I kept yanking, I figured whatever happened to me, she was NOT going to testify against me... or anyone else... ever again. We fought. I lost. She was dead, No head can have their head turned around that much & live.
Later Duh Jerk told me he hoped I'd kill her. Her rich family were the real target & now he didn't have to pay her.
Another snitch told me it'd all happened in Wisconsin. Duh Jerk had leveraged the entire thing to "own" the gal's family & now he was part owner in a mall there, as proof of his power he'd even had the mall named using his own last name & he wanted me to know I'd made it all possible.
​
DISCLAIMER: I wonder how well I wrote? Being R.E.M Sleep Deprived & all. Hey, lucky me, the Wix Spell-Checker seems ta be-a workin tuhdayz... goez figurez huh? As a Dirty Prosecutor, Dirty... cop, or Lazy... cop there's no need to thank me, my addled mind was glad to give you all the ammo you needed to destroy any 20 good men, let alone humble me.
<<<------
Wix, your spell checker sucks!
