Compulsion...
(begun Wednesday 2nd October at 2.35am...)


Where was your spouse at half past midnight?  Collecting data from enemy Numero Uno?  That's what you call it?  Se GAT!!
Today's first frequency du jour woke me at 12.30am with that nasty dull ache at my rear end... The one that had more than a few residents booking a session with their proctologists after young Fabian Carey's tragic demise...   The discomfort had eventually left, and I'd drifted back off until 1.35am, when they were back with the heatwave, the BackFire, and the Burning Hand, before someone began methodically jabbing away at my right shoulder joint... *rolls eyes...
Fast forward to 2.20am, and I was awake again with my hand on fire, and the ache in my rear.. Five minutes later I'd taken mild offence at all this attention and had left the warmth of my bed to come chat to you here..

As a small token of my displeasure I've pulled the plug from the wall power point and switched it off, and I've shut the small side window overlooking Balliram's three aircon units... Oh, and I've just turned off the outside corner spotlight that's to my right...  None of which gestures makes any difference to their ability to hurt me, but a token is a token... Indeed, I've just taken a flurry of knives to the back which has since settled to a slow burn....
How do these New Age soldiers refer to their behaviour when chatting among themselves?  Do they regard these deliberate and systematic assaults as some sort of ongoing experiment?    Are they led to believe they're breaking new ground, despite that wireless frequencies were used as a method of torture as far back as the fifties?

I'd been standing on our driveway next to the little wirelessed doorbell last Thursday, waiting for the Gamewrecker to pick me up, when I'd taken a knife to the neck, just below my ear... I'd managed to curse aloud just before the next jab.. We'd barely left Sherwood in the Polo when the third stab to my neck occurred, and I'd pointed the area out to my old man... That's your lymph glands, says he, and that particular assault hasn't happened since...
You're bored?  You've no desire to listen to a litany of an old person's ailments?   Silliness, as you'd do well to pay attention, that you may recognize these symptoms for what they are, if ever they should come your way...

It's not as if you can expect your trusty GP to identify the effects of wireless-bearing laser attacks, now is it? I'd been scrolling through Koos Bekker's DStv bouquet a few days ago when I'd come across an old re-run of Guiliana Ranzic telling her friend that she was taking anti-estrogen pills to avoid cancer..
Such a small thing it was, but it had gotten me into thinking about the arrival of the sometimes delicious, but often brutal, Fiddler's frequency that seems to target my reproductive organs amongst other areas...
The gangbangs carried out with such savagery are probably the worst form of abuse I've had to endure since Agent Balliram was handed the bouquet of wireless weaponry to share among his colleagues and students..
At the other end of the scale however, there's that head-scrambling, and no doubt minute variation, that leaves me gasping for breath, and maybe even hoping for more...

Hell, I've known there must be a hidden price to pay for such extreme pleasure administered on such a frequent scale, but self-gratifying pratt that I am, I chose to ignore it, at least until Guiliana had dropped the word estrogen into the pot...
I've struggled to describe how the Fiddler's frequency appears to employ some sort of geo-magnetic force field that causes my uterus to contract rhythmically and, depending on the Abuser, can give astonishing results..  So I googled estrogen and uterus, and of course it came up immediately with uterine cancer...
Although I've not the ability to research it properly, I've got the idea that all of this remote stimulation somehow increases my levels of estrogen, even at the ripe old age of 68, and that if this is so, it could ultimately lead to rather more than me gasping into my pillows in ecstacy?

Cut to a few days later, (and a sudden significant decrease in the employment of that mind-boggling delight), and there was Amy Farah-Fowler saying that the pancreas must have what the pancreas wants...In the context in which she'd uttered those words, I could be forgiven for thinking she was referring to some sort of stress relief?   After all, twas she who'd advocated that an electric toothbrush could be a girl's BFF? *waves cheerfully to Captain Lazarus...
I duly googled pancreas and estrogen, and once again it was no surprise to come up with pancreatic cancer...
And now of course I have to ask... Has that been the goal all along?  Has the arrival of this latest weapon, that could haul me from the deepest sleep onto a wave of sheer ecstacy, been designed to achieve considerably more than those brief seconds of bliss?

It's all very well engineering a mysterious infection that caused both my elbows to puff up enormously within weeks of each other, and had left my GP baffled as to the cause... It's another thing to amuse yourselves by systematically cooking off the cartilage in my hand, and during the process, causing it to swell up like a balloon along with my forearm, before my once-again bewildered doctor had sent me for a scan, and the loss of that cartilage had been revealed...
Shall we quit pussy-footing about?  Can we accept that those accomplishments were merely for starters, and that you've since hauled out the big guns?  Jannie?
You're busy handing out similar orders up in Gauteng, or down in the Cape, somewhere near your own glass eyrie?
Some unfortunate neighbour whose stolen conversations have irritated you to the point where you have them attacked physically, using the computerised laser program?

I'd bumped into Sue the Book briefly the other day, and I'd delicately asked her whether her latest symptoms had included any abdominal discomfort, and she'd agreed she'd been having something akin to period pains.. Let wel, julle...
Anything erm, pleasant, in that region? I'd pushed her... Apparently not, although she'd cackled and said it was at least something to look forward to...   Your labrats show remarkable resilience, do they not?  Even after nine years of Agent Balliram and his Cadet's concentrated abuse, we can still laugh at ourselves and find humour in the very direst of situations...Oops!  That would no doubt be because we're lower life-forms, and simply too stupid to be afraid, right, Mr. Spence?

Those soldiers of the Yellow Army that I refer to kindly, appear to become anxious, and to feel the need to reaffirm their loyalties to the Cause in the oddest of ways.. Young Leon Chetty of durbanite.co.za had, out of the blue, tweeted me a link to Dr. Oz' belly-fat-busting diet, not long after we'd had a brief but amicable chat on Facebook.. My Excellent Neighbour or her Devout spouse, may have found themselves in a similar awkward position that led to some odd behaviour yesterday morning.. May I reassure you all that despite my regard for some of you, more than others, I do NOT see you as my friends, and I'm well aware that your agenda doesn't include our well-being in any way...
Instead, I see you as trapped in a predicament, not of your own making, but one designed to con sufficient of the population into creating an army of willing slaves, who will carry out orders given by the Experiment Planners...

You'll be encouraged to believe that lesser mortals like myself are merely there for your entertainment and amusement, to while away the boring hours you spend in each home, monitoring and recording every last cough and fart for your Masters...
Some, again like myself, will rise to the occasion and genuinely piss you off, which will happily give you justification for the reprisals you will inevitably take...
We're good to go, then?  For if nothing else, I've learned my place in this brave New World hierarchy over the past nine years, and while I'm still able to find much that is good and beautiful around me, I anticipate nothing more from my Controller and his cohorts, than heightened and ongoing abuse...

The GameWrecker had climbed the stairs on Monday afternoon to go out to the shops when he'd discovered a rear tyre was resting on it's rim... It hadn't been a straight forward job to fit the spare, but between the two of us we'd eventually gotten the job done... Hopefully the records will show that we were both laughing when he'd finally pulled away, and that the large nail driven into the tyre was once again a FAIL...
Yesterday?  My tormentors will know that I may not speak of yesterday's events just yet, but rest assured I'll get round to it.. Meanwhile, with the Telkom Wireless Warbler singing away on the telephone pole down in the dark valley, I'll love and leave you for the moment...

LATER at 5.55am

Are many of you repelled by some of the subject matter in today's update?  Don't be.  By a strange twist of fate I'm able to suggest you check out today's Times, Page 9. The hot button issue, by Rebecca Holman.. Although due to my current(!) circumstances, the title is misleading, it's interesting to note that there appears to be a push towards getting Joe Public to regard both murder and masturbation with equally clinical detachment..
Another somewhat less amusing article may be found on the front page.. VW drivers voted country's worst road hogs, and I quote Howard Dembovsky as saying that drivers will be more cautious if they know that they are being monitored..  One of the selling points of your Sales Pitch, Janneman?  A monitored and controlled society is a happy one? Really?
Peace..

---oOo---

Wednesday 2nd October 2013 at 9.20am..