Time and a half (Domestic chemical weapons)

allthepeace
allthepeace
Sep 2, 2013, 10:47 PM |
0

The last two days, I tried to relax going outside.  I met an interesting character who played chess pretty well.  I played a King’s Gambit and he accepted, I was two moves from Queening a pawn when I tried to avoid my Rooks from being forked and he wound up stumbling into checkmating me.    

When I returned home the first day, I saw that one of the books that had been been taken had been returned, but another CD was taken.  (The case was returned, but the CDs were taken.)

I am so tired of this game of “Cat and Mouse”.  I have been trying for years to get a lawyer who knows enough about what these spies do to earn “time and a half” pay on Labor Day Weekend.  

On the bus I found a cast aside Spanish language paper and I read the headline.  It was about how the NSA was collecting every keystroke that went though the Internet.  “Big Brother is Real”  I read this out loud in Spanish thinking that this was an amusing, ironic, way to begin an article about the unconstitutional excesses of espionage programs that cannot justify themselves. 

Later, I went into a store to by some juice to quench my thirst, and waiting in line in front of me was this woman that looked the female version of Captain Obvious.  Huge, fat, rear end; new, white, tennis shoes; and friendly haircut number 19 (grey hair).  The woman was picking up some photos.  I wouldn’t mention her at all except, suddenly, my eyes started to tear up.  I stepped back one step and that was a mistake because I seem to have stepped right into the cloud of gas, and my eyes started to tear up worse.  I tried to wipe my eyes with my shirt, but it didn’t alleviate the problem.  I saw this woman squeeze something by the side of her black stretch pants, or maybe it was just in her  Fortunately for me, a new check-stand opened up, and I was able to pay and get out of the store.  As soon as I was outside and in the fresh air my eyes immediately cleared up.  Confirming my suspicion that I was just gassed.  

Numerous times I have experienced these gas attacks.  Usually, they come in the form of memory clouding.  At the gym, twice,  I felt like someone had let off some gas.  I started coughing, choking.  I remember someone doing something about it, like getting the security, but not much else.  

 

When I got home, I realized someone had been in my place again, and wanted it known that they had been in my place.  My journal was placed on my bed with two pens on top of it, and a copy of Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style was placed on top of it, along with some copies of legal papers about untenantable dwellings.