Archives for posts with tag: off the grid

Two weeks away from my (behind schedule) vanishing act, in couple of hours respite from untangling 8 years overstay in the European Union, includes surviving several assassination attempts and interior ministry order expelling me, I picked up a set of pastels and a sheet of paper and did what I had not in some 35 years; played the artist.

This is encouraging, when the maize and other crops are in, if there is inopportune weather for taking up fishing rod, I’ve found something to do; despite my neurological impairment. Pastels are forgiving media.

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Paintings on wall

The little collection of impressionist paintings is beings disposed of; but will be recalled with this single, modest effort –

23 August 2016 update: Finally, this week it’s off to the farm! Had been stuck in what seems like endless bureaucratic limbo while establishing residence in the country I presume to a retirement hobby of micro-scale organic farmer. Hopefully I’ll be planting in April, but meanwhile I’d been a bit impatient with certain entities and punishing then with some of the meanest stuff I know how to inflict (certain CIA aligned people should ‘get a life’ and quit throwing up impediments to my pursuit of happiness.)

In a month or so I’m initiating a process of unplugging from the grid, something I’ve working to pull together for over a year. There will be an intermediate stage where I’ll be searching out the future farm I’ll be giving attention to; in an off-beaten area whose general environs has already been selected. This transitional stage will not allow for much attention to ‘things’ other than preparing for a whole new (and entirely different) life. You won’t see much of me here.

After the transitional stage, I’ll be a small farmer in nowhere and desire nothing more than that. Other than immediate family and intimate friends of many years, those perchance inclined to visit, those ‘friends’ I will be giving my attention to will be my maize stalks, chili peppers, pinto beans, butternut squash, potatoes and tomatoes.

There is no plan to have internet, no TV, no cell phone, no radio, none of it. Concerning my email, it’ll be checked once a month, downloaded from a wifi cafe. Any reply will be composed offline and sent the following month. After awhile, I might not even do that.

ronaldthomaswest.com will last as an archive so long as my credit card continues to automatically renew it or through 2019. Or my credit card is cancelled. Or the banking system collapses. Or I’m dead. Or the madmen who run NATO push us into a civilization ending war with Russia. Or whatever. I was never a really happy camper at this website, it’s crossed my mind I could go to hell for some of my satire. What’s more is, this line of work is not what I’d have chosen to do and I’m not altogether happy with the development of my personality; having to do with immersing in the social-septic infection called geopolitical intrigue. But that’s the hand the gods dealt me and I’ve tried to make the best of it.

It’s been a wild ride. The craven behaviors of their political bosses notwithstanding, my sincere thanks are extended to those low and mid level police of Germany and Spain who have been most helpful over these several years, with informal cooperation developing information on assassination linked to organized crime in NATO and other institutions (and special thanks to the brave woman agents in Spain who saved my life on two occasions.)

Ok, so this announcement has been a long time coming. In a week or so I reach the bonafide retirement age of 65 years. I’ve earned it. I really see little more can be done from this end. If people are content to allow the sociopath morons who have risen to rule take us all to Armageddon, led like sheep to slaughter, that’s precisely what’ll happen. And simply to be consistent, I’ll sign off in true assholio style (nom de guerre ‘penucquem’) and state people deserve the fruits of their cowardice –

C’est la vie (or c’est la mort, as the case may be…)

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Exile
fuck yeah, it’s about time
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