I am back. Suffice it to say that another in a series of living difficulties side-tracked all endeavors short of survival. I found myself listening for footsteps across my roof at 3 A.M.. Checking the crawlspace under the house, keeping the magazine of my .45 topped off and lying next to my head as I slept. As a possible death-match hovers on the horizon, your world shrinks to tunnel vision and the whole of time is reduced to the one or two seconds it takes to kill or die. It appears that my better half’s brother has inflicted enough chemical damage to his grey matter that he has acquired a whole new set of friends that actually don’t exist. He asserts he has been given special permission from the government to use methamphetamines.  He and Mrs. Obama hang together a lot.

Disclaimer

The above-mentioned involvement with the government are DELUSIONS of said brother, not me.

Mr. Happy, (protecting anonymity) thinks I am the ring leader of a group “Gang Stalkers” Don’t ask. I don’t know. He lived in the shadows of the ally behind our home. And before you ask, the police made 15 visits on our call. Each cop gave different reasons they couldn’t’ do anything about a crazed nut job (attacked at least one person with a crow bar and threatened me with a baseball bat.

Stressed to the max by about four months of aggression, paranoia and physical violence, I resolved to quit posting because I was not doing any good convincing the world that evil was afoot (only a couple of hits a week)not a sensitivity seminar. Then I saw this pic. KLIKIT if you if you want the straight dope on what the world (that includes the USA) is capable of ignoring.

The timid squat in their “safe rooms”  they are listening to the screams of death dying that fills the air outside their cramped little hidey-holes.

They wait for silence. They pray the evil has either moved on, or satiated the blood lust. Above they meander about, sniffing the earth, looking for that one idiot who can’t help but peek out of his hole. But even for the peaceful there are limits that cannot be crossed. There must be restraint in doling out justice. But the quandary is the question. Is this the right thing to do?  Courage is standing up for your principles. Comfort zones are for pansies.

The world is assuming the twisted spine and contorted features of Quasimodo on LSD. The anti-hero is in command, stealing, murdering and torturing with no fear of consequence. And if I touch one person with my words then I will continue doing this post.