New Tea, New Hassle

1555h
A run out to get green tea to the local supermarket, also a "forget" item last night. The gangstalker/wierds/freakshow was duly in place for even such a 10 minute round trip exercise, and I had mine in place first in the lobby with the standard negro male leaning his ass on the couch arm (his usual pose when deployed), and then on the street, shiftless males leading me inside, and then for the Big Brown Moment as it must be for them. This was when I grasped four bars of the new milk chocolate they have brought in, $1.49/100g (haven't tried it yet, it may not be that good), and as I did so, my attention was rudely hijacked to witness the Not-so Secret Asian Woman (think of the Secret Agent Man song/theme music) in a chocolate brown quilted jacket do her 180 degree spin some 10' away at the hot chicken counter, back facing me. The redcoats then moved in or were in place for my next stop to get olive tapenade, and when headed for the tea, why there was the Not-so Secret Asian Woman doing another 180 degree spin some 15' in front of me, again at the hot chicken counter, but 90 degrees offset. I passed through her spin spot on my way to checking out the tea, green tea as it is now, as that has been the favorite for a few years. The T. tea in the 4" tall canister with stacked round shaped teabags seemed to be the better deal, and so that is what I selected, a first time purchase of this brand.

More intervening gangstalker nonsense before I got back to my place, including at least the third obstruct-the-store-exit gag this week, this time the Grannies In Black and each pretending the other isn't there so individually they can keep their story as to not being collaborative. My passing swarm was also in place as I exited onto the sidewalk, now in the form of the shiftless males, a flush of Fuckwits in loafing mode. Then I get this quasi-challenge from another Caucasian Fuckwit with a darkened face and a blonde woman sidekick who "happened" to be associated with him, and he unlocking the front door about the same time as I was unlocking it from the adjacent intercom panel. In jest he says, "I can open the door faster than you can", but holding the door open and allowing me to pass ahead of him into the lobby (and after the blonde woman). I aceded with some comment like "can you now?", and both elevators opened up and I took one and they took the other. Saved from trite commentary by the elevator, what next?

Then onto tea time, and lo, if the kettle didn't somehow trip on the burner and dump a cupful of hot water on the stovetop, pissing me off. Only as a warm-up to opening the T. tea cannister for the first time, as the seal tab pulled off by itself, leaving the seal in place, and then the assholes had the seal collapse when applying the knife in an upward cutting position, and so only the downward cutting position "worked", or at least, until dumping the metal seal fragments into the cannister. Anyhow, more expletives and rage-ification came out of that exercise, especially when they had me re-apply the blue plastic lid the wrong way around. All this insane impositional fuckery over the minutae opening a new brand of tea, likely something they planned to do for months. I say that, as the orientation of the teabags and the nature of the packaging (first time in recent memory having a cannister for tea) as well as its color is such a big deal for the assholes, especially over teabags. No doubt the incremental drawdown of teabags, stacked horizontally between the blue plastic lid and the tin base of the cannister will be of intense gangstalker scrutiny over the next while. I have determined that food and beverages and/or its packaging color, begets a two to five hour delayed response in having gangstalkers present the same colors and materials in my proximity. Just in time for taking the bus tonight to my evening class.

On Monday (this is Friday as I write this), I had my blue plastic bearing gangstalker at the bus stop do the obligatory partial encirclement with a 2.5' square white furnace filter inside a two tone blue plastic bag. This was outside a Home Depot store, but like, who in the fuck goes to get a house item (not an apartment or condo item), on the bus for crissakes? And no less, checks out the bus schedule after sitting at the bus stop, all to stand and pose 2' from me to be viewed through the tempered glass? Anyhow, the blue plastic games continue, because the local refuse recycling is the "Blue Box Program", and that sets up the once per week plastic blue bins for paper, glass, cardboard and various plastics at the curbside. As regular readers will know, blue is one of the few Favored colors, and it seems to be an entre into whatever Unfavored elements, including Fuckwits (shiftless males, negroes, redheads, other fuglies, see the Favored and Unfavored posting at the right), the perps want to present me with, say, Unfavored Fuckwits wearing blue.

On the material objects (in the conventional sense), other Unfavored elements the perps are heavily presenting of late are blacked-in (tinted window) vehicles, blacked-in automobile wheels, police vehicles (often unmarked with black wheels), and the combination of blacked-in wheels, tinted windows GMC Surburbans or like SUV's with like height. The perps tell me that the relative size of the traumatization associated objects and personnel at the time of the trauma infliction is very important, and hence their ongoing (and notionally validating) machinations as to incessantly presenting vehicles in various scales from the (dumb) Smart Cars to the jacked up pickups (as one example). As for me, I don't give a shit, just leave me alone, traumatizations there or not, I didn't know I had them until this insane and persecutorial 7.5 year (and counting) orchestration of abuse and other depredations began in 2002. Most of the putative traumatizations would of being during the memory-wipe years of ages 2 to 5 y.o., 1956 to 1959, though there are a few odd blanks in Grades 1 & 2 with no recall as to how some 16 and 17 absent days were spent, as I don't recall how this would of happened, and when I asked my mother (report card in hand), she blew me off.

Other material objects that are getting greater gangstalking presentation play are white colored clothes, even in the dead of a wet winter. I find the white sloppy pants on males, especially when viewed from the back, to be somehow bothersome, or triggering in the parlance of those who have deeper scars, possibly because of similar traumatizations but without conscious memory being wiped. I haven't yet determined if I was fortunate to have my recall wiped (if that is indeed the case) of conscious traumatizations or not. It seems that both streams of this childhood abuse programs are getting the extra-conventional gravitic fuckery and gangstalking orchestrations, so neither buys an escape from the sickos. It is the subconscious recall that the perps seem to be replicating and eliciting in their parade of Freaks and Fuckwits here in FUD World, though I am also sure there is much more to it than that. As in the cheesy James Bond film title, "The World is Not Enough".

Back to the MIW and WIW; Men and Women In White; this appears to be designed to emulate the clinical garb of the 1950's and 1960's, as exposed when they put on a white dressed nurse of that era as a gangstalker, replete with the funny white partial hats that the nurses had. So it seems that they are at least engaging in partial whites; pants or jackets, and the latter being placed under my nose while standing on the busy bus on Monday afternoon; young, female and brunette, surely an entre for the thuggy/luggy dudes that later settled in around me later on that particular bus trip. The skinhead (a highly Unfavored demographic group) with a thick rippled neck who replaced the white coated blonde in the seat immediately in front of me was the piece de resistance. I will remember to bring my ball cap to cut out those frightful sights like that for next time, and hope that I am allowed to remember to wear it in those circumstances.

Onto evening Oracle PL/SQL class and dance on the margins of cognitive comprehension yet again, the FUD zone the sickos like to keep me in best of all. I am routinely noisestalked in class, and for years previously when I either come to an understand-something-moment, or the reverse, lapse into the "I don't get it" state. Never was comprehension studied so relentlessly, and it still is.

2315h
My complaints of being cognitively clobbered in the last evening Oracle PL/SQL class fell upon fertile ears, as I was much more engaged in understanding NOCOPY, and PARALLEL HINTs and the like.

I had my city bus freakshow in both directions, the highlights were the young woman in a fedora fussing with her outfit for the entire trip, exposing some way fugly tattoos and vile lower lip ring. A dude was placed in a seat between us, and she make sure that I saw the aforementioned Unfavored features. As if there wasn't enough red vehicles collected around the bus at any given time, on steps a white hatted male fuckwit with a red jacket and white pants, adding to the clinical garb emulation games they like to play, though the red jacket was a curious juxtaposition, but in keeping with the plethora of vehicles that I see backing up, red and white lights ablaze. And also in keeping with the many Coca Cola trucks in their white and red livery that park in my proximity. I haven't figured out why these two colors are so widely used in combination by the perps, but it would seem that the white light, techically a combination of all colors of light, is a reference color for red, a seeming problematic color for the perps as it is the color of one's blood, another jerkaround scene after shaving for the past two days, regardless of razor blade condition.

In the morning my mother came into downtown and with my assistance acquired a Tivoli table top radio, finally ready to join the rest of the world (here at least) in utilizing the cable service's FM radio station delivery, something that has been availible for some 40 years (or more) here. I had scouted out this particular radio back in 2004, but relented when I couldn't get it on sale at the time. And so it might be full circle that the perps have my mother buy one instead, now five years later. Don't ask me the significance of this, but it does demonstrate how long term they will plan the most trivial of events if you submit to the proposition that there are no flukes or coincidences in my life and that it is orchestrated to the most fleeting of thoughts and all sundry minutae on up.

For being downtown at this time of year at 1030h with my First Feral quisling mother who cast me in this shithole from the start, the gangstalker scene was decidedly muted. As usual, the freaking fire department put on their sirens and yellow trucks speeding by, the de rigeur noise/color event, and had their yellow pickup pre-positioned on the street, parked while the firetruck was on its putative emergency, and it remained there for our return trip which ended up at the Chapters books for some "down brown" time, drinking coffee at the Starbucks inside the bookstore. I got a cookbook for my daughter as an intended Christmas present, and had a cashier that was positively gushy. I wasn't allowed to figure out if she was the same cashier at another Starbucks that was positively chilly two weeks ago, as I never, ever forgot a face until the perps learned how to fuck me out of this type of recall in 2006. By the time all this took, I was snookered out of going to yoga, and ended up doing some in-town driving to get my mother to a function at a hotel, and doing some inspired parking that had the vehicle parked alongside a white wall, with a Fuckwit sitting in his black parked vehicle on the drivers (other) side. I suppose it was extremely significant that the book (a gift I purchased) and the radio (an item my mother purchased with prior history noted above) both remained in the vehicle and would of then been later transported to my mother's place after being stuffed under some brown colored carpet in the parking lot. I don't get to slather over the cookbook before I wrap it, and it doesn't take on any of the energetics signature of me and this apartment in the interim before she recieves it. Given the intense fuckery over past gift giving, and my two supposed girlfriends in Seattle both giving gifts back for no seeming reason (2002), and my daughter most often not reading or using the gifts I give her, including my vehicle, the perps must have some continuing big plan over just how these gifts are acquired, how long in advance, where they are kept before reciept, what color of paper they are wrapped in and for how long and all the other related minutiae that fascinates them to tears. Never mind the content of the book or what color the pictures in it are, always of prime concern to the Fuckwits.

Enough trivializing, aka functional decomposition, for one day and time to post this.