THE DOWNER...
(begun Sunday 25th March at 6.15am..)


I'd been out to feed the birds and pick up the dog's poo, when I discovered that my regular uninvited guest had paid us another visit last night.. *blinks..
This time he'd thoughtfully sealed off some of the recently pruned stems of my roses, using the soft white chalk substance, and had actually left the remaining piece lying next to them.. Was that all he'd done on this occasion? Most likely his orders had included several other works of art, but as it's not likely I'll find them quite so obviously staring me in the face, I shan't be breaking sweat any time soon...
(BTW, if I do bother to seal the roses after cutting, I use my old nail polish that's kept in the fridge, and not some strange white chalk substance...)
Nothing whatsoever to do with you, Balliram?  Are you that simple that you saw raising the wall as some sort of proof you're not involved in the regular illegal access of our property?  *snorts...

LATER at 6.55am

I just went up to fetch the Sunday Times.. Halfway up the last flight of stairs Millie had shrieked in outrage, and I'd stopped cold, muttering aloud.. Turns out it's the same place that frequently jabs me as I pass, and where the little nunu hidden in the rockery kicks off purring, as well... Only this time it wasn't just a jab, but a wall of pain.. Will you check out the precast wall right HERE?  See how all the other sections are bone dry, but just the one opposite me has had something applied to it, from the top down?  I'm betting that judging by Millie's astonishing reaction, that ain't water?
Does he hop over from Freddie's side, having long ago made friends with the Scrabble Player's two animals? Someone that Joyce's agile-looking young son might know of?  Moving on....

Monday 26th March at 3.45am..

How's Freddie the Accountant doing these days?  Still self-employed and working from home, without so much as a squeak of 'tinnitis', or other aches and pains?  With that two or three foot wide splodge of lumo paint surrounding the fat cable that feeds into his upper story, and presumably his 'office', it's a miracle he's not taking strain, though I don't imagine they have to contend with any devastating wireless frequencies pouring into their home, via their power lines...
A few months back I'd asked the Good Man up at No. 16 whether he and his family were feeling any ill-effects from all the wireless in the air and he'd said no, though I suppose all that black one-way glass installed on his mansion deflects much of the crud that's floating about...*winks...

I'd gone up onto the first terrace yesterday morning and moved the sheet of metal away from the precast wall pillar.. There was no point in leaving it there once I'd noticed that the wall next to it had also been 'treated' with the same substance that appeared overnight in the rockery up next to the streetlight cable HERE.  I've no reason to continue searching for the gremlin that bites me so fiercely by the kitchen sink either, for I guess the assaults are coming off that lumo-treated wall, and it's some pretty hectic ju-ju...

My efforts at continuing to delude myself that this is all simply a game, are fading fast.. A team of one seriously short-changed Simpleton, taking on a psychopathic Sadist, with an army of criminals at his beck and call, and a Mentor who created his own Empire flogging banned substances? What was I thinking? *purple...
The temptation to simply stop swearing out loud at Balliram when he sends the worst of the Knives to my head or kidneys, and to simply let him get on with it, is growing...  Has this Labrat finally accepted that there aren't any more corners to run to, and that the box she's trapped in has shrunk, till there's literally no escape?
Oh, be serious, FFS!  *snorts...
I figured that out way back when I first woke to the fact that every nook and cranny of our property was wired for sound...It seemed easy enough back then to pretend it was some sort of game, and to play to the Gallery...
That was of course before the RF Engineer arrived from Joburg, ex-Sentech, with his Pandora's box of killer frequencies, to tutor Professor Crackalot in the finer arts of administering exquisite pain to specific areas...

Are there any wuggers left out there, who continue to venture here purely to rubberneck at this crash site, or did they take the easy route and simply stop visiting? *curious...
It was 3 or 4 days before I finally ventured back to the bblounge forum to see if the political science activist had replied to my lame mail... A deliberate stall on my part, that goes a long way to showing just how insecure I am right now... *sickly grin..
I figure I dreaded that her reply would be dripping with contempt, and I put it off for as long as I could....
Course by now the NIA-affiliated members of bblounge will know that she hadn't replied, and that she never will...
Astonishingly, I'd mopped my wrinkled brow with relief at the sight of my empty Inbox, and told myself that I'd slipped up again, thinking that she continued to frequent that forum, (though that's another lie I told myself, as she will have heard that I'd written...)

I've asked hundreds and hundreds of questions here over the years, pertaining to the Project, and have had very few replies, and I guess this is the most frustrating mystery of all...
What was it that suddenly caused Karl Muller to fall silent, when his educational skills are needed now, more than ever?  Was he threatened that his reputation would never recover if he continued to speak out on mybroadband?  Was it something that was whispered into his ear by a regular from mybb, who claimed to support the Rocket Scientist? Bearing in mind that every 'private' message ever written on that Forum is available to the Telecom's Strategist for his perusal?

It's now 5am, and my Controller's neaby nunu has been squeaking off and on against the stiff breeze that's come up..
Hell, I've been in dark places before, and have survived to continue telling you the truth..  Can I do it again and claw my way out of this pit to gibber on aimlessly, or is it time to curl up into a ball and call it quits?
The fat dog was barking out on the front lawn last night, with enough urgency to get me off my butt to go investigate... She had what looked like a green glow-worm on the lawn and was yapping furiously at it... By the time I'd fetched the torch it had vanished completely, and she'd moved away... More magic, Laserman? *fascinated...

LATER at 7.15am

I climbed back aboard Cloud 9 just after 5am, and was allowed to lie there until I became aware that both my legs were vibrating at 5.45am..*blinks.. I didn't move or change position, but the sensation of my blood simmering on medium was very real....
Small matters, that are highly unlikely to ever be verified by the liar, Balliram, and would no doubt set the Telecom's Strategist back into his 'she's a raving lunatic' mode, were he not too busy wallowing in the ILoveJannie thread created by marine1 at mybroadband... *grins...
Gotta love that ode to brown-nosing, and without anyone to challenge him, Jannie van Zyl is back riding the crest of the wave... *applauds...

I've been up to collect the Times from the driveway and find that those telltale dark marks on just one section of the wall, have finally dried out, and that if I hadn't taken THIS picture yesterday, you'd never know it was there...
Has the Scrabble Player finally been informed of the incredibly powerful properties contained in the ordinary-looking light attached to the side of his garage wall?
I go back to my own garage wall repeatedly, searching in vain for a gouge in the brickwork, or anything that will explain why V repeatedly prunes that palm shrub back so fiercely to give LOS across my rockery, through my pre-cast wall, and ultimately to my Good Neighbour's wall light...
I've come to the conclusion that it's to do with the electrics in my own garage, as cutting through the bricks at that exact point would find the socket and switch that operates the neon strip light in our garage...

So ja, I'd have to say the Scrabble Player's wall light has been tweaked to emit hugely powerful microwaves, easily capable of cutting through brick and mortar, just as the dozen or so identical lights operate at the Chickencoop, and it's no wonder poor Millie objects as I climb past that area...
Is he, as the Plumber at No. 14 certainly was, being sent out of town regularly on work contracts, to prevent his own electro-magnetic sensitivity from increasing?  *interested... After all, he already admits that he too has his own personal whine in his ears, that fluctuates oddly at different times...
The Plumber?  I told you how he was given three big contracts just at the time the new water lines were being laid outside his home, and they were causing all manner of problems.. HERE.. Far safer to keep the chap well out of the area while the fibre was being crammed through the water lines.. *yawns...

Since publishing yesterday's blog, Einstein came up with a plan of some brilliance, and instead of causing my eyes to water at the kitchen sink and the other usual points of torture, he flooded both the entire house and yard with top-end levels of BackFire for the day, leaving this rat nowhere to hide, and I guess it's not going to change anytime soon... Tough shit, right?
Peace..


---oOo---

Monday 26th March 2012 at 9.21am..