Sunday, November 30, 2008

Counting Chickens Before they Hatch

Creating expectations before their likely realization is a longtime perp planted notion theme. And after starting this cleaning job three days ago, all manner of spending plans, saving goals and the like ensued. This, for a $400/month job that just might provide some net income. And as I indicated in yesterday's blog posting, there are some unrealistic job expectations that are being made plain, so much so, they have all the potential to make this a short term venture, all over in a month I wrote yesterday. And before I got up from bed, the perps reminded me of yesterday's ruminations that this job will only be short term, and they even had me practicing my resignation declaration syntax. So... it seems, the job will be over in days, and not a month as "suggested" (read, planted notion), and all those wonderous financial plans will come to naught. Just part of the scheme it seems, creating expectations that are then defeated by subsequent scripted events, even "new" (read, planted) perspectives, or more adversity.

And one has to think how long the perps have been planning some kind of cleaning position notion. Back in fall of 2007 there was a position advertised on the manager's office for a end-of-month cleaner and I applied, never to hear a word about it, and to observe that they didn't hire anyone either. It is likely this was to get me to submit my resume into the manager's mail box near the front door, and thereby provide some kind of paper material reference at this vital gangstalking location. building entry ways. They cannot get enough gangstalkers around at that moment, and have often put on three or more of them inside, then that many outside, all for me to pass through their scripted confusion stunts of egress obstruction. Last night, they even put on a moving act with furniture in the lobby. Anyhow, it isn't a big deal, and maybe the perp's obsession over cleaning jobs will be over.

A quick entry to include some pictures from the neighborhoed, apartment included. I am due to be picked up by the First Feral Family shortly, hence this brief, so to speak, introduction to the pics below.

And, no less, this pair of underwear has been there for at least six weeks, and seems to be about the oddest juxtaposition of clothing yet. Which begs the question, whose underwear is it? They would fit my mother, and that is about all the possible candidates. Imagine; setting this up for psychic underwear vibes across the street, some 100' away.

And who put son this waxy substance on my mouse all the time, ensuring it remains under my right hand, and gets soft with the heat of my hand, but never too noxious that I am moved to do something about it. No wonder the gangstalkers like to pass me on my right side and get a reading off of it, presumably to detect the color energies they created by way of plastering this on the mouse.

Calling this one done for today.

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