It’s Sunday morning and the block coordinator and her cohort are living it up outside, laughing and talking loudly in an attempt to make me think that they’re looking at pictures of me. This kind of tactic is pervasive in the mobbing, this attempt to shame someone they have failed to compel from her home. It’s also a tactic of the far-right—attempting to shame and defame their “enemies” into silence. It makes me wonder how many people she bullied in her work with the City of Albany and whatever happened to make her such a hateful person.
If you find yourself in the same situation as me, I hope you recognize that they probably are not looking at any pictures, at least not of you in a private space. That’s because they know—perhaps by way of unethical police, attorneys, or the kinds of wannabes who are attracted to “watch” activities—that while they could be prosecuted for having recordings of you in the areas of your house in which each one of us is entitled to reasonable privacy, trying to convince their victims that they do have such recordings is civil harassment that they can deny. If you report it, they will likely lie—this is a bullying situation, after all—and say that you are “paranoid” or “delusional.” They might also seize upon your reports to claim that you are harassing them.
(An alternate title for this writing could have been: “Witch burnings in Albany, California,” but I don’t recall whether the Salem burnings were used to justify stealing women’s assets.)
In my case, they seem to be exceedingly desperate. In the past few months, I started to use contact microphones (Zeppelin’s Cortado microphones) on structural elements in the house, recording with an XLR-only recorder that is not quite as easy for them to evade. I’ve also taken steps to install power quality monitoring, with logging, after the electrical service drop where tampering is more likely to escape PG&E notice. The Albany block coordinator and her sundry haters, the contractor, investors, and the brigade of apparent religious-right fanatics who walk dogs or baby carriages past the house with religious talk radio blaring or crying “Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!” into their phones—they’re unhappy. Their panties are in a twist.
Given the cultural landscape, it’s no wonder that this morning I woke to one of the neighbors’ (neighbors… mobbers… investors… who can tell?) voices broadcast into my bedroom: “And I’ve been training her for months!” This followed by the chorus of them complaining to each other about how I dare lay in bed with the covers thrown off. (OMG!) The velvet blackout drapes I got to make it harder for their LED lights to penetrate the room hung over the windows. The windows were swung open wide to ensure they could not be easily used to land pressure waves that would vibrate as sound into the room. And then there was the return to a longstanding theme in the ritual abuse (Smart meters, carrier current transmission, and the mobbers’ radio (part 1) and Your TV doesn’t have to be smart to be hacked (part 2)).
“She’s a bot!”
“We don’t like her a lot!”
“We radiated your head!”
“Soon you’ll be dead!”
