Sunday, December 24, 2006

I Spy ... a Pattern Here

More family gangstalkings, feints and deliberate protraction of pedantic activites. The latest is us (my parents and I) getting in the vehicle. Somehow, a last minute concern arises and I am left in the vehicle waiting for them to come, usually 2 to 4 minutes later.

The acquisition of the Christmas turkey was a classic; besides being in a tight and overpopulated section of the store, with a stocking cart adroitly planted to constrict more aisle room, and a "staff member" slamming into my shopping basket, there was a "disappearance" of my parents in departing from the checkout, one of the Holy Gangstalk locations. With the turkey under my arm, I retraced my steps and they weren't there, but instead another surge of gangstalkers was on me in both directions for this rare event of returning to a grocery store within a minute of leaving it.

But as my parents weren't to be seen, "I" chose to return to their vehicle (that I drive for them) and deposit the turkey in the back hatch area, the SUV equivalent of a trunk. No doubt this was an intended "me and the turkey" energetics assay and they returned in about five minutes of waiting time. When I asked them how they "disappeared", the answer was vague to say the least. That in itself is an answer, along the lines of "we are abetting in you being harassed and monitored".

And the selection and arrangement of acquiring the turkey was a follow-on from a very similar arrangement that had preceded it. My mother was ditzed out on whether the 12lb. turkey was big enough, and she explained this to a staff member and waxed on about the unfolding changes over the Christmas arrangements that transpired since it was ordered. The staff member was Latino looking woman, with a light brown skin although Caucasian featured, and she eventually made a trip back to the butcher area to get a bigger turkey. More ditz time with her passed before we finally went to the checkout.

Before that, there was a trip to the library and like ditzing of my mother's with a darker brown skinned, Caucasian looking (I couldn't place her with my limited knowledge of racial appearences) woman at the library desk over a book that my mother thought was returned but was notified that it wasn't. Anyhow, it was the same arrangement as above, the library clerk went off into the stacks and returned with the book and all was solved. That too was another 5 minutes of face time, myself and my parents, with a brownskinned woman, though Caucasian featured, who momentarily departed in the name of service, and who then returned for more face time. Call it "The First Feral Family visits brown skinned perps/shills all together for five minutes of face time each". Like a field day.

I recieved a Oster toater oven from my daughter for Christmas today. It has a whole lot of features and it spells one thing; more continued harassment for 2007 but a change up in the diet. That is, back testing new and wonderful foods and their energetics interaction in the course of digestion. Big deal, and not what I wanted. It is all about suspending the harassment for good, nothing less, and the capability to work without any intrigue and pointless toil jobs.

As a toaster oven, it doesn't have a magnet in it like a microwave; as it turns out, there is good reason my parents keept theirs in the basement, and not in the kitchen. Keeping themselves away from magnets, just like they do with me; e.g. headphones.

After securing arrangements for giving my vehicle to my daughter for a birthday present in 06-2006, I learned today that she/ex-wife are going to sell it "because it doesn't have airbags". Fucking pathetic when Volvos 240 series can withstand 50mph head-on collisions and have the driver uninjured. That I know from reading the stories on the vehicle that customers of ipd, a Volvo aftermarket business, posted in their newsletter. Always one morphing story after another, from her, the parents, this ongoing change-up all the time, and it doesn't add up and they never did this before BOH, Before Overt Harassment.

No break for harassment on Christmas Day; four "shaving cuts", the spontaneous bleeds the assholes create, and then protract with two rounds of the steptic pencil, which was "readied" by having it somehow come out of the protective tube that it is placed in. And I have come to learn firsthand that the perps can defeat the action of a steptic pencil and continue bleeding for 20 minutes or more. It is a huge inconvenience applying pressure for that long.

I finished the book "Spy" by David Wise, all about the Robert Hannsen case, an FBI counterintelligence operative who gave away the crown jewels for 21 years. And there were three opportunities that were missed in the last ten years of his treachery. He was near retirement when he was caught, and only because they paid a Soviet mole who had the entire KGB file, and took it with him in an arranged defection. A travesty of stunning proportions.

And the story did affirm a notion that I (or is planted) that this entire professional spy business is a zero sum game and it too is being monitored and orchestrated for the perps' objectives. I repeat, this is only a notion and it is not provable, but there seems to be a pattern; no one is getting ahead for the moles seem to self "erupt" on both sides, in the traditional Cold War sense. Now there is more than two sides, and I am sure this skullduggery is as deep at it ever was.

The entire 9/11 seemed to be an exercise in playing up the terrorism threat (the war that Pres. Bush says won't end), and the powers that be chose to ignore. This is another more recent pattern that fits my above supposition of high level manipulations.

Another notion that I have is that of the "organizational and collective brain fart". This is more ably described in the book titled The Road to Abilene, (link fucked) which collates examples of organizations doing dumb things that no individual would do in the same circumstances. After reading about the Vietnam War's genesis, it seems that there was a considerable lack of anyone in Johnson's cabinet who asked the hard questions as to the objectives and need. It was a follow the leader show all the way, and even Robert McNamara was saying in The Fog of War that he followed his boss' word. This was the first pointless war of the last fifty years, and another in Iraq is underway with much the same curious non-objectives. President Bush says we will succeed, but does anyone know what that definition really means? What will it look like? And of note, the Iraqi armories were not secured until three weeks after US occupation and after 240,000 tonnes of munitions were removed, and to me, that spells planned insurection as has unfolded. Call me an excessive cynic if you like, but if those facts are true, then what is the real objective?

This time, I suspect that Pres. Bush's cabinet is in on the real story, as they all seem so secretive, glum and defensive. Their version of events is enough to get them out of the current circumstances, but very often, one finds out later there was additional information that they were privy to and should of acted upon. Does anyone ask how the Patriot Act came to be drafted so quickly after the 9/11 event? No one I know, and that should be a story in itself.

Christmas Day is drawing to a close; there was an extended family gangstalk at my ex's with my daughter in some kind of distant blue funk. Plenty of entrances and exits and the digital camera was adroitly placed 3' behind me for an hour or so of family chat time. The perp-sickos love to exploit other sensors in proxzimity to me; microphones, telephones CCDs (in digital cameras), etc.

And for the second time in going there in two days I got the red & white vehicular gangstalk show, about seven of each; all vehicles around me were red or white, about seven of each. The only difference today was that a black vehicle was ahead and behind me. And this occurred at the very same intersection as yesterday when transporting the turkey to my ex's. (McKenzie and Glandford for the locals.)

And more of the family gangstalking action in having someone's hands in front of their faces while speaking, or in other situations, another person's hand was in front of someone elses. Fucking rude and a Christmas travesty to even participate in this criminal fuckery. And I note that the perps are adding in more "self-talk" into "my" internal dialog, much more than what I would generate myself.

Other Family Christmas Fuckover stunts were to have three separate conversations going, speak at the same time as I was, have my audience's attention diverted while speaking and a few other stunts like having me stutter and look away at the same time. I never do either of these, and "somehow" this happened both at once. There were plenty of other feints, of the smaller kind, and enough for me to notice that now four and a half years later, still no one asks how am I doing, what am I doing etc. As I see it, they already know and besides, are all on the same behavior pattern in being unobjective or "pretend", and "don't" want to know and are even emotionally distant (my daughter's specialty act). Strangely, no red wine with Christmas dinner, though there were plenty of red colored foods.

And for going home in the dark, a red warning light on the dashboard stayed on the entire way back, and was no doubt part of the routine of keeping red tailights in front of me as well. When outbound there was at least 300 gangstalk vehicles including above red and white show for a 15 minute journey, which is quite a few for Christmas Day on that route (McKenzie, Cedar Hill to Burnside for locals).

And for some reason, my former step daughter's current husband was the selected person to have four of the five Hughes' family (that includes me) as the male specimen/gangstalker to talk to at length (>30 min.), everyone else having slipped away. Strange how that evolved as usually my ex serves as the go-between/social convener. Anyhow, I am stuffed, and this on top of some increased girth for no known reason, and the fitness constraints are still in effect; no hiking, running or swimming permitted, even if I could access my fitness clothing.

This is Boxing Day in Canada; once a statutory day off, now a retail free-for-all. I am still at my parents' gangstalk center and typing on this rather slow PC as well as suffering the typing harassment. (The wrong letter will "show up" instead of the one (key) I pressed.)

And more organized follies in this land of chaos; a "ham explosion" where a bowlful erupted forth from the fridge when my mother was pulling it out, leaving it on the floor for me to "find" when I got downstairs to the kitchen a few minutes later. And, I wasn't allowed to find all of it at first, there were two dicreet groups of it, one at the fridge and another 3' away. I go beserk if this kind of stunt is pulled on me, but they don't seem to mind.

More orchestrated parental indifference over:

  • my ex-wife, pre-support agreement, not reporting $200/month of child care income from CPP Disability from my claim and that CPP Disability not informing me of this, twice
  • getting in the financial hole again due to the computer takeout, two pairs of shoes self-destructing, the cell phone takeout, the recent teeth cleaning bill,
  • the recent professional forester's fees, and the anti-virus software I was obliged to pay as my pirate copy began "failing", and the
  • four successive years of income tax re-assessments over the same matter and that I won every time and that this fits the pattern of other harassment.

It might be Christmas but who says we give a shit is the implied message, if I didn't know that already.

And a family kerfuffle erupted just now over "me" voicing my exasperation of having another party dynamically hacking my keystrokes as well as spoofing my file contents, including this one. Anyhow, it was likely another feint to have them all gathered around here, and listen to me complain about this happening in the last eight locations, including work and home in Seattle, never mind the odd Kinko's and other public internet access sites. When it happened at work in Seattle, I took a copy of it and printed it off, and the file spoofing ended right away.

All of that was relayed to my parents just now, and another round of malevolent indifference unfolded, though my father got cranked up as he thought that I was accusing him in his befuddlement. He is another case of abetting the perps for all his adult life and signing me over at birth for their "care", and as I see it, he only got fucked over, especially now as a dementia sufferer, or that is how it seems, though he lays it on a bit heavy at times.

Another feature of three males at last night's Christmas dinner was that they each had at least one small piece of a sparkly reflective foil or mylar on their faces, as if a microcosm of seasonal decoration landed there and stayed in place. None of the males there are the types who would wear anything like makeup, so all I can conclude is that it is more games of the perps in some kind of color/light reflectivity games.

This morning's discussions (perp indifference above), had my mother "inadvertently" waving white tissue paper about in her hands, with a green printed brown box on the table, and wearing an odd asymmetric red(L) and green(R) sided jacket. And I reiterate that she has become far more expressive with her hands in the past four years that she ever was before, with the same emotional investment and delivery.

And I learned of another perp accomplishment, which translates into being fucked with a whole lot more. They are now able to dither my recall of what I know I know. In other words, while recalling (correctly) a name of a downtown store I haven't visited in at least a decade, the notion was planted that the correct name was not right. Then when my mother mentioned the store's name, "I" was then allowed to percieve it as correct, and only then. This is exceedingly scary, as the perps can now freely fuck with my knowledge of what I know. This should be in the headlines of all the newspapers, though I don't expect it to make even the back pages, assuming this blog is really on the internet, and not just the make-believe world that is constructed around me.

I am now back at my room in the putative rooming house. The usual noise onset and bizaare parking behavior in the neighborhood applies. And my "greeter"/gangstalker just inside the front door when I got back. The same "manager" who followed me around with the chocolate bar in his extended arm, pointed toward me.

Perhaps this Christmas break of 4 days at my parents was all about relief from the usual orchestrated noise, and then the perps start it up again as they have, just to test/detect my recall over all their games. "I" wasn't allowed to know at the moment I saw the above "greeter" that he was in fact gangstalking. Only later was "I" allowed to know that. In other words, the perps won't let me access my knowledge of all the gangstalking and harassment games I have come to know and loathe over the past 4.5 years. Fucking scary to say the least.

Anyhow, time to call this a blog posting and revert back to the usual form of nattering on all things orchestrated in exhaustive detail, pervers and improbable as they are.
Noisestalked Words des Jour;

jailed, prison, Keith Urban

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