Tag Archive | breakfast

Gang Stalking – Sundays are for relaxing, not for fighting a war.


Breakfast (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: american breakfast

English: american breakfast (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Comics (Photo credit: Richard Masoner / Cyclelicious)

Sunday morning. I used to love Sunday mornings. It was a day to relax. A day not to worry about anything.  To read the newspaper, especially the magazine and comic sections. It was a day to have a really good breakfast. On Sundays calories didn’t count. I could have anything I felt like eating. I could have bacon, donuts, eggs, french toast, big glass of juice, and drink as much coffee as I felt like drinking. It was a day to do absolutely nothing and luxuriate in not getting dressed.

I haven’t had a normal Sunday in years. I’m always taking care of some problem, or trying to get my computer into working shape.

This morning, for instance, I spent two hours plus trying to fix my computer. Of course, it’s still not working right. And the idiot that is working as a hacker today has already deleted what I’ve typed.

I imagine it’s a man who is doing the hacking. I know women do hacking, too, but most of the hackers are men.

I’d to take my foot and put it right where it hurts the idiot, and I would do it over and over until he would be yelling at me to stop. And I don’t care if they write me up for writing this. I can just see them now saying that I’m going to beat someone up.

What they do to us is torture, and they’re going to complain about being hit in a certain spot! Aren’t they all such girls?

I bet they wouldn’t be able to handle what we targets have to put up with every day. They’d probably be crying about how everything hurts. They’d probably have to call their mommies “Mommy, some nasty woman hurt me. Mommy, she really hurt me. Oh, poor thing. My heart breaks for all of them.

They act as if they’re so strong. So in command of their lives. Sure, they are. If they were in command of their lives, they’d have a soul and act like human beings. But they’re not humans. I don’t know what to call these things that walk around on two feet and are supposed to be human. Human, they’re not. It is an alien thing that tortures human beings for absolutely no reason at all.

I miss my Sundays and want them back. Sundays are for relaxing, not for fighting a war.

Contact info: http://neverending1.WordPress.com

Gang Stalker – PostaDay 2011 – Describe the best breakfast you’ve ever eaten.

English: Swan choux pastries

English: Picture of the entrance to the Las Ve...

Image via Wikipedia

Oatmeal with Blueberries

Image by TheCulinaryGeek via Flickr

Breakfast of rasperries, blueberries and oatmeal.

Image via Wikipedia

English: Breakfast for dinner

Image via Wikipedia

I’ve had a lot of delicious breakfasts.  I used to work at the Las Vegas Convention, and we’d get breakfast if we had to work early in the morning, about 4 a.m.  These were breakfasts for which the convention people paid about $40-50.  We’d get scrambled eggs, bacon, juice, pastries, coffee, tea, marmalade toast, eggs Benedict, etc.  Really delicious breakfasts.

The breakfasts were really good, but the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten is the breakfast my mother used to cook for me.  My mother used to cook the best oatmeal ever.  She’d take oatmeal, beat it to make it floury-looking.  When it was floury enough, she’d add milk to a pan,wait for it to start boiling, and slowly add the oatmeal, some sugar and cinnamon.  She’d let the oatmeal cook slowly, about 20 minutes to cook. She keep stirring it to make sure it didn’t get stuck to the bottom of the pan.  When the oatmeal began to bubble, she knew it was ready.  She’d spoon oatmeal on everyone’s plate and add more cinnamon on top. It was delicious.  It wasn’t too thick nor watery.  It was just the right consistency.  I loved it.  I’ve tried making the oatmeal myself, but, somehow, it doesn’t taste anything like my mother’s.  I guess it was the love she added to the oatmeal that made it taste so much better.

So even though oatmeal is a very simple breakfast, it was the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten.

Countdown: 56 blogs to write.
Contact Info: http://neverending1.WordPress.com

Gang Stalking – Off Topic – PostaDay 2011 – Write a short letter to yourself, to be read one year from now.

Official seal of Las Vegas

Official seal of Las Vegas (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


This is a letter I wrote to myself on July 11, 2011.  As you can read, nothing’s changed. Oh, one thing’s changed. I’m no longer friends with the man I mentioned.




You don’t have to post the entire letter, but you do have a) write it b) post about you what surprised you the most about what you wrote, or whether you found the experience interesting or not.


Dear Self:


I am writing this letter on July 17, 2011. It is 9:05 p.m. I am living in Las Vegas, Nevada.


Self, I hope a year from now I am free of the yoke around my neck. For the last three years, I’ve had this yoke. I have not be able to get rid of it. It controls my life 24/7. I am not free to live the life I want.I cannot even work. To work would be to suffer more than I am suffering at this time. The U.S. government has made me a target to be mistreated and abused. I’ve tried my darndest to win against them, but it’s been to no avail.


The only good thing that’s happened is that I’ve made one friend. A person I had breakfast with. He did not eat. He was afraid to eat because he thought he might be poisoned. He’s also a target of the U.S. government. He’s been a target longer than I’ve been, about eleven years. I’ve made other friends, virtual friends, and they’re all targets, too. It feels good to be able to speak with someone who knows what I’m going through. We don’t really have that much contact with each other, but should we need each other, we’ll be there for each other. It makes a hell of a lot of difference in my life. I can feel and touch another target. It’s great!


Hopefully, in a year’s time, this hell will have ended. I hope I can read this letter and laugh about it all!


So, Self, I’m keeping my fingers crossed things work out for me and other targets. We’re all sick and tired of the abuse we’ve endured. It’s time for all of it to come to an end. We want our lives back.




Neverending1 (will never use this name again if I’m liberated)


I found writing this letter hopeful. Hopeful that I will not be in the situation I’m in a year from now.


Signing off at 9:35 p.m., July 17, 2011


Contact Info: http://neverending1.WordPress.com