We've both had the experience of hearing a tiny rhythmic sqeaking of one of the kittens in the quiet of our bedroom, only to realize it is our lungs. Three for three. Third poisoning in three months since the turn of the year. Most might call it a flu but we have had our eye on doings in Douglas, Arizona, the tiny northern tip of large Mexican city Agua Prieta, Sonora, distinct day and night under an otherwise "blue sky" for the creamy pall over the population base. On "clear" days Douglas always sports a whitish pall of nanoparticulate filth which won't move an inch in 90 mph wind. Traveling the highway home eastward from Bisbee entering the valley brings powerful pressure to the head and the ears once we drive past the GWEN tower encharged with keeping those weapons we can't call clouds held in place. A whitish haboob hangs persistently some twelve miles off to the east over the mass by night, maybe not visible to the people living there but bare naked obvious from our vantage point. Plus the "mad bomber" as hubby calls the very slow-moving, very low pilot on a slow, regular path flying passes from top to bottom over the entire population most nights. Three to four hours of passes along the vertical axis of the area, hairpin turns at the extremes, back and forth along the same flight path. Starts shortly after sundown. This pattern which I reported to all local authorities, none of whom knew of it, finally said by a sheriff's deputy to be the college's night time flight training program (right planes by day weaving cloverleaf patterns over open desert, while novice pilots traverse the largest population base for fifty miles around all night?). All the ambulances heard on the distant highway, but especially right after dawn when families discover corpses where loved ones slept. It is passing through Douglas where we believe we've been poisoned. Most recently as Donna In AZ and Marc noted, during the perfidious slathering of southern AZ with an aerial assault. As Donna said, you'd see this blue sky raped by strictly straight lines hovering over I-10 like the sky had ruptured. Trails that never fanned out at all. Evidently about surveillance of those traveling that highway, for the covering overhead remains too slender to do a thing about uniform deflection of sunlight. After which the coughing started again (it had totally ceased for us both), him sounding like he smoked numerous packs of cigarettes per day. His lungs sound like a cement mixer when he's got this poisonous reaction, clearing up then after a few days. There's the intestinal thing, to which we've previously been lifelong strangers. Feels like alka seltzer bursting into a fizz from throat to crotch with a UTI. An intermittent queasiness, tiredness, lack of energy and general malaise. A new sense of resignation. Wanting to flee to Mexico, to [one of several locations] where daily observance of infrared satellites and webcams reveal radically less celestial filth than Douglas sports. Douglas is a fright. As if 10,000 cement plants were in operation as the US/Mexican population base is gradually whited out of visibility during otherwise "blue sky" days. I have so many pictures, videos. We only live to get out of this prison state, where McCain has dotted the scenic local moonscape with the swelling economic boon of new prisons popping up everywhere. Nice investment for creeps. We are in a mental prison, just ticking off days until we can leave. Hubby covered the home with bricks last year at this time, both of us enthusiastic to build the home of our dreams. Now he says he couldn't lay up ten bricks. All this report in pleading for prayer from the faithful here. We covet nothing more. To those who scoff at prayer, imagine God even favoring this sole response that the very infirm and aged can muster.