An occupational hazard..
(begun Saturday 14th September at 5am...)
*Oww! As the Backfire frequency is spiked just as I've signed (on the third attempt) into blogger. Bliksems!*
So, why're you here? What brings you to this dark corner of the interwebs to struggle with my incoherent babbling? You don't really know? Ag, there's probably a reason, but it's escaping you for the moment...
I certainly don't remember how or why I found my way here, only that I'd been scribbling some sort of diary in the Drafts section of Outlook Express for ages, and that several of my early tormentors worked for our then ISP, Mweb...
To this day I couldn't tell you why I called my blog 'Humming along', although it turned out to be weirdly prophetic, did it not?
You've googled The Hum that's heard around the World? There you go then... Hum is possibly not the word you'd choose to describe the wireless song that's caused by the quantum laser surveillance systems already set up in so many countries around the globe, but it will have to do...
Here in the valley of the Zone, it had manifested as a full-throated chorus of 'crickets', and had floated out from the mini wireless base station at St. Theresa's orphanage across the way... I still get to hear it occasionally, when I take the dogs out for a pee at bedtime, or I'm up and about in the early hours, but for the most part it's lost to me these days...
My hearing has taken a real beating over the nine years since we were unknowingly chosen to provide a Learning Centre for the laser-wielding students to access, to perfect their new craft... Just yesterday I'd whined of the appalling ache to all the fillings on one side of my jaw, as I'd scrubbed away at the physcia grisea and those sooty black deposits out in the garden... It's often enough that that frequency reaches my inner ears as well, with the result that I'm going deaf quite rapidly.. An occupational hazard, Balliram?
You only have to visit Caxton's Newspapers at www.looklocal.co.za and check out their Letters pages to see how often a resident will write of the invasive hum that keeps them awake at night, to know that Sutcliffe's quantum laser technology is already decorating their streetlights...
Is it merely coincidence that there are already three Patels gracing these pages, and that a fourth has now arrived to play his role in this ongoing mini drama? The first had moved in to No. 2 Harris Crescent decades back, and if I remember rightly had been married to Earl Michael Barnabas' daughter(?), Jocintha.. Now I come to think of it, Earl probably bought the property with the proceeds of the SBV Heist, as well as the purple house on Jan Smuts Highway, where he'd installed the fair Carol Frankson...
Anyways, it turned out Ebrahim was a party animal, and apparently the neighbours would often call the cops out in an effort to quieten down the disturbance...
Pretty funny as even back then Earl had OWNED Sydenham Station, so those complaints had mostly fallen on deaf ears.. More than anything I remember how his dogs were always out on the road, and how one day the both of them (German Shepherds) had been killed on the busy Jan Smuts Highway, as they dodged among the traffic..
He'd made no effort to remove their corpses, but left them lying there until I'd lost my rag and insisted he take them away... They'd relocated timeously, just prior to the arrival of the Smart City technology 'trials', which had begun with some serious excavations on the Freeway bridge, and culminated with dear Bas from No. 4 getting nailed by a stray spike in 2005. Hell, I probably got my dates a bit muddled, but you get the picture..
The second Patel had turned out to be a youngster that was living just up the Crescent, and we'd been fortunate to recruit his services to help with our struggles on the internet...
A devout member of the Muslim community, he was endlessly patient and tolerant of my dim-wittedness, and a real credit to his faith.... Long gone from our lives, I can only hope that good fortune smiles on him forever..
The third Patel, whom I've referred to so often along the way, was the youngster who'd starred in Slumdog Millionaire, and who'd given me that quote that I use so often.. 'The answer is D - It is written'. So there you have it. The odd quirks of life that have three Patels featuring in my tale, and a fourth, newly arrived to join them...
Where does this newbie fit into the scheme of things? Will he turn out to be a genuinely caring follower of Islam, or is he already a hardened and intolerant bully like our Area Controller, Balliram?
Will the Newbie hear his wife were she to say her hands and wrists are giving her problems? With more than three hundred times the amount of pain sensors than males, women can be the early warning system for the unregulated wireless that fills so much of the air here in the valley... (Makes note: Must stop using the term 'blankets the Zone').
Will our latest Mr. Patel hear his young son when he remarks on the strange sounds in his ears? Will he accept that if this occurs, the radiation is already taking it's toll on the boy's immune system? In the short time since he moved in to No. 4, has he already come to despise my fugliness and stupidity, as he joins the other Recruits on the airwaves in ours, or can he still think for himself, and escape the Omnipotence Disease?
What precisely was that Telkom employee doing to the white wireless box up the pole yesterday afternoon? Including young Mr. Patel among those now able to intercept our landline calls? Hopefully that's all it was, although the levels of the Backfire frequency flooding our lounge yesterday evening at 6.45pm were horrific enough to have me get up and shut the window behind my chair, and to unplug and switch off the jackpoint to my right.. Something that, although it does little to alleviate my pain, is a statement I'm obliged to make, so that at least some of the Monitors and students sitting on our walls are aware of their cruelty...
LATER at 6.35am
I'd first spotted it mid-afternoon yesterday, when I'd been teetering on the edge of the bank, emptying out the hadedas pool... I'd looked up to see a blinding light on No.12's picket fence, beyond godschild's zinc-roofed booster shed, and I couldn't make out whether it was metal catching the afternoon sun, or a light.. I've just been out to see why the dogs were making a fuss in the front, and discovered that it IS a light that Freddie's running, and it's active even now HERE... Yeah, even the anti-wobble function doesn't prevent that photo from being somewhat fuzzy, but it's good enough for the record...
Dammit, Frederic! Have I been looking in the wrong direction to blame someone for my additional woes? Was it that powerful light that nearly made my nose bleed at the levels of Backfire frequency yesterday evening? Sies vir jou!!!
You come and go so quietly these days, that I often forget to include you in the mix.. A foolish mistake under the circumstances ja, although as usual I'm more irritated by my own stupidity than your participation... *grinds yellowed stumps...
You know that I always check my gmail spam box, right? Balliram has made a point of corrupting whatever mail service I use, and gmail has not escaped his mischief either.. So ja, I check my Spam and delete it as routine... When I'd signed in yesterday afternoon there'd been just the two mails sitting in Spam. Both had rude subject lines, which are pretty much par for the course... Except these weren't... They each referred, not that obliquely, to the mind-bending frequency that now has me flopping about like a fish breathing it's last... I routinely delete all such crap without opening them, and did so without much thought... In retrospect, a pity, as it would've been interesting for you to track them to their source, don't you think?
To find out whether the Accountant is a regular party-goer in ours at those abusive late-night sessions (which would explain why his kind wife no longer picks up her cell when she sees my number) or whether it was simply the Sadist himself who generated those two very pointed mails...
And back to that light that's running next to No.12's pool out front? May I predict that godschild's two big dogs will start displaying problems with their hips, sooner rather than later, since the regular activation of that brilliant enhancer? Are Val's own Butch and Spanky showing any signs of early arthritis yet? Is their hearing still as sharp as ever?
Weak-willed and spellbound as I am by the introduction of the Fiddler's frequency, I'm beginning to suspect that all the attention being paid to my reproductive organs may just be screwing with my hormones... I'm developing a tendency to leak at the eyes at the most inopportune moments. A practise I gave up decades ago, when I shed my self-pity to concentrate on my self-loathing...
I now find it impossible to feel sorry for myself, so why the renewed bouts of snivelling, unless my hormones are reacting to this latest wickedly delicious frequency?
LATER at 7.40am
I'd just begun undressing to bathe at 7.15am, when the Knob next door's house alarm kicked off.. I came in here and logged it, before going back to the bathroom to strip off. At which point I took a donkey-kick to my right ovary area and had cursed out loud... My less-than-kind Area Controller, or his new best friend at No. 4 being bounced in here to monitor my nekked fugliness? Your guess, folks...
Golf Day? WTF is a Golf Day? You have those up at Westville Station, Stephen? I'd asked the young Officer why the civvies, when I was up there on Thursday, and he'd said it was Golf Day, FFS... Not enough vans ever, and certainly under-manned for an area as vast as ours, and yet we have a Golf Day? Turns out he was going down to the Country Club greens (or so he said). A venue I've not included since my increased interest in the wiring of the Papwa Sewgolum course to the surveillance Grid...
Is that why I'd had a better time of it than usual, on our trip out on Thursday? Was the Sadist otherwise occupied, trialling the monitoring devices installed on the Country Club greens?
Your options for anything resembling privacy are rapidly disappearing, although a stroll along the water's edge at the beachfront, SANS your cellphones, is probably still your best bet of having a conversation you don't wish to share with a member of the Data Thieves Army...
Spare a thought on this soft and still misty morning for all those like us who endure debilitating visitations over their powerlines, in order to provide learning centres for the laser-wielding cadets... Met ander woorde, be kind...
Peace..
---oOo---
Saturday 14th September 2013 at 9.25am.
