Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Packing Boxes Equals More Gangstalking

I went to the one hour cleaning job early to put away the three cardboard boxes of paper towels and toilet paper, and also lifted two flats of plastic wrapped toilet paper with the narrow diameter core. They have two kinds in the bathrooms at the car dealership where I work for an whole hour per day, and the incremental drawdown of roll paper, especially with that brown colored core, is of intense interest to the perps. Also, the perps go beserk over a new roll when removing the glued outside panel to stop it from unraveling. They do the same at my place, and of course with a commercial establishment have a wide open field to pull all kinds of stunts; rapid drawdown of small core diameter paper goods, then with large diameter sizes, and thwarting me when when attempting to undo the glued first panel of the toilet paper and all manner of combinations and permutations. One roll of toilet paper was totally delaminating, one ply plainly and continuously separated from the other. And they even pulled a most bizarre stunt three times; when loading the narrow core diameter toilet paper on the half inch diameter rod with a rounded end, why, "it didn't fit somehow" and the perps arranged it to push the core toilet paper forward, creating a sharp hump at the center of the roll, rendering it useless.

When hauling these boxes and flats of janitorial supplies I had at least six staff members and two "customers" crossing my path and posing nearby; one dude made three passbys for curious reasons, the mechanic was positioned in front of the sink I use for filling the mop bucket and then "happened" to be going out the back way when I was there at the supplies closet. Even the car dealership owner got in on it and was hauling up his suit pants when he said hello to me, even though I have been introduced to him. Another not-seen-before twit was walking up the stairs but looking backward at absolutely nothing; my first sight of him was on the stairs when he was twisted around and looking back. I was only 2' from him at the landing and he was pretending that he hadn't heard me for crissakes. Later, he came to loiter outside the Service area when I was cleaning it. It was worse than a British farce; all these Fuckwits doing their entrances and exits; constant crossing paths and up my asshole, almost literally.

What is interesting is that car sales are way down, and my boss man tells me all but two car salesman are inactive (laid off). So how is it that these two new dudes "show up", making themselves to be car salesman? Go figure. And I suspect that blonde males might be getting more gangstalking promotion/leverage as the teller at the bank was of the same variety this morning. Whatever auric goodness that blonde females exhibit that my mind keepers can remotely detect is somehow being cast/observed in blonde males. Or whatever; I am so fucking tired of attempting to figure out the objectives of this nonstop abuse and the ramifications of all the stunts and jerkarounds.

And I see that there was a pile of dirt left in the N. garage at the car dealership, and 2' from where I transited at least 5x there and back to the recycle bins storage area. In the Parts section they had a used exhaust system with a similar dirt dusted all over it. This isn't the first time that clods of dirt have "arrived" and are left there in mysterious circumstances, and it is most odd that it keeps occuring at this car dealership. I suspect that the perps are measuring my energetic interaction to all these car parts, new and used, and the soil on which some of them are driven, and then doing some kind of correlation to detect soil interactions separately from that of the vehicle. And there is plenty more plastic wrapped parts positioned to pinch down the Parts area aisleway egress, the same deal with cardboard and brown paper wrapped parts for the last two months. All this brown cardboard, brown anything contact even, makes for intensified gangstalking. Which was quite apparent when I walked back and stopped at the LD store for a new prescription. At least ten of them filed through one after the other once I was at the checkout that is next to the entrance. And to make sure of this, there were no other checkouts open, just more of the working weirds (Unfavored) on display; pony-tailed male, about the most hideous hair going. On of the gangstalkers I met when the boss man introduced me to, and the fucker looked at me but didn't say hello. The perps dithered me so I wasn't shure that I had seen him before at first, and then "figured it out" (read, planted recollection) afterward. I never, ever forget a face, and yet the fuckers are routinely interfering with my visual recall. It just pisses my off that I cannot be left alone and that the fuckers have taken on the most adverse possible research; on an nonconsenting subject by remote means. And so far, they have seven years to do this and are still at it.

And I note that the photo upload feature of this here Blogspot has been corrupted, hence I cannot get any pictures of arranged vehicles in this posting. Another fucking piss-off.

I did a perusal of ceramic knives for some reason; I read that they give off "bad energy" which might be why the perps are so intent on noisestalking me when I am using a kitchen knife. As if I have $100 to spare to aid my tormentors in their next quest. The 12" kitchen knife I have was of a steel that would leach iron oxide so it had to be handled carefully and dried soon after washing it. The perps through their extra-conventional means, converted it to a metal that was different. The nature of the metal changed over a week or so and it became a non-staining, no iron oxide leaching metal. All without it getting stolen or otherwise damaged. So, that begs the question now that the seed has been planted, just what is the agenda over ceramic knives? Just a way to piss around web surfing, or are they going to bug the hell out of me until I relent? Stay tuned.

Enough of the tedium for today's posting, and perhaps I will be allowed to get onto what I had planned two months ago until this dysthymic fugue was imposed upon me.

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