Monday, June 25, 2007

Getting the Red Out

I am back online after running errands in my parent's vehicle, as their PC has a memory problem that spans multiple applications. That was Sunday when I looked at it, and since I stayed over there that night, and my father goes to a daycare for Alzheimer's patients on Mondays, it all worked out so conveniently for me to aid in driving my mother to a few locations, and to serve as gangstalking bait for the many hundreds, if not, thousands of gangstalking vehicles on duty today.

There were two instances of eight red vehicles at a glance, and to no suprise, they had them arranged as parked vehicles all about the computer service shop. And it was just red vehicles on the other side of the road; three in file on the street parking, another at a 90 degree angle to them, and at least three customer vehicles at the Ford dealership (I don't count car lot vehicles), and another one on the street. And behind me, another red vehicle.

We went to the post office down the street, and of course all the livery, counter and floor color are in red, and the cashier in pink pants. There were at least two more red vehicles parked outside in red, and then onto Red Robin for lunch. It has been at least 15 years since I had been to this particular location in town, and true to their name, they had red floor covering, red seats, red table tops and red dressed employees. Then onto the menu, though also with blue and yellow. Anyhow, I was duly given my red fix by the perps today.

And they did go with at least three young blonde women around me, one being the waitress, and another being a proximate customer with a black hoodie, pink cell phone and talking very loudly on it too. Call it "blonde aura", as it seems the perps want me to be receptive to all things red as I am about blonde hair. The things that they teach me, especially when I was never aware that I was adverse to specific colors in the first place, before they revealed this agenda theme.

And I should back up my suggestion (above) that there may have been thousands of gangstalking vehicles on duty. To be fair, I don't know for sure. My mother and I were sitting at the Red Robin restaurant which is beside a six lane artery plus left turn lanes, and every time I looked out, there were formations of traffic (in tight groups defined by size, vehicle type and color), and we were there for nearly an hour. Whether this was gangstalking of vehicles through the wall and the glass I cannot be certain, but all I know is that there is never that much traffic on Blanshard St. at mid-day. And of course, I also know that there are no coincidences in my life.

And I was, and still am, being spaced out today, and the only reason must be that the assholes are up to remotely applied temporal lobe (brain region) de-energization. And I am getting extremely pissed at this, as this is another new imposition, and I don't like having my cognition being fucked with any more that "usual". That meaning, the learning disabilities I have already been given, since 1960 when they were first identified.

The seventh siren cascade this afternoon just finished. And just before, a sudden overhead pounding (noise only, as the ceiling is 4" of concrete), and me yelling at the assholes again, all to "tune me up" it would seem.

The perps backed off on the floaty sensations after I had tea, but they are still spacing me out as to logical thought and continuity. This is a high intervention day, that being disruption and downgrade of normal thought processes. And of interest, my ability to recall useless or vaguely associated trivia has increased substantially this past month, which tels me one thing, that someone else is supplying the memories for me. Fucking sick, this ongoing harassment at the hands of the most thankless psychopathic organizations in existence. And no way out.

Now that dinner is undergoing digestion, the sirens have started up again, and the overhead pounding is also going on. As always, how could anyone cause 4" concrete and steel floors to pound and vibrate except with mechanical, or extra-conventional, means.

And I am getting more of the "floaty" sensations, as it seems today is a serious harassment extenuation effort. I will call it now; one hour minimum of lying awake with plenty of "turnover" before being allowed to sleep.

My PC technician didn't come as arranged. This is to repair the sound, as I cannot get any from video or other like data form which occured when the PC was taken in to get its two hard drives replaced. When I explained the history, and that two hard drives simultaneously failed, of differing makes and ages (one under warranty even), he found that hard to believe. And my allowed line was to say something to the effect that there are many more glitchy things happening in my life, and that is but one example.

As it "somehow" took me weeks to pull the in-building PC technician's phone number from his poster on the building's information board, I cannot believe that the above conversation wasn't scripted, and that his no-show wasn't too. Early in the harassment game in 2002, some resources I employed to apply diligence to research or investigate made later excuses as to why they couldn't deliver. My take on that failing performance was that that someone monitoring my phone calls "got to them". It was at least 18 months later when I came to understand that the breadth and depth of mind-control was fixed to appear that way, and I am quite positive that my "intuition" was in fact scripted and planted to feed the notion that I was being followed more than led.

I got a sudden need to shut down the PC, and lo, if I wasn't mind-controlled to take a crap, one of the perp's most cherished harassment situations they curse me with. I say mind-controlled in this instance, as I had none of the usual physiologic sensations to signal this need. I got an average level of harassment; two plungings and a shower to clean up. I also got stroboscoped with a white flash while engaged in the activity, something that always seems to get me riled up.

I am getting some more bizarre modifications to the appearence of text on my PC; all open sessions have a new thinner font, a differing blank space to line width proportion. And I am getting vision impairments into the deal as well, never mind the constant noise of loud vehicles trailing off into the distance.

This is while I am entranced with alien stories of a long ago editor Ron Rummel of the Alien Digest who was murdered. That is a real issue for alien and alien abduction researchers, that their work may displease the subjects. Years ago, as a teenager I would read about strange events, the Bermuda Triangle and ghost ships being introduced into popular culture. Now, knowing that there are the perps, or The Powers That Be, it all begins to make sense as to a causal agency.

Anyhow, today has been a high-intrusion weirdness day, and it is time to blog off and hope that it doesn't repeat tomorrow.

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