WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE FOOLING??? Apparently, no one... Sirs.

  I had... cops tell me, many times. "I saw the films. You're not fooling anyone". "I saw the films. You're just lucky they [the gang] wouldn't give them to me or your CENSORED* would be in jail. Who do you think you're fooling"?

  I'd like to answer that last question Officers. "Who DO I think I'm fooling? Well, after 55 years of banging on the same drum I think it's safe to say I don't think I'm fooling anyone. Sirs".

  I've chosen a song for you, mostly to be symbolic. I wish it was an inspiring song, one of champions saving a lowly person such as myself. But no, the law-enforcement agencies of my life would not suffer me to do me justice on my behalf in the least amount in my entire life. 1 can draw 1 of 2 conclusions.

  1) I've never been wronged in my entire life. Police & Law-Enforcement are spot on, being that I've never been wronged in my entire life in the least they have unerringly done their jobs to a tremendous scale of excellence by NOT investigating my claims. If this is true (in YOUR mind) then... "you the man". Good job oh ye... cops of mid-Michigan & those who accept the word of the... cops from the rapingest & most corrupt place place in America.

​

  2) I've been wronged a lot. There's a powerful rape gang where I come from & they've got powerful badges to protect them with a slew of government jobs that render them above reproach. I'm their recruiter & when they do away with me legally YOU'RE next. How? Because that's how it works. As soon as you sign on their "No Rape Gang Here" con you & yours are easy victims, you cant calim victimhood. Their plan is infallible they brag. It may suck to be me, but if YOU take me down it'll suck to be you too. Maybe sooner, maybe later (they like waiting a year or so to strike I'm told) but YOUR day is a coming. Thus sayeth their "recruiter".

​

  Just who DO I think I'm fooling? No one. But to amuse myself through the fog of bodily pain inflicted upon me on 4-16-21 I've decided to choose a song JUST FOR YOU oh ye skeptic lazy, idiot, & dirty,... cops.

  Don't say I never gave you anything. Enjoy.

​

​

​

  P.T.S.D. IT'S NOT JUST FOR WAR VETS... Welcome to my world...

  Sooooooo... there I was, likely in the hallway of a Bay City Public School who knows where (I'm guessing by the architecture, In "cOPSPEAK guess's are MANDATORY but ultimately proof one is lying, just ask ANY mid-Michigan... cOP)?

  I was handcuffed & less then half lucid, barely able to comprehend speech let alone engage in conversation or basic ethics with Duh Jerk & several of his Jocks who were there. The Jocks restrained me by holding my arms handcuffed behind me. The scene was strange only in that the 4 Stars were not to be seen (a rarity). Duh Jerk commented.

  Duh Jerk said he'd had enough of me. Inside the windowless room the Jocks were about to throw me into were about 10 men, about my age all ready to kill me. They'd been well-paid &^ inspired to kill me by the gang's many "films". Today I would die as 10 men was too much, even for me. I could fight back if I wanted to. But... it mattered not because today I would die.

  The ever-smiling Duh Jerk & I exchanged insults (typical) & he ordered me uncuffed & thrown inside the room. The young men inside seemed pumped & ready for battle.

  Then the Jocks hurled me inside! They locked the door.

  The men menaced me... & started to cautiously come at me.

  Me? I looked around for an improvised weapon, anything. I saw one by the door. An aquarium was next to the door. So I grabbed a cloth & broke the glass. Luckily, a large piece was forthcoming. So I wrapped one end in the cloth & ran at the men! I flying kicked one center mass & he went down. Then I stabbed & slashed with my improvised blade. Blood was everywhere & it took the men 30 seconds to a minute to organize a defense against me. Guy after guy was slashed down. I went for the throat when possible & it was this injury that dropped the most. Once they grappled me I found going for their wrists was easier & cut a few!

  A guy or 2 (3 & 4 actually) tried to fashion improvised blades from the aquarium & I figured I was a goner when I saw them do it. Their 1st few attempts were unsuccessful. The glass simply shattered in their hands as they came at me. Their 1st "success" was a guy who came at me with the improvised blade held waist level in an outstretched hand. His pals all backed off so as to let him have a go at me (thus breaking the stalemate of the hold we were all in) so I turned around & easily swift kicked it. Sending it flying & it broke! The other guys came at me one by one while the blade makers seemed to fiddle with available cloth scraps to make another blade. Finally they made a few blades & came at me. The glass of the aquarium they salvaged shattered in battle from casual taps (how my piece remained intact I have no idea). This was an important stage in the fight as some of their best guys were fiddling with cloth scraps & wasting time while their friends were dying one by one. In my heart I dreaded the thought one might just take off his shirt, wrap some glass, & then they could all come at me in seconds. But it didn't happen (just a bonus "dread" that inhabited the corner of my mind).

  They got my "blade" from me when we all stalemated over control of it. I could feel my strength fading as I battled the 4 guys for it & I wasn't going to win it & I knew it. So I let go of the blade. In the moment everyone tried to grab it I pushed them off & positioned the fight over it. I couldn't grab it, but neither could they. We fought above the blade from then on.

  Guy after guy dropped! We wrestled & fought for a long while. One of the guys took himself out of the fight when he picked up my "blade" & attacked with no cloth to protect him from the sharp edge. At this point he stabbed his own guys as much as at I. He messed up his hands badly in exchange for virtually no damage on me or anyone else. Soon he was a bloody mess who's hands no longer worked.

  At one point...

  Me? I wrestled & fought the 3 guys and one at a time they succumbed to their injuries. I'm not one for talking in a fight, much, except to gain a psychological advantage against a foe. I'd been silent up & until now. I teased the self-inflicted guy unmercifully. Of course he messed himself up, he should've used a towel.

  He complained I had it. He couldn't get to it so in desperation he attacked with his hands unprotected.

  Me? I teased him he could've taken off his shirt, wrapped the glass in it,  & I'd be dead by now. But this was as the fight became just him his pal & I. I teased them about their plan to kill me.

  They retorted. Duh Jerk had paid them to menace me & look scary. Not to fight. The fight stopped.

  Me? I suggested that they were dead men. We should band together & fight our way out of the windowless classroom because they were not going to be allowed to live after this.

  The men agreed & the door opened immediately.

  A wave of fresh Jocks poured in with the 4 Stars.

  Yeah, we fought. I fought. I lost.

  Duh Jerk promised the formerly giddy employees a great punishment was coming for siding with me & against him.

  They prepared a syringe at Duh Jerk's order. Fade to black...

  Time passes...

  Tick... tick... tick...

  The gang sends it's "obligatory snitch" to me. They are there to act like the friend within the gang, an informant I'd always wanted. Too bad I never trusted a single one of them enough in my entire life to solicit knowledge from any of them. Add the fact that they disgust me & I simply don't care how friendly & helpful any of them are, they are sinners in my religion no better or worse than I, Children of God, Heirs to a Royal Heavenly Estate, but their deeds sicken me & I want nothing to do with them. I never wanted their money, their drugs, or their whores (and there's not a single gang member OR... cop who hasn't call me a liar on this, not a one, EVERYONE wants to be one of them, EVERYONE likes them, it's unfathomable to contemplate otherwise)

  Sooooooo... there I was, likely in the hallway of a Bay City Public School who knows where (I'm guessing by the architecture, In "cOPSPEAK guess's are MANDATORY but ultimately proof one is lying, just ask ANY mid-Michigan... cOP)?

  I was handcuffed & less then half lucid, barely able to comprehend speech let alone engage in conversation or basic ethics with Duh Jerk, The 4 Stars, & several of his Jocks who were there. The Jocks restrained me by holding my arms handcuffed behind me.

  Duh Jerk said something like. "Oh. You're with us". Commenting that I'd just become momentarily lucid. Smiling he had something to share. He had a room of about 10 guys who I was going to kill for him.

  Me? I refused.

  Duh Jerk laughed & pointed out all he had to do was wait for my memory to reset. They they'd wait for a lucid moment & have the Jocks throw me in & he'd order me to kill the men & I would.

  Me? I expressed doubt about killing 10 men.

  Duh Jerk reminded me of The Gym & said he was pretty sure I could.

  The ever-smiling Duh Jerk & I exchanged insults (typical) & he ordered me uncuffed & thrown inside the room. The young men inside seemed aware I had entered the room but did little more than look at me & most remained seated.

  Me? I looked around the room & noted all the guys had eye contact with me but one, the biggest. So I pulled out my knife & cut his throat! Blood gushed everywhere! The men cussed & the battle was on. 

  I lasted maybe 30 seconds (and did very little if any damage) & the guys subdued me & while restraining me asked me why I attacked them?

  Me? I told them it was because Duh Jerk ordered me to kill them. We chatted quickly & I explained the drugs & the gang's M.O. against me. They were quite angry about the guy I'd killed. But we didn't chat long before the gang came back in force.

  Duh Jerk came in, the 4 Stars & his obligatory army of Jocks. Yeah, he'd ordered me to kill them. He expressed great disappointment that I'd only killed one & not even lasted a minute. A very poor showing on my part. None of that mattered anyway because he was going to apply the date-rape drug & erase everyone's memories but mine & his.

  WOW! Were his guys angry! Oddly, so was Fagboy. He wanted no part of a memory erase. He refused a direct order. When Duh Jerk threatened his Jocks would brake his legs & then drug him if he didn't take the drug now he gave in.

  The hired hands were furious & a few promised revenge on Duh Jerk AND me, over the death of their good friend, allegedly the coolest guy in the group.

  Duh Jerk mocked them. They would remember none of this & the death of their friend would be explained to them as a car accident. Tragic, but these things happen.

  The date I wrote this is 8-13-21 & I'm in pain from their many tortures & horrors inflicted upon me.

  Sigh...

​

ANOTHER SONG FOR... SKEPTICS... You know who you... cops are... My gift to you...

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIsK-hbhObk     Don't say I never gave you anything...

​

  A "SNITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE... Child-Molestors..."

  Soooooooo... there I was, multiple times, minding my own beeswax, & a "snitch" oh so very "luckily" presents themselves. Typical on typical textbook snitch story too. He or she likes me, they are ALWAYS smaller than I (to facilitate a quicker beatdown if I (or my fellow victims) ever become provoked (antagonized, irritated, frustrated, or just plain old stupid enough to fight), & always want to be my friend & tell me the "goods", fill in the blanks so I can take down the hated members of the gang (for the record I may have slung the "hate" word around a bit much in my youth, but "strong dislike" would be a better description) for either friendship with them as a prize or simply revenge as a goal (revenge for both of us, they always have a sob story of mistreatment by the gang, believable, as they ARE in fact a pack of jerks full time, in MY humble opinion).

  Soooo... picture me, alone on a walk or who knows where (always alone, always always), the "snitch approaches, attempts to debrief me, & lays friendship or revenge as their goal.

  Yawn...

  I don't buy it one bit. But when I was 7 or 8 I'd quit even talking to snitches. I told them & my distressed "Cousin" that I didn't believe a word they said, so why even bother talking to me?

  My Cousin countered one day with. "I'm think of ordering your Mother to make you hear out every one of my snitches". The he walked away (eventually). It's trivia to note My Cousin always loved to mock that one day I'd have to testify on my own behalf. It's during the cross-examination where their scripted events & pre-practiced & rehearsed jokes based on events are sure to have the jury roaring in the isles in laughter & I could go down easily just like ALL his other victims. As a mid-Michigan... cOP even the concept of this no doubt hurts your "delicate" head (based on past interviews with you officers).

  Me? I pondered the situation before me at My Mother's Parent's house. I had to do something. The... cOPS were useless. I surely didn't want to be a fool in cross-examination. So I hatched a plan. Knowing the 5th Amendment I decided I'd talk to "Snitches" (note the use of a capital letter denoting a job title & not a hobby). Then by talking at end I'd have an interrogative story I could write to do the talking for me.

  As the years passed I stuck to the plan, I didn't care for the plan but until I could come up with a better plan a bad plan was better than no plan.

  Go figure huh?

​

THE EYES HAVE IT... SADLY...

  Soooooooooo... there I was, standing in what I suspect was some gymnasium that the gang went to great lengths to act like was a cattle auction house. It had a cheering crowd of fans in bleachers they had set up & 4 set up walls that formed an arena of sorts. Men died there, some men's lives were forever changed there. It was a place Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars bragged they offered to pay the man standing before myself & the self-professed "Sheriff" & his 2 self-proclaimed "Deputies" who were armed with shotguns. Various "owners paraded their "slaves", people of varying colors whom they "owned" as one might own a fighting fish or a fighting cock & were forcing to fight for both their amusement & profit while they bet on the coming matches outcome. I don't recall if it was before or after the huge black man wearing a yoke between fights & I escaped or after. It's irrelevant I'd guess for this tale. After all... who do I think I'm fooling? Right? Ask any mid-Michigan... cop. There's bad people like I'm describing all over the place in this country, America, but no one knows who they are, least of all me, this website's author. Who do I think I'm fooling? Right? 50+ years of complaining & banging on the same drum of accusation? That only means I'm a dedicated liar, again, just ask ANY mid-Michigan... cop. Yup, the bad guys are out there & they are gonna catch'em soon, but I don't know a single one of them. They're positive. How positive? They'll bet my life on it. Sadly, they'll bet your kid's life on it too. Ask me, anyone, anyone feel free to ask me. You want proof? I'll introduce them into you life. I've never had a single (spitooey!)... cop skeptic accept THAT challenge. But I'm whining off course here, time to get back on track.

  Soooooooo there I am, facing off against some blonde dude about my age & build in the makeshift arena as a prisoner, slave, call it what you will. The 4 Stars & Duh Jerk stand with their dozen Jock army ready to pounce should I try to escape again & with the full help of much of the crowd as I'd only recently painfully learned. This was the man I would be fighting to the death. Him. The only rules were there were no rules. The Sheriff gave instructions we were to begin killing each other at his signal.

  Sooooo we waited...

  Time passes...

  Tick...

  Tick...

  Tick...

  Yeah, I prayed. I prayed a lot that day. I prayed for wisdom, I PRAYED FOR STRENGTH, I prayed I might escape this arena & live... somehow... This is what happened.

  I hatch a plan standing there.

  The Sheriff stood slightly crouched over ready to spring aside at a moment's notice with his palm extended & elbow slightly bent. He lifted his hand & signaled the fight begin!

  Me? I made a lazy slap with my left hand aimed at the eyes of the man who was no prisoner & he blocked it... just as I intended. Then with his vision slightly obscured I launched an attack with my right hand with my fingers split into a "V shape" for his eyes. I thought I might just blur his vision as I'd so often done in the past but my attack landed squarely into his eyes & I poked both of them out!

  The man dropped to his knees, his trainer, friends, & family rushed out to tend to him. As I recall it through the drug haze & the deprivation no one there was happy (except the always smiling madmen who brought me). They wanted to see some great fight, not 1 second of action they all missed reaching for popcorn. The family was furious with me & they, like everyone in my life that day, wanted to fight me for what I'd done. What I felt was I could rest. My energy reserves were tapped out, my every move a metered & measured move in an attempt to conserve energy in the impossible hope that I might somehow survive this. A quick win meant I had more energy to face the next guy, to try and escape, to plead with anyone who'd listen for my life, & the lives of my fellow slaves between matches. Sigh...

  Did I feel bad for the guy? Slightly, I'm not made of stone. But if it was I who was dying on that floor like he promised me how would he have been looking down on me? Would he have spent the $5-$10,000 on noble deeds or what? Idano? Did it matter? It was over. The guy rotated about his waist in agony, quickly accepting what was to be the rest of his life. The Sheriff & the Deputies held the family & friends back, eventually.

  The man rotated, writhed for a few minutes & then regained his composure. He then tried to have me killed based on many rules he insisted I'd broken. The Sheriff & the crowd were quite firm with him, it'd been a fair fight, & he'd lost. Fair & square.

  The man begged & pleaded for my death. He wanted me dead as revenge. He'd pay to have me killed, if anyone there would accept an I.O.U. from a blind man. They laughed at the idea & turned him down even when he shouted the offer into the crowd of killers, modern day slavers, & recreational killers.

  I think it was the Sheriff who offered the man revenge 1st. Since he was otherwise unhurt why not try & fight me? Who knows? He might just win & get the revenge he wanted? The Sheriff said with a big smile. "Take a blind man's I.O.U.? On what you're about to make? No one here is going to take that". He laughed while the crowd laughed with him. The Sheriff mocked the man that he could expect a life of low wages & government checks at best & no one would want his chicken feed money.

  The blonde dude accepted his challenge.

  Me? I protested. I'd won. Me killing this man was pointless, especially since I'd won. He's blind. They couldn't just take away the win.

  The Sheriff announced we'd fight & insisted we make ready. He would give the man instructions saying "left" or "right" so the man could find me.

  Yeah, it goes without saying he had to threaten me to fight... again.

  I pondered resisting. My energy reserves were just so low & the list of guys they expected me to fight was so long. Sigh...

  So we stood ready.

  People bet.

  The Sheriff signaled the fight begin again & the man lunged for me!

  Me? I just backed off & dodged.

  The Sheriff said left.

  I went right.

  The Sheriff said right.

  I went left & uttered not a word. Like usual.

  Soon the crowd giddily joined in. Slowly at 1st but soon it was nearly everybody.

  The assembled crowd would yell left.

  So I went right.

  The assembled crowd yelled right.

  So I went left.

  In minutes the crowd was angry. Oh so very angry. The family & the trainer were angry. Even the Sheriff was frustrated & ordered me to kill the man or I would be killed & he would win.

  Me? I just dodged left or right while the blind man swung into empty air.

  The crowd was fighting mad!

  The Sheriff stopped the fight & Duh Jerk's team, the blind man's team & the Deputies all assembled in the center.

  The Sheriff wanted me to fight. Fight or be beaten.

  Me? I wanted no part of it. I refused. "You do what you gotta do". Is what I usually said in those sort of situations. Cops note my choice of words here, "usually".

  Members of the crowd jumped in and angrily suggested the 2 of us have our wrists tied together so I couldn't escape the blind man.

  I protested. I won the fight. I was announced the winner & now had to fight? I pointed out no one else got rematches if they recovered after a fight & certainly not with wrists lashed to the guy they just wupped to limit movement. The way I saw it the fight was over, & the blind man had lost.

  The Sheriff looked deep in thought & he declared the fight over.

  The blind man protested. He'd been promised revenge. This was an outrage!

  The Sheriff pointed out the man had a fair chance at revenge. He failed. If he wanted he could come back in 6 months or a year & assuming I won (which would be the ONLY way I'd live through this) & assuming I was there next year the man could re-challenge me then. Until then he had all year to work out & prepare for our next fight.

  The blind guy, the man who promised my death then & there & did everything in his power to facilitate it was led away by his family & trainer. They just turned & left.

  Oops, almost left out that the family attacked me, angered at what had become of their once proud son. No glory, no honor, just some mom, a stereotypical everyday-looking mom dressed in a jacket she crocheted (she told me as much when we chatted while she bragged on the subject of how her son would kill me in the arena, here, now & claim the bounty on my death for the family). The mom put up the fiercest fight, the mom, I just blocked while the... cops pulled the family off me at a time. Dad, & 2 or 3 adult siblings. Sigh... no glory, no honor, just some evil irate mom who wanted revenge, a woman who accuse me of breaking "the rules", tried her best to get me killed for breaking the rules she held in so high a regard, then violated their rules of not interfering, by attacking one of the fighters. just some satanic lady, she'd boasted as much. What a waste... all of it... I hope she repents; I do not relish seeing her or anyone there that day going to Hell. I hope they all repent, those who can, before it's too late.

  The Sheriff took out the time there to insult me there just loud enough that I'll bet the witnesses on the floor heard it. He lamented that the blind man had been a great warrior (in HIS opinion) & that he wanted to give him a warrior's death & spare him the humiliation of the life of a blind man. That in his opinion I should've killed the man for reasons of honor so he could die a warrior's death.

  Me? I figured if he wanted executions I wasn't on his payroll to do so. I was a kidnap victim, fresh from weeks of deprivation, torture, & not his honor executioner. My energy was running out & I had to conserve every scrap of it for the challenges the gang bragged were to come that day (or so it was literally WRITTEN on the posted Score Board above us for all to see).

  To God be the glory for my survival as I suspect that without him I would not have survived that day. Frankly, I would not have survived many of my encounters with the gangland stalkers who can pretend to be my former friends, jilted lovers, guardians, employers, & partners in crime. Any... cOPS reading this? The "Films" have worked infallibly on ALL of you law enforcement professionals up & until now (8-26-21 when I wrote this). All... 

  all /ôl/ predeterminer · determiner · pronoun

1. used to refer to the whole quantity or extent of a particular group or thing.

   "all the child-molesters &... cops I met" (a group with serious overlap issues in MY opinion)

   adverb

2. 1.

   used for emphasis.​

3. 2.

   (in games) used after a number to indicate an equal score.

   "after extra time it was still two all"

  noun

1. the whole of one's energy or interest.

   "giving their all for what they believed"

  Idano... what do you say there about that situation? I mean it, what DO you say... there? About what happened on that floor? What? What do you say when people see the film footage edited to show me, out of context, again, doing who knows what to yet another victim while the heroes of "The Gym" stand by watching? Well Reader? What? What words will free me? What words will prompt a Police investigation? What words will sway an angry jury in the "Court of Cop Opinion" (a term Duh Jerk taught me) while a team of Prosecutors & Police watch the selected edited films inflicted upon me? What? What do you say? What can I say? Anyone? What?

  Idano... Whatever...

  Yeah, whatever...

​

  YOU GETTIN FAT BOY... You're crazy... Family don't lie... Because no one would do that...

  Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo... there I was. Sitting in school. Bay City Central Rape High.... Oops! I mean Central High School. It's a rapist learning, recruiting, & drug selling center that also pretends to teach children (less & less when measured against children's test scores over the last century). I remember sitting in class. My fellow student, a kid I never saw before & would never see again (Wow! Is that an ongoing theme or what in my tales?) called me a name. A routine thing really. Mundane even. Snitches in the gang boast they are there to keep the pressure on me & to make it seem safe & even "cool" to insult & attack me. Why? BECAUSE THE STUDENT BODY PRETTY MUCH HAD LITTLE TO NO HATRED OF ME. I was far from the picked on driven into depression isolated child the gang wanted. Oh, to talk to me or to try & befriend me meant instant & often brutal reprisal from the gang. But you'd be surprised just how little my fellow students seemed to want to interact with me. So said "brutal reprisals" were reported to be far & few between at best (not like middle school where they were the gang's business of the day as revenge for the... wait for it... wait for it... revenge for the horrors THEY, the gang faced in... "The Gym". RECAP: I wasn't popular, I wouldn't hang with the popular child-molestors, & frankly I felt pretty good about it.

  The name? The kid said I was getting fat. I later looked in the mirror & figured he was right & resolved to change that.

  It's only trivia to add, to amuse myself, not to inform, that many many of the gang, Duh Jerk & The 4 Stars boasted to me it was how the gang drove their young victims to suicide. They brought in ringers & tough guys to insult their victims. Encouraged the victim's fellow students to join in & by ostracizing a student & relentlessly hounding them drove them to the brink. They whined that I acted crazy (Author note: Purely as a defense, note my choice of the word "acted") & everyone was afraid to fight me. As for hounding me it required large amounts of Jocks to keep me in line. Too large. Lots of kids allegedly knew (if so they hid the subject from me well overall) & no one, for whatever reason, be it I was buried in ignominy or they just didn't care simply didn't want to mess with me... or help me if needed (the flip side of the "act crazy so they'll quit attacking me defense").

  Recap: Some kid had called me fat. It barely register on my insulto-radar (likely because of the sheer amount of insults I was dealt by the gang inside the school & outside). Yawn...

  The next day I recall waking up & My Buddy & I went to school. My skinny jeans seemed to fit today & frankly I thought nothing of it or the temperature change to wintry conditions that fall day.

  The day at school seemed uneventful in the 1st hour or 2. Ho hum.

  Some kid I'd never seen before & would never see again called me skinny. Too skinny, he could beat me up.

  Me? I laughed.

  A "snitch" approached me in the hall on my way to the bathroom. He challenged me to recall that I'd just spent the last month, month & a half as the gang's travelling sex toy/ prisoner in a mental ward?

  Me? Faint recollections bubbled to the surface. Me? Often I rapidly tire of the gang's "obligatory snitches". Mostly because I cant believe a word they say. He said Duh Jerk "owned" my family. They'd had me committed & tortured me like usual. Torture being pain & mental anguish inflicted followed by use of the date rape drug. A torture designed to break down a victim's subconscious (Jerk & the 4 Stars preferred mode of revenge on guys they tried to kill for 100 days & yet survived "The Gym"... publicly). In the end Duh Jerk had decided to simply kill me by starvation & put my body on display, drugged, where he acted as a Shot Caller for the gang. Running the day to day business of a drug-dealing child-porn ring bent on a never ending quest for revenge against a list longer than just my name (much to the befuddlement of every single mid-Michigan... cop I ever met).

  I just blew the snitch off. Then went to the bathroom & pondered my recent life.

  Then... "it happened". I walked past the mirror in the bathroom. There I was, the kid who'd just been called "fat" yesterday & agreed during an honest self-assessment. There I was, skinny as a rail. Not just skinny, the word emaciated, near death from starvation applied. I was in shock. Why? In part because I worked out, often, a lot, bunches, & now here I was near death. I realized to my horror I'd rushed out of the house quickly in the morning. Never looked at a mirror, never considered just how many holes I'd skipped when putting on my belt. I'd passed my Mother & My Buddy & many students & no one had mentioned my weight loss. No one.

  Sooooooo I went about my day. The "snitch" reunited with me. He said everyone had been told not to mention my weight loss. My fellow students had been ordered not to talk to me... or else.

  Yeah, I recalled the month. They locked me up someplace. Wouldn't feed me, & wouldn't let me sleep. They hounded me all day & all night with a single announced bragged upon goal. To get me to attack them on film so as to prove I was a violent madman so they could lock me away for life. I recalled spending the month travelling to rape sites by night, being attacked & provoked all day & all on film while smiling madmen & teen "patients" my age endlessly tried to provoke me for camera positioned at various angles to record half the story. I'd resolved to take nearly any amount of abuse to not give them the footage they craved. The snitch boasted they didn't get the violent films that time, but the edited films of me being beat up & provoked for months were fantastic films that proved I was a gutless wimp & that... in his & the words of every other snitch (& Duh Jerk AND the 4 Stars) & that "The Gym" couldn't have possibly happened. After all, if I was "tough enough" to have survived The Gym I would never let them wimps push me around. It's only cop logical? Right? Yeah, I'd prayed. An atheist off the drugs, a Christian on their drugs. Me? An atheist? It may be that I was the only one I was fooling? Looking back I don't think I could've survived without prayer & without the grace & miracles from God. Period! To God be the glory as I wasn't strong nor clever enough to survive that ordeal without him. Thanks God.

  Eh, so I put myself on a strict & very high calorie diet & put on weight rapidly. Another snitch showed up & said it was Duh Jerk himself who'd bought My Mother a camera & insisted she take pics of Xmas. The theory being it wasn't the 8,000-10,000 calorie diet I was on that made my Xmas physique, it was lies about that fall that I wore & and any attempt to say otherwise was just another filmed lie I'd be caught in.

  "No expense has been prepared to make you out to be a liar".

  "Why me"? Eh, I had to ask, not that I ever believed any gang bangers.

  "It's revenge because of The Gym".

  The entire tale is described in much more detail in my 1,500+ page letter to the F.B.I. in which someone dies every few pages.

  Who do I think I'm fooling oh ye wise, skeptic, & dirty... cops who may be reading this? My answer? No one Sirs. No one at all. May I also add that the story has the power to raise interest nor investigation from anyone unless it will be found to be 100% true & exaggeration-free to the best of my ability.

  Sigh...

​

TO THE POINT... Why even bother with a long-winded explanation? 

  Soooooooo... there I was.... talking with a self-professed "snitch". Yet another guy allegedly sent by Duh Jerk &there to help me 'if you go to the cops I'll send them the films framing Duh Jerk'. Yeah... right.

  Sooooooooo.... he brought up the busted aquarium. "Do you know why the aquarium was there?

  I alleged it was Duh Jerk's fondness for aquariums.

  "No". He said it was because the last room filled with guys I'd killed I'd begun it by smashing a classroom fish tank & fashioning a makeshift blade using a towel & a conveniently-sized dagger-shaped piece of aquarium glass & began killing everyone in the room. So this time they'd deliberately made sure a small tank was by the door when I went in along with a small towel. Of the 10 young men inside 4 were loyal gangbangers. Their job was to use the strips of towel there & stall for time, insuring no one else would do so. It explained why their makeshift blades so often broke in their hands as they approached the fight. It also explained why they just stood there for the most part. Their job was to stall. The strips of towel were there to give them the illusion of making makeshift weapons while actually being a time-consuming & deliberately fruitless busy work task. So they could prove their courage to the gang up close & personal. All part of their end of high-school initiation/hazing to prove their bravery to the gang.

  Duh Jerk later complained about the men. 4 had been loyal & 2 had disobeyed orders & jumped into the fight when the last few survivors asked them to. "They would be alive to this day if they'd just stayed out of the fight like I ordered them".

  He said I hadn't killed them all. The guy who's eyes I'd poked out & another survivor would die soon enough.

  I asked Duh Jerk what his "thrill" was? What'd he get out of the deaths. Why did he like to kill people so much?

  "I don't get my thrills from killing people. I get my thrills from tricking idiots like you into killing people".

  ...

​

TO THE POINT ADDENDUM:

  Soooooo there I was, but up & strapped face 1st to a table... again in the Bomb Shelter Garages. A place no mischief is possible according to ALL the mid-Michigan law-enforcers I talked to. My pants were around my ankles & after days or weeks of drugs & constant pushing & slaps, (I'm not entirely sure as to the exact elapsed time at the time of this writing) being kept awake by large teams of madmen  was taking it's toll. I was being driven mad, but was still on the trip there, IF you get my drift? Raped over & over by every queer for 10 counties. Many beat me & many more told me stories about how they knew I was straight, thus raping me was entirely moral. Others told me they knew I didn't like queers, thus raping me en-mass was moral. I deserved it for my close mindedness about the queer community.

  One of the rapists, while the drugs on me were fading asked me. Did you ever wonder why we did so many versions of you trying to kill 10 guys in a classroom"?

  No, no I did not I told him. It just seemed like one PRACTICAL joke after another based on a past event. A mundane occurrence. The gang love to re-inflict crime scenes on victims, getting them to re-live crime events over & over while on their drugs so they can film an event & or influence witnesses & control the narrative about a crime ("we got 5 witnesses that all testify the crime THEY SAW didn't go down like you said, thus you, the real victim are a liar, by my infallible... cop deduction superpowers"). Not that I believed him then or now.

  He said it was because of the sheer number of people I'd unexpectedly killed that 1st time. "Remember when you went around the room cutting people's throats with that aquarium glass"?

  Yes I did.

  He said most of the people in the room were their guys in an elaborate PRACTICAL joke on me. That when I'd started slitting throats they were caught off guard & in the time it took to run into the room & stop me I'd killed way too many people.

  "We were in a school in the next room waiting on closed-circuit television". He said most of the guys were their loyal troops in on it, another PRACTICAL joke. :The 1st few guys you killed were our victims". The loyal troops had shoved them into my path, being on drugs that made them weak they were easy targets I quickly dispatched. "The other guys were all our guys & we told them to play dead once you hurt them". He said. "We figured you might kill 1 or 2 guys maybe. But we never thought you'd kill as many people as you did". He described they were all on drugs, 10 foot tall & bulletproof & all eager to prove their courage to their present leaders "The Bosses", guys who like to watch that sort of thing.  He said the problem began when one of them asked what was I doing after the last PRACTICAL Joker fell? The camera angle was poor & it looked like I was going from person to person. "Oh S%^$! He's going around cutting throats"! Then they rushed in. He said the body count was unacceptably high. "1 or 2 guys bled out. We expected that was a possibility. Some of those guys who's kneecaps you busted might never walk normal again". But as I went from man to man slitting the throats of their latest graduating class (all 18 years old he claimed) I'd inflicted too much death for a casual cover-up & had ruined the mood and the party as they all prepaired to ebter the grim "cover-up phase" of the PRACTICAL joke gone bad.

  "So we did that room to you over & over. That way if it ever comes out in court we can produce films that show you're a liar & then we can control the narrative". Forcingh me to re-live the incident over & over, filming it each time for thier assorted revenges & plots & for profit in their snuff films. Now they had films that could prove any number of stories & theories that would one day be sure to make clean, dirty, AND corrupt pROSECUTORS &... cOPS mouths salivate. That I never had a chance against them, I didn't have a chance against them, and that I will never have a chance against them. So far that is true... with only the... cops I've met thus far in my too short a life.

  Go figure huh?