Discover more from Future of Communications
The reality of being the man in the arena
The sadistic system of debt slavery revels in chewing up slaves who revolt
The (clickable) video above is me being interviewed right outside the court on Tuesday, having fought against the corrupt fake debt enforcement. I am euphoric (we got the judges and council to commit crimes with witnesses), as well as exhausted. I have a three hour drive to come to give a speech that evening, which was through driving rain and hill fog. By the end of the day I was nearly catatonic, yet struggled to sleep as I was still buzzing from the adrenaline.
You can also watch the video by We The People NE here:
A good friend who is ex-military did six tours of Afghanistan as part of helicopter crew on a live battlefield. He says that this war back home is far worse. The long term psychological oppression takes its toll on us. We are betrayed nonstop by the homeland institutions that are meant to protect us. The only “safe space” we have ultimately is the faith in our hearts that good will triumph over evil. We cannot dream of “going back” anywhere, only progressing forward into a better world that is wiser for having confronted hardships.
I have a general rule of never feeding the trolls, as it only energises and encourages them. I suspect there is reward for the paid ones for provoking a response. However, on this one occasion I am going to show you what happens largely unseen to my audience, to weaponise their effort against them. While I was preparing on Monday for court, I got this in my feed (and from multiple accounts, which I blocked):
Now, is this just a nutcase? A bad taste prank? A ruse to annoy me or unbalance me? Or is it actually an oblique death threat? I have had one before, but it was encoded in a way so as to be plausibly deniable. The effect of someone engaging in this kind of lowkey harassment is that various people start to reach out to me to bring it to my attention, and check I am OK. So my day becomes filled with distractions that divert my attention and drain my energy. It’s small stuff, and the kind of thing I normally don’t talk about. But at least you get to see a bit more of what going on unseen.
A few years ago I was busy promoting the value of rigorous algebra for telecoms network performance science. It has been a surreal journey to being defamed in the national press for my analysis of the Q drops, then finding myself outside a courtroom fighting trickery to get me to be surety to a bond attached to my birth certificate. The common thread is the rejection of delusions and deceptions, and the pursuit of truth, even if it is unpopular. Yet swimming against the tide of the masses does come at a cost. Those attached to false realities want to see you fail, to validate their cowardice.
The effect of the last few years, and especially being forced to watch loved ones being brainwashed and put in mortal danger, is to generate a persistent “ambient trauma”. Unlike a “shell shock” acute form of PTSD, it is a chronic exposure to psychological wounds and systemic overload. In the mornings I typically feel an incapacitating anxiety, that subsides by noon. It can take me a while to get going on some days, depending on how much adversity I feel. My ability to focus and stay on task comes and goes. It takes an immersive task like photography to calm me down.
This court case has loomed over me for days. It is a particularly disgusting situation. I have merely asserted by human right to due process, and asked to see evidence of the liability order from the previous year before paying. It is no exaggeration to say that the council is a terrorist organisation, using mobster tactics to force payment unlawfully. I have received endless malicious communications, threats to steal my property, and multiple visits to my home after having withdrawn the common law implied right of access. These are serious crimes of fraud and extortion. I feel unsafe in my own home.
I knew that going to court would put me in front of debt slave masters attempting to financially rape me. I own no property, have no salaried earnings to attach to, nor savings to plunder. My children are both over 18 so cannot be stolen by social services. I have no “respectable” reputation to lose. So I effectively have a “virtual chastity belt” of protection on to prevent them penetrating into my actual being and domicile. Yet it’s still an attempt to financially rape me, and is disgusting to its core. Others who have been in the same position of injustice talk of the same raw putrid feeling that it brings on.
On the morning of the court case, I spoke to a few friends. I needed to lie down for a bit, just to gather myself together. I knew I had many prayers, support from witnesses coming, and protection from above. I was confident I had taken good advice, and was sufficiently prepared. I am aware that I have had the appropriate training — top private school, world class university, blue chip corporate and consulting life — not to be intimidated by these lowlife goons. Still, I can feel the stress is at a damaging level. This is not something you can do over and over for a long time and stay healthy. In many ways I would prefer to face honest bombs and visible bullets than traitors in suits making unseen backroom deals.
“If the Devil cannot take you out he will wear you out” is a refrain that often comes to mind. This is a marathon type of war, not a sprint. We have to regulate demand for our effort to stay within what my telecoms friends call the “predictable region of operation”. As we get close to the boundary of what we can tolerate we “arm the hazard” of physical or mental health problems. It’s why my old camera being broken right now, and Fujifilm messing up the repair process, is painful to endure. The camera is my mental health maintenance tool, not just a piece of electronic apparatus.
The economic side of this war is real, and many of you are under extreme financial (dis)stress. The court case was about stopping those who would destroy us with initiatives like Net Zero using our own resources for those ends. Being an activist is a fine balance of keeping yourself just funded enough to keep going, without profiteering from the sacrifice of many others who have kept all of us alive this far, unseen and uncredited to date. There are endless fraudulent fees, fines, and taxes that drain our life force away. We are battling the worst case of parasites — that take the form of our own species, so are unrecognisable.
We get through this by standing together. If you like my output, it is because many people assist me unseen and provide good advice. I may get the credit for their insight, but that’s not something I seek or solicit. The flip side is that I am the one who has to turn up to fight in the enemy’s arena. It is uncomfortable, but having done it, I feel like I have grown. My resolve has been boosted by going to court, and they no longer seem invincible or invulnerable. We are scoring real hits against these crooks in the court of public opinion, where the real battle is taking place.
What I need right now are some basic resources to cover my costs: yet more court fees, winter tyres for my car (if I can get it sorted fast enough before financial collapse), travel to sites like Palnackie or local meet-ups, and IT outlays that never end. I would like a small cash buffer in case of hiccups, like when I had an unplanned night in a hotel going to London for my work, which left me with next to nothing. I have a modest bit of crypto saved up, but that’s for future use and emergencies only. Right now I have cash in my wallet to service my car on Monday, and am overdrawn. I cannot be fighting court battles while also producing art calendars to fund myself.
Other ways to give me a bit of a boost on the finances front are here. I promise to reuse any surplus that comes my way for the benefit of all. All I need for now are the tools to do the job: housing, transport, energy, fuel, food, tech kit/services, and unavoidable fees to the dying Beast system. My old phone breaking wiped me out financially, and I made a mistake in getting the lesser model phone in replacement, as I miss the telephoto lens to capture stuff I put on social media and in articles. So I am asking those at the periphery of the arena to supply the man inside it. Fair enough?