"Oh, We Don't Talk to Hiii-iiim."

Another suggestion that's been thrown at me throughout this horrific, illegal persecution I've been subject to is that of a "transformation" coinciding with the suggestion that what's been done, including alternating insinuations that I'm a dog or a child, has been good for me--a notion that is completely bogus.

I went and got a few shots at an Occupy event yesterday.  To my pleasant surprise, I got introduced to a writer with a major independent news outlet in the area who was real nice to me.  Then another photographer who takes great shots of Occupy said hi and we actually talked about photography for a few minutes and she was super authentically nice.  Towards the end of our conversation, the gentleman pictured above walked over as if he was in a hurry and said, "Ohh, we don't talk to hiii-iiim."  It was cool because the person I'd been chatting with kind of looked looked him off and I ended up talking to her briefly again later.  In the interim, I drifted near this fella and he something very loudly about "living on the street causing a transformation."

News Flash to the idiot pictured above and all his punk friends:  There has been no transformation.  If there had been, I'd be working for the F.B.I. right now making a 6-figure salary starting with a number not far from being a two, as was offered in the summer of 2010.  I've said before, dumb-asses, that federal authorities have been trying to blackmail me.  It is only because there has been no "transformation" whatsoever that I am still living out of a van and pursuing a career in journalism.  It's not because I'm angry at anyone or that I must get my way, as has also been insinuated.  It's because my skills, experience, and education all point to news media.  I have a B.A. in Communications.  I have worked in television news in New York.  I can take a decent photograph.  I can write non-fiction with anyone.  All of these things were true before your little "transformation" program started.  If you've transformed anything, you've damaged my writing ability very slightly, but I promise--it will recover completely.

Finally, I've filed 2 police reports and recently followed up on one of them.  They read this blog and they're looking at your picture right now.  I'll advise ya one last time:  stop...fucking...with me.

"That's it Vinnie... fuck it up! Fuck it up, Vinnie!

Tear one up and move on to the next!"

--Christine Faranda

Welcome Wagon

I'm going to keep this brief.  I was going to write a big long subtly cutting message, but why?  I  have more important things to do.  A fella who "knew who I was" and claimed to have been helping me previously and part of some SF homeless advocacy group approached me as I was about to start taking some shots of City Hall and I believe he said "Welcome to SF."  Awwwwe.  That is really, really sweet.

Briefly:  If you're someone who assumed I was guilty until very recently, though I've never been arrested let alone tried--which I must assume is true of this guy because of the timing of the welcome speech, ie., its coinciding with the confirmation that the woman who accused me is a complete whack-job with serious, serious issues--you are my enemy.  If you want to make it all up to me, here's how to do it.  Leave me alone.  Let me do a few cool things in town while I'm still here in fucking peace.  I moved to NY with $700 awe by mysewf and didn't do bad at all.  I came to SF while being harassed and stalked by everybody and their brother.  I've survived an immediate family of fanatics who'd been trying to get rid of me for quite some time.  To top it all off, my biological mother is a whacko, too.  I'll take care of everybody one by one.  The ball is rollin' against Christine.  At the very least, I imagine it won't  be long until she's disbarred.  I've been living just fine out of a van for 2 years now.  If I need homeless advocacy, I will pursue it on my own accord like the mature adult I've been for quite a few years now.  There are people who need it more than I do.  Wanna make it up to me?  Let me be.  I'll fix things my way.

  

(No Tripod)

Denial of Service Attack

Well, now...upon  further review.  I did little research on I.P. Address abuse and the most commonly mentioned action someone can take against another person by getting their I.P. Address is a "D.O.S." or "Denial of Service Attack."  I'm thinkin' one could do a lot more than that with it.

Hmph....

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denial-of-service_attack

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Duplicate I.P. Address

When it rains, it pours, doesn't it?  I am compelled to consider this message quite seriously.   If this is accurate, it could explain a whollllllle lot, as I've been subject to several reminders over the past few years that I have no privacy whatsoever, including my e-mails and blog-post drafts that have not yet been posted.  It could also explain why I alternately have trouble logging on to wi-fi at various locations.  I think I just happened to click "diagnose problem" enough times on this occasion for the message to come through.  I guess I'll have to talk to to a computer-type fella and maybe show this to the po-po, as Crazy Christine liked to call them.   Here's an answer I found to the issue on Yahoo:

It means another computer or device with an IP address (xbox etc) is trying to use the same IP address as your computer thus information is being sent to both causing problems.

Hmmmmm.....fascinating...just fascinating.

..

Wakin' Up at the Crack O' Dawn...

 at 9 o'clock in the morn....

Filler Dialogue

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No Words

It's Good to Laugh

"Now I Can Track Your Every Move" --Christine Faranda

Warning:

Um--I have a suggestion:

As Doug Heffernan's Been Known to Say...

for all "intensive purposes," it is over...bitchessssss.

Click on this link and search "Faranda."...

http://cp.onlinedockets.com/loraincp/case_dockets/search.aspx

R.....F.....I.....D

At Long Last...

Ms. Faranda has threatened to sue me.  For what, in terms of an award, I'm not sure, considering that I have nearly nothing.  In terms of the basis for the suit, I would imagine it's defamation.  Well, I've studied that a bit, and I've learned that in such a suit, the burden of proof is, in fact, on the plaintiff.  Therefore, Ms. Faranda will, in effect, have to prove her presumed claim that I am lying.  In my immature, unintelligent, rube-ish naivete, I would guess that all I would need to do is lend a little credibility to my story, which I'm guessing can be obtained from some old Cleveland medical records from when Christine was a kid.  Either way, unless someone steps in to make me happy, my entire story, including all the connections, the blacklisting, my emergency room experience, and most importantly the explicit death-threat I received on this blog and have proof of, will be told to my attorney, detail by detail.

Here we go, baby.


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PDA Close-ups...Over, and Over, and Over...

I get the feeling that PDAs aren't nearly as much of a faux pas in San Francisco as they are in New York, where they are positively unacceptable.  Nevertheless, the frequency with which the above scene occurs directly in front of me couldn't possibly be a coincidence.  Often, as these two did, both players give me a purposeful sly glance once or twice.  They always speak their syrupy exchange at an abnormally loud volume during these public pseudo-make-out sessions that generally go on for 20+ minutes.  You putzes are going to learn to leave me alone.  I promise.

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Here's another good one...

Sometimes, it's funny...

For some reason I can't specifically identify, like many other strange things that happen on my computer, a collection of which I've shared with you, I can not log on the Wi-Fi at Sugar Cafe.  I've asked them about it, and their service is working fine and I can tell other people aren't having a problem.  So, I use some service that comes with a coupon-ad or something that you have to give your e-mail for every time you log on.  I give them my side/junk e-mail and, truthfully, haven't noticed  any SPAM apparently resulting from those log-ins yet.  Here's the page:

What's interesting, though, is that the service cuts out every few minutes despite its strong signal.  When I go to re-log in, the same ad appears on my screen every time and I am unable to go "back" to the page I was trying to get to when it disconned.  No problem...simply open links in another tab and/or get to the page I wanted through the History.

 

John's Watchful Comedian

Well, I'm not sure what that could possibly mean and I'm not going to spend a single minute wondering about.  It reminds of the time my asshole Scientologist fuchkead brother said to me, "We're gonna play a joke on you, ok?  When I replied, "Yeah, whatever."  My asshole Nazi-cop brother-in-law said, "Thaaaaat's enough."  and the Florida Flunkie got all happy.  He thinks he he's a comedian.

I know you're reading, Joey.  Understand this, you sorry-ass motherfucker:  my implants will all be removed and then I'm going to play a game with you.


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Silly...Just Silly

This idiot just started talking some kind of shit to me on the street.  I think he said, "You're going to jail." and added something about being "part of the 99%."  He shot some video of me and pointed up at the sky.

What are you gonna do, dumb-ass?  Frame me?  Trust me--it's been tried and has failed over, and over, and over.  One look at ya tells me you can't pull it off.  And for the record, I'm one of the 99%, too.  I've never been anything close to being in the 1%...dumb-ass.  I live out of a van...dumb-ass. Wake the fuck up.  I don't know what info you're operating on, but you've got understand that the U.S federal government, which you're probably a part of, is trying to blackmail or destroy me.  It's a misinformation/defamation false-flag game.  They made me a mind-controlled slave and they're using me.  In the name of all that is good, please, wake the fuck up...

 

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Luna-Suicide--Right on Cue

No surprise, here.

Right after my last post, I noticed a certain word repeated 3 times in a list of Luna songs I'd never seen there before.  Take a look:

 It's getting to be a joke.  It really is.

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Shitty Music

On my way back from Oakland last week, I overheard a couple comments that were clearly meant for me, each from a pussy that wouldn't have enough of a sack to confront me directly on his very best day.  One said something about being a "dog off leash," and the other one said something about "listening to shitty music to make himself feel better."

Just before the march during the Occupy event, I ran a very basic question by a professional photographer: "How many shots do you usually take at an event like this?"  He said, "Oh, five or six hundred.  Just keep shooting."  I was really relieved because at that Pro-Life Rally I shot, I didn't get there until the end, and I thought the 135 shots I took that day was a lot.  Sure enough, I ended up taking right around 620 shots in Oakland.  And trust me--I wasn't counting.  So, while those pricks on the train were trying to fuck with my head, I had the luxury of needing to continue the initial sort I started back in Oakland after the first march.  I'd say I deleted 150 shots right off the bat in the camera.

For a reason that I haven't completely figured out, different groups, including ones who apparently can't figure out where I stand, are all playing the same game with me.  No one will address me directly.  My number one priority is maintaining control of my mind, which I have successfully reclaimed despite continued efforts by federal agents to counter that.  My second priority is sleeping in a bed.  Maybe its just my schizophrenia, but early Saturday afternoon in Oakland, I thought I heard somebody say something about "rent-free" as he passed me in the crowd. 

If that was indeed meant for me, I think I'll take ya up on it, fellas.  You know where to find me.

Fuck every single person who has participated in my persecution.  EVERYONE.  You've helped me in no way whatsoever.  I was "grown up and stong" long before your dumb-ass game started.  I know exactly what's going on.  Exactly.