Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Digging for Perps

I dug the flower bed at my parent's place this morning, and to 1300h, keeping me going as long as possible without lunch. That tends to be the trend. A new green plastic tarp was in place to put the dug up plants on, but that still wasn't good enough. My mother put her blue canvas seat gardening stool on the green plastic tarp (on concrete patio), and sat in the middle of the dug-up plants. Almost like a progressive sentry, there while the plants were assembled around her, and not that she was really there for any engaged purpose. Other diversions were to take some plants out of a ceramic pot, assemble the buried plastic bags, plant tags and bread closures that were "found" in the gardening bed. Regular readers will know the perps have a fixation in gangstalking me with/over concrete and plastic surfaces/materials, except this time, it was in combination with my mother sitting and standing on the plastic tarp on the concrete patio.

The ritual is that I wear my heavy boots to do the gardening job, and have them remain there for future landscaping duties. Even my past gardening gloves "went missing", (had soil contact), and I used my yellowish leather gloves today. That sparked a bullshit run from my mother about getting a tetanus shot, and then pouring over the yellow pages while I was at the table having lunch, and then searching the blue colored government pages, and finally placing the yellow pages partially on the brown bamboo cuttting board and partially on the table. I know that routine, partial surface placement. Then she finally tells me to make my own arrangements to get a tetanus shot, which will be the last of that particular feint, andI doubt that I will hear about this again. As I see it, the entire episode was to have a yellow colored object/material at hand, and add a whole bunch of pointless chatter while I was eating food. Not my usual accompaniment, but it offered a lot more color games than me eating alone. Later yellow color games unfolded on the subsequent bus trip and walk back to my place, one being that I was given $12 as a check, yellow of course.

She dropped me off at the bus stop on a thoroughfare, and soon enough, the freakshow arrived to surround me until the bus came. In summary form, there was the back and forthing Asian woman, the elderly UK accented types in brown colored clothing, the elderly woman in a bright mid-blue who sat beside me on the bus stop bench, the young couple in their indentical sunglasses, a walker act, and maybe one more that I cannot recall. Anyhow, the bus kept up the freakshshow with more "passengers" as the trip unfolded, one being this male blonde weird who sat side-saddle in his seat with his back immediately in front of another "passenger". I have never seen anyone sit so strangely and rudely as this 10x gangstalker did today, but as one can tell, there is more perp audacity of late. The male sentry at the rear bus exit had a pink and white scarf on, and proceeded to get in my way when I told him that I wanted to get off. Fucking rude yet again, this time it was personal.

I noted that my seat on the bus had been marked up with "vandalized" scrawling on the facing seatback, this time in orange color. On the window was a small silver grey grafitti, making me wonder how any "vandal" could access the unattended bus to put 2" high lettering on the windows. Anyhow, I know who the real vandals are, and their handiwork is on every telephone pole on my walking beats, and then some. These serve as color samples for the perps, providing a localized version as I pass by, or in this case, I am seated next to it. It has been very warm today, but one would not know that by looking at the male gangstalkers, those strange dudes loitering around in their toques and shades, seeming not to have a weekday job, and instead, packing the ubiquitous plastic shopping bags around, if not, oversized garbage bags.

I had my contingent ready for me at the apartment lobby when I got back; at least 7 of the fuckers swarming about, one act was on my heels, one at the outside door, another had preceded me, another was lounging around by leaning on the brick wall, the manager was in his glass office, and one accompanied me in the elevator with his stereo gear, two speakers and a component. (Read, magnets, placed near me).

Prior to the gardening at my parent's place, my mother came by to purchase her discount tea downtown, and then have a coffee there. This is the location where the perps appear to be testing out their "abilities" behind the various safety glass panels at this location. Everytime one of them wandered past and into the next room (glass panelled), they had their tongue hanging out, one even making sure I saw the side of it in some bizarre quest. This was the one gangstalker who was "on show" featuring himself at least four times, and nothing about him added up as a customer or a staff member. Anyhow, there was plenty of perp action in the streets to be entertained, and one put on the cripple act and slammed into my mother, for which I was duly controlled to call him an asshole in public. The perps like me to use my long established swearing vocabulary in public, and this was one such set up. There are way too many weirds around for it to be normal, but my mother being the central shill, always seems prepared.

This is the post-dinner harassment moment, always a big one for the perps; tonight it is overhead ceiling slamming, loud mufflered vehicles transiting and some hallway clicking. More excitement for them for whatever reason.

This is the fifth year in sucession where my Statement of Earnings (T4 in Canada), needed for income tax, has not arrived on time. I never had a delay past the end of January before. Even my employer in 2002 made a "mistake" and had to have a new one sent out to yet again delay me in filing and income tax return. It is fucking insane that a billion dollar budget operation has to fuck with my tax filing. Regular readers will know there have been many tax reporting jerkarounds with plenty of players; employers, governments (US and Canada), tax accountant, and ex-wife. I have had four tax return "reassessments" in succession over the same detail, spousal support payments (no more, since I dropped to a lower income level), and have won every time. I never had a single tax reassessment since I began paying tax in about 1973 until the harassment started up. What is with these assholes that they find some kind of gain to pissing with my finances? The only method to enquire is by phone apparently, and likely the real reason for this infernal fuckaround.

Another forced "forget" to post this last night. And a rare 8 hour (normal duration) sleep last night; very curious. And the lone vehicle outside when I opened the curtains was a yellow pickup truck, about the last color any guy would order.

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