Cell Towers Attract Visitors To Government Subsidized Buildings

See something. Write something.

Okay, first Steve has to walk by this apparently homeless person sleeping in the outside foyer of the building where we live. He’s a known ‘aggressive when awake’ person who steals from local stores, then sells the merchandise to other local businesses and their customers and people on the street. At a resident meeting a few days prior the tenants were told that they could no longer sit out in front of the building in their walker chairs – in the backyard only. They claimed it made the building look like a nursing home. A few days later the directive was sent to all the tenants in writing. We were told by another tenant who often sits out front for the purpose of getting fresh air, watching people and traffic and socializing with their neighbors that often times there are as many as three people sleeping there.

A few days later on his day off Steve was in the office for another reason and happened to mention it to office personnel. They took a picture of the picture on his phone and later said they sent it right over to the manager who wasn’t in the building that day. She would take care of it and thank you for bringing it to their attention, since they were not aware.

It’s been a few days and I can’t see where anything was done and nobody got back to us. But on another matter, when I went to the top floor to take a picture of the warning signs on the door regarding the cell towers I passed on the stairway a white paper bag that appeared to be from a food place. Somebody’s hungry I thought, but why not take it with you? Why leave it on the stairs? I know people do that. They don’t like to carry trash, so they leave it where they finish it.

That thought about leaving the trash bothered me for a couple of days off and on. So much so that when I got up early this morning I thought I might go back, see if it was still there, and if it was to look at what restaurant it came from. There are three ways to get to the top floor. For whatever reason this day I took a different staircase. It wasn’t till I was halfway there that I realized this wasn’t the one. However, I kept going anyway.

Lo and behold I encountered a person on the top floor near the cell tower roof door. There were food containers, and some stuff I didn’t recognize that later turned out to be used tea bags.

He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He appeared to be finishing up getting dressed. It was pretty smelly and he was quite close to the door with the warning sign. I’m assuming the three doors at the roof level have the same signs on them.

I asked what he was doing up there, and his reply came out garbled. In fact, each reply even though he looked straight at me when he spoke was so garbled that it could have been a foreign language – one I never heard of. Finally I got, “I’m using the internet”. He had a phone in his hand. He pointed to the door and between garbles I got that he sits next to the door and can get an internet signal. I asked if he opened the door and he said that he never goes in that room. Frankly, I didn’t know there was a room. I thought the door opened to the roof. So, he of course found a way at some time to gain access, otherwise he wouldn’t know there was a room either.

He said he was waiting for his aunt. Where is she? She went to the store. This was at 6:47 AM Saturday 30 June 2018. I asked if it was okay if I took a picture of him, I’d put him on Facebook. He said no-o-o I don’t want to be on Facebook. I said, okay I’ll take a picture anyway, and he started in a bit of a rush down the stairs as I said, just to make sure you’re legal here. I snapped the photo and left down the stairs. I don’t know where he went.

Once in my apartment I thought to go back and check the stairwell where I took the original picture, and sure enough the bag was still there. Then I went back to where I found him and took pictures of the bag where he was. Then just for the heck of it to compare all three stairwells to the roof I went up the third middle one. The door at the top was wide open, not shut. I didn’t see anybody around, didn’t go in, just did a couple zoom shots, then left. I wondered why all the chains were not in place – not that the little chain would stop anybody. But why would the door be wide open so early on a Saturday morning, when no employees work on Saturday or Sunday? Earlier when I took Lilly for a walk I didn’t see any work trucks anywhere.

I think this guy should be looked at by medical people. He didn’t appear drunk or drugged, but had a hard time speaking. Maybe he has brain damage. Maybe he’s been doing this for a long time. Maybe there’s something sinister, maybe not. Still, I’m concerned that those radio waves could be harming him – his brain.

Maybe his aunt does live in the building. He looked like he slept where I found him, but was in control of his physical actions, even though not his speech. I didn’t wake him up, he was wide awake already and standing.

The food bags in both stairwells were from Rally’s. There was a candy bar wrapper on the third stairwell. I didn’t touch it.

Most of the time when tenants report something, nothing gets done, or even if it does the person reporting it never gets the courtesy of a response or feedback. So, rather than go through all that mess and not trust that they will look into the matter, I’m publishing it on Word Press, not Facebook. That’s all I can do.

There is no one who polices the building on any shift. They’re mostly not available. Bricks have been in stairwells for years and no one removes them. People use them to prop open doors for whatever reasons. The usual reason of ‘I forgot my keys’ doesn’t explain why when they leave, they put a brick in the door – that proves they knew they didn’t have a key before leaving. Maybe non-tenants are using the bricks too.

I don’t think those doors should be opened. I think they should be locked considering how dangerous the roof is. And nobody should be allowed to use the cell towers to hook up to the internet. How would they even know they could do that?

There are many mentally ill people being funneled into senior residences, who could get violent or reckless.

I think this warrants an investigation of National Church Residences security policies in their so-called senior residences around the nation. I think there has to be a limit on how many cell towers are allowed, and who decides that? A leasing agent? Are you kidding me? And how do you keep homeless people away from them? Certainly not by keeping the door open. How does the door get open? Maybe he isn’t homeless at all. There are too many maybes here.

This must be the room the uninvited guest was talking about.






 

Advertisements

Mystery Illness Solved But Not Cured

06-28-2018

KIRBY MANOR CELL TOWER DOOR 3

Ten months later: It’s the multitude of cell towers on the top of our building causing the noises and symptoms. What are all those wires doing in the trash room on the 7th floor where I live? Wrapped around pipes? Somebody installed some new devices on the roof. It’s like a city up there. City of Death.

There are huge health problems associated with those cell towers, aside from the cancer risk. Though lots of people get cancer in this building – too many. Lots of people die unexpectedly – too many.

Ever notice how the cell towers go up on government-funded buildings? And it’s never just one. It’s how many can we fit with no regard for the safety and well-being of the tenants? Seniors, handicapped, low income, no job people, immigrants, street people, who cares? They don’t. The government and the owners of the buildings who allow it without permission from those exposed to the hazards, think we all don’t have brains and are near death anyway. Well, they’re right about one part of the that, we’re sitting right beneath and many times beside death – so yeah we’re near death. Tenants for years have been reporting ghosts in the building. Maybe they’re onto something.

The roof could collapse from the weight of all of them. And many swing down over the sides of the buildings next to people’s windows. The cell towers, not the ghosts. But who knows about the ghosts except those who claim they’re here.

Those buildings where they accept government waivers and vouchers and section 8 to lower the rent for vulnerable people, and accept loans from HUD (Department of Housing and Urban Development) are the recipients of these towers. Of course the government or whoever is responsible for placing cell towers where they do, give the owners a financial incentive. Renters don’t have a say, because they’re never briefed on the hazards.

Owners of buildings who don’t accept government subsidies don’t have the towers. Mine’s two blocks from Lake Erie, so of course there’s a lot of spying going on in a multi cultural neighborhood with lots of immigrants, lots of drug and human trafficking, lots of high level government and low level government employees plus the shoreline that I’m assuming must be protected from Canadian Invasions. Of course once it’s out that terrorists are coming in from the south, they’ll change plans and come from the North via Canada from whatever Middle Eastern country wants to harm us.

Justin Trudeau, prime minister of Canada is too immature to run a country if he doesn’t understand the need for security at all USA borders. Canada is ripe for terrorist passageway into the USA. Trudeau gives comfort to the enemy by mocking our president’s concern for security, as if it’s all a big insult to Canadians. If Canada is our friend, then they will increase security at their own borders to keep terrorists from entering the USA.

When I look out over the landscape toward the lake, there are cell towers everywhere – not only disorienting people, but disrupting electronics too. In this building the electrical garage door is always on the fritz. The main door that has a swipe keypass, same thing. The elevator, same thing. The repair people can’t any of them to stay in good working order. What’s with that?

The synchronization of traffic lights often gets interrupted at main intersections. They go haywire, putting everybody at those intersections at risk for bodily harm from traffic accidents. Entire blocks lose access to power. Sometimes just individual stores. Except for a small segment of Gold Coast inhabitants who are rich, most of the area is mostly poor, which means most of the area is being exposed to high levels of dangerous frequencies that harm the nervous system, because there are so many cell towers everywhere poor people rent apartments. They’re not curing anything, that’s for sure.

WiFi (wireless networking technology) is the next big causal link to neurological diseases and disorders. It uses radio waves (radio frequency technology) emitted from cell towers to wirelessly connect the world via internet devices. I don’t have to predict it, I’m experiencing it.

AT&T is in our building. So is Spectrum Cable aka Time Warner. That means the NSA (National Security Agency) is using this location as a spy depot. Internet issues run rampant in this building. Cable T.V., same thing. Different species but still the ‘same animal’ type scenario. With the AT&T and Spectrum merger everybody gets the spy treatment on all of their devices plus the most vulnerable in society foot the bill for everybody else in the ‘high risk to health’ environment where the cell towers live.

They’re monsters. Both. The cell towers and the ghosts.


Refer to original article:

https://happywhitehorse.com/2017/09/01/outdated-listening-devices-kill-people/

Outdated Listening Devices Kill People

It wasn’t Cuba as everybody claimed when American embassy personnel got sick from sounds, and exhibited neurological symptoms as a result.

Just as it wasn’t Cuba in my own Villa Saint Rose of Lima building where I live in Cleveland, Ohio [on the edge they call it] where CIA reigns supreme, conducting along with FBI and NSA and Mossad and Maxine Waters, social experiments via HUD.

The pain in my ears was so severe, so intense, for weeks. Late day till morning when it was gone, day after day, night after night. Sore throat on sides deep down into neck under ears. Eustachian tubes – the remembering of the terminology made me recall I was a nurse once. Then I remembered the doctor who took my gallbladder out who said to me, “once a nurse always a nurse”. Never go away pain except for periods of time during a 24 hour period – while sleeping.  Could hardly move my body, I mean my entire body could hardly move, the more late in the day/night it became.

I’m being paralyzed is all I thought. But by what? I’m still thinking, I’m being paralyzed. But by what?

I fall in bathroom when I get up to pee in the night, get a concussion, terrible fall, like nothing ever I experienced, can’t walk straight anymore, going off-balance all the time – dizzy, just like those ambassadors. I’m dying.

And nobody sees it. Nobody knows it. I can hardly hear anything. That’s what they wanted. All those perverted government people who like to destroy people because they were hired to do it. That’s my job they always say.

Blame it all on Cuba, when really it was the USA experimenting on their own. Making Cuba responsible, so the USA can extort them again – really? – again?

And if it was of course, as always, Russia’s fault, then it must be of course President Trump’s fault.

Does anybody even know that I am as much Russia as I am Lithuania? Just an aside here in a Scottish war: What, a Scot can’t be a Russian? Come on.

It wasn’t Cuba – unless Cuba is in my building using those same flawed, outdated devices – and if they are, then why?.

WHY??

I’m thinking about a Russian down the hall. Maybe she really isn’t Russian. Who cares? I don’t.

No. It’s upstairs or downstairs – not sideways – not lateral; this is how these devices work – in past. Up or down.

Sonic devices. Sonic torture. Of course I’m all over it. Are you kidding me? You can’t fucking stop a hurricane?

I don’t know the device. I can’t see it. My brain knows it. My soul will find it and when that happens, then God damn those who tried to kill me by sound.

I know the torture. I am experiencing that torture now.

Stop.

You’re killing me and you’re killing Lilly Belle Pi, the most beautiful dog on the planet.

I live at Kirby Manor, Cleveland, Ohio.

It historically was called Villa Saint Rose of Lima.

Midnight Rose lived and died here of neurological deficits.

Wherever Rose lived, and it was in many places, we always called where she lived Rose’s Castle. We always did that for her, because she demanded it by her presence.

Well, Rosie – Midnight Rose, our deceased dog daughter –  is working tonight – is sending out an SOS to every animal on the planet – other than human.

Happy dreams and sweet dreams, Mama. This one is for you!

I am being paralyzed by sound.

We’ve got you covered Mama. Don’t worry. Sleep. Rest. Please Mama trust us.






 

Black Lives Were In The Neighborhood Last Evening

Boundaries were crossed. The backyard to the building I live in does not constitute as the neighborhood, but that’s how one person treated it. It is private property – not a gathering place for outsiders.

Friday 22 September 2017 a young adult black man dressed in a black skirt and a red blouse sporting an afro haircut entered the backyard uninvited and proceed to verbally assault a young white granddaughter and then her old white grandmother in a wheelchair. Then he/she verbally abused and physically threatened with a poke, a brick and threat gestures, the other elderly tenants sitting in the same backyard at a picnic table.

This happened in the early evening and continued for at least twenty minutes, while I shouted from my apartment window to attempt to break his/her stride and keep her from throwing a brick at the wheel-chaired white woman, who was being taunted and screamed at to throw the brick at the black man/woman.

She’d retreat, then turn around and lunge, retreat, come back closer again and again till she ran to pick up this brick that looked like it was going to be thrown, then slammed it on the picnic table and tried to force the white woman to pick it up and throw it at her. He/she shouted obscenities getting up close to her face, screaming like a drill sergeant on T.V.

She heard me, she eventually left, after returning several times to finish her violent rant about white trash. She did all this in front of the young white girl whom she told was going to grow up to be a horrible person like her grandmother, and who was the initial target of the abuse.

At one point when he/she returned, he/she tried to divide and conquer the group by separating with his/her arms the people, saying these were okay, but these were not.

Another time, he/she grabbed his/her large purse, put it around his/her shoulder with the purse facing forward beneath her abdomen, and while she screamed, kept touching it and looking at it, which made me think he/she had a gun.

He/she poked the wheel-chaired woman in the upper arm with an exaggerated long-fingered poke, wanting the woman to strike back. She did not strike back and she did not pick up the brick. There were two black women in the group. None of them seemed able to deter the abuser, though I couldn’t hear all of what the others were saying. They maintained their calm.

When I finally went out, they were visibly shaken. Nobody knew who she was, and thought she was taking a short cut to the next street over. Short cut or not it was a planned hit. It was simply too orchestrated.

The management told me when I was in the office signing a lease , while also voicing security concerns that they (meaning National Church Residences) don’t care about security.

On Friday and Saturday evenings all the local places have a police presence, yet we have none and we’re in the center of a lot of street activity. We need a security presence on those two evenings. Eight years asking. Eight years, “one thing at a time”.

We need a gated backyard that discourages people from cutting through. It’s already set up for a gate, they have the door to the gate. Eight years asking. Eight years, “one thing at a time”.

A lighted walkway in the back. Eight years asking. Eight years, “one thing at a time”.

A new back door or a dead bolt lock. Presently there is an inside door lock on an outside door and people often use a screwdriver to enter. In winter sometimes it takes thirty or more seconds to open. Their cure is WD40, when it should be ‘change the lock’. Eight years asking. Eight years, “one thing at a time”.

They don’t want to change keys. They want the tenants to be able to unlock the mailbox, the back door, the rest rooms, the laundry room, the computer room, storage locker room and any other room with the same key.

Somebody could have died last night or been severely injured, because this Black Lives Terrorist knew he/she had unfettered access to all the old white people he/she wanted, or could want in the future.

Our backyard is our backyard. We need to feel safe there – and not subject to Black Lives Terror strategies. No one should be in our back yard unless they’re a tenant or an invited guest. We pay for that yard. We don’t want it corrupted by hate. We don’t want to fear stepping out into our own yard in the early evening or any time else. And we don’t want our grandchildren to live in fear.

We don’t go into your private backyards. Keep out of ours.

 

This sign appears beside the door with the lock often opened with a screw driver. There is no surveillance of that door. Everybody knows it.

 

 

 






Outdated Listening Devices Kill People – updated

It wasn’t Cuba as everybody claimed when American embassy personnel got sick from sounds, and exhibited neurological symptoms as a result.

Just as it wasn’t Cuba in my own Villa Saint Rose Of Lima building where I live in Cleveland, Ohio [on the edge they call it] where CIA reigns supreme, conducting along with FBI and NSA and Mossad and Maxine Waters, social experiments via HUD.

The pain in my ears was so severe, so intense, for weeks. Late day till morning when it was gone, day after day, night after night. Sore throat on sides deep down into neck under ears. Eustachian tubes – the remembering of the terminology made me recall I was a nurse once. Then I remembered the doctor who took my gallbladder out who said to me, “once a nurse always a nurse”. Never go away pain except for periods of time during a 24 hour period – while sleeping.  Could hardly move my body, I mean my entire body could hardly move, the more late in the day/night it became.

I’m being paralyzed is all I thought. But by what? I’m still thinking, I’m being paralyzed. But by what?

I fall in bathroom when I get up to pee in the night, get a concussion, terrible fall, like nothing ever I experienced, can’t walk straight anymore, going off-balance all the time – dizzy, just like those ambassadors. I’m dying.

And nobody sees it. Nobody knows it. I can hardly hear anything. That’s what they wanted. All those perverted government people who like to destroy people because they were hired to do it. That’s my job they always say.

Blame it all on Cuba, when really it was the USA experimenting on their own. Making Cuba responsible, so the USA can extort them again – really? – again?

And if it was of course, as always, Russia’s fault, then it must be of course President Trump’s fault.

Does anybody even know that I am as much Russia as I am Lithuania? Just an aside here in a Scottish war: What, a Scot can’t be a Russian? Come on.

It wasn’t Cuba – unless Cuba is in my building using those same flawed, outdated devices – and if they are, then why?.

WHY??

I’m thinking about a Russian down the hall. Maybe she really isn’t Russian. Who cares? I don’t.

No. It’s upstairs or downstairs – not sideways – not lateral; this is how these devices work – in past. Up or down.

Sonic devices. Sonic torture. Of course I’m all over it. Are you kidding me? You can’t fucking stop a hurricane?

I don’t know the device. I can’t see it. My brain knows it. My soul will find it and when that happens, then God damn those who tried to kill me by sound.

I know the torture. I am experiencing that torture now.

Stop.

You’re killing me and you’re killing Lilly Belle Pi, the most beautiful dog on the planet.

I live at Kirby Manor, Cleveland, Ohio.

It historically was called Villa Saint Rose Of Lima.

Midnight Rose lived and died here of neurological deficits.

Wherever Rose lived, and it was in many places, we always called where she lived Rose’s Castle. We always did that for her, because she demanded it by her presence.

Well, Rosie – Midnight Rose, our deceased dog daughter –  is working tonight – is sending out an SOS to every animal on the planet – other than human.

Happy dreams and sweet dreams, Mama. This one is for you!

I am being paralyzed by sound.

We’ve got you covered Mama. Don’t worry. Sleep. Rest. Please Mama trust us.


06-28-2018

Ten months later: It’s the multitude of cell towers on the top of our building causing the noises and symptoms. What are all those wires doing in the trash room on the 7th floor where I live? Wrapped around pipes? Somebody installed some new devices on the roof. It’s like a city up there. City of Death.

There are huge health problems associated with those cell towers, aside from the cancer risk. Though lots of people get cancer in this building – too many. Lots of people die unexpectedly – too many.

Ever notice how the cell towers go up on government-funded buildings? And it’s never just one. It’s how many can we fit with no regard for the safety and well-being of the tenants? Seniors, handicapped, low income, no job people, immigrants, street people, who cares? They don’t. The government and the owners of the buildings who allow it without permission from those exposed to the hazards, think we all don’t have brains and are near death anyway. Well, they’re right about one part of the that, we’re sitting right beneath and many times beside death – so yeah we’re near death. Tenants for years have been reporting ghosts in the building. Maybe they’re onto something.

The roof could collapse from the weight of all of them. And many swing down over the sides of the buildings next to people’s windows. The cell towers, not the ghosts. But who knows about the ghosts except those who claim they’re here.

Those buildings where they accept government waivers and vouchers and section 8 to lower the rent for vulnerable people, and accept loans from HUD (Department of Housing and Urban Development) are the recipients of these towers. Of course the government or whoever is responsible for placing cell towers where they do, give the owners a financial incentive. Renters don’t have a say, because they’re never briefed on the hazards.

Owners of buildings who don’t accept government subsidies don’t have the towers. Mine’s two blocks from Lake Erie, so of course there’s a lot of spying going on in a multi cultural neighborhood with lots of immigrants, lots of drug and human trafficking, lots of high level government and low level government employees plus the shoreline that I’m assuming must be protected from Canadian Invasions. Of course once it’s out that terrorists are coming in from the south, they’ll change plans and come from the North via Canada from whatever Middle Eastern country wants to harm us.

Justin Trudeau, prime minister of Canada is too immature to run a country if he doesn’t understand the need for security at all USA borders. Canada is ripe for terrorist passageway into the USA. Trudeau gives comfort to the enemy by mocking our president’s concern for security, as if it’s all a big insult to Canadians. If Canada is our friend, then they will increase security at their own borders to keep terrorists from entering the USA.

When I look out over the landscape toward the lake, there are cell towers everywhere – not only disorienting people, but disrupting electronics too. In this building the electrical garage door is always on the fritz. The main door that has a swipe keypass, same thing. The elevator, same thing. The repair people can’t any of them to stay in good working order. What’s with that?

Whatever programs the synchronizing of traffic lights often gets interrupted at main intersections. They go haywire, putting everybody at those intersections at risk for bodily harm from traffic accidents. Entire blocks lose access to power. Sometimes just individual stores. Except for a small segment of Gold Coast inhabitants who are rich, most of the area is mostly poor, which means most of the area is being exposed to high levels of dangerous frequencies that harm the nervous system, because they’re are so many cell towers everywhere poor people rent apartments. They’re not curing anything, that’s for sure.

WiFi (wireless networking technology) is the next big causal link to neurological diseases and disorders. It uses radio waves (radio frequency technology) emitted from cell towers to wirelessly connect the world via internet devices. I don’t have to predict it, I’m experiencing it.

AT&T is in our building. So is Spectrum Cable aka Time Warner. That means the NSA (National Security Agency) is using this location as a spy depot. Internet issues run rampant in this building. Cable T.V., same thing. Different species but still the ‘same animal’ type scenario. With the AT&T and Spectrum merger everybody gets the spy treatment on all of their devices plus the most vulnerable in society foot the bill for everybody else in the high risk to health environment where the cell towers live.

They’re monsters.






 

HIT HURRICANE HARVEY

It’s going to take the military to move that hurricane elsewhere, whereby it can dissipate.

Hope you all war-gamed that eventuality at some point in the past.

Update the plan and proceed with confidence.

Update means change, not keep as is.

Break the wind pattern with a force less than the existing force at the hurricane’s strongest point – directed at the eye.

From below the eye. You have the tools. Open your tool box.

Don’t miss your mark.






 

Growing Trend In Cleveland, Ohio – the oxygen bomb

First there was one…then there were two…

Both sitting or standing out in front of Greek restaurants a walking distance apart from each other. Both establishments a walking distance from where I live – both are restaurants that Steve and I frequent.

One old woman, one old man. They’re the bombs. At two Greek restaurants.

Both establishments are on main roads with lots of foot traffic, car, bicycle and bus traffic and store fronts.

What are the odds?

Both the woman and the man probably live on the same blocks as the Greek restaurants they sit in front of or stand in front of to smoke their cigarettes while administering themselves oxygen via a large tank of oxygen and nose catheters. Day after day after day.

They go into their respective restaurants, sit, eat, drink a beverage, talk to the staff, then go outside with their tanks in tow to smoke, where everybody who passes by on foot, in a car, on a bicycle or on a bus sees them – like clockwork. Day after day after day.

Nobody says anything.

One day I went into Walgreens and saw a person who works at one of the restaurants and in front of a cashier spoke briefly about it. He didn’t much care for me to do that since he’s a friend of hers. I’ve seen him hug her, so they must at least know each other. He also was buying a pack of cigarettes and probably thought I was making a statement about her smoking.

Frankly, I don’t care who smokes. It’s legal and it’s not my business. I did bring it up in public though, hoping maybe he’d have a chat with her about her exposing herself as a potential target for a terrorist attack.

What? Jihadists don’t use public transportation? There are no Jihadists in Cleveland or Lakewood or anywhere along those two routes? Clifton Boulevard and Detroit Ave. They drive cars, take buses, ride bicycles and walk. Just like everybody else. In fact they’re just like everybody else, except they have an agenda to blow things and people up when they least expect it.

Often times when the opportunity expresses itself, so do they.

Is this my lucky day or what, says the wanna-be Jihadist? I don’t even have to build a bomb. That feeble woman and feeble man down the street, are my bombs. Imagine what I could do? And they go in and out of the same restaurants. In and out, in and out, all day.

You can’t miss them.

Bingo. Bomb. Bye Bye Birdie – and all the birdies around them.

See something? Say something and it gets ignored with rolling eye balls, making you look like a fool to care?

Then take a picture and publish it.

See something? Take a picture.

OXYGEN BOMB 3






 

Human Trafficking? In A Senior Residence?

HUMAN TRAFFICKING 2

This is too much. A meeting with Joan who has no last name – in a senior residence building about human trafficking? The signs are everywhere. Even in the stairwells.

What’s happening? Are human traffickers trying to recruit and enslave old people? For what pray tell? Do I dare ask? Or maybe that question is best kept to myself.

Are the cops not telling us that certain individual residents are going to be kidnapped from our building and sold into Senior Slavery?

How will they get in? Oh right, by men with kids wearing white knit caps waiting for somebody to let them in.

As an aside: I rarely worry about some scummy looking, dirty, ungroomed person trying to get into the building. It’s the well-groomed, clean ones doing manipulative tricks that concern me.

The flyer|poster has National Church Residences letterhead. So this isn’t a resident working on a pet project or cause that they want to share with other residents for the purpose of their edification.

Joan doesn’t have a last name, so no I’m not going to this meeting. Maybe Joan is the recruiter. The whole arrangement sounds suspicious. Posters in all the stairwells? Who takes the stairs, except me – for exercise instead of using the stairmaster at the club?

Guess I should stay out of the stairwells. Shoot! Just when I was finding my mountain climbing groove, somebody wants to kidnap me?

How about a seminar on weight reduction, exercise and how the food we eat can heal us better than the medicines we take?

Eliza Jennings (Choices For Aging Well), who has a monopoly on the building as far as I can see, won’t like that. They even advertise this place as offering hospice services. When people come in they’re walking on two legs. After six months they get a walker with a seat, then in a year, they’re in a motorized wheelchair and they all get fat. Then they start losing their legs via amputation. It’s a pattern I’ve witnessed for eight years. Then they die. There are a lot of deaths and not many success stories in this building.

There’s a podiatrist across the street that’s gifted in my opinion. Nobody will go to him. They feel like they have to go to Eliza Jennings’ people. Eliza comes to them. The gifted podiatrist is practically next door plus he’s great with all people, not just old. Frankly I met one of Eliza’s people a couple of years ago. He was a podiatrist. Not good. At all. He wouldn’t come out unless I could get three or four other residents to join me so he could sell orthopedic shoes to all of us. He basically wanted me to recruit customers for him – for free.

If they get too many more wheelchairs there are going to be traffic jams that will need to be managed by someone. Oh. Eliza already thought of that. Wheelchair Etiquette is what it will be called. People will be assigned by floors the times they can go down to get their mail.

It’s already clogged with wheelchairs and walkers when the mail person comes. Of course these rules will apply to people not in wheelchairs, just so it doesn’t look like the ones walking without assistance are getting preferential treatment. Then it becomes collective punishment, that they will vehemently deny as they question your compassion for the others who can’t walk. You’ll be shunned by everyone and forced to move to another location where you will learn your lesson to obey and not question the rules.

But Eliza brings pizza. Anybody who wants in, uses cheap unhealthy food to lure residents into attending their seminars. What an insult. Maybe Eliza is behind the human trafficking.

“Lure treats” are always greasy, salty and/or sweet. Beverages are sweet too. With all the diabetics in the building, the soda machine has one sleeve of diet coke. Everything else is laden with sugar. Maybe there’s one diet ginger ale. But no juice, no healthy selection. Who wants apple juice? No one. I’ve talked to the soda machine guy three times already and it went nowhere.

That’s when I take it to the world – when people patronize me because I’m old.

New, exciting, that’s what we want. Taste good too, that’s what we want. Stop with the old stuff, offering me my grandmother’s recipes in your newsletter – loaded with fat, salt and sugar.

Yeah, Eliza Jennings is into human trafficking –  senior residents kidnapped and sold into Senior Slavery. That’s what it feels like.

Independent Living?  If you want to live like your grandmother lived – or your great grandfather. Who really wants that??

Wednesday @ 2:00 in the Large Community Room. I’m assuming that means 07-19-2017.






 

Face Not Familiar Let Him In

RALPH LETTING STRANGER IN BUILDING

Face not familiar? Don’t let them in. That’s what posted signs say at the entrance ways around the building.

That’s easy for the management to say. Ralph used to say something, but doesn’t get involved any more. He doesn’t fear for himself, but for somebody else he declined to mention, which can only mean the safety of his wife.

By lease law we’re not allowed to confront any tenant. It’s grounds for eviction. So, why would old people confront someone whom they don’t really know if they live here or not?

I know the look they give, because people trying to get into the building have given it to me. They get aggressive. Sometimes they come right up on your back like a hustle to intimidate you.

This day while I was taking a photo of something else across the street, I noticed Steve not proceeding to the building. He said that guy is going to go in right after me. He’s just waiting.

Ralph was coming along and Steve said what I knew. Ralph is going to let him in. Sure enough that’s what happened. I took a picture of the guy, then Steve and I went in the building after him.

The guy he was visiting came out and the three of them including the kid left the building. They walked around a column and came out the other side of an alcove so we wouldn’t see them.

I’m trying to figure out why he would even have to go into the building if the guy – around his age (not elderly) – was coming out any way. Why not wait in the car? Why even approach the building?

Every time a person has hustled me to get in they were wearing a knit cap, meaning they want people to know something about them. Whatever the cap means it’s an identifying feature. See me. This is who I am? And they often bring a kid with them to make them look harmless, or to keep others from confronting them. If he has a kid with him, he must be okay.

I don’t know what’s going on in this building, but there are a lot of people who want to get in. Very seldom is it someone who forgot their keys or swipe pass.

See something. Say something? Well, I saw something and I took a picture. Now this guy knows me and knows I have his face on my phone.

The USA government of course wasn’t talking about the safety of seniors when they said ‘see something say something’. They meant say something if you think there is going to be an attack against America.

In my life, in my neighborhood, in my building I take care of my safety and the safety of my family first, because nobody cares about a bunch of seniors who have already lived their lives.

I heard a cop say to one of the managers years ago while walking down the hallway after they were called out because of a disturbance, “Oh, we know what’s going on here, we just don’t want to get involved.”

Seniors built America. We owe them.