Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Early Morning Hot Rod Escort

I am not sure I will get this finished tonight as I am getting sleep deprived still. Last night it was all about keeping me in a light sleep and bugging me about all manner of retrospective events. Like I never got any sleep, but I did. The night before I got 5 hours and 8 is normal. As always, I show no ill effects or tiredness over missed sleep, another externally governed condition.

At least five hot-rods of varying colors but all in file came to the lane next to the bus I was on and accompanied me for a few minutes of highway travel time. The sickos have a hot-rod fixation of late, and here they were all driven in file at about 0730h this morning. That takes planning, as who else would organize specific specialty vehicle types at that time of day, among varying owners for crissakes. Another few hot rods two days ago when on a First Feral Family drive, and endless hot rod muffler noises for the past month, often 50 to 80 per day.

And male pony tail training in increments on the bus. A passenger on the seat in front of me was obstructing another male sitting in front of him, and slowly the latter was revealed in small increments by the closest passenger slipping sideways in his seat. And lo, straight from the Unfavored Freak Show, was the now partially obstructed male with a very small and ugly pony tail sticking out from below his ball cap. Call it a training ponytail. And if that weren't stupid enough to be playing peekaboo games with male ponytail acts, why, another male ponytail act, a full blown blonde one, planted himself in front of me on the inbound bus this afternoon. I was compelled to turn to look out the window all the more once this Unfavored visage was place without benefit of an obstructing gangstalker. More of the incremental exposure games, hoping that glances at a small ponytail will convey some benefit of a large male ponytail in my direct view later in the day. Putting this bullshit in perspective again; if I don't like male ponytails, why in the fuck am I hounded on the bus by this collection of Fuckwits who insist on planting this for me to see, and even starting me out on tentative glances at a tentative male ponytail? It is fucking absurd that 7.5 years have passed of this insane gangstalking and incorporating this kind of bullshit as daily Unfavored fare.

I am getting way more shiftless dudes loitering around me; bus stop, bus, outside my apartment and at every intersection downtown. Even at the farm job at lunch break, two of my male colleagues arrived at the same moment, choreographed to walk in file and turn and face me some 4' away in unison. There must be something I don't like about males acting together. And at 0655h when stepping out of my apartment I get the shiftless loitering Fuckwit "happening" to start walking ahead of me and another one some 30' away, turned to be looking at me. I cross the street which is an extra longer route, and then in some 30 seconds or so, these shiftless fucks join up together. Fucking weird to say the least.

I was back onto the usual medication that has yellow colored capsules after the doctor shut me out of refilling to then facilitate a four day hiatus that ended yesterday. I remarked on this in the last blog posting, as these are the days the perps go beserk over yellow colored gangstalking, clothing and objects. All day yesterday I was working in blue and black colored clothing in a field, and the blue tractor was plowing some 150' away, as well as "showing up" for other static shows in other directions. For the last 20 minutes of the day rain was threatening, and so I put on yellow PVC raingear. And lo, if the yellow loader didn't show up in the blue tractor's place, with forks on it no less, driving sensely around (IMHO) in a plowed field. It didn't have any towed implements, and I couldn't figure out what the fuck it was doing besides some kind of distance dependent yellow color testing in conjuction with my yellow raincoat.

Other bullshit yesterday was the cluster of dudes around me on the bus with two seats left open, and lo, if two blue haired male Fuckwits didn't arrive together and each took one whole seat to themselves. One was a Caucasian with a blue mohawk hairdo, and his pal was a shorter haired native Indian with blue hair and the same blue dye on the back of his black and white hoodie. They got off at different locations, and were doubtless the featured wierds of the entire bus trip. Fucking bizarre, and the mohawk blue haired dude managed to got off the bus ahead of me and tail me for the first 60' of walking downtown. He took off at the next pedestrian light, and a retard with two very large luggage items was doing his waddling and mumbling act, and was strangely astute enough to start walking across when the pedestrian traffic control light indicated "Don't Walk", and timed it when there was no vehicles crossing. Not your average retard.

According to JK Harms' color energetics theories, blue and yellow are complementary colors, and it seemed that was the case with both these colors featuring predominantly yesterday. And as today was my first yellow pill intake day, from a blue plastic container, there was plenty of gangstalking action utilizing these same colors today.

A day of work duty, on cabbage picking at the farm. It was mighty wet after yesterday, and the cabbage's collect the rain at their central stem with their wide leaves, the ones that are removed before packing them in the boxes. That was my job, packing them, weighing and stacking in the field, and later re-stacking at the warehouse. I didn't get too wet, though I had my dayglo raingear on hand and lo, if it didn't just disappear at lunch time when there couldn't of been more than five people passing by. And if they put on the raingear, they would of been visible for at least a half mile, and no one had picked it up. There were three other pairs of yellow raingear lying nearby, and have been for over a week, and lo, my adjacent raingear just goes poof, gone, inside 30 minutes. Another perp theft for whatever reason, and when my crew mate's elicitations prompted me to mention this theft, why, they didn't have anything to say, or weren't too moved about this outrageous stunt.

And I am getting my eye buggering irradiation on my return from work at the farm. This is the same harassment that preceded the end of hiking, the end of the workout at the gym (60 min. round trip city walk as part of it), and if I were a betting type, I think they farm work is suddenly going to come to and end. Anytime the perps want me to terminate physical activity, this is the precursor event. And with two of the farm staff being off earlier this week, it seems that something is brewing. My theory on the vision buggering irradiation is that physical activity causes it to dissapate, and they need to "top me up" when I get back to my place. Also, I am working around others all the time, so they might back off during the daytime. So..., just when I am laying out cash for a big PC upgrade, I reckon the perps are going to strike in some way and end my farming job, one that would of ended in December anyway. I hope I am wrong, but this pattern of driving me out of any physical activity is part of what they have done for swimming and running as well.

Today's work in the cabbage fields was with two E. Indians, the same pair that kept showing up yesterday at every break in my greenhouse berry picking duties. In an earlier oddity moment of two days ago, one of them was standing exactly on the spot my boots had been parked a week before, on a phone call in a mildly contorted way so he could stand where they had been placed on the concrete next to a wall for some 6 hours when I was on the garbage dump duty and was suited up in company rubber boots and yellow PVC raingear. This isn't the first time someone has placed themselves exactly over where I had been sitting or where my personal clothing had been kept. And they like me to know this, as I am sure it could of been done many times without me "happening" to see it.

Time to call this one done for the day, and pardon the scattershot reportage. The perps have me in really unsettled state, ready to do something else when this activity is just fine.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Sunday Short Post

An incendary piece on the Houston Police here; Houston, We Have a Problem. The usual thumps and noise were getting through my earmuffs while reading this very stark journalism on what transpires for democracy in that city. Like the author says, it won't change one bit, and the locals know how to outfox any outside do-gooders.

My PC rebuild plans are continuing; hard drives have been ordered from Vancouver, and so continues the geographic dispersion of the sourcing of the components. The CPU has already been purchased two weeks ago in Richmond BC, and the video cards might come from Calgary AB. The last PC build of three years ago had the CPU and memory come from Ontario and the motherboard locally after three weeks of delays and a prior unexpected shortage from another supplier. Of course all these are nominative sources; the CPU is actually made in Costa Rica (Intel Core i7 920), most of the electronics and memory are from Taiwan and the hard drives from Indonesia. How the perps figure all that out in advance is beyond me, but this choreography of better prices elsewhere, unavailibility, delays and the rest of it is highly orchestrated. And of course, where do all elemental substances that comprise the electronics come from; the metals and plastics etc.? it just boggles my mind that all this is governed and fucked with; some components will get stored for some weeks at my place, some will be sent to my mother's place for me to pick up, while others will be aquired by the PC builder directly. And of course, the PC case has been in my possession for over a year, and I am sure that it has a raft of perp management contingencies applied to it. (Like when I first brought it home; a lead-ahead gangstalking pickup and camper combination in black and silver colors, the same as the PC case in my parent's vehicle I was driving). Most of the old PC parts will be shunted into a "budget box" that my mother will use, and so continues the perps' relentless and sustained games of obsessing and arranging the color of everything, including the wiring sheathing, PCB boards, metal colors and the rest of it. No wonder they often gangstalk me with fugly copper colored vehicles, usually introducing them after a "warm up" of black, white, silver-grey, mid-grey and other greyscale colors. And too, the copper colored vehicles are presented in the center of such vehicle aggregations, keeping the greyscale reference colored vehicles all around them. The perps even put on two adjacent copper colored vehicles last week, an all time first for this obnoxious vehicle color.

Presently, I expect a big yellow color gangstalking later today when out with the First Feral Family; my yellow colored medication ran out on Thursday and the doctor didn't respond to my phone message request for a new Rx to cover me until the Oct. 05 appointment. Past experience has been that Rx-free Mondays, (I regularly "forget" to take them for my overnight stays at my parent's place, the First Feral Family home), and for the odd week away, the perps lay on yellow dressed gangstalkers and gangstalking vehicles in substantially greater numbers. Not my problem if I don't like yellow, red and yellow together and a few other colors. Why has it consumed an insane and illegal uber-agency for over 7.5 years in applying this abuse and subverting genuine clinical care? (Not that I need any in the first place; I was doing fine until all this shit came down in 04-2002). Don't ask me, I only the victim, not a shill, quisling or operative to cover the gradation of sick-minded involvement in this remotely applied psychopathic "total neural awareness" depredation. [Cue hot rod noise through my earmuffs as I typed in the above quoted phrase]. I would rather be in the Harris County Jail courtesy of the Houston Police than this interminable and deranged fuckery at every breath, thought or move I make.

And the Windows mouse cursor fucking games have been getting on my nerves for the past two months or so; at least three or more seconds delay in action (keystroke or mouseclick) and outcome when it was virtually instant before that. And the cursor movement is delayed as well as the incorrect cursor symbology; where a vertical line is expected for input I get an arrow, or even a finger pointer which is usually reserved for a hyperlink. And as part of this Windows kernel fuckery, some of my inputs, like for credit card information, gets placed on the wrong lines, splitting my phone number among multiple input boxes when the keystroke/mouseclick order was correct. Just more of the same, along with the parade of unempathic playing dumb contact cast (First Feral Family, clinical clowns, and all other quislings), all of whom should rot in hell if justice will be ever delivered.

Above is the dark and negative version for today, but I actually feel a lot better than the above screed suggests, so don't take it as a mood lapse, har, har, and for the clinical clowns who leverage every faint excuse, I don't want to hear any reference to the above for the next appointment in October. But as a pre-emptive heads up, I want to hear a reasoned and cogent and intelligent answer to the gonzo assertion that "my case isn't well managed". First, I want to know to whom it applies, me or the doctor, and secondly, I want to hear how it can possibly be managed anybetter when a substantial body of my complaints is about the public behavior of individuals in my proximity. Since the perps have had me beating that thought to death 10x per day for the last month, and will do so until October 05, I really don't expect an answer, and possibly the mouthpiece (so called health case worker), for that particular vituperative phrase won't be there as requested.

It is interesting that my mother leaves for a three week visitation to the UK later that day, and I will be driving her to the airport afterward. Assuming of course, some kind of incarceration inititiative isn't afoot. One never knows, but at they have me visiting my father in an extended health care facility once per week (later today), perhaps that is all the hospital contact the perps want me to have. They make my skin crawl when I visit the place, so perhaps that is my Unfavored ration of hospital exposure they need to put me through in any given week. As an aside, I pass the laundry facility there when I visit, and I don't like the smell of it one bit, though it is a genuine institutional laundry smell. Then the perp fuckers played that same laundry smell on me when I was back at my place, in essence, performing the same Unfavored smell in different, a non-hospital setting. Clever, separating the smell from the genuine context/source. And funny how they knew I didn't like the smell as I never mentioned it. When making these visitations to my father at his extended stay facility, I am with my mother and we take him back to the First Feral Family home for a visitation for a few hours. And lo, if she doesn't now pause at the said laundry area looking for missing articles of clothing. Somehow, they go missing when there is identifying sewn-in labels on all my father's, and all other patients' clothing.

I got sidetracked with email and a very first IM chat with a TI. Some genuine interaction was permitted, and both at the same time, making switching between them an unaccustomed cognitive shift. Anyhow, that is all for today, above rants only.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Double Reds

Two red shirted colleagues today. A former worksite colleague has recently retired and phoned me up for a visit to a mutual colleague who has Multiple Sclerosis (MS) and is debilitated to the level of being only able to manipulate devices by way of pressing his tongue against his cheek which is placed against a sensor and then sends out a radio signal (to a TV). In other words, he cannot use his hands at all and is totally wheelchair bound for all his waking hours. Don't ask me how much I would like that degree of constraint on my being, as this sick mind-fuck harassment is plenty enough and I won't go into details for fear of jepoardizing my position with respect to the clinical assholes who blocked my recent training grant applications for no substantive reason. I have an upcoming appointment with them in early October to find out what got into them, why they nixed $12k of grant monies, and how it can be resolved. That is to say, their playing dumb act just got substantially dumber. (This being the doctor and the health care worker who, within weeks of each other, and totally out of character, supplied slanderous nonsense to two separate training fund application reviewers, and thereby causing them both to be rejected. Any attempt to get these clinical clowns to at least consult a recent job reference fell on deaf ears. They didn't want to know.)

Back to red shirts; my able-bodied colleague didn't have a vehicle today, so I walked to his place, and then we walked to the MS colleague's place, only 25 min. total overall. And lo, if I didn't meet one of my farm worker colleagues enroute on the first trip leg, and he showed me his recent acquisitions of DVDs still in their shrink wrap inside a plastic bag. And I was totally unaware of the actor and the roles he played in these two action flicks. Normally I am not that spaced out on current culture, but these things can be arranged as I have come to know, especially if it supports the FUD fucking. (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt, said to be the IBM credo for their sales staff in dealing with customers). Anyhow, he tried to tell me what a coincidence it was to meet on the street and I demurred. Then to really pile it on, he said that he "happened" to have just met one of my other laborer work colleagues only a few minutes before, and lo, if the perps didn't block my recall as to what his name was for a few seconds. (I don't ever forget someone's name if I have been working with them for an entire week, especially when engaged in intelligent conversation).

Still getting on tangents here; my able bodied colleague had a red checkered shirt on with maroon suspenders and didn't wear a jacket as it was so warm. We walked to the MS colleague's place, he also happening to be wearing a bright red shirt, and had a decent chat for some 40 minutes. (There, I finally worked the title into the story.) When it was all said and done, and after a walk back to my able bodied colleague's departure point, we shook hands, and I set off in my direction, and lo, if there wasn't some red plasma flashes and persistent beams placed in front of me. This is getting to be a common occurence, especially for red colors; immediately before or after red items in my visual field I get plasma beams of a similar red placed in my vision, no matter where I look. Once it was highly disorienting as it filled my visual field, the time I retirieved my dayglo orange raingear where it was stored at the berry picking farm.

At the visitation there was the food and drink sampling as part of the deal, along with packaging color (glass bottles) and presentation objects (porcelain bowl with blue glaze); the able bodied colleague had an apple cider from a green bottle which told me indirectly he/we was going to stay longer than the 20 minutes he said we should aim for. Later, I was offered an apple/cinamon ginger beer from a brown bottle, and later some slices of fresh apples where brought out in the bowl for sampling among us three. Anyhow, there were other feints and dodges on the way and back, especially with a red shirted person next while walking, as it is rare that the perps let me associate with anyone for any length of time, save the First Feral Family members. Regular readers will know that my insane tormentors are consumed with the colors of food and beverages I ingest, as well as the color of the objects that hold or contain them. Which might explain why one of my laborer colleagues was packing an empty Starbucks coffee (read, brown substance) cup in her outside backpack pocket for me to see much of yesterday.

What I cannot figure out is why the perps drop all these obvious clues; setting me up for a short 20 minute visitation because of the person's ill health (a legit concern), and then acting contrarily a short time later. It is not just a recent harassment ploy/jerkaround, but has been occuring for decades beforehand, but much more frequent now in this now overt incessant jerkaround campaign.

As part of the collegial visitation experience, it seemed that the bad acting of feigning empathy was also obvious; was it meant to be so or was it part of the script? I cannot reliably know anymore as the perps have been subverting my ability to detect these "tells" of feints and also of seeming minor boredom, as much of the meeting would of been scripted in advance. And too, anyone with MS is dealing with physical duress at every moment, and is less likely to be a proficient actor, pretending the conversation was all original and genuine.

The Victoria Fire Department also got into the act when walking toward the No. 1 firehall; three yellow and white trucks set off with a same colored command vehicle leading them, and to my surprise, no sirens or flashing lights. My batting average for the fire department vehicles to be coursing about on that route is about 20%, but always in emergency (or faux emergency as it seems) mode, or else singly without emergency lights or sirens. A silent drive by for the active fire department trucks it would seem, another never-before event. (There have been many fire department showings, the largest one was surrounding the adjacent residential tower with six firetrucks on three sides to then have the firemen gather in their pressed dark blue uniforms to stand around in an ersatz conference in the courtyard. I believe I posted pictures of this at least two months ago.

Tea and chocolate were duly consumed in my evening time tea break. I had plenty of on/off water-in-pipes noise start up, from the putative neighbor with the unerring timing of doing this so many times when making, eating/drinking and cleaning the dishes afterward. It doesn't matter when I have evening tea, 1900h to 2200h, this "neighbor" will start this same noise up at the same time. Ditto for while shaving in the bathroom, and don't forget, this same "neighbor noise" and same on/off style has followed me around in four of the last five residence locations. Only the rooming house, (09-2006 to 0-5-2007), was relatively free from this particular noise, though I should check my handwritten journals to be sure. To be accurate, there were plenty of other noises going on with regularity to compensate for this one time water-in-pipes noise absence.

Other noises have followed me to all eight of my residence locations since the harassment began in 04-2002. And the perps do like their victims to move around plenty, as it seems there are some geographic parameters they are attempting to determine. This maybe related to soil and underlying rock colors and types, and very likely the geomagnetic properties of one's location and the building they reside in. Regular readers will know that magnetic radiation is part of my harassment experience, with readings of 1600 gauss a few months ago, up from 200 gauss in late 2002. Not that the above mentioned doctor gave a shit, he didn't even write it down. And that fits with the plasma beams I see all day long, they being a magnetically controlled state of matter. Ditto on the blackish maser beams, filamentous fuzz and the fuzzy zinger balls constantly drifting in and out of view (even as I type this). Even the parabolic reflector of my desk lamp was pumping out regularly timed arced blackish wavefronts, and then it stopped when I paid more attention to this latest incursion method.

Other than the above outing, a dull day all told. I was allowed to read the Saturday national newspaper for the first time in some months, and don't ask me what the significance of that is. Time was when I would read it every weekend and then the "habit" just stopped cold. The perps have been interfering with reading, as I haven't read a book in over a year, save the one on the recent excursion two weeks ago. It was a found book at the guest house we stayed at for two nights. Coincidentally, ahem, the above mentioned MS suffering colleague cannot read any more, and has some minor speech impairments that he didn't have when we last worked together in 1999. What gets the perps so cranked up about me reading is also unkown to me, but they like to mess with the font size on this very computer, often changing it as I come back to a open tab in the browser.

2448h, next day technically.
This one is done.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Grining Elevator Greeter

What was so amusing for the Fuckwit that was about to pile into the elevator before I got out at 0655h this morning. Instead, he pointed me to the direction to get out past him, this grining figure of 6'4" (5" taller than me), and in a red shirt with a coffee cup in hand. My reaction, likely governed, was to stare at him like he was fucked out of his head, and I took off to leave this scene behind. It was the first time I have seen him, and I can only assume he was a Fuckwit entering the building at that hour when there is hardly anyone about.

Then onto the downtown trot to the bus stop where my daughter's former grade two Montessori Phillipino school teacher "happened" to arrive, placing a black and white checkerboarded bag next to me. I was glad to see her go, and she must of recognized me but didn't say anything. Another shill on the sick list.

Reading a newspaper became too much of a hassle on the bus, so I had to drop that habit after one day's attempt. The light filtering through the trees and buildings is rendered to be chopped and strobe like, not to mention the bus' lurching and swaying. End of that idea, and I suspect it wasn't mine in the first place.

I was on retail boxing at work (inside) until 1430h, then weeding, then outside for pumpkin picking and then back to weeding. I couldn't but help notice the perps kept on passing people or objects (vehicle mostly) in front of the sun to created momentary shade conditions, and then have me back in the sunlight again. The on and off sunlight games are of increasing importance it seems, and the perps continue to script good weather at this time of year. I don't particularly give a shit as to what their sunlit interests are, but what pisses me off is this constant strobe-like action, ensuring that dappled shade turns into a horrific stroboscopic nightmare.

This is going to be a brief posting as I need to get more sleep before waking up. No strange coincidences with the alarm this morning, unlike yesterday. The meat aerial games are still playing for whatever reasons the perps have.

Other wierd stuff was dogging me at the LD store with gangstalkers, and one woman in a purple sweater was leading me to the very aisle I was headed, and then we crossed paths again when she stopped, and again when I backtracked once she had moved on from the very item location I was planning to go. And just as I stepped back, why, she was directly behind me and I gently nudged into her, and she touched me on both shoulders in a steadying fashion. How she noiselessly got behind me to create this mild collision scenario I have no idea.

My bus riding pals that were around me all got off at the same bus stop as me, being a phalanx of Fuckwits to accompany me 60' to the crosswalk and then across the street. By then the fishing rod toting Fuckwit was also on me, holding his fishing rod horizonally 3' behind me when it was plain fucking stupid for all the people on the street. This is the third gangstalker fishing rod episode in a week, and it is getting tiresome.

That is all the news for today, much abbreviated to be sure, and only mentioning that the navy was out again to be seen patrolling with strange maser and plasmic emanations coming toward me with unerring repitition. It is the same for most aircraft, though the military ones seem to be even more maser prone than commercial ones.

Enough blathering and I am off to bed.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

New Shirt Day

The first day of wearing a new T-shirt that was a deep grey and made of fast wicking synthetic material. It hadn't been washed even, just straight from the store in Kamloops last week. The wearing of a new shirt will bring on plenty of perp silliness, and today was no exception. Just to think, I sent an order off for six more new shirts at Sierra Trading Post, so this stunt theme has plenty of action to come. The last time I had a new shirt was last year, the day of the film crew arrival and the film script I did with the director. (It all went bust afterward as the first of the two reels somehow got overexposed). In this situation I was under intensified camera lighting, and had worked feverishly on the written material all morning as the director gave me the wrong minutes/page reading times.

So today, I got at least six military helicopter fly-pasts, the new shirt being the same color as the aircraft. And I even got a black helicopter fly-past as well. This had a downward pointing landing light on, positioned in the middle of the passenger area, and making a 90 degree turn over where I was.

I was weeding all day today, only 120' from the four lane highway with ceaseless noise of passing vehicles, and motorcycles. In the latter category there was one per minute for a time, with extended trail-offs of their supposed exhaust noise. I didn't look at the road traffic too much while doing heads down weeding, but there were plenty of silver-grey vehicles with a red one embedded in the center, and another configuration was three identical model pickup trucks, all the same shade of white.

And to no surprise, my $8400 training grant application was turned down. The spiteful bullshit from the doctor was the stake in the back, and I have yet to sort this out with him. My mother said she would cover the cost of the two fall Oracle courses, so hopefully she will come through rather than jerking me around over the expensive progressive eyeglasses at Christmas time last year, stiffing me for half the cost when she said she would cover it all in advance. Somehow, I forgot this little behavioral jerkaround when putting the courses on my Mastercard a few days ago, so this back story might have some continued action. I can hardly wait.

The training grant also had a partial provision to get this here PC upgraded as part of the Oracle database performance upgrade. So that idea got squelched as well, and it will likely take much of my farm laborer earnings to pull this off. Another jerkaround was getting the CPU last week before today's refusal letter. I know better, but am constantly getting financially jerked around as part of the mind/life fuck show.

A short posting tonight and onto more strange dreams. Last night, they had me doing trail bicycle riding, and the instant I went over the jump, the alarm clock went off. Not unlike a 1989 ice hockey tournament when the puck came to my waiting hockey stick 5' in front of the other team's goal, and just before I was going to shoot the puck, the end of game buzzer sounded. It is amazing how they arranged that, as it was one game of three in a tournament.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Bump-Into-Me Stunt

A five minute shopping trip turns into a big deal when the browncoated operative at the checkout bumps into one, and when asked how she did it, she said "I didn't see you". Talk about beserk; everyone notices others at the checkout especially if they are ahead. I had five chocolate bars on the adjacent conveyor, and then the cashier went through some cashing out process with checks, bills and reciepts to hold me up all the more. Funny how any notion to get agressive on the faux errant jostling didn't happen. I have had enough of this bullshit, and want to be left alone.

And that wasn't the case for tattoos either; at least three on display getting there or in the store, and yet again I am obliged to confront the assholes with the mantra; if I don't like tattoos then why am I constantly gangstalked with them, and why is it anyone else's concern but mine?

And two skinheads, though chemo-heads might be a less charged way of saying the same thing. The guy at work today was pulling the same thing, taking his hat off for me to see his all bald pate just to gross me out it would seem.

And the negro gangstalking while undertaking a financial transaction at the ATM this morning. There was one posted at one ATM and I took the other and deposited my paycheck. And after I finished and stepped out onto the street, why the regular bus stop negro gangstalker was hot on my tail, putting on extra fast walking to keep pace with me on the crosswalk. The "regular" two negroes were on the bus, and I suppose this is all part of the negro gangstalking tagteam. Regular readers will know that there were three negro children clustered at the same location when I was headed to the same ATM machine. And too, when my brother recieved an unexpected bounteous payout of his auction items, a negro was there gangstalking his extended cash out. Yet again, I want to be left alone and I don't need anyone's liberal multicultural uptopic notions deployed around me. I have long made my own determinations, and if this happened during the three year recall blank out and gave me the notion that certain demographic groups had different behavior patterns, why does an Fourth Reich multinational covert operations group have to set me up with negroes every time I go to the ATM or otherwise witness a financial transaction? (Less than 3% negroes here). Just leave me the fuck alone.

A good day at the bulb farm; outside work, then unannounced inside work causing me to go out to the field when they knew the job was inside, and made themselves scarce at the break so I wouldn't ask them. This is the second time this bullshit has erupted, keeping the victim (me) clued out as to where the rest of the work team went. Then outside for the afternoon, finishing up the field work that had been hanging over our heads for the past three weeks. A sunny day, and a fantastic view of Mt. Baker, and I have no complaints about that. Pumpkin picking beckons for tomorrow.

And I see the morning bus stop area that we farm laborers use is ripped up with a street works project. A 18" deep trench has been dug for the sidewalk, and then they packed it with the road base gravel, and I assume, will pave it with concrete in short order. Other TI's will know that the perps constantly arrange street digging and trenching along my walking routes, and this would be another example of countless occasions.

And for excitement, read perp harassment antics, they arranged for a military helicopter fly by when I was out in the field picking bulbs. There was at least four back and forths, and I suppose having me outside, then inside, then outside was a big event as there were plenty of masers flitting and unfurling around me at the outdoor lunch table. Yesterday, after doing the refuse detail and dressed up in yellow vinyl, they put on a navy ship on manouvres not far away. As always, with military vessels and aircraft, there are strange blackish emanations from the craft, and they take about 2 to 4 second to arrive, long enough to get a good visual fix on the maser/wave pulse.

Time to post this one as the restless feet fuckover games are in process, and I am not sure how long I can stay connected.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Strange Activities

A short post for the early evenings now that I am back on the tenuous employment track. At least three of my work mates got fired today. The PTB decided they wanted reliable every day workers and the ones that had the flakey on/off attendance record were summarily dismissed. Mind you, we are casual laborers, so what was wrong with the summertime arrangements of showing when we wanted to? Anyhow, I am saving hard to get this PC upgraded and for my Oracle courses, so I am in the reliable group. The rules got changed, and no one told the poor schmucks who got whacked this morning. Down one freak and two individuals I could actually talk to.

I was picking bulbs in the field when another laborer and myself got the call for a "special job". We were kitted out in vinyl raingear, gumboots and gloves, and lo, if it wasn't to work on the refuse piles at the compost dump area. An experiment was in progress to demonstrate there is still a high amount of compostable refuse being thrown out, and why, they needed some of us laborers to sort out the plastics and true refuse from the stinking vegetable matter. Not a job for the faint hearted to be sure. For some five hours, myself and three others spent the time sorting through two refuse truck loads. One guy ran the front end loaders to do garbage pile "raking" to churn it up to aid identifying the compostable from the non-compostable. It is amazing that one's notion of "garbage" changes when faced with the stark realities of the stinking muck pile. It was also surprising as to what gets thrown out by the supermarkets; expired infant formula, expired coffee, and expired energy bars. And copious amounts of varying plastic, all for me to interact with while swaddled in bright yellow vinyl raingear, should I get splattered with some of the slop. I would guess that the perps were putting on a test of me dressed in vinyl with all the varying plastics in the garbage pile. Anyhow, it is a short term job, and I am glad it was over. Tomorrow, we pick pumpkins to take to the pumpkin washing line, and then to store them for Halloween.

This morning's bus stop was plagued with shiftless males, aka the gangtalker show. And when I had my wallet out to extract a dayglo bus ticket, three of the fuckers closed in on me, two about 6' away (on either side) and the foil some 2' from me says "excuse me" and I look at him while stalled out with my wallet in my hand along with the bus ticket, and I say "yes", and he said something about not meaning anything, and so it was all about getting the Fuckwits in close to me while my attention was directed to the close-in dude that gave me the creeps in the first place.

Anyhow, the city bus trip was slowly filling up when they put the near-vagrant dude next to the attractive blonde some two seats away, and then my conversational laborer colleague came on board for the trip. And, as it unfolded, after we exited the city bus, the driver of the crew bus then fired my colleague (per above). Anyhow, the crew bus set off and was only 100' when a male negro came out of nowhere and flagged us down, begining some confusion over as to what he wanted, and then he wanted to work on the farm, and so he was let on board. I never saw him the rest of the day at breaks or afterward, so who knows what the real scam was. A negro gangstalker consort while the firing news was still percolating in our minds, mine especially? Perhaps, as it seems the perp need no end of static and live props while doing their dirty deeds, or immediately following.

Thats all for tonight out there in TI land.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Shut In For What + minor updates

A Saturday shut-in day, unless one counts the 40' trips to the laundry room, one past two Fuckwit pretending to be going on a fishing trip at 1030h. (Get real). Said fuckers blocked the hallway outside the elevators on the way to the laundry room, save a narrow route next to the elevator doors. And lo, just at one Fuckwit picked up the blue and white plastic cooler, the doors opened without any of the usual preliminary sounds. Had the elevator made its usual pre-arrival noises, I would of stopped and let the hallway blocking Fuckwits board the elevator and be out of my way entirely. And it so happened, that the blue and white cooler the one Fuckwit picked up as I crossed his intended path, is identical in color and materials to the blue and white cooler my mother brought on the past week's excursion, a six day road trip with most of the food in it along with the salmon (see last posting), and a glycol leaking freezer block. (It would seem that glycol is another one of the pollutants the perps cannot yet understand, of the kind that somehow interferes with their remote energetic detection and mind-control capabilities). And too, I did own a larger cooler of identical materials and colors some 25 years ago, and was placed for me to walk past when at the ex's place for a First Feral Family dinner about two months ago.

Anyhow, it is one of the days when I am kept in, and without sufficient ambition to even step out and get a Saturday national newspaper. A forced 1.25 hour long nap also sucked up some time, and presumably I am somehow "tagged" with the energetic imprint of lying on the same bed sheets that were laundered this morning, albeit with the blanket between me and the sheets. So now I get to blog the most interesting snippets from last week, assuming I am allowed to remember them.

Highlights from the travel excursion this past week.

The food seemed to be a big deal; some was delivered to my out-of-town brother in Kamloops (salmon, per above), some was never eaten but had a round trip (brown crackers I supplied, two pints of blueberries of my mother with an additional small bag of frozen ones supplied by my sister-in-law for the trip back), some was left behind (ginger beer from my fridge -read, brown liquid) and didn't get packed for the return trip, being "left behind" at my brother's place), and a bounty of fruit. The lastmost is a topic in its own right; bananas were taken but I somehow never got to eat one and the blueberries too (per above). we bought 20lb of peaches, 20lb of apples, 2lb of grapes, and one one melon. The two 20lb boxes were split among my brother (who already had a similar quantity of apples on hand), my mother and me. A First Feral Family sharing of fruit, so we will see how this plays out. I was once "allergic" to peaches, a sudden eruption condition of 15 years ago, but is no longer the case. Could this be more yellow and red color games again? Regular readers will know that one of the minor or benign obsessions of the perps is my fruit consumption; both color and sugar content seem to be important for the assholes, and possibly even the ambient light source (sun, artificial, including the time of the day). The perps tell me that there is a problem for them with the properties of the fructose molecules, but as always, this comes from a unreliable source, and I don't give a shit anyway, being long purged of any nascent interest in chemistry.

Other feints and dodges was having me outside in the sunlight on the deck, and the various First Feral Family players switching seats, and then when I came back in, my mother went back out and sat in the same seat as I did, seeming to replicate my sun/orientation experience. Regular readers will also know of the perps interest in sunlight exposure, sun angle, and how it interacts with one's skin and possibly deeper effects such as vitamin D production. They tried me out on tanning booths back before they made themselves overt in 04-2002, and now they stopped me from using them by shutting down the tanning studio before I arrive. I don't have the money for this indulgence anyhow, and I sincerely doubt that they would let me continue with a regular regimen of tanning. BUT, this past summer, they did make me purchase two tan-through shirts and allowed a tanned back, but not a tanned front. I suppose it is no coincidence that the number of brown dressed gangstalkers, including vehicles, has increased of late, and this might be due to the brown skin on my back that was permitted, the first tan since 2003. They did permit tanning au naturel in 2003 at the local beach for that group, (suddenly uninhibited too), but seemingly, it didn't allow them to figure out whatever it is about tanning and tanned brown skin that they are so desperately researching by life-raping me and other TI's. I find it interesting that T. T. Brown, a brilliant scientist who was connected to the powers that be(PTB), took every opportunity to sunbathe without clothes on. He wrote a small treatise on how to control gravity when 24 y.o. in 1929, calling it "electrogravitics" and somehow, this knowledge has never been pursued, at least publically. See the links under Scientific Sources, or this one.

I am running out of time today, having pursued some interesting links on electrogravitics, so the above will have to suffice as today's posting. Pehaps more stories will unfold as to the goings on, but for now, this is it. And no decent pictures of arranged skullduggery this trip, as the perps seem to be backing off on photogenic harassment/orchestration events while away.

There won't be a posting for today, so this is an add-on instead.

I got the proverbial jerkaround after paying my evening course tuition online; "somehow" the wrong credit card expiry date got added in, and I expressly remember reading it and entering it correctly. Anyhow, that begat some emails and phone calls, and so I had to re-register using the same credit card. Hopefully this is done with. Just one more example of the senseless fuckery that an TI is exposed to when making financial transactions. Surely there are enough online credit card fuckups that they are monitoring they don't have to mess me up as well. But no, life isn't just unfair, it is abusively targetted to be made much more adverse. And why do I need a waiting posse every time I use my debit card at the supermarket checkout, not to mention the litany of password fuckups, re-scans of the card and the rest of of the throat clearing as I use the card?

About two months ago at the ATM, they even put on three young negro children to swarm me at the bank's doorway entrance, the mother seeming oblivious to this cluster fuck. Then, two weeks later the same family posse "shows up" on the 0705h bus and the same children sit beside me while the mother does the chat thing with another negro who "happened" to be nearby. So what next while making a financial transaction? Read the list of the Unfavoreds; vagrants, big hat acts, geriatrics and the rest of these demographic groups and expect them too. It is totally consistent.

Back from a First Feral Family dinner; my mother, brother and his Thai girlfriend. The latter has very poor English and it is difficult to understand her, but I was doing OK the last time I spoke with her, but tonight for "some reason" I couldn't decode much of what she said. Which to me, spells remotely applied cognitive dithering and in conjunction with my brother and mother talking loudly at the same time, it made it all very difficult to understand what she was saying. And of note, this is the perfect perp setup, keeping me on the edge of cognition, slipping in and out of understanding what was being said, while another conversation was taking place. Needless to say, this bullshit went many rounds (three at least), and I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of there so to take a break from this very odd situation. They gave me a ride back to my place in her burgundy vehicle, saving me the bus trip and the freakshow that goes with it.

About an hour before dinner my brother phones to say his girlfriend (sort of) was coming too, which got my mother all fussed for the next 1.5 hours as they came 30 minutes late. Which made it very strange that they brought cooked corn to be shared by all, and it needed some 15 minutes to be reheated again. I could not figure out how this got arranged, making last minute arrangements changes of adding an extra person, and then having the prerequisite amount of corn ready. It was too weird to figure out, and no one wanted to explain how this was arranged and why. Another FUD-fuck (Fear, Uncertainty, and Doubt) it would seem. Anyhow, I am glad to be back at this online world, as I had enough of my mother's ditzing, and then this cognitive dithering on top of it.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Have Salmon, Will Travel

A brutal fuckover yesterday while driving down from Kamloops to Vancouver, and then onto Vancouver Island. The assholes pulled a new one, forcing premature and sudden needs to pee just after leaving the highway, the first two times. Not that I pee-ed very much, but it was important to them that pee went flying out and missing the toilet, and then wetting me twice. These were sudden gas station stops where I was forced to pull over to deal with the situation as I had no intention of stopping at that point. I can go for over six hours without needing to pee, so what the fuck was going on that the assholes had to wet me?

Then it got worse, as we made a stop at Ikea, and after going through the checkout and getting the major items, including four bare wood shelves that were rained upon in a sudden rainburst that was in place for me exiting the building and packing them in the shopping cart to the vehicle in the open parking lot. My mother wanted to go back in and go to the washroom, and so we went back in. Then, they pulled another sudden "need" to pee again, with the same messy result. Worse though, they shitted me in my drawers while pee-ing, and forced a sudden and very messy crap. There was at least ten flushings to deal with the clean up, which included taking off my pants and then removing my underwear. And while dealing with this never-before incursion of crap games (outside of my apartment), a dude on the outside of the cubicle placed his brown shoe so it could be seen my me while dealing with this insane mess. Then a fucker from the left side did the same thing, encroaching his slightly different brown colored shoe into the cubicle for me to see only no less than 30 seconds later, while still dealing with the shit show. And they made sure to slap some of it on my hand and my leg, and the underwear got left behind. Needless to say, from the TI perspective, there was a sudden burst of extensive gangstalkers/activity in the washroom while I was dealing with this fucking mess, but they were all gone when I finally exited. (None there when I entered). My mother asked why I took so long in the washroom, as if she didn't know. Then she insisted on getting some tea and a cinamon bun each before we motored onto the ferry. I also loaded up on Ikea chocolate and lingonberry jam (red colored). Just before backing the vehicle out, a black VW Beetle pulled in beside me, a woman gets out of the passenger side and gives me this grim protracted stare. Like WTF; why does this happen so often? And do I get extra staring when sans underwear?

Then a two hour wait at the ferry terminal, all to keep me there, still without underwear, and reading the newspaper while the dusk onset began. Regular readers will know the perps are totally beserk at this time of day and plan all kinds of stunts and jerkarounds. Then on board the ferry they pulled another sudden panic pee, again with messy results, but less wetting of me. Small comfort. Anyhow, another panic pee when we got back to the First Feral Family home where I stayed last night because my mother doesn't drive at night.

And lo, if one of the gangstalkers walking the lane line between the vehicles wasn't an former Asian work colleague, followed 5' behind a Caucasian fucker in a red shirt, someone who looked vaguely familiar. What he was doing there and looking so absurd walking the line of vehicles as if lost at 1900h wasn't too clear, but what the hell, the perps aren't interested in feigning reality as often as they were once. There were at least three camera-like light flashes on the ferry trip, again, no camera or evidence of anyone using one. What this was about I have no idea, but it represents another first, proximate light flashes of no apparent causal. Exciting moments for a perp fucker no doubt.

Oh yes, the salmon mention in the title. As it "so happens", my brother and family left some just-frozen salmon in the freezer at my mother's place in July when visiting. My mother remembered to bring it up with us Sept. 12 when headed to Keremos/Cawston for a stay at the guest house with a winery. But, the rooms had no fridge and the proprietor "kindly" allowed it to be stored in his restaurant freezer. And what did I, the near-fully mind controlled me, order for dinner that night, why salmon. And the next night, while having an appetizer instead of a large entre portion, why smoked salmon on some kind of esquisite cracker and trimmings. And lo, when we headed off to my brother and family, bringing the aforementioned frozen salmon with us, what did we have that night for dinner? Why salmon of course. Anyhow, back in the strange days of intensified fuckery of 2002, Ms. C. of the story (right side panel for a link), provided me smoked salmon to eat on my 0500h drives from her place in Everett, WA to Victoria BC, doing my biweekly daughter visitations. (That were unilaterally constrained by various jerkarounds by the estranged ex-to be of the time). Anyhow, as the perps are totally consumed with the color of foods that I eat, sometimes for four or more hours later, and possibly into the next day, I suppose packing salmon on a 800km road trip, and having this regular reference salmon with us, is not a big extension to what they do all the time. It is just interesting as to how it evolved, and of course, I am rendered totally clueless as to the intent of the skullduggery that I am allowed to even know about. Such is life as a kept victim. I rather be in jail for the clarity it offers to one's existence, assuming those poor schmucks aren't under the same covert thumb. (Not forgetting the perps' constant fuckery over clothing colors as well, and all that population wearing much the same garb and eating the same food and living in the same building, why, it must be tempting for a perp to "drop in", covertly of course. Just idle speculation of course, ahem...

I am doing pleny of catch up reading tonight, so not a big posting, and then off to work tomorrow, even if only a Friday, to then find out what the work scene beckons next week. Going to work on a week to week basis really messes up one's planning horizon, right down to pondering monthly bus passes or not. (But as an aside, the new bus schedule indicated that monthly bus passes can be written off against income taxes; a most civilized gesture of the very efficient taxation Canadian government).

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Pre-Excursion Wrap Up

This will be a two day posting, as I have these days off do deal with the training funding application (with meetings), part of which will be an information night tonight at the community college.

The latest "manufactured" crisis was that the email work reference I recieved from my foreman didn't work for the employment case manager, so some web sleuthing was needed to figure that one out.

Meanwhile, the much-loathed Harely Davidson motorcycle noise erupted just after I put the earmuffs on, somehow getting through them from six stories down. Another case of sound/noise volume management, ensuring I get the correct dose at my ears, no matter what hearing protection I employ. Even my fingers in my ears aren't as effective as they used to be; go figure.

I am am doing a week long excursion to the interior British Columbia, the Okanagan wine region in particular. I leave Saturday and come back Thursday, in time to catch a day's work on Friday next week and find out if there is work for the following week. That is how it goes, this seasonal farm work, all at the same farm of course. But it is most peculiar as they are keeping a daily classified ad in the newspaper, indicating the are looking for workers to mid-December. Hopefully, I can get two more weeks in after this excursion to cover the PC upgrade that seems to becoming more part of the planning process, and in concert, taking the Oracle database courses in the evening starting October 06.

As before, I don't call this getaway a holiday, as the harassment and jerkarounds will be constant, though generally less when I am with another party, even if it is a First Feral Family member who started this insane abuse train since my birth. And still the assholes are attempting to purge my reactions to many things/people on the Unfavored list. The lastest has been negro swapping in rural farm country, where there weren't any to be seen, but suprise, they just now "show up" all of a sudden, the city bus commutes being their stage for these props/shills/Unfavored demographic group members. They had a regular cafe-au-lait (light colored) negro onboard when I boarded the bus in the mornings, and who ostensibly rode most of my trip time to a regular employer in rural-dom, but he and his toque-in-summer act stopped a few days ago, and then a darker negro dude got on the bus stop after mine, and then sat in the cafe-au-lait's favorite seat on the driver side rearmost seat. They put on shills ahead of me to guide me to the next forward facing row seat in front of him, and I had his visage in my rearmost vision if I turned my head back to look at a vehicular distraction; e.g. clusters of same colored vehicles, configurations etc.

And they put on a very black negro on the afternoon inbound bus, usually on the lower deck to discourage me from sitting there, and going up to the upper deck. This is the same weird with the partial gold painted dark jeasns pants, most visible from the back when he gets off inside a three or four (both) stops. Though, they did "get me" once on the double decker bus with the regular skinny downstairs negro, and then an second upstairs negro, just as black, strangely wearing a gold fabric ball cap. Then this latter negro "happened" to be loitering outside the bus at the first negro's regular bus stop, and where the bus sits for a few minutes for a timing stop. But he didn't get on the bus, but hung around and then wandered off. Funny how this goes, these visual "tag team" negros with the gold fabric prop, both being extremely black.

Other Unfavored action is at the farm, featuring a Caucasian dreadlock hair dude, about the most disgusting head coverage after the male skinhead (totally bald) look. This dreadlock hurl-do as it has been named in past blog postings, continues to make late entrances, usually after work has begun and I have been at the work location for a half hour or so, and comes by in the guise of a late arrival, looking for where he might be assigned. He has his head/hair mostly obscured in a hoodie at this early juncture. My workmate usually talks to him and tells him where to find the timekeeper and head grower and the perps have me keep my head down to avoid looking at this freak. Then, over the course of the day, he does a walk by (aka "parade-by"), usually in the guise of moving to another job or worksite, and has incrementally greater amounts of his fugly hurl-do exposed. yesterday, they put on a full press "parade by", having at least four males walk past in a slow troll, seemingly onto another job en masse. Then, if in the opinion of the perps, I have had enough exposure for the day, the dreadlock dude disappears early and does his late arrival act for the next day. A whole week's relief from deadlocks beckons, though I haven't left town yet.

Another weirding out player at the farm site of the past week has been the one E. Indian turban act, down from at least four last year. While marshalling for the morning's work assignment, they have me at the warehouse entrance, either outside or just inside the 20' wide door, and the turban act does various distance dependent loiterings, he being on the inside when I am outside, and vice versa, and almost always stops to chat or play "peekaboo" by obscuring himself behind another person, one that I converse with usually and has a longer track record of close-in time. This turban act then "happened" to arrive at the corner of the warehouse where I working before lunch time, and then again afterward, in the guise of friendly daffodil bulb lobbing with the one person who knows him from a few years ago. Yesterday, he arrives behind me just before lunch, with poly plastic partially draped over him in some kind of (faux) mock antic, the humor of which entirely escaped me. Later in the afternoon, just as I was going to the outdoor sheltered picnic table for the break, there he is in the partial inside/outside lighting of the large door, again with the same poly plastic draped over him for some obscure reason.

Another color game there was a one-time event; the DHL truck and delivery man were in their bright red and yellow livery, again in this same large door delivery entrance to the warehouse, in the above mentioned half light of a N. indirect sunlight exposure and the inside mercury arc lamps 35' above. And extra light/plasma games were in place to ensure the DHL dude in red and yellow was particularly backlit, so much so that I could barely make out the atrocious color combination. (Have I mentioned I absolutely loathe bright red and yellow together in combination, and the sight of ketchup and mustard, particularly at fairgrounds and other venues of junk food excess, is about the most vile sight I know? At least once per week.) Other Unfavored and gangstalk/harassment theme fuckery was that the DHL truck was picking up a pallet load of boxed retail flower bulbs, likely ones me and my confreres had packed that morning, and that the pallet load was secured with upteen rounds of industrial cling wrap while I was having my break time. This is consistent with the Cling Wrap fuckery I get everytime in my kitchen, and the surge (four) of co-workers at least once, while I was unwrapping Cling Wrap from my break time snack. The Cling Wrap and the rest of the various plastics exposures has been totally consistent from early harassment days, and still, I get downtown irrigation service vehicles with 20' sections of PVC pipe circling the block in my proximity. Like, where is the downtown irrigation job anyhow? Never mind "getting lost" downtown.

Another event of similar proportions was getting on the bus, ordinarily a very simple event, but was augmented with yet more red/yellow, dayglo and brown color games. A "maintenance worker" in a lime green dayglo coat with reflective banding "happened" to be working outside the bus stop at 0700h, pulling his trolley with a vile red and yellow vinyl bags onboard. And just when the bus is arriving, he his putzing with a MacDo's drink container (think brown colored contents in a red and white container), and then flips it with his litter picker stick some 4' in front of me into the gutter where the lid pops off and the brown pop contents disgorge into the gutter that has a small stream of water headed downstream toward the direction of the bus. (The street sweeper machine loads up at the nearby hydrant and some water "happens" to leak out and turn the street corner and into the bus lane; have I also mentioned the street sweeper at odd hours in the past?) Then the seeming maintenance dude flips the vessel into my path, so I wait. Then somehow, a brown bag also arrived into this little brown color vignette, and lo, if the maintenance man doesn't do some more putzing around in front of the bus, obstructing in getting to it, until I get impatient enough (read, mind fucked planted sensation), to step through at a seeming availble moment, only to have the litter picker stick thrust into my boot before getting on board. All like clockwork, this bullshit event, and presumably to get me cued/readied on brown colors before getting on board the bus with the above mentioned cafe-au-lait dude lounging in the back seat.

Obviously, the sight of brown colored vehicles is still "too much" in some way, as they are only used sparingly in the latter part of the vehicular gangstalk show, and metallic light tan brown at that, one that runs into at least two thousand vehicles or more on the highway commute to the farm job. Though, interestingly, they have been upping the number of copper colored vehicles in this show, and even dared to put two together with the usual consort of white, silver-grey and other greyscale colors.

Ah yes, the sound of local jackhammering of concrete, and it is for real, as they started up just when I exited the local supermarket, less than 200' away. The sidewalk that is almost opposite this apartment building needs improvement it seems, and so they moved the temporary street light pole on a 2" thick chunk of steel to the street (asphalt surface) from the sidewalk (concrete surface).

I have made two outings today, getting ready for going away for a week, and finishing up on my training fund application, and pondering if the employment case manager is going to get this submitted today, or do I spend the entire away-time in a minor FUD state, wondering if was delayed for some reason that hasn't yet been declared. I am monitoring my email over this one, and there has also been some interaction with the PC builder. Coincidentally, after I finished up an email and sent it, I went out on my outings. The perps like to have a post-event troll where they can get their gangstalkers out after a "big event" (for them). They consistenly noisestalk me when sending an email, as they do for Windows select, copy and paste commands, so this is all too exciting, going outside on the heels of sending an email. Regular readers will know they have done this after sending off a job application via email, and other variants.

I did a city bus freakshow trip last night with the dusk onset. Needless to say, the red color gangstalking was in an increased state. They had me surrounded on the bus with the protypical blonde babe in black (I was wearing a black shirt and a black coat with a black cordura briefcase), with a black bag. I got the brown dressed dweebes, and an Asian playing with his one grey gloved hand near his crotch to simulate you-know-what, and then the crab trap fishermen again, happened to walk by with a red and white cooler and the folded down wire crab trap. I see one of these every two months or so, and it seems to be the shopping basket with vagrant prop that I see on the street with exceptional frequency.

And I see from this morning's outings that the trendy color for the surge of shiftless males (read, gangstalkers) is a light green sage green, identical to that of the shirt I am wearing and the trim on my walking shoes that are in a state of high wear and due for replacement.

On the in-apartment harassment front I am getting plenty of crumb teleportation and strange spills. The fresh coffee grounds somehow did a lateral spill from the spoon they were on and that didn't move, with a nice little collection of grounds on the spout of the unfilled coffee pot. I got the usual crumb show on the cooktop as part of the deal, but strangely, not the nearly-every-morning coffee grounds spill that arrives at the back of the stove, at least 1.5' from the coffee pot. Even the most predictable years long crumb show gets changed up. Though it is interesting to note that as soon as I clean up one crumb spill or a large crumb, the perps will immediately re-direct my attention to another crumb or facsimilie of like size. Call it "crumb shifting" perhaps.

Other escalated strangeness is the hairs that arrive on me, and the razor immediately after getting out of the shower and while shaving. Mostly they look as if from me, being the same color as mine. Though of late thick black hairs are arriving sometimes in mid shave, as if some kind of localized disturbance factor. And they even place one such hair in my cereal bowl last week while eating them. I call all of these dog hairs, an ironic name as I do not have a dog. My black stretch cordura pants I wear to work on the farm job are also getting inundated with hairs and lint variants.

I am going to call this one done for today as I don't see much exciting will happen, and take a whole week off from everything online and connected via the internet.

Monday, September 07, 2009

Back to School

The Labor Day long weekend is ending, and I stayed over at my mother's place last night, the First Feral Family home the sickos like me to visit once per week or so. It was too wet to do any serious gardening work, and I was caught without my gumboots there, as they are normally kept there for that purpose. I got some hand-me-down socks that were formerly my father's, now in the old folks home. This would suggest the perp's foot fetish is still going strong, and the recent stunts suggest the same. The assholes have forced my pee stream on two occasions this weekend to land on my right foot, once with socks on, once with my extra-rapidly wearing walking shoes. Needless to say I was highly infuriated each time, and it is all part of this insane show they decided to put me into, becoming evident in 04-2002.

And my latest stress event, the biggest of the year, ironically by way of the doctor who is obstructing my training funding request because of his sudden concerns (never before discussed), about stress, has been widely discused with/mentioned my farm job coworker, my ex who rarely phones, and my mother at least twice. The perps are getting plenty of mileage out of this and what I am going to say to the bastard who pulled this stunt. This is the same doctor when I first met him at a consult scheduled the next one for three months later. He wasn't too concerned then when meeting a new patient, but all of a sudden he went wacko when a reference letter was needed and pulled this one out of thin air without any phone call to explain it. And nor did he consult a recent work reference that would of apprised him of my workplace behavior/capabilities. Nor did he seem to want to negotiate in a three way phone call with the employment case manager either. Fucking weird, this Ghandi-like smiling and benign E. Indian suddenly pulling out the metaphoric shiv at the critical moment. But given the amount of time I am forced (IMHO) to think about what I will say to these clowns at the next doctor appointment, and the varying emotionally loaded versions I ponder, I suspect this entire clinical quisling stunt is all about getting thought-time, for eventual delivery Oct 05 when I see him, and maybe her, in person. Funny that neither phoned me as to what the fuck is going on, putting the kibosh on $14k of training funding (though overlapped) between them. The second round isn't over yet, as the 1" thick paper application isn't yet handed in, and will be finalized Thursday and Friday, killing two income producing days, another annoyance as these are relative rarity for me.

But he wasn't alone; this was precipitated by the health case manager pulling something similar, again without a phone call to explain what in the fuck this sudden burst of clinical beserkness is all about, and in doing so, dashing any expectation of getting funding from a provincial government source for the same training funding. She managed to crap on the above doctor and me at the same time by saying my case "wasn't well managed". Har, har; this is the most highly managed TI case in world history possibly, right down to the color of my clothing and every thing I see, and as mentioned many times, my every thought. It seems they have some brainstem areas yet to be able to remotely control and thereby, fuck with. My attention shifting gets noisestalked, and any realizations of relevant fact (planted by them I suspect) will beget me a plasma flash usually in yellow or green, or a sudden refresh displaying a green line and/or a dialog box if online with Windows. Other Windows freakish behavior is the wrong tab displaying, a sudden refresh with the wrong site and a few other non-standard browser and Windows behaviors.

But my mother, who is in on the entire harassment/abuse gig, did offer encouragement as to persevering through the above mentioned doctor's machinations, so maybe this training funding event/application has legs yet. And she was supportive of the PC upgrade I am contemplating, one that will cost me a bundle (and her $400) and will need to be financed from future earnings, always a tenuous plan given the high degree of introspection and sabotage over all things employment related. She also gets my hand-me-down PC components in a new PC case, and I am sure there is plenty of future perp research mileage in this, as per above, they are relentless and constantly fixated on the color of everything, and that includes the PC wiring insulation, power supply, circuitboard, memory socket, CPU socket and any other PC component colors. This looks like another year's worth of perp testing and research while we respectively go online, use the PC, my mother using most of my old one in a new box, me on a new motherboard, CPU, memory and storage. Regular readers will know she uses my old 15" LCD display panel, and that the perps often undertake their research of complex interaction objects, e.g. a PC, in carefully planned increments. Hence the new 21" LCD panel in 12-2008, the new power supply in 06-2009 (suitable for this big upgrade). And if this upgrade comes together, financially and physically, why, a Windows 7 upgrade is planned a month later, possibly with a solid state storage upgrade to run the rather CPU intensive Oracle database software course work the training funding is to support. In other words, a whole lot of momentum, some reverses, and some optimistic (aka future portent/hints) support from my mother over this confluence of funding application, 2x/week course work and PC upgrades. And too, the week to week job security may also have legs to carry me without going in the hole again.

No real school yet until all of the above nonsense is worked through, and it starts Oct. 06 anyhow.

Time to get this done and onto the post-Labor Day school start/city bus craziness that will surely unfold tomorrow.

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Church Bells and the Ringing Thing Fetish

It is reasonably legit, church bells on a Sunday, though at varying times from week to week. But it does make me wonder if it isn't part of the interest my tormentors have in their interest in having objects, particular ceramic ones in the household situation, vibrate and ring. No end of knocking sounds and ringing of the peanut butter jar erupt each morning, even if I am very careful and the knife is not in contact with the vessel, and a myriad of other like faux causal bashing/ringing noise starts up when I am handling the crockery. My call is that this is part of the "torsional fields" that are identified as part of the omniplasma continuum, something we presently call the void of empty space. See some of the links in the "Relevant Science for Action at a Distance Energies" section to the right.

This is the Labor Day weekend, and there hasn't been any let up in the hassle factor, per above mention of the peanut butter jar as one example. There were plenty of extra faux bashing noise and vibration of the jar as this was the last remaining peanut butter in the jar. And as regular readers will know, the placement of a brown substance on bread, with a red jam on top, is of intense interest to the perps, as they jerk me around consistently every morning with the extra noise, peanut butter that flies off the knife, peanut butter that teleported itself (didn't fall from the knife) from knife to counter top and managed to arrive in the 2" space between the plate and the jar without contacting either (yesterday), and other games that I have mentioned in the past. One can be sure they make me vocalize some form of complaint or outrage 99% of the time for this event. And who would of thought that a multi-billion dollar per year covert harassment/abuse agency would go wacko (not unlike a the recent doctor's eruption) over a red substance placed over a brown substance at breakfast? But if one extrapolates to the state of human physiology and morphology, and the perps constant and abidding interest in all things brown (e.g. 7.5 year's worth and a newfound 3x/day chocolate "habit") and especially excrement (inside one, in the toilet and sewers), then one can reasonably make the assumption that there is a connection and that they haven't yet finished studying my responses to these color combinations. They stopped me from wearing brown colored clothes in late 2003 or early 2004, as unrepairable holes erupted in the garments, so until that is permitted again, I can assume they are still dicking around in the bowels of their brown color problem, literally and figuratively. Not my problem, so why am I in this so deep? Drowning me in a vat of chocolate would of been more humane.

Anyhow, it is a Sunday, with the routine of visiting my father in the old folks home, taking him back to his former home, and sitting around outside, or maybe inside today, as the rain has come on. Needless to say, this is an opportunity to fill up on the perp's need for my wheelchair sightings, as it is a decidedly Unfavored subject to see or even mention. How that came about I have no idea, but it may have to do with the 99% blanked out years aged two to five, two of them in Montreal in the 1950's, a time of clinical infamy for those who know of the successful lawsuit that began there and followed the trail to the USA and the CIA for gross medical malpractice. It was called "psychic driving", but was more about scooping vulnerable patients and trashing their minds and attempting to remake them. If I saw any of it I don't remember, at least consciously. The juxtaposition of wheelchairs and Scottish accents as part of my 7.5 year constancy of Unfavored gangstalking stunts is a rather ominious clue for those who know the story of Dr. Ewen Cameron.

As I write this I am having a relatively minor break from the constant typo sabotage that has been endemic for the past few years. I wonder if the regular abusers are off this weekend and perhaps there is a change up of personnel as it seems this is also an induction time for new sicko recruits. Many of my former swim club colleagues took a year off under various guises, and then came back, and I could never figure this one out. Those I knew had a cover story, but others were decidedly defensive about it. Funny how that happens.

No big revelations since lunch, apart from the four trolling (20mph) equi-spaced W. bound sedans on 900 block View Street, seen just as I sat at my desk afterward. Amazing all this precision timing, arranged for a 10 second interval at best, a glance outside before starting on more online activity like this. The color combination was white, black red and brown, nothing too odd if photographed, but when dealing with the above mentioned color combinations of red and brown, and two oppposite greyscale colors of black and white, it all makes relative sense. Not forgetting that my brown colored breakfast cereal flakes come with black and white flecks, no matter which kind I purchase. This "salt and pepper" color (greyscale ones) combination is abounding, but to embed them in my cereals for the past five years smacks of an obsessive need to compare colors to greyscale ones at every possible moment. No wonder my green shirt suddenly erupted in dye drop outs and had to be ditched.

Off to the First Feral Family and the rest of the show.

Friday, September 04, 2009

A Hurl-do to Dread

A late day start to this posting, and I will likely roll it into tomorrow's. [No, I won't; suddenly all of this posting spilled out].

Minor highlights of the day, spent picking daffodil bulbs on the conveyor or in the field, was the continued gangstalker activities of presenting this gormless Caucasian male Fuckwit with a dreadlock hairdo. And do I loathe the sight of dreadlocks more than tattoos? Ask them. They had him put his hoodie on to cover the hair mess up as it was so repugnant, and then slowly allow it to slip or a dreadlock to stick out for later sightings. They also sent him out away from the bulb sorting when I made a rare trip to visit it after loading the hopper. And just when I look up, why, there is dreadlock dude striding in, some 20' away. If I fucking loathe the sight of dreadlock hairdos, aka "hurl-dos", then why do I have a multi-billion dollar covert agency on my ass every waking minute of my life to arrange this bullshit in multiple vignettes? In past work days they have sent this same fucker home early as they divined I couldn't stand the sight of him, but now the assholes are sticking me with full days with this visual mess in my proximity, increasing the opportunities to be assigned another look at this unsightly specimen. The same bullshit goes down for male ponytails, male long hair, male (all in fact) skin heads and like facsimilies in the broader gangstalking milieu, so I can assume this procession of different hurl-dos will not subside any time soon. They have also been sticking me with a long-hair male as well, to his shoulders, which is bad enough.

This morning on the bus they had me surrounded with five grey haired women, two of whom sported butch-like short hair, one sitting behind the other as if they didn't know each other. This kind of hairdo is rare in these parts, and it is rarer that the morning bus would suddenly have two such passengers for the first time, one arranging themselves behind the other. And too, one jumped on ahead of me, and the other followed me, a serial-like "split couple" gangstalking perhaps. Maybe, they didn't really know each other, but it was odd that they didn't even strike up a conversation.

And what is the deal with the ongoing back-and-forth ambulatory gangstalkings? While on the hopper loading job, I am 30" off the ground on a stack of plywood pallets, staying in one place. There were no end of traipsing employees passing behind me, but two E. Indians, one turbaned, the other not, came by, rubbed their chins as in deep thought, and reversed their ambulatory path. The ball capped E. Indian did this twice in 30 minutes, the turbaned one did it only once.

Another variant on the traipsing employees was the bulb box acts. These a black plastic boxes that number in the tens of thousands at this site are for holding about 20lb of daffodil bulbs 20"x14"x8", but they are used like legos sometimes to build a ersatz counter, and packing produce other times. The latter use/act seems to be how to hold the plastic box, with or without contents, in as many different ways around the presumed gangstalker's head. There is the one shoulder carry (loaded with root crops usually), the dangle the box behind one's back (empty), place it on one's head upside down, and a few other variants that are totally ridiculous. But still the show goes on, now at least three weeks so far.

Anyhow, I will post this, and continue the saga tomorrow, whatever is allowed to be recalled.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

The Toques and Scarves of August

A late start to blogging, and I will carry this over to Sept. 02. Yes, I know this is Sept. 01, but it has been clear that the sickos have increased the number of gangstalkers wearing toques and scarves, even in this warm weather. And that includes today's absurdity; one person wearing both, as if it were November, though he was in the shade all day on the daffodil bulb conveyor line. I am still slinging daffodil bulbs for my seasonal farm employer, and was glad for payday today so I could save it for paying off my income tax bill next year. Woo-hoo, saving for paying taxes. Even us low-income schmucks must pay taxes, and a $300 hit in March or so is one that I spend much of they later months trying to recover from. I never did get out of the hole for the duration of the cleaning job, $400/month, Jan. to July 2009. only by by picking berries and then daffodil bulbs did I finally end up with a positive balance at the end of the month. It used to be that my disability check would be posted to my account, and it only reduced the line of credit (owing), not even putting me back in the black. Now, PC upgrades beckon, and that is a big wad of cash I don't yet have, but it seems the excitement level is building ready or not. Which means that prudent and rationale financial behavior isn't allowed by the perps, as I have had no problem with this in the past. And of course there is the $200 to $250 chocolate bill each month, all in service to the perp's insane preoccupation with the color brown, especially when inside my mouth. I don't drink cola drinks as I find them too sweet, but I am sure others are doing this for the almighty brown cause that predominates the harassment panalopy.

Another laundry jerkaround stunt tonight; some paper in my pockets went into the laundry and the assholes dispersed it in a fine layer of fibers all over the items. Another laundering seems to have taken care of the worst of it, but it is one more example of this ongoing imposition of adversity over the strangest of subjects, laundering. The perps have been pre-occupied with fucking my laundry for over seven years now, and that would include laundering at various shills and quisling residences, e.g. Ms. C, First Feral Family, and generic laundromats where the gangstalkers loiter and perform their respective acts.

And post payday, a big push on blue colors in the road traffic and gangstalker clothing. I have remarked in past blog postings that the perps like to put blue dressed gangstalkers around when I make a purchasing decision or when paying at the checkout. Well, today was the reciept of a paycheck, and lo, if there were a plethora of blue dressed gangstalkers, especially downtown. This would be a mid-blue color, the same as the body of my backpack which was in my lap for the 50 min. bus ride from farm to downtown. They even drove vehicles on the sidewalk, placed them on the crosswalk for a blue electric scooter to arrive and block all of the crosswalk, and drove vehicles down the wrong side of the street for some 60' as part of the ongoing frenetic insanity of the orchestrated Potemkin Bubble the assholes like to keep me in.

Another late blog entry, largely because my training grant application needs to be completed for tomorrow, and it still isn't finished. I will be at home, and lo, if the toilet fixing assholes won't be arriving to join me. The tank mechanism broke on the weekend; a temporary fix is to turn the water valve on only for flushing and recharging and shut it off thereafter. This nonsense started up four days ago, and I keep getting promises that it will be fixed manana. And of course I was out working the past three days and they could of come then, but no, the assholes want to fix it when I am here, slogging away on this application. The inaugural toilet install when I moved in was to have an E. Indian repairman all over it, fussing around, so perhaps this is a repeat, attempting to separate brown color sources. I wonder if he has, or will, crap in it while I am out. I have no idea what goes on here while I am out, and I am sure there is plenty of opportunity with the teleportations games I am so familiar with.

09-03-2009, Thursday
A working day at home essentially as I had the training course funding meeting to attend, and as always, it is last minute preparation when there was plenty of time in advance. Another long standing perp SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) is to have the victim behind on commitments and deadlines. I always wondered how it was that I never got onto writing papers at college until two days before the deadline. The one time I prepared a paper well in advance was when I used a word processor for the first time, a mainframe IBM computer in 1978 no less. The jerkaround was that I "forgot" to take it in the day of the deadline and got hit for 10% off as a "consequence". Little did I know this was some kind of mind invasive abuse that stemmed from their insane and abusive practices. And too, the mainframe systems personnel looked down on those who used a computer for word processing as it was deemed frivolous then. Interestingly though, they had a special command to attach to the printing job header that requested operator intervention to use a high bond quality paper, like for a formal presentation.

And lo, if this entire training funding initiative, some $8k worth of Oracle courses hasn't taken a reverse turn in the past hour. My shrink talked to the case manager and is now, (never before in over a year) "concerned" about my stress levels. So........, what does he do; he increases my stress level by invoking an obstructive (IMHO) "concern" that has never been mentioned by him, and he has no evidence that I am aware of that he is referencing. Another WTF moment; another intelligent individual playing dumb; been there, and done that, and didn't need any more of it as it is stressing!

So..., a year's worth of preparation and run-up over queing up Oracle course funding is now sitting in balance, and I will proceed to submit the application without my case manager's recommendation it seems. The case manager and I meet again next Thursday (missing yoga again), and we shall see what this disruptive wrinkle brings. That the case manager sprung the pivotal doctor's recommendation requirement on me only two weeks ago is suspicious, as it should of been done many months ago, to save all this intense activity/build-up related to application submission. Another "raise the angst" (stress the victim) FUD game it would seem. (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt). No wonder three of my confreres from the working world are with IBM. Hmm..., more conspiratorial thoughts.

An inspired little descriptive blurb uttered forth while I was writing the Oracle course funding application; one of those "damn the torpedoes" moments that surely must be manufactured elsewhere to sabotage my front of decorum and reservedness.

The question was; How does this disability having a permanent physical or mental impairment that restricts your ability to perform daily activities?

The mind-fuck answer was: "Constant adversity doing normal things; snagging, slipping and sticking of clothing, papers, fingers, etc., as if extra-conventional gravitic abuse was applied by remote means in real-time and by way of total and abidding surveillance. A huge increase in forced typos, (the handwritten document was augmented with such at this point), in excess of normal since this disability began, and still continues 7.5 years later. Also, being jabbed, pinched, struck, and hit by objects that were, at best, proximate and were not causal as no actual contact was observed."

Now this has been going on since the harassment started 04-15-2002, and is nothing new to my employment case manager with whom I began this bureaucratic dance with about a year ago. But now, it has become an instant (JIT supplied by the mind-fuck state) excuse to manufacture assent (thanks to Noam C.) with the doctor who has also gone wacko at the crucial moment, invoking a new sandbagging concern as identified above. Over one year later of the same story recounted in differing facets in his office, and not one lick of research on his part, and he now becomes concerned about stress. Dude, where have you been; constant stress has been going on since the above date of the apartment invasion and the barrage of abuse that opened up the covert life sabotage for me to know about. In about 2004 they seemed to be able to subvert my own stress reactions, and I suspect the entire stress "response" is now totally governed and managed by the SS (Surrepticious Sickos). That would include a recent healthy blood pressure test by the GP doctor, mentioned in these blog pages about a month ago, as the numbers got fucked out of mind, as normally I don't forget that stuff.

Funny how one jerkaround plays into another over this training fund application process;
  1. I get slowly lured into federal job training funding availibilty in fall 2008, and into Feb. 2009, with no caveats or critical requirements mentioned, but the seed is planted along with local public database courses of the kind that I formerly worked with,
  2. I even get a vocational assessment done that alsofeatures a supposed professional who also refuses to do any research about the clinical viability of the disability story, but the results are positive for matching abilities to proposed course work,
  3. then without explanation I get sent to the provincial agency, who, after two meeting postponements of three weeks, dropped me because the health case worker went wacko, and they didn't want to find anything contrary along the lines of research and contacts I suggested,
  4. then send me back to their federal government counterpart who drops the doctor's recommendation letter requirement bombshell (but a legitimate request) with too short of a time frame (as mentioned above),
  5. then the doctor goes and invokes a new concern off the wall that is old news (per above),
  6. then the employment case manager suddenly gets all ancy/concerned about "my" statement in the application above, surely a mind-fuck as I am not normally so declarative about this bullshit in written form to those in officialdom whom I don't know, and the employment case manager knew all about anyway,
  7. and now the entire year lead-up planning and application process has been rendered moot,
  8. and I am still writing it up for submission without the employment case manager's recommendation, and so it goes.
And with a week's time left, I should be good for another round of stress escalation before the entire effort gets shipped to Service Canada, already one week late, the local approvers of all things federal and fiscal. And lo, if the employment case manager didn't come up with a submission date of late next week, opening up an excuse for rejection, missing the four in advance deadline by a week. (Proactive sabotage perhaps?). Somehow, instead of my traditional "fuck him" approach to last minute sandbagger, I suggested a three way conference call with the doctor next week, employment case manager included. This concilliatory notion is entirely new, so again, I wonder how such inspiration arrived?

And then I send off the application Sept. 11, a harbinger perhaps, and then go on a week's excursion, taking my mother for a driving holiday (hers, not mine), all the while playing into the stress thing, wondering what is happening to it all. So is this all a big game of dashed expectations, aka suck-and-fuck that has been played out for so often, or is it the real deal? Or is it a sequel to going through this again for the latter two Oracle courses in 2010, sometime in December? I am betting on the latter; there is nothing the perps like more is iterative rounds of the same fruitless exercise, the more time between them the better, or perhaps, changing only one player between iterations. Stay tuned, as I don't know what is going down this Fall. Granted, the tip off was that this was looking too easy, fill out the application and everyone agrees, and some kind of FUDS (Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt and Sabotage) was surely planned from the get-go.

Which does make me ponder; since I spent nine years with the Ministry of Forests directing and supervising database development and shepherding the same project three times through the many shoals of outlandish bureaucracy, but finally persevering only to have the boss man put it on ice so he could "make it simpler", I wonder what is in the SS agenda on the Oracle database front? There were some more hints from the employment case manager today about "self employment", so it would seem that this might be the next phase of permitted vocational activity. But what does all this database development, past and future portent, have to do with the long term perp agenda? As a footnote for the upside; I learned a few days ago that the said Ministry of Forests database development is operational and is in good hands with one of my technically minded staff that I had. Neither was expected or known until now, along with a sudden spate of floor/ceiling pounding from above as I write this.

Time to wrap all of this up for today, even if I am not getting into the latest LD store gangstalking games that use daddy and his three year-old at 2030h (kid should be in bed), and a set up for me to pass between the fuckers while said kid waves a plastic display hook set around my feet. Said daddy of the ongoing Red Shirt Brigade even looked totally stupid when I drilled him with my gaze that surely read extra disdain for using live kiddie props while gangstalking, especially for the "split familial" version of the "split couple" gangstalk stakeout. Regular readers will know that the gangstalker couples are often arranged to split apart at my arrival for me to pass between them, as there is no other through passage.

Other action was the seeming assistant manager of the apartment building who accompanied the manager during this afternoon's toilet fixing while I happened to be eating chocolate with my tea, who happened to be out in the same clothing when I was on my way to the LD store. (Think of the brown color connection there, a recurrent color theme of significant proportions in the perp world).

Onto to checkered glory for tommorrow's farm duty, hoping that no more individuals go wacko on me. These sudden behavior changes seem to be more prevalent of late, and there is nothing I have said or done to cause them. One of the regular farm staff pulled this late last week and earlier this week, and with the above clinical quislings also turning wacko, I think it is time this bullshit act ended for all time. I have an ex who also pulled this sudden behavior change for ten years, a personable individual who suddenly went wacko and extremely tense over no explicable cause. I suspect in her case the "happy mind-fuck juice" was turned off over three months or so, and she wasn't ever going to explain why. Like I say, stress is the preferred state for a TI, and not by their choice.