Post First Feral Family Monday

1650h
Back after a stayover at the First Feral Family home, and sorting through maps and other long cached troves of my fathers', now in a care home. Some go back many decades, and many of them are grouped inside plastic bags, and regular readers will know how beserk the sickos go when there are plastics to be manipulated by me or by others in my proximity. Especially old plastics, and that is why the assholes populate my outside garden maintenance activities with so much plastic garbage. They cannot get enough of me touching or otherwise engaging with all manner of plastics, especially if they once stored food.

And the ex-wife came to visit for dinner last night, necessitating a table dinner instead of being bathed in the glow of the CRT TV's magnetic field (TV dinner), not to mention its changing colors and content. Our daughter is away skiing this weekend, and that was the reason she couldn't come as well. I suppose the visitation might be a partial replication of when they came for Christmas dinner, though I am never sure of the motivations, besides the usual gangstalking arrangements of managing to walk over an areas that I had just departed from. Which is what the gangstalkers do all over town, crossing my path before and after me, arranging me in mid-swarm, and otherwise tailing me and often doubling back. Each freak gets his due in the ambulatory Fuckwit games of attempting to get close, but not in my face (usually).

The big deal of the dinnertime conversation was re-telling the wine country visitation trip of last 09-2009, when I visted the Similkameen Valley (Keremeous and Cawston) with my mother. And we "happened" to be drinking wine with dinner that was from the vineyard attached to the guest house where we stayed. And as it "happened", my mother found the tourist brochure that very location that we used. It is truly amazing the numbers of things that go missing at her place, but suddenly the very item just happens to be found if germane to the ongoing script. I suppose this was all about the sicko's interest in provenance (where things are from), be it wine, or re-telling of the visitation, or other references that were supplied from the tourist literature. Plus my mother went on about the Indians for whatever reason, even if we didn't meet any or have any other contact. I don't know why somethings get mentioned at excessive length, but one can assume in this 100% scripted and highly monitored existence that the sickos have their reasons, and are willing to wait years before introducing the next installment.

One the regular Sunday First Feral Family dinner menu items is beef. I don't normally eat any all week, and the perps screwed me out of eating much of it since 1978, which all told, might not have been such a bad deal. I suppose the ex was inserted as some kind of reference to eat the same meal, and that it had to there with me present. When one thinks about it, the perps must be testing all kinds of combinations and permutations of diet and individuals whom I know, but not with me there, and I am oblivious to what might be a considerable effort in their ongoing research agenda. I might only be a small part of it even, given that variables such as water supply, food source, food color, cooking oil type and so many others are part of this entire insane scheme of theirs.


2150h
I am researching hazelnut entree recipies tonight. I have five pounds of hazelnuts in the shells acquired  from the above visit to Cawston 09-2009, which replicated the visitation and aquiring them there in 09-2008 (same farm). Don't ask me why hazelnuts figure in all of this, but it seems that it is a big deal, and instead of eating them raw like summer of 2009, they want me to eat them in a prepared entree dish. I haven't been allowed to be so creative in making an entree in over seven years, as I have been eating my chicken tortillas with variations all this time, with some salad variants until that was cut off in 2005. Naturally, the number of recipies for a hazelnut entree are limited, as it is uncommon, and it looks that I might concoct a combination from various lasagne fillings, vegetarian dishes and stuffings to come up with a recipie that fits my limited cooking utensils.

The short story of my cooking experience, going back decades to the college years, is that I nearly always never followed a recipie. It only was a loose list and the methods and order, and after that, I was always short of needed ingredients, or had something extra to add in. And given the perps' interest (telegraphed by incessant noisestalking), whenever I cut up meat or vegetables, there must of been an agenda in place at the time in creating more variations than I really wanted to entertain. Plus, they were very good at scrambling me when reading the recipie and having ingredients put in the wrong order and the rest of the permutations they thought were necessary for screwing me at the time. Little did I know I had some assholes over my shoulder, and even scripting it all likelihood. That was the 1970's when I was at my most creative in cooking, and once married, I slacked off for reasons I could never quite fathom. Now I know, as they like to separate the act of cooking from eating the products of cooking, which is still replicated in these overt harassment days in having me purchase my chicken cooked, and then slicing off portions for later meals. Hence, the much gangstalked Chicken Run shopping trips when I purchase a hot and cooked chicken, when they cannot get enough Fuckwits around me at the chicken counter when I make my selection and put it into my shopping basket.

2010h
Anyhow, other boring details are that the Saturday newspaper which I typically read in the afternoon, is getting more "fallow time", and for some reason I don't get onto reading it until the following Monday (today) or Tuesday. Not a big deal, but it is an interesting variation that has cropped up lately. And all the while, after goading me to put on my earmuffs for the obnoxious outside noises, then then crank up the noise in the earmuffs. I get all manner of creaking, squeaking, mouth noise, faked teeth clatter and others, not to mention the constant ringing of the earmuffs that they gradually increase when wearing them. The noises are timed to be when I read names of people or places, keywords related to finance (e.g. Ponzi scheme, profit, loss etc.) or other objects that fits their themes that I have detailed in the Pondering the Perp's Objectives postings, links at the right under Essential Introductory Postings.

This one is done for today, and I will post it to save any other dull details getting their due to the imposed interests of my mind-keepers.