Friday, May 09, 2008

Double Bugged in Bed

The perps have been slowing up all my online access so far today, and that includes getting access to my own blog to post today's dull dissertations.

About half of the regular blogs I visit have been rendered inaccessible for whatever reason; it would seem that the perps are doing some time dependent display games. I does make me wonder what they know about, or do to, all the owners of the blogs I regularly visit.

I got my insect/bugs planted on me before getting out of bed this morning. A brownish one arrived and was duly crushed for extra brown color variations it would seem. And then when making the bed immediately afterward, an orange insect "self-destructed" to spread some orange stain on my pillow. Whether these were ticks or not I don't know, as I wasn't allowed much examination time before my fingers were moved by imposed means. And lo, if I didn't get an orange plasma flash below this LCD display while typing the word "orange". Find an explanation for that you clinical fuckwits.

The perps have been on an planted insect imposition of late; they have given me the creepy-crawlies to simulate and insect walking on my hair, or other places on my head to then "necessitate" rubbing the area with my fingers to alleviate the sensation. Per usual, no insect materializes, and then another round is applied. Very often there is simultaneous noise eruptions at the moment I touch my finger to my head, so it isn't diffcult to figure out what the real agenda is; more remote bioenergetics study, which is always aided by scripted self-touching. Hence so many of the public gangstalkers rubbing their heads, noses, and even their crotches. (The latter applies to males only so far). In fact, they even exhibit the same kind of trained "scratching"; more than one has touched their finger to the side of their nose and held it there for some five seconds or more, and not even attempted to make it look like itch alleviation. This little "secret sign" has been noted by other TI's.

The operatives and other gangstalkers also like to wave their arms around, doing pointing and waving, a sure tip-off that they are not really expressive, but that they have others reasons to do so. Even my family members have this "habit" now, especially waving their hands in front of their faces. I reckon that the perps have a difficulty in remotely reading the armpit areas, and need their shills to expose them, rather than me. It is the same for mouth contents and crotches; the perps cannot get enough public exposure of these areas to satiate their quest for remotely determined bioenergetic information. That is my theory, and it may well be supplied in mind by the perps, though all the the continued public perp behavior seems to substantiate this.

Today looks to be a shut-in day; no returned phone calls, no non-spam emails, and the rest of the social interaction takedown measures. And to no surprise, the noisescape has been elevated and timed for specific theme words, forced typos and their repair, plasma flash coordination, hallway voices and other imposed events.

Back to gasoline and oil tanker trucks. Over the last three days I have had exposure to this form of transport vehicle each day. There were at least three events on Tuesday, the "highlight" being the tanker and pup trailer that went over the middle of a roundabout. There was another heating oil tanker on Wednesday when waiting at the bus shelter after the dental appointment with my two gangstalking pals. And then yesterday, Thursday, they put on an tanker and pup trailer at the rebuilt gasoline station on my walk to the gym. This gasoline station was rebuilt right down to blasting rock out to accomodate the new flat bottomed gasoline tanks, and I reckon it was intended that I get to see most of the action and the objects as the rebuild progressed over the fall and winter. It is operating again, now for at least two months, and appears to look like any other suburban fueling station. Other related events were filling up my parent's vehicle with a full tank at the Chevron station, as they are the only vendor with 94 octane that my former Volvo liked to run on. I am quite certain that the perps' obsession over petroleum products is not over by a long shot, but it is interesting to see that they are onto a sustained effort to expose me to this facet of their sick-minded life rape campaign.

No more pictures today, the last of the batch was put up yesterday. The perps have me "forget" to bring my camera everytime now, and so it is only "bait" shots from my balcony that I get to take. This is where they want me to go outside momentarily for some kind of inside/outside bioenergetic comparisons along with their obsessions related to concrete interactions. The perps seem to have finished up most of the roadworks on my walking beat, even if they removed asphalt that has only been in place for a week. Yesterday, as one of the four vehicle-on-sidewalk events they arranged for me, they had a 10 tonne flatbed truck with an onboard crane delivering pallets of asphalt shingles to an adjacent house, the boom being overhead. Regular readers will know that the perps script boom trucks to operate in my proximity almost every week, sometimes clustering them in quantities of four "on a job". They will even script a boom truck at an intersection for the "worker" to look as if he is upgrading the traffic lights, and of course there was no prior problem, nor any noticeable upgrade. This is to have me walk underneath the steel boom, and an abiding consistency of the perps to arrange large mass objects around me; steel beams and booms, tractor trailer loads of metals, a pallet carrier with a 4' office safe on the sidewalk, and many other stunts and outrages, never mind the streetworks that would bring on backhoes, frontend loaders, large dumptrucks and pup trailers etc.

Still no return phone calls, so it will be a dull weekend it seems. And even the email spammers stopped. The last few hours were spent web surfing with vision impairments and slowly increasing outside vehicle traffic noise. Perhaps it is time to do some book reading, a rare activity in this netherworld of controlled actions, as it seems the LCD display is used to pump some kind of energy toward me, especially off names, places and other proper nouns. It is as if something silvery lifts off the screen, exactly where someone's name is, whether it it familiar or not. It would seem the perps are doing some kind of comparison, hence their need to keep me clueless as to what is going on, the corollary being that others don't choose to explain something very well, omitting key information.

Another overhead clunk with a simultaneous zapping, the first of the day. These assaults seem to be a late day or evening stunt for whatever reason. That "prompted" me to yell at the assholes, and now, a sudden noise flurry as I type up this complaint.

The noisy serial train since I had dinner at 1700h has finally abated. Now, the overhead clunking noise has arrived for the rest of the evening, hopefully without a zapping, the key to instant rage. And I am being kept on the boredom track, revisiting websites I had read before lunch, no doubt providing some kind of neural bioenergetics color calibration during this dusk onset time. I see the "spot" has arrived, that highly anomalous faux reflection off the opposite residential tower that has an unerring knack in illuminating my apartment. I supplied some photos of it in the past five day's blogs; the "spot" has moved up two floors, and it coming in just above my balcony window frame and cannot be directly seen any more from where I am sitting at my desk. Strangely, the light reaches the full length of my apartment, all the way to the front door. It seems this eveningtime stunt has some potential as the perps are sticking with it, and even modifying the coverage of the "reflection". They especially like to cast deep contrast shadows on my keyboard, which they are doing as I type this. And of course, there are plenty of forced lookings at the keyboard owing to ongoing typo sabotage. And I see the background clouds have greyed in some more, almost a light blue even. Even cloud greyscale is manipulated whenever I am out, and I would not doubt that it is happening now.

I was allowed to do some book reading from Dark Mission, but the perps won't allow more than five minutes at a time before pissing me off with maser games in my central vision. The permitted book reading preceded and anteceded dinner, likely as some kind of color and material (paper) reference as to the bioenergetic changes that eating diner may incur. The perps routinely have their operatives gangstalking with paper in their hands, usually ahead of me, and have extended this to include light brown envelopes and yellowish parcel-like envelopes. Even newspapers seem to be used as a kind of portable reference; just to think that I delivered newspapers for two years, and would invariably read one after delivery and before breakfast. And here they are still, hounding me over the same things, searching for some kind of exotic energies without the gumption to show up in person, and instead, engage in this scurilous life-rape campaign and orchestrating even the smallest of street litter and the expressions on anyone I deal with. Fucking outrageous, and indicative of derangement beyond comprehension.

A thundering overhead noise started up when I was in the bathroom extracting a brown crumb that had mysteriously stuck on my face, and then when removed, "somehow" lodged itself under a fingernail. it was only when removing it from my fingernail did the overhead clunking erupt. This the same overhead clunking that "happens" overhead when at my desk, in the kitchen and in bed, before sleep. I had just finished taking my first pee of the day, and both the toilet and the faucet were still running. It is very clear that the perps like to "piggyback" their fuckery on familiar noises, e.g. water running, so the noises, water motion from two sources was just the prescribed confluence of events to play some noise games over a freaking brown crumb they stuck on my face for the last two and a half hours. As one can surmise, the smallest things are the biggest events for the perps, and it gets worse from there.

An eruption of a round of increased swallowing with augmented noise as well as plasma beams jumping off the LCD display while I was reading about neutrinos here. Like I say, just about everything is of interest, and the perps find their own fuckery methods the most fascinating of all. Funny how they like to affirm their activities. And even typing this paragraph brought on the fake bus noise, overhead clunking and the notorious Harley Davidson motorcycle noise, as if there was even a street to run them that fast in this neighborhood, which there isn't.

More listening of Project Camelot, Luca Scantamburlo talking about Planet X, and his source who had conferences with whistleblowing Jesuits. Some of the more interesting details I thought were that the Vatican has its own secret service, a collaborative telescope operation with the University of Arizona, its own space probe and a radio communication post in Alaska. Who would of thought that the Vatican was up to all this skullduggery? And of course, with the headphones on, I get additonal loud mufflered vehicle noise from outside, as if there was a racetrack, which there isn't.

I see my favorite music station, has been rendered as "unavailible" tonight; part of the ongoing fuckery that has become my life. More rip roaring hotrod noise erupts as I type up this complaint. I suppose the perps find an advantage in me wearing headphones for short durations, as they contain magnets, one of their remote assay methods and very likely the form of the radiation they beam at me. I noticed, or more like, the perps arranged for me to see my teeth after the dental appointment two days ago. The perps have colored my teeth to a near deep yellow, and I am fucking pissed about this. As it "so happens" my teeth aren't readily revealed when I smile, rare as it is, and I can imagine this eventuality was planned for long ago.

Time to blog off for the day and call this dull day done, only to have another one, all for some depraved despotic cause of which I am the least knowledgeable and the most involved, without consent. Not bad for a supposed free country.

Now street whistling and howling has erupted as I am doing some subsequent reading on Planet X. The whistling events in my life became more frequent by an order of magnitude since the harassment started, and mostly it is bad whistling which seems to be prefered.

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