Saturday, November 08, 2008

Comments as Spam and Other Planted Confusions

I see that my depravees have sent Blogger comments into my spam folder on Yahoo, now reversed and fixed I hope. I would never knowingly identify TI's or myself as spam senders, and yet that was the appearance by way of inclusion in the spam folder. And I just "happened" to have looked as normally I delete the entire spam folder without going in and looking at individual records. I get pleny more spam attention now that I posted my resume, though I suspect it is all in keeping with the perp objective themes. The concepts of work, job, employment, layoffs, fired and the rest of those terms that signify paid work, or lack of it, have been an abiding theme for escalated harassment, most often noisestalking. And lo, if a siren cascade didn't go off while I was typing those very words, and there is ongoing faux water usage noise by the faux neighbors. (I maintain there are very few real neighbors in this apartment, and most of those I see are operatives or shills, especially the ones that follow me at my breakneck walking pace for a few blocks before "happening" to be "residents" in this building so they can take the same elevator with me. And said Fuckwit was also a colleague in my 1979 UBC forestry class, and per usual, didn't have the gumption to say hello. The perps wiped my recall of who it was so I "didn't know", and only put the fucker into recall some hours later.

Even my mother joined into the employment theme today by phoning and mentioning a job fair in the newspaper, as well as doing some name dropping about various agencies or employers that I have come to know in the process of this sandbagged job search game that is still playing out. And lo, if the location of the job fair wasn't identified in the newpaper, and lo, if my mother couldn't find it online either. The last suggestion is preposterous as she has no fluency with being online, and her PC is slow and decrepit and consequently she is not likely to use it. More of the preposterous stuff again. That ranks up there with the blatantly affrontive stunts they like to pull on me.

I put this story into a TI's blog comments, and I see it got blocked, which was what was being tested for. As in gone into the void, wherever they put the TI's deleted writing. At breakfast time they put on a fake loud vehicle noise which is reason enough to turn around and look to see if there is a real one there, or indeed, it is a noise only event by way of projected sound games I have come to know. While looking out at the streetside gangstalking scene, I was finally allowed to notice a middle aged man in a long overcoat and hat leaning against a half wall some 20' from the bus stop. He was in a fugly orange-tan brown colored coat, oddly placed as he wasn't at the bus stop, the only reason anyone would be standing around at that location. Some five minutes later, another setup noise-only event "happened", agian having me look outside, and there was the same gangstalking man there except this time, his coat was a grey-brown color. It was the same coat, same man and same posture, like he never moved. The new word of the day to describe these events is "chameleonic forces", these changeable clothing colors. This is about the fastest clothing color changeup I have seen, though some of my gangstalkers have changed skin tone weeks later, going from a pale Caucasian to a mid-tone brown Asian.

I made a trip to the supermarket some 200' away as the crow flies, and there are a lot of them around here if one goes by the noises I get to hear. I had my Unfavored gangstalking posse out in force, including the outbound elevator with a pregnant woman and her 3 y.o. daughter. Why they need to feature pregnant women is beyond me, but it "happens" more than by happenchance. Among the Unfavored I had the vagrants, do-rags, yellow jackets, loping executives, a regular gut strutter of some years past making a jaywalking return to the fold, a half-on jacket act in the store, the back-and-forth tail doing the reverse direction in front of me, and then into lead-ahead mode when I entered the supermarket, and another gut-strutter in the store, his slab of flab emulating the pregnant woman's shape to some extent. It seems that the perps are attempting to have portions of big gutted Fuckwits posing and gangstalking, and then are attempting to make comparisons between them in different locations. Back to the tired question; if I don't like the sight of large gutted shiftless males wandering around in my proximity, why is it a national or even, international, event to place these "reminders" of what I don't like around me everywhere in public? Why are my predilections anyone else's business but my own?

And I see that the perps had arranged some exterior street maintenance props to be present in the supermarket, and close to the checkout that I was at. These are the dayglo plastic lane markers that "show up" not only in the usual outdoor street works projects, but also at my bus stops and on top of vehicles and building roofs in my proximity. And for good measure they had the yellow plastic tape bounding off this portion of the store that was next to the windows, the "Do Not Cross" message on it. Additionally, they had a half sheet of plywood on the floor, painted a dark green, matching the general color of the tiled floor. I mentioned it to the cashier and she said they had a leak there, and had to dig down to excavate it, hence the street works maintenance saftey props inside the building. Just more bizarre shit to me, and I think I am on record as to past plywood stalking.

[No, I checked, and I haven't mentioned the recent flurry of plywood games that have gone on. The most strange was the plywood on the roof racks of the vehicle in front of me when driving with my parents in their vehicle; one panel's front edge lifted up about 18", having been only secured with a pathetic bungy cord. The vehicle slowed down, and still the plywood sheet stayed up, all for me to pass it by on the right side. There were other plywood stalkings, and the final one of that weekend being when two young Asian males came from the elevator in this apartment building's lobby, with a 2' square panel of plywood resting in an walker. More absurdity; why would they have a walker in the first place, and why did this plywood that could of been packed by hand "need" to be placed on it?]

The cashier that told me this is the same one who was once blonde when she was at the past grocery store that I frequented, and now she is at this one in a reddish-brown hair dye job that doesn't do her any good. But I suppose she must be important enough that the perps are trying to leverage her past image as Favored (blonde), to that of Unfavored (fugly red-brown hair). She was her usual chirpy self as a cashier today, but is the same one who has been most unfriendly when she "happened" to be on her way to work at 0700h on the street, near this apartment building. That happened twice, once on each side of the street, the last most occasion was when her face was unduly (read, plasmic fuckery) darkened down from being under an umbrella at the time.

The overhead pounding has started up as I am reading about exotic stereo gear. There was a prior run-up of pissing me off with messing my head as to a tab or a bookmark manager choice, something they do routinely. Somewhere in 2006 this became remotely hackable and the assholes have been dithering me on this one ever since.

More reading about 9/11 at Dr. Judy Wood's site and her determination that there was some kind of energetic destruction as the concrete was turned to dust, there were no chunks or large rubble. I could go into great detail as to my perspectives on this but I won't for the sake of brevity. I haven't seen any "dustification" in my high harassment days of 2002, though rapid rusting of the steel that I purchased at the time did occur in my apartment no less. She remarks on the fast rusting found at the site, and how it seem to be selectively applied to some beams, but not others that were immediately adjacent. That doesn't prove anything I hasten to add; sabotage of my "protective" measures of buying steel sheet did not impair its sheilding function. I still get games with steel cutlery and knives; water from nowhere "arrives" on just dried knives, and the discouragement of me eating with utensils. My daughter couldn't cut her food with a knife at the age of 10 y.o., and I reckon that was perp controlled as well. There was a whole lot more emphasis on finger foods with her, and I suspect that is the case today at age 18. She wasn't in my care with my new job in Everett, and the entire scene must have been conveyed to her sometime when my visa was taking six weeks to arrive and I couldn't leave the US.

More reading of the Alien Jigsaw, I Forgot What I Wasn't Supposed To Remember. A fascinating tale of human abduction and experimentation and this, and others like it, cause me to wonder if my deranged tormentors are connected with these entities, aliens in some cases, human-like hybrids in others. Perhaps I mentioned this a few days ago, but Katherina Wilson's account mentions that some of the greys are light tan in color and others have red hair on them. Given that both these features are part of the Unfavored gangstalking freakshow, along with skinheaded males, it does make me wonder if this is the reason for such intense interest to the perps. Like I have mentioned before, I have at least 2.5 years of lost time between the ages of 2 to 5 y.o., and it always causes me to wonder what went on then that is of such overwhelming interest for the Fuckwits to stage this all around me in public. The first being I saw when I opened my curtains this morning was a skinhead male in a deep burgundy jacket on the run for some bizarre reason, running away from a bus stop on a Saturday no less. I have mentioned past running Fuckwit gangstalkers whose cover story makes no sense, but this took the absurdity one level higher. Clearly the freak's velocity has something to do with the assholes monitoring my detection of the stunting operative, the skinhead in this case.

Time to get this one launched for the day, and ponder what tomorrow's excitement will be. These are very dull days since I got back from the outing in late September as all the "for sure" jobs did not materialize by way of no returned phone calls or emails.

Another loathesome consideration before going to sleep is how many zappings I am to get. These are full body zappings delivered with an coincident overhead thud; my "neighbors" have done this for the past 8 resident locations. Funny how they find me all the time.

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