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.


Anonymous said...

A common tactic seems to have the harassors in cars provoking me, and having the driver stop a long distance down the street, but not too long, "waiting" for me to catch up some, and then drive off. The harassors will continue to turn around, "patrolling" various streets, just so they could pass me and provoke me again, with me running after them, cursing them. There must be a reason why they stop such a distance down the street... in each instance, it's like 50 feet or so, as if there is some remote monitoring of my reaction. Again, I hear females laughing at every corner. Then at a gas station, I had some really weirdo, worn-out guys coughing and just making an aweful racket hacking like crazy, saying stuff like "ew!" as I was walking past. For some reason, they like to have gangstalkers saying stuff like "ew" as I walk near them, and sometimes insulting stuff like "fat chick" and "ick". When I hear the "ew" and "ick", it's usually accompanied by some "conversation" involving a "child molestor", like they're trying to convey to me that's what I am.

Anonymous said...

I suppose all the "molestor" insinuations with all the creepy gangstalking weirds is a tactic used to break my psyche mentally. It's amazing how many pathetic followers there are in the world; so freaking conformist, doing what they are told, believing lies. I'm not sure if there is a smear campaign going on, but I do know a lot just go along with it because they get some money or favors out of it.

Anonymous said...

I've also noticed that perps and gangstalkers keep each other in line with similar harassment. But the main focus is always on the TI. There does seem to be differing factions "competing" against the TI at all times, although the harassment is generally similar everywhere.

As far as the mind-reading via remote sensing and the burns and stings and spasm, I suppose those perps are the ones affiliated with the military somehow. I'm not sure how that works, but the military always has the top secret weapons, and they would be involved in non-consensual experimentation. I'm sure there is a control room where those personnel can monitor us and display/store our thoughts. It seems to be a connected web with corruption involved, though it seems to be primarily about experimentation with some targets. The gangstalkers seem to know a whole lot about me, including my thoughts. Maybe it's done via thought transfer from TI to a bunch of gangstalkers. One person involved told me this is how it's done. His exact words were: "Yeah they read your mind via remote sensing, and just beam your thoughts right to 'em." That could be your typical disinfo bullshit we all get, though a lot of TI's seem to agree that's what goes on.