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  Well, here we are reader and just like I promised I plan to deliver only the most advanced rapist techniques available to man. If you follow these guidelines soon children will be screaming harmony to your ears as they beg for the privilege to do only the most base and disgusting acts known in exchange for but a moment's rest from the horrors of torture you will inflict upon them and anyone who gets in your way.

  I know, I know, you're worried that a few... cops might read this and then they'll be on to you and yours. Worry not oh pervert scum. The... cops I've met (& dealt with) all agree that there are perverts out there doing perverse things but, not a one of them has the brains to truly organize. Well, that and no one would be so dishonorable. It defies the sensibilities of... cops and hurts their heads. Frankly, I suggest that, if you think they're on to you and your gang, if you see your freedom is in peril, make certain to hand the investigating... cops a copy of my rapist tips. The torrent of laughter and ridicule that will be inflicted upon any... cop dumb enough to accuse you, especially after you've handed them my tips, will so discredit them that you would be hard pressed to get arrested for your dastardly deeds if you surrendered to the... cops with your plethora of films of you torturing, raping, and killing kids. Besides, with the demonized victims you've filmed doing unspeakable acts you'll soon have the... cops begging you for the table scraps that are your victims who are no longer profitable or have gotten a little too powerful. Trust me, the... cops and F.B.I. WILL come to your house and mow your lawn, turn a blind eye to your every misdeed, and even beg you for the privilege to safeguard you and your fellow vermin when you next plan to kidnap rape and torture your demonized victim to facilitate making yet another film that will "fill in the blanks" of your overall case against them in exchange for one of your films. Face it, if you follow my rapist guidelines your rape future will be so bright that you'll have to wear shades.

  It goes without saying that, once you've gotten a few cops feeding at the trough of your victim's sloppy seconds that by default they'll walk around telling honest citizens and their fellow trusting... cops how great of a guy you are.

  There's no need to thank me for these rapist tips, I don't want anything from you. In fact, if a rapist is reading this, let me some up my opinion of you and your lifestyle with 2 words. "You suck"!

​

  LET’S REVIEW...

  1) Kidnap, rape and torture to your heart's content. It's a buyer's market out there and only 1 in 10 victims even consider calling the... cops. Only one 1 in 10 of those get charged and even less of them get convicted. Statistically, even without my guidelines you could theoretically rape one victim every month for 20 years before you'd get caught. Face it, those are the morons and opportunists who get caught, if we factor them out of our statistics you motivated rape planners can statistically rape someone every week for life and never get caught. Following my guidelines will insure that those statistics don't catch up with you when you and 20-100 of your closest friends feel like torturing an innocent child to death by raping them.

  2) Film everything!!!!!!

  3) Perversion! Perversion! Perversion! Remember. The more brazen and perversely YOU treat YOUR victim, the sicker, perverse, and twisted the acts that you make them do, the more it proves to the... cops that YOUR victim is someone that they should ignore. Trust me, the... cops fall for this every time.

  4) Remember to pay your victim... on film. It’s the cheapest and easiest way known to discredit them. Pay them in cash when they are still covered in the fluids of 100 perverts and a dozen animals no one's ever even heard of. Dose them on film. Find out their drug of choice, appear to give them some, on film. It’s cheap, easy, and effective. Particularly if you take back the money or drugs you just paid your victim once the cameras are off! Then if your victim whines to the... cops you can whip out your films and say. "Hey, we paid them with money and drugs. See? The child (Man/woman/animal/whatever) is a pervert".

  5) Lie! Lie! Lie! Tell your victims a bazillion lies! It works. It works well. A ton of... cops told me. "They wouldn't lie like that".

  6) Demonize! Keep Klansmen sheets handy, Nazi uniforms, Commie stuff, wiccan stuff (get your drugged victims to prance naked in a field), N.A.M.B.L.A. stuff (take victims to a meeting or 2, on film!), and when your victims accuse you simply quiz the easily manipulated eager to chat... cops (you'll be wearing a suit and dripping with girls who are also your victims but obey you, the... cops will be eager to please you) about what if any social groups they personally dislike and whip out the appropriate film that will have... cops begging you for the privilege of helping you to screw over your victims! The beauty of it is... you'll be filming them the whole while. Then, once you've got the goods on them, eh, the Child-Molestors have bragged to me that they have "cop raping parties". Sometimes, it’s a good cop who is their next target. You'll drug them in many creative ways and make film after film of them with kids, animals, and appliances, or worse. The rest are honest to goodness dirty cops who work for them. Frankly, many of them hate cops and the thought of raping and torturing them thrills them beyond words. They boast that their own, loyal dirty cops are usually politely offered the date rape drug once, if they refuse then the perverts of the Child-Molestors make their lives miserable and violate them in ways only the most base perverts can imagine.

  7) Make sure that your rapist team have memorized your new rape mantra. "Awww... Poor such and such? He's crazy and on drugs. In fact, as soon as I'm done talking to you officer I'm going to go to poor such and such and see if there’s anything I can do to him, uhhh... I mean for him".

  6) "Once we target a victim we never give up on them". It'd better be the story of your life. The way it was explained to me was. "Once we target a victim we never give up targeting them. Most cops and jury’s think that it'd be stupid but you and I know better. Because if we let even one of our victims get up on their feet its game over for all of us".

 

  Sooo... Kidnap, rape, torture, always filming  perversions, frame, demonize, get your stories straight, and keep raping them once you begin. That and remember to hide the bodies well. My guess is that, once they're involved, you can simply leave them for the... easily manipulated would-be vigilante... cops to deal with. They will, with a smile. Not only will they be glad to help you against your victims, but they'll beg you for the privilege, & DO IT FOR FREE! Don't say I never gave you anything.

DAVE'S ADVANCED RAPE TIPS... Or, how to rape and kill children your entire life and get the cops to help you do it... FOR FREE!!!

<--------WASH ME

  -DUH JERK'S MOST POTENT ADVICE... BECOME A SNITCH!!! RAPE AND KILL CHILDREN THEN SNITCH YOUR PALS OUT TO THE FEDS!!!

  Hi, my name's David George and on behalf of Duh Jerk and his gang, I endorse this. Wanna get away with kidnapping raping and killing children for life? Take my advice, I've been taught by the best. Don't bother thanking me, if you're a rapist you probably already know my opinion of you and your chosen lifestyle.

  Way back in fall of 1976 when Duh Jerk tried to recruit me the subject of how a pack of slime bag child-rapist baby-killers could hope to avoid prosecution?

  He explained. "I always keep dirt on someone worse than me and when the cops get too close I offer to exchange my evidence for their evidence".

  Over the years he and his gang have elaborated on the subject and I'll sum it up in the next paragraph.

   Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch out your own guys if the cops get a whiff of you. Still don't understand oh dumb rapist or maybe you're a... cop who served in the mid-Michigan area, so I'll spell it out for you.

 

 

  paid informant paid in·form·ant [ payd in fáwrmÉ™nt ] n. 1 A Child-Molestor who is seemingly paid by the police (sometimes unwittingly) to give them information (some false, some real) for the Child-Molestor's own goals. 2 Anyone who is paid by the police with cash or reduced sentences or favors to alegedly inform on Child-Molestors, their rival gangs, or their victims for the Child-Molestors own goals. example: "So we manipulated the cops like usual by conning them into giving one of our lying whores a reduced sentence and we get to keep the money they paid her on top of it"!

 

 

  The way they explain it to me is that they've got their hands shoved so far up the... cop and F.B.I.'s crime-fighting "assets" that they bark and roll over on command, panting at the prospect that they can have the gang's sloppy seconds so they can look good in front of their bosses. Mostly their own who they've chosen to punish, throw away, or cast into prison (at tax-payer's expense) "to harden them".

  Do you think prison scares them? Hah! Here's how the gang's leaders see prison.

 

 

   prison pris·on [ prízz'n ] 1 Taxpayer funded institution where the Child-Molestors conduct daily training, recruiting, sell drugs, steal, and pursue their blackmail/framing ring's goals. 2 Taxpayer funded institution where the Child-Molestors send both their victims and their own guys for the goal of punishment who are now in a position to pursue the gang's victims for the gang's sinister goals.

 

  I know what you're wondering, if you're a laymen... If you're a... cop, even from the mid-Michigan area I suspect that you already know the next definition to be entirely true.

 

   Director of prisons n. Child-Molestor prison vacation guide who directs Child-Molestor victims into the hands of the gang's already waiting convicted and incarcerated member/victims & victim/members to facilitate what will become the rest of their lives.

 

  Being that you will feed the... cops informants they'll be all too glad to pay, being that you see prison as an excellent training ground for your people, being that they brag that it's easy to get gang-members and victims relocated to wheresoever is most advantageous to your gang with ease, (especially with your films of said individuals, a little cash to get your victim's "vacation guide" in a good mood, combined with the fact that you're a no good back stabbing snitch (and proud of it enough to brag to an eleven year old kid, repeatedly), and the fact that you’ll be filming everything, you'll be an unstoppable juggernaut of child destruction and the... cops will smile and maybe even pay you when they help you get away with it! HEY! This is advice from the best. I guarantee it.

 

  A recap for my rapist readers who are a bit slow or for... cops who may have served in the mid-Michigan area. You wanna rape, torture and kill little kids for life? HUH? DO YA? WELL YOU GOTTA BE READY TO SNITCH! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch some more! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch again! Backstab and snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch! Snitch & betray! Snitch! Snitch! Beg (Duh Jerk and F.B. are not above groveling on their knees, trust me)! Snitch again and again! Snitch! Snitch out your own guys if the cops get a whiff of you. Then... get ready to snitch some more. It's the advice Duh Jerk gave me and he told me it’s his winning formula that lets him beat his own gang and the... cops.

 

  "The cops will never resist it when we tell them we'll give you a hundred perverts if you let us burn this guy". A sentence I've heard in many forms over and over throughout my life. The fact that their pet Law-of-Averages-Cops will leap, beg, roll over, and even mow their lawn in exchange for a few films of the gang's victims who will have endured many acting classes that will enable them to not even blink when they accuse THEIR victim of being their accomplice, or even their leader!

 

 

  "PRIMARILLY ACTORS"... The... cops will never see it coming... I betcha betcha!!!

  Do you want to kill people for fun and profit? Lots of people do, there's nothing special about you oh scumbag rapist and mid-Michigan dirty... cop assistant. I should've asked do you want to kidnap rape torture and kill people for fun and profit... and get away with it, and have the... cops wagging their tails and telling your victim's families how great of a guy you are? Then you're going to have to take up a new hobby. Acting. Practice make perfect.

  I know, I know, you're wondering, I can't act, & how am I going to learn it? Everyone knows that actors of all sorts are scrupulously honest and have integrity oozing out their wazoos.

  Uhhh... If you've met any actors, just about any actors that wasn't integrity spewing from their wazoos. Read any book about actors by actors in the biz. They tend to be the most decadent and base individuals who lack any morals whatsoever. And that's the good ones. Don't take my word for it, check out what actors say about themselves and their peers. Indeed, gang members brag that local theater is one of their most fertile recruiting grounds. Not to worry, seek out the local theater, they'll gladly teach you everything you need to know about being... "Primarily an actor".

  Soon, your polished speeches, your films, and your many... cop buddies (who are actively telling their peers over and over what a great guy you are), and your (few and far between) payoffs and bribes will turn you into an unstoppable baby-raping child- killing machine with the full blessings of the... cops who will tell everyone how great of a guy you are, after all, you took down 101 perverts for them. Gee, wow! Your child-raping future is so bright, you'll have to wear shades.

"Because no one would do that to someone".

  TWO MORE FOR THE ROAD... They dumped the first 4 on the road, I'd suppose they dumped the 2nd pair too... Somewhere...
  The addendum to the 4 children who died in a Public School by my hand.
  My Cousin was furious with me and his rage was growing every second at My _ _ _ _ _ _'_ Parent's house in the kitchen. "YOU KILLED THOSE 4 KIDS! YOU'RE A SERIAL-KILLER"!
  I retorted. "I ain't no mass-murderer. I wouldn't kill anyone because I'm a Christian and a pacifist".
  "YOU'RE A SERIAL-KILLER"! His accusation was strange only in that usually he called me a mass-murderer, and not a serial-killer.
  "I ain't no serial-killer". Then I had to ask him. "Why are you calling me a serial-killer? Usually you call me a mass-murderer". Or something like it.

  "Why do you think I ordered your _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor) to order you to watch that show on T.V. last night? I'm tired of you telling me that you're not a mass-murderer so I ordered your _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor) to make you watch that show on serial-killers the other night so you'd know what a serial-killer was".

  "I ain't no serial-killer. Every time you open your mouth it's a bunch of lies. That's all you do is lie". I said it calmly and in an always respectful tone in my usual matter of fact style I used when insulting him.
  He was furious with me and launched into a tirade. "OH YEAH?! YOU ARE TOO A SERIAL-KILLER! YOU JUST KILLED THOSE OTHER 2 KIDS THE OTHER NIGHT TOO! Don't you remember? Those kids in the gymnasium of a public school".

  "I didn't kill no kids in no gymnasium. You're lying".

  "YES YOU DID! DON'T YOU REMEMBER? I ORDERED MY GUYS TO TORTURE YOU IN A PUBLIC SCHOOL GYMNASIUM TO MAKE YOUR STORY UNBELIEVABLE! DON'T YOU REMEMBER? THEY TORTURED YOU FOR WEEKS IN A SCHOOL GYM LIT ONLY BY ONE LIGHT! YOU WENT CRAZY AND KILLED 2 KIDS JUST LIKE YOU DID THOSE OTHER TIMES"!

  He paused for a moment while I searched my memory. That's when I began to recall the events of "the other night".

I asked him. "I thought it was just a dream. Why do I recall it so poorly"?

  "Because I always torture my victims while they're on drugs so that the cops'll never believe them. You did kill those 2 kids when they'd tortured you for a long time. Why'd you kill them? Why didn't you just run like you did all those other times you ran away when we tortured you and then we'd find you sleeping a couple of blocks away and bring you right back"?

  I searched my memory for an answer...
  Set your wayback machines for a few days back and strap in your seat belts reader because it's going to be a bumpy ride...
  I came too in a very large room dimly lit by a single light from above surrounded by about a dozen young men and teens. The room was void of furniture except for a single table and a few strategically placed fire extinguishers. The men and teens began beating me and slapping me, tossing me to and fro between them for a long, long time. They seemed to be really really enjoying themselves. I wasn't. Every now and again individuals stopped pounding me and walked over to a nearby table where I could see assorted plates with various pills, powders, and herbs all arrayed thereupon. After a time I noticed a paring knife on the table. It became my mission in life to get it.
  There were adjustable stocks there and they forced my head and arms into the contraption and took turns sodomizing and beating me. Eventually they let me out and the paring knife became a prop of the torture. "YOU SEE THIS KNIFE? IT'S JUST LIKE THE KNIFE YOU USED TO MURDER THOSE 4 KIDS THE OTHER DAY! YOU'RE A MASS-MURDERER"!
  I usually replied. "I ain't no mass-murderer".

  Now and again uniformed Bay City... Cops joined in, between moments where they were guarding the main entrance and they too joined in on the torture funfest and even deflected some would-be nice-guys when I once nearly escaped and they assured the do-gooders that I was the real culprit and my pleas of torture were merely an attempt by a brat to avoid a just punishment they were going to get around to beginning upon me, once they dragged me back into the building and completed their report.
  Every now and then, between fleeting moments of rest where they either were rejoicing at my agony or preparing props for the next round of torture I asked my smiling torturers. "Why are you doing this to me"?
  They tended to smile when they replied. "Because you're a mass-murderer".
  Pain, beating, deprivation. It soon became apparent to them that my repeated lunges for the drug table weren't to get drugs as they first accused me. I was trying to get the knife! They alternated taunting me with it and putting it back on the table and simply applying pain.
  Eventually, after a bazillion failed attempts, I broke free from the pack and rushed the table.
  The guy who I'll call Ambulance Driver said. "He's got the knife! Quick! Cover the exits! Don't let him escape"! The group split in half and guys went every which way to cover the exits.

  In a moment of time I assessed the situation before me. I was seriously outnumbered and surrounded by people who averaged double my body weight or more. I'd been beaten, tortured, and deprived, some of my muscles just weren't operating at 100% anymore. I didn't think I could escape by outrunning these men and boys. That left 2 options. Endure the torture and count on my torturer's sense of kindness and fair-play to preserve me... or fight it out & hope for the best.
  Me? Escape was not the plan. Oh, it WAS the ultimate goal, but escape was the last thing on my mind at the moment, I lunged into the remains of the still smiling crowd of torturing rapists with my new-found paring knife in hand and started slashing!

  The battle was on! I slashed wildly and ducked bobbed and weaved between my stoner captors, stabbing and slashing at everyone while thinking. "I've got to keep moving! I can't let them surround me! I've got to keep moving”! What more is there to say other than a whole lot of cutting took place?

  The men and teens grew more urgent, their attacks became all the more chaotic. I recall slashing a teen and when he dropped I saw a gap in the battle sufficient that I could jump on top of him and stab his throat repeatedly while horrified onlookers simply stood there & stared!

  "GET HIM! WE'VE GOT TO GET HIM OFF OF THAT KID"! One of them yelled... too late...

  SLASH! STAB! DUCK! BOB! Guys were quitting all over the place and stood watching with their hands up whenever I came near. More guys came alone and in twos. So I cut them too. A uniformed Bay City... Cop joined in too! More guys came!

  I started to slow down, my attackers pressed on the fight... my tortured body just couldn't go on much longer and I was eventually tackled and the swarm pounced on me and immediately injected me with who knows what?

  Ambulance Guy, a rather tall and big gutted man in his late 20s with black hair took charge and said. "Okay quick everybody. grab up the wounded and bandage up everybody's wounds". Then he pointed to a guy". "The phone on the wall is an outside line in case of emergency. Call ________ and ask them what we should be doing".

  They dragged the two teens into the center of the room under the light and Ambulance guy pronounced them dead (yeah, a diagnosis from a pack of paid professional liars).

  A few of the men and teens agreed among themselves that I deserved to die for what'd just happened... now! The gang split into 2 groups and the larger group led by Ambulance Guy protected me from them with a little fighting and much shoving back and forth. Eh, I didn't thank them & I never will.

  The world was beginning to ripple and fade away & I recall that the gang took a quick injury count and one guy said. "I can't believe that one kid fought against all of us and killed two kids and stabbed everyone here".

  The rather large and in charge Ambulance Guy said. "He didn't stab me".

  They were treating the wounds of the many when the first guy replied. "Well, you're the only one here he didn't stab".

  The last thing I recall was Ambulance Guy saying. "OKAY EVERYONE PACK IT UP! THE BOSSES WANT EVERYONE TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL AND GET PATCHED UP AND THEN RETURN HERE AND CLEAN EVERYTHING UP"!

  Wow! Were some of those guys mad! "WHAT? THEY AIN'T GOING TO LET US KILL HIM FOR EVERYTHING HE'S DONE HERE TODAY"?

  "The bosses say they're going to take care of this later".

  ...

  Back in the present...

  I told My Cousin. "The reason I didn't run and fought instead was because those guys tortured me so much that some of my muscles were starting to shut down. So I figured I should try to fight'em because I didn't think I could outrun that many people".

  "You were lucky. They were going to torture you a lot more than that and at the end break your arm. Picture the kids at your school twisting your broken arm and making you dance in our films".

  I told him. "School's not for a couple months and I know that a broken arm can heal in a month. The kids at school would never get a chance to twist my broken arm anyway".

  "Not if we keep breaking your arm every few weeks it wouldn't. That's how we punish the Kids Anyone Can Hit. We break their arm and then we keep attacking them and rebreaking it. We'd probably just have your _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor) just order you to go someplace, like to the store or something and then have you jumped by some of our guys and they'd re-break it. Then once you'd go back to school the kids'd rebreak it and keep it broken so they could twist it so they could force you to dance naked in some of our child porn films. Once you did that then we could keep re-breaking it until an infection set in and then the doctors would have to amputate it".

  "I'd tell the cops". Yup reader, I was THAT stupid. Sheesh, grumble grumble "call the cops". HMPH! I shoulda threatened him with Santa AND the Easter Bunny instead. All three agencies have the same odds of helping protect someone from the Child-Molestors anyway and the bonus is that at least the latter two won't tease me when I beg for help from them. "Call the cops"... a weirdism if there ever was one...

  Whatever...

  He just laid there... and we all watched him die... slowly...

 

  Let me shout out a dedication to my peeps in law-enforcement in Schofield Wisconsin. This one's... dedicated to you! No need to thank me or to send me money, just knowing you're out there is reward enough for me. GULP!

 

  Sooo... it was circa 1972... maybe 1973. I woke up, drugged in a public school gymnasium. "My Cousin", the lyingest liar I'd ever met told me it was a Bay City School Gym. There were about 7-10 men, all rather large and brutish & about 2 dozen or more children. Most my age or older with a few teens who towered over the rest of the children.

  I was thrilled to see the Uniformed Michigan State Police Officer standing with his arms folded at the room's only working exit and aproached him for help after My Cousin told me he planned to make all us kids fight for the men's amusement. WHen I tried to beg him for help he told me he knew my calamity... and he was there to make sure I couldn't escape. And as an insurance policy if we got raided by the cops. He could point out I was on drugs and arrest me and easilly dissmiss any accusations I might  make.

  My Cousin told me the rules were simple. Fight when you are told.

  I watched the children duke it out one after another. After only a few matches it wasa my turn to fight. I refused to fight.

  So My Cousin ordered the child to attack me.

  Me? I blocked 3-5 times a week for 8 hours a day 9 months of the year. It is no exageration when I say... I blocked. WOW! Was My Cousin mad!

  So My Cousin ordered everyone to form a tight circle, shoulder to shoulder, and to keep hitting me until I started to fight. It didn't take long. Long story short? To the cheers of the men and boys, I cleaned his clock. Not bad. But bad enough.

  Fight, fight fight. When I refused... they formed a circle. Yeah, I fought.

  At one point... it's a little fuzzy at the time of this writing, My Cousin and I exchanged a few words. It seemed like he tried to buddy up to me, and in so many words I called him a liar who's motives I didn't trust one bit. It's all fuzzy.

  The part that isn't fuzzy is that he told me I'd have to fight the biggest teen in the room. The former champion who was fresh because he hadn't been in any fights.

  The adults paired off to begin betting. The Former Champion told me he'd been paid to break one of my arms. That he knew that beating me was a prerequisite to having sex with my Mother (honor honor honor) and what a pleasure it'd be to come back to me time & again, making love to my Mother & rebreaking my arm for the gang. It'd get infected and I'd soon be an amputee. When I asked him about mercy, pity, anything, he said he'd done this before for the gang, and the thought of doing it again AND sleeping with my Mother as a reward was too good to pass up.

  Me? I pondered the situation before me. This was bad, very bad. Up and until now I'd been "fighting fair" as defined by my Mother and her enforcer/brother. I decided to fight "unfair" from here on and no type of attack would be off the table.

  The match seemed to take a long time to begin, the men all chatted and laughed much between them.

  Then, we were squared off against each other, and the fight began.

  The former champ attacked me silently, with no facial expression other than an open mouth. His fighting style consisted of putting his fists to his shoulders, and punching down on me without moving his body.

  Me? I went for his throat! POW! POW! POW! Dodge! POW! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT !THROAT! Block! THROAT! THROAT ! THROAT ! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! Dodge! THROAT! THROAT!

  The crowd cheered on.

  The teen just kept throwing his punches down on me.

  THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! At one point his head and torso did a circle and he flopped over backward, emotionlessly. The same expression on his face from start to finish.

  So I jumped on him and he tried to block.

 THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! 

  He wasn't moving any more.

 THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! 

  Someone in the crowd shouted something like "We should stop this! He's going to kill him"!

 THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT!

  My Cousin ordered me pulled off the teen and the savage children tackled me and beat me sorely while the adults checked the teen who's throat was now swelled to twice it's former size. He ordered me to be let go and shouted at me while pointing at the teen who'd had his entire life before him only minutes ago. "YOU KILLED HIM"!

  I told him I didn't buy it and he ordered me to check the body. I didn't buy it, but as time would go by and I rechecked it... he seemed dead to me. White as a ghost. In time his friends would violently protect his body from my continuous checking of it.

  The men wanted to disband the gathering and My Cousin forbade it pointing to the... cop. "NOBODY'S GOING ANYWHERE". This was going to continue. The body was dragged to the side and his friends promised me death. Men grudgingly began to bet.

  My Cousin announced I'd be beat down and busted up as punishment for this. 2 of the toughest fighters would be chosen and I'd be beaten down by them as revenge. The bets would now be "how long I could last", not "if I could win".

  The towering teen who'd promised to break my arm over & over now threatened me all the more with his accomplace who was about my age height & size.

  To be continued. See: "3's as good as 2 for the Michigan State Police".

  Preview? Sure... why not?

  My Cousin bragged. "That kid you killed was the only one there who didn't threaten you". He'd been the champ... and was drugged because all the fights were rigged and he'd hoped to get rid of him... but not kill himm... 

 

  PERFECTING THE TECHNIQUE... TRY, TRY AGAIN...

 

  Sooo... there I was, fresh out of the Navy, the gang had tortured me fiercely...

  What did I do about it? I fough! Every lucid moment. Yeah, I AM that stupid. The gang tell me they love it!

  I bit off fingers, gouged eyes, broke fingers, arms, punched throats, you name it.

  Duh Jerk and his Lt. Fagboy liked to say. "I don't care who gets hurt". Their insureance policy. "Most cops think that if I was a gang leader I'd care about my guys but I don't. I don't care who gets hurt.". Thus, they can never get caught because in... cop minds... "no one would be so dishonorable".

  Eh... I'll just get to the point...

  This time... it was children. Kids who Duh Jerk insisted were 11. They played the same game with me as the adults had before them. Each would deliver a slap to the face, or less likely a body blow, then push me to the next, and repeat in a crowd sending me reeling between them in a drugged stupor.

  Every once in a while... I had a lucid moment. Before... I'd spared children as best I could... but... while sitting at home between kidnappings I decided to do so no more. I pounced on little girls and boys venting the full fury of eveything I had on their "strength reducing drug(s)". Little boys and girls were beginning to have broken arms, hurt backs, shattered faces. It wasn't pretty.

  They made a point of bringing the bandaged children to me and they spted threats. Many said they'd gladly follow me for life and torture me for the gang as revenge... some said they'd kill me.

  I figured I was going to die. So I decided to turn the room full of torturers into a room full of witnesses.

  So I grabbed a little kid, kids, boys & girls, and spun their heads around with all my might! A bit of trivia... if you grab an adult, or a lazy kid and twist thier head, you'll snap their kneck. But most kids, particularly on lenolieum, will just spin in place.

  K-K-K-K-K-KRACK! A little girl died! Yeah... the gang tortured me for it.

  A moth or so later... same place.... Spin! Spin! Spin! Children were harmlessly turning in circles when I tried this.

  So I perfected the technique. I slameed the kid against the drug table and pinned their body to it... then snapped the neclk... the gang promised revenge! To be continued... one day... Maybe... as if anyone cares... See: "Jerk managed to worm his way financially into a Wisconsin Mall".

  Whatever...

 

  Pinky to his lip... ONE HUNDRED... BILLION DOLLARS... AND OTHER ASSORTED NONSENSE...

  Sooo it was Circa 2005ish... I woke up, obviously in a Bay City Public School building (architecture was the same in any event) surrounded by Jocks, assorted teenaged girls and boys, a few children, a forklift, a pallet with stacks of cash... and the smiling Duh Jerk.

  The memory is allready starting to break-up, there are gaps that grow larger as time passes in this tale of woe...

  "I'm tired of you allways accusing me of rape". Duh Jerk said. He had a new demand as he pointed to the camera in the center of the room. "You have to make a film telling everyone that I'm not raping you or I'll kill you right now. But if you make the film I'll give you a million dollars". He pointed to the pallet stacked with $20 bills.

  I pondered the professional liar's offer. Of course he was lying. I could tell him to f _ _ _-off like I so often have... but pondered just how many times I could get away with telling my lying thieving recreational serial-killing rapist stalker to f _ _ _-off before... well, you know.

  So I looked at the stack... he asuured me it was all $20 bills. I pondered the cash so long I feel comfortable using the word "apraised". It was a mini-pallet... 2/3rds the size of a standard cargo pallet. The bills were stacked vertically to nearly shin-high counting the pallet. The bills were not evenly stacked, some stacks, maybe most were half that height, and none of the stacks touched one another (wich made me wonder... moving the stack with the forklift... if that's how they did it, would've been awkward at best without tipping the bills over) and were spaced apart equalk to or greater than the width of the bills as a rule.

  I wasn't and still am not sure how big a stack of $20 bills on a pallet would be, but I was pretty sure it was bigger than that measlilly stack. If it was even a stack of cash. I said. "So this is my money huh"?

  "If you make the film". Said the smiling mad-man.

  "So I have to make the film huh"?

  "Yes. Or i'm going to have these jocks kill you right now".

  "Huh? So do it or die? So I'm supposed to trust you"?

  "I give you my word. If you make the film you live, otherwise I'm going to kill you right now". He explained that his dirty... cops and dirty lawyer told him he needed a better film to protect himself & the gang (wich he'd been calling lately a "secret society") when it all went to court.

  "Good. Give me a lighter".

  This begged the question as to why I wanted a lighter. I told them to burbn the cash, if it was indeed mine.

  A jock, clothed in black and towering over all of us asked. "You would burn a million dollars"? In disbelief.

  Yeah... I told him yes I would. "I don't want nothing from you guys". True to this day (despite the gang's bragging that, if any case against me gets too hot, they'll just buy me with their threats, cash, and whores).

  Duh Jerk was livid. "Jocks are meant to be seen & not heard. You will be punished for this".

  The Jock protested. "I just couldn't believe that he'd burn the cash. No one burns the cash". I noted his choice of words.

  "Well I would".

  "Would you like 2 punishments? Wait until you see what I'm going to do to him". He pointed to me. "I'm going to do worse to you as a punishment for talking. Do yopu want to go for 2 punishments"?

  "No".

  I told the Jerk I wasn't sure how big a million dollars, but I figured it'd be bigger than this.

  Yeah... he coached me thru a I ain't being raped video. I barely recall it.

  Then he told me it was a standard practice to lie... I wasn't getting the cash despite giving his word.

  Another Child-Molestor told me I was right, the money had been a "Michigan roll" (Mid-Michigan... cops will probably have to look up the word). $20s on the top & magazine paper below.

  I teased them during... and after. I figured it wasn't really a million dollars... no gang on earth keeps that kind of cash around to impress the like of a less than nobody like me. I also teased them to at least try harder... make the fake pile a little more realisaticly sized at the least. The gang's honor was on the line here, at least they could try harder, have a more realisticly sized pile of lies. Sheesh!

  Eh, I figured as much... I ain't complaining about my million dollars... ALL I'll say is this. "HEY JERK! WHERE'S MY PIZZA"? But I digress... I'm sure he and his gang were busy men, and there's a bunch of children dying to meet them.

  Whatever...

 

  This is the page... the Molestors brag the truth will bring them victory. The Bibles says the truth shall set you free.  What can any of the gang's vicitms do to overcome the awesome power of a bazillion lies told by the gang? Is there anything one of their victims can say or do to extricate themselves from the gang's clutches? Anything? The truth? The one thing the gang brag will assure them an easy victory? Here goes the truth... the painfull, hard, cold, glaringly bright truth... yeah... the thing I'm hoping will set me free from a life of tyranny at the hands of my opprerssors. Yeah... the truth. Next with the tale I call. "How old are you"???

 

  How old are you??? My Cousin asked me...

  Sooo... I was walking past "My Cousin" minding my own beeswax when he stopped me, beercan in hand, and asked me a question. "How old are you"?

  So I told him. At the time of this writing I cant recall the number I gave him but it was probably 6, 7, or 8 years old.

  He answered back. "You're a year older than that. When you were born we tried to sell you into sex slavery to the orientals but they asked what was your birthdate and they freaked when we told them and they wouldn't have anything to do with you.  So they blackballed you. And because they blackballed you no one else would touch you so there was nothing else we could do with you". "You were small and malnourished from when we starved you so all we did was tear up your old birth certificate and issue you a new one. We own the guys who signed it and the people who keep the records in City Hall and at the Hospital so it was easy to do because the local newspapers don't print the birth announcements of unwed mothers. Then we changed your birthday in case the orientals checked it again and everything was okay". "Do you remeber when you were about 2 or 3 years old when your parents all of a sudden changed how old you were and told you you were a year younger than they'd told you"?

  Yeah... I called him a liar. Eh, force of habit I'd suppose. But I did recall the age change-up, It'd been an occasion to bring me much pain.

  He submitted as proof that the gang had tried to starve me to death as a toddler and the only thing that saved me was an accidental police encounter at the local Euclid Street Texan Resturaunt. Killing me by starvation then was too dagerous because there had been too many witnesses in the resturaunt. So they tried to kill me in the Bunga Bunga Hospital, and the teens paid to kill me had screwed it up.

  He submitted as proof that he knew he'd ordered my Mother's Mother to eat at the Texan as a regular from the murder attempt on so as to prove nothing happened there and as of late she'd been complaining that the daily expense, trouble of going there, and the (gang's) mandatory generous tip were financially a burden and she wanted to quit going there.

  When I called him a liar some more he added more proof. "Remember when you were a baby and you could talk but no one could understand you".

  Me? I just listened on... I asked him to shut up now and again... respectfully. He had nothing to say that I wanted to hear and I told him as much.

  "Here we were with a blackballed kid and you started talking at a couple of months old. So I ordered your family to act like you were speaking gibberish"... to confound me. When I asked him why he would do that he said. "Because you were balckballed and I didn't want any balckballed kid outshining one of our kids and getting all the resources that belong to one of our kids if you weren't around".

  I recall the times hed spoken of... I'd tried my best to talk, and my family had teased me on and on that it was all gibberish. As time went on, when I met, on a few occasions, other people, "as yet unbriefed" by my family, they understood me. Only to later giggle at my gigerspeak once my family had a chance to speak with them. I still recall the day it came to an end... My Mother was furious with me, about what I cant recall and as I stood in my cell, I mean crib she screamed at me while slapping my face over and over. "I know you can understand me"!

  "I told her. "But you told me all I speak is gibberish and you cant understand me".

  Caught... she screamed a few threats and the slaps came to an end and she left in a rage!

  I heard her stomp off and call someone on the phone. In seconds her voice changed from pure undilluted rage to a defencive tone. I could hear her talk, some. "I'm telling you he knows that we can understand him".

  The alledged "gibberspeak" ended. Everyone could unerstand me perfectly. It came with it's own set of horrors. Now that people were free to act as though they understanded me they violently taught me every rule, ethic, and bit of information. Family, visitors, everywhere we went my life and the learning experience that life is was a lesson in pure pain and horror without escape.

  My Cousin cornered me and bragged it was he who my Mother chatted with on the phone. It was by his decree that everyone in my life was allowed to converse with me, and just to be mean he decided to order everyone in my life to make my every learning experience a painfull one laced with horror.

  "You know how your Mother and your Uncle drag you to your death about an hour a day a couple of times a day"? "I order them to do that". He bragged he called them and ordered them to fake my execution. Often it was death by slow baking, drowning, dismemberment, being locked up and left to die... slowly, and threats of beatdowns that'd never stop until I was dead. He asked me if I noticed the half-hour to hour long death sessions allways ended in a slapdown (either for my stupidity at believing they'd kill me thusly, or for calling them liars for not killing me, either way, they ended with 5 to 100+ slaps to the face, usually). He said it was meant to trivialize the value of life in my eyes. Well, that and to be cruel.

  Yeah...

 

  100 LIFE SCENTENCES, A DOZEN DEATH PENALTIES... Not what you want to hear at age 15...

  1978-8o was a rough time 4 me. With my family they drugged me, took me all over the USA & made a delirious me kill... lots of people!

  "But Ma! They keep drugging me & making me kill people"!

   SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

    "But Daddy! They keep drugging me & making me kill people"!

    "I don't care".

    "But Officer! They keep drugging me & making me kill people"!

   "You go to school or I'll take my nightstick out &...

  "But Ma! They keep drugging me & making me kill people"!

  CHILD MURDER... SAGINAW MICHIGAN... COP STYLE!!! Yeah... they would. AND IT WAS FASHIONABLE!!!

  Alt title: Escalating the situation: Saginaw... cop style...

​

   Soooo... I was about 9 years old, I'd been through a lot, not that there's a single honest Mid-Michigan... cop who cares. It was summer, a time of woe, violence, & lots of fighting. I had goals back then. I figured I'd be an engineer, maybe go astronaut? Every kid's gotta dream right? I also had another goal and it seemed attainable. I actually thought I could do it. Maybe. What was it? I'm glad you asked Reader. My goal was that I'd live long enough that my age in years would be greater than the number of people I'd killed. That was me in the 70's. I'm sure lots of kids had a similar goal.

  My Mother (Honor honor honor) was fond of going to her Parent's place. She'd hang out, drink, & played a variety of games with the people at the grande parties there. There was one rule. From morning to mid-afternoon, no going in the house, ot at least no going to the barthroom in the house. You had to go to my Great Aunt's place next door. Well, not my 3 Cousins or I. Nor any of their friends we called "designated hitters". They beat on me 8 hours a day with no breaks. Well, they got breaks, not I.

  8 hours...

  Eight hours...

  3-5 times a week...

  8 hours...

  Eight...

  Hours...

  Tick tick tick tick tick...

  8...

  An amount equal to 7+1

  It was bragged they were paid to do it. My 3 Cousins made $4 an hour, designated hitters made $8 an hour, and adult designated hitters made $10 an hour. Big money in the 70's when minimum wage was what? $1.25ish?

  Eventually, they'd finish. Sometimes they used an assortment of blunt weapons, bats, clubs, ect. Sometimes. The number of torturers was 3-7 & usually numbered 5.

  Every once in a while my Mother would "innocently" walk up. Announce I was obviously being beat for something I'd done. Set up a gauntlet. Everyone would slap my face to their heart's content. She'd leave & The Ordeal in the Back Hall would resume. Yawn...

  We'd finish eventually. Then My Mother or some other adult would assign us all chores around the yard. Weeding, raking, moving boxes, you name it. Whatever the chore, if it involved a sharp object, scissors, knives, shovels, ect one of my cousins or their friends would try to stab me with it, or bludgeon me with it. Being I did nothing but block attacks 3-5 times a week, 8 hours a day I say without exaggeration... I blocked it.

  Moving on. I told you that so i could move on to the next thing...

  My Mother's Brother called my house & asked if he could take me to Saginaw's Fashion Square Mall. We'd do some shopping.

  WOW! Was I elated when My Mother said yes. This was unprecedented. Many Mid-Michigan... cops probably need to look up the word unprecedented.

  Soooo... we went there. He went to buy epoxy & other odds & ends. We went in & he asked me to do something that separated us, at the time of this writing I don't recall what that was save HE was at the bottom of the escalator, & I was at the top, traveling down.

  A large, twice my body weight african American teenager ran up behind me & tried to flying kick me. He succeeded but because I began to dodge it was merely a glancing blow! he nearly fell off the top of the escalator himself! Seeing that he was about to fall of the top of the escalator I froze for a moment then moved to help him. As I moved the few steps to him he caught his balance & I stopped short of him.

  Oddly, it was his pal who accused me of moving to kill his friend, why else would I have stepped up to my attempted murderer?

  I told him I was a Christian, that I saw an enemy in need, & my religion is all about helping others in distress. Even the guy who just tried to kill me

  Calmly the pair of giant teens threatened me.

  Calmly I told them my opinion on the subject.

  2... yes TWO Uniformed Saginaw Police stepped out from behind a display. Asked me what was going on & when I said there was no problem they threatened me! OVER & OVER! A pair of uniformed ambulance drivers also stepped out, expressed disappointment on not being needed, and promptly left. The... cops threatened me with arrest & eventually shut up when I talked about security cameras backing my story up.

  My Mother's Brother showed up. We all left. Elapsed time? 2-3 minutes.

  My Mother was furious that I'd been attacked when her Bro told her about the attempted murder & demanded to know what I'd done to so obviously deserve it?

  My Cousin chimed in on the subject later bragging he'd set it up. He said he set it up from beginning to end & from the phone call to My Mother's scripted reaction (a professional liar said all that).  It seems that way too many people knew about the going's on in the Back Hall and by now a whole bunch of the party goers had seen many an attempted murder on my person. Even commenting on when a given attack would come, not if though said information was not shared with them. "They started betting on when you would get attacked". "At 1st they used to bet on if this was the time you died but after a while they quit betting on it because you never died". He was particularly worried that they'd started a pool on when the attacks would come (15 minute intervals for the bet slot) & a sizeable amount of cash had stacked up from my day of death pool, as yet unclaimed as to the day I'd die & he was furious & had seized it & put an end to the betting. There were too many bodies as of late, too many witnesses, too many people who knew of high crimes so he figured he'd kill me in Saginaw with a few of his Dirty... cops there. Now he had his staff there and witnesses & the... cops to contend with as well & blamed it & all his troubles on me.

  I told him even if I fell from that height I was unlikely to have died. Few people die from falls that height.

  He expressed disappointment on my living... & being free too. According to him had I received even the slightest boo boo, or had it gone to plan & I fell off the escalator & died, or more likely been injured, his dirty ambulance crew would've just killed me en-route to the Hospital & his dirty Saginaw... cops would've made sure his child-killer teens would've gotten away with it. Or worst case gotten a slap on the wrist because they were only kids with a great future ahead of them, with the full support of all the was the area's education system telling Judges what great kids they were.

  I asked him who would be so stupid as to publicly kill a child?

  He told me it was the best way. Way too many people knew about us. Way too many bodies were stacking up as of late & way too many people knew about them. So he had to kill me publicly in a way no one would question (an ongoing theme in my life).

  Later, a few days later My Cousin came to me in a rage! He'd just learned of bet fixing by one of my 3 Cousins. It seems they'd arranged it that they fixed the time of my attempted murders so as to get kickbacks from the betting pool. He was about to get to the bottom of it and demanded I tell him which of the 3 it was. NOW!

  I told him I had no idea?

  He called me a liar. Noting we hung out as of late & talk even (unlike in the past where a single non insulting word or even being seen playing near me meant instant punishment for them).

  I told him in so many word we didn't talk shop. That yes, I'd been around them, but only by force.

  "Then why are you nice to them"? He demanded.

  "Because I'll be beat if I don't be nice to them".

  When he kept calling me a liar I pointed out that there was only one liar in the conversation, & they didn't call me The Good Kid for no reason. We'd been through this before & he knew I was to be trusted.

  At one point I asked him who'd be so stupid as to try & kill a child in public? And on film? It sounded pretty stupid to me.

  Not stupid at all he assured me. Publicly killing someone by the hand of a child, particularly when killing someone of a different race has many advantages. He pointed out J.C. Penny had just opened, the number of witnesses was practically zero (he assured me all the nearby people were pre-briefed molesters who'd trained for the occasion specifically). The 2 attempted child-murderers could play the race card if exposed, and the Saginaw Police... cops would seize the film from the security staff who were poised to seize it if other... cops became involved. That if I somehow screwed up, acted poorly, or did something they could take advantage of they'd play the edited film in court, claiming to have lost the unedited version. He could simply kill me & had multiple tiers of defence. Even My Mother & Uncle who'd have sworn to anyone & everyone I was not the victim no matter what had happened.

  I told him My Mother wasn't there.

  He corrected me and told me she was, I just didn't know it. He claimed she'd been told I was going to die. "Why do you think she acted so surprised to see you later huh"?

  He said the... cops, his owned dirty Saginaw... cops had been told to press the attack & say I started it & was the sole aggressor. Trying to get me to crack, make a false confession, bully me into confessing, or more likely pouncing on any misspoken word I may have said in the heat of the incident. Their orders were clear. Atack! Attack! Attack! Up & until IF... if I mentioned the cameras. Failing to note them would've meant an arrest of myself where they'd have stalled until it was reasonable for the security footage to have disappeared. Then it would've been a huge quagmire of my word against the 2 Honor students (gangbangers who could barely read with faked school records according to him) & the... cops who could make up any story they pleased. He asked me to note that as soon as I mentioned the security footage surely available, the 2... cops ended the insult/accusation/frame-up fest.

  The end of my 3 Cousins came. 2 told me My Cousin ordered the other beat down. I only ever saw them 1 more time, at my aunt's wedding by the Laffayette Bridge in Bay City Michigan. There they stood next to Fagboy & My Bro & threatened me. Symbolic huh? I guess you could say they acted just like a Saginaw... cop.

  My advice?

  Go to Saginaw Michigan for all YOUR child-killing needs Reader. The baby killers you can trust! Then again... they did mess it up right? So I guess they're the child-killing screw-up who'll "probably" get your next contract child-killing right! Probably? Probably...

  If you are a wannabee child-killer, a gifted amature, or a carear child-killer like some Saginaw... cops this is advice on child-killing for you. Only the best advice and taught to me by the best & brought to you by me for the low low price of... free! No need to thank me you baby-killing jerks, & please don't send me any money, just knowing that the Saginaw Police are out there & tasked with taking down the criminals I've described on my website is reward enough for me. GULP!

  Whatever...

​

  Author note: I should probably rewrite the above tale. There's a lot of grammar errors. Eh, frankly I don't feel like it.

​

​

  NO SNAPPY SAYING... JUST WHAT HAPPENED... The entire situation was just awful...

   This happened to me as a kid too, but I'm writing what happened to me as an adult because I recall this tale marginally better (see that? 2 big words, I've already mystified ALL mid-Michigan Law-Enforcement). I became lucid between rapes in a Bay County Public School typed building (many many Molestors bragged to me they have a small faked interior someplace built using stolen construction supplies from an actual Bay City Public School construction, thus the look is genuine) in a hallway I didn't recognize (I spent a lot of time in those buildings). The gang had been taking me from place to place, with & without Jerk & the 4 Stars & filming us together as though we were friends "Smile for the camera" (as a Mid-Michigan... cop you are completely dazed or confused at this point in my experience, seek medical attention please).

  Today... a guy about my age, a little shorter, and wielding a .45acp was pointing it at me and ordered me to move or he'd shoot me. In a moment of time I pondered the situation before me, his weapon, what I knew of it, and what I could do to escape. So I touched my finger to the barrel of the gun & told to go ahead & shoot. I also told him that I knew the gun wouldn't fire with my finger on the barrel because it would engage one of many safeties built into the gun. Then I waited.

  He told me he wasn't messing around. He knew I was dangerous and I'd best move or he'd kill me.

  I watched his eyes... & stepped forward slightly.

  He pulled the trigger. The pistol did not fire. I pushed the barrel up & snatched the gun from him. I said something I don't recall at the time of this writing.

  He put his finger on the barrel.

  I said. "You're learning", Then waited for the obligatory gun grab I suspected was about to happen. He did not disappoint me & in seconds he grabbed the gun & began to wrench it from my grasp.

  Me? I stepped into him and shoved the pistol to arm's length with my left hand making it only (big word again? Why not?) marginally harder to take from me. Then I slapped him across the face with my other hand. He looked at me & I split my fingers & poked out both his eyes!

  He dropped to his knees & I recovered the gun.

  Dirty Cop himself walked in dressed in a Bay City Michigan Police Uniform with his gun drawn & told me I was under arrest!

  I submitted to his arrest & in seconds Jerk & the 4 Stars came in with a few jocks, little boys & girls, and a camera crew & a few of them tended to the wounded man.

  Jerk lamented on my survival. Now that I'd lived & a lot of people knew about the blinded co-conspirator he was calling my attempted murder off. The theory was that I get the gun from my rapist/kidnapper then Dirty Cop walks in & shoots me dead for resisting arrest in a public school I had no business to be in (other than mischief). Case closed & he, the 4 Stars, and the Children of "The Gym" could forever put The Gym behind them.

  It takes a minute or 2 for a recently blinded man to recover from losing both their eyes, I would know. He stood up and shouted at me. "You didn't have to poke out my eyes! I was just playing with you". The way he saw it was since he was engaged in a harmless PRACTICAL joke on me that I was the one in the wrong. When I whined about the rapes he said the Molestor Mantra. "We were only bringing you pleasure". I should've been grateful for all the good sex they gave me.

  I told him I wasn't grateful for the sex, it was rape & he'd now paid the price for the rest of his life for that crime.

  That did not cheer him up.

  Then I told him his life was ruined. The gang does not respect weakness. Now that he'd been blinded he was weak & would serve the gang's base perverts for the rest of his life in one of their Brothels.

  Duh Jerk assured him that wasn't the case. That they'd take care of him & he'd be okay.

  It seemed to placate the blinded man.

  They drugged me anew & eventually I got free.

  Duh Jerk sent another "Snitch". He said that the Blinded Guy hadn't complained much about the Brothel thing so Jerk decided to put him in the Brothel. His family had been informed & knew I was responsible for the loss & enslavement of their son & would be a valuable asset in my coming destruction one day when the gang tired of playing with me & decided to destroy me in court. Jerk just wanted me to know.

  True? It may be true only that that Snitch told me the Blinded guy went on to be a Brothel Slave. Who can tell with a pack of professional liars?

  The truth? Loyalty don't mean much to the Child-Molestors. Not much at all. They preach pleasure but they bring horror. The gang has a saying. You don't get rich working for them. You obey!

  

  Soooo... Saginaw... cops. I have a question for you & would like you to answer it between rapist apologist statements & child-killings (that I'm "certain" you had (cough cough) "nothing" to do with AND dealing with a gang of child-molesting frame artists? Where is the model tall Miss Jones?

  Remember this factoid. Gutless... cops wont answer the question.

  gut·less ˈɡətlÉ™s/ adj informal

  1. lacking courage or determination.

  Did she have a story like mine? Maybe even worse?

  Consider Saginaw Michigan as YOUR next vacation destination Reader!

  The Michigan State... cop Motto?

  I wonder if it's the same as the Saginaw Michigan... cop Motto?

  "Destroy the victim. That'll shut them up"!

  

  YEAH... THEY WOULD... It's what people with no honor do to children...

  Soooo... there I was. Minding my own beeswax in several places actually. The gang brags they committed a few of my kidnappings thusly. Quite a few....

  Once again... Sooooo... there I was, minding my own beeswax as a teen, and some new bully who'd had a "group bullying session" with me blindsided me & grabbed my drink, spinning round & round in place they tried to taunt me into fighting for it.

  I refused.

  They handed the drink back.

  One of the more talkative gang bangers tells me the way the scam works is they grab your drink, slip in a knockout drug or hypnotic drug (trust me oh ye child-serial rapists seeking advice, there's not a... cop in America that believes a rapist would use hypnotic drugs because they're way too hard to get. You'd need a pharmacist & there's not a corrupt one in America, and the nail in your victim's coffin is... it'd be unethical!!!!!!) under the guise of hooliganism or joking around, hand the drink back to the victim, & either have an ambulance & a... cop kidnap them, or just have a friend insert lead them away by the hand once the hypnotic drug takes effect.

  My Child-Molesting contact told me that the ease with wich the gang had begun kidnapping me thusly made me somewhat of a joke to the group.

  RAPE! Rape! rape... the Bay City... cops had a field day raping me as of late.

  Whatever...

  CHILD-MOLESTER ALERT!!! November 14, 2017

  Yeah... I've spent several days in yet another (sigh...) gang SLEEP-DEPRIVATION ATTACK!!!

  In recent days it was just the same animal noises tape played over & over with an occasional soft firecracker lit nearby. Easy to ignore, so I obeyed the Bible. If they persecute you in one city, move to the next. So I left Armold MD & moved to Anapolis MD. With only a slight delay the attack began anew.

  Last night, the attack was taken to the next level. At least 2 men (I heard them talking, children too... of course) who were in poor physical shape pounded on the trees not 25 yards from my place with what I'd guess was a plank or log after I got home shortly after dark until after midnight. My Ritchie Hwy/Boulter's home is isolated from my neighbors who I'd bet heard very little if anything.

  When I moved to investigate the very nearby "poorly made animal noises" they stopped immediately leading me to believe they were produced by someone watching on a small camera as I don't think someone that close could've avoided my search. I checked the trees and found the bark on some to be bruised & battered due to repeated pounding by out of shape men. How do I figure that? They didn't seem to be able to pound for long before tiring. Whoever is in charge of stalking me is surely slacking. Martin Oak would surely have coked those guys up & they'd have pounded like mighty molesters into the night. Poor show slackers. Poor show indeed.

  This has strained me physically & mentally. I'm probably what I'll call in the early stages of sleep deprivation. You get tired, mental abilities only mildly impaired. I've come up with "a plan", we'll see.

  What does this mean?

  Since I was "lured" here by an easily provable bait & switch con I can only conclude the gang, which boasts interstate friends from state to state in the molestor community (who as a courtesy tell me they all cover for one another... for a fee) I figure they wanted me here or nearby for reasons unknown... but I can guess (and none of my guesses are good). A simple frame-job or is "The End" for me. If so the gang has promised me 100 times that anywhere from 1 to thousands (the thousands is more recent) will die horrible deaths to insure the Gang's revenge for the indignity of "The Gym".

  Simply put... lots & lots of people are probably about to die. Quite possibly horribly.

  I suspect that if I am unable to extricate myself or get the proper amount of R.E.M. Sleep (look it up... cops) I will grow increasingly irrational, unpredictable, & all the other good stuff that comes with sleep deprivation.

  Simply put... the gang would NOT do this to me if their ducks were not all in a row.

  To that end I suspect that the... cop(s?) on duty last night responsible for answering calls to my address was indeed crooked, in case I called the police. Failing that the gang tell me they would normally keep them busy during attacks by pinning them to a single spot by creating family disturbances, bar disturbances & such where cops are pinned to one spot but no one actually goes to jail. I'd bet on the crooked... cop being on call.

  Driven insane by madmen for reasons of profit & revenge. Not as glamorous as... cops try to tell me.

​

  Please help me!

  I asked My Cousin. Why are you telling me this"?

  He told me it was so that when I repeated it it would make it easy to reflect the accusation back on me and be my undoing. Until I wrote it in my letters to the F.B.I. as of late I told no one.

VIOLENCE & RAPING BABIES... The print is small to be symbolic.

  Sooo there I was at My Mother's Parent's place at one of their "grande parties" they had every spring, summer, & winter. I was the official beer gopher. The assembled adults told me that it wasn't to be mean that I was the beer gopher, it was because I was obedient & came when called, and speedily went and got a beer when commanded, I didn't drink at all (a bonus because all the other children would help themselves to the beer whenever they came near them), I didn't have to be paid (only when compared to the other children who wouldn't do squat except when paid or threatened), I always selected the coldest brews & even grabbed the correct brand when there was a choice. They also included that as a bonus, being I was hated & an object of the gang's vengeance, that pictures of me walking around the parties carrying a beer would go a long way to proving that I was a drunkard child one day in court. Plus all the other obvious perks of having pictures of young me carrying beer often.

  I recall My Cousin asking me why I obeyed? No one else did. So why should I? At the least I should act up & milk the gang for money like all the other children did.

  I told him I was a Christian & no hypocrite. If I one day found myself as a drunk & wanted a Christian boy to fetch my beer for me I'd want him to do it promptly & get me a cold one. Then I explained that by being the best Christian I could be I hoped to win him & as many of the others as I could over to become Christians.

  He told me it was a dumb plan. He appreciated the effort but he was too old, too set in his ways to become a Christian now.

  He told me that his reason for asking me to fetch him a beer was because he was a gang leader. Often he would ask someone to fetch him a beer & they'd get lost in the party, forget, bring back a warm one or the wrong one, demand cash, & he'd have to punish them. "I don't want to punish anyone I just want a beer".

  It was at times like this that he'd say things like. "From one mass-murderer to another". Being that we were both mass-murderers he could chat with me. One killer to another. Today he had something to say.

  "Notice how your Mother was only in the Hospital a few days when she had Annette? Annette is my sister.

  "Yeah".

  "Notice how when she had Michelle she was gone for a few weeks, almost a month"?

  "Yeah".

  He claimed the people at the Bunga-Bunga Hospital had put My Mother on drugs for a few weeks & he pimped he a _ _  out. Pointing out that traditional sex with a woman who'd just had a baby wasn't really an option. "Your Uncle watched you kids for a few weeks"... he said he'd watched us kids for a few weeks knowing she was doped up in a brothel somewhere & my parents had no idea. He then claimed he knew men who'd pay big bucks for sex with a newborn baby & he'd made a fortune on Michelle. Most of the time My Mother was on drugs was waiting for Michelle to heal from her ordeal, once she had they took My Mother off the drugs & handed her the baby & acted like no time had passed.

  PRACTICAL joke or the plain truth of "growing up molester"? Idano? Maybe a little of both? Frankly... I don't want to know.

  So I asked My Mother (Honor, Honor, Honor) & told her about the conversation. Rare only in that I almost never shared any of his conversations with anyone, they were too painful, physically speaking of course (family reprisal was swift & painful).

  My Mother tod me I was wrong. She'd only been in the Hospital a couple of days. When I told her about my Uncle's involvement she talked to him.

  He told her she'd only been gone 2 days.

  I told her he was lying. It'd been over 2 weeks.

  He suggested I be punished for lying.

  I'll admit I was worried. It was almost a certainty I'd be punished if any adult even mentioned the possibility I deserved a punishemnt for any reason whenever My Mother was around (I'll throw in a few more Honor, Honor, Honors here). I told her I was The Good Kid, they didn't call me The Good Kid for nothing, and I'd bet I had a better track record of telling the truth than he did in her life, and then asked what could possibly be my motive for lying?

  I wasn't that surprised when she told me I was a liar, but I was surprised that I went unpunished. Unheard of !!! I'd told her My Cousin had claimed to kidnap her & rape her newborn baby, I had disagreed with her, called her brother a liar & kidnapper IN her presence, and gone unpunished.

  Still later My Mother & Her Brother had an argument later. While I heard the yelling I'm not sure what it was about. No one would tell me. We left the grande party abruptly & we didn't see him for nearly a year.

  So you baby-rapers seeking baby-raping advice paying attention? This is how to rape babies & come out of it smelling like a hero because when the story is retold the ONLY person who comes out smelling bad is YOUR victim. Please dont send me any baby-raping money, no need to thank me baby-rapers, just knowing you're out there and are bringing love to children as only child-molesters can is reward enough for me. GULP!

  ...

  There I was... I think I was in my bedroom. Picture a small room with 1 window, a single door, a bunk bed & a dresser. The only artwork was my scale solar system on the wall of the room , my "best of" rock collection" below it, & hot rod curtains. Picture a baby crying in the background. Not that unusual really. Newborns like by baby sister Lisa were wont to cry from time to time.

  Now that I think about it, I think I was in the kitchen. I'm not re-writing the story to accommodate this fact. I'd suppose it's another Godsend to dirty... cops everywhere. Not proof that I really don't care, I figure I'm most likely doomed no matter what & I know that the gang contrives it's power through reflecting the accusations of their victims back at them & I'm really not in the mood to begin my 100 life scentences & dozen death penalties today or on almost any other given day so this story IS NOT putting me in my happy place right now IF you know what I mean?

  Okay, so there I was, kitchen, baby crying, ho hum... right? My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) bursts in! She very quickly explained Lisa (my baby sisyter) had just flipped her high-chair & fallen over and knocked out her front teeth!

  I told her that if we could find them quickly & get them on ice we could get her to a doctor & maybe they could be saved!

  She told me to help her find the teeth in the living room.

  I think the entire household was there & we all looked. 5 minutes or more. A long time. I was perplexed. They couldn't have gone that far. Still, for the baby, I would keep searching forever, or as long as it took.

  My Mother announced she had found the teeth & placed them in a handy it was there empty pill bottle. Then she announced she was taking the baby to the hospital & her Brother would be watching us while she did it.

  She seemed to take a lot longer to get ready than I was comfortable with as I recall it...

  Ultimately I asked her if I could see the teeth? Just so I could see what had caused so much trouble?

  She handed me the pill bottle.

  I poured the 2 baby teeth into my hand. Roots and all. The I said. "These are dry".

  My Mother called me a liar. Then she pointed out we'd taken so long to find them that surely they'd be dry by now because of evaporation.

  I told her the contents of the teeth were dry. Nerves and all. I told her to look at the baby Lisa. She'd quit bleed for a while now. I was no expert but it seemed like she'd still be bleeding to me.

  "What are you implying"? She took the teeth from me, called me a liar, threatened me, and promptly left with the baby Lisa for an hour or so. She announced there was nothing that could be done to savew the baby's teeth. Then she threw an admission paper from the Bunga-Bunga Hospital at me & told me to read it. Noting that if she'd knocked the baby's teeth out like I'd accused her of they would never have listed it as an accident & surely would've arrested her.

  Me? I was very worried indeed at that moment & asked her to reconsider the situation. Id' said those things but only because they were true. I'd implied nothing and until this very moment hadn't even considered the possibility that the entire situation was anything other than an accident and had happened exactly as she had said.

  "What about now"?

  I read the accident report of the Bunga-Bunga Hospital admission paper as my defense & she seemed satisfied & dropped the whole thing.

  My Cousin had a different take on it.

  "I hear you noticed the teeth were dry"? Yeah... the teeth were dry because the last week Baby Lisa was at My Mother's Parent's house she wasn't really there, but was being pimped out by him & Baby Lisa bit the John. He'd been a high-ranking Boss so he hauled off & belted her, knocking her 2 front teeth out. The rag I'd seen was the bloody rag they'd used to stop her bleeding. The gang had "put her on ice" (locked a victim away until their wounds heal sufficiently so as to avoid possible police reprisal AND to facilitate even more cash on the rape circuit tour win/win/. He claimed guys "paid to rub up on her even though she was bruised".

  For me it was just another day at a child-molester party in America's heartland. I'd suppose that if I were to translate it into Bay City... cOP "copspeak" It would read as. Another wholesome day among child-molesters who were obviously misguided but otherwise wholesome & honorable because ALL child-molesters love children and would never hurt one or lie to them because their child-love is so great it would be an impossibility.

  This story is true to the best of my ability.

  Yeah... Dirty Cop... ole Peaty K. himself was intimately involved & ran interference, especially during their "training & acclimation period". where he must've worked full-time for the gang.

  Yeah... I picked off a bunch of Jocks too. I didn't have the occasion to preform autopsies myself but they whined about a few deaths, maimings, and amputations & disfigurings.

  When I complained to Duh Jerk (YEAH! I complained. Me) & Duh Jerk bragged. "I don't care who gets hurt. It's how I beat the cops. They figure that if I was a gang leader I'd care about my guys but I don't care who gets hurt".

  SINCE YOU'RE DREAMING... WHY DON'T YOU KILL??? A LOT OF PEOPLE... tons & tons and tons... strictly by body weight...

  Central High School... there I was... some kid waltzes up as I'm leaving... he's got a lot to say... "You killed a lot of people recently. Don't you remember"?

  Yeah... when I searched my memory I did remember... it'd been a bloodbath. So many had died I figured it all had to be a dream. Not so he assured me. "We kept you awake for weeks". They bragged they'd tortured me. Keeping me on their "date rape drug(s?)". They brag the way it works is you keep the victim dosed on an amount of drugs that prevents long-term memory from working. It's very tiring. A victim would fall asleep in mere seconds if not constantly jostled or slapped awake. Then working in shifts they jostle & slap the victim  for weeks on end until their mind reaches a malleable state from sleep and dream deprivation. Then they put the victim on so many uppers that it's medically impossible to sleep, their happy drug(s?) that make their victim think all the world is their friends, and then they do evil deeds.... very, very evil deeds...

  He... they... the 4 Stars bragged they'd taken me all over the country & the Child-Molester Triangle & convinced me to kill... lots and lots and lots of people. They'd rid themselves of vast swaths of the gang's enemies both personal and financial & filmed the entire ordeal.

  We sat down at filmed planning committees where the 4 Stars & their recent Inserts acted like my best friends. We planned the mundane. We planned normal child life (as best I could I'd suppose), we talked love & life... ALL on film.

  Every now & again I'd become lucid & start fighting. They mocked me when they bragged I was on their strength reducing drug(s?) & they easily overcame me. You see reader, Unlike a normal torture session like you see on tv each hour is unique unto itself. You just aren't learning how to resist your captors because you have no long-term memory. Of course this hampers filming as I might repeat myself endlessly but they had nothing but time. Over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over they plied me until they got their "best of" films. Of course between these sessions I  was gang-raped, usually by men but often women, animals, appliances. They slapped me awake or engaged me whenever I might doze off & filmed them all.

  Martin Oak was very much in charge of the entire thing. He directed every last detail personally from day to day, from hour to hour. Soon... we were driving all over. Killing...

  The way it worked was they drugged me. Drove to location. Then waited until I was nearing my next dose. Then one of the 4 Stars would drive me to a location. The car was always loaded with Jocks in black. Then they'd slap me lucid & say. "Since you're dreaming why not take this gun/knife/whatever & kill that guy/woman/child/anything"?

  A few times I became lucid & fought. The Jocks & the Stars beat me down & drugged me anew. Jocks surrounded us at various choke points depending on terrain & buildings & the few times I fought them off... cops, dirty... cops rolled on up & arrested me and put me into waiting ambulances.

  But usually... I giddily killed who or whatsoever they suggested I kill.

  Then they'd propose I come with them. Remember that without being constantly engaged the victim quickly falls asleep in the car. Then they'd move on to the next victim. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. Rinse... Lather... Repeat...

  In the in between hours they let me off the drugs for medical reasons (go figure?) & openly planned their next murders in front of me. Delirious I could do little but watch as Martin oak asked "Who wants to take him out next & kill someone"?

  The 4 Stars, Inserts, & a few Jocks all eagerly put their hands up high & shaked their arms. "ME! ME"! Then they expressed disappointment at having been turned down as a whole & the lucky person was ordered to drug me & take me to the next person to be killed.

  The logistics were such that there were a few close calls & times things didn't go as planned. When this happened the gang took me straight to a location and doped me accordingly & shot films to cover for themselves & incriminate me all the more.

  He went on to describe that the gang had divested themselves of a plethora of enemies in the last few months all over the country & who knows where in total? They contacted other child-molesters from all over & asked them if they'd like to be able to kill their enemies (personal and business) in a way that could never come back on them & they'd made a killing. Financially speaking of course.

  He claimed they'd drugged My Mother & Sisters & pimped them out the entire time & convinced my teachers to cover the whole thing up under the guise that he was my friend. "The kid is a friend of mine & he's sick. Cut him a break & let him do his homework at home until he gets better & mark him as having attended". He claimed they went to great lengths doing my homework for me and made sure I got mediocre or sub-par grades.

  I asked my teachers and every single one of them told me they'd broken the schools attendance rules at Martin Oak's request & marked me as having been present for the last month.

  I went home & asked my sisters what month it was and was impressed that each of them was one month off. I trried to warn them but they would hear none of it.

  I know this tale seems short but in & of itself it likely has the highest body count of all my tales.

  I'm sorry.

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