“Sometimes you need to anger people,” says activist


I agree. Research has shown that when you’re reasonable, people tend to nod and agree yet do nothing and then nothing changes and nothing improves. You need to shake them up, kick them out of their comfort zones.

It’s like talking about rainstorms when you’re comfortable in your living room versus actually going out into the rain and experiencing it. The latter brings it home.

Typical of local culture?

Yesterday, as I was walking back from Lidl, a guy in front of me was vomiting every few steps with no consideration for those around him.

I had seen the puddles of vomit, but I had not realised that it had been deposited less than a minute earlier until I was about the pass the guy and he vomited, mostly liquid now, and then vomited again.

When I tried to avoid him by going around parked cars, onto the tarmac, he suddenly decided to cross the road and almost collided with me.

Have I just spoiled your appetite? Welcome to daily life in England.

It was not that different in Southampton. More vomit over there, actually.

Prices are going up, by the way. I found myself buying a packet with two items for £1.25 while I used to get a packet of 6 for £1.09 and better tasting. I am still annoyed. Not very zen-like, fretting over things that cannot be helped.

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The nonsense of social media algorithms

A few days ago, I uploaded 7 seconds of video in which I say “I love coffee”. On a channel that has zero subscribers and as good as no content.

To my astonishment, I just saw that it’s already gotten nearly 500 views.

YouTube clearly recommended it to a lot of viewers.

I wasn’t even in the video, just my French press and my voice. 7 seconds.


When I see how much crap I get fed into my stream all the time, even when I have indicated that I don’t want a certain channel etc. I watch one or two videos on something and all the other content gets pushed away next. Ugh.


Every time you buy a cup of Joe or a package of coffee at your supermarket, you should double what you pay and send the second half to the coffee growers on the other side of the world. So that they can buy and plant the shadow trees that help beat climate change…

How could we do that, in practice, if we all wanted to? That’s what I would like to know. I love that it’s mostly small farms where our coffee comes from and I love the idea of teaming up with farms, maybe rotating on a year by year basis and sending our support directly to the farmers.

For me, it’s mostly self-interest although I also really like that growing coffee is an art and a culture. It must have been so wonderful to work there, when coffee farmers were still doing well. The dedication, the passing on of knowledge. I love that.

Because, see, if we don’t, the world may soon be running out of coffee.

I don’t know about you but I love Colombian coffee.

Of course, we also need to push back climate change. So use a simple French press, folks. Please.

This sounds good. Too soon to say more about it.

Offensive misogyny

What that is?

Imagine women going around always talking about how men think with their penises and frequently reaching between random men’s legs, from behind, putting the squeeze on them, wherever they go.

Then add the idea of publicly shaming men who don’t walk around pushing prams, toddlers in tow, and who don’t bake apple pies on Saturday.

And this, people, this! Enough! Enough already!


But it’s the ignorant boorish people from the south and south east who are the problem. (So there! Nah nah nah nah nah!) As soon as you ignore them, the problem goes away. So… make it go away. Same for the problem with the Essex accents.

Let’s turn the tables, the winds, the tides.

The balances lies in the middle. Equilibrium. Harmony. Prosperity. Happiness. Health.

The attitude towards people from the north was exemplified in a report in 2020 saying Durham University students who came from the local area “felt that they were being discriminated against, people were making fun of them, people were disparaging them”, Ms Hill said.

“This is decades later after I experienced the same thing,” she said.

“I was called a common northerner and I mean – what – this is still happening? This is nuts.”

Source: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-tees-58928506

Suicides in Portsmouth (and what the hell is going on in this town?!!)

Rattled by what I discovered yesterday and remembering that the idea of eugenics did not begin in Nazi Germany but in England. I decided to do an internet search on “suicides in Portsmouth” and I found that in the three years before the pandemic, the suicide rate in Portsmouth has been higher than for its surroundings.

“Portsmouth suicide rate has been higher than regional average in last three years”

“Portsmouth’s suicide rate over the last three years has been higher than across the south east, figures have shown.”

This woman at Portsmouth City Council who tried to get me to commit suicide, she has access to many so-called vulnerable people…

But in England, the outward display of poverty is often mistaken for mental instability, also often called “vulnerability”. Was that what made her decide to target me?

Yesterday’s conversation – see previous post – has really rattled me because I had assumed that she had somehow been fooled into doing what she did, by the person who has been exposing me to sadistic stalking for over a decade and had not quite been aware of what she was doing. But it now looks like she was acting on her own and acted very deliberately.

(This is starting to shed a very different light on my situation. What the hell is really going on in this town?)

I also looked into “chav” culture. Chav stands for “council-housed and violent”. What I came away with is the reminder that the “chav” idea of rejecting everyone who is slightly different is not exclusive to chavs at all. Chavs are merely an out-group, in which people have little power and they do what they can to counter that.

I also saw that in Leigh Park (which is Havant, however), groups of yobs were making the life of a 76-year-old man (and his wife) hell last year, and then – thankfully – 30 people stood up for him to defend him (his home). That they had to, that’s… BONKERS! So was I, perhaps the target of a chilling form of gerontophobia???

I am shaking my head. What on earth did I land in when I left Amsterdam and moved to Hampshire, England?

To add a more positive note, another woman who works at the same facility as the woman who tried to get me to commit suicide, well, I had misjudged her as being very much into the class thing, in a negative way. But I’ve recently discovered that she’s not and that she is not only very good at her job, she enjoys it. She has no idea how precious that is and how glad I was to make that discovery. I love being wrong about negative things.

22 October: my old computer is now also suddenly out of order, but this post may not be up to date on my phone. I had contacted the local authorities (Dr. H.A.) and she has replied. I have meanwhile explained what happened. The local authorities can look into what is going on, if needed, while there’s absolutely nothing that I can do.

To H.A.: “straight down to” was what she said and in combination with something else that she said, you can end up at the culmination of a bridge.

I also wrote to The Guardian this morning, not about this, but about my experiences since I moved to Portsmouth.

The (local) woman who tried to get me to commit suicide a few years ago

I have spoken with her and asked her why she did that.

Her response:

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t know you.”

(to which I replied that I wore different glasses back then)

and then

“I don’t remember.”

She’s employed by Portsmouth City Council. I had never had any negative interactions with her, had barely interacted with her at all. So why on earth…?

So today I decided to ask. Because of something a friend said last week.

20 October 2021: The incident – she trying to get me to commit suicide – happened in March 2018. From a staircase, I later took a photo of the woman while she was seated at a desk on a lower floor. I also asked one of her colleagues for her name but that colleague very appropriately told me that they didn’t give out colleagues’ names.

(But these people do have access to the names of everyone who accesses those facilities. I don’t know if that plays a role, though, because they already know what the financial situation is of people who have to use these facilities.)

More than twelve years…

Of being utterly stuck in Portsmouth and everyone here is fine with it because apparently my life is not worth living, according to the local English.

I am so sick of not being allowed to breathe. Of being trapped in my tiny lab rabbit’s cage, filling my time with watching YouTube videos, reading library books and the perpetual hunt for food. So so so fed up with this.

The lockdowns made it bearable, because the lockdowns were for everyone and made everyone much friendlier, strangely enough.

And it all brought some excitement into my horribly restricted Pompey non-life, plus access to so many online meetings at American top universities.

I even attended a meeting with Hank Greely.

The pandemic made that all possible. Now it’s disappearing again.

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Hidden remote files and other mischief?

My old computer started giving what was likely hacker- induced errors again (or not, after inspection). Accessing the disk just made me stumble upon remote files that contain crime statistics on stalking in England and Wales. And I’m pretty damn sure that I have never seen them before. (But it’s possible that my computer collapsed right after I downloaded these files in June 2020 and that that’s the reason why I never looked at them. I got my newer computer in June or July of 2020, the one that is totally out of order at the moment.)

Age groups 16 to 59 and 60 to 74, relationship to victim, ethnicity, education, occupation, employment status etc.

It looks like the numbers went down big time at the start of 2010 and then started climbing again.

But here’s the thing. I know for a fact that I am not part of these stats. So what do these numbers mean?

Then I got an invitation from Amazon for a video job interview this afternoon, only to log in and find that NO APPOINTMENTS ARE AVAILABLE.

Oh yeah

I want my life back. And I am going to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on!

For anyone who does not know that, I have been stuck in a bizarre largely digital sadistic slavery situation for over a decade. Been everywhere to ask for help. (I am a migrant.) Most people shrug. Those who may care aren’t able to help.

But for me, unless I keep managing to smile about it off and on, I won’t be able to survive.

Calling the Marissa Salas who knows Tim Cross

I think it’s merely hacker interference but “Tim” just wrote to me that his fridge is broken and that he is trying to hook up his fridge to the water supply.

If it’s genuine – which I doubt in view of the horrendous hacker interference I have been subjected to since moving to Portsmouth – then Tim is badly losing the plot and someone should go check on him.

I am not able to call him and even if I could, there likely wouldn’t be anything I could do as I am on the other side of the world.

Here we go again (hacker interfering with my online access)

Am uploading an article to Indy100 and my hacker blocks it again and my immediate downstairs neighbour moans loudly and disappointed when I realise what’s happened. This has been my life for over a decade now.

So then I submitted in a different browser but I don’t think it matters as I am on someone else’s VPN. He can block and change whatever he wishes.

But maybe I am wrong and maybe this is the one time that my digital experiences are not due to hacker interference.

Because once again, what I wrote has disappeared again. Poof, into thin air.

I click on my own profile’s link and it says:

404 page not found


(But of course, it is also possible that this is merely another smoke and mirrors game to make me look “crazy” should the article suddenly appear online after all.)

This is what I wrote for Indy100:

Continue reading

Someone losing the plot?

An American colleague is emailing me – in an English accent – and says that he emailed me in 2010 and asked me to meet him and his wife in London back then. Hahahaha.

But he is a bit older so maybe it’s that, but more likely it’s the Martinis talking. 🥳

He and his wife were in London in 2010 and I called them at the hotel and he was not pleased that I rang. Never asked me to meet them there and he knew that it wasn’t possible for me to travel to London at the time.

He’d asked me could I meet them upon arrival and drive them into and around in London so that they wouldn’t have to take the bus etc. Such an odd request, I thought.

So maybe that was spoofed too.

But he also just wrote to me that he was trying to hook up the fridge to the water supply?!! That he had found the fridge out of order when he returned from a visit to his stepdaughter in DC?

Why nothing in England ever improves

Because of the class thing. The obedience thing. The pressure to be a good 19th-century subject.

Because people disagree while making it appear that they agree. It’s disrespectful and deceptive. This also means that there’s never a aha wake-up moment after which action is taken.

The English are way too deeply into waffling, the kind of talk that never accomplishes anything other than making others immensely frustrated.

I’ve tried the softly softly so-called “polite” approach for years.

It gets you abused, dismissed and pushed out of sight.

The fact that English people are so easily so terribly offended used to freak me out. I had never encountered anything like it before other than with mentally ill people.

I discovered that flattering English people by complimenting them with their hat or their shoes gets you smiles and apologising non-stop stops them from being perpetually offended.

But that indicates that they are not mentally well!

And me bowing to those bizarre English whims to avoid offending the English merely set me up for abuse.

I discovered that no matter what I wear or say or do, English people – generally speaking, of course, because not everyone here is completely off their rocker, thankfully – are always offended. They seem to feel that everybody and their brothers and sisters and cousins and friends has wronged them.

I used to think that being offended by your mere existence was a thing of the older generation. But it isn’t. The youngest generations may be into this even more. Holy mackerel.

There is a larger divide there, though. In my limited experience, the “very old” tend to use plain common sense, are very practical and are not so hostile and nonsensical. There is a big group in between that is generally bitter (hostile) and not interested in anyone else but themselves (other than for the sake of their image). The youngest generation are sort of 50/50 divided. So the biggest potential for positive change rests with the youngest.

(Including children, of course, though I am not really thinking of children when I say “youngest generation”.)

No wonder (some) autistic people target me like crazy in Portsmouth and cling to me like I am their only life support, their only ray of sunshine and become so angry when that ray of sunshine starts dying too.