I'd lain there while they'd prodded and jabbed away mercilessly at the top of my thighs and my lower back, and as always I was baffled, and had said as much out loud. WTF is the mental age of those who were so clearly determined to have me out of my bed at that hour? Twelve? Thirteen? As the majority of my invisible Intruders are nudging middle-age, you'll perhaps understand my confusion at their peurile and painful antics. Once I'd finally opened my eyes, my peripheral vision picked up more than a few of those bright little streaks of light as they criss-crossed over the bed, and the laser traffic in there was as heavy as Warwick Avenue used to be, on a Saturday morning...
Despite that Abba's 'I don't want to talk' was stuck on Play in my head, and I'd not planned on chatting with you this morning, I'd best come up with something to please my Controllers..
You're going to have to decide for yourselves whether the following is deliberate mis-information or god's own truth...
My solo trip up to Westville yesterday had been uneventful on the pain front. Whoever it was that had been riding shotgun with me had kept the evidence of their presence to a minimum, and I'd been duly impressed. It was not without it's lighter moments however, and by the time I'd reached the St. James Bridge intersection I'd laughed out loud and had asked whether my Tracker wished for me to climax right there on the road.
That rather pleasurable mischief had ceased immediately, but will no doubt give you a clue as to the identity of my Tail at the time.
Jimmy Bellows Farmer's Market is now presumably wired to the max, and the usual control poles/lights were blazing out onto the sunny day. I'd been delighted to see her, and we'd eventually begun chatting about the ongoing problems she has had with her Service Provider, and in particular, her mail. (Turns out she uses Telkom, so no surprises there.)
We were about to go our separate ways when, almost as an afterthought, she'd said they'd had a strange mail from a high-ranking, now retired, police officer that they knew, warning them that amongst other things, their television was being used to monitor them, and I'd said that yes, this was true. A convoluted bit of theatrics, aimed specifically at her, or had that mail been in a round-robin format, and sent to several other SAPS-connected recipients?
If it was the real deal, can we anticipate that the now retired Sender is due to fall ill and pass away of natural causes, within the next few months? A terminal slap on the wrist for shooting his mouth off?
I'm inclined to go with the former, and that the ubiquitous ennui among her monitors had been the reason she'd found that mail in her Inbox. A jolly little bit of mischief, designed to unsettle her?
How had the would-be takeover of this country first begun? Had the Men in Black started off by approaching the Big Knobs at Telkom, who in turn had met with Mo Shaik, who'd quite possibly included Trevor Manuel in their initial discussions, not to mention several other heavyweights in Government at the time? Had those ANC stalwarts been persuaded to sell out their comrades even before the so-called democracy had arrived here? The search would've been on to find suitable Puppets in each Province who would be only too eager to dance to the Telecom's giants tune..
The Organised Crime Bosses who would be used to promote crime and corruption on a gigantic scale, to ultimately render the population open and willing to the idea of a One World Order...
Those like Sutcliffe, in each Municipality, who would encourage the inevitable trough-feeders to loot the coffers freely, and who would see to it that the power supplies and waterlines were given over into the hands of the quantum technology enthusiasts. The old regime who'd run Eskom would've been present at those very first meetings, would they not?
Near enough to the truth for you, Mistuh van Zyl? The picture that this miserable Labrat paints is pretty much spot-on, is it not?
The world-wide push to get the population to regard their cellphones as some sort of umbilical cord has worked like a charm, and the efforts to get the youth hooked on violent video games was no accident either. For those who weren't quite so partial to the virtual spilling of blood and guts, there was always the more genteel The Sims game that they could play, where they could get used to the idea of controlling and manipulating the characters lives... Beautiful! Ag, it's all water under the bridge right now, and I'm just grateful that this self-absorbed twat has somehow been allowed to live long enough to see this Grand Scheme unfold.
Course, I won't be around to witness the collective jaw-dropping surprise displayed by so many Academics and Intellectuals, when they finally realise the extent they've been conned, and that they're only slightly better off than the heaving manipulated masses. Are the Big Boys currently in Government in bed with the Blues in order to achieve the fabled One World Order? They must be. Airwing belongs to Government, and yet THIS blue and white chopper (that Nayager had at some stage claimed was for his use alone) was set aside purely to play a part in the installation of the quantum surveillance technology across eThekwini, and the same will have been done in each Province.
It wasn't that long ago that Joe Public was told the SAPS fleet was grounded due to the Government's incompetence, and a lack of parts and maintenance.. I must have missed the bit where a wealthy Benefactor had stepped forward to save the day, and to get those birds back up in the air?
Just who does our Helen consort with on the QT? May I toss a few names into the pot? Excluding the heavies at Eskom and Telkom, and notwithstanding the sterling participation of Koos Bekker and Naspers, how's about Cyril and Tokyo, and let's not forget the Shaik siblings either, as these strange bed-fellows huddle together in the bed provided by the CIA and the quantum Project Authors..
As befuddled and incoherent as I surely am, I figure you get the message anyway, and that to achieve this Noble Goal the levels of depraved brutality and bloodshed must continue to be carried out, if the country is to be saved from itself.
Can the power-drunk Protege be persuaded to forgo any further arranged physical invasions to our home, in his deranged efforts to have us toe the line? Can he manipulate his Graduates to the point where they'd happily participate in a third display of such ugliness? While the youth of the land are being steadily groomed to become equally soulless over the airwaves, are there any that will escape? Fascinating times indeed.
LATER at 6.29am
When I'd gone up with her to unlock the gates yesterday afternoon, it had been to find a length of pristine toilet paper, carefully hooked over the wire on the gates, fluttering in the breeze.. Bearing in mind that this was around 2pm, and well before I'd gone online to type out yesterday's Facebook update.
Sort of narrows it down a bit, don't you think? Which of my regular Peeping Toms who'd sat at my shoulder in the early hours, reading my scribbles, had considered it a lark to have that done for my benefit? Had the Arrested Development from No 6 gotten his handy droog to do the deed, or had it been the latest tenant from No. 10? Were his adoring fans mightily impressed by that childish but harmless prank?
Friday 2nd May 2014 at 7.51am.