Wednesday, August 06, 2008

My View Horizon is Now Manipulatable

The harassment games have been going on all the working day when I was on the conveyor belt line sorting daffodil bulbs. The perps keep testing me by causing some kind of change to my vision as to where the nearest stable object is, forcing me to look up at the warehouse beams to reset my horizon, that part of one's vision where one knows it is immovable and represents stability. I don't any better how to explain it, but the perps are altering my vision to appear as if I am moving when I am not. They seem to be testing for this state, and want to know how I know it is an abberation. A visual error detection seems to be their goal, different from the logical and verbal error detection capability that they were once after and can now remotely dither at will.

And it wasn't enough to screw me around while sorting daffodil bulbs, as they are doing the same thing at my desk, altering where this LCD display panel is, and then seeing how I know. Here, like earlier when bulb sorting, the assholes put on extra noise and electromagnetic activity (shutting down the conveyor belt) at the same time these vision fucking games are going on. Oddly, it is not a balance problem, but strictly a visual jerkaround.

It seems that looking at daffodil bulbs for eight hours wasn't enough, as they are replaying images of them to me while I am doing other things. Call it imagery swamping; inundation with irrelevant imagery and a first time event.

I had something momentous in mind to type and it seems it got deleted in short term memory. I have never has this problem so bad before. Other kinds of memory, like associational recall is better than I ever had it, though nothing too important has arisen.

My mother is doing some vague-isms of late, going back to the theme of visiting Ottawa for some reason, also vague. We have no family connection there and never had any pressing need to visit Eastern Canada, and now this nonsense. I don't know what the harassment angle is but museums have been talked about, and perhaps they want me, the poster boy for magnetic irradiation and harassment to undertake some kind of proofing for them.

I had six police drive-bys in 15 minutes while waiting for the crew bus downtown this morning. It is getting absurd to see so many about. It just might be that the perps are getting close to why I loathe the sight of uniforms. They were on foot, cruiser, motorcycles, van and bicycle. Imagine that, putting on all those performances for me to see for a duration of 5 to 10 seconds.

And another related police exposure setup was this afternoon at the end of work, before heading back on the crew bus. The police were looking for a bulb picker who has gone missing. As it "so happened" I was the last one to see him on Saturday, Aug. 02, gangstalking me as I got off the crew bus, (not at work with me). And so I had to go through the name, address, phone number bullshit with him. Anyhow, I did not use the gangstalking word and open up that can of worms, but I am sure the policeman knew all about it, and this was just another "show"/exposure for whatever reason. Other TI's have the same experiences, along with extra ambulances driving around, something I also get.

More strange events this morning at the crew bus pickup site downtown. Two dudes were already there and hung around for another 10 minutes and then sauntered off. Here they got ready for a 0650h pickup time, and couldn't wait another 5 minutes. Then another dude arrived in his ridiculous light yellow colored hoodie, this being the Scottish accent act that the perps like to put on me. He waited for about 10 minutes and then a vehicle came by and picked him up and off he went. When I the crew bus got in from its rounds he was there at the marshalling area waiting. Fucking weird on both accounts by my reckoning. And never mind the unfriendly bit about not offering me a ride, something they wouldn't do in Scotland.

And it does seem that I am close to be as toxic waste socially; during the coffee and lunch breaks they all flee, save a two on sentry duty and no one talks about the work or how it is going. More bizarre bullshit it would seem. Other wierdness is the two conveyor system for the bulbs, the first one beong only controllable from outside the building on the feed side. Whenever we get swamped the conveyor is shut down but someone also needs to run around and tell the other conveyor operator so he doesn't create a bulb pile up. And who does this, the one with the slackest job and is the closest to the conveyro operator? Of course not; they all have a collective brain fart and it is up to me to prevent pile ups of bulbs. Fucking absurd.

And the perps wokrked me over big time after th the first coffee break where I ate my tortilla slice, one ones I normally eat at home. Last week at this same juncture and dietary intake the Punjabi crew "happened" to come by and hang around for five minutes or so for some odd reason. Today, they worked me over by making me move around the conveyor to differing locations to sort out bulb pile ups as well as vacating the position to tell the bulb feed operator to stop. And it seemed everytime I asked for a couple of minutes of delay in the main bulb feed conveyor, he would start up inside of 30 seconds. It became impossible to deal with at times, this wilfulness to ignore the basic precepts of preventing bulb sorting problems.

And free pop twice today when on the bulb line, the later being a cola drink. Having me drink cola is rare as I don't buy it myself, and I am sure there was some perps objective behind it, having us all drink the same pop while working. (The daffodil bulbs are various brown colors as well as the ivory white center flesh color). As it "so happened" the unopened cola drink passed throughthe hands of one of the Punjabi workers, and I suppose this was yet more brown color testing.

My mother mentioned Sarah McLachlan's name on Aug. 03, the day she was playing in town when she suddenly dropped by. I have mentioned this before, by my mother does not listen to music at all, not even the radio. So how would she know who she was and that it was worth mentioning to me? Another mystery, to be sure. Anyhow, I did not go as it would of been gangstalking hell, among a crown of 40,000.

I am getting a long session of yawning and each time I do so, the perps add a plasmic augmentation of what I am seeing at the moment of the forced yawn. Mostly it is plasmic projections off the LCD display as well as my visual acuity being dithered. I get the same in the bathroom; plasmic "reflections" come off the faucet as if some kind of momentary vision perturbing substance had been applied to my eyglasses. The beams will shoot some 6" from the faucet no matter if my glasses are on or not. This is routine, every bathroom visitation.

Time to post this blog for the night; I just completed adding the Answering Anonymous post to the top of the Essential Introductory Postings, also calling it a FAQ (Frequently Asked Questions). That posting skips the nitty gritty of these dull details about how low the perps will go to fuck my existence. The answer to that is; always lower than you think. Today was an example; they plant plenty of crumbs on my plate at meal times, often the crumbs "arriving" from nowhere (i.e., telported), and routine has been that I pick these up with the end of my finger where they temporarily stick. But that inanity isn't good enough; now the crumbs "come back", i.e. a new substitued crumb of the same size, color and shape will arrive close by, within an inch. And that wasn't good enough, as the crumbs will come back but smaller, (but of the same color and substance) and then smaller again as I pick it up for the second time. Imagine, there are grown adults managing crumbs on my plate in this way.

And a final bummer for the night; when the perps (IMHO) are sponsoring murders only a block away, it would seem that they are closer to whatever it is that they are looking for by way of bioenergetics. A nasty perspective to be sure, and I don't mean any disrespect, but there is too much of this going on that fits the racial, concrete substance, blood sample, demise objectives in as presented in the harassment campaign. My take on the way the perps are embedded in this city is that fly cannot fart without perp permission. Call me a crusty paranoiac on this one, but I have yet to find any example where my life hasn't been orchestrated in the past six years, and very possibly, my entire life.

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