Et tu, Cody? Sending messages to your case officer?
No, I'm not claiming to be some high-profile, leftist revolutionary whose exploits should warrant such minutely targeted (and ingeniously conceived) means for scrutiny. Still, with the wide net being cast across global communications these days, it's almost certain someone has picked up on something I've said, written, posted, published, something that's raised an alarm to an extent that's warranted employment of the most advanced undercover tactics yet conceived to further monitor the earth-shatteringly poignant utterances that issue from my cranium--and I'm thinking that dogs are in on this surveillance. My awareness got piqued during something that started innocently enough, when I decided to dig out a stump in a dear friend's back yard and someone literally "let the dogs out." I was staying with this friend at the time and am sure that it was my presence, as well as my ideological orientation, that must have led to what then took place. I'm not even sure who released the dogs, but their behavior during the course of digging started to make me suspicious. Here's what I've been able to gather by way of evidence:
Minding my own business, not even contemplating social revolution. Well, maybe a little bit.
Please don't write off my theory as CT yet, even if I did take a few too many hits of acid in the early 70s. I haven't had a flashback in decades and haven't consumed mind-altering substances in over a decade, at least not without a doctor's consent. As close to a bad trip flashback I've ever had came that time I sat through a whole broadcast of Glenn Beck because the woman I was trying to get close to thought he was some sort of prophet (or profit, I'm not sure which). I know, my morals then leaned toward scandalous, and the dose of Beck almost sent me back to the street to try to cop opiates to mellow things out. Fortunately, the Beck-effect faded, as did my desire for companionship at the cost of brain-drain. Anyway, I guess I'm admitting this in an attempt to say, trust me, no tinfoil bonnet or psychedelic-induced ranting here, and enough skepticism in general to keep me from committing to any formal religion or conspiracy theory (at least since I stopped dropping the Orange Sunshine like Sweet Tarts).
In any case, the pictures kind of tell a story of their own.
Notice Cody leading the others, his offspring, trying to establish trust. Typical government tool behavior?
Pretending to help out--or actually tapping into the family's cable system?
A closer look reveals that, yes, Cody is trying to access an underground cable.
Chickpea and Princess link the now tapped cable directly to the house. I'm oblivious because I "trust" them.
Cody oversees the work of his underlings, and perhaps thinks of the hamburger that might get cooked on that grill sometime later. Steal a patty, perhaps, my duplicitous friend?
The Pièce de résistance, all three send a covert signal to be picked up by drone observers overhead. Is it the letter "I," for Infidel, or "H," for Heretic?
Wherever this insidious type of intrusion is leading it's hard to say. I'm happy to share that eventually I found my own place not long after this incident, a reasonably priced apartment which, unfortunately has a bit of a roach problem. On a less-than-happy note, the roaches at this place have been behaving rather curiously themselves, which is starting to get me wondering...
1:36 PM PT: Thank you Rescue Rangers/Community Spotlight. Keeping this revelation close to the surface might ensure "every dog has his day."