Monday, October 27, 2008

Ass Planting

This time it is not my ass that is the topic, but that of my tormentors' agents, specifically my mother this morning and a faux louche sitting on that steel box the perp put in against a wall adjacent to the sidewalk back in mid-2006, a few months after I moved in. I will see if I can find it in the pictures somewhere, but I am not opptomistic as these diversons go on for nearly an hour or more. All to the sound of increased noisestalking when I am finally allowed to resume what I had begun.

When I came down the stairs at my parent's place this morning my mother had the dishwasher open for a round of crockery clanging, and had placed herself between the dishwasher door and the counter with her ass backed into the crower for the cutlery. And lo, if I didn't need to get cultery some 20 seconds later as none had been left out for me when they nearly always do leave some, just not a full set, a spoon and an knife is all I need then.

[Break to live action; at least the eighth siren cascade tonight and they nearly always terminate in this neighborhood. Seattle was never this "busy" when I lived there. And this being a Monday night is the high event for the week, harassment, fuckery, and all other abuse].

So when I ventured out later this afternoon after a prodidgious effort in filling out online job applications, the "Force" was in place. Three police like dudes at the front door, one holding it open for me, the other on his radio, and the skinhead posing for me to see this disgusting comportment. Then some 20' along, why a dude just "happened" to be hanging out by sitting on this 30" high steel box that was installed for my benefit it would seem, as I have observed toroidal maser pulses emanating from it. Looking every inch the emancipated near-vagrant with time on his hands, it was quite the little oddity for this downtown residential block. He did the look-away (at nothing) pose with at least a 100 degree twist to his spine in the usual theme of spinning heads that I get in my presence. Some perps/gangstalkers are there to be looked at, apprised as a Fuckwit Criminal, beget my derision and then pass from the scene as I walk by. He was one, but not the only one for my 200' walk to the local supermarket.

Next was the furtive and fidgety Fuckwit standing like some kind of misplaced 60 y.o. cleric with his hands clasped together over his crotch sans Bible, like he couldn't help himself in looking so utterly ill-at-ease. Anyhow, I made sure to divert my attention to thwart the look-at-me intent of this particular gangstalker placement. But the male crotch grabbing sightings have increased of late, the most egregious was this dude turning a corner with one hand slipping into his open fly with a sucker in his mouth and the white stick projecting in from his mouth. And this was conducted as I "happened" to be passing that corner some 8' away, and I presume he tailed me for at least half a block or so before fading into the ether as so many of them do.

And given that it is a Monday, the day of return from the First Feral Family dwelling and my one evening per week of TV, this will continue to be a high noise evening along with the typo sabotage as I attempt to put this blog posting together. Added perp objective events were having me do the hedge trimming after breakfast at my parent's place; I have noted past perp obsession over presenting cut foliage in my proximity, and this was of course a first class event of creating it anew, transporting the cuttings and even wearing some of the clippings on my shirt, even now the odd one "erupts" in the kitchen or bathroom.

More yellings at the assholes for "mouse fucking", that being the PC pointing device in the form of a Logicraft Trackman, (the best), and the thumb ball just "seizes up", all by itself and on demand, especially when I am deeply involved in perp obsession activity like online job applications and resume submissions. I am now convinced that the current dry spell of not getting any responses from this activity, save two that abruptly ended for no apparent reason, is all about having me make applications, put out my resume in many versions and otherwise jerk me around for their continued studies, whatever that maybe, save everything I do. And now some more yellings at the assholes for typo sabotage, as well as sabotage of my error correction abilities so the "error" will run on for longer. That should do it for now, as nearly all my yellings are getting noisestalked, some before the sabotage occurs.

And about three noisy motorcycles per minute tonight, one of the most loathed noises there is in my book. And someone arranges this around me all the time. When headed into the supermarket, after observing the above mentioned crotch covering standee outside, I had a motorized wheelchair leading ahead of me into the store, and another one was coming the opposite direction, both in deep metallic flake red finish, and both with grannies on board doing the driving. If I fucking hate the sight of wheelchairs, why do I have a nightmare navigating around these fucking things that are placed in my proximity far in excess of any normal demographic occurence? And, the wheelchairs were identical models if that wasn't inferred. I suspect the wheelchairs are all about having someone in a seated position nearby, as I had been seated for the prior two hours before heading to the supermarket. Likewise for the excess of motor scooters; the driver is in the seated position as if in a chair, unlike straddling a motorcycle.

More reading of "Chasing Phantoms" by Carissa Conti; the MILAB (Military Abduction) world has many similarities to the harassment and mind control world that I live in all the time, though I haven't yet got my head around invoking the "higher self" or "higher entity" to help me out, and that I have total control on my events and outcomes has yet to be validated. So yes, I have a victim mentality, but I didn't get here by capitulating, but by observation and recalibrating my worldview based on the outcomes that became prevalent. The model holds, though it doesn't give me much of an existence.

No pictures or links again as this Blogger editor is stripped of all its icon command buttons, and I don't want to invoke another round of harassment/hassle by guessing which is what and getting it wrong, only to escalate the rage-ification. There has been plenty of that tonight.

Time to call this one done, and ponder how much sleep I will get for a Monday night.

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