Chocolate as a Perp Highlight

1510h
All regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed over the color brown and take no end of liberties to ensure that I get plenty of exposure to this color. One method they have is to control my "need" for chocolate, something they do to the tune of $120 per month in 100g bars, twice I day. I cannot, or am not allowed to refrain, and I never had this problem before they struck me with overt harassment in 2002.

Therefore it is no surprise that the perps arrange 100g of chocolate for breakfast, and then again at a mid afternoon teatime. And of course, noisestalking and other planted phenomenon from their repetoire of stunts. Today it was the hallway originating sound of the apartment manager walking and talking by, and then doing his pre-apartment entry statement of intention to enter. And of course it is timed just when the first piece is in hand, and later when I have refilled my mug to eat the final last section. On the scale of impositional harassment, this is fairly low, and this is more to demonstrate the games that go on with specific colors and associated neural response to the impositions at the same circumstance. And for typing that, I just got nailed with a zapping and an coincident overhead pounding noise. Funny how these phenomen erupt just when I might be doing some thinking for myself instead of being a vehicle for this grotesque depravity called nonconsensual mind control research.

Anyhow, it would seem that the perps are working on some kind of male - female association that I might make with persons, especially when reading blogs. If I know the author to be female, the perps block that knowledge and replace it with the planted notion the author is male, and then when in mid-read, they let me in on what I do know, and would not forget. Call it thought substitution, and from their perspective, the more incorrect the planted notion, the better they like it. Other games include planting totally incorrect recall, something I never do, and have it play as if it was correct, and then later let me access the knowledge that I do have. It is fucking outrageous that I am not allowed access to my own thoughts.

And I see that my usual call into a regular volunteer bureau will be arranged to have a male, instead of the woman who runs the operation and whom I have met. Obviously, this stunt/obsession has a long way to go, and it might relate to the Unfavored demographic groups, one being adult males, the likely perpetrators of traumatizations in the 1950's. This is the scenario the perps have planted at least, though much of their gangstalking revolves around this concept, and that the membership is relatively consistent. There has been no end of shiftless loitering males in the ambulatory gangstalker cast for the past few weeks, something I have remarked on before, and it is not entirely the vagrant acts by any means. It is plain fucking strange to have two middle aged MIB's in the elevator lobby in this apartment block, mostly consisting of studio warrens for the student population. That was yesterday's opening gangstalking display, and having them both on cell phones was another absurdity, all for the localized and greater electromagnetic field and associated vocalizations of male voices it would seem. And one was a skinhead no less, the most disgusting hair cover going.

I have yet to buy the perps line that the male skinhead act is to replicate long ago traumatizations related to seeing aliens when I was very young. As regular readers will know, the perps seem to be attempting to create subconscious reactions/recall to subconscious traumatizations recall related to their past nefarious deeds and subsequent memory deletion fuckery. They also have their gangstalkers wear hoodies over their heads, even when unneeded, again, simulating a more alien like body form in part. I don't know if I saw any aliens, and I don't care. I want to be left alone and not have this constant parade of freaks and freakishness going on around me. It is not my problem, so why am I being hounded over some other agency's grevious fuckups of the long past?

The only answer I get to that is a clunk and a maser spot exactly over where I am typing. Not good enough from the assholes who have likely governed my every breath and food intake. It is their problem and does not need me in any way; why don't they fuck their own instead of life-raping innocent citizens for six years and counting?

Today looks to be a shut-in day, as are most Wednesdays of late. I don't know why they have this schedule of inaction for me, but it is consistent with the long past, the pre-2002 overt harassment days even. It is just plain fucking tiresome, having nothing much to do. If I attempted to read a book off script, they would dither my reading to prevent it from happening. If I attempted to go for a walk they would swarm me and make the event pointless. As mentioned in past blogs, there has been employer arranged lapses in their project plans where nothing was scheduled, due to the
conditions under their control.

1840h
I am being beamed upon, noted in past blogs at dusk onset.. The last post with pictures showed the three buildings that are used as putative reflection sources, though I suspect it is the perps pulling their plasma lighting tricks again. This means that a seeming sunlight beam is coming through the window and lighting up my keyboard as I type. Some shadow flashes are also being displayed; these are where a momentary darkness flashes in my apartment. I don't know of any conventional physical cover story that could account for that, as anything is possible diven the apparent control over materiality and physicality that is routine around me.

The horrendous Harley Davidson motorcycle noises were started up for 20 minutes before dinner, and continued for at least 40 minutes afterward. I reckon some neural noisetracking was the reason for this, as it seems that food digestion is a problematic juncture for the perps. It may be the color of the food and the stomach contents and of course the ongoing digestive processes. Again, it is not my problem so why am I the poster boy for remotely applied abuse?

This time I get the faux dog barking noise as an answer; there are no residential properties around here that would have dogs, and so the prospect is remote that there is a walked dog that barks with such unerring timing. I am also getting more plasma flashed at me today; little augmentations to the shape or color of something in peripherial vision and when I move my gaze to my central vision, the plasma augmentation activity is immediately stopped. One is not allowed to know what they are seeing in perpworld, this unconventional hell that I have been cast into. And of course the abettance of all whom I meet and have known; they were in on the abuse when I came to know them, and of course never said anything. Only once was I allowed a hint; while at a casual lunch, my then boss said, "trust no one". And of course I was not allowed any analytical thought to question such a draconian perspective, and was left pondering this statement ever since. Once this constant hell was made known to me, that remark mader perfect sense. And of course I am not allowed to follow that advice and am routinely controlled to "forget" and interact with the quisling community that runs river deep in this city. There must be other TI's here that are being kept from me, as I cannot see how the perps can justify a whole city takeover for one harassment subject.

1910h
A horrific loud mufflered vehicle noise erupted as I changed web pages; it is most strange how they can erupt without any prior warning of approach.

2110h
A very loud ripping Harley Davidson motorcycle noise erupted after having the headphones on for all of 30 seconds. This repeats the timing of such intrusive noise in coordination with the same activity.

2230h
I have been listening to music samples on CD Baby. The samples are tactically ended as I do the usual noisestalked activities of copy, cut, paste, bookmark, selecting a new web page, visiting the bookmark manager etc. Someone is timing the interuption of music, i.e. the end of the sample, at the instant I perform these minutae that are of abiding interest to the perps.

And now the knee torquing torture is upon me. Time to blog off on this dull shut-in day and call it done.