top of page

 Picture all the child victims of the Child-Molestors, standing in various shades of grey...                            Uhhh... Nope, no rape culture here.

 Who will help them? You? Who will avenge the dead? Will the... cops avenge them?

 

 

 

THE RAPIST CULTURE THAT PERVADES AMERICA... IT'S OUT THERE, AND IT'S GROWING AMERICA...

 

  It's out there America. It really trully is, a culture, a growing portion of America that no longer abhor the act of rape. For them it's something to laugh and joke about, to ridicule, to fantasize about, to participate in, and even to endorse. What? You want proof? My name is David A. George and a lot of people have called me many things, they've assigned me many titles, pointed thier fingers at me and declared that I was this, or that, or that I was one of them, or simply put not one of us. They've assigned me many a title so I'll pick a title for myself that way when... cops ask me... again, "Who are you that they would do such a thing to a nobody live you"? I'll answer back. "My name is David A. George and I'm Less Than Nobody.

 The Child-Molestors thrive on and in the growing rape culture in America. Lots of people are making money on the thriving rape culture in America and do you know what's worse than that? The culture of rape acceptance is not only thriving, it's growing. It's hit the maunstream and it's only getting worse. What? You want proof? Eh, to amuse you and keep my mind off of "TWO MORE FOR THE ROAD"... (which is unfinished as of 23 July 2014) I plan to scour the web and look for both pro and anti-rape signs. I'm not sure what it'll prove to skeptics (once the Child-Molestor's spin doctors dig thier claws into you it seems that there is NOTHING a victim can say or do before God or man to extricate themselves from their child-molesting rape-happy clutches) but it amuses me to do so. Amuses might not be my best choice of words but, eh, who cares? Dead man walking here, I can say or do anything I want. Read on reader, read on...

 

"Rapists are hard to spot. It's not like they're going to wear a sign or something"?

HOW TO SPOT A PROFESSIONAL RAPIST VEHICLE... Some are easier to spot than others... All of them work very well !!!

  The above was written purely for entertainment purposes, I'm certain that the good people of America cant wait to let the people in the vehicles below have all the unsupervised playtime they want to have with THEIR KIDS !!! It's just a joke,! Probably...

The oblivious... cop says. "What"?

"What"?

     /

    /

   /

"He he he".

I'd like to thank the following police agencies without whom none of this would be possible.

WASH ME ------------------------------>

  I predict the possibility that an oblivious... cop is going to walk up to me one of these days and ask me a question that would be apparent to most oblivious people. "Why are you doing this"?

  My answer? "Because I WANNA LIVE"!

  A BRIEF INTERMISSION..Very brief...

  Soooo... lets skip to the end for reasons that amuse me. A bragging snitch, one of my torturing kidnappers, a self-admitted rapist, serial-killer for fun and profit was boasting to me about all the good fun they had committing this heinous story upon my person. Snickering he said. "You play Twilight 2000 don't you"?

  I predicted what he was going to say, it's same old same old. I warily answered. "Yeah".

  With a wicked smile he said. "I hear you like to run a Mortal Kombat style tournament with your Twilight 2000 players. Well you'd better never run one again because one of your friends is one of us and he films all of your gaming sessions for us in case you say or do something that we can use against you and a film like that would be all that we need to be done with you for good". He went on and on, trying to goad me into attacking him so the gang of jocks parked nearby could cheerfully beat me to death legally.

  After I left that... fellow who, like me, was one of God's Children I pondered the situation before me. I'm contrary, I was angry... GRRRRR... I figured... I'm not letting THEM run my life, I'm not letting THEM define who and what I am, THEY ain't telling me what to do.

 So the first thing I did was went straight to Whine Asse's place where My Bomber Buddy and Wide-Eyes were, then I wrecked the game module they were playing in (it was solely my intellectual property, mine to do with as I pleased), then the first thing I did was run one of my Mortal Kombat parodies... also known as my most requested mission-type that I was in charge of.

  "Go ahead... tell everyone the truth". The card-carrying Child-Molestor (Who's probably STILL out there free in America) "We'll just tell everyone that you're trying to make yourself look good".

  My response? "Yeah... Whatever...".

  In the above tale the braggarts flip-flopped, sort of (it's rare, but it happens, but it's rare, but it happens, sometimes, rarely), he told me to recall what I'd done to the guy in the arena who'd agreed to kill me for $10,000. "You'd better not bring up what you did to him or you'll just hand us victory when this comes to court". Being that I was soooooo dishonorable back there that even the most fair jury would simply hand the Child-Molestors victory based solely on how I treated my attempted murderer.

  Eh... in my hand-written version I skipped it... so I'll preview it here.

  I was standing in the arena when Duh Jerk and his Fagboy pointed out my next opponent. He was a monster of a man. "I agreed to pay him $10,000 to kill you in the arena".

  Fagboy and his Weasel were beside themselves with laughter. The former champ was a stone-cold killer of men, not at all like the wimps before him.

  Stone Cold-Killer bragged on the subject and promised me death for $10,000 while laughing. His manager had tips for him, it seems he'd noticed a flaw in my fighting style and wanted to capitalize on it. At one point practically everyone around me laughed at me and promised me death.

  What could I do? I feared I might not be able to beat this monster on my best day, and now my muscles were shutting down. What could I do? So I hatched a plan. Some had seen the vast library of films about me and they told the rest that most assuredly I was earth's greatest scumbag and they could feel good about what they were doing to me.

  The match was getting ready... all parts of my attempted murder were coming together flawlessly. So I walked up beside the Stone Cold-Killer who was actually discussing my murder for profit with his manager. Then I kicked him in the side of the left knee as hard as I could. KRACK! He went down like a sack of rotten potatoes.

  WOW! Was he mad! So was his manager and his entire crew. They demanded my death and several of the "Officials" in charge of the match agreed with him.

  Me? The conversation went from bad to worse with most people simply agreeing with one another that I should be killed here and now for my dishonorable behavior. Eventually, I figured I'd better say something and change the conversation... or die! Sooo... I simply told the Sheriff that there were no rules... I hadn't been handed a copy of any rules... so what?

  The Sheriff smiled and agreed with me! There were no rules... no honor... this was to the death... for profit...

  Duh Jerk... Martin "Duh Jerk" Oak said. "At least don't let him (he pointed at me) profit from his dishonorable act". He insisted that since there were as yet, unassigned fighters because of cancellations & injury drop-outs that one of them men should be assigned to fight me now, lest I get a period of undeserved rest.

  Fagboy, Duh Weasel, Short Stuff, all the gang, & several of the Judges all agreed with him.

  The Sherriff stepped up to Oak, he was over a head taller than him and the pair looked into each others eyes. The Sherriff refused him despite his plea. Then he said something like. "I don't know what's going on between you two and why you want him to die"? But the fight would go on. The crowd cheered and the aforementioned people all groaned. I was a bit distracted, was it $5,000 he'd agreed to pay The Champ to kill me? I think it was, but I'm not re-writing it either way.

  Yeah... Whatever...

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

  MORE "DISHONORABLE BEHAVIOR"??? I prefer the term "pushing the ethics envelope in a crisis situation"...

  Sooo there I was... in the arena above. Bored. Watching men fight & die, more likely only wounded for life if that'll make my more squeamish readers happy? Bored. I battled the drug(s?) they had me on as much as any of the men & even fought a war of words for my very life while Bay City... cops & their Bay City... F.B.I. counterparts were snickering in their respective parking lots (a guess) on the public dime. Like this.

  I tried to sneak up on the other fighters, all of'em & kick out their knee like I had The Champ. Not a single one let me near them no matter how sneaky I was. Yeah... I would.

  I needed as edge. I was in pain, muscles were shutting down. Something had to give. I prayed a lot. Atheist me that is. Here's what I did next...

  Picture me standing in the makeshift arena, my guards, men & teens who were my rapist torturers armed with an array of films that proved we were great buttbuddies stood behind me betting on the action. Why? The judges had judged me as too dangerous to allow near the crowd, I was attacking anyone all the time seeking any advantage to escape. Picture me coming up with a plan. I dropped to my knees & began sweeping the floor with my hand. All part of the plan. I looked at the man who was next against me & he seemed feeble by comparison to the big buck of a man, slayer of men whom they kept in a yoke between fights. I wanted to use my plan against him but was afraid to wait so long as my memory kept resetting, I was endlessly becoming aware of where I was, reassessing the situation, then trying to recall my plan if any & I recall forgetting it time & again. I had to act on this gem of a plan... now. While I still recalled it. Sweeping... sweeping... sweeping with my hand while men die behind ,me.

  The Molestors send a spokesman to ask me what I'm doing?

  I don't recall my answer, maybe it was a half-truth? A lie told to preserve my life in the face of madmen? An answer meant to stall? Eh... Who cares?

  Sooo... sweep sweep sweep, the match begins & I'm summoned to meet the next man. Not as impressive as the others, but Kipling's math still applied. I only had so much fight left in me, I had to win. I recall little of our conversation, but it was about the bounty on my life, and how he'd like the cash.

  The match began at The Sheriff's signal. We neared & I took the handful of dust I'd swept off the floor with my hands & threw it into the eyes of my adversary. Popped him good, stepped up, kicked the side of his right knee with all of my might! KKRRRACK!!! He went down like a bag of manure!

  WOW! Was the crowd angry! So was he & his crew! So were my Buttbuddies. Everyone was livid at this blatant cheat & many demanded my life.

  When "The Sheriff" stepped in to judge I told him he knew I was a kidnap victim & I felt no compulsion to obey any of their rules. IF that was a rules violation, I'd never been handed any rule book.

  The Sheriff decreed the match would continue & when the guy complained about his knee The Sheriff told him IF he could walk he was welcome to join the contest in 6 months again & kill me if I lived that long.

  My opponent screamed revenge & hurled cheater insults at me. That's okay, I hurled kidnapper & murderer for profit insults back at him & in my opinion if you could call it a verbal fight... I won.

  Call me what you will when the crowd calmed down & I waited on the next match I began sweeping again, but they sent some teens into the arena with big push brooms & swept. I still tried to get some dust but when it was apparent it was hopeless I just resigned myself to trying to come up with a new plan.

  The gang brag that when this alllllllll comes out, that it's times like this, where I pushed the ethics envelope, that will hand them victory.

  True.

​

​

​

​

​


 

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

  ANYTHING TO LIVE... anything... life in the 'ethically challenged lane"...

  Sooo... there I was. This actually happened a few times in my early 20s. The gang liked to economize their time & torture me beside a fellow, always female victim at times. Me? I figured the gals were card-carrying child-molesters proud to be there but who am I to call the gang liars?

  Men were tasked with torturing myself or the gal, switching between us, and a man with a gun & another with a knife stood guard.

   I became lucid. In seconds I assessed the situation before me & figured I'd best act before my memory reset itself. But how? Hmmmm...

  So I grabbed the girl, usually in her early 20s by the arm, twisted it behind her back violently, & used her as a human shield and rammed her into the guy who by now was pointing the pistol at me. Relying on the fact that most men will hesitate to fire on a beautiful woman I attacked my foes (multiple occasions mind you) who made no effort to block but instead chose to better point their pistols at me.

  POP! An eye poked out. Knees broken, whines about wrist damage later & complaints that said guards were very much punished for my escape. Child-Molestor style! Or should I say Bay City... cop style? Eh, maybe?

  Me? I escaped at gun point, Sometimes I used the gun to bluff my way out, pistol-whipped others, & shot at some.

  I recall being recaptured a few times & Duh Jerk screaming insults at his guys. "He's not like our other victims! You cant drop your guard around him for a second"!

  My opinion? You'd be surprised at how effective telling a few jokes & acting silly can be at making guards drop their guard for a moment. And sometimes a moment is all it takes sometimes to change someone's life forever.

  I hear the films are quite convincing & the gang has bragged that edited & even unedited films (that clearly show I'm a kidnap victim) are all the gang need to influence easily manipulated would-be vigilante... cops & formerly honest citizens.

  Whatever...

​

​

This is revenge for you killing Flesh".

"We've decided to follow you around for the rest of your life as revenge for the gym".

"We'll steal everything you have and take away everything you ever loved".

"They're going to take you out and rape and torture you for what you did to my son you son of a b _ _ _ _"!

"Why are you doing this to me"?

"Because of the gym".

  "They made me do things, and it's all because of you. I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU"!

  "You getting recruited by them is your own fault because I tried to warn you about them".


 

"Jerk told me he's in love with you".

"Because no one would do that to someone".

"I've seen the films! Don't try to lie to me! You're a serial-killer"!

"The pain will never end until you kill an innocent of my choosing".

"Why are you doing this to me"?

"For the Coke".

"I know those guys. They're nice guys".

  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!

bottom of page