Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Freakshow Central

I went to a casual labor agency today; and lo, if it wasn't the biggest freakshow as to mental cretins and other actors of this stage managed life. This charade started when I was in the waiting room, and the person I was to see was running late. Many of the Unfavored demographic group members were there; mental cases, irregular behaviored, monster gutted dudes, unkempt and wildly bearded, the brown skins, the brown shirts and a few others. It was mostly males, another of the Unfavored group that the perps wish me to visit often. The final kicker was when I headed back to my place, and lo, there was a male Asian wheelchair act, but instead of going forward (oncoming) he went backwards for no reason, in lead-ahead gangstalk mode. And I do loathe the sight of wheelchairs and like assistive medical devices, motorized wheel chairs, walkers and crutches. This wheelchair act made for three Unfavored demographic groups rolled up as one; brown skinned, wheelchair and male. I have never seen so many wheelchairs going on in this city until the harassment started in 2002. Check out the Favored and Unfavored blog posting to the right to get the background on this significant topic that is part of the harassment objectives.

Anyhow, the casual labor pool may become the focus for 2008; being exposed to many differing jobs to suit the harassment objectives. They cannot get enough loud colors around me for long enough it seems, if yesterday's blatantly loitering operatives hanging around me at the gym yesterday is any example. Last week I saw the brightest day-glo jacket ever; entirely a pinkish dayglo color in two fabrics with some minor tone differences between them. And no less, it was on a Down's syndrome looking gangstalker, though that could of been a morphover of a real operative.

The outside street ripping has been in progress all day today, and serves as a reason to have many dump trucks circulating in this neighborhood, noise and all. There must be something to having me see exposed soil, as this is a dominant theme in the harassment games. I worked on enough gravel roads in my forestry days, and even laid out roads, so I cannot understand what the perp's preoccupation is as to exposing me to their diggings.

I am doing some reading on extraterrestrials and the author's experiences, Richard Boylan, tonight. I have got a few overhead poundings, and one very loud one, possibly with a zapping, immediately following eating a brown colored gluten free breakfast bar that should not be eaten for the high carbohydrate content. It was another freebie food item from my mother over the holidays. The plasma and maser vision impairments have been constant, but at a lower background level, nothing too disruptive tonight. The wind has been howling, and the perps had me put my deep olive green sweater on, the fourth evening in succession. Which means that they are testing more complex color combinations, as it would be the first time in over three years that I have worn a sweater over a shirt.

I am getting more of the micro-zappings on my left side tonight, similar to last night. They are like sharp touches, but not a jab, and have been "normally" arranged to come from the armrest of my chair. Forcing me to take my arm off this comfy position isn't enough of an annoyance it seems, as these micro-zappings now occur as if from no apparent source, out of nowhere. I am also getting them in my side as well, not just in my left arm. As a complement to that, I also get small tuggings of my shirt, mainly on my back; enough to notice, but not a micro-zapping. It is just one more example of being fucked with, and that the status quo of depravity isn't sufficient in the perps' eyes.

The infernal knee torquing torture has been started up again; this is the rotation of the lower part of my knee to then cause pain in my knee. The pain can be relieved by lifting my foot up, but it always means shifting about to continue avoiding the discomfort.

Time to post this; I was screwed with in "forgetting" last night.

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