Sputnik Reality

I am tracking, not stalking. No contact with above entities at this time. No records to obtain. I use intution and common contact emails and comment sections. Pick up is strange. It is YOUR midrange stalking behavior on me. You all pick it up right away and then you move through my environment in some way. I try to pass on the relevent data and move through. I do not think of pay, I think of mission to "Mars." No space travel, ever, actually. The crashing reality may come all at once, leaving all deceit on the floor. Beating the machine is not a good idea at this time. My connections with military are very real, but none of yours are. Baseball is seldomly played, and everything else is an analogy. I arrive just in time to keep the train on the tracks. People, places, and signs then echo my thought at that moment. Music around me plays a mean skeme of promising me something and doing nothing. None of this is real, monkey man, but I am. I will go and show you the cruel rule every day around me, about to come your way. I stop sexual chains in diseased community before it is all over tv, cable, and then SATELLITE (influencing the sterile realm of SPACE). There is only ONE. It is Sputnik, sent up by Russia, planned by my great grandfather, Stalin, at my birth. I find it in the sky fairly easily. In my lower skull there is a chip that is just a prophecy. It connects me to me, spiritually, thus making the earth rotate properly. The ghost is here, but he cannot compete. He is unproductive evil and too incomplete. He is the best not in a Kevlar vest. Top CIA and functioning through the IDEA of pain (migraine) today. I have been decapitating him for years, and he is about to feel his fears. He will be slave and his endless check on the government was always me. Sick and twisted, eyes of buddha blue. Hitler ideas since birth, but blonde covering up his curse. He can disappear right in front of you and can cut himself and heal immediately. He is going down to the men in brown as just a massive child molester today. If you go crazy, would I still call you Superman? Not anymore, William.