Sunday, January 13, 2019

Christmas Time Catch Up

12-17-2018 [now 01-2019 so I can now get access on my desktop PC]

[In Victoria BC, at the First Feral Family house] I see I cannot get to my TIWorld blog (Blogspot) from here as Google has decided to put an intervening web page to prevent my access to my own blog. Hence no postings for four weeks until I get back to my residence and use the desktop PC there. Well done Google, or whoever is jerking your chain. The perps so like to interrupt regular events, and for the most part I posted a blog once a week. So perhaps this disruption is a stunt they are putting on for my readership, or at least, for regular readers.

A hair cut from a young woman trainee from Swift Current, Saskatchewan. She grew up there, and while this may seem a bit obscure, it was the location of my father's first geology job in Canada, emigrating from the UK after WWII and his subsequent training at Cambridge University and first coal geology jobs with the National Coal Board. I don't know exactly why he emigrated to Canada, and doubtless became part of the (still very active) oil and gas surveys in Swift Current. I believe my parents spent some two years there, (circa 1949-53) though I suspect he might of been a fish out water there as his training had been in coal geology. He later got his PhD in the geology at McGill in 1959, researching the Sukunka region of BC, which later became the Tumbler Ridge coal mine in the 1980's. 
It is just plain curious that these geographic "experiencers" of my family's past in this case, keep coming around. In this case it was this woman cutting my hair and all the proximity and touching that would entail. That she was cute didn't hurt either.
This "geographic experiencing" has also been noted when my ex, daughter, and mother made a vacation trip to Ottawa, Montreal, NYC and Washington DC about five years ago. My mother has no interest in any of those cities, and knows no one there, and to my knowledge, only lived in Montreal for my father's McGill studies. Said city was the main location of my "lost years", where it seems my recall was wiped, as I was beginning to form memories on my first arrival there in 1956. (Born in 1954). And for the record, McGill was the location of Dr. Ewen Cameron's criminal-level psychiatric atrocities that were CIA and Government of Canada sponsored, and were in full operation from 1952 to 1964. And he did research on children as well, including the Duplessis Orphans atrocities, yet to be recognized by the Government of Canada, even if their grovelling apologies over the equally appalling (and criminal) Indian Residential Schools gets news play every few months, now at least four years running. The Duplessis Orphans made a formal complaint to the UN, claiming that the Government of Canada is obstructing recognition and compensation. I don't know how that it going.

My daughter has no interest or connection in those above four cities, and my ex has an apparent friend, though I don't know who it is even if married to the ex for 20 years. A long way of saying that I have no idea as to why any of them made this trip. Ottawa and environs was also a site of military research of children in the 1950's, though I have no personal recollection of being there. I just find it interesting that family members have made this, and many other trips to my former geographic residence or travel locations, across Canada and the US. Though their 2018 trip to Iceland seemed more like a vacation visit, as none of them have been there before. Long past blogs (about 2008) have mentioned other First Feral Family trips that have effectively retraced my trips to Europe that I made in 1976; France, Italy, Spain, Germany. They are too much of a coincidence IMHO.

I drove from Penticton to Victoria, a Monday, and fairly uneventful, along with minimal road traffic. I even got to the Twassen ferry terminal in time to catch the 1500h sailing with minimal wait, and more importantly, minimal angst as to whether I would get on. A rare fortunate confluence of timing, as usually the perps like to hang me out to dry at the ferry terminals and keep me in angst mode as to whether I will get on the next sailing. In the past there has been irregular loading, (a "mistake"), where later traffic got on first, leaving me out to hang for another two hours after waiting an hour.

A return to the Gangstalking Capital of Canada, Victoria, BC, at least temporarily, and once on the PC at the First Feral Family house, and despite my best efforts, the consecrated password hassle all over again. I put my handwritten passwords, placed them in my briefcase, and lo, if these papers just didn't "disappear" somehow, and leave me bereft of my passwords. So when one logs on from a different PC in a different city, why, the Blogspot application (and many others) asks for a password. And of course Blogspot is set up so one rarely uses a password from my residence, which is why I needed the written list. But as is "disappeared", as in was teleported away, (nothing too unusual for me in this kept state, though not common nowadays), I had to get a new Google password.

This summer I had some papers disappear from my briefcase, and I know unequivocally that I put them in there, having just been handed them from the medical assistant in Bellevue, WA. I drove home without any use of my briefcase, and lo, they were gone when I got home. Well done assholes, and while I haven't had many blatant teleportation stunts these last few years, it was very common in the extreme Fuckover days of 2002-03.

A few weeks ago, I "discovered" my missing drill bits were in my residence. I was sure that my co-worker stole them, as only he had the specific knowledge that permitted them to be stolen in two lifts four weeks apart. Well as it "turns out", they were all there together at my residence with the rest of my drilling accessories. Either they got teleported there, or else I was given a massive mind fuck dose, twice. I don't forget that stuff, and I suspect it was a teleported theft at the time.

Here in the Gangstalking Capital of Canada at the second supermarket in two days, because my  doddering perp abetting mother "just" needed to go out grocery shopping. The gangstalkers were totally in on it, with these Fuckwits dodging between us, around us and even a threesome swarm came at me from behind. Insane.

I went to the federal government bureaucrat office to sort out some pension matters; what an exercise in futility. Then some downtown shopping, and lo, the Fuckwits move in. I went to LL to get a Christmas gift certificate for my undeserving daughter, and they had a freaking 6' ladder parked in the middle of the aisle next to the cash desk. (Ladders, for whatever reason, are an abiding gangstalking prop, and are often on vehicles at consderable greater frequency since all this shit came down. Talk about obvious stalking set ups.

Next door, they hounded my ass at MEC as well. I was allowed 30 seconds to look at some shirts when two Fuckwits arrived either side of  me within 20 seconds of each other. That there was hardly anyone else in the store made it all the more obvious.

A walk outside with my farm worker friend, and in keeping with last year's fuckery, yet again I was caught out with the wrong shoes -again. I brought down my hiking boots, and when making arrangements over the phone, I was led to believe that it was a city walk, but it was on the beach with the high tide and gathering storm. It just fucking pisses me off that I get caught out like this, and all the more so when I was prepared. And of course I was fucked out of taking my boots as preemptive measure. The perps get no end of Fuckover mileage out of thwarting one's measures to prevent the fuckery that they have habituated the victim with. And too, they like to fuck one's shoes, and walking rough ground with the wrong ones is just the excuse they need (usually). Though they didn't pull this latter stunt, but made sure I was plenty of worried about it all the while.

As it "happened" this gathering storm took out over 750,000 power utility customers on Vancouver Island and Vancouver in the afternoon and evening, and was one of the most destructive storms in the last 20 years. Some customers didn't get power back until the New Year, even if they did bring in repair crews from other provinces. Some 80% of Vancouver Island was without power that afternoon, evening and night, and "somehow" the area of the First Feral Family house wasn't affected, and not even a flickering of the lights. Well done assholes.

My perp abetting mother is starting up the "in the way" obstruction fuckery again- just started up today after being here after 5 days at the First Feral Family house. She is also taking showers ahead of me in the am; she never takes showers, always baths. All part of the "parallel activity" stalking as I see it.

Her place is a mess; all manner of food debris on the floor; the cleaners come tomorrow. I could not stand it, and cleaned some of the kitchen floor and the brown mat. I cleaned off the sticky red colored jam mess on the floor that I somehow missed and stepped into at about 1200h. By 1600h she had messed up the same area of floor, with jam, red of course. Not bad for a doddering 94 y.o., even if she has abetted  the perps since I was born (it seems). That takes skill to coordinate that, and no, there was no transit path of the jam to be stored in the cupboards involved as the jam remains on the dining room table. I bought a 1.5" drywall spatula to chisel the compressed food off the floor in aid of cleaning it.

I had to make a trip to the HD big box store to get a drywall spatula, and suffer the fucking gangstalking that had intensified for my first Victoria visitation since early 2018,. And the visit to HD was a set up in advance, so to get me royally infuriated beforehand. I must of spent at least 90 infuriated minutes attempting to print a two page Excel spread sheet, that somehow would not print all the columns when there was plenty of room to do so. A long standing piss off with this software, which for  its complexity, is very good. But printing is something else, with a dotted line running down the page as an imposed printing demarcation that cannot be moved. As to why they haven't fixed this sadistic "feature" in the 20 years I have used Excel I have no idea. And of course the perps know, and relentlessly fuck me around over this at length, also taking advantage of the fact that I am an infrequent Excel user nowadays. And within 20 seconds of finally getting the problem solved, why, my perp abetting mother "happens" to dodder up the stairs and puts on the chat act. Then, after being sufficiently wound up, I went to HD. Well done assholes.

The Filipino house cleaners came today. They come every two weeks, which isn't sufficient for my mother's ability to make a mess, and all the worse in the last few years. And she cannot see it now. With additional persons in the house, my perp-abetting mother was
doing her now-characteristic obstructing "get in the way" games. And the perps fuck my head to thwart preemptive measures to deal with this game.

Shopping, kind of the same again; extra obvious stalkers preceding me, getting out of their parked vehicle 10 seconds ahead of me and heading to the same store.. Fuckwits blocking egress in the CT store, presumably to re-route me when on a straight line path to the checkout.

The dishwasher suddenly quit working, and have we done this before, messing with water effluent, aka drain water? Too many times to count... This time my perp-abetting mother was helping me siphon water from the bottom of the dishwasher, both of us getting effluent water contact. This was preceded by me attempting to clean the drain in the bathroom downstairs, where the siphon tube "happened" to  be stored in the same cabinet where I had to disconnect the lever operated stopper.

During this, the ex arrived for a Christmas present drop off while I was in the  middle of dissecting the dishwasher issue. Some internet information, put up by the manufacturer, was very helpful, and it seemed to be a drain pump. After a further half hour of researching where to get the part, I determined that it could be had locally, and I made a trip to get it. All in all, the  amount of time expended in lying on the floor in fixing the dishwasher wasn't too lengthy, and nor did my mother attempt to obstruct progress. Yes, it did get fixed, and I have never fixed one before, or even looked under the hood as it were. The old drain pump seemed to be fine, but as the new one worked, that was the end of it.

What is it about this fucking town, or is it the FFF house, where they hack my recall so relentlessly? Three trips down the stairs and back to get my act together to get out the door; one for keys, one for a coat, and again for my shopping list? Fucking outrageous, all these obstructions when intending to do what I decided. There is something the Psychopaths just love about dithering the shit out of me to ensure there is more time expended between decision (setting intention) and acting on it. And too, mentioned many times, though it "happens" nearly every time, they dither the shit out of me when I am to set off in the vehicle to got to work or get something.

Hard to believe in this Christmas schtick with the hounds of hell on one's ass, as they have been for over 17 years. And all the more when staying in the house of the First Feral Family, my perp abetting mother being the only one here. All these games of hers, all of which developed in short order after the assholes first outed themselves going berserk/overt  in 04-2002. The above mentioned obstruction games and hand waving in front of  her face are two behaviors that seem to fit the perp's purposes. The former being one of those "intention prevention" stunts that have long plagued me, jumping by at least one order of magnitude since the aforementioned date of harassment onset.

And too, I "forgot" my perp abetting mother's new method of sneezing where she brings a totally unwarranted vocal component into it. She never, ever, did this before, and is now another of her "bullshit mixture" of sudden and inexplicable behavior changes. I have been reminded of this "habit" in the last five days or so. Funny how it suddenly came on now.

Today, my perp-abetting mother's vocal-augmented sneezes and coughs have been exquisitely timed to whenever I shift thoughts, from say, a planted notion that I reject, to get back to what I had been thinking about beforehand. Yet again, attention shifting (by me presumably), gets noise-stalked.

And when out n the public domain, the fucking gangstalking has increased too; specifically at the Asian food market nearby. It is a local chain of supermarkets, beginning with "Family" and is owned by Asians, who frequent it as well. And it has been mentioned in past blogs that Asians are one of the most persistent gangstalking races, and here again they made their point. Flowing and circling around me, and even one female Fuckwit, while I was 80% along an empty aisle, comes walking along and then stops 6' from me and stares at her list. And stares some more, pretending to be oblivious to looking like an utterly stupid  gangstalking shit. (Instead of DWA (Driving while Asian), it was SWA, (Stalking While Asian), and just as deranged and unpredictable). I was waiting for her to move as I wanted to get past her, but as she was in "just stand there" mode (pretending to be oblivious), I took off the other direction and went down the adjacent aisle, as this wretched Asian stalker was blocking me. More of the"intention prevention" fuckery it would seem, just an Asian woman doing the shit work instead of my perp abetting mother.

And as part of the flowing and obstructing aisles, the Asian gangstalkers put me off my intended beat to obtain the groceries on my list, item after item, in above mentioned supermarket. Another trick of the perps, in stores that I am not wholly familiar with, is to wipe me out from remembering where items are, and when I look at the aisle signs, they fuck me some more by either not "seeing" the sign, else removing it as they have been known to do in the past. (Though nowadays, it is mostly the former now that they have perfected their techniques these past 17 years of abuse). This too will re-direct me to further reaches of the store, an opportunity they can only exploit while visiting various supermarkets in the FFF in the Gangstalking Capital  of Canada, Victoria, BC. That is, four local supermarkets aren't wholly familiar to me, so I end up getting jerked around in finding items. (Trip total was five, plus two specialty grocers).

And to finish the stalking job off in style at the supermarket, the assholes choked down the available cashiers and flooded them with extra stalkers. This particular supermarket always has adequate cashiers on hand, and "somehow" they didn't for today's extra heavy gangstalking coverage.

And the Fuckwit who was right behind me at the checkout, and in the usual  fashion of moving in on me before I had departed, and who also came with his plastic bag he just had to flip out in front of me, just "happened" to tail me in his vehicle to the adjacent supermarket, get out of his vehicle, and again flip a same colored plastic bag in mid-parking lot, and then precede me into the second supermarket. (There were two items that I could not get at the first supermarket, so I went to the second one). Another fine coincidence. That this Fuckwit didn't again "show up" in the aisles surprised me somewhat, as they usually like to cover me outside, inside (front and back and each side of the store), at the checkout and outside again. At the second supermarket, the Psychopaths at least had the grace  to flood the self-checkout (which I used) after I began using it, instead of before. Though they weren't done yet; "somehow"  the self checkout malfunctioned and I needed the cashier's help, her intervention with a pass card, to complete the transaction at my side. (After she bumped into me). And just what is it about making a transaction that the perp's go so insane about? They have been beating on this for over 17 years of this abuse-athon, and haven't let up. Imagine how much effort they have devoted  to all this in the preceding 47 years  when they were in covert (to me) mode. And just imagine how much effort they have devoted hounding humans since millennia over the same deed, long before there was even a currency, EMF pollution,or display screens.

A royal gangstalk at the supermarket today (another unfamiliar one), with my perp-abetting mother, putting on her doddering and fumbling best. A five way clusterfuck  in the bread section, the second section with the packaged bread, (with two prior passes through the first fresh bread and pastries section) turned into an 8 way clusterfuck. Unbelievable, all these Fuckwit parties arriving in the regular aisle where the second-rate bread was kept, our last stop before the checkout. And my mother putting on her doddering and indecisive best.

But the Psychopaths weren't done yet; when the Fuckwits took their time to finally clear, they added one final stunt, that is, a confusion of intention stunt, when my perp abetting mother turned 180 degrees to head for the checkout, and one remaining Fuckwit remained in the way and made out that she didn't know which way we were headed. Just what is it about these ambulatory games where everyone pretends not to know where the other is going, and has a mutual confusion confluence as to what the other's intentions are? I don't even have a succinct name for this game, but it suddenly became very frequent since this abuse-athon started when the perps first went berserk/overt in 04-2002.

Out shopping again, and the gangstalking Fuckwits were up my ass at three stores, even if they were sparsely populated in the early morning. I had taken my ADD meds about an hour earlier, and I suspect they wanted to get me at this stage. This trip would be the first time in this city that I have taken these meds since 2002, so perhaps the Psychopaths found this too irresistible to leave me alone.

My mother pulled a fuckup event this afternoon; she said there was a play at a local church and she had arranged to meet a friend there. But as it "happened" it was only for an audition. Said friend came back to her place, and given her propensity to yack, it made for a four hour hole in the afternoon. Just what the perps get from me listening to two biddies bantering ad nauseum (about nothing interesting) is beyond me, but they have been pulling this shit every annual Christmas visit for six years. It must me something about keeping me in place while listening to human speech for extended duration devoid of information content.

I started a project (always a high Fuckover event) at the First Feral Family house, installing a FM aerial (the one I brought from my place); I was getting hit with at least five fuckups a minute, and was highly infuriated at every mental and counterproductive incursion. They even had me put a 1/8" drill hole in the wrong spot when I had a plan and measured it out which became the highlight of this infuriation barrage that never stopped for the whole time I was on this project.

The gangstalk show at HD became more than obvious when I was looking for a particular power tool; on an earlier visit I couldn't "find" it and so this time, a Fuckwit dressed in brown comes around for a second pass just when I decided I would purchase one. Upon seeing this Fuckwit coming at me again, I decided "fuck you" and departed without it. This is how these games go; incremental exercise in upping the ante as to a purchase (in this case). This would be an instance of the Pychopaths stalking me at the moment of decision and then interfering with executing it. Have I not long complained that they stalk my ass all the more when I make a decision, and also they like to thwart my intentions? In this case it was a two-fer.

Onto winter clothing for outside work; the design of parkas and ski jackets are getting way too short, especially for winter vineyard work where one is pruning and bending over all the time. I have sent a few back over the years for that very reason. My interest in all this was resurrected after my two year old TNF ski jacket had mysteriously began to break up, in that the fabric was splitting due to no perceivable wear or other cause. (Getting the right sized winter work coat has been a long running jerkaround; this would be the fifth such garment in six years, returns not included). So.... I see online one called a "parka" and it was on sale. I check it out on various sites, suspecting that it is in fact long enough, and then put it in my cart on a local outdoors coop called MEC. I check out more videos, and NONE of them show how long the parka is on them. (One infuriating stunt is to display the garment arms bent, so I cannot compare the arm length to total garment length). For crissakes; the most essential spec for me, and I get skunked. I give up, so I take a chance on it, order it, and lo, if the wretched outdoor coop has partially shut their system down and left me hanging as to whether it got ordered or not. Tomorrow, the cart will be empty, and who knows if it will be available at that sale price.

The next morning I check my email, and it seems the order did go through, but the assholes weren't done yet. As it "happened" two days later, I get an email indicating that they didn't have it in stock, like they indicated, and cancelled the item. I asked them to cancel the whole order, but they said the remaining item was already packed. Nice of them to ask. As it "happened", they delayed the order arrival at the store, and hung me out to force yet another trip in that neighborhood.

Then as it "happened" the same parka was available online from MEC the day after they indicated they didn't have any. Seemingly they didn't bother to update their inventory after getting it wrong. Two days later I drive home (01-11-2019) and see the same jacket and size is online, and so I order it. The next day they send me a message that they shipped it. Like WTF; how many times do they need to jerk me over on parkas (e.g. peculiar and premature wear), as well as ordering them? I expended at least ten hours over four days researching parkas and ski jackets for their qualities and fit.

On this three week junket to the First Feral Family house over Christmas, the assholes are 3 for 3 for screwing up my online orders. There was the above mentioned fuckery over the parka, and the remaining two.

My perp abetting mother has a totally boneheaded and unsafe method of using an oversized steamer insert when cooking. She agreed to getting an appropriate sized (and safe) steamer insert. The cookware order I made on her behalf went two rounds with two items, and its replacement, were both discontinued. And note, this was only determined after a two week wait when nothing happened, so I inquired, and it was only then I was informed that the item was discontinued. A replacement item of the same size was suggested by me, (as seen on a current web page of the manufacturer), and lo, it too was discontinued after another round of emails. So I cancelled the order, and in response they indicate they would reverse the charges. Like WTF; charging for an item that was discontinued and to boot they were withholding informing me about it.

The third online order over this visit to the FFF house was a replacement lamp socket kit for the overhead fan hood unit which I ordered through a Canadian parts site and was said to be shipped two weeks ago. I checked, and I now see it comes from NY state via UPS, and seemingly it got hung up for a customs inspection and the rest of that border crossing delay shit that routinely goes down. The next day, the postman, not UPS, delivered the parcel and asks for an additional $20 fee for crossing the border.

Another long standing need of the perps is to have me attend to the backyard compost pile, made of the lawn cuttings and raked leaves. Yet again, in my absence, nothing got done; it wasn't turned, and nor was any of last year's sifted compost utilized as I was assured it would be. This job had a number of delays over the three weeks I was there; weather, sticky wet soil, shoppings, the FM aerial intallation and other commitments. All in keeping with extending this particular job, as the Psychopaths so much prefer. And as usual when doing this job over at least six events, the yapping dog starts up, the next door grand kids play and yell, the hot rods and other loud mufflered vehicle travel to and fro, and most obviously, the overhead aircraft start circling. In this latter case, it is the single engine aircraft which somehow manage to "find" this location in suburbia and loiter for at least 20 minutes. And in addition, the passenger helicopters transit overhead, in an apparent re-direction of their usual route, as I have come to know from other work sites. They too seem to "find" me. No low flying AWACS aircraft this time, which would be exceptional as Canada does not own any, though that anomaly didn't stop them on one occasion. And too, the very high altitude STRATCOM (formerly SAC) aircraft noise is apparent as a continual component of the aircraft (noise) coverage. Bring on the noise, as the victim is slinging compost, a long running Psychopathic obsession that has been most obvious.

More red splatter clean up the past few days, same color as jam, but it was cranberry sauce, my mother making more up. She even got it 6' up the wall for crissakes.

Two years ago it was a outbreak of orange food splatter; she blew up a yam in the microwave, which I cleaned up and everywhere else she smeared it, and seemed not to see.  Then two days later she managed to splatter the same, now mashed and kept on a dish in the fridge, all over the kitchen counter, and again, seemed largely unaware of it. Just for the record, I cannot stand a mess, particularly in the kitchen, and what kind of family do I get stiffed with? Not only perp abetting quislings (consequently named as the FFF, per above), but the messiest assholes going, and worse yet, making out that they are oblivious to it. Even if they step into sticky jam on the floor, which IMHO, is the absolute worst situation, as it is tantamount to mess re-distribution.

An uneventful drive from Victoria to Penticton, excepting the loaded logging truck looming from the dense fog, coming into my lane from the adjacent pull out. That it had no visible lights as seen from the rear didn't help, but as this dark mass was moving, I figured it out in time. Spectacular timing that, but at least the L lane wasn't occupied, and the road was wet, not icy. And lo, if this event event bring on a parallel stunt on the other side of Penask Summit, when in the (less dense) fog, and a loaded logging truck was sitting in a pull out, beside an adjacent SUV, why, the SUV pulls out and again with the identical timing of getting in my way. Kind of like; lets first do a test with a loaded logging truck to pull in front of me, and then again (about 20 minutes later), with a parked passenger vehicle (beside a logging truck) as its surrogate. Well done assholes.

And speaking of fog, why is it the perps need to nail me in the eyeballs with a maser that persists for a very annoying ten seconds or so? This blackish ball just comes from the fog, and they pulled this shit in the identical circumstances and timing (about 20 seconds into the dense fog) last year.

And what is it about me looking after others' houses that so interests the perps? My brother was in Thailand while in Victoria, so I would look after his place twice a week. I arrive back in Penticton the very day my landlord departed for 8 weeks in Mexico, and I am looking after their place until early March. I looked after the latter's place, next door, for four weeks last year.

Enough for the while, and to assure my readers that I am still in play.