What it Takes to Create a Posting

2115h
Another day of hard labor digging daffodil bulbs, this time the perps laid off on so much of the "bushed" reaction, and I am reasonably together tonight.

Getting back to the title of this blog posting, I had to go through two clickings to get the Firefox Bookmarks "show up" (selection list popup), and then two more clickings on the blogger as it self closed itself, and then finally, I was allowed to access my own blog.

I am getting a severe case of the forehead numbing torture tonight, relieved for all of 20 seconds by rubbing my head before the assholes restart the fuckery. This is a quasi-emulation of wearing a hat, which I did all day while out in the sun digging bulbs.

There were many more gangstalkings and harassment games, the most intense was the assholes who jumped all over me when laundering my clothes from today's outing. I had just showered and washed my hair, and then I attended to getting the laundry on, and there was one dude in the hallway putting on the chat act with another dude who kept his door open to be highly backlighted such that I could not see his face. (And there may have been some supporting plasmic fuckery involved as there so often is when they want to portray the Unfavored with the minimum of visual attributes; to tighten down what I find so subconsciously disagreeable about the Unfavored).

Then, the talking dude "happened" to need access to the laundry room at the same time as I did, and before I could get the door open, out popped three gangstalkers from the elevator which were coming my direction. Anyhow, I was first in the tight laundry room, and the dude followed me in to then declare he was going to start a laundry load, when he had one that just had finished. This was a feint to put his coins in the coin slot ahead of me. Then he "changed his mind" and decided to put his clothes in the dryer after taking them out of the washing machine. He got his load sorted out, and then I could proceed with mine.

I came back 30 minutes later to find the washing machine still running, albeit in its final rinse spin. Regular readers will know how the perps like me and other TI's to be around spinning objects, and this was no exception. The laundry has been incrementally taking a minute or two longer over the past few weeks on the same setting.

Then when the load was done, and I hung it up in the bathroom to dry as most of it was synthetics, I headed off to do the Chicken Run, one of the most highly gangstalked grocery shopping events when I buy hot cooked chicken to then eat of the bone for the first meal, and then use it as a source of cooked chicken to make tortillas, my one and only permitted menu item that I make "myself", now running for over five years of this bullshit.

At the supermarket, the gangstalkers and freakshow was all arranged for me, and was at a moderate level; there was only one bag of hot cooked chicken "remaining" at that time, and I was obliged to take it against my instincts, but it was the correct portion, and the assholes had me over a barrel, as the replacement sausages were on the fugly side. And lo, if I didnt' get the woman cashier with a double armfull of fugly tattoos on show. Did I not say how much I loathe the sight of tatoos in the past two postings and yet again it "happens". If I don't like the sight of tatoos, why do I have a phalanx of fuckwits chasing me all over the fucking city and hinterland with tatoos on display? Why cannot I be left alone to loathe tatoos? And of course tatoos was part of the crew banter I "overheard" today, just to rub it in.

I had at least 20 black plastic bags in two locations for my three minute walk to the supermarket, which was an ehancement to when I entered the building after returning earlier. The manager in a freaking red shirt was posted at the open door with the plastic bags at his feet, and was talking to another gangstalker, keeping the door open as I walked through. Later, the same plastic bags were located outside the building for my return trip to the supermarket on the Chicken Run/ A second row of black plastic garbage bags was also arranged some 60' further with a vertical stack of flattened brown cardboard boxes. And lo, if there wasn't yet another stack of cardboard boxes at the chocolate section where they also put on two additonal gangstalkers. Regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed over the color brown and in exposing me to it in a metered and incrementally accretive manner for each location that I spend any time in, or for even passing by.

There was a bigger bulb picking crew on today, and I got more multicultural dosage from the perps. Translated, that means placing brown skin race individuals around me, and again, in a metered fashion. Though today they were bold in putting the crew negro next to me, who then went onto tapping the plastic seatback in front of him for the entire journey. No more of that shit, I get on the bus last.

Then I got the East Indian turban act in the seat in front of me, also testing my tolerance to specific colors by being a puke brown colored turban that had me looking out the side window for most of the outbound journey.

At the marshalling area I got the attractive blonde woman standing around some 8' away while they paraded the brown skinned dudes behind her, as if in her auric penumbra. Or, another interpretation, more peekaboo games in hiding the Unfavored (dudes, brown skinned) behind the Favored (blonde attractive woman). And of the 20 bulb pickers, some six of the males were wearing bright red shirts. One took his off early in the day and parked the shirt nearby, and then periodically circulated around me for the remainder of the day, all the way to quitting time. It would seem this shirtless dude was on "residual red energetics duty", as if there was some latent effect of wearing a red shirt that he was testing my subconscious reaction to. Although he was Caucasian, his skin was very brown, and so it would seem an additional parameters of skin and race were added into the harassment/nonconsensual human experimentation mix. Me being the subject of course; I never signed up for any of this, and am utterly pissed beyond measure that all my personal details are not only the basis of this substantial experimentation effort, but must be known to thousands of the fucking shills, quislings and operatives,- the collective scum.

The East Indian kid was putting on the stare at least four times through the day, and was continuing his fucking loitering around me for no substantive reason, and even looped around me on a pointless parade, save coordinated harassment and gangstalking. That he was in a red shirt again, as he was four days ago just might have been a coincidence. At least the turbaned grandfather act to visit him in midfield wasn't put on again.

As background noise, the perps put on plenty of aircraft noise, and had the Helijets flying overhead, though, I do not know what their normal Vancouver route is, as it may have been "normal". The six passes by the military helicopter with some kind of blackish wave-like emanations from its radar dome wasn't normal in the least. On at least on one pass, at least four of the crew coordinated themselves to file past me. As before, the Victoria International Airport radar dome and mast were in plain view all day long, and anytime I looked there was some kind of magnetic emanation coming from these installationd toward me. I also see that the farm buildings were "ready for me" as there were two cellphone like towers on the roof, and an additional communications tower. These too shoot emanations at me, and might also be the source of the plasmic fuckery the perps laid on when I was in the bus, waiting for the strangely dawdling crew at quitting time. These towers sit overhead of the crew marshalling area, and it seems this entire gig was planned long ago.

As there was four days ago, there was a massive vehicular gangstalking to accompany the crew bus into downtown; the red colored vehicles were in groups of four to six, as were whites, silver greys and to a lesser extent, black colored vehicles. There were individual insertions of deep metallic green, light metallic brown (tan), navy blue and a few yellows. At least 5,000 vehicles were on this vehicular gangstalk event, as it is commute time, and there were many parked vehicles as well. All in a day's outing, just for me, everyday I go outside.

Time to call this done, and look for a new powerbar for the PC as the perps have sabotaged it at least twice, continuing the fuckery they pulled on the PC switch, which necessitated a $300 bill. Now the same PC startup dysfunctional fuckery has been moved to the powerbar, one that should not fail, given that it is a Isobar which are very robust. So if this blog goes down for a few days you will know it is yet another sabotage event on the heels of an identical one, all to keep the same uncertainty going.