I’ve been in Seattle for a couple of weeks, tending the house and working remotely, as one does during pandemic, plague and pestilence. As in the Albany house, with the electricity mostly off, the mobbers have resorted to shunting toxic clouds of what could easily be the product of the dirty WiFi hotspot from a generator, or perhaps the EMF-laden byproduct of the air-conditioner cleaner of the not-so-noble home owner to my north, or even the exhaust vent that was moved to squarely target the half-light of my kitchen side door by the south mobbing house owner years back. Though my head hurts tonight after a day of trying to work inside while clouds of some kind of matter seeped into the house in cycles, with the electricity mostly off I’ve observed that the path of a significant portion of the airborne debris starts from the other side of the hedge, at least in the yard of the not-so-noble home owner to the north, and builds and drifts towards and around the exterior walls of the house, building under the deck and along the brick walkway. I can impede its travel by dampening the deck and the crawl space beneath it with water or interrupt the air currents by opening or clothing different doors and windows. But today the sedan of the not-so-noble owner of the north mobbing house has been parked on the street, I can hear his air-conditioner’s incessant running, and the gassing has been persistent–late in the day laden with the stench of propane. In Albany in past weeks there was the smell of VOCs probably set up to drift over from the lowlife lot when I was outside in the yard, and at dawn one morning the bedroom appeared to have filled with the stench. With what may be obvious exhaust and VOCs venting into my environment, even during sleep, the mobbers appear to be openly trying to terrorize me into acquiescing to extortion.
When I open a sound stream on the television or the computer, or when I call voicemail to check for messages, the mobbing harassment remains. Even after dampening with water or shutting down the main circuit breaker at the panel, over time whatever toxic substrate they use to infiltrate my environment appears to support harassing communications. Here in Seattle where I rent, I continue to use a smart meter though it may be that the greatest vulnerability in having a smart meter is the increased radio frequency close to household electrical wiring and the propensity of smart meters to interfere even with other smart meters. Another vulnerability might come from EMFs or magnetism, allowing radio frequency through the meter and onto household circuits. It makes me think about how an electrician told me that a friend of his who complained about “waves” learned that the old-fashioned metal-sheathed electric cabling was a vulnerability. Between hotspots that might be generated with dirty electricity or whose travel might be influenced by WiFi extender, carefully positioned magnetic forces or charging across household circuits, based on observation it seems the toxic clouds are shaped and directed around and into my home. Based on this exposure, given a suspicious death and a victim of at-home harassment, I would not be surprised if an autopsy turned up an unusually high volume of particulate or matter associated with the EMF-laden product of a generator or air-conditioner in the victim’s lungs.
In the past I noted the Samsung refrigerator in Airtool captures and talked a bit about the hotspots and IoT represented by smart appliances. The refrigerator had the vendor OUI SAMJIN, which I was able to look up pretty easily. But for some reason, when in Netspot surveys containing [range] Samsung, it did not occur to me that it might not be a phone operating from a longer range position but a smart stove. It wasn’t until I noted a reference to [refrigerator] Samsung in Netspot that I considered that in criminal harassment with strong IoT features like mobbing, using a low-current connection over WiFi extender to establish a hotspot on a neighbor’s dumb stovetop might be a useful way to generate and perhaps even to channel noxious material through a stove in the same way that IoT management software might enable the establishment of a dirty electricity hotspot on a neighbor’s dumb refrigerator. At this house, it’s increasingly clear that exhaust is being channeled through and by both these appliances and the effort made even after I turn off the power. At times what smells like exhaust or some kind of powder seems to leave a film even on my skin. As we move to end the crime of mobbing, it’s likely that collecting and analyzing samples from the mobbing victim’s environment would be invaluable.
Over the last months, I also began to suspect that water lines are involved, something that makes some sense since they can be used as grounds for electricity and water is another current that can carry sound. Being mobbed while showering or otherwise running water is one reason why I began to think about it, and as I observed the uptick in harassment with the water heater on, I began to wonder what the effect was of focusing a hotspot on an appliance that transports a current like water. But these suspicions started back when I tried sleeping in the basement of this small Seattle house, one morning too dizzy to raise my head hours after waking to a cloud of matter refracting the early morning light. During that time when the Crossfit tattooed pal of the south mobbing house owner was regularly at the house, the early morning harassment was preceded by lengthy showers next door–audible even in my home by virtue of WiFi repeater and microphone, no doubt–on more than one occasion. This bathroom was at the rear of the house and opposite an infrequently used bathroom in my own. It was the unpaved walkway between that house and this one that laughing friends of the south mobbing house owner dug up, talking about installing a sump pump around the onset of the mobbing. During the years of mobbing, I learned that the sewer line of the south mobbing house connects to mine before it reaches the street. For these and a few other reasons, I now think it likely that some kind of exhaust is being channeled through dry drainage pipes, both here in Seattle and at the Albany house. Good candidates might include old broken water lines bypassed in earlier repairs, particularly if they can be accessed near the perimeter of the victim lot, drainage channels for rainfall, and drain lines for sprinkler systems in the yard, again, especially if they run close to the property line. The more gradual the distribution, the less likely the mobbing victim will understand the source or trigger of the ingress. But once you shut down the power, even the dirty electricity that creates a WiFi hotspot is not well conducted into your home, onto your circuits and over your power supplies. And just because you’re not using a drain line doesn’t mean that someone else isn’t.
These last nights, there’s been a man walking down the hill to Seattle’s Burke-Gilman bike trail and then back up again, conservative talk radio blaring from some handheld device. It reminds me of the “I HATE LIBERALS” bumpersticker I noted on the back of an SUV close to one of Seattle’s old steel bridges by the University of Washington campus some years back. “Science is real!” he yells out as he passes by the house, mimicking the words of the “We believe” poster in my yard or another nearby. “Science is real!” he yells again as he climbs back up. “Black Lives Matter!” on the way down. “What a neighborhood,” observed a departing guest from a nearby house built by an aged man from a conservative state from which vehicles periodically showed up at one of the mobbing houses. It was that builder I was told some years back before the mobbing began, who said there were “ways to get me out” of my home.
The departing guest continued to remark on the neighborhood as she made her way to her vehicle, her description ending with a reference to “a murder of crows.” Outside again tonight, I stood close to the street weeding the rockery. “Science is real!” said the town crier on his approach. My eyes remained on the garden. “Science is real!” he cried once more, the radio blaring right-wing talk. I plucked volunteers from the sandy soil. “I’m a scientist. I know,” he yelled back over his shoulder. Finally he flung a one-word slur back over his shoulder: “Leftist!”
