Today much depends on my wife

It's ingenious really as to how drugs and sex can be used successfully against me.

I've been poisoned again.  This time in manner most obscurious.  Bath Salts.  Floating in the apartment on to the floor, bedsheets, and cat food.  Similarly for two days in a row Sveta added bath salts to my morning kasha, today and yesterday.  I dumped most of it and had phenazepam as a backup benzo to keep the bath salts manageable.

From the time of my son's and moving back to Russia, reconciling and remarrying I wanted to see if we as more or less free actors can forgive, make amends and truly reconcile to the point where intimacy may be shared.  In this I failed.

For those of you who have read my posts my tale is an outlier somewhere past Pluto.

I found out in early 2017 in our Russian apartment Svetlana using juvenile son Nicholas as the weapon.  Ever here of 'Street Theater'? Google it.  At 8 a.m. while I was asleep they put on as show in the kitchen to bait me.  Svetlana throwing dishes this way and that, never before, never since. I attempted to interject myself into the fracas only to be rewarded with an oh so fast double ended cutlery knife.

The knife was the one placed easiest to grab to intercede me and he, my son, made no hesitation.  I strongly suspect my wife placed it there on purpose.   Me so predictable.

Immediately my left arm artery is severed, thick oily blood spewing out as if by fountain.

Interesting while recognized the high chance of bleeding out and dying in our kitchen for I am no medic, I intuitively turned a time into a tourniquet and Sveta an Nick went through the motions of getting me to the nearby Pavlov medical institute.

I find Svetlana's ability to lie so easily disheartening, but as readers of this blog know she would face scrutiny being the widow of the patsy (me) to whom was to be attributed the assassination of Obama thus installing Biden.  Ever wonder why he didn't run in 2016?  I don't think he thought he'd have to.

Returning to Russia I use a 'Private Entry Visa' which precludes one from legal work.  So I sit here on my second such visa bored to death.

As regards Nick's attack I claimed to the police to not recall.  They pushed.  I remained firm.  And by Russian law one can't be compelled to testify against family.  

Now the case sits in a stack of papers at the district attorney's office if my memory suddenly returns.

Oddly Sveta always takes the metro to the airport for vacations.  On this evening after a brief disagreement with my son, Svetlana invited me to join her for the airport ride as she had a confession to make.  She claimed she slept with an elderly alcoholic named Vladimir a gate guard for an abandoned property, who was quite smitten with our son.  

From Tunisia ( and she has never before or since made such a call) advising me call the police and warn them of Vladimir.  As an aside, Vladimir denied sleeping with Svetlana seperately. My suspicion was to start an appearance of a coo-coo with local police.  She also offered I kill the district attorney paper.  I refused both and sat still.That pspe may come in handy some day.

Interesting, on the way to the airport.  Svetana played dumb causing a minor traffic violation, this to distract me.  I nearly laughed at her 'Street Theater' but kept self in restraint.

Our son Nick protested living in Russia which got him two goes at Russian rehab centers.  He is now on his third.  Six months I pray and not a day longer. All drug abuse stories set up by his mom.  True or not, can't say.

In retrospect returning to Russia was a tactical error forced upon me by the gangstalking FBI looking to cover up what I learned  Biden and others had in store for Obama.

Nick was never raised in a normal family.  Couldn't understand what had been so good for two years went South when she became Nick's mom.  I began to begrudge and hate her and she I.  It boiled over with me sleeping with over 400 prostitutes and a 2012 divorce.

You see I knew not she was a Soviet trained 'red sparrow'.  My worldview was that she was simply a gorgeous poor Russian.  My paradigm was off, so off.

And from her long view must she wait for the action, her becoming a relatively deathly bit of notoriety.  And above all she would be free of my corrupting influences on our son Nick, making him laugh, speaking English wìth him and playing Zombie console game his mother detested.

She could then attempt to mold him into a successful Russian man, but IMHO, being raised dirt poor Soviet style  had not a clue.

In any case I'd be dead up their with McVeigh (who I think the FBI pushed his buttons via gangstalking), Good old Lee Harvey and a modest spectrum of lone assassin/terror types we are taught to believe in and fear.  All false flags soon fed us hy our corrupt law enforcement and criminal justice system.

Check out another targeted individual, Ole Dammegard, Google him on youtube about false flag terror attacks.  His paradigm switched mine.  Cops are corrupt generally the higher they go.  I've had cops lie to me twice, once leading to an arrest, now discharged.

Back to 'Stret theater'.  My son hardened towards me as I survived and shorty thereafter I sent his mother on vacation to Tunsia for a week.  I was still believing we would be a normal family no chance, especially with Svetlana's infamous confession of June 2014.  She claimed she never loved me but instead preferred the man, Alexander Valerievich Tregubov who poisoned me in a banya where we engaged in a 3some with a 20 year old named Evgeniya Viktorovna Kosheleva of Angren, Uzbekistan.  That was 2011.  I lost 35 pounds in a month from whatever he spiked my beer with.  Svetlana claimed she only stayed with me due to the creature comforts I could afford her.  

Alexander and Evgeniga's story was he was her 40 something pimp and lover who abused her.  I bought it hook line and sinker.  

Timing is important in these matters as I lost my 79 year old mother to COPD the next month.  The desperation was raw to something that  when I would be on death's door should I arrive at gates most golden I could tell a tale of saving a young lady from a life of prostitution.  Such the fool I, completely played.

Genya claimed to love him and I believed her although his abusive treatment of her sickened me and gave me purpose.  I would get her a flat, a job, perhaps even college.  All pointless fantasy.

By the time when I left Russia to retreat under a death threat organized by Tregubov, Kharchatrian, Kosheleva and my ex-wife, Svetlana their relationship simply vanished as though it had never been real.  This could be seen by their complete dropping of one another on their  preferred Russian social networks.

It took me until May 2014 that Svetlana was romantically involved with Tregubov and had been for some time.  I must admit the cherry on the top was his text message with loving 8th of March poetry.  Why on earth would one send such a message to the wife of a man you had made a death threat against? Svetlana gaslit me again blowing it off as no big deal.

Their goal at their level was to gain ownership of my Russian apartment. 

Genya quickly picked up with a man closer in age; it didn't work out for reasons unknown to me.

Now having failed to get permission to live in Saint Petersburg she is back in Angren, just turned 30 and appears to have a boyfriend her age.  Wonder if he  knows her past.  But not much.  Not my business.  I thought  I loved her once and that was enough for me.