Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Laundry Day Freak Show

A "perfect gangstalk" might be the subtitle of going to the laundromat and back. And as I type this, even my nouns are getting noisestalked from overhead clunking, which followed overhead vacuum cleaning.

The perps put two men gangstalkers on me when I got there, one looking very much like a college thought-to-be friend in morphover. He may have been the cretin at my table at the drop-in center yesterday. Both of today's operatives were wearing blue, and lo, if one of the fuckers emerged from a blue and white colored cab, parked outside and visible through the windows. One departed within 20 minutes of my arrival, also looking like a morph-over of someone I knew at work one time.

The other operative continued the Cheers-like banter with Goth Girl, the only attendant on duty today. He wandered all over the laundromat, putting on the roving customer act. For her part, she put her black long coat on a low red colored table in the waiting area, and combed it of pills or embedded fluff. (Totally amateur practice for a laundromat, having the garment draped on the floor in part).

Later, female blonde power came to brighten up the circumstances, she arriving in a black VW Jetta, the preferred pre-2007 style to my aesthetic taste. Later she walked in a back and forth troll with a multi-toned brown shirted male beside her, he owning a gut that was borderline disgusting. No fluke that, and in my model of the perp's games, she was adding "karmic goodness" while associated with a more loathesome demographic (mid age male with a gut), an increasingly common event as regular readers will know. (Typo sabotage).

I was allowed to read McClean's Magazine while at the laundromat, as they finally got some new reading material. And lo, if not five minutes after reading about Canada's top wines, a "customer" arrives and tells Goth Girl about the wine stains on one of her items of clothing. It is fucking sick to keep hounding someone with these orchestrated coincidences all the time. It is fucking depraved to hound anyone; when are these fuckers going to get it?

Once I was done and walking back, the gangstalk show got into full form; they had two classes of children in single file, merging pedestrians 30' apart wearing the same pastel yellow jacket, yesterday's red coat with a dog act was on duty today, two more commute levels of traffic, one inbound, the other outbound, and various others who were out in far greater number than a usual gangstalk morning.

And they still weren't done; when I got back to this putative rooming house, I had interuptions from the manager, two phone messages to deal with, then a pee that forced me out of my room, which suddenly abated while someone else got in ahead of me into the bathroom while talking to the manager again, and two more regular operatives "came by" from their pals walk. As it turned out, I didn't need to take a pee for at least an hour longer, an event that has never happened until I found out this was remotely controllable.

The overhead vacuuming started up again, just to keep up the noise show and whatever other benefits that accrue from sucking air and related vortex configurations. Amazing, for a 100 sq. ft. of room/living space, twice in 40 minutes

The overhead squeaking and pounding has started up to noisestalk me reading my email; the email was from my ex, and details our daughter's trip to Florida, and her driving my former vehicle, the one I gave to her. Somehow, she got 3 months of vehicle insurance when I was told that one cannot get it for less than six months. This province has a single vehicle insurer for liability and basic; no lawyer fights in that case.

After 10 minutes of quiet, more overhead clunking erupts the instant I read the words "mind-control"

An hour nap followed by wall pounding and other noise. I was also scripted for sneezing, and there has been an increase of this of late, and no causal condition. The sneezes are being scripted at the oddest of moments, and I am getting pissed over this intrusion.

More coughing outside my door. Funny how it is timed for when I am reading about remotely applied harassment.

Now that the perps can mess with recall and have near 100% mind control, I don't find it too surprising that some confessionals over 9/11 have come forward from one or two prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. They can now plant this on anybody, any scenario they want. One also has to wonder why these confessions have only arisen of late, and not earlier. Call it confession planting upon ready culprits-to-be.

Another suck job; the vacuum cleaner outside my door. I have heard enough of that fucking thing today, and I even get chased on the street with the same devices mounted on a truck cleaning drains.

The maser zingers are getting annoying, the fuzzy black balls that flit about in my field of view, and some of these are making sweeping arcs around objects, such as the LCD display as I type.

I am getting more of the cease hostilities bullshit by way of mind-fuck insertions, the "promise" that they are going to free me from this criminality, but as before, that has happened before, and I am getting pissed with this drivel that they spew into my mind. The perps are way too sick to give me up to some arbitrary deadline, not when the fuckers have 53 years worth of it.

More travelling is occuring among friends and family; my daughter, parents, ex-wife, thought-to-be friend from high school days, case worker and yoga instructor have recently been, are or are going to be travelling in the next month or so. In some cases they are covering my old tracks, e.g. Seattle, in other cases, it is a family event. This travel coincidence is not new, but there is a spate of it of late, and they all like to tell me about it, possibly to rub it in, as I haven't had an away holiday for over a decade.

A resumed phone call with a TI in a nearby city; she is on the "ignore it" path, and believes in applying the "law of attraction" and has seen the numbers of gangstalkers diminish. She gave me her pep talk, and even suggested that I give up this blog and all the reportage of the perp events and stunts. And, oddly, I don't know what to make of it, as I have no choice in how I react, and in the past, have noted how my reaction has not been in emotional synchrony with how I felt. And that translates to mind control, IMHO. And if I am gangstalked and controlled to infinitely small detailed levels at each second, how am I to exercise free will when I never had it? I am supposed to call upon my guardian angels she tells me. So they can be fucked with, or is this another level of submission to be taken to, as if being a lifelong doormat wasn't enough. I have a "who knows" reaction.

This was the resumption of the call last night that was truncated, and it has some elements of being perp based, though I do believe her gangstalking experiences. I will consign this to the "don't know" realm, and there have been some individuals who have acted in ways that fit the profile of perp purposes.

In 2001 a co-worker lended me a book by Sylvia Browne on guardian angels and I found it fascinating, though she never talked about the book's contents with me. Most people "complete" on discussing a lent book's contents in some way, but she never did. All that does make me wonder about the guardian angel "thing", though I am at a loss to understand any more details. More pondering is needed as to what she talked about, and didn't want to hear about, and also past connections and various themes that were dropped, e.g. "go to the library and get....". Very strange this one, as I haven't been there for four years, and haven't "felt like it", which is code for being mind controlled.

The notion of two competing harassment factions has crossed my mind in the past, but if so, both act the same, and appear to benefit from the same activities. But, enough speculation, the perps are sick assholes who should be collectively euthanized for the betterment of mankind. Only depraved nutters would fuck with someone ad nauseum for five straight years after 47 years of covert fucking the same victim.

I have relative peace and quiet save some tapping noise that erupts when I read names of musicians as I tour folk music web sites. No ostensible cause of course, but impeccable timing as always. The masers are very active, also flying off the LCD display from the musician's name even as I encounter it when reading. More well timed fuckery for me to deal with. And some vision impairments that always make me so happy.

I have loaded enough venom into this today, and refuted the advice I got over the phone (above) completely by getting furious with the typo fuckery that has plagued me all day, and in my world of unallowed reflection, will contemplate what sick minded bullshit will await me tomorrow.

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