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Refuse To Participate In The Charade

Posted by Eldon J. Brown on July 6, 2017
Posted in: Gangstalking. Leave a comment

Refuse to participate in the charade

Refuse to participate in the charade they call “reality”. What do I mean by that, you ask? I mean that if you are not aware of what Gang Stalking is, a catch all term for Satan’s kingdom on Earth, then you need to be, you then need to cease your participation. I say cease participating simply because if you don’t know what Gang Stalking is then you most likely have unwittingly aided and abetted. Not your fault, you along with everyone else were born into the preexisting structure of this world. If you are reading this however, you now have a decision to make. Will you now be part of the solution or, part of the problem? And if you are reading this, it is by no coincidence either, you are being given a choice. No such thing as neutral ground here. Sometimes the most consequential events in life have the humblest of beginnings.

Read about Gang Stalking on my blog and anywhere else you can find, some will be “them” spreading disinfo but you need to learn how to spot it anyway. Again, unfortunately, the only way to really be able to spot it (and them for that matter) is to actually be attacked. Sorry but it’s true, the only way that you learn who someone truly is, is to fight them. You are going to have to sacrifice some skin to really know.

How to not participate? Well, the more you learn about The Devil’s Kingdom and how it is administered through human beings, simply refuse to participate in that thing. Don’t lie, don’t cheat other people, don’t take other people’s stuff, don’t kill outside of war (murder). Follow the Golden Rule, do unto others as you would want them to do to you. Not only a commandment but a warning; on the Day of Judgement God will put you in the shoes of everyone you touched in life. What you do to people you do to yourself, good and bad.

Finally, Gang Stalking is part of a system of control. It encompasses every level of life and is not of human design. It is a system originated by the minds of non-human entities, hideously intelligence and unfathomably powerful. A belief in God is not required to fight Gang Stalking however, ultimate success cannot be achieved without him. A human alone cannot effectively resist. Did you catch that I said “non-human entities”? Christians call them Fallen Angels, other faiths have other words. Call them what you will. Their principle deity however, was far more intelligent and powerful than any angel. The Cherub whose earthly kingdom we fight (should fight) also known as Satan.

As you learn more about what Gang Stalking is, refuse to participate in those things whether they be people, companies, organizations or faiths, just stop and drop out.

Remember the Golden Rule, do unto others as you would have them do unto you since you may as well be doing it to yourself.

Stratford man displays Nazi flag in protest

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Missing my Mom

Posted by Eldon J. Brown on June 8, 2017
Posted in: Corporate Crime, Personal. Leave a comment

I will talk about my Mom and who she was as a person at some point in the future but for now it is just too soon. I’m too busy just trying to avoid things that remind me of the stuff we used to do together, like this weekends upcoming Crossroads Of The West Gun Show at the Cowpalace here in San Francisco. For some reason, one of the gardening shows that runs on KSFO on the weekends was adverting the annual 2017 Orchid Show usually held in February at Fort Mason. I started making plans to attend that in her honor since she never missed it except for one year when she got sick with an abdominal adhesion. I was right by her side then too. Then the Orchid Show promoter gave the starting date of the two day show as being in February. I was so disappointed. I had my hopes built up by a re-run. I had made plans to finish my soft pastel of an Orchid hanging from a branch to bring to the show on a big art clipboard, perhaps to sell or perhaps to talk about. Ma never saw it so I intended it to be an homage to her. Alas, I guess I’ll have to wait until next year, that is if I haven’t been murdered as well by then.

Yeah, it was kind of a family tradition she had every year for just the two of us, the only family each of us had. First, we we would go to the Orchid Show in February, then to the Oakland Museum’s annual White Elephant Sale in March for her birthday (I didn’t like it and usually had to be drug along) and finally to the Crossroads Of The West Gun Show which ran about every month or so. Really, all three events were a kind of birthday celebration for her, I had become bored with them long ago but continued for her sake, she enjoyed them since they also gave us a chance to do something together. I’m beginning to choke up as I’m writing this, which is one reason I’ve been avoiding writing about her. It is with great effort that I keep myself distracted and busy to avoid becoming sad, or angry. Thank God I have my Lord and Savior Jesus to fall back on, without his comforts and assurances I just don’t know what I would do. Thanks to Him and The Father (and THE Comforter The Holy Spirit) I’m able to carry on knowing that one day I will see her again. Thank you father, thank you Jesus and thank you Holy Spirit. Thank you so much…

We usually took Bay Area Paratransit to these events with me as her attendant. I didn’t like traveling this way though as we had been abandoned at the Fort Mason Orchid show once, they had abandoned her there almost every year yet she continued to put her trust and faith in them. I thought it elder abuse. She was constantly urging me to apply for the “service” for the disabled but I didn’t like them. They would regularly fail to show up for return trips and would leave people stranded, unforgivable in my opinion. She liked them though, she liked all public transportation until I bought her the car. Fulfillment of a promise that I made to her as a child, to buy her a white Cadillac. The Cadillac turned out to be a brown Ford Crown Victoria but it was close enough, she finally had her car. It was the only car she ever owned in her entire life, close enough and she fell in love with it. From that day forward she rarely rode AC Transit nor BART again. Sometimes we would drive by a bus stop and see an old woman waiting in the dark for a bus and she would marvel, “that used to be me before you bought me the car.” At least I can feel good about taking her off public transit for the rest of her life. I hated it and often bought cars that I shouldn’t have to avoid riding bus and BART. I would have bought a car for her long ago but she was always insisting that when she owned a car “it had to be brand new with everything working, you promised me a white Cadillac and I’m still waiting…” “OK Ma, that will probably never happen but it’s your show…” Until her (what I thought to be unreasonable) standards were met, she was content to ride the buses and BART. When I finally got enough money together to buy a car (used of course) that I thought would hopefully measure up, I went ahead and bought it for her birthday from an Auto Return auction. It looked almost new in the interior and body but when I started it up the only gear that worked was reverse. I had to drive it backwards for three very long industrial length blocks all the way to Tech1 auto next to the Ajax Salvage yard for repairs. One week and $900 dollars later ($3,750 total) the car looked good and ran good, it was ready for presentation to ma for her birthday. She was in shock.

I had noticed that the top of the doors were very pointed on top and that if you weren’t careful, could hit you in the face when opening. Well, it was her first day out with the car and we were trying it out, getting all the seat and mirror adjustments right for her tiny little frame, when I cautioned her about the door being a hazard. As I explained she just had this stunned look of wonder and disbelief on her face as she sat behind the wheel, like she just couldn’t believe that this was actually her very own car, the very first and only car that she was ever to fully own, at Seventy One (71) years of age. I went on and on before we left, demonstrating and preaching to her over and over again about how dangerous the car door was when getting in and out, how if you did not consciously hold onto the pointed edge it could catch you right in the face. When we arrived at our destination of Barnes and Nobles in El Cerrito Plaza I had to use the bathroom and again preached to her about being careful about the door. She paid diligent attention to what I said and nodded that she understood. When I came back from the bathroom, Ma was seated in the driver’s seat with a bloody nose and a laceration across her bridge. I said, “Ma, what happened??” Ma said, “I was getting into the driver’s seat and the door hit me in the nose.” I said, “Ma, didn’t I just get finished telling you to be careful about the door because it could hit you in the face??” She sat defiant for a moment looking straight ahead and gripping the steering wheel with both hands, then angrily said, “I want you to take back this defective car and exchange it for another one tomorrow!” All I could do was shake my head. I then asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital but she refused and gripped the steering wheel even tighter, wiggled in her seat and said with a defiant voice, “Okay, come on Linda (her name), you’re going to have to learn this big car…” or something to similar effect, I don’t remember exactly but anyway, she was determined to own that car and show it who was boss. I was shocked at her vehemence and a little scared, I hadn’t seen her like that many times before, you know, really determined to get back on that horse. Oh, she had been in a horrific car accident when she was a young woman that almost killed her, I think she may have been having a flashback. Wow, this is the very first time that thought occurred to me. Anyway, she slammed the car in gear and gunned the engine. Again, I was flabbergasted.

I never understood how she tolerated public transit so nobly. To her, there was absolutely no shame whatsoever in catching the bus nor in riding BART. She had an incredibly organized library of every Bay Area transit system’s schedules and routes, from County Connection to AC Transit to West Cat to BART. All the different county transit systems were organized by date and number in little boxes, she would make special trips just to collect them.

As a side note, that was another thing about ma, if there was a pamphlet or brochure or any kind of paper information wherever she went, those pamphlets and brochures were coming home with her. She would stand in front of a rack of them and meticulously collect each and every one in duplicate, sometimes in triplicate and if that wasn’t enough, she would have me collect a complete set as well. That was one reason for the hoarding problem, I reluctantly threw away so many pamphlets and periodicals from decades ago that were neatly bound with rubber bands advertising places that had long since gone out of business yet, their advertisements had been lovingly curated by her. She even put the date and year of acquisition on each one, some with a little note inside as to it’s relevance. Probably the only ones left in existence anywhere, even the former proprietors. Whenever we would go somewhere, I had started getting into the habit of loudly announcing that we didn’t need any advertisements nor brochures as we began to leave, while she stood mesmerized in front of whatever rack of them there were. It became a running joke for us.

Well, I had been avoiding doing this until I got a little stronger and I was correct, it was rough. A couple attacks of nausea and some tears shed but, if I don’t write her story, who will? She had wanted to write a book about her life, about growing up in Stilwell Oklahoma and Haskell/Wyndot Indian Boarding Schools, having to wear flour sack dresses because they were so poor (she got teased by the other children), having to take care of her younger sisters (one, Arlene, developmentally disabled) at the age of five, walking for miles at night through the woods to Grannies house, carrying the one sister on her back and holding the hand of the other (Lena), all of them in tears hoping that they weren’t eaten by the Wolves that hunted at night. About working as a waitress in some of the roughest bars in town, often being the only bouncer yet maintaining the love and dedication of her patrons. She would often tell me that when she quit one bar because the owner was demanding sex, that all of his customers would follow her to her new place of employment. That was how well she was liked. She never had Social Security taxes taken out by the way, which caused problems when trying to retire. About all the men and boyfriends she had, some for fun, some for love and some out of mutual necessity, she had many stories about them. About the relationship she had with her parents before they died, she loved them both dearly even though they had horribly abused and abandoned her as a child, finally lovingly reconciled in adult years. About how she raised me as a single, older mother on welfare (a baby of mixed ethnicity since my father was black) and all of the difficulties that come with AFDC/Food Stamp poverty.
She loved to dance, sew, cook and she loved me, her screwed up son who did weird things and was constantly in some sort of trouble. Damn, I miss her so much. She was a good person throughout her life and never so much as got a parking ticket until recently (because of me of course), she was also Christian.

My mother had a pretty bad learning disability and was probably somewhat developmentally disabled. She had three full sisters and brothers, two of which were “retarded”, Arlene being deaf as well. I suspect that her mother (my Grandmother) Sallie may have damaged my mother’s brain during the child abuse that featured beatings until unconscious and whippings until blood was drawn. I really think my Grandma gave my mom some mild brain damage. You could kind of tell that she was a little slow sometimes, other times she was sharp as a tack. It was weird, it kind of came and went. Some things she was very swift to pick up on and understand, more so than others, and then some things were hard for her to understand. She did drink a lot until the age of 46 when she quit “cold turkey” but, I don’t think that had a lot to do with it. As she got into her senior years it just became expected that faculties were failing and camouflaged what I knew to have been there long before. I think she may have been employable but by the time I was out of the house, she was near retirement age anyway.

A lifetime full of nothing but deprivation and hardship, and then to be murdered in her senior years by some piece of crap Satanic Gang Stalkers. Well, at least she if finally free now. I am so sorry Ma, I wish life had been better for you but am so glad you are free at last and back with the family you so faithfully loved, she missed them so much. Bittersweet, bittersweet for me…

Well, there are so many more stories to tell but I’m feeling really bad right now, really heartsick. I can’t take any more reminiscing and am going to have to go distract myself now with some activity or another. Maybe I’ll go talk to one of my crazy neighbors, their lives are almost as screwed up as mine and can serve that purpose nicely. On top of it all, it’s raining outside, it was raining when she died too. The old Indians say that when someone dies and it rains, that the deceased went to Heaven. Again, bittersweet. Bittersweet for me today.

P.S. I don’t want you reading this and getting the wrong idea, I still firmly believe in fighting for what is right and just, even though the price paid has been the murder of my mother. My mother was murdered by someone at the behest of her landlord, because I threatened the landlord with administrative action over the conditions of my mother’s building. My mother was due for a Section Eight habitability inspection and the new Latina landlord was doing a per-inspection. Due to my mother’s hoarding, every time one of these landlord per-inspections had occurred, I was blamed for not helping my mother clean up. As with most hoarders, my mother allowed me to touch nothing in her house. I made the mistake of trying to clean up when she was in the hospital for her adhesion and threw away three items that I thought to be trash, a two colanders and some small empty cardboard boxes. I never heard the end of it. After that, anytime she couldn’t find something she would adamantly accuse me of having thrown it away. It was ridiculous. I should have known better because the Gang Stalkers in the building had been entering her apartment and “Gas Lighting” her, ever since I got her the car in fact. My problem with the Gang Stalkers had transferred to her and they were now messing with the both of us. Well I told my mother that her house being in such disarray with clutter was a vulnerability, her Achilles Heel and a vector for management (Gang Stalkers) to use for attack. I warned her that she could legitimately be evicted for keeping a junky house and that I could possibly be charged with neglecting an elder. After all that I had been through, and all the attacks exploiting every possible vulnerability, I sincerely believed this not only possible but imminent. You don’t know how much we had both been through. It got so bad at one point my mom filed a burglary complaint with the San Pablo Police and put handwritten signs up chastising the perpetrators. Well, I told her “Ma, I will help you clean up, all you have to do is tell me what to do. I know that when the manager comes in to inspect, she is going to be saying “”What about your Son, your Son? Can’t he help you clean up??”” If that happens, I am going to defend myself.” Sure enough, those were almost the first words out of the manager’s mouth when she began to inspect. I sensed that this was a wicked woman and interrupted her insinuations concerning me by informing her that I knew State building codes and that my mom’s building had a lot of code violations. I also told her that I knew the City’s building code inspector and would pay him a visit with some of those violations. I did this in an attempt to back her off both me and my mom, in my mind, I was defending us both against the Gang Stalkers. My mom heard the things that I was saying but did not stop me, she had done similar with previous landlords of the building in the past as well. The new landlady listened to me intently but said little, her only response was some veiled threat with a deadpan face that I had seen on one other psychopath before, then she left. Later that day the Section Eight Housing inspector came and completed his inspection. He did not indicate whether my mom passed or not as they never do, you find that out from the landlord. The very next day at exactly 7:30 pm in the evening is when my mother had her massive stroke while watching TV, I was on the other side of the room on my laptop.

She had been sitting quietly on the couch drinking the cup of coffee that I made her and watching ET, one of her favorite TV programs. All of a sudden she said “My head hurts.” I looked over at her and she had a slight frown on her face. A few seconds later I heard her both vomit and belch at the same time (will have to continue later, out of time)

A little more about me…

Posted by Eldon J. Brown on June 8, 2017
Posted in: Uncategorized. Leave a comment

Today is June 6th, 2017 @ 5:38 pm. I’m here in the All Star Hotel after an aborted attempt to travel over to the East Bay to take care of some personal business. Life is just one big test of endurance now. I mean, what can you really do when almost every other breath has you sucking in some myriad of noxious substances that appear out of thin air, either as a gas cloud or from within your nostrils. Just think about that for a moment, what if every other breath you took had you breathing in some irritating substance that caused you to immediately want to wash your face and mouth out followed by copious expectoration (spitting)? Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month etc., for three years? Oh, then there’s the extreme tinnitus caused by the toxins, along with esophageal burning, nausea or acid reflux, running nose and watering eyes. Non stop, for three years?

Then there’s the disruption to your sleep, effectively turning you into a zombie during the day because you wake up so many times through the night gagging. You miss critical dates and appointments because you’re sleep deprived, bad things start to happen. Things like not moving your car for street cleaning because you were catching up on sleep. Seventy one dollars gone for nothing. Or being late to an appointment because you were so deep in sleep you slept right through the alarm. Perhaps you didn’t even write it down because you were so groggy that you forgot. Sleeping through the day because just as you are about to doze off at night you get repeatedly blasted in the face by some noxious substance that either sickens you, makes your ears ring loudly (tinnitus) or irritates your skin and mucous membranes. Every day, non-stop, for three years.

Using Baby Oil by the pint to keep your skin and lips from cracking since almost every one of the many substances they blast in you face very effectively dries out your skin. Sometimes it even dries out your eyes causing what appears to be “Pink Eye”. Tissue and paper towel must be kept handy at all times, as well as a bottle of water with which to flush and irrigate with. You’ve long since abandoned any conscientiousness about how it looks as you stop in the middle of the sidewalk and loudly blow snot from each nostril and then proceed to flush with water followed by a coating of Baby Oil. People stare and make inquisitive comments like “what is that?” or, “he’s sick, something is wrong with him.” You don’t care, all you care about is getting whatever crap you were dosed with back out.

I can’t walk down the long halls of the All Star Hotel without running into some noxious cloud that makes me sick and irritates my the skin on my face. Entering or leaving my front door requires me to pass through another noxious gas cloud. The same for the kitchen or the bathroom, the stairs or the community room. My neighbors complain that I make the community TV room too cold because I open all the windows and sometimes augment the attempts to ventilate with a fan. I tell some of them what is happening but they just look at me with blank stares. Sometimes I use a plastic container lid as a shield held up in front of my nose and mouth while moving about throughout the hotel and it seems to help more often than not. Even while taking a shower, the gassing continues. Much easier to wash off there however.

This has been life for me every day now, for about three years. Sometimes it is better, sometimes worse but again I ask you, if this were you, what would you do?

As for me, I talk to the phantom perpetrators and describe what Hell will be like, once they get down there. I flip off no one in particular right after a heavy blast of poison. I also tell them (speaking to the air of course) that were they to accept Christ they could avoid being accountable for all this but, that I also think them too stupid to take him up on Salvation. All this and a few things more are really just acts of defiance and mental toughness to bolster my spirits and display to them that I will never capitulate. I will never stop advocating for what is right, never surrender to this torture, never do anything that they try to push me into doing. Of course it goes without saying that I will also never, ever blame God for my plight nor do anything contrary to his will. He is blameless and worthy only of thanks and praise.

Thank you father for allowing your precious son Jesus to be murdered for my sake. Thank you Jesus for going through the humiliation and disgrace so that I may have a chance at eternal life. Thank you father God for even giving me the knowledge of who you are, what you have done for me and that you love me in spite of being worthy of Hell. I cannot shout your praises loud enough nor would one lifetime suffice. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

It is an honor and a privilege to be attacked by Satan and his children, some of whom aren’t even human. It is a privilege to come into the full knowledge of the war and to be promoted to the front lines. “Give all thanks and praise when they persecute you for my name’s sake”. Did you know that Jesus has kept his own scars from the time when he was crucified for the World? He still has to this day, bloody wounds in his feet and hands, his side where pierced by a spear, on his head where he was forced to wear a crown of thorns. He has chosen to keep them as glory to the Father for the work which he completed, we will all, both saved and damned, see them on the Day Of Judgement when he is seated on his thrown at the right hand of God The Father. Thank you so much Gang Stalkers, because I too will now have scars of my own that I can show to my Lord, scars acquired in his honor. What an honor and a privilege. You already have my forgiveness whenever you are ready to repent. “If you will not forgive others, I will not forgive you.” sayeth The Lord.

Yep, that’s how I’ve made it through this long suffering. I’ve been initiated into an elite class counting among it’s membership the likes of Job, Paul The Apostle, John The Baptist, Noah, Meshach, Shadrach and Abednego, King David, Ezekiel, Martin Luther, Dr. Martin Luther King and most of all, God himself, Jesus The Christ. “If you’ve seen me then you’ve seen the Father.” and “No man cometh to the Father but by Me.”

Of course, I’m just an amoebae in this pond of big fish but wow, at least I’m there and getting to see some of the things that they saw, learn some of the things they learned, do work for God in like manner as they did, with all gladness and suffering. I could not be happier, even though a little tired.

I still miss my Mom but am glad she is no longer in pain and with family gone on. She kept meaning to go back to Church and learn the Bible but now she has the face of God himself. Even though her death was very traumatic, I’m happy for her. Bye Ma, see you soon in God’s good time, I’ve still got work to do.

One encouraging thing was that I did get a chance to explain all this to some young people at my last job and to my surprise, they were very receptive and inquisitive. They are the future and are where the focus should be, it is only a young mind that has enough flexibility to set aside their programming to entertain new realities. It was very refreshing and encouraging to be around them and their exuberance for life. I like young folks and wish the best for them.

I also spoke with a woman who was somewhat familiar with Gang Stalking and had even watched one of my videos on my Youtube channel prior to meeting. She however, was more oriented to Islam and other Eastern religions. Although we both shared some similar experiences and held many beliefs in common, our differing theological convictions kept us from truly harmonizing. That disappointed me because I thought I had finally found a confidant, ain’t too many people you can have this talk with, ya know? I think she later got mad at me because I stole her thunder as the go to person for candy. She had become known as “The Candy Lady” for handing out both soft and hard candies. Then one day at lunch I just didn’t want my Hershey Chocolate Bar With Almonds (three of them) and decided to give them away. The next two days I did the same thing. I instantly became popular and had people sitting by me and talking to me, I think it made her mad. Anyway, c’est la vie…

Still trying to pick up the pieces after Ma. Just washed and conditioned the lock of hair I cut from her head while in the hospital, before she was cremated. That, a fingernail clipping, her phone, dentures and purse are all that I have left. I kept the clothes that she died in as well. I had to wash and condition the lock of hair because after three months in a Ziploc it had started growing black fungus or mold or something. My mom had a hard time washing her hair due to two rotator cup tears that left her arms almost useless, her hair had not been washed in a month. So, after gently washing with Dawn anti-bacterial dish washing soap and then liberally conditioning with a trial bottle of Pantene conditioner, I combed and rinsed it and have it hanging to dry. I will then re-bag it along with her fingernail clipping, all that I have left of her.

 

Friends and the Targeted Individual

Posted by Eldon J. Brown on June 8, 2017
Posted in: Gangstalking, Personal. Leave a comment

I’ve got these two “friends” whom no matter how much nor how many different ways I try to explain to them exactly what is happening to me, they just won’t listen. My advice to you is that when you encounter such a person, don’t waste your time. Excommunicate them from your life.

“There are none so blind as those whom refuse to see.”

I know, I know, they may have some very admirable qualities about them and in general, be very nice and decent people but, you must refrain. Get away from them and keep it that way. Here is the reason why…

They can be flipped and turned into your unwitting enemies, they make some of the best recruits for stalking. Who better to spy on you than someone that you trust? A true friend would never do such a thing but a person who thinks that they are being your friend by protecting you from yourself is, well, a friend of a whole different sort, more cunning than any enemy.

You see, in order for them to discount everything you try to tell them, one of three beliefs about you in their minds have to be true.

1) That you are stupid,
2) That you are stupid and Bat Shit crazy or finally,
3) That you are both stupid, super Bat Shit crazy and potentially dangerous.

Get away from such people, they are very dangerous to you since they discount you as a fully qualified human being like themselves. They are not your friends, they do not respect you, they do not value you either, other than for your entertainment value and to them, you are more akin to a pet or an animal. Not only that, they actually believe themselves to be both smarter and more sane than you. In their eyes you are either handicapped by delusions and in need of being cared for or, more detrimentally, are a dangerous “sicko” in need of restraining. Try not to show too much emotion when in their presence, especially jubilation nor anger. It may frighten them and cause them to think that you’ve finally lost it, even though they do the exact same things themselves. Remember, they think themselves better than you and therefore, are allowed to do things that you may not. They are the smart and sane ones after all, worthy of all trust and confidences, no grandiosity here…

People such as these are terrible threats since they are so close to you. They generally mean well but will act in ways contrary to your best interests since, they have no respect for neither your knowledge nor experience and consequently discount most everything you tell them. What they experience when you try talking to them about matters unconventional are both Cognitive Dissonance and Normalcy Bias. As I was told by one such person, “I value my peace of mind (above what you are trying to tell me)”. I nicknamed him “Baby Baphomet” on account of his so closely resembling the aforementioned half man, half goat “deity” by sporting a long goatee and having worked for Amazon.com as a delivery driver. Employment to which he hoped to return one day. Hey, I gotta keep it light somehow, right? Amazon is very Satanic by the way, an integral part of fulfilling the whole not being able to buy nor sell without worshiping the Beast biblical prophecy thing. Their robotic warehouses, robotic trucks and order fulfillment by drones (soon to be the scourge of “Baby Baphomet’s” existence) are all very anti-human. Don’t mention their transforming communities into retail cultural wastelands either. People used to rub elbows and interact while shopping, fostering cultural promiscuity. You know, like at stores and malls? Not anymore. “Baby Baphomet” refused to work with me after making that statement, which I completely understood. After all, who wants to be around some guy who talks about how awesome true reality actually is? Only a small minority of people do, I suppose… Maybe, he had more in common with Baphomet than just his visage… Hmmm.

The Grand Satanic Conspiracy coming partly through technology. Ever heard of it? Get familiar then. Wait a minute, familiarity breeds contempt, does it not? On second thought, consider this…

Your so called “friends” who think that you are delusional and possibly Bat Shit crazy, but otherwise an all together wonderful person, may secretly hate you too. Kinda sort of a love/hate thing, they love the positive things about you but hate you for them at the same time too? You know, because you are sooo much more awesome than they are? I jest of course, but there is a little truth there. We’ve all had them at one time or another, “frienemies” that smile in your face but secretly plot your death behind your back, all the while wishing that they were as beautiful as you? If you ever do manage to get through to your disbelieving “friends”, you may likely only end up with frienemies for your efforts. Familiarity does breed contempt after all, and envy perhaps too, that your life is so much more dramatic than their own. If only they understood (or believed) the price required for such drama. Definitely no need to go climbing any mountains, that’s for sure.

Anyway, I have two such “friends”.

When you are being Gang Stalked, your reputation and credibility are always under attack. This is a death program after all and therefore, conforms to the rules of tidy assassination. Your reputation and character must first be destroyed before you yourself can actually be disposed of, that way, who cares that you are dead, no risk of blow-back. Hell many may consider them to have actually done humanity a service by getting rid of your bat shit crazy, dangerous self… Never mind the fact that the killers are in fact cold, calculating, Satanic serial murderers themselves, but I digress.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do like and enjoy the company of my two willfully ignorant friends, we share many things in common. One enjoys conspiracies like I do, even though he is stuck on old ones that he keeps trying to re-tread and present to me as new. My other “friend” and I both share a love of cars, especially trucks and ones that go fast. One has a criminal background and the other has never committed a crime in his life. One is black and the other is white (black one is innocent, white one criminal). Couldn’t be two different people and are very interesting folk in their own right but both have two critical flaws, they like me as a friend but think I’m full of hot air. They also consort with stalkers whom they don’t know are stalkers because stalkers don’t exist to them. I don’t like that one either.

As far as I’m concerned, if you are my friend and are also friends with someone that I don’t like, that is between you and the other person, it doesn’t have anything to do with our friendship. The only exception is when the other person is a Gang Stalker, now that’s different. If I’ve identified or even suspect the other person to be a stalker, then I inform my friend of my concerns. Based upon the reaction I get, I then decide whether or not to distance myself. It’s more of an art than a science. Some friends who consort I have just totally cut loose without so much as a warning (cold, I know). Others, like the two aforementioned, I try to salvage. At a certain point however, I have to think of my own safety and back away no matter how much I may like the person. If they refuse to accept reality then what else can I do?

So, my advice to you as a Targeted Individual is to choose your friends wisely, considering all that you now know about true reality. It is a painful exercise but a necessary one if you value both your life and reputation. Remember, the Gang Stalkers like using people close to you, those whom you know and trust. If that person is oblivious to or willfully ignorant of what is actually happening, they can be used to either compromise or even harm you without knowing that that is in fact, exactly what they are doing. Ignorents and disbelievers cannot be trusted. Remember the movie “The Matrix” when Morpheous explains this very same thing to Neo? How those who are “hopelessly inured to and dependent on the system will fight to protect it”? Cognitive Dissonance in action… Cognitive Dissonance is the pain one experiences when their world view is turned upside down and the rug pulled out from under them. Most people will choose to stick with the fantasy since reality is just too painful.

Ignorents and disbelievers are dangerous to keep too close, worse than the complicit because at least you can see those suckers coming most of the time. Not so with supposed “friends”, they have a measure of your trust just waiting to be exploited by “them”.

If no one else respects you, be damn sure to respect yourself. You know who you are and what is actually happening to you even if no one else does. To quote one of my favorite characters in the movie “Scorchers, “Don’t ever let nobody talk you out of what you know to be true”, you hold fast to your convictions about what life (God) has shown you. It wasn’t meant for anyone else but you since you are a unique individual with unique experiences and a unique life apart from everyone else’s. Some were chosen for some things, others for other things. You were chosen for your own walk, don’t let anyone take you off course no matter how well intentioned. Another excellent movie that illustrates the point is Nicolas Cage’s movie “Knowing”. Watch that movie with the Director’s comments turned “on” in subtitles for the fully immersive experience. Great production (viewing?) value… I like the part where they talk about “Christian Myths”. Ha ha, what an oxymoron. Felt like I was back in my “World Religions” class and we got to the lesson subject entitled “Christian Mythology”. Ha, ha, ha. They’ll find out how real that “mythology” actually is eventually though…

Too da loo, enjoy the fantasy of this so called “life” whenever possible because in truth, reality sucks. Reality and those whom we choose to call “friends”. The very best friend you could possibly ever have is of course, Jesus Christ of the Bible. To be known as his friend is the highest of honors, just look at what he did for his friend Lazarus. Now that’s what I call a true friend indeed…

 

UPDATE: 05-16-2017_Still coming to terms with my mother’s murder and death

Posted by Eldon J. Brown on May 16, 2017
Posted in: Crime. Leave a comment

Just a quick update to let you know what is happening with me since my mother, Linda Goodmoney, was murdered by the Deep State due to a dispute with her landlord EAH Housing and my attempts to protect her from them.

I have been working steadily ever since the crime occurred, the only way that I could think of to shield my mind from the horrors of the event. One of the problems a person encounters when dealing with Gang Stalkers, their attacks and the nature of true reality, is that most people are oblivious. You are just crazy as far as they are concerned since they don’t see what you (and a minority of other Targeted Individuals) see. This can be absolutely isolating. At best, if you are believed, most people become frightened and prefer to ignore your plight since it is not happening to them, or so they think. Again, you are alone.

So, to deal with this in the only constructive way available to me, I procured employment. This is how I dealt with the pain of my last divorce and it is how I am dealing with this latest horror, now. Distraction by staying productive and not giving myself time to think too much. The Job, coupled with all of the problems that resulted from my mother’s death that continue to present, have provided me with an emotional and mental shield. I still feel it all, but have some sort of escape.

A great deal of police contact immediately followed my mothers death, from many different agencies. Call them attacks at a moment of vulnerability if you will. This resulted in a legal problem involving the car my mother and I bought together regarding it’s registration and it’s failure to pass a SMOG test (which prevents me from registering it). I’ve paid the DMV all the money it has asked for ($258) but still don’t have tags. A series of further mechanical problems with it have cascaded which now has me considering it a loss and junking it, the only reason we bought it being to provide me with transportation to keep check on her. An endeavor now moot. To top it off, my mother’s primary car (which I bought her) is experiencing mechanical problems that I must fix myself. Both cars are now down and my employment has been jeopardized. To cap it all off, purchase of the second car caused my mother to miss a life insurance payment and that policy (which would have greatly helped) has been lost. Am I under a Satanic curse? I feel like Job.

I have no plans to do anything destructive, “Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord”. That is not my job as a Christian. I am trying to forgive the taunts and glee of both my mother’s apartment manager and my own former apartment manager however, that is easier said than done. Hard to image people can be so lost and deluded as to think that God doesn’t exist nor mean what he says… If you have to find out on the Day Of Judgement it won’t be a pleasant experience. A terrifying experience beyond what is capable here on earth, and rightfully so. If you don’t ask Jesus to pay for your sins, you will have to. You do not want that. Many will learn the hard way.

So I’m broke now, have two dying cars and an impending court date for one (even though it did pass the emissions part of the SMOG test but failed the computer part). I ask you, if the car passed emissions but the SMOG Technician tells you that the car’s computer has to “re-learn” and that you have to drive for one hundred miles to to that, should Gang Stalkers force you off the freeway towards waiting CHP officers, so that the CHP can give you a ticket for not having registration tags on the car? Even though you paid the DMV everything they required ($200 in past and current registration fees)?? Yes, just as I was approaching two parked CHP officers on the side of the freeway at the Gilman St. exit in Berkeley, California, a red SUV forced me into their waiting arms. This is what Gang Stalking is all about. Wish I had a video of it. I believe they are hoping for a warrant for my arrest if I don’t take care of the ticket, or to junk the car, which still runs. Not complaining, just stating facts and an opinion…

I’m still here though, if not waiting for the next attack. The janitor at my building seems to be riding his bike by places in the City that I park again. The last time he did that they found a dismembered body in the trash can on the corner of the same street near the Goodwill on Mission. I wonder what horror will be in the news at the spot I was where he rode by me this time. Ah, you see? There I go sounding all crazy again.

Back to the Pablum most minds can digest (no insult intended). I remain in my current state of physical health. I am still experiencing noxious gasses being put in my face and nose incessantly however, I can still pass a physical. I have lost ten pounds due to stress and constantly moving while working.  My rent is fully paid, now that I made up for a month that I lapsed when my mother was killed ($1100). My mental state is stable if not troubled, I have no plans to do anything against the Will of God, I remain a Christian soldier on the battlefield although now I am all by myself. The Bible instructs us not to grieve for the dead as they are in a much better place with God, but it still happens from time to time. I still talk to my mother in my dreams, makes waking really sad though. Mother’s Day was a trial although not as bad as I thought it would be. I worked on the car, which went as expected (bad).  I’ve explained to my employer that I’m having transportation problems, we’ll see how well that goes. Steady and gainful employment remains elusive.

Faith in Jesus is the only way to go.

To be continued…

PS. Landlords are dangerous, have spoken to people who swear that they were burned out of their rent control apartments by the landlord. You can really see this in SF Arson crime statistics. I always wondered why a secular former friend of mine who was slightly mentally challenged, insisted that land ownership made you someone in society. His sister happened to be a corporate attorney in training and he took her words for gospel. Now, I understand what he meant and how seemingly true his insistence’s have proven to be.

Landowners are integral components of the Deep State (especially Landlords) and are integral functionaries as agents of control, much like Nobles of the past. If the Deep State picks the winners and losers, guess who you must ally with in order to become a “landlord”. Gang Stalking is yet another method of control and they both are components of Satan’s Kingdom here on Earth, among many others. Think about it.

Wake up, Saints. Wake up.

The Deep State Murdered My Mother Linda Goodmoney part 1

Posted by Eldon J. Brown on March 29, 2017
Posted in: Corporate Crime, Personal, Technology. Leave a comment

The Deep State Murdered My Mother Linda Goodmoney, attacked by a stroke inducing Directed Energy Weapon.

This is a story I did not want to have to write. On February 16th, 2017 at 7:30pm, my precious mother of 81 Ms. Linda Goodmoney, suffered a massive hemorrhagic stroke in her apartment sitting next to me on her couch. She missed her 82nd birthday by seventeen days. I miss her so much.

My mother was attacked inside of her apartment by a stroke inducing Directed Energy weapon, one that I suspect was fired from one of the neighboring apartments. She resided at The Casa Adobe Senior Apartments, 1924 Church Lane Apartment 305, in the city of San Pablo, California, 94806. The new manager of the apartment complex is Ms. Gabriella Caballero, a crass and heartless woman.

On February 15th, 2017 my mother was due for an annual Section 8 unit inspection which was performed in order to ensure that her unit was habitable and that the government wasn’t being defrauded. At Casa Adobe Senior Apartments as elsewhere, the apartment manager usually performed a pre-inspection of the unit to ensure that it would pass. The only problem was, my mom had been Gang Stalked by “Gas Lighting” (burglary) and had developed the psychosis of hoarding. In short, her place was a mess and she would not allow me to touch anything to help. When the burglaries first began she was frantic, I personally witnessed all of her possessions disappear. Her clothes, her towels, her sheets and even paper documents. Typical stuff for this type of harassment. In short, both my mother and I were Targeted Individuals and were being subjected to destruction. Poor Ma, she did the best she could.

Well, From the moment I had heard the new manager Gabriella Caballero speak I could tell she was an evil person. Most Targeted Individuals have some sort of ESP that allows them to see things otherwise not seen and I can usually tell when I’m in the presence of great evil. I will become very agitated for no obvious reason and may lash out, much like a threatened dog might who can’t discern it’s situation. I am the same and from the moment I heard this woman’s voice it rubbed me all kinds of wrong.

So, when new manager Gabriella Caballero came in to do her pre-inspection, I kind of freaked out. As a pre-emptive measure to take her attention off of my mothers hoarding, I pointed out that the building itself had code violations and that I knew how to access the citie’s building codes enforcement office. You see, every manager who had come in and complained about my mother’s hoarding invariably pointed out to her (in front of me) that she had a son who could help her clean up. Of course I had tried on many occasions but my mother would not let me help her. I pointed out to my mom that her place being in such a state was her “Achilles Heel” and that it was indefensible should they press the issue. So, I was simply trying to protect her with hollow threats about building codes. Little did I suspect that they would actually murder her to solve the problem.

That exchange between I and Ms. Caballero happened on February 15th, 2017, shortly before the Section 8 inspection later that day. When the Section 8 inspector showed up he went from room to room, asked if everything worked and left without saying whether my mom passed inspection or not. The next evening is when she had the stroke. When I spoke to Casa Adobe manager Ms. Gabriella Cabllero her demeanor was very flippant and irreverent. She told me that some “strange” lady who was a neighbor had wanted to go through my mothers belongings, and laughed about it. I took this to be a provocation and ignored her remark. On a successive conversation I asked her if she knew what Gang Stalking was and handed her one of my blog cards. She acted as though she misunderstood what I said by asking me, “You mean the man who is stalking you”? Sure enough, the next day I did spot a guy in a silver car surveilling me. A hitman I supposed.

I knew what had happened, of course I was filled with a flood of emotions. I cautioned Ms Caballero to mind her own health as these people of the Deep State often go behind me and commit crimes to make it look as though I were the perpetrator. She did not take me seriously. That would be all I need is to be falsely accused of harming someone however, it would be very standard procedure for them to do something like that, just read my blog of past framing attempts.

When I returned the keys and remote to manager Caballero, I did so with the San Pablo Police Department present on a “Civil Standby”. I did not want to be falsely accused of anything. I have no further access to the building. I have however, seen some of my mom’s former neighbors however, I will not speak to any of them. I have learned that once you talk to someone who knows or used to know you, you are giving that person control and authority over your narrative (story) should anything happen to you and you not be able to speak for yourself. As in dead. Many, many people in society are corrupted and work with the Deep State in many capacities. You never know who you are talking to nor what their motives might be. When you are a Targeted Individual, part of the plan is to isolate you and this is done rather effectively. You lose trust in almost everyone.

So, my precious mother has been murdered by these Satanic people and there isn’t much I can do about it except make sure the story is told. Should anything happen to me, I state emphatically that the best way that I can honor both God and my mother is to adhere to the teachings of Jesus Christ and to continue working in honor of them both, to educate, enlighten and save those that are lost. I in no wish to harm neither myself, nor anyone else. I’m just very sad that my mom is gone. She was a good person and did not deserve this.

Of course, there is much more to this story and I have both pictures and video of my mom on her way to eternity. She was cremated and I watched (attended) that as well, kissing her forehead before she was put into the flames. I have video of that too. She stuck with me all these years so it was the least I could do to see her to the end. That part of the cremation cost $330 extra which I gladly paid. Now, I ride around in what used to be her car with her ashes where she used to sit. I miss my mom so very much.

I’ve applied for a job with PeopleReady which used to be Labor Ready here in San Pablo, my only step left is the in person interview. I have no intentions of killing myself nor doing anything else against God’s will, I want to see my mom again and will not jeopardize that for anything. Now I know how father God felt when he had to watch his precious son Jesus being murdered. I guess we’ll have something in common now.

P.S. Just saw someone from way back in my past again, with a lot of soldier type looking dudes swarming around in cars with dealer plates on them, none of them new either. I’m being stalked and hunted but they need to get someone who used to know me to be seen talking to me, so that they can control the story after the murder or set up. AKA an informant.