New Roofing at the First Feral Family Home

1415h
The den of the dipshits that put me into this fucking hell of nonconsensual human experimentation, aka the First Feral Family parents, are getting a new roof on their house. It was cedar shake, and within a few days it is going to be a fiberglass shingle. This is a very big change in the set up, as the energies of the roofing have a constant interaction with our own. prone, standing or seated. Call it electromagnetic energies if you like, but I am quite sure there are more fundamental energies that are the cornerstone of this insane harassment scenario I have been cast into.

My mother said the roofers were to arrive at 1100h, and lo, if they didn't arrive at 0750h, early enough before the adult day care bus came for my father, and to catch all of us up together. It was all the more important as they shook the house a number of times with the loader truck, and placed stacks of plywood above. The perps have been on a plywood stalking binge of late, and it seems that they will up the ante by having sheathing (plywood) placed on the roof, before the new shingles go on. As these are asphalt and fiberglass shingles, these too will play an important upcoming role in surveilling the ongoing energetic interactions. Or, at least, this is what it seems to be, as there are no end of plasma and maser beams hopping off objects and are directed at me.

My in-town brother had his roof re-shingled over a year ago, and I imagine that there are some results that the perps are hoping to apply to the First Feral Family home.

More TV interference bullshit last night; immediately following the first part of President Obama's appearance on 60 Minutes, they purged the TV of its cable feed, messed with the remote control, and then my mother put a service call into the cable TV distributor, and then handed the phone to me once the waiting was done. It seemed that our TV, and ours alone, "somehow" lost its feed from the cable company, and so the modem needed to be reset from their office. By the time that was all done, so was 60 Minutes. Nice one; perhaps it was all that negro interaction that they wanted me to see, and then catch me (and my energetic signature) just at it ended. It is a mystery, but the harassment and sabotage is very predictable along these themes that I mention in the Favored and Unfavored blog posting.

And having stayed with the First Feral Family parents last night, and witness more of the bullshit dementia act that my father puts on, doing some utterly strange things, it is a prime gangstalking day, a Monday. The city bus was overpopulated again, all part of the ongoing freakshow. It was a 1014h bus from suburbia (Gordon Head for locals), and here it was half full two stops into its downtown route. I got my orange coated Fuckwit again like last week (?), but he didn't sit beside me, but two seats away. I had four Fuckwits with me at the bus stop, and I cannot get over how strange it is for all these "bus travellers" to be on the route during weekday working hours. I was ringed with redcoats on the bus, one being at the same embarcation bus stop. The redcoats were mostly Caucasian with a few Asians in the mix, one with brown dyed hair even. The introductory blonde woman was two seats away, and there was the usual two stop riders who happened to sit nearby. These were the "babbling boys" as I call them, the effusive teenage boys who arrived together, put on the talk for three minutes, and then got off. Go figure, especially when they were able enough to walk the short distance between the stops.

2135h
I got shown a major change up in the chocolate supply. The much coveted Villars Milk Chocolate is no longer availible at the local supermarket, and only more of the yucky corporate Lindt stuff in its place. I suspect that is the new impositional order of things, especially when one considers how often the perps need me to eat chocolate to support their brown color fuckery. And too, they are very deliberate about the provenance of all my foods, and I learned tonight that the Villars Chocolate comes from Switzerland. And that they use whole Swiss milk and none of the milk powders and the like. I just might be snookered on my chocolate supply, though the best thing would be if they would stop scripting me to need it, as they once did. For a week in late 2002, they had me fucked with so I couldn't stand the smell of chocolate, and then switched me back again to continue their brown color games among the resident gangstalking operatives at the hospital.

For a Monday, the part time cleaning job at the car dealership didn't go as bad as I expected, though it was odd that the Service guy was still there an hour later than he usually leaves. He was sitting at his desk when I was about to turn the lights off, and so I asked the boss man about as to who was going to set the alarms. I went back to ask the Service guy, but he had timed his departure to be seen through the glass door just then. I was dispatched to the Sales Manager, though it was strange that the boss man didn't arrange alarm setting with him as he was nearby before getting ready to leave with me at the Service garage door. I dutifully went to see the Sales Manager, and lo, if they didn't put the negro woman who "happens" to be the receptionist at the doctor's office, as a seeming standalone gangstalker by the front door where the sales personnel do their greeting when I arrive. The strange blonde male salesman swooped in behind me while I was talking to the Sales Manager, and so they resumed talking while I left. And lo, if the negro woman wasn't walking ahead by some 40' when I got to the sidewalk, but with her Asian male pal. All these entrances and exits, like a British farce, except this one doesn't end in two hours, and is entirely malevolent and targeted at me. Just like some other 2,000 estimated TI's, those made aware of overt surveillance and targeted scripting and harassment. I wonder how many are covertly monitored and messed with as a percentage of the population.

I got a seven vagrant salute strung along the block outside the local supermarket today, an all time high. I am not sure if I should count vagrant parties, three of them, or the total collection of vagrants, seven. Help me out here for those experiened TI's. Other sidewalk games were to string gangstalkers in five or more persons wide, spaced 18" apart and some 100' distant as if in some kind of spagetti western of opposed parties. No music though, but at least three guitar stalkers today. These are guitar bearing gangstalkers, usually out of place and not near any nightclub or venue/context that would serve as a cover story. Beset by Faux Troubadors might be a book title for this experience one day.

I did another job application submission tonight; it seems the perps like me to go through with one every few weeks or so, and while doing it, ply me with all kinds of notions as to what it would be like to be working for this employer. All utter drivel, as it seems that the biggest part of having me employed is to have things go wrong all the time. What kind of employer would sign up for that, save the one that I have in the form of the cleaning job? I don't profess to understand why the concept of work, having a job, employment and the rest is of such constant interest to the perps, but it is. I am routinely noisestalked when encountering these concepts, websites and anything that is part of this subject. And on the flip side, they also like to noisestalk me when the notion of idleness, doing nothing important and like indolence is mentioned or even thought of.

2230h
I did up reply comments, and I am very glad for them, as it is my only clue that I have a reading audience. The Google Analytics thing broke, it lies to me, and I have given up on attempting to get read-meters and the like. It is all part of the FUD Fog that my tormentors like to keep me in. That and getting me rage-ified today; very loud and immediate, though not usually when online, a relative respite from attempting to do something competantly and getting fucked with.

That is the day's news, such as it was, and now to comtemplate how long the assholes will keep me up tonight, given that Mondays, post Feral Family visitation, are nearly always the worst of the week.