Myself and another woman who is now standing somewhere in Barnet for Reform - I’m assuming agent now as, since I survived poisoning in July, I’m not allowed anywhere without them - are going house to house in Hendon talking to people and delivering leaflets.
I’ve been walking all day - apart from a few hours when I had a hairdresser appointment scheduled.
I’m perhaps starting to limp a bit, or I maybe mentioned a pain coming on.
The woman I’m with starts to walk really, really slowly.
There’s no reason why she would do that.
We were racing around at the beginning of the day.
I’m wondering if she was told to slow down by someone who knew I had stitches in my groin region and had heard I was complaining about feeling pain.
This is the same stich which will snap and crunch at FitKoh in December after just a couple of paces jogging - I expect after another incision in the same place in Bangkok or Samui.
She also wanted to know what had been going on with me, and I told her, and she did not react normally - no shock or upset that I have suffered so many sexual attacks, that they centred on a public school attended by hundreds of children, that the children are also targets, and nobody has done a thing about it - so I’m pretty sure she’s an agent.
Was this a kind of… oh well, if you’ve experienced all that you’re not fit to be the mother of your own children, but we’ll definitely need to steal your eggs anyway… it’s even worse than the rape, do they realize that?
Although, I do wonder if it was more to do with trying to find out why the Americans were so interested in me, having not been told, and how that might have anything to with my health.
There’s no way anyone knew about the eggs; cos A, it’s crazy and B it’s utterly appalling, like Mengele business.
On these occasions, the only accounts posting anything else on my timeline seemed to be aggressive stalker fake-accounts; her flying monkeys, as it were.
Clearly, the social media feeds on a device’s hacked browser can be 100% manipulated, and the manipulation can take multiple forms.
I can practically see a bunch of criminal stalker apps targeting each social media platform; now probably rolled into one single application that criminal gangs use.
Hacking a device is pretty easy, and young boys studying CS do it all the time; making sure the girls never find out how it works.
After accessing a device, and jumping into an open session as owner, manipulating everything the true owner sees must be very easy.
However, it’s one thing a youngster doing it with a simple hacker application, it’s quite another to have access to these AI-based process-heavy highly professional distributed applications that bypass safeguarding censorship completely.
It also appears that X (the only platform I’m familiar with) has some leaky code on the backend which allows criminals to tweak the algorithm for targeted users. Sounds like an inside job.
Criminals must prompt the application to post the triggering content required.
Here’s an idea of how prompts like these might read:
Animated, non-hostile porn with fellatio and post-coitus bliss ensuring man is [add particular size, shape, coloring] and woman is [add here].
Insipid Indian self-help bro content.
Wild out-there hallucinogen-type content from space bros.
Cat posts with messages that read like a true romance; with 5% of those posts having a random threat towards a female user.
Violent porn with aggression and threat towards a viewer we assume is female.
Subtle sexual grooming content for [add gender and age] who likes animals.
Show target biblical posts only. (I rather like this one).
Etc.
Once prompted, the target’s timeline changes completely.
It’s very clever, quite obvious too, unless you’re a kid, I guess.
A smart target might notice and wonder what was going on.
There may be adjustable subtlety levels; I suspect the less obvious it is the more powerful hold it has.
If you happen to be able to drug a target at the same time, or perhaps know that they’re a pothead or similar, then this triggering mechanism will have even more potency.
Suicide content. A bunch of tweets about suicide from accounts as far from my graph as you can imagine, hiding in amongst everything else. Something I’ve never ever seen before.
The townsfolk and one other were the only ones who knew the real reason I became suicidally depressed in 2015; perhaps they’re hoping for a bit of that again.
Sorry-not-sorry folks. Not going to happen.
Furthermore, this suicide content on my feed I have never seen before supports my suspicion that Lorraine Blackbourn, and others in the area and at the conservatory, may have been manipulated online into committing suicide.
Another view of some of the less unpleasant of these changes in content is that someone was/is doing a bit of show-and-tell for my benefit.
Thank you, whoever you are. It has helped enormously.
But seriously, you should all be done for mass murder and mass attempted murder.
Today, time of writing, I believe the suicide manipulation content is run by the Americans too.
One sitting at the end of my row, leaving a space in the middle.
He’s dressed like a CIA man.
One I meet outside the toilet when my stomach starts relaxing over India - a Brit, Mark, partner of another Brit I meet at FitKoh who tells me she works as air crew - after resigning from the Metropolitan police - and they both make a bit of extra money doing secret service shifts.
Israeli agents - always bald and mean looking - I guess that’s the American definition.
And then a criminal gang member even, just to spice things up.
Incredible.
It felt like protection at the time cos I was still believing the lie about the Lopez Cano’s - like the whole darned world it seems - but I wonder if it was, rather, declaration of ownership.
I stay for about 10 days in a lovely hotel right beside the embassy, booked online, of course, and in advance.
I feel a little safer, a little bit looked-after shall we say.
There are discrepancies but nevertheless it’s somewhat comforting after trudging many circles of seemingly endless criminal hell.
On the room service menu there seems to be only pages and pages of Caesar salad on offer. Very amusing.
I get a wound on my left groin which doesn’t behave like a normal boil. In fact, if I had been pierced there, it would be problematic because that was a boil area and so I used skin-thinning cream on it.
I’m walking to Terminal 21 through the walkways over the roads.
A woman (American spy dress) brushes past me on her mobile saying, yes, we’re gonna get every last one of them.
I’d like to say that because all this was hint, never formal, never open, I struggled to accept any of it.
But, because I had no-one to talk to, I was totally isolated - as per design - I couldn’t actually do or say anything about it either apart from ranting on X which is unactionable, as they’re well aware.
At the end of the month, beginning of December, I visit Gujurat from Bangkok for jyotirlinga pilgrimage.
On the way back from Ahmadabad to BKK, there is a “team” waiting for me airside.
Quick aside: every time I fly now there are agents assigned to sit with me. However, this is a particularly unusual team.
Three “very” Jewish looking American men are shepherded by a couple of Indian officials.
I’m sitting in the front pretty much alone (the first few rows are clear apart from me, the plane is full from about row 4 back, and there is one Indian official woman sitting directly in front of me).
These three get on and they’re mucking around and being quite funny, I mean they’re behaving like giggly children, and they’re making me laugh too, the stewardess tells them to behave, to stop mucking around.
Everyone stretches out to sleep (the rest of the plane is full), and they go on about the pillows endlessly.
When everyone’s settled down, one of them sitting behind me says: you’re safe now or things of that nature.
I know this is all for me and I’m expected to think it’s a rescue team.
They do not rescue me.
It is events like this (yes, there are more just like it) that make me certain, as in KNOWING certainty, of how far up India’s arse the mousses are and how this cannot include the Brits either.
