Being a winner

In 2002, in Zagreb, neo-terrorists of the time managed to drive me mad enough for the British to put me away under mental health legislation for telling the truth about total surveillance — eleven years before Snowden revealed everything I sensed intuitively, and in my considerable ignorance, was true.

And family were in the mix of interests that achieved that goal.

The story continued, in a more complex way, in 2004 in Belfast. This way is not for these pages for the moment.

It hit me again in 2016 when in both Dublin and Chester, corporate in the former and an elected representative in the latter, they began to pick up on the residual neo-terrorism that had arced over my life since at least 2002 and proceeded to push it much further.

This corporate neo-terrorism hit its height over my recent Christmas 2018 stay in Dublin itself. Family had remained in the mix.

All this time, the neo-terrorism has had motive, means and opportunity both close to home and — much further afield — via significant knowhow and skillsets in the practice of virtual tracking: that is to say, of me.

But in one very small sense, although challenged by all this intellectually and emotionally, I have won something this time round. I am, actually, in this small way I allude to, a winner — of sorts, anyway.

I have not — under mental health legislation — been locked away by corporations, family, and Balkan, or indeed any other, surveillance apparatuses. This time round, it has not happened. I have fought to clear my name all these years, and this time it remains unburnished.

Yes. In a way — though a way the sociopaths of this life will never fully value — I am a winner. At my 56 and a bit years, an alpha 5.6 perhaps; but never, God forbid, an alpha male of casual violence.

Originally published at betterbizme.com.