Sunday, July 07, 2019

Two to the Power of Six + 1

That makes me 65 yo. now, a TI pensioner, still a Prisoner in Disguise. No harassment  reprieve for pensioners as I have come to know. Not that I expected any different, having been through 50, 60 and now 65 yo. and no let up. At least they didn't hammer me with planted notions of cessation of hostilities due to a round number birthdays this time, as they have in the past.

I was on wine bottling duty for the prior two days, and of course, plenty of things go wrong with washing, drying, filling, capping and labeling operations in a 30' mobile trailer. I was on the "glass dumping", unloading of the new empty bottles onto the conveyor, case by case. I don't mind it, and as it is a dog simple task, no one bothers me. At this winery that is not an issue, but at the last one, with very agitated supervisory individuals, it made a difference to have this little slice of relative freedom. Anyhow, the bottling crew changed some; the "old brown nut" as he called himself (E. Indian in fact) wasn't there, but they added a dude with extra baggy shorts and a negro in addition to the E. Indian woman who was there in the past three bottlings. The bottling crew was to do two runs from different wineries on the first day but got the winery specific corks mixed up sometime through the first bottling run. I have never seen my normally calm boss so infuriated before.

And too, with so many filled wine bottle rejects due to label and capsule application problems, in addition to the aforementioned cork problems, there were plenty of cases for each on the floor, and a whole lot of "bend overs" by our crew to deal with moving these anomalies out of the tight trailer to the case packing crew. (Not so many as at a yoga class at once, but over two days, about the same). Some bottles were to be poured back in, others were to be kept aside etc., so plenty of differing dispositions to manage. And do the perps ever love things to go wrong, never mind having extra unplanned categories of rejects as well. There is just too many perp things to love about production lines, that is, for them to go wrong, create reject variations and hold it up. This often gives the staff to come to where I was standing and stand exactly where I was, and too, swap the E. Indian woman for the male negro. And have I not complained about the constant and relentless campaign since 04-2002 to have their operatives and shills stand or walk over the very ground that I do? Countless times; attempting to replicate my energy field (I assume) with another party in the exact same spot as me has been a harassment standard, never mind attempting to get these same fuckers up my asshole in the shortest possible time, most notably at checkouts.

Said negro was up to some peculiar operational bottling line habits; doing chin ups while bottles were traveling past on the conveyor below, and also doing leg stretches on the trailer tail gate after I had vacated that patch over the 1.5 days I had spent there. Not exactly becoming or professional behavior and perhaps adding to the "strange cred". Weird to say the least, and I have never seen anyone act so perversely on a bottling line before.

There is something about glass, and glass handling (and bashing) the perps love, and all the better that it be filled with an alcoholic beverage. They are constantly on my ass in the government liquor stores (wine, beer and spirits) and no doubt obtain great benefit from me being on a bottling line. I suppose it is a testament to exchange rate manipulation, but it astonished me that some 6,000 bottles in their cardboard cases is sourced from China these days, and not from North America. All the better to have bottles of irregular shape (QC issues) that won't take a label properly (more things going wrong, and too, their endless fuckery over things from other locations.

The usual desultory perp-abetting family recognition of my birthday; no one got a card to me on time, and my daughter was a day late with a phone call. (She holding the lamest excuse of all, "I was out with my friends"). All my life I have wanted to rid myself of bozos, dipshits and other saboteurs, and here I am saddled with them as family in this too-long running abuse-athon with them as full participants.

Out and about to LD and SOF tonight, two of my regular stores. In the former case I had a Rx to fill and "somehow" it disappeared from my regular jacket pocket yesterday when I wanted to fill it, and today, why, it re-arrived exactly where I had left it. All to fuck with my timing and getting it filled today instead of yesterday. But as it is a special order item, and the order had already been sent today, the Rx won't arrive until two more days. Well done assholes; by fucking with my papers, you forced a three day delay instead of one.

That wasn't the only papers that went missing; a coupon for a discount has gone missing when I ordinarily take extreme precautions to ensure papers don't go missing. It is something I learned long ago, pre-overt harassment, as I had the most frequent "misfortune" of missing papers. Once I got organized, that was the end of it (mostly), but since the Psychopaths went berserk/overt in 04-2002, they don't mind letting me know about their teleportation fuckery, especially when it comes to paperwork. And too, in the immediate pre-harassment period in 2001, my then wife (and daughter) came to visit me in Seattle, and lo, if a number of documents weren't stolen by the ex; my visa documents, monthly bank statements, tax returns and pay stubs all went missing for 1999 and 2000 while I was at the pool with my daughter. The ex was still in my apartment, and from 40' away I could see her at my desk through the window.  A week later I found my tax returns missing, but didn't look for other missing papers. All this came to roost recently, as I needed these documents for my pension application. The ex declined to reply to my request for the documents. And she did the same when my mother intervened and gave her the same letter in person. So what is it about the Psychopaths that they need to arrange stolen documents? And don't tell me the ex was just acting on her lawyer's advice. She was acting on someone's advice as she isn't that forward thinking. A devious shit yes, but not one to plan ahead though.

At SOF they had me covered even in the parking lot, by sending a red van full of dudes slowly through one row of parking stalls to then cross in front of my intened path and park next to my vehicle. I have never seen such irregular parking lot driving in all my life; one slowly drives into a stall and stops and parks. But no, these Fuckwits keep driving and cross the aisle space between the rows of stalls so they can park next to me. Another never-before behavior, this time while attempting to park their vehicle.

While in SOF they had the back-and-forth Fuckwit get in my way, all to send me down a different aisle and past the three dudes that may have been party to the above mentioned parking lot stunt. I attempted to get around the freezer case, and lo, if they didn't have two Fuckwits arrive just as I as about to go there. I went elsewhere for awhile, and lo, if the Fuckwits weren't coursing back, all in keeping with the time-honored gangstalking method of having repeat stalkings, aka redux stalking. At least two more were on my ass, and at least two around-the-corner eruptions of stalkers, another time-honored technique of having a stalker Fuckwit at a 90 degree angle about to step in my way, and a chance to get closer. An attractive blonde woman was on my ass intermittently as well, getting more positive attention than the rest of the parade of Fuckwits. She doing a head flick of her gorgeous blonde mane while momentarily stepping away from the checkout (now in front of me),  and  bent over at the next check out, for no seeming reason. Like WTF; she stepped out and did her head flick too fast to be bending over to look at any checkout promotion (e.g. magazine), and promptly returned to the checkout, all to accomplish absolutely nothing in conventional terms, and besides, look fucking stupid. No wonder she ducked down to hide her bizarre act. Just another day of seeming normal people doing peculiar things in my presence.

And too, I saw the oncologist at the Kelowna hospital two days ago; the PSA numbers are down both in April and June (good), and he seemed more motivated than last time to get on with the infernal bowel side effects (aka, collateral damage). Why it took him 18 months to get to this point I have no idea.

And the perp interest in clothing changing continues. As I was taking off my fleece vest at the hospital, the unfriendly nurse puts on a all too-fake throat clearing noise. Like WTF lady; don't try and tell me with a straight face that you had a throat issue just then when I have been relentlessly hounded at this juncture for 17 years. And too, all this while, never mind the procession of Fuckwits (bizarrely) wearing horizontal and vertical partial shirts, no shirts or every other excuse to change clothing, usually adding or subtracting a sweater or coat in my presence. This latest example of clothing changes goes to show how close the Psychopaths have my every move covered for their purposes.

I caught Winnie Brave at a local venue two days ago; a pre-birthday treat for myself, though I paid for it the next day in terms of the radiotherapy bowel damage issues. A great show, and well worth the impromptu (seemingly) decision to go.

Anyhow, another week passes of being Victim Central of the Relentless Abuse-athon,
knowing (yet again) that round number birthdays count for nothing. I really don't want to be 70 y.o. and be still kept under the Psychopath's thumb. Not even for another fucking day if I had my way.