I wanted to go to the funeral but couldn’t steel myself to go. I even felt guilty for not going but this guilt I felt was minuscule considering I was convinced the entire funeral was a lie. So what was I convinced of? THE PASTOR WASN’T DEAD.
DEMOCRATS WITHIN THE FBI WERE ASKING HIM
QUESTIONS ABOUT ME AND HE HAD TO DO WHAT HE HAD
TO DO TO PROTECT THE UNRULY OFFICERS OF THE LAW.
EVEN IF THAT MEANT FAKING HIS OWN DEATH.
My younger brother of course went to the funeral and I was not at all surprised to learn that it was not an open casket funeral. Obviously it would be hard for Pastor Frank to lie in that thing for hours without anyone noticing a small vibration within a nose hair or a small rising of the tummy when he needed oxygen.
So what deep dark secrets did Pastor Frank know that it was in everyone’s best interest for him to fake his death?
The answer of course is simple.
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Reason #1. Pastor Frank knew that the police I dealt with in life utterly failed to follow civil protocols.
Reason#2. Pastor Frank was one of very few people that knew the “Dangerous Rogue” conspiracy silenced by the Republicans was very, very, super real. (The depth of this conspiracy is mentioned in a book titled “Unpublished” (A Secret Spyder Verse))
GEORGE NEVER DIED EITHER
NOVEMBER 8th, 2022 was a very big day for me starting a new well paying job but it was also the day George “allegedly”
died in apartment #5. But was George even his real name?
Evidently not because LNP news wrote up his obituary giving him the name “David”.
I still to this day have the newspaper article of his alleged death but there’s no doubt in my mind that West Lampeter Township offered him and Shirley a substantial amount of money to fake his own death and relocate. So was he George or David? This part I obviously don’t know as for many years as a neighbor I was always under the assumption that his name was George which I assume may have been a nickname just as I insist my dispatchers refer to me as “Bob”.
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So what did George know that West Lampeter would offer him an exorbitant amount of money to relocate? The answer to this is of course once again quite simple. George had TMI (Too much information).
I never had any problems with George in the years I lived here and his constant motor mouth was definitely therapeutic for my tinnitus so it saddened me deeply that he would accept the hush money and fake his own death so he could relocate. So what kind of juicy information did George know?
ALL OF IT
The one thing George might not have figured out is the privacy sucks where I live and I can hear even the softest of conversations right through these walls! That’s right ladies and gentlemen. Because George was self employed you can basically say he and his girl Shirley literally held down the fort. Any, and I mean ANY, hometown gossip had absolutely ZERO chance of slipping past George!
Even though George was my neighbor for years my social disorder got the best of me and I could never steel myself to hold a conversation with him with hopes he would give up the name of the dirty Cop that screws with me. Over the years I 33
heard enough chatter through these walls to know George was AN EXTREMELY HUGE ASSET to assist me with catching red handed the dirty cop that makes my life a living hell!
I even remember hearing George right through the walls and what his verbatim words were. “Then he must be a dirty cop!”
And lastly……what happened to Pop Pop’s friend “Bob”? Bob the retired mechanic?
My Pop Pop is in his nineties and will probably live past 100. I was saddened to learn one day that Pop Pop had informed me his friend “Bob” that would visit the old folks home to check up on him had passed away but I still have trouble believing it.
Because Bob was a good friend of Pop Pop’s I knew that he had witnessed a lot of “weirdness” within my immediate family members and also like the Pastor had some good insight about the “Dangerous Rogue” conspiracy.
The “DANGEROUS ROGUE” conspiracy is so twisted and enigmatic that a lawyer named Wendy I once talked to had to do a deep google search to find a twin that looked exactly like my Sister-in-law. And what a fine job she did! My Sister in Law does in fact have a Look-alike that is in no way shape or form related. Because I am a team player it wasn’t difficult for me to 34
go along with the ploy when secretly I knew the introduction was nothing more than a huge cover up orchestrated by Wendy. Wendy, the very attorney assigned to handle my name change case just to steal my money and ghost me!
Chapter 11 (October 11th,2023)
I kept my end of the deal by being at the truck on Monday October 9th at 9am but I had no load assignment despite my hometime expiring 10/09/2023 at 9am. In fact for that entire day my company had no work for me at all but I won’t be surprised if they skip my layover pay in which I should be entitled to.
The next day Tuesday my boss Mike calls well into the afternoon with a load that picks up two hours away at 7am the next day. I immediately drop what I’m doing and Uber out a few miles to the big rig knowing that even though I could technically leave at 4am the next day it’s too risky to hope to catch an Uber that early so I’ll have to hurry up now drive up close to consignee and squeeze my ten hour break in to have hours the next day.
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Everything seems to be going to plan as I find a truck stop just 40 miles from the consignee and even have time for a Whopper sandwich before they close. Because we sit all day as truckers it is often for me to look for a high table so I can stand while I eat. Sometimes I’m in luck but often I’m forced to sit on my ass that already gets sit on 11 hours a day.
As I bite into my Whopper I can sense something to my right of me just DOESN’T feel right. The woman. The beautiful woman with the blond hair that’s too over dressed for a truck stop out in the middle of the mountains.
I want to stare back at the woman staring intently at me but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that I caught her red handed trying to read my thoughts out loud. Instead I keep my gaze straight as I bite into my sandwich but I am duly noting that she sticks out like a sore thumb. No kids with her.
No hubby. Why is she all by herself? Is she a secret journalist?
It’s now Wednesday morning of October 11th, 2023 and it’s 5am. I realize if I want breakfast I have a BIG problem because the BK at the truck stop doesn’t open until 6am and I have to drive 40 miles up I-81 for a 7am delivery. I can still hear my boss’s last words reverberating in the back of my mind.
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Well Blake one thing I know about you is your usually on time.
I realize I can eat breakfast in two minutes and the drive will only take me 40 minutes but I really can’t risk them taking all day making my breakfast once they finally open up at 6am so I opt to skip breakfast and take off at 5:45am which will give me a nice cushion of thirty minutes should traffic ironically be slow that early in the morning.
My employer screws me any way they can but I’m smart enough to know at this age of my life pretty much ALL
EMPLOYERS are going to take advantage of me until I figure out how to make babies so there is no use quitting my job at this point.
As I approach I-81 Northbound exit 104 I see the onramp is blockaded by a work truck with a big Road Closed sign. I look all around for detour signs but there are none and I of course realize this is in fact illegal in the state of PA that mandates detour signs for major highways.
I realize I have to improvise so I come up with a brilliant solution.
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Why not go southbound for just a few miles and turn around at exit 100 to head Northbound as obviously only the ramp itself is closed traffic is still moving northbound That’s just what I do along with another trucker that seems just as confused as me. This extra few miles will only add 8
minutes tops to my trip and I will now be 22 minutes early for my 7am appointment nuthn to worry about here.
As I exit at exit 100 I can’t wait to get on the Northbound ramp but to my dismay yet another work truck is blocking that entrance as well! Now I have no choice but to cross my fingers and hope my trucker GPS can locate an adjacent road to get me heading Northbound!
Sure enough my trucker GPS puts me on 125 but ironically brings me back to the Northbound entrance at exit 100!
Why? Why do they have not one but TWO northbound exits closed?
I can’t risk blindly taking random back roads because I have zero trust with my GPS as the last time I tried to detour I-81
my Rand Mcnally allegedly fool proof GPS tried to take me 38
under a low bridge. I realize I have no other choice at this point but to cross my fingers and go southbound on I-81 far enough to a third exit and hope that one isn’t closed as well. I send a message via Qualcomm what’s happening to my employer and letting them know I’m going to be late with hopes it doesn’t affect my detention pay.
I drive my big rig southbound on I-81 down to exit 92 where I can finally enter a northbound entrance and head north on I-81. My GPS now says that I’m going to be an hour late but I giggle to myself realizing that I was in a hairsbreadth of being TWO hours late had I listened to the kid dictating the ramp closure on exit 104 advising to try a side road and entering onramp at exit 107 after reading a sign that the one lane road closure ran from exit 104 to exit 112!
I put the pieces together in my mind as I remembered the shady overqualified woman checking me out at the truck stop.
She obviously was behind this rat trap aimed at me to purposely make me late on a load I knew would take hours loading because it was electronics! Company policy is if you’re late for a load not only do they not have to pay you detention pay but will take all day loading you as they now have to
“work you in”.
Because I opted to go all the way down to exit 92 I obviously 39
would be foolish to exit I-81 for a potty break as I now knew NB exits 100 and 104 were blockaded and most likely NB exit 107 as well. But we’re they?
I shouted obscenities to myself as I passed northbound exit 100 which was now open as I could hear those pigheaded republicans thoughts out loud.
Ok he’s gone now we can open the entrance now. Too bad we couldn’t sucker him to trying for exit 107 so he could get again drive down to exit 92 and be two hours late"
I knew I had to work around this republican ignorance that was never going to end? So why me? Why am I a primary target to the republicans? Am I the next John F Kennedy?
Maybe.
I still remember the quizzical look on my mother’s face when she asked why I believed the cops woke up every morning asking themselves
how can I ruffel Blakey’s feathers this morning?
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"Why Blake? Why do you think the cops have such an interest in you? Don’t you realize how crazy you sound?
"I’m NOT crazy mom! These piggys still have a vested interest in Dr. Sheldon Oscar Burman’s finest work (the bird doctor).
You must believe me mommy these people are sick! I even caught a police captain trying to follow me into the locker room at the gym. This town of Lancaster PA is full of what I call Winky conniseurs!
Mother of course just chuckled.
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“So the out-of-order signs and flags get lowered when you come around and now the road closure signs?”
I sullenly nodded my head.
Winky conniseurs, the entire government was full of winky conniseurs
Chapter 12 (The Scratch Off Lotto Conspiracy) I didn’t become a gambler until the year 2013 at the age of 32.
My Green eyed monster brother of course introduced casinos to me because I was in that year part of what’s known to the Social Security office as a TWP or “Trial Work Period” for a grade three shoulder separation from a motorcycle accident that wasn’t my fault. I had swerved for two dogs without leashes playing in the street and the moment I wrecked the owner came out with leashes, leashed the dogs then left me for dead in the street.
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I was a nobody so no lawsuit ever ensued but I did have some luck taking my parole officer’s advice and going on disability.
Once I was able to work the government allows you to collect monthly checks for another 9 months while they make a decision to axe you. Needless to say my brother got jealous of these monthly checks so he opted to counter by introducing me to gambling.
I clearly remember chuckling while reading in the newspaper one day how LNP news praised my brother’s police captain for taking “veterans” out to Las Vegas. I don’t have three kids and a wife that comes from a family of millionaires trying to peck away at my wallet so I completely understand my little brother’s jealousy concerning my good times for cocoa cocoa puffs for the next 9 months.
To put it bluntly….PEOPLE THAT DONT KNOW ME DONT LIKE
ME BECAUSE OF THESE THREE HARDSHIPS I WILL NEVER
HAVE TO FACE IN LIFE
DIVORCE ALIMONY CHILD SUPPORT
So what do these green eyed monsters do? They scratch off lotto tickets. Do they take these scratchers out to their car to scratch them? HELL NO!!
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I can’t think of how many times I’m out in public and complete strangers freaked out by my alleged mental illness try to stifle my piggy bank by intentionally scratching scratch off tickets right in front of me! These green eyed monsters that do this look COMPLETELY OUT OF KILTER and that’s how I know it’s a government orchestrated conspiracy plotted against me!
Make no mistake. THESE PEOPLE ARE NOT GAMBLERS AND
WISH ME FINANCIAL HARM!
It would not surprise me in the least if the Republicans orchestrated this scratch off conspiracy and I’m willing to bet the moment I leave the store these “Non-Gamblers” get a full refund for all their losing tickets. And so I ask you this question right now as you read this…. Are you in the mood for popcorn?
I am going to surmise you are not munching on popcorn but I urge you to try this experiment. Get yourself some scrumptious yummy theatre popcorn that wafts warm butter from far away and enter a small room crowded with people.
As you munch on it ask the people in the room if their desire for popcorn went up the moment you entered the room!
With that being said I ask you this one simple question…why are educated people with all their teeth purposely scratching scratchers in front me???? Is this to evoke a relapse???
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CHAPTER 13 (Wrong and Strong)
They say people will always forget what you say but remember what you do. I want to declare this as only
“partially true”. I say this because I can still speak verbatim words that people spoke decades ago. Like Robert Blake looking at Deborah Walters telling her he wants to “Play cowboy with the girls” or the time Trump once stated he “kind of likes the ones that don’t get caught”. I even remember quitting church choir as a teenager and my girlfriend’s mother upset by it stating “well if that’s the direction you want to go in life”. So ummmmm…. yeah I even can quote a lot of Beavis and Butthead.
I don’t know who the band director is at Lampeter school but I will always recognize his voice as it wakes up the whole 45
neighborhood. I know he has seen me plenty of times but unfortunately I have never gotten the opportunity to see his face to match the voice with. I don’t like the way he yells at those band girls and I think their excessively long practice time in the 100 degree sun is flat out inhumane. I like the band don’t get me wrong but I often feel sorry for the girls in the band sacrificing their entire summer and not get nearly the amount of attention the football players get whose practices are half as long.
But I want to tell you a story…. I don’t know what the band director guy looks like. In fact never even once had a conversation with him. But does that mean he knows absolutely nothing about me? Of course not!
I don’t recall what summer it was but I clearly remember unloading groceries from my car while having to hear the band director’s loud mouth over the microphone as he rehearsed the teenage girls. This hot summer day would be a lot different from the others because today I got the opportunity to hear some back talk from one of the band girls that I had highly encouraged all along.
Just as I handled a large brown bag of groceries I could hear big mouth on the high riser patiently waiting and timing it just right so that I could hear him.
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“Okay this next one is titled wrong and Strong”
I immediately felt his ignorance shoot across the green pasture that separated us but before I could seeth on it any longer a band girl rushed to my defense.
“Okay we see what your doing here…”
Unfortunately she obviously didn’t have a microphone so I couldn’t make out the rest but as I grabbed my gym bag along with a last bag of groceries I giggled to myself.
Yeah, you’re wrong and I’m strong I thought to myself.
When does it end? When am I going to no longer be a person of interest to these winky conniseurs?
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Chapter 14 Boogie Man vs Monster Even though I was about 70 miles away I could still hear the engine of the plane firing up getting ready for take off. I could still hear the eerie ambience of the passengers sending off their last “I love you texts” before switching into airplane mode.
I wasn’t on the plane. Too many years of experience I had to trust my gut this time. Zachary. A recruiter named Zachary had intentions of turning my bad situation into a complete
“Dire” situation. If he bothered to check his records then he of course had no right for being mad with me for not boarding the plane.
I could still hear our previous phone conversation reverberate in the back of my mind. Piece of paper and something in print I had said. Even a text would suffice because I could screen shot it and then find a way to print it. OTR trucking recruiters did in fact have college credentials and knew exactly how the game was played. Phone calls were basically “free for alls” and I was stuck living in a state that still mandated a two party consent.
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As I sit here in my recliner this Sunday morning of 03/03/2024 I can’t help but wonder if my seat in the plane remained empty or catered to a last minute sale. Deep down in my gut I knew that even though we delayed my start date to 03/11/2024 so the company could amend my payment contract it wasn’t going to happen. They were bleeding me was what they were doing. I could only hope that they bled a little too and couldn’t get a refund on the plane ticket.
They always get it back. They always get it back Blakey I thought to myself. Even if they lost $200 for the plane ticket the company would find a way to steal it back if I went to work for them. The debt wouldn’t go away. Most likely they would be sneaky about it and bilk me on my milage pay little by little until they got it back knowing that I would be too busy trucking to watch every dime.
All OTR trucking companies steal from their drivers. Every Over The Road trucker knows that so the goal was to find a trucking company that only steals “a little”. Western Express was always known for stealing the most. Even though Western Express had a history of stealing the most from their drivers, authority figures still liked them because they kept the welfare population down by pretty much hiring anything with a pulse.
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So will my demands be met before my 03/11/2024 next orientation? I’m gonna have to say no. There’s a little bit more to this story as to what’s really going on. These recruiters rush to lure us in like fish but it’s up to us to learn how to swim once we get there. Even though my cellphone battery caught fire yesterday I remember my recruiter accidentally spilling the beans that safety hadn’t yet cleared me yet. THIS
HAPPENS ALL THE TIME. So what caught their attention to hold me up was it my MVR record? No. Every year my DOT
long form gets longer and longer.
My Achilles in my left foot was healing faster than the pinched nerve in my left arm so I decided to try going for a walk today minus the limp. It worked for the most part but I found in order to do it it required me to take breaks in between. This is my first Achilles heel injury so it’s not like anything I’m used to. It seems you can start your day off fine and not notice the Achilles Pain until you’ve taken some decent steps. I am noticing it getting better and better each day so I’m not worried about it especially since the tractor trailers we drive are automatic. So my pinch nerve pain? I’m still terribly concerned. The doctor finally put a referral for an EMG in but since I’m currently unemployed I’m hoping he takes his sweet old time in the event it heals before the EMG test.
On this fine Sunday afternoon I’m mostly brooding about my 50
last employer that put me in this unemployed position.
Church. And I mean that literally. Church. What was Church doing on a Sunday afternoon? Praying that I don’t see them for all the money they stole from me? I doubt it. I was more curious what “the boogie man” of the company was doing this beautiful Sunday. Gene. The vice prez of Church. The last I spoke with him he sounded disgruntled. Unfortunately it’s his own fault for ghosting me. I had asked him a simple question in an email. Whom do I talk to when my dispatchers don’t put in my layover confirmations? No reply. And what’s even worse? I predicted I would get no reply. That’s how boogie men behave.
They tend to have the ability to sneak up on people.
I was convinced the vice prez was trying to get inside my head and that’s what I mostly found amusing. Amusing in the sense that I knew what he was doing would pan out to be a big waste of time as there was nothing in my head to pursue.
People were out to get me all the time. How could I possibly have a plan when I was 24/7 in defense mode?
Despite our phone talks I still remember our face to face conversation after I had gotten in my very first parking lot accident. I don’t feel comfortable making a statement before seeing the video footage can I watch the video footage before I make a statement?
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“No, I need this filled out today.”
I knew every dog lover was secretly rooting for me as it was a Fed Ex truck that my trailer had pinched up against while trying to leave a shipper. Nothing about the accident made any sense and it just so happened on a day that the company was doing some undercover boss shit. That’s right. Richard guy from orientation had just brought me a Arby’s melt sandwich, fries, and a sweet tea right after I had just eaten a high sodium Italian sub and a half jar of onion dip. With blood pressure issues you can bet your bottom dollar I was dizzy as a kite.
Can we blame my mother? Had not my mother raised me to eat all my food? What really happened at AC Legg on 11/15/2023 was I framed????
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CHAPTER 15 (The Greyhound Conspiracy) 04/02/2024
I knew that I was right. Within a minute like always my outgoing email got rejected as “Address not found”. Gmail always does this if an outgoing email is even off by one letter. I knew this upfront from experiences in the past as this experiment bolstered my claim that “Yes the government was out to get me”.
On March 21st just shy of two weeks ago I sent an email to Greyhound support and it got sent back three days later as a typo? Really? Since when did it take Gmail 3 days to to recognize an email address misspelled? In the email contained proof that Greyhound bus service owed me $47 dollars and I was not at all surprised when the email got returned to me claiming I had spelled Greyhound “Grethound” with the “t”
when I was 100% certain I had not mis spelled “Greyhound”. It was ostensibly clear these conspiracies plotted against my communication were NEVER going to end and I had no chances of functioning as a human being.
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March 16,2024 (4:48AM)
I felt a sigh of relief as the Greyhound bus eased into dock#4
as I knew this bus would be taking me from Pittsburgh to Harrisburg PA. I was surprised that the bus left only two minutes of wiggle room as I knew once the passengers got off (and some would stay on) the bus was set for departure at 4:50am. I was feeling nervous before the bus arrived because it seemed each and every time I departed from an OTR
trucking company my public transportation home got “funky”.
The tracker link for this particular bus ride simply said “no data” which left me worried that the bus would not ever show up. I had assumed that perhaps the bus driver had a melt down and quit a hundred miles short and left the passengers stranded. But the bus was here. The bus was here with two minutes to spare.
The moment the already on board passengers exited the bus so we could board I felt a pang of trepidation as I knew something was wrong. Sure the covid-19 masks we’re still popular amongst 1-20 people but I couldn’t help notice that this last bus ride for me had 75% of it’s passengers exiting wearing Covid masks.
Oh here we fucking go again I thought to myself. The trucking company I was leaving because they made it clear they were 54
gonna rob me on my very first load made the call to their transportation buddies and I’m not gonna be able to board this bus
My delusions solidified when I noticed the bus driver was female and she too wore a Covid mask. She gathered her personal belongings and headed straight towards the woman’s bathroom and that was the last we would ever see of her. Because I had driven a truck 60 miles the day before at this point my body had been awake 23 hours and I was hoping to be home in just under 5 hours obviously with the intentions of going straight to sleep. I would shut my phone off knowing that my nosy brother would blow it up with stupid texts or calls. What happened to the job? You trucking? Where’s Uncle b?
I was careful not to give RTI my little brother’s phone number or any family members phone number but the Snoopy women in the company always cheated by getting the number from other companies I had worked for. I was certain this was illegal but it never seemed to stop the trucking industry. It often felt like when it came to sleuthing the nosy office witches in the trucking companies were worse than the CIA.
Each and every trucking company knew upfront my alleged mental illness because all my health info was in my DOT long form. HIPPA simply didn’t exist in the trucking industry.
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An entire hour went by and still no bus driver. I was getting curious how she managed to sneak out of the bathroom unseen and go home. Was there a secret window she hopped out of?
I waited another 30 minutes and sure enough the bus just sat there with no bus driver. I had to get home. I wasn’t Superman and I didn’t like knowing if I passed out and fell asleep the hobos were going to help themselves to my wallet. Even though my bus ticket I had already paid for I knew I was going to have to find an alternative to getting home. A train? Would I be in luck with a train next door?
Amtrak was just around the corner and as I walked up the street while it was still morning dark I was not surprised in the least that a camera man was filming me. The government that spies on our smart phones 24/7 already knew that I had checked the train schedule on my phone. I ignored the camera man and soon found that I was once again having a conversation with myself. Oh it’s like that Mr. Government?
Trying to show off by stopping a bus full of deplorable weirdos that have no clout? I chuckled to myself as I walked towards the train station. Ok Mr. Tough guy Government, let’s see you stop an entire train!
I was sure to let off some smirks as I sat in the Amtrak waiting 56
area waiting for next train to Harrisburg. Deep down I knew the well funded government that spent millions to harass me would have to call off their harrassment show and find a new way to get their rocks off. They wouldn't dare shut down a train full of business men and women that had work appointments and those kinds of things just to screw with me I thought to myself. I was quite certain the Amtrak employees had ALREADY gotten texts from the government advising them to keep a close watch on me as I was now a dangerous rogue trucker in their eyes. A trucker with a set of nuts demanding an accurate paycheck or no work at all! Not only was I demanding an accurate paycheck but I was demanding they stop remotely shutting down my tractor!