Tag Archive | laughed

Gang Stalking – Another day in Perplandia.


Abuse (Photo credit: Ex-InTransit)

English: Portrait of a girl from Portugal

Paw prints

Paw prints (Photo credit: Dvortygirl)

English: Fingerprint

English: Fingerprint (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Smiley, request for politeness, white background

I noticed when I was cleaning my glass table today that there were fingerprints all over it.  I put my fingers next to the old fingerprints to see if they were mine. No match whatsoever. My fingerprints are round, and the prints on my table were long.  Not only were there prints, but dog paw prints. They had a dog on the table in my apartment.

Welcome to another day in Perplandia.  Perplandia, a land where abuse is as common as a cup of coffee.  Where abuse is the normal order of  a target’s day.  A place where someone can’t even be polite.

I accidently ran into a little girl.  I said, “Oh, I’m sorry.”  She put her hands on her hip and replied, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, excuse me, excuse me. What’s up with that?”  Her mother stood by and laughed.

This little girl was about six-years-old.  She sounded like a twenty-year old.  I could almost hear her mother’s voice. I’m sure she’s heard her mother say the things she said to me a hundred times or more.

I couldn’t believe the little girl’s demeanor.  It was so unsettling to me that someone this young was such a bitch at her age.

It doesn’t matter how nice we are to the people in Perplandia.  The people in Perplandia don’t understand someone who is polite.  This little girl  made fun of my politeness to her.     This is not a rare occurrence where someone made fun of my politeness to them. It’s done all the time.  No matter what we targets do, it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

Don’t you know the perps are perfect humans?  Perps don’t sneeze, touch their hair, pick their nose, touch their ear, cough, laugh, fart, poop, burp, smell.  No, no, they just make fun of us targets doing these things.

The truth is, I’ve never seen such a bunch of  misfits.  Most of them are dirty-looking, heavy, smelly, not stylist, uneducated miscreants.

But it doesn’t matter how they look or smell, they feel superior to us targets.  They feel superior to us because they’ve been given the right to abuse us.  They can abuse us and get away with it.  No one is going to stop them.  The government has given them the power to dump on us.  And it makes them feel powerful.  Probably the first time in their lives, they’ve been given  any kind of power.  And power corrupts.

That’s why gang stalking works.  It works because of people like these. It gives them a purpose in life.  And they’re made to feel important for the first time in their lives.     They’re made to feel very important, and getting that pat on the back is addictive.  Why would anyone want to give that up?

Isn’t living in Perplandia such fun?

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Gang Stalking – I walked away.


Albertsons (Photo credit: Editor B)

English: Inside the Walmart (still branded as ...

English: Inside the Walmart (still branded as Wal-Mart) at West Plains, Missouri. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Warning:  What I’m going to write about is not a nice subject, so be forewarned.!!!

This happened about six or seven days ago.  I don’t remember how many days it is.  I was so angry when it happened, I couldn’t write about it.  I had to take a few days to calm myself down. And now, I’m able to write about what happened.

I was standing by Albertsons trying to find some money in my handbag.  I was by a side of Albertsons where no one goes. While looking through my bag, a man came along and stood in front of me.  I kept looking for my money and finally found it.  I looked up to see a man who had a broken leg and was on crutches.  I looked at him and he looked at me. He began talking, but I didn’t hear anything he said. I looked at him with no expression on my face.  While we looked at each, he took his right arm, reached down to his crotch and began playing with his “privates.”  He looked  me and smiled a creepy smile.  I stood expressionless.

I thought to myself:  should I say something?  should I keep quiet?  should I find something and break his other leg so he won’t be able to walk?  Or take my pointy shoe and hit him in his crotch?

The man kept talking and touching himself  and I just stood there.  It wasn’t that I was afraid to say anything, I just didn’t know what to do.

I decided to turn around and walk away.

This is not the first time this happened to me.

About a year or so ago, this same thing happened.

I was in Wal-Mart standing in one of the aisles looking for something I needed.  I saw a man standing by me, but paid no attention to him. But I kept getting a creepy feel, so I automatically turned  and saw the man playing with his “privates.”  He looked at me and smiled.  I gave him a nasty look and called him a pervert, and walked to another aisle.  He followed me to the other aisle and kept playing with himself.  I again called him a pervert and left the aisle.

About ten minutes later, I was outside the women’s room waiting to go the bathroom.  And guess who came along? The pervert. He just stood watching me.  Two men came out  of the bathroom and he said something to them.  They were friends.  They all began laughing.  One of the other men  also began playing with his “privates.” They all kept laughing and seemed to be enjoying themselves.  I walked away without saying anything.

But for the following week, everywhere I went,  men played with their “privates.”  A lot of little boys, too. Little Mexican boys who were doing it in front of their mothers, and their mothers laughed, too.

That means that the perp went to his weekly meeting and told everybody what he did to me. That’s how bold these sickos are. They don’t care what they do to us, as long as they get attention and applause from other perps.

Maybe I shouldn’t even be writing about this. Maybe what happened to me a year ago will start all over again.

But I thought I should write about it, because I want to warn others about what to expect of the perps.  I want they to know that they can expect everything and anything from the sickos who harass us.

So that’s why I walked away about seven days ago. I didn’t want the perps to have something to report about what I said.

I wonder if such an act is against the law?

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

Gang Stalking – Thrown out of store.

Cashier Lady at the Queens Boulevard White Cas...

Cashier Lady at the Queens Boulevard White Caste, NYC (Photo credit: ChrisGoldNY)

Gesture raised fist with middle finger lifted

Gesture raised fist with middle finger lifted (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Grocery Store Signage | Exterior Grocery Store...

Grocery Store Signage | Exterior Grocery Store Remodel | Supermarket Upgrade | Chelan Red Apple (Photo credit: I-5 Design & Manufacture)

Today, about four hours ago, I was thrown out of  a store.

I went into the store to get some groceries.   When I went into the store, the store was  empty.  Within two minutes of entering the store,  about eighteen people entered all at once.  They weren’t together.  It’s  really strange to have all  those people entering  at once.   Of  course, all perps.  None of them  got any groceries.  They all got a soda  or water and stood in line.   Of course, they waited for me to finish my shopping before getting in line. As soon as they saw me coming, they all got in line.  There was  only one cashier and the line was very long.  The perps were laughing and looking at me and making  remarks.

I tried as hard as I could to keep my mouth shout and not say anything, but I opened my mouth and began to tell them all off.  Of  course, they looked at  me and gave me the look they always do.   The look  that says “what’s  your problem?”     They always act so innocent, because  they want me to think I’m crazy and there’s nothing going on.

But all the freaks were laughing and looking at each other and having a good old-time making fun of me.

While the perps were all laughing, another cashier opened his register. I ran over to the cashier. While I was waiting to pay,  he made a few nasty remarks and I responded in kind. Two women were in front of me and gave me dirty looks.  I gave them dirty looks back, and both began saying nasty things to me. I told them off, too.  The women paid and stood by the register talking to the man.  The man turned to me and said, “I won’t be ringing up your order today. Come back another day.”

I replied, “Oh, it’s okay. I won’t be coming back here again.”

One of the woman replied, “Oh, good.”

As I walked out the store, I gave the cashier  the finger and told him to drop dead.

The freaks all act as if they’re  so perfect and happy.

Yeah, I know they’re all miserable people.  If they weren’t miserable people they wouldn’t be doing what they’re doing. They’d be somewhere else living their lives. But, no, they’re were all in the store trying to tear me down, and make themselves feel better.

I wish every one of the miserable bastards would go to hell.  They’re all worthless pieces of shit.

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