Saturday, April 05, 2014

Baying for blood?
(begun Saturday 5th April at 4.45am.)

I just checked my scribbled logs and sure enough, I found a note made at 5.30pm yesterday afternoon, as I was sat in front of the telly, to the effect that someone was jabbing away fiercely at the back of my thigh..
Was it the same Dickhead who'd reaped the fruits of those labours at 1.30am this morning? That had sought to amuse themselves and whoever was with them on the Graveyard Shift, by having the old cow fighting frantically with the bedclothes, as she tried to escape the horrific cramp that had her awake in seconds from a deep sleep? The wave of BackFire that had accompanied that assault was more than enough to confirm that Someone was keen to monitor my reactions.
Like I said, it's open season after nightfall, and despite that these heroic warriors have an entire neighbourhood of available targets, you can bet I'm always good for a laugh or two.

Hindsight is a wondrous thing. In the early years I would blog of how our neighbour at No. 6 appeared to hole up in his house all day and every day, emerging after dark to apparently go clubbing until dawn, when his car's sound system would announce his return. Only now does the penny drop, and it becomes obvious he would've been networking with his fellow clubbers. Selling the quantum surveillance technology to the likes of Lance Moodley and Rajiv Narandas to spread the word.
Tempting those well-heeled and bored youngsters with tales of a computer program that would allow them to access their neighbour's homes invisibly, to monitor and record the most intimate moments in their target's lives..

I'm beginning to understand just why the Psychopath came to be revered by so many of the rudderless youth back then, and why the nature of the product he was touting had him regarded as some sort of mini deity..
Lance's daddy had of course leapt on board Sutcliffe's Smart City quantum project with alacrity, just as soon as he'd grasped the advantages that were to be had by thieving his enemies privacy...
Did his son and heir go on to develop a flair for the computerised program, and where exactly does he reside these days? Did he attain Area Controller status in his street, and even now as I scribble, is he ferreting about in a neighbour's nearby home, jabbing away at their soft tissue to ultimately cripple them?

Guardians? Protectors of your fellow-man's well-being and safety? Is that the line trotted out by that dirty old man, while he funneled a couple of million into your bank account to ensure that you're owned forever? The way I see it, is that the majority of Academics at Unis across the country would've been blown away by the opportunity of working with this advanced near-alien technology, and that their ethics and morals would've taken a back seat as they'd grabbed at the offer with both hands..
Who was it that had approached young Francesco Petruccione first? I'm guessing it would've been one of his peers, quite possibly from the States or the UK?

Someone who'd flattered the young Professor into believing he was the Chosen One? Hand-picked from among all the candidates as perfect for the job? I'm also guessing that his relationship with Sutcliffe had only developed after he'd been soaped up and re-programmed to his Handler's satisfaction?
Do my words offend the entire Physics Class of 2004, onwards? Those graduates from UKZN who continue to regard Frankie with awe and reverence, and the Cause as the best thing since sliced bread?

*There'd come a noisy chirrup from Agent Balliram's remote at 5.12am.. Just arriving home? From where? His brother-in-law at No. 6 Garbutt Road perhaps? I'm easily within reach of his grubby fingers from that address, although his minions nearby would've been all too willing to oblige him by hitting me so hard at 1.30am.. After all, no matter what cosmetic changes may have taken place, he will always be their No. 1 Controller, finish and klaar...* 

LATER at 7am.

Small things, but interesting... Standing waiting at the gates for the GameWrecker yesterday evening at dusk, to watch as our streetlight activated and glowed a pretty green, before it intensified to it's standard white light.. Three of them? Balliram's, ours and Freddies, and yet the pole outside No. 16 showed no green tint at all.. That change may have been achieved last Thursday while we were out and about, but typically I'm clueless...
The billet-deauxs (sp) my Excellent Neighbour hooks onto her kitchen door to aid the laser user's aim? A white dishcloth on the middle of the door, or a blue washcloth hung lower down on the security gate, it all helps?

My efforts to clear the acalypha that's been obstructing LOS to godschild's powerful signal enhancer HERE, appear to have been in vain. Despite that I've made it clear that I'm willing to cut back what I can, if it's proving to be an obstacle, that's not how it works, is it... ? There will be NO deals or compromises made with the Lower Orders.. Instead, either my eyes are deceiving me, or the glass panes from godschild's storeroom windows HERE have been removed, and a strategically growing mulberry tree has been allowed to flourish between his enhancer and our back-door light..
Depressing as it is, it's a message that I must accept.

Just as we'd been heading down Harris Crescent on our trip out last Thursday, a white 4x4 bakkie had nipped into the illegal access road created down by No. 2. The logo on it's side had read D D Projects.. An elderly gentleman had climbed out at the edge of the construction area, and I'd wondered whether it was Mr. Dawood himself, and whether he carries out similar development operations in other parts of eThekwini.. Cutting under-the-counter deals with the Municipality to purchase land and erect apartment blocks, that at the last minute will be revealed as accommodation for students, to the dismay of the close-knit communities?

Are gyms and health centres across the land now bursting at the seams simply because so many of their members have been advised they stand a better chance of survival if they lose all their excess body fat? I'm talking survival against the tsunami of wireless technology that's blanketing the country, and increasing daily?
Here's another thought - We'd turned up into Garbutt Road just after 10am last Thursday to find one of Allen Spence's contractors lurking on the pavement outside No. 8.. Not Howard Electrical or Raw Power, but the City Lights Contractors for a change. Were they waiting for us to leave the area before they'd changed our streetlight to appear green on startup?

LATER at 2.20pm

I visited the Essenwood Flea Market this morning, for the first time in a couple of years. I'd encountered no pain or discomfort at all, until we'd reached the north end of the stalls, when suddenly my ear, jaw and neck had sounded the alarm in no uncertain manner. Those levels had been cranked up to within an inch off unbearable for the duration of our visit. I'm told that all the necessary wiring/cabling has been installed underground at that venue, but that they have yet to be connected to a power source? Hah!
I'd bumped into young Martin Meyers while we were there, and I'm guessing that he's more than aware of the huge wireless levels pumping into that market, and just how it works..
Who had it been that had run that viciously cruel tracking operation at the market?
Silly question? Peace..


Sunday 6th April 2014 at 5.07am.