Friday, June 29, 2018

greetings from serbia

just half an hour after posting my previous post featuring srdjan djokovic (the father of novak djokovic) which is about the only post with positive energy in this blog, while going to see a friend for a life changing meeting on june 18th 2018, I was brutally assaulted in downtown Belgrade (while unarmed) by an unknown serb with a tactical metal baton. I later found out the assailant’s name was milan milijasevic, veterinarian from serbia. I was struck violently several times over my head (twice at forehead) and all over body (chest, stomach, groin, arms..). huge hematomas are not visible in this photo as it was taken several days after the attack. i can thank Lord and stamina I have gained in the lifetime for staying alive, though not without consequences....
dear George W - they are now trying to invert the truth in serbia as dr. milijasevic is part of the system

to add insult to injury, serbian DA’s office charged me with an assault. after being taken to ER where it appears some doctors deliberately treated me as shit ignoring my injuries (the other guy is their colleague - veterinarian) thus even DA herself noted things the ER specialists fully omitted, I had to spend time in police custody where I was forced to undress myself fully naked in front of four officers while they examined the 'view', among other things (and who knows how many more witnessed and 'measured' the event on jailhouse CCTV; must assume it was a footage as interesting as the assassination of John F. Kennedy) – also denied drinkable water for hours – and now even though I can lay my head on the block (for a truth and chop with an axe) Mr. George – swearing that I have a penis much bigger than one half of serbian masculine population (when fully extended) – they are trying to humiliate me in Belgrade now, Mr. Bush (cos your administration had allowed it – for me to live here) fetching their private parts as they pass by. im talking serbs, Mr. Bush, the serbs. i do not have anything to be ashamed of. the size or the proportions of my dick was not the reason why my wife left me - according to the current serbian popular opinion Mr. George; the reason was your administration. will it be fuck it, fuck me or fuck them, yes or no?

Monday, June 18, 2018

(after so many years) finally, one positive experience in serbia

there is nothing more positive on Monday morning in serbia than Srdjan Djokovic, the father of tennis champ Novak Djokovic, yielding the right of way to you ---  shining like diamond in the view --- in his jaggie. WOW!!!!!!!

Friday, June 15, 2018

serbian madness

another macdonald’s episode. horrible. horrible. has it happened?

yesterday (june 14th 2018, before noon time) I went with my friend to macdonald’s (novi beograd, at jurija gagarina blvd.) for a coffee. in the coffee section - the coffee maker greeted us – as she knew me from   the time I visited other macdonald’s restaurants and she knew exactly what I was ordering – a double foamed cappuccino. she asked us to have a seat as she would bring the order over to our desk. however, she was overly polite (a mask? hidden agenda?) which made me to emerge into thoughts as to why and as she brought order she made sure I got the cup she wanted me to get, so I did not have a choice. in order not to be unpolite in front of my friend, I took several sips but it seemed as the milk portion of cappuccino was stale, that was the best I could describe the flavor, I did not like drinking it but I proceeded. as I was about to complain, my friend was about to leave – his coffee was okay and he did not want to raise much attention. so I stuck with it, pretending as if everything was okay, but as we were leaving the coffee maker jumped up behind her counter (four yards away from our table) as a toy clown on a spring as if she was hiding there listening to our conversation all along. I later imagined as if she was expecting me to die a sudden death.

some hours later I felt like I had kidney damage. there was a stinging in my belly in couple of places and I felt like I was going to throw up. something feels strung back around my kidneys’ region even now, a day after. took active coal pills yesterday but it did not help, have been feeling like my immune system fell down completely. feeling lifeless. something is burning up in my stomach, and stomach acid has been coming up into throat as of early morning. i have been praying, please Lord let me survive this...

what’s the beef?
what follows is just my two bits. serbs (Yugoslavs, rather) lost war with nato but they did not have the real chance to fight back. their esteem and pride have been low ever since 1999. they cannot get their hands on Clinton, Bush, Obama, Hillary, Trump, or any other western soldier - leader nor anyone considered and marked as the traitor (responsible for the fall of Yugoslavia) as these individuals have been well protected with money and bodyguards. so these pro-Yugoslavs that also like to pose as serb nationalists want to get anyone, even someone that has been ridiculed, expelled, persecuted, someone maliciously tagged with a liberal (should be liberated) opinions tag - just like me. they want sacrifice, the lamb. basically, they want someone to die – even if they poison him, they do not care – to feel better about themselves. and whoever does the dirty job will be a new national hero. there may be a new national sport called spot and hunt down the enemy. i am not a serb by choice. i was forced into this. born into this. and this is madness. 

the evil, the spite and jealousy, the venom and backstabbing, followed by garbage fratricidal behavioral modes.... it makes you think whether Jews from the Bible, those that crucified God, are these guys that live here in Serbia now. 

what i assume is going on here as well - if a serbian service provider (waiter/waitress, e.g.) has radical political views and he or she assumes that you are politically targeted then truly beware, the service won't exist, just pure revanchism and purge; purge being the key word which implies degrading your health by deploying stealth and subversive ad hoc assumed techniques. 

Tuesday, June 05, 2018

The Prison Called Serbia.

it’s a nice day for dying….

a few days ago, I summed up my blog contents concisely and it was reflected in the listing of its 370 titles. if taken out of context them could have driven serbs mad. oh yeah, they [the titles] did for it was a gung-ho harassment day in serbia yesterday.

lemme ask a simple question. which happened first – when I got back from america all of a sudden I went crazy and started writing bad about serbs or serbs did something to me which sparked my resistance?

well, those same powerful pockets of serbian evil engineering who had been managing driving me crazy since 2003 and setting serbian abhorrence and hostilities all along were shrieking out loud behind the same closed curtains:

let’s deal with this monster. kill him, poison him, no one should care nor feel any remorse. he is the traitor to our country.

as of early in the morning, serbs were coming at me, giving terrible looks mostly. it should have been telling enough – to be on the alert for possible danger. and when I took a seat in that one restaurant where art and antique pickers are huddling up by the kalenic fresh market I was clueless. my friend was joking with me:

drink your water, look how nice and cold are those ice cubes and that slice of lemon. it’s a nice day for dying…

I took a few sips. and another. and another. i did not feel much at first. i took quite a few sips rather. the inside of my mouth was starting getting bitter and tingling feeling began overwhelming me. the waitress that I saw there for the first time brought a small water bottle without a lid on; that they usually unscrew when they are by your table. it should have been telling too.

I drank a lot of milk yesterday trying to unposion myself. it did not help. something bitter was coming up my throat from the belly all day long. it did not ache. but the feeling of extreme bitterness and bloating was present. this morning too, I feel something is there, something very unusual. I feel terrible as if there is a problem in my stomach and that super funny feeling in my mouth connects the dots; I am without an inch of power, without a will to do anything. the only relaxation brings the thought that this is serbia – where everything is possible, and the effect is mostly negative. I always see the bad in things and people – and my current habitat is the crown jewel for such thinking. the milk cow. cos when you are in the prison you can do nothing about it, and that thought by itself has been relieving. The Prison Called Serbia.

I should have taken that into my problem equation to feel a bit better. I died a thousand deaths in this country. perhaps they all were the close calls and this one yesterday could have been the closest of them all. who knows what the consequences will be, in other words what the acid or whatever it was – does to your body?!

Friday, June 01, 2018

historical parallels to sadism i am experiencing in serbia

I was trying to figure where does the pure sadism on the part of many in the serbian nation comes from and if anyone else ever had to go through what I am going through in serbia and I have found a translation of a letter complaint by the infamous nazi julius streicher describing what he had experienced after he was captured by the american soldiers in 1945. the following is the translation of the complaint he made. I do not feel sorry for julius streicher neither I want to discuss nor analyze the historical relationship between any groups or nations. I just want to point out that the similarity in what seems to be the low-level revenge has always been strikingly similar in its blatancy and deliberate tendency except that my problem with serbs is – they are the julius streicher with respect to me – they had created and started the problem! 


On 22 May [1945) I was arrested in Waidring (Tirol) and was brought into the jail at Salzburg. There my hands were put into handcuffs by a Jewish police-officer.

On 23 May, I was brought to Freising, via Toelz and Munich. During the 200 Kilometer trip in considerable cold, I was only dressed with shirt and pants, since my jacket was not given to me. My bands were handcuffed.

In Freising I was put in a cell, where there was no possibility of sitting or lying down. The window was removed and the cell was cold. During my three days stay in there (23 May afternoon to 26 May afternoon) I was subjected to the following treatment:

1) After being stripped of my clothes, two Negroes tore my shirt into two pieces. Dressed only with my underpants, and barefoot, I spent three days in the cold room. During the night and during a few hours in daytime, I was handed an old military coat. It was taken away immediately, whenever I tried to resist the tortures.

2) Two or three times daily I had to stand against a wall, with my handcuffed hands held above the head, whereupon a Negro or the police-officer kept hitting me on my genitalia, with a leather whip up to a minute long. Whenever I made a resisting move with my handcuffed hands, I received a hit with the foot in my testicles. My testicles and genitalia were badly swollen.

3) Two or three times daily I had to open my mouth, whereupon the white police-officer or the Negroes spat into it. If I kept my mouth closed, it was forcefully opened with a wooden stick.

4) When I refused to drink from the piss-bowl in the toilet, I was hit with the whip.

5) On each of his visits to my cell, the white police-officer pulled hair from my nipples and eyebrows.

6) During the three days I received no nourishment, and only once I was allowed to drink water in the toilet. When I refused to take and to eat partially decayed leftovers from a cardboard box, I was pushed to the ground, a heavy iron chain was put on my back and I was forced to kiss the feet of the Negroes.

7) At the end of each torture, I had to put out with my bare feet burning cigarette butts, thrown on the ground.

8) I was repeatedly photographed by people of the press, while wearing underpants and my genitalia were visible. The photographers were Jews.

9) On the last day, two hours before being transported to Wiesbaden, a Negro said: now comes “kill, kill” and made the corresponding gesture at the throat. He asked me what I wanted to eat or drink, I may wish. I asked for paper in order to write a letter to my wife.

10) Before being transported, a Negro called me into the toilet, then threw my civilian clothes in and ordered me to get dressed. This I had to do with handcuffed hands.

On 26 May, I was brought to Wiesbaden in handcuffs, where I arrived in the early hours of 27 May. Only in Wiesbaden, the handcuffs which I had on since 22 May (five days) day and night were removed from my greatly swollen hands and infected joints. Since then I am under medical care. The officer in charge of the jail in Wiesbaden (he said he was a Jew) acted correctly.


Julius Streicher