Monday, March 22, 2010

Monday First Feral Family Events

Back to online schlepping when I have things to do, like studying Oracle material to write the exams next month. This is one long running jerkaround; taking the courses, wanting to study, but somehow it "just doesn't happen", per mind fuck games IMHO. In all my college years, and in all other situations of writing exams. e.g. professional forestry, I have never faced such a continuing malaise of getting on with studying.

Back at my place after cooking lunch, a screaming rage show over a new roll of Cling Wrap a lunchtime today. The assholes had punctured the Cling Wrap to make the start tab unusable, and then mashed the end of it to make it unlocatable on the outside of the roll. Then they ragged me some more with faked touches and Cling Wrap pieces that wouldn't leave my hand when over the garbage. I haven't had one of these for at least four years, so back to the bad old days of high rage gratuitious abuse. This time with no neighbor complaints or the simulation thereof.

This followed a Monday morning at the First Feral Family home, then to the computer shop with the hard drive to replace the one in my mother's PC, then to her accountant to drop off papers, then to downtown for her to look for shorts, then coffee and then more shorts looking, and then back to my place to drop myself off, and she continuing homebound. And plenty of the shiftless males wandering around with their coffee cups held out in front of them, the Coffee Corps as I call them. Presumably there was some perp arrangement for me to be drinking coffee and seeing the Fuckwits on the street carrying their coffee simultaneously. I notice that a coffee wholesaler has set up shop within this city block, so I expect the coffee connection, read perp brown color research, will be continuing for at least another year.

It was communal TV watching last night, just my mother and I, and she wanted to see the Para Winter Olympics closing ceremonies, as it is a big deal being almost local. Not that she followed it much, but as it was rife with wheelchairs, I was scripted to see it. I spent most of the time looking at the curtains and listening, as there is nothing I loathe more (of late especially) of all the clinical materiel, that fucking wheelchairs. The perps even seem to arrange for me to see plenty of bicycle wheels as a surrogate. This must relate to the "lost years" of 1956 to 59 when they wiped most of my recall, as I have no conscious memories as to why I would loathe wheelchairs or any other known traumatization associations. Besides, this "loathing" seems to be a planted "reaction" as I didn't particular care either way as to seeing a wheelchair or not until then, and since the perps went overt-beserk in 2002, they made sure I noticed and reacted to a significantly greater degree than I ever did. Another thanks for nothing from the Assholes of the Fourth Reich.

And they were out in abundance today, the downtown perambulating with my mother, a total fuckover scene for them, as they can get me to walk slower, and have her do ditzy things like step in others' way, like a real perp/shill. And I suppose her quest for shorts might be an exposition of this subject, as the perps like putting on gangstalkers wearing shorts, sometimes on rainy winter days. I have never seen so many Fuckwits wearing shorts since they went over-beserk. And too, not a much as aforementioned wheelchairs, they like me to "react" negatively to short wearing Fuckwits, especially in the more absurd scenarios like I mentioned.

A rich set of TI links here at Are You Targeted?; some I don't know of and will explore today, though I believe I have corresponded with Jeremy, the author.

An ongoing train of loud mufflered vehicles with the noise somehow getting through the hearing protective earmuffs. Like I have said, the noise-scape is highly governed in my experience, and that includes planting human noises around individuals who did not actually make them.

The perps have me interested in soil science today, specifically terra preta or biochar soil treatment for improved yields. Not exactly anything I can do about while living in an apartment, but as they had me digging and sieving soil for some 10 hours last week, they want to continue the coverage of this very significant topic (to them). And my mother has some more soil digging jobs she says, after doing some 20 hours worth on one bed at her house. She doesn't seem too moved to make sure it doesn't revert to weeds so far, but it isn't uncommon for any of my assigned dig-overs to be left to fallow for some months.

What is the deal with campers abounding in the streets these days? It is way too early in this neck of the woods for camping season and yet campers have been given extra vehicular gangstalking attention. In the fraught abusive days of 2002, they would often place extra campers around the house of Ms. C of the story whenever I would stay there. I envisioned these as control rooms for applying the fuckery and pain at the time, though it could of been more mundane and fitting the same objective as having these mobile kitchens and sleeping quarters arranged around town, ostensibly for movie crews, except that there isn't a movie shoot that can be found. I suspect the perps' own operatives do sleep overs of locations for specific reasons, ones usually on my regular beats, all to see if they can detect some kind of similar energetic interactions between their cooperative operatives and yours truly who may have slept in the vicinity, or who frequently passes by.

A fascinating read for 50 minutes or so, The Secrets of the Lost Races; New Discoveries of Advanced Technology in Ancient Civilizations, by Rene Noorbergen. It is fodder for the once freaked out TI who has come round to a new world view, albeit incomplete until the perps finally tip their hand, but don't plan on that. One interesting vignette in the story is about Dr. Gooch, an explorer who was a Mason, and who  indicated to his non-Masonic colleague that the Masons had posession of Amoela's diary, said to be the most complete record of ancient human history. Dr. Gooch died shortly thereafter. So where have we heard this story before, "chance" expiration soon after, or before, important revelations or in advance of significant technological direction change, e.g. Rudolph Diesel's demise. Karen Silkwood anybody?, But from what I digest, the wretched excesses of the war in Iraq and the associated larceny isn't getting reported as the divulgee-to-be gets knocked off, in suicide or combat. Prison Planet indeed, even as the wardens think they are exempt.

Some new links added to the Consolidated Link List to the right, from tonight's perusing. Saving you the jump and wading through that very long list I need to do something about;

Mother Earth Journal Terri Hansen, a native Indian journalist, gets gangstalked. No race is exempt.
The Cetorian A new blog (03-2010), but an experienced TI who isn't afraid to address the bigger picture.

And no seeming ability to change the blog body width, so it is proportionate to the size of one's monitor, and I am stuck with the skinny column down the middle in this here Blogspot. I can see from the examples I am getting the detuned and defeatured Blogspot presentation, but this is getting silly when I cannot change the blog text width for those of us with 22" displays.

More blog maintenance activity, putting the Consolidated Link List into a Blogspot "edit" page, about the dumbest name they could of come up with; "static pages" maybe. And this was forced because I wasn't allowed to find this page on a search, so another "regular page" gets moved to its new billing. Thankfully no major select/copy/paste losses or jerkarounds in the process.

I am going to post this now, as I really don't have much going on to detail, or else I am getting blocked.

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