Lame.
(begun Wednesday 3rd September at 10.30am)
What did Louis do in his previous life, before he became a DA Councillor? Lawyer? Army man? Cop? You saw the pictures he'd posted of that nightime golf game up in Empangeni?
Were they testing out the quantum surveillance technology on those greens, as a Controller sat back in the Clubhouse, or was the Councillor himself startled to find his digital photos filled with floating spheres?
In my humble opinion that's more than sufficient evidence that his every move is being monitored...
How did he come to be on my Facebook Friend list, and is it due to his idle curiosity that has him now tagged by the quantum laser spies, or are his own kids already recruited to the growing ranks of the quantum army, and he knows as well as I do what the presence of those spheres denotes?

Friday 5th September at 8.55pm.

Ordinary people? Maybe once, but not any more.
Little Cola had declined to finish his lunch, and by late afternoon he'd taken to dogging my footsteps with his tail between his legs, as he does when there's an electric storm heading our way. Early on in the evening I'd heard him give a yelp of pain and he'd come through to the lounge from my bedroom shortly afterwards, looking fearful and miserable.
Only when I'd taken them out at 8.30pm for a pee had it become apparent that he'd suddenly gone badly lame in one of his back legs, and eventually I'd had to lift him up the verandah steps, where he'd trotted back inside sans his limp, and had jumped up on my bed.

Who would sink to targeting a dumb animal like that? Of all my nearby Monitors only three stick out like a sore thumb. Young Narcissus up at No. 16, Frederick at No.12, and of course, the animal torturer ensconced at No. 6, although by now there may well be others on board who would happily abuse animals in this fashion. #wavestoAkay?

Our god-fearing Chartered Accountant has shown over the years that he is more than partial to explosive pyrotechnics, and that he has little if any regard for man's best friend, while his colleague, the redoubtable quantum Spook at No. 6, has a history of abusing his own animals that stretches back years. Would you care to be reminded by Exhibit A? Dear, loyal Nobby, with his jaws drawn back in a rictus grin of pain, lasered to death the very night before I'd been due to take him to the vet? With hundreds upon hundreds of tiny red ticks crawling all over his corpse?
Non-lethal? Right. The beauty of this brutal wireless weaponry is that it's all circumstantial evidence, and unprovable.

Yesterday's nuking of little Cola, an animal that Balliram himself had acquired as one of a pair, specifically in order to cause ongoing dismay among his animal loving neighbours, as they spent most of their days dodging traffic in the street, is something that Someone nearby had felt absolutely impelled to do, after my comment on my FB wall this morning, and it goes a long way to showing the mentality of the power-drunk quantum torturers that surround us.
Do you aspire to reach their status? To get to the point where you come to regard animals as mere target practise, with even less value than your human prey whose homes and health you violate daily?
When I'd begun scribbling out this draft by torchlight ten minutes ago, there'd come the sudden ghastly sound of a large dog close by, either being savaged by it's companion, or nuked by lasers. It fell silent, before Rocky next door had let out a long despairing howl. My two dogs had remained huddled and strangely silent on the bed next to me, throughout that unpleasantness.

Cry wolf, Lazzie? There is nothing the police can do to prevent such a thing being posted on social media, and nor would you want to. Was Jonathan reimbursed for that studied piece of mischief he'd engineered on the Sydenham Community News FB page? I shouldn't be surprised in the least if he was. #vomit
Peace julle.

Saturday 6th September 2014 at 8.28am