Friday, October 26, 2007

Plasma Assaults

A late start for daily blogging the harassment games, but I had some real work to do, albeit without any pay, and doubtless for the perp's cause.

It was the continuation of Wednesday's work, (two days ago), and removal of a cottonwood tree stump from their backyard to prevent further suckering of shoots from the roots, having been cut down six months ago. The work of Wednesday was preceded by an all-night of no sleep, another imposition of the perps IMHO.

The first part of today's activities was getting there, and it "so happened" my in-town brother was in the neighborhood when I phoned him this morning about bringing his chain saw to aid in large root severing. Never one to turn down a ride to avoid the freakshow that every public bus trip becomes, I accepted his offer after a go-round with some dumbshit ideas he had about meeting elsewhere. As it so happened, he scored bigtime on some artwork he bought at a garage sale, and he stopped off at the autioneer's to collect the money in the form of cash. I was beside him when it was counted out, and the perps have an obsession about me seeing and handling money, so I can only assume this was part of the scripted show.

While this was going on, the perps slipped in a red coated negro woman (read, gangstalker) in a strange hairdo, the name of which I am not allowed to recall. She stood around for a minute or so, and then drifted off, and in the process I found my attention was directed to see her in a mirror reflection, and then a window reflection. Anyhow, when this was done, she was gone, and that gangstalk episode was over.

Then another stop at the infamous, to me at least, Oak Bay junction, where the physical assault of last week (10-18-2007) took place. As it "so happened" my brother pulled into a parking stall to unload a piece of brown colored furniture to a store there, and lo, if the store assistant wasn't a blonde woman in some fugly iridescent brown colored pants, and a light grey jacket. A few more brown paint cans that "happened" to be in my brother's van got snagged and moved in the process, and after a few minutes, that job was done. And it should be noted that on the day of the physical assault, the parking stall that my brother's van was located was occupied by a blood red van, one of two that were parked in file ahead of a white van, which was immediately in front of white police van, when they came after my call from the convenience store. All very interesting to say the least, these designed coincidences.

And plenty of noisestalking while I wrote the above paragraph, as well as the need to consult my appointment diary that "somehow" got left in my briefcase from yesterday's appointment. Funny how "I" remembered to take one item out when I got back, but not the other. Now more coughing in the hallway to add to the interuptions, and now plasma games on this LCD display as I type.

Back to the intended harassment highlight of the day, the plasma assaults. My brother and I went to my parent's place to drop me and his chainsaw off, and after a whole lot of screwing around, he got it going. The root was cut in no time, and after some "planning" discussions, we decided to leave the chain saw at my parent's place, as there was the possibility of me needing it later. This scene with him involved extra trips from the front yard to the backyard, one with the chainsaw running for chrissakes. Then another needless trip for him to "inspect" what I was doing, when he could of done this the first time when making the trip with the running chainsaw. Freaking weird his behavior at times, and getting worse.

Then my brother departed and then my parents came, and wanted to see my diggings, which was fair enough. Just before lunch I got the entire stump removed, and a sudden onset of my eyeglasses fogging up and sweat beads running down them forced me to go inside earlier.

Then lunch, and the usual food playing games my father puts on, all to substantiate his dementia "cred". And the usual games of laying it on extra thick, pretending not to know that I was working on tree stump removal on his own property. A diaspora of red objects was in my visual field in the form of a napkin set packaging, tomato, teapot, cookie packaging and a few more were arranged for me to see for the entire lunchtime. And to no surprise, my father got into playing with the tomatoes, moving the plate around for pointless reasons, playing with them and attempting to place the skins on his fork, and a bunch of other games that were borderline disgusting.

After lunch, when I got back to the tree stump removal, and pulling out the extended root system, the perps laid on this debilitating plasma beam activity, having the colors altered, then dithered, then a vortex of color in my central vision, and there was no way to shake it. As part of the deal, the perps have me yell about it, and lo, if my father wasn't within earshot, and put on his "what-what" routine, this three decades long bullshit exercise in not understanding plain English language, and forcing repeats of everything I say. After me telling him that there were plasma beam assaults, and that he knows who is doing this, he fucked out of there pretty fast, at total odds with his normal obdurate way of seeking every last detail. He "somehow" knew what the moment was to then immediately depart while having a purported dementia condition.

I had masers and plasma beams, particularly red flashes, emanating from the tree stump hole, while I was digging out the roots, and the rest of the related activities for the first ten minutes after getting back to the job after the lunchtime break. In all, I could barely function, and I wasn't allowed to know what all the phenomenon were doing or what was happening, as it kept me from performing the job.

Throughout the tree stump removal job I had plenty of overhead aircraft noise, the ongoing drone noise from last week, the construction percussive noises of hammering, the neighbor noises of vehicle start ups, seagulls mewing and squealing and others. I was also harassed by extra-conventional remotely applied gravitic methods to have me "miss" with my mattick swings, soil eruptions and flickings from roots "springing" back, the chainsaw "fail" to restart, misdirected tosses of roots into the pile of them, and other annoyances to piss me off. It was back to the constant living hell the assholes have kept me in for over 5 years now.

I took the bus back to downtown where my apartment is, and this turned out to be quite the freakshow. I had my "way cool" dude/gangstalker leaning on the bus shelter when I got there, James Dean style, replete with aviatior's sunglasses while at least 150 vehicles coursed by us in various configurations and colors, per usual vehicular harassment games, and eventually the bus came filled with plenty of freaks, the worst case scenario were some apparent Down's Syndrome adults. The perps like to put me through these freakish experiences, and here they were, ready for me on the bus.

I had a bus seat that I wouldn't of ordinarily taken, but as it so "happens", I "somehow" did not recall any of my knowledge as to where to sit to avoid the worst of the perps on-board machinations. The "way cool dude" took a seat on the other side of the rear exit, though on the same side of the bus. Sparing the details of the passenger turnover; nearby plastic bag games, the extra complement of red clothing that was worn, the red hair dye jobs, the extra bleached blonde jobs, and the unfathomable extra number of short tripping passengers, the "way cool dude" came to sit beside me for the latter third of the 25 minute bus trip. What a joke, the same unusual bus passenger at the same departure bus stop separating himself away from where I was sitting, and then "finding" an excuse to later sit beside me. He didn't get off at the same stop, though I would not of been surprised if he had.

There were more freak shows of gangstalkers on the city streets, and I had my now daily altercation of sorts, with a vehicle driver bearing down on me, pretending not to have seen me on the crosswalk. This new habit of the vehicular gangstalkers making direct runs at me on the street has erupted from a once in a while occurence level to a daily one this week. And no less, this dude was on his cell phone while performing this stunt, one of the devices the perps like me to be around on a selective basis.

As with any bus ride, just as if I were driving, there was at least 1,000 mobile vehicles ordered and arranged by color and vehicle type along the entire route, and probably at least that many arranged in the same way while parked in adjacent parking lots and side streets. I got plenty of red color flashes, some "from" the apparent coating on the bus windows, some from the clothes or reflections of them in the windows, and the rest of the full on red color stalking that has increased this week.

And I am getting extra on-street stroboscopic flashes, this under the cover story of the dappled sunlight "flickering" through the trees and branches as the leaves are begining to fall. Yesterday, the perps upped the ante and created this stroboscopic assault under the guise of sunlight passing through a chain link fence. I have been walking on that beat for nearly a year, and never had any problem, never mind before the overt harassment began. As of yesterday, the perps decided that the chainlink fence would be sufficient "cover" for them to create an annoying stroboscopic light effect upon me as I walk beside it. I always wonder who they think they are fooling.

Audio listening; true to form, a forced fuck up to cause the feed to terminate, and then a restart. Same deal with conference calls; the guest gets cut off for a few minutes very often.

Some browsing and video and audio listening; Dr. Nick Begich on mind invasive technologies, both good and bad, and and audio interview with Valerie Plame. In the latter case, she doesn't claim to understand the motivations of the players and what the entire agenda is. I don't either of course, and I wonder how the perps might be using this story, assuming they didn't orchestrate it. I note that they arranged for me to miss the 60 Minutes interview with her last weekend, and lo, if my video links to it went missing. Time to try again.

Enough blogging for today, and time to wind this one up to the sound of yet another siren cascade, at least the tenth one today over two locations.

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