This post says a lot of things; but, what it boils down to is a summation and account of the tyranny and insidious cruelty that are the hallmarks of pure hatred as channeled through one man: Dr. Crapo. This man is an integral part of The Exclusion, which is the Holocaust revisited.
On August 18th, 2015, there will be an update to this story; be sure to check back on that day.
My demons were awfully quiet yesterday—too quiet, in fact. I couldn't have told you what they were up to at any one point, but their uncharacteristic silence, particularly so after having recently announced and actuated a power blockade by and through my continued sobriety, suggested it was something, and that something was going to piss me off big. A call from my doctor's office at about 4:30 pm confirmed that they had indeed been up to something...and, just as I had guessed, that something pissed me off big, indeed.
Why? Believe it or not (I still can't, I really, really can't; but, it's true), demons and their people are seething over the fact that they were handily trumped by my decision to refuse any and all attempts to get me high, an essential part of their tangible presence in this world, at least on a level that allows them to mature their investments in people and resources on this planet.
Without blasting one up my arm, demons are relegated to the same presence that has held them back for centuries, and their people look like the lame ducks they are as they fail to perform their magical assaults by the futile flailing of their arms or the kicking of their legs or what-have-you. In short, everything they do or want to do fizzles (not overnight, mind you; but, eventually). It's not until I "get my tweak on," as these scumbags say, that the magic flows, and the doors of opportunity fly open for all who know how to use of these things to do what they want to do and to make whatever choices they want to make.
Speaking of which, we've all seen what they do and what those choices are, hence my decision to cut them off while it remains in my power to do so. The maneuver is meant to be punitive in nature, the consequences of which reach multiple worlds, species and markets, many who have knowledge of, but otherwise have no participation in the atrocities committed by those I'm referring to; however, their behavior is so aberrant, I have to stop everyone dead in their tracks for now.
Regardless, I obviously need to be able to wield something in this travail of mine, and the most obvious something is my total and complete control over everything demons have going on this world that they started and facilitated using me. I think that might be much. Very much.
Anyway, their bitter-pill response was most recently evidenced by a phone call from the snot-nosed punk of a nurse that works for my doctor yesterday, who gleefully announced that she precluded the refilling of my prescription testosterone—the oft-stated goal of demons and their people. The undertone of the call, and the purpose for its bizarre, inexplicable and otherwise unnecessary pretense, was quite clear, and for the aforestated reasons (the timing, as well as recent events).
This was immediately challenged by my surprise face-to-face confrontation with the nurse at my doctor's office a mere 15 minutes later (I act on demon drama), where she prevaricated and lied as I confronted her about her over-the-phone declaration that I had no options for getting needed medication in the future:
Today, at 10:30 am, I confront the doctor. This post will be updated shortly afterwards.
Doctor swaps it up
I don't know if it has a name, but it's a classic play at VMC—that is, stationing a police officer outside the exam room door, while angering a patient they've beleaguered (and is known to have been beleaguered) by demon drama. They act like they can't comprehend the contradiction of statements you've described, swap the story up so it looks like you're asking for something you were told you could not get (sometimes telling you you're crazy or aren't listening), and then tell you you're yelling, at which point the cop bursts in and carts you away.
They actually do this. A lot. It's a daily thing. I'd vow this to the face of my God, if I thought it would help you believe. And, this, over a prescription of no consequence to anyone, except the patient who might have to die without it. It's the get-down in Santa Clara County. They sold their soul to Satan.
Essentially, what I'm looking forward to—yet again—is a ride on the dickhead, fuckface choo-choo train, like before. Stay tuned.
All aboard!
Here's a video update from today's expected outcome from my visit to Dr. Crapo, who did not once apologize for the confusion, or explain why his notes did not at all reflect what he told me, or justify his brand-new stance on my dosage, which wasn't there before. This idiotic exchange between the two of us lasts about 12 minutes on video, the best part is not until the end, when Dr. Crapo indicates that, because I can prove he's already run the "tests" he wants to run before, he's not going to treat me until I acquire those records (which his office refuses to get themselves).
Didn't make sense? It will when you get there.
Visit with Dr. Crapo: Part 1 of 2
What sounds like the boring but pitiful plight of a lonely man is actually genocide in disguise and at work, captured on video. In conjunction with other videos posted to the blog that connects the pieces of this story together more cogently than any one video could, the situation reveals itself as an indicator of nothing but the aforementioned modern day atrocity, which is known by its perpetrators as The Exclusion.
The second video is a continuation of the first (the videos were broken up so that, in the event that the first video became corrupt somehow—I'm running iOS 9 beta 4—I wouldn't lose the whole conversation); the clencher is that the very end. Bear with the running length (I can't let these people bury themselves down the line unless I let them say as much as they think and feel):
So, there's the drama demons have for me over the power blockade. No small drama at all. It is a hit right between the eyes if there ever was one. How I'm going to handle this one, I cannot say. It is a matter of life and death, and everyone knows it; but, they are making it so my options come down to "either them or me," and that's not an easy one, even if we lived in the Old West.
Bigotry not new to VMC doctors
Dr. Crapo is but one of a handful of doctors who believe that gays with HIV are public health hazards, and should not only suffer unhealthy libidos, but suffer ill health in order to hasten a death he feels they deserve.
Dr. Winslow, the most notorious demon doctor in Santa Clara County, is another such doctor. His degenerate behavior is documented on this blog, and very-telling legal documents describing my wrangling with him can be read online at www.scribd.com/theoknock.
On August 18th, 2015, there will be an update to this story; be sure to check back on that day.
My demons were awfully quiet yesterday—too quiet, in fact. I couldn't have told you what they were up to at any one point, but their uncharacteristic silence, particularly so after having recently announced and actuated a power blockade by and through my continued sobriety, suggested it was something, and that something was going to piss me off big. A call from my doctor's office at about 4:30 pm confirmed that they had indeed been up to something...and, just as I had guessed, that something pissed me off big, indeed.
NOTE | In other words, they weren't buzzing around me all day, as usual; they were at my doctor's office, needling its workers to death to cause problems for me.As stupefying as it may be to hear, not to mention exhausting—especially to readers who have followed the story so far—that something was prescription testosterone-related; specifically, that my doctor would not refill my prescription, and neither would the specialist. The reason: neither one felt it was their job, nor were either willing to fill the role as my healthcare provider in regards to my hormone-related deficiencies.
Why? Believe it or not (I still can't, I really, really can't; but, it's true), demons and their people are seething over the fact that they were handily trumped by my decision to refuse any and all attempts to get me high, an essential part of their tangible presence in this world, at least on a level that allows them to mature their investments in people and resources on this planet.
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| A pretty good promo, albeit mangled by typos... | ...contains news to some people (I thought everyone knew) |
Speaking of which, we've all seen what they do and what those choices are, hence my decision to cut them off while it remains in my power to do so. The maneuver is meant to be punitive in nature, the consequences of which reach multiple worlds, species and markets, many who have knowledge of, but otherwise have no participation in the atrocities committed by those I'm referring to; however, their behavior is so aberrant, I have to stop everyone dead in their tracks for now.
NOTE | How were my choices different from nearly everyone else's? To start, I made my stance against the evil perpetrated by demons and their people as described on this blog clear from the beginning of my knowledge of it, and have maintained that clarity and a distinction ever since. I never acquiesced to, participated in, or encouraged acts of evil against my own people at the hands of demons. I never hid their presence or their motives or their agenda from anyone, ever. Never did I use their resources for their purposes or my own, nor did I fail or refuse to disclose any communications between us or other persons related to the matter of demonic incursion into human territory; nor have I failed to reveal or purposely uncover any and all information I have acquired that might save a life, even while risking my own, and at the certain and evident diminishing of such.It's my call, and my call alone, to make; and, I'm making it. Furthermore, I intend to leverage it at some point, too. To what end, I don't know, as, in the past, all I've done is needle demon people by pulling the rug from under their feet every now and again:
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| Being dismissed in this manner rubbed me the wrong way, so I called up Hell on earth for a couple of years in a row, just to say to people who do this to others (that is, abandon them to the sorry excuse of distance): It's a small world; my problems are your problems |
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| At the point in time when this comment was left, there was no debate as to the authenticity of any one video or the fact that we're all up to our necks in demon drama; but, just to make sure everyone was on the same page as me, I chose to inundate the planet with as much exposure to the reality that is our mutual Hell for a couple of years, so that no one could insult anyone else by feigning ignorance (at least not credibly) |
Anyway, their bitter-pill response was most recently evidenced by a phone call from the snot-nosed punk of a nurse that works for my doctor yesterday, who gleefully announced that she precluded the refilling of my prescription testosterone—the oft-stated goal of demons and their people. The undertone of the call, and the purpose for its bizarre, inexplicable and otherwise unnecessary pretense, was quite clear, and for the aforestated reasons (the timing, as well as recent events).
This was immediately challenged by my surprise face-to-face confrontation with the nurse at my doctor's office a mere 15 minutes later (I act on demon drama), where she prevaricated and lied as I confronted her about her over-the-phone declaration that I had no options for getting needed medication in the future:
Today, at 10:30 am, I confront the doctor. This post will be updated shortly afterwards.
Doctor swaps it up
I don't know if it has a name, but it's a classic play at VMC—that is, stationing a police officer outside the exam room door, while angering a patient they've beleaguered (and is known to have been beleaguered) by demon drama. They act like they can't comprehend the contradiction of statements you've described, swap the story up so it looks like you're asking for something you were told you could not get (sometimes telling you you're crazy or aren't listening), and then tell you you're yelling, at which point the cop bursts in and carts you away.
They actually do this. A lot. It's a daily thing. I'd vow this to the face of my God, if I thought it would help you believe. And, this, over a prescription of no consequence to anyone, except the patient who might have to die without it. It's the get-down in Santa Clara County. They sold their soul to Satan.
NOTE | What do I want you to do about it? Nothing, really; this isn't a rant or a whine post. It's a brag post, and you'll see why in the future. Just kick back and be entertained for now; and, then, keep coming back to eventually be educated on how to handle sleaze like this. I will show you what it looks like when Jesus gets mad [John 2:15].Apparently, today the Devil wasn't in the market for spineless cowards, so the cop just milled about outside the door while I called Dr. Cambido out on her bullshit. Next Tuesday, I have a follow-up appointment with the specialist, Dr. Crapo. I'll be sure to record it, too. He's the same jail doctor that made it nearly impossible for me to get what I needed while there, having cut my dose from 1 mL every four days to 1 mL a month before acknowledging that he was wrong (whereas the five years of doctors before him were right), and after I had lost much.
Essentially, what I'm looking forward to—yet again—is a ride on the dickhead, fuckface choo-choo train, like before. Stay tuned.
All aboard!
Here's a video update from today's expected outcome from my visit to Dr. Crapo, who did not once apologize for the confusion, or explain why his notes did not at all reflect what he told me, or justify his brand-new stance on my dosage, which wasn't there before. This idiotic exchange between the two of us lasts about 12 minutes on video, the best part is not until the end, when Dr. Crapo indicates that, because I can prove he's already run the "tests" he wants to run before, he's not going to treat me until I acquire those records (which his office refuses to get themselves).
Didn't make sense? It will when you get there.
Visit with Dr. Crapo: Part 1 of 2
What sounds like the boring but pitiful plight of a lonely man is actually genocide in disguise and at work, captured on video. In conjunction with other videos posted to the blog that connects the pieces of this story together more cogently than any one video could, the situation reveals itself as an indicator of nothing but the aforementioned modern day atrocity, which is known by its perpetrators as The Exclusion.
The second video is a continuation of the first (the videos were broken up so that, in the event that the first video became corrupt somehow—I'm running iOS 9 beta 4—I wouldn't lose the whole conversation); the clencher is that the very end. Bear with the running length (I can't let these people bury themselves down the line unless I let them say as much as they think and feel):
So, there's the drama demons have for me over the power blockade. No small drama at all. It is a hit right between the eyes if there ever was one. How I'm going to handle this one, I cannot say. It is a matter of life and death, and everyone knows it; but, they are making it so my options come down to "either them or me," and that's not an easy one, even if we lived in the Old West.
Bigotry not new to VMC doctors
Dr. Crapo is but one of a handful of doctors who believe that gays with HIV are public health hazards, and should not only suffer unhealthy libidos, but suffer ill health in order to hasten a death he feels they deserve.
 |
| Both Dr. Winslow and Dr. Crapo hail from the same camp as the guy who authored this death threat by letter |