Friday, April 30, 2010

Weekend Shift Change

That is, the shift change of the sickos, though pure speculation on my part. But they do have a slack time about 1400 to 1600h in the afternoon, and then they seem to come on hard later Friday and the rest of the weekend. Then they get back to the weekly grind on Monday.

After an afternoon of gardening, taking the city bus freakshow back from the First Feral Family home, then stopping in at LD to get chocolate and other items, and then getting back to this apartment, where it seems every floor is now swaddled in poly plastic sheet for catching paint spills. Then I had to cook dinner rather than eat leftovers, and lo, if they didn't rage-ify me some 30 times while making dinner, eating it and doing the dishes. And I am talking about extreme rage from extreme provocations; objects that move by themselves, getting mind-fucked out of following my usual efficient habits, getting sent to the wrong cupboard, getting fake touches applied to me "from objects" that are 5" away or more, geting extra noise created anytime I handle and object, (e.g., the clattering of picking something off a countertop will continue while the item is in mid-air, and not in contact with the counter top), and temporary vision disruptions (e.g. striated plasma beams, double vision and misted up vision). Needless to say, my "reactions" aren't my own, and after eight years of been witness and the subject of this insane abusive tyranny, I would ordinarily be used to it, and wouldn't be perturbed except by something new and threatening. But I am not allowed to be me, but am rendered into this screaming wreck state by relentless harassment, and then they back off for a while. When I go to the kitchen again to make tea, why, it starts up again.

An afternoon of gardening work at the First Feral Family home, replete with the SAC bombers overhead (at least two, or noise thereof), the escalated traffic noise (throbby trail motorcycles were playing big), and the ongoing wind with a pinging noise added into it of no ostensible cause. The next door neighbor did at least three loud and deep coughs, springing them at opportune moments, like shifting tasks, and there were the now usual lawnmowers and gasoline leaf blower noise with that characteristic whine.

In the morning, I sorted out family books for donation to the once per year gigantic used book event. These were my father's books, he now doing the senile act (it seems) and cannot read. The sickos do like me to handle books from many different sources, though they haven't let me go to a library since spring 2004. They don't let me read books very often now when I have all the time in the world to do so, as it seems to be yet another highly governed event. And it seems, they want their Fuckwits to be reading books in my proximity instead; I have never seen so many idiots reading while walking before. There are also the book readers at the bus stop who never look up but somehow don't miss the bus, as they would if they stayed stuck to their seat and didn't indicate they wanted to board the bus.

Yet again, starting on digging roots up begat an immediate escalation of the arranged noisescape.I dug over a patch of ground that was to be seeded to grass later. The adjacent patch was dug up some four months ago and re-raked since, and then raked again today. So it would seem that the Fuckwits want to compare the energetics of the grass seed and the entire growing duration on adjacent plots of ground, one where it has been dug over long in advance, and the other, dug only immediately before seeding. After the digging and raking, I begat another round of noise escalation when handling the grass seed and its included mulch and fertilizer components. This is the grass seed that can grown on concrete apparently. The perps have a big interest in all seeds and nuts, so grass seed isn't too different than say, macadamia nuts for consumption. Even back in 2007 my in-town brother has had me do grass seeding at his place, and it was a mickey mouse project, and at the time it made me wonder what it was all about as he doesn't give a rats' ass as to how his property looks for the most part. And on the last project at his place in March, rebuilding his wall that came down, he was going on and on about re-seeding the adjacent grass when he had no idea how much it was damaged as the protective tarps (blue colored) were on top of it. I worked late until 1800h or so just so I could get his grass seeded and end his obsessing, the small patch that wasn't protected. And still I wonder what it was all about, his going on about the grass seeding.

Like at my in-town brother's place, my mother arrives just as I had finished up doing the grass seeding today. I had raked it in, and was watering it by hand when she came back and propped herself in the window in the house. Strangely, when she arrived she didn't even come out back to see how the project was going, but instead, went to her window seat while I was outside watering. Most odd that the pair of them arranged the same arrival timing when I was working on grass seeding at their respective properties.

And onto the city bus freakshow; the same 1702 #28 bus, from the same interim stop as two days ago, as the fucking bus was 8 minutes early, and so I missed on its N. bound leg. The #27 runs counter cyclical to it, sharing the same tertiary artery in suburbia, and I got it S. bound to the interim bus stop to then catch the #28 bus after it had circled back to then travel S. to downtown. I am fucking pissed that this new salvo/jerkaround of buses now running 8 minutes early has started up. They were running up to 4 minutes early, so I began to arrive early, only to have the buses then run late, for the sickos to have me hang out at the bus stops for longer with their vehicular gangstalking parade out in force. So now what, back to essentially a timetable-less bus service, all because the fucking assholes haven't finished playing through all their fuck-the-victim-some-more variations? All over catching a fucking bus, an ongoing mobile human nonconsensual laboratory for the Fuckwits to play clothing colors and freaks inside the bus, and their vehicular gangstalking outside the bus. Not to mention the surge of jaywalkers that erupts at the major intersections, in front and beside the bus.

They had seven Asians ringed around me on the bus for most of its journey. And why is it I get the weirdest Asian of the bunch sitting next to me? Built like an overwieght 6' Caucasian, in a red hat and red shoes, already looking like a fucking clown with his red hatted pal, and lo, if he doesn't do two full view sidewalk spittings before getting to the bus stop. What is it that the street spitters seem to erupt around where I am in public? Then to top this one off, the next batch of Asians arrive opposite, one wearing one red shoe, and the other green, a presumed pair as the shoes were the same design and brand. And no negro on the bus for the run into downtown, save the penultimate stop where one scoots on board. I suppose they must of been Asian testing me, read, light brown skin tone, and wanted to test me momentarily for an deep black skinned Fuckwit. I would of thought they would of built the skin tone thing up, from Asians to E. Indians and then to negroes, but it seems they still like to hop around and jump big skin tone variations as part fo their relentless brown skin color fucking games. They had the blonde woman parked some 10' away the entire time, and she got to do a double shift of the ridiculouse bus schedule looking; first sitting down at the interim bus stop, then getting up to read the schedule, then siting down again (4' away), and then she repeats the routine a minute later. There is only two bus routes to select from, and they travel the identical route when S. bound to downtown.

Interesting that I caught this same #28 bus three days ago, S. bound at the same 1702h time, and it was half full today, but standing room only then. How is it that these bus passenger loads are varying so much? I know the answer to that of course, but it is odd to me that they aren't sticking with the pretense of it being similar. Mind you, in my salaried working days, my 2000 morning bus commutes from Everett to Seattle were also somewhat variable, and I could never figure it out as to why. And that is where I met Ms. C of the story, about the only single woman my age that was on the bus. Just another criminal operative I have come to know and conclude.

The sickos like to mess me around and have me ponder as to her earlier roles in morphover form; at work in the early 1990's, long before I moved to Everett and Seattle in 1999. I went to the Western Forest Mensurationist's meeting in Harrison Hot Springs, BC, and there was this one babe from the US, most notable in that she was about the only woman at the convention. Anyhow, I got to speak with her briefly, but it does make me wonder if it was Ms. C again, tasked with hounding my ass for much more longer than than I suspected at first.

Some bizarre dreams this morning before getting up; I was in charge of a cheetah or leopard, and beyond that, I cannot recall the context or details, but it all seemed so uncharacteristically vivid and rational. Stay tuned for big cat stories for the next two weeks or so.

A musical find; Alela Diane here and here. Forwarned; not for the metal rockers out there. From the White As Diamonds, "each cruel day was saved my nightfall". Hmm....

Enough putzing here in online land and time to post this one.

Yoga and All That

A yoga day today, always a big deal for my tormentors with the spinal twisting, leg openings, and stretches. I suspect that the nut shave last night using a black colored plastic razor insert might have been the real interest for the extended crotch stretches, aka "hip openers" today. One pose even had my nuts resting on one heel, so that must of been very interesting for them. They put the grotesque negro woman next to me today, a first, as they usually park her as far as away as possible. And a pre-class blonde visitation, doing the "lost item" look, but was about the most pathetic example I have seen of someone looking for something they lost in the room the day before. Ever seen a laid back vague and wandering search for a specific missing item? Not until today.

And they were busy preparing me for the day as well; a near sleepless night (it seemed) last night with the sickos playing this professional baseball player theme in mind, and it was also in place during a light REM sleep for at least two hours before I got up at 0730h. All the while, for all sleeplessness periods, they put on the "dude chat", a background noise of male voice, one or two, and not loud enough to make out the words. This particular background noise has been consistent for the past week and they also put it on for my tea and chocolate break this afternoon, and having me eat two 100g bars. Suffice to say, I am fed up with this mind-fuck "habit" of eating chocolate at all, never mind the $250/month "habit" it has become, all to further the perps' brown color research, the chocolate in one's mouth being less than an inch from ones' brain, the site of their remotely sensed nonconsensual human research. For those unfamiliar with this state of cognitive invasion,  they presently, routinely demotivate me, as well as make me zone out over initiating habitual activities, and another  prominent example is sending me to the wrong drawer or cupboard for a given item. And the cognitive containment and harassment gets worse from there, visual field disruption being highly disrupted of late.

I had my usual consort of gangstalkers going to and from yoga today, a 10 minute walk at best. No military personnel this time, but they got busy on street paving today, in place outside the apartment building entrance even, having dug up 4'x10' patches in mid street for no seeming reason, and were ready in wait for me. The asphalt delievery truck was sitting at the curb for me to pass by, and they had at least one new patch at the curb for me to hop over. This is the third such application to this same corner they re-worked about two years ago, having patched it twice but roughly in two lifts. Today, they decided to add a third covering patch to smooth it out. And the asphalt patching personnel were ready too. one lounging against the side of a vehicle, the others putzing about in dayglo colors. When I came back, they hadn't done a freaking thing, and the asphalt delivery truck was gone, with no other vehicles parked there. I couldn't believe it. All "dressed up" for doing a pointless asphalt patching job with half the street bounded off, and they are gone when I came back, having done nothing. I suppose they wanted me to pass by (within 10' to 20') of their tar covered patches in the road, new tar (petroleum product) over the old surface (a 3" deep grinding out of the extant surface) in both directions. The goofy 3' high yellow plastic warning bollards were also out for me to pass between, a "warning" for the window washers working at height above, though none observed. Regular readers will know that I am routinely hounded over petroleum products and all public space applied surfaces, asphalt and concrete, and the interface of the two. They just cannot get enough of selectively introducing me to these, in combination, and very often like to expose me to old surfaces (grinding, breaking up or digging down), and new tar and asphalt. They have done no end of like street works, sometimes needless as I have observed, for me to pass over a new section of concrete laid in an old sidewalk. And on my way to yoga I also got to walk over a mid-street ditching job covered in the 1" steel plate, another variant to these set ups related to the same objectives they have around these same applied surface materials.

And what is with the sudden eruption of Fuckwits walking straight at me in the past week? Another fucker today, and two three days ago, pretending not to notice me or otherwise responsibly behave in public so they are looking where they are walking. One had hair draped all over their forehead as it spilled forward from their hoodie, something like a sheep dog. Another insane shit was doing the same when I got of the bus. And another today, when headed to yoga, the Fuckit wandering over to the 4' stump they created two weeks ago, and then crossing in my path to pass on my left side. All the while pretending that he wasn't behaving like a total weird.

A concentrated round of door slamming noise and vibration from the hallway while I deal with a new upgraded to Open Office that removed from a sabotaged personal directory to a system directory. Another "feature" was that it installed inside of 20 seconds, though it took a few minutes last night. And while exercising my suspicions and testing it, the door slamming noises kept up. I cannot fathom what could be so interesting to a beserk human research outfit as the pedantic nature of removing and installing software, but the sickos are full measure for now some eight years of expressing relentless and consistent interest in the forms of noise, harassment to get me to vocalize, screen flashes of some strange image and other concurrent fuckery.

A visit to local supermarket, and they were all over me, starting with two dudes on brown boxstalking and skateboard stalking respectively, getting on the third floor and preceding me out the front door to the waiting throng of some eight Fuckwits arrayed in front of the lobby door. One asshole did the elevator rushing trick of attempting to get in while I was exiting; I hadn't experienced this until 2004, when an eruption of Fuckwits started this at elevators, and for the first time today, when exiting a doorway. The excitement for the insane assholes was likely that I went to get coffee beans, which are ground up at the in-store grinder, and keeping me captive at one location with the changing brown colors of the coffee for about three minutes. As always, an eruption of Fuckwits started around me, coursing back and forth and around, and they get faster as the captive duration progresses, striding out. Then when a break in the Fuckwits occured, why, a bag of the same coffee beans erupted by itself and dropped onto the floor for me to pick up, getting the sickos another chance at me handling a coffee bag again, this time in mid-coffee grind.

The hallways are still decked in poly plastic and the painting job is still going on, even if they did rip out the masking tape and brown paper and then proceed to paint beside the locations they needed masking. I did get to see real painters today and a real paint can, but the whole operation is now into its fourth week, and is about the most paint flecked (on the poly sheet catch fabric), commercial paint job I have ever seen, and yet these paint drops are never wet, always dry. And it is a light yellow color, both plaster walls and the brown steel door frames, the latter being odd, as it is a factory applied paint color. It isn't too much of a surprise to note that soft yellow dressed gangstalkers are on the increase, though they perps only let me realize this a few days ago, when if left to my own unfettered cognitive abilities, I would of figured this out from the get-go.

I had just come off a spell at this PC editing and changing the backup commands, after reviewing the backup log. I wasn't allowed to read the backup log file earlier today, suddenly getting dithered, but I was allowed to save the file and print it out tonight and then read it, and then mark it with the replacement pen. For some reason, changing pens is a big deal for the assholes, but they are all from the same box of 10 I buy, the same kind since 2004.

It seems to be more important to the perps as to which activity I do online or on the PC before going out to do shopping. File management operations is a big deal as well, per above backup program I edited, and last night when they roundly noisestalked me while evaluating software to do a much better job than the wretched Windows File Explorer does. Sometimes I wonder what in the fuck is going on when Microsoft makes such shitty file management software for 20 years, and even being so obdurate about capability being able to copy to CD's. It looks like File Boss and DOpus are the leading contenders for a decent file managing utility. And then next it will be a decent screen capture utility, then UltraEdit, and perhaps a few more trinkets on the software side. As for hardware, getting a USB3 and a SATA3 card and then a SATA3 SSD would be next. That precludes getting a job, which has yet to be attained, as I don't hear a thing when I have reasonable experience for landscaping and farm hand jobs. No doubt something has been long planned around plants and farming, as this would make the third year in succession they want me on this kind of work. As mentioned, the perps also have an abiding interest in me when I do gardening, and constantly place landscape and gardening vehicles in my proximity, often with a full load of cut foliage.

An earlier forced nap after yoga that went for 1.5 hours. Very strange that I take naps, even if the sleeplessness is real. The sickos have made me go three days without sleep, and to no daytime effect. This was back in their totally beserk days of 2002 when they would hound me all night long by head pains that were defeatable by driving around. And so I did, and with me were several hundred vehicles doing one time passes by me, from a cluster behind, to one in front, differing vehicle colors of course.

And now some dull time, as I have done the evening tea and chocolate thing, and am pondering how to spend the rest of the evening. Perhaps employment applications are in order, as a round of sudden demotivation came on and it was complemented with yet more spending aspirations for which I haven't the money on hand. Go figure, but know that these kind of basic incongruities never happened before the sickos went overt/beserk 04-15-2010.

A round of job applications with overhead pounding the odd time, plus outside traffic noise at key moments of select/copy/paste and when sending the email off. Also, some file deletions that erupted in Yahoo, incurring re-do effort to much chagrin. The last round of this didn't elicit one response, even with appropriate experience so no doubt I might be scooping the $22/hour union laborer job somehow. Though, I would get to work around traffic, and "sanitation issues" so who knows, it might be the ideal TI job given the perp's predilection over these topics.

Onto posting this one and then doing First Feral Family landscaping duties tomorrow.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Enragement Continuity

A rousing round of insane abuse last night, after the blog posting. I haven't had one of these since 2006 before they suddenly stopped, though with slow incremental buildup since, culminating in last night's rage-ification event that is repeating again this morning, partially over the same causes. They got me started around 2330h, when I began to look at the backups and found they were getting sabotaged; wrong source, wrong destination, wrong disk, and spewing data into operational directories. That was cause for getting rage-ified as this was all set up with due caution a week ago, and somehow I "forgot" to look at the backup logs. Or at least, the ones I did look at, were OK, but "failed" to notice that the other ones weren't. This follows the sabotage of Windows 7 backup utility, and I found something comparable, though clunky. And the Windows (file) Explorer is total garbage, especially the Windows 7 version with the directories leaping up and down the page on the left, not to mention the barely discernable graphics of which directory is selected, or at least, on this version of it, har, har.

Then at 0040h, in a highly unusual event, two craps in a night which never happened ever until they went overt/beserk in 04-2002, they had me take another crap, just when I thought that all had been purged at 2100h earlier. So... same deal; toilet backup, plunging, clean the plunger, and then a shower to clean up. But of course mere perfunctory abuse wasn't good enough, so they cranked me up over the fact that I haven't been able to take a shit for over eight years without a 99% chance of some fuckover stunt or combination of them, and broke the top off the Deep Clean when I put it down, wouldn't let me throw it in the garbage but missed by 1/2", dumped the dental floss on the toilet tank again (just "hangs" as if self sticking, dangling over the garbage can), and gratuitously wacked me in the dick when there was so ostensible cause such as the towel when drying myself, made extra noises to piss me off, flashed plasma light at me to piss me off, and generally wound me into a state of high rage. But that wasn't enough, because when in bed they kept me up for an hour with head flipping, outside vehicle noise, and dude talk that erupted for half an hour. They also kept jamming me with planted thoughts, having them skip from one theme to another every 20 seconds or so, totally unlike me and especially at that time of night, and kept at it for at least an hour.

They finally let me sleep, but not without rest, as a series of extra vivid dreams about software development came on, interposed with strange events about backcountry hiking and perilous trails and bridges, and finally got me up at 0600h. Then plenty of extra noise and fuckery to step up the rage-ification level within 5 seconds of getting up, and then kept up the rage-ifcation through breakfast. And lo, if they didn't revisit the backup sabotage as I now "discover" (read, pre-scripted event) that the Quicken install has been sabotaged along with extra backup files spawned all over the place, and I have no idea where I can back this up. This was accompanied by more rage-ification over what in the fuck was going on, and why they have fucked it when it was fully functional, and then they wouldn't let me solve the problem either, all to extend their insane obsession over fucking me doing backups. After years of being too casual about it, I am finally allowed to back the files up, and then this becomes a long running Fuckover scene, playing over 15 episodes and still counting. They won't even allow the Windows 7 backup utility to work, I get to use some clunky freeware that is functional. Does anyone out there know of a highly usable, robust and highly capable file manager software, even if one has to pay for it? Think Ultraedit completeness and quality and usability for file management; (It doesn't exist, as they had me look last night).

Other bullshit that got long running mind share, as in planted thoughts, was yesterday when my mother was talking about indeterminate future residence at a care home. Then she added something vague about me living at the house instead, keeping it in the family, and that I might want to "share it with somebody". Like WTF; who could possibly be this "somebody"? That became the platform for planting rabid thoughts for the rest of the four hours there as to who this somebody was, and that it was a she, and that she might start out as a room mate and graduate onto more matrimonial role. No, and no; I have the hounds of extreme hell on my ass 24x7, I have no job only a disability income (har, har), and am 55 (now), and I have no ambition to mate with anyone, and want to be left alone. As part of this fucking bullshit, there is a suggestion, again by planted thoughts, that this somebody will be substantially younger; no, and no again. And to grind my ass all the more, the local paper section led with a woman (about 35 or so, not a really young thing), pictured in a wedding gown and an article about wedding dress choice and ceremony particulars which I didn't read. But as there is so much bullshit going down over events that never come to pass, this too is very much circumspect. The sickos don't get it; no criminals in my life, and leave me alone so I can work a legit job and be appropriately compensated.

And to grind my ass all the more, the sports section of the paper, led with a half page picture of a Kenyan negro winner of the local 10km race two days ago. And of course, they fucked me into "forgetting" that these pictorial boobytraps (pardon the pun) were on the front of the sections to make sure I saw them each at least twice more. Picking up a newspaper these days is getting absurd, avoiding the Unfavored Freaks that seem to be arranged at every turn. Needless to day, web pages are more fraught, but at least I can Adblock them for the most part.

Back  from another fraught gardening and PC shop visitation at or from the First Feral Family home. It had to be one of the biggest gangstalking parades ever; constantly arranged and color coordinated vehicles, and enough stupid action to beget a near constant commentary to myself in the vehicle. That goes way back; having me alone in the vehicle so I will talk more outloud, especially over the absurdities and insane arrangements. At one intersection they had nine white (one a double decker bus) or silver-grey vehicles in file in the lane next to me, and at least four more of that same two color (single greyscale) theme. And they even put on a tractor trailer flatbed of brown cardboard boxes in mid platform, hauling it nice and slow when outbound, and lo, if it wasn't pulled over at a road works delay on my way back. (Same route, but no road works when I was outbound, which shows that these "road works" with white vans, manhole covers pulled, Fuckwits and flag persons standing around, can erupt within 20 minutes or less, my return time at that location).

This was arranged for me when I took my mother's vehicle to the PC repair shop to retrieve it due to a SATA cable problem, apparently. Only a $70 tab for that exercise for crissakes, though it did include extensive hard drive testing time. And lo, if the white trades van wasn't in place in the parking lot, and then when I got in, two trades dudes in white were putzing around, one 10' up a ladder. Another fucker was at the desk for the whole time I was there, and I when I got out, one of the inside trades dudes just "happened" to be coming toward me. I can never get over how they must have the same gangstalker keep hounding me in all places of the building, front and back, inside and outside, under shelter and in shade and in sun; the temporal, lighting and locational juxtapositions are limitless, and yet they still keep at it. Whatever the "it" is, but it must be a huge prize, and eight years of this fucking insane abuse amounts to fuck all when they keep coming on 24x7.

This might be the first in-town trip in a vehicle since I gave my vehicle away to my daughter where I had two Fuckwits backing up in front of me, one in each direction. First was a light yellow VW Westphalia camper van, a favorite of the gangstalkers, backing up in mid-street making an egregious move to hold traffic up while he backed out of his driveway and across to the opposite lane even. Then one block further ahead, a white VW Westphalia van of the same kind pulls out to make a right turn to then have both Westphalias arranged side by side at the intersection ahead of me, one going left, the other straight, and me turning right. And, both had identical black roof pods on top. Never has camping season erupted so early in the year in this clown town.

More beam flashing tonight, all to accompany me finishing my review of file management utilities and logging off. Then off to the crapper again, but without the rage-ification Fuckover games of yesterday, and no plunging but a shower to clean up.

Other bullshit today that was played into mind at some length, though not quite as bad as yesterday, was this scenario of me moving into the vacated First Feral Family home, and getting a house mate that becomes a wife, per above And lo, if today's newspaper didn't have a half page on a specialized house sharing evaluation specialist to work out condo and house sharing agreements. I didn't read it, but it would be another artful piece of placement in the newspapers, yesterday's was a bridal article. The answer remains the same; no to moving to the FFF home, no any house mates, no to any criminal associations with shills, operatives or their ilk, and no to any matrimonial considerations. All I need is to be left alone, have a job, and be free from any fucking abuse, harassment or surveillance.

But they did play the angle in my mind as to what I would to improve the property if I moved there; get a dumpster and fill it up with all the things that are stored and never used, get the perimeter drains upgraded, (they even had me check out the feasibility so not to break up any concrete), get underground electrical and data services in and update the electrical panel, grade the backyard to one level, get the dumbshit 8' garage door converted to 10', and start to replace some of the ridiculous forest trees that are kept in hedge form. All that was playing as the SAC bombers passed over (or noise thereof, at least three), adjacent property lawnmowers were started up, and other noise was introduced. And after lunch when starting on some limited digging, the chuff noise of the purported cause, the recycle pickup service was initiated along with intermittent sirens. It sounded as if it was a distant sneezing sound more like, and they know I cannot stand loud sneeze noises. Which they tell me began in the womb, these predilections of noise adversity. So, what; just get the fuck out.

Other exciting action was getting back on the bus; they screwed me or my watch so I missed the intended bus by two minutes, seen from the hill I was descending, and the option is to wait on the other side of the road and get the counter cyclical bus, and lo, if I didn't miss it, coming one minute later. Off came a black dressed Fuckwit with two 5' high flattened cardboard boxes under his arm that faced me; like WTF, carry them in hand instead of tucking them under one's arm. And who in their right mind packs flattened boxes on the freaking bus? He is the second such curiousity in the last month, but I haven't seen it ever before in this town or any other. Bad enough when they have their kids with a brown box in their lap with some kind of Christmas presentation.

Then while expecting to wait at the bus stop longer for the passing surges of gangstalking vehicles (per usual set up when the buses are missed), especially the landscaping services with full trailers or boxes of leaves and lawn cuttings, another bus comes in, from a new and different route, and he would take me to the arterial crossing streets to get a connection. And lo, if I didn't get the #28 bus that I had missed, the second one, and one that I took twice last week. So it would seem they wanted me to get further along the #28 bus route before they wanted me to get on. And as it "happened", this new bus route was on the section of road that I drove each way earlier when on the PC retrieval mission.

And the city bus ride wasn't quite the crush or freakshow of yesterday, but they did put on a very black negro dude who sat motionless in the center of his seat behind the back door. This meant that the exiting gangstalker scum would pass in front of him, and it seems the perps are ramping up the negro interaction again, as it had been a little slack for the past week, thankfully I say from the generalized perspective of being hounded by all and sundry, and knowing it for sure when I see one. I suppose having a 10K race on the weekend and a visiting Africans as well was a big event to do their usual one in front of the other, then reversed, then pass someone in between and the rest of their insane stage follies.

More online schlepping tonight, and then some music listening. Thankfully the level of insane has abuse has dropped this evening; time to call this one done for today.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

In the Beam

The dusk onset faux reflectance off the opposite residence tower windows that has been photographically documented in prior blog posting, has started up tonight. But this time it is getting through the pulled curtains, and now they are flashing it, as if the sun could possibly flash at 3 to 4x/second, and with a direct bead on me. This comes through the E. facing windows, and catches me in my left peripherial vision. And if that weren't contrived and targeted enough, the overhead clunking and pounding has started up to simultaneously make a noise and create vibration by whacking 12" of concrete at the exact moment the light is flashing. Not unlike those zappings I get with simultaneous noise of the same kind. Can we say targeted and abused?

And a day at the First Feral Family (FFF) home cleaning windows today, always a big deal for the assholes given the number of Fuckwits cleaning windows on my gangstalked beat. And too, they are all over me when doing the farm work, passing in and out of the greenhouses of glass. And the assholes let me in on some of their obsession over glass; it comes from silica, an abundant mineral, and it would have certain earth energies (if you believe in this theme that the sickos consistently present to me, and seems reasonable given what I have observed and been harassed with). So in other words, the earth energies of the glass would interfere with the earth energies of where I would be located.

And a major city bus freakshow when returning from the First Feral Family home today; A 1702h bus into downtown from the suburbs, a "reverse commute" and it was standing room only after the first third of the route, in suburbia still. It was a flush of four dudes around me in black first off, then they departed singly and in came the polyglot Fuckwits wearing all colors; a Phillipino in pink beside me, a dude in white in front, a woman in an blue anorak in front, and also doing the "musical seats" act, having the Fuckwits move about and sitting in place of a just-departed Fuckwit. My second Fuckwit seatmate was a woman reading a book with a big splatter of deep blue ink on the edge of the pages. Where have I seen that before? Why, it was the opening assault, actually pre-assault of 04-15-2002, where they entered my apartment and moved things around, made it as if it had been carelessly searched, and put a splatter of blue ink on my office chair mat. And countless marks of blue ink on my fingers and hands even with no actual pen tip contact.

Other city bus freakshow acts were this same woman, when it came time for me to get off, I said that I needed to get to the door as I was against the window, and she looks at me and gets up and precedes me to the door. Nothing like "me too", or "thanks for reminding me" or anything civil, just this bizarre look and then she gets up. Fucking bizarre. And the woman in front of me got off at the same stop as well. One went E. the other N. and I went S. The 90 degree orthogonal split again.

And it was Blue (Plastic) Tarpaulin day today; first the ragged and disintegrating one at the FFF home was somehow removed from covering the pile of dandelions and weeds I had picked, even if it was held down by stones and sheltered on two sides by a hedge and building. Just before I left I placed it over the pile again, little realizing how important that became. There was at least 15 blue tarpaulins enroute while in suburbia, and at least another dozen in pickup trucks, and lo, if they didn't cut down a 30" healthy tree on one frontyard (significant landscape tree) and cut it into 12" sections and then cover most of it with a blue tarp. Fucking bizarre that it needed to be covered at all, as there isn't any major rainstorm coming, and the wood is wet to begin with, and will take months of drying out. And some vehicles and campers covered in blue tarps as well. And when I got off the bus, crossed the street, I had a three vagrant shopping cart honor guard, each loaded with a profusion of plastic bags, and at least one covered in a blue plastic tarpaulin.

And there have been at least two strange tree cuttings in this neighborhood in the last month, where both of them on two streets, no more than 150' apart, were cut at the 4' level with all the branches and the trunk removed, just this elevated stump. There is something the perps would like to discover as it relates to trees, putting down an annual ring each year, and then exposing it to all and sundry on the street at this high stump level. There was nothing wrong with either tree, and it it is odd that it is one out of a healthy row.

Other interesting (likely) complimentary activity has been to screw me out of making tortillas in the typical way of preparing all the ingredients and then making all of it. They screwed me around so there was no tortillas, and with the chicken meat cut up, I had to make do, have some with the tapenade and call it dinner. That left a whack of chicken left as it it a four meal dish, and it was put in the glass bowl yesterday for making tonight's dinner. So, post-dinner, I have the chicken meat in me that was sitting cut up and in the small glass bowl, prepared yesterday, a very first for the Fuckwits to engage in this small difference in seven years of making me eat the same dinner and lunch. So, I am not too surprised that they are flashing me so to speak, as they do this all the time with headlights at the ready, and will insert fake reflectance to beam at me whenever they wish. And if they need a flash when there are no props, why, a plasma beam will show up in front of me on a last resort basis.

And a bid deal over looking at motherboards online tonight, not that I am in the market for one, but my mother's PC, now fixed due a cable problem apparently, still has a cast of FUD over it as it "might be" the problem says the tech. So... with being techno-spooked, I was looking at possible acquisitions that would suit her budget and be a current day model with the best possible performance. And lo, if a new AMD CPU wasn't released today and is the talk of the tech circuit, and some interesting models were bookmarked, one of most singular activities the perps like me to be doing online besides typo sabotage. I got overhead clunkings, sirens and with specially wobbly siren variants added on, I got the above mentioned flashes, and got sent to take a crap which became problematic (sparing the details), and  few other concurrent impositions and trademark perp incursions, one being excessive farts when I have no recent food intake.

 Other events at the FFF home were the SAC overflights again, or at least, the noise thereof, at least three. There were other aircraft as well, though less than the usual for my appearances there.

I thought this was going to be a long detailed blog posting tonight, but I am skipping a few things here. I also did a gasoline filling of my mother's vehicle, in keeping with the perps' insane but consistent interest in having me be exposed to petroleum products of various kinds. Another was for her to write this ridiculous handwritten letter to her solicitor in the UK, totally unreadable, when I had already sent the message by email on her behalf yesterday, because her PC was taken out of commision. So why would she send this letter to repeat what was already dispatched, and have me take it to the mail box while she went to the bank? There is some consistency there, dispatching me twice in two days in the same capacity, carrying/sending a message on her behalf.

Then while waiting in the vehicle for her to return, an unholy parade of gangstalking vehicles erupted behind the red Photinias that line the parking lot, and they all got to parade in their color coordinated glory, and that included the pickups with the load of miscellaneous goods, and... blue tarps. Two vehicles arrived at the same time and parked next to me, one on each side. On the left was a big honking silver-grey SUV and it was the fourth such colored vehicle along that same L. side. On the R. side was a sedan with a granny in a scarlet red anorak that dithered for at least three minutes in the vehicle, then got out very slowly and proceeded to sort things out on the hood of her vehicle for at least two minutes to ensure I got a good shot of her red coat, and then went back in the vehicle and then messed about for a few more minutes, and then repeated the nonsense of standing at the hood of her vehicle again for about the same duration. Fucking bizarre to say the least. This was the post-lunch time, and lo, if I wasn't jerked into having red tomato soup for lunch as the more preferable one was not to be had. And I had red meat for lunch as well, something that isn't normally availible as the deli chicken is there in abundance, but it too was gone, with my mother going on about how it was inexplicably missing.

And when in the kitchen, at the location that I usually cut the cooked beef meat on the cutting board on Sunday nights when I have my one beef intake of the week, a red stain arrived on the laminate countertop and it could not be removed. All I can suggest is that it serves as a localized red reference at that very location where I cut up cooked red meat.

Enough color samplings and suggestions, and I am calling this one done for today.

Yet Another Hard Drive Failure

A seeming hard drive failure on my mother's PC again, the WD 640 Gb Caviar Black with the 5 year warranty going inside of a month. The last one went three months before it went. So far, I haven't had one go yet, though I have three of these same models as they are reputed to be so reliable. For the first three I ordered, two have gone, both in my mother's PC. On and on with sabotage over hard drives. The history on this one was it was to be a back up drive and was sitting on my shelf for some two weeks and lo, that is when the first one went, so the back up hard drive was put in her PC as it was on hand and the infernal RMA process took some 20 days. It is interesting to me that the drive was sitting on my shelf and then re-purposed as a drive for her PC while I ordered two more for the Linux installation that was delayed. My history of hard drives is peculiar, as I had two dissimilar drives go at the same moment in 2007, and even the technicians had never heard of such an odd coincidence. It was not a power surge, and they both failed together on boot up, something that no one can explain, as one was three months old, the other of a different manufacturer was at least two years old.

Which begs the question, would I be any better off with a solid state drive? Not when sabotage is routinely applied to these spinning magnetic disks, as they can surely make them go pop as well.

It is a Monday, a stayover at the First Feral Family home and breakfast there, as well as the rest of the morning routine. They had me see the BSOD screen of my mother's PC, which might be the reason there was a plethora of deep blue vehicles early on the vehicular gangstalking, much increased from normal. And then a visit to Home Depot where the freaks and hounds were on me, as well as a full store width walk to no avail to find that the outdoor paving stones were near when we went in, the asphalt surfaced garden area, replete with the fugly frizzy male ponytail act. Fucking gross this kind of hair, but it wasn't the only one on show today.

And I am under some kind of imposed cognitive fog today, feeling especially clouded and dumbed down. I guess they thought too much neural energy wasn't allowed, hence this semi-stoned feeling/partial derealization state. Plenty of plasma and maser beams as well, as I write this, constantly surging and pulsing in my vision when at the LCD, but also when in my apartment and the First Feral Family home last night watching TV, and the documentary, 638 Ways to Kill Castro. The title is overstated to quantify all invasion (Bay of Pigs) terrorist and assasination attempts related to Cuba and Castro, but some of the perpetrators are actually terrorists under a more conservative definition, and are free men in the USA. One is in custody, but with daily phone communication with his supporters. It is all very odd that so many attempts have been made on Castro's life, and so many failed, even of will at the last moment. The inevitable conspiracy notions come to mind, though nothing that tips its hand, just the sheer number of failures that were scrupulously quantified by Castro's top security commander who had many operatives in different camps. They even called the FBI to defuse, or prevent, a bomb at the podium of Castro when speaking at the UN. It is all very curious in any event, and I am not sure what conspiratorial agendas were at play, if any. Just a super heated banana republic, but the enduring loathing of the Cuban exiles runs deep to say the least.

The documentary even had George Bush putting on his best Spanish with his trademark smirk, calling for the freedom of Cuba. Some of the Cuban exile agitators and operatives have signed and photographic  mementos of meeting various US presidents as well as commendations.

Other stuff yesterday was to have an ersatz building maintenance "team" outside my door for 30 minutes yesterday, in place to install light bulbs when I was taking out the garbage and managing to pass a light fixture from one to the other, 2' in front of me and where I was to walk through. The white angora sweatered Asian woman didn't strike me as much of a maintenance person, but the Assistant Flake was on the job too. On my way back from the garbage shute, a old bearded duffer male was standing there at one door, making himself out to be a tenant and comprising a three strong cluster fuck at the corner I was to walk by. And not forgetting that he hallway is covered in polyethylene sheets, brown paper and green tape as part of this three week (so far) effort to paint the hallway. One coat is done, and it might be the only one, as the perps might want me to have more "poly time" when egressing my apartment. As I have mentioned, the perps have a strong need to understand the behavoir of various plastics in my proximity, and decking the hallway, and on other floors too, is just the latest of this ongoing depraved inanity relating to their past follies. Said follies they tell me are allowing ubiquitous pollutants that have strange and unkown properties between the quantam and the macro molecule level. Ask me if I care, as it is not my problem, so why should I be hounded by  (poly) plastic bag bearing, PVC bearing and like fuckery for over eight years and counting?

The deal is that even if the perps screw up, they still make the victims pay; relentless life rape and sabotage is what they know best.

Plenty of concurrent overhead clunking noise, typo sabotage and outside noises while composing a letter on behalf of my mother, and then when sending it via email, along with a Google search to figure out what the email address was. I cannot get over the perps' relentless and continued inanity over such pedantic activities, never mind setting it up in the first place by taking out her hard drive again, as detailed above. And in keeping with today's congitive containment, they also had me "forgetting" my aunt's name, as the letter pertained to a phone call to a solicitor with her, and then my mother to her sister, and her is me at the tail end of this communication chain, sending the response on behalf of my mother, along with Googling for the complete email address. Exciting moments for sick assholes.

The perfect storm of Monday fuckery seems to be building; windy weather outside, phone calls (EMF at my ear plus plastic interaction), the imminent visit by the management to fix the freaking toilet, the hallway vacuuming (hallway shrouded in above mentioned poly plastic to prevent paint splatter, so why vacuum it?), and overhead pounding noise that that got through my earmuffs. There is a certain elevated and frenetic perp behavior on Mondays, the return day from a First Feral Family stayover. And I don't think I have seen the last of it either.

Another zapping with overhead clunking noise at the same time, this with my earmuffs on for greater aural penetration I would surmise. I got zapped in bed a few nights ago, again with the concurrent overhead clunking that now seems to be the chosen jerkaround combination. Deeper and deeper the assholes are driving it would seem.

The toilet got fixed again, finally after a week and hounding the management for two days. The hold-the-lever-down-for-flush games might be over, and my knowlege of knowing how to fix it was totally deleted after observing the assistant manager attending to it. The big objective over the malfunctioning toilet was to have the color change of its contents being flushed away to be exposed to my arm for longer, being kept on the lever to keep the flushing action. And I don't think it was any coincidence that they also planned the 10 day (and counting) rash on my arm at the same time, still red and having run out of the medication that leaked down the side of the vessel. The latter stunt was mentioned in a past blog, but to reiterate, what they wanted to do was to change the orientation of the anti-rash creme to be predominantly along the vertical axis of the 2" high plastic jar. That the anti-rash creme has been in my posession since 2004 shows how dedicated they are and how long they will wait for their moment of continued fuckery specialization. We have a long way to go when they are putzing over the dermal intake of prescribed medication depending on the orientation of the medication in the jar and how it was retrieved. All the fuckery of nicking holes in the end of my glove fingers has another few years to go, and that is just related to soil contact.

A decent write-up of Catherine Austin Fitts at Are You Gangstalked?. I wouldn't call her a Targeted Individual in the ongoing and complete sense of the term that I have come to know, and as far as I can tell she wasn't gangstalked. But it shows what happens when you correlate geographic data to HUD default loan data and find the intersection to be in the drug dealing areas of town and put it on the internet. Someone didn't like that and put on the full court press for a time, sending her to the UK to work for a time, even if it was inadvertent as it seems. It is interesting that she had some accelerated dental work needed; root canals and crowns were decidedly ramped up from 2000 to 2002 in my case, and it does make me wonder if that was also arranged to have some extra devices put in, getting me ready for the total life rape when it began April 15. 2002. Nearly all my molars save for the rearmost four are crowned, except one remaining with the amalgam filling in it. Even on a dental plan, crowns were costing me $500 each, and it was another means of reducing my financial circumstances. I suspect they monitor and predict the TI's financial circumstances to the penny for months in advance, possibly a year or more as it serves as the basis as to how to screw the TI; is purchase possible or not? That is, they aren't going to have me purchase a new car as it isn't doable, not to mention the monthly costs. But if they want me to be around new vehicles, why, have the TI work as a cleaner in a car dealership for 8 months for 1.5 hours/work day.

I could never figure out why my work colleagues could afford a new vehicle when we worked for the government, and it makes sense that they might of recieved them as payment, and then they would be arranged to be around me within the work context for the new car "glow" (depending on the color) interaction that the perps keep hounding me over with so many of the gangstalkers entering or exiting vehicles in my proximity. And all over me whenever I exit a bus or vehicle, even if a po-dunk small town appears to have a sudden population increase.

And a fucked up dinner with the tortillas "forgotten" twice now; the assholes fucked me out of getting them Saturday and Sunday, and then made me forget all about them today, and I go to make dinner, start heating the olive oil in the frypan, cut up the chicken meat and then "discover" no tortillas to put all this into. I was fucking screaming infuriated over this as I never forget to get needed groceries, and it happened twice. So there will be a later evening visit to the supermarket to get brown items; tortillas, coffee and chocolate. The perps have been big on evening time shopping in this manner, especially for coffee, and it doesn't stop the horde of Fuckwits parading by as the grinder is running, and I have to attend to the bag to stop it from overflowing even if ground coffee takes up less volume than the beans (same bag). It should be a field day with today's escalated Monday fuckery.

And I got a notice that the painters will need to access my apartment all day tomorrow for masking the door frame and then painting it. Just what I needed, more paint fumes in my face, as I don't like it one bit, and it seems that the curing of recent paint is a big deal for the assholes.

Still some ferocious winds out there as I learned from my trip to the local supermarket. And where did all the plastic bags come from that are blowing about and dancing under my feet? And the weirdest act goes to the woman in a yellow coat packing a 5' long plastic dayglo lane marker around as if found booty. Though the dude who got on at the second floor with the gaping rear seam in his leather jacket also deserves a honorable mention. He leads me out, holds the door open, and then follows me, presumably to the ridiculous irrigation services trades van parked on the street which was gone for the short time I was away. Another of the personal space invasion games, with one gangstalker in the store nearly draped over my shopping basket as he cruised by, a pinch point with some standing gangstalkers getting an assist for setting it up. At least it was on the light side and a checkout was free so I could get through fast enough and out of there.

Then later games with the toilet again in mid-crap; the chain magically sprang off again and I had to get my hands wet inside the tank to get it hooked up and shortened as that seemed to be the big problem earlier. This was the regular Monday crap, as I nearly always have one then and can go the rest of the week with one more as a rule. Though, the perps have been more interventionist of late, especially with toilet water events, so who knows what the deal is. I suspect Monday is a big day for them in capturing more remotely sensed energetic detail, and then they spend the rest of the week attempting to determine these at different locations.

A sudden hankering to show these two pictures that I don't recall if I had in my blog postings back in mid-January.(Likely I did as I seem to be unmotivated to look). Nothing incriminating, but these are backyard neighbors to the First Feral Family home, and both are recent satellite dish installations. The majority of them have this near vertical orientation of the dishes, something I haven't seen anywhere before. And having three of them in a cluster strikes me as odd, but I have never had satellite TV service to know if this is what is done. The cluster of three has three tones of grey between them, also interesting as that should not confer any benefit to the signal.

Some more music listening tonight with the odd overhead ceiling/floor pounding noise coming through. And my accompanying activity might also be part of the gestalt of total life abuse; checking out jobs and reading that the Montreal Canadiens won their playoff game 4 -1 against Washington tonight. Given that my tormentors can apply extra-gravitic english to any object or person, it does make me ponder as to the veracity of professional sporting events. Those injuries, lucky bounces, hitting the goal post, and a broken stick in the last Canucks' game led to the game and series winning goal. Another rich theme to recast in another light, and ponder what the perp agenda might me in the bigger picture of what this might confer for them, beyond betting revenue.

More music listening, this time bluegrass and mandolin, male and female vocals.

Enough action for a Monday and off to do the sleepless routine for a few hours after going to bed if past Mondays are prologue.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Hot Cooked Enragement

A round of at least 20 rage-ifications while making lunch just before this; the highlight was the chopped chicken meat piece, 1/2" long, that wiggled and moved by itself as if it were like a silverfish insect. Highly kinetic, and remotely controlled, and designed to piss me off as the starting event to enraging me for the entire meal preparation time, eating time, and then when doing the dishes. Other stunts included flicking olive oil 2' onto the stovetop and floor, smashing crockery together that was in the dishes rack and was not in any way caused by me, and a few others that aren't allowed to be recalled at the moment. And too, extra "reactive" enragement, as I would be rather casual about this bullshit long ago as I have seen it so often, and this was a little more blatant, removing ostensible cause by increments it would seem.

Cutting up the cooked chicken meat still continues to be the big deal for the perps. Not only the above fuckery, but others to keep the rage level going, and then bring on the dude talk heard through the wall, and seeming one of the more important background noises of late. They awoke me in the night to hear more, and also did this two nights ago. So it would seem that dude talk is going through some kind of diurnal neural mapping, nightime and daytime, and in all states of emotional regulation, however the assholes quantify it.

Before making lunch from scratch it was finishing up the laundry, including the teatowel that was used in the kitchen when making above lunch. The hallway is still in a state of being masked for painting, now going into its fourth week, but they did actually paint the walls this week, the first coat I assume. And in some way, the painters flicked paint on the floor covering poly sheets, but somehow that paint was never wet on the day they painted and consequently there was no tracking of wet paint anywhere. Not even the painters. Which makes me suspicious as to how the painting job really got done, as I never saw or heard them and I was in all that morning it was done, but thats just the way it seems.

Another shut-in day seems to be in the making, and it is a big deal for the perps to arrange these near incommunicado durations that go on for days at a time when they don't want me working, which seems to be the case. No emails, no phone calls, no responses from 20 job application submissions in the last month, and not much of anything else. All part of the deal.

Other regular impositions were a final vivid pre-awakening dream sequence of being hounded. We have done this in dreaming before, and it gets done in real life all the time when outside this apartment so I don't see what the fucking deal is.

A sudden need to take a pee came on just as I began reading an Oracle Software blog posting. Such a topic wouldn't be any bit exciting, so it must of been a tactically forced pee. I wonder what the sickos get from me in my pee when I first set eyes on techincal items like Oracle sofware? I only took some 180 hours of instruction on Oracle since October, so one would think that incremental exposure like that would of been figured out long ago.

Now some overhead pounding of the ceiling/floor as I was reading some more Oracle blogs. This strikes me as a long term jerkaround, whatever it is that they are so nuts about me looking at an Oracle blog.

And how is this for extra-conventional harassment? The last jar of coconut butter changed from room temperature hard and crumbly to soft and spreadable for the last time I used it before finishing the jar. I start a new jar and lo, if it isn't the same, unlike the previous two, where it was hard and crumbly at room temperature. No big deal, so I spread it on the toast and it spreads nicely. Then when eating it with the jam on top it goes stiff and crumbly again, all to dump crumbs on my plate while eating it. Which suggests that screwing with the physical properties one time wasn't enough, but they did it twice to replicate the crumb inundation games of the past. And the past was that it was crumbly and had to be dug out with a spoon and dropped onto the toast as trying to work with it was a crumbly mess. Then some progress was allowed in mixing the coconut butter and the jam together in a small glass vessel into an even paste, and it worked fine until the properties of the coconut butter changed per above. And today, they messed with the lid of the coconut jar, and wouldn't let the threads engage until four attempts and screaming rage oover getting jerked with. All this is to convey the level of detail, planning and insane fuckery that goes with my food preparation and consumption.

And I suppose having a new jar of peanut butter and two bags of edible seeds (pumpkin and macademia nuts) in the cupboards where the coconut jar is stored is part of the goings on as well, though don't ask me as to the rationale, as I don't really know. I suspect that the seeds and nuts have some kind of energetic signature, and it aids the perps in what they are up to, and all the better that the seeds or nuts are consumed at mealtimes, as this adds extra energetics to me. Or, as the seeds and nuts are consumed in my digestive system, they lose their energetic signature and become part of me, and the nature of this is unknown to the gutless sickos who want to detect this remotely. lets see, I have been eating hemp seeds with my cereals for the past seven years, and still they hound me over this, and even changed the supplier of them for three weeks or so, now reverting to the same brand again as it "happened" to be in great supply when I went to replenish my supply. As I have said, the perps don't seem to understand everything they need to about the intake and digestion of food, which likely includes the entire omega fatty acids genesis and uptake. Not my problem, so why am I getting hounded over this and have had two separate siren cascades as I wrote this along with red flashed from this here LCD as well?

And I did get a reminder this morning that the perps are working hard on their wood adhesives exposure games, which includes the embedded glues for plywood (phenols), particleboard (urethane) and OSB (oriented strand board, formaldehyde glues). In the parking lot opposite they arranged a delivery of OSB and had a forklift taking off lifts of it and into the parkade. They even arranged a prior rain shower so there was wet ground all about, and presumably, for me to look at it briefly through the window. The drift I get from the perps is that these glues are ubiquitous pollutants in humans, and are causing them grief in attempting to determine my remotely applied energetic readings. Not my problem, so why am I hounded so relentlessly by the party that created this issue in the first place? It is my conspiratorial opinion that most major commercial volume raw materials and products are governed by the perps, usually the cause of such pollutants.

What interests the perps so much about freaking light bulbs and lighting fixtures? After dinner (and after sitting in the table chair), I used the chair as a stepstool to change the light bulb in the hallway, and then in the bathroom for the second one. Naturally, I wasn't allowed to notice that either bulb had gone until sometime afterward. In 2009 the perps learned how to defeat me noticing a drop in the light level or change in light quality from a source. One of their accomplishments which they take great efforts to backtest on me, both First Victim and First Test Subject if you will forgive my rare aggrandizments.

Other (likely) related lighting fixture action of late is in the hallway and the three week long painting job that has maybe two days of activity and one coat. They have taken out the plastic diffusing grates from the flourescent lighting fixtures and placed them against the wall, then later turned the corner and put them further away and in direct line of my doorway. Then that wasn't enough, so they put them in the lobby and leaned against the manager's office door. It seems they cannot chase me enough with these long time fixtures components, and have made use of placing them along my egress paths. As mentioned in past blog postings, they also changed out the lighting fixtures in the building wing of the college that I attended for my night school classes, doubtless energy efficiency was the rationale, and maybe it was legit.


Sustained and harmonizing vehicle horns with the music playing in my headphones. Stupdider and and stupider.

More music listening tonight. Neko Case has my attention for now, though a different feel to Middle Cyclone than earlier work.

This dull day is done.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Protean Plot

I was finally allowed to chase down a hint from the weekend, and check out the Greek god, Proteus. He is a herder of seals, but also a shape shifter. Very interesting, which begat some more thoughts as to just maybe Greek Mythology is really about visiting aliens. I am sure this is not new, and there must be some more research which I will endeavor to do, as I don't really have much to do today, and they got me up at 0610h, three hours earlier than usual.

And sure enough, one researcher has gone on to call this epoch of civilization the "Alien Raj", or reign. I concur, given my now cycnical nature of what is in the news and why. We are lab rats for whatever reason, and in the front line are TI's, with no one to complain to about our situation of cessation of human liberty, no matter where we live.

Sleeping at the PC a few minutes ago and was awakened with a nasty jolt, as if I walked off a stairway. All part of the pre-outing readiness the want to put me through, even if it is a five minute shopping journey.

Sure enough, a herd of six "greeters" at the doorway to the building were in place, one next to the door was on the cell phone even, likely for some extra EMF action. One was the putative negro commercial painter in his white spattered brown fleece jacket. (Odd that he was standing there with the street types, as he would of had a key to get inside). And the brown VW van was turning a corner right in my face at the first pedestrian intersection. Then a withered wack woman arrived at the opposite side of the crosswalk and stayed there the entire time, still in the same place when on my way back.

This grocery shopping was to get hot cooked chicken and a few other items, and such sorties are given the name of Chicken Run, as it is a big gangstalking event when I go for this particular item. I had two wheelchair acts on each of the two streets I walked, all of 150', and lo, when I turned the corner to enter the building, another wheelchair act. Then it was couples gangstalking, or more like disparate couple as they seemed that they weren't together at first, entering the building 6' apart, she leading. She was blonde, and he was in the same kind of black stif fabric jacket like mine. First they were both on me at the kiwi fruit, doubling  back again to walk over my tracks, then he at the cheese section, "happening" to be standing dumbfounded in front of the cheese and me having to access from the side of the planted Fuckwit. And lo, she was on me when I went to see if there was any tapenade, and by then, I had all I wanted, and had enough of this pair on my ass to get to an open checkout.

Other Fuckwits were circulating, one crossing the main aisle without looking, another granny getting ahead of me for the tea section, and another circulating around me while I was selecting the hot chicken. Yet again, no half chickens and no free range partial chicken. It  has been this same arrangement for the last three months, and of course I "forget" to look to see if is that way when I am not intending to purchase one. And this "need" started when there was accelerated decay on the chicken in the fridge, even when it is on its coldest setting.

Then when outside, there was a parking lot vehicle bashing going on, one vehicle backing into another, nearly broadside to my intended path, so I had to walk around on the concrete walkway instead of on the asphalt parking lot. The perps go to huge amounts of effort to determine what interactions I have with these major built surfaces, and will even have their Fuckwits sitting on the concret curb at a bus stop with their feet out on the asphalt.

And lo, if they didn't have another wheelchair ready to preceed me down the street along with a native Indian in shorts and a ponytail, in black and white clothing. And lo, if there wasn't another wheelchair in the lobby of this apartment building when I got back, to have me take the stairs instead of being captive with it in the elevator. And twice in the last week they have put on a wheelchair act on this floor, seen when waiting for the elevator. All these wheelchairs are motorized in today's hounding, though they often emphasize one type for certain days over the other.

Once I defatted the chicken and had some to eat off the cutting board and had cleaned up, I attended to the garbage so to send the bones and fat on their way. And when I came back, why, someone had placed a tree leaf on the kitchen floor for crissakes. Eight years of fucking insane  harassment and this is where they are; pissing around with tree leaves as a surrogate for showing their sick faces.

And it wasn't supposed to rain today, and it was overcast for most of t he day, but some 15 minutes before I headed out, the rain started up. I have long indicated that rain starting just before or just after I go outside is too frequent to be anything but arranged. Yet again, they arranged rain just before me walking a whole 150' to the local supermarket, shop, and then return. It just blows me away as to how much they plan even a five minute outing to the grocery store. And it is likely that they woke me up early to give me a longer shut-in duration before setting off. Fucking beserk the perps are, and they are getting worse.

And I see my wish list at Powell's Books got truncated/deleted somehow, as only the those wish listed in the past two days are displayed. And when I discovered that, why, the overhead rumbling noise went off, and getting through the earmuffs as it usually does, like any noise they want me to hear.

Out of boredom I want to listen to music that I have bookmarked, and the first one needs Real Audio/Player. I go to the web site and there is no download link for Windows, only everything else and every other language. I ended up with Real Audio not on my PC after the Windows 7 upgrade, so I suppose they were lying in wait. Which it seems, as the outside vehicular noise ramped up with the headphones on, and then some male voice noise from the hallway starts up. Timed exactly when I have my headphones on which don't block out noise like the earmuffs. Funny how that happens.

The latest sonic fuckery was for the perps to invade with music of their own choosing while enjoying a very different performer. And I wasn't allowed to figure out what was going on at first, and even after shutting down the player their music kept coming through. Always something.

Music listening tonight; probably the most engaged music listening I have been allowed in over a year. They seem to be testing my taste in music; taking me from sultry jazz (Kat Edmonson) to scorchy Lucinda Williams (Little Honey album). Plenty of samples and some interviews at Pure Music, this link. I don't go for the heavy metal music, rock, and grunge, and even this seems important for the assholes. I am sure they have some surrogates in mind who do like such music. And I get the odd overhead pounding of 12" of concrete ceiling/floor at certain intervals, "joining me" with the rampant plasma and beams flitting about.

Time to call this dull day done and consider the same for tomorrow as well. Maybe they will let me out for a Saturday newspaper, as that has been featuring for a few months now.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Breakfast Time Abuse

More strange dreams of being chased and hounded this morning before getting up. I am finding this theme to be highly annoying as I get plenty of it in real form and don't need any extra exposure while resting.

And the last of the coconut butter in the jar might have been the beserk rationale for laying on extra enraging abuse this morning. Such things are important to the assholes, which included finding a paper label on the bottom of the jar, another first. Not only is there extra claning noise erupting, even if the spoon isn't in contact with the glass jar, but crumbs form on the edge of the spoon, and when I use my finger to clean them off, why, they migrate just ahead of my finger and then have to be picked up off the front or back of the spoon. And then they can migrate again, back to the edge to repeat this insane crumb fucking inanity that has escalated in a similar way for all other crumb types.

The crumb fucking also erupted without visible cause for the coffee, a skiff of it just flew off the top of the spoonful that was over the carafe and about to be deposited in there. This 10 crumb flight was without any of the usual guises of wobbling the spoon or my hand, and was only a momentary pause of less than a second, and it just flew off. Other crumbs arrived in the long running jerkaround that the perps play when the coffee press and stem are placed on the stove, there is usually an arrival of some 10 to 20 crumbs, of no ostensible cause, as it is totally clean. Besides, these crumbs are usually oversized as my coffee is ground much finer, almost to a powder, and yet the seeming coffee crumbs are always the same size, wet or dried. Another batch of like crumbs arrives on the dishes drain mat, as if they had dropped from the just cleaned coffee pot and press stem, and again, both are totally clean and rinsed and yet these oversized coffee crumbs consistently erupt all to have me move them out with my fingers. And having me make finger or body contact with objects of interest, especially plastics is always a big deal for the assholes, as if shaving wasn't enough in one day, given the barrage of senseless jerkarounds that go with that exercise every day.

Other breakfast time abuse to raise the rage level was to fuck my vision so I couldn't see the application of the jam on the coconut butter. In a blatant mind fuck, along with a blatant unconventional change of the coconut butter's physical properties, they had me spread the coconut butter on the toast, and then the jam on top of it. But, as it happens, coconut butter isn't spreadable at room temperature, it is too crumbly. No problem for the perps though, they messed with it somehow so it was spreadable for the last week, even if I didn't apply it in that form. The routine has been to mix the coconut butter and the jam in a small vessel into a spreadable paste, and after the games of transferring it to the toast are over, I apply this red mix to the sound of much noisestalking and some vision impairment fuckery. But today, the assholes mindfucked me out of this habit, and didn't let me know until I get to notice that the coconut butter, in its spreadable version, is on the toast, but only after the jam is placed in the small vessel. This is common, fucking my habitual routines and then allowing me to notice in mid-task that I got totally mind-fucked into doing it incorrectly. Today's solution was to spread the coconut butter on the toast, (a first, as it was never spreadable before), then retrieve the jam and spread it on the coconut. This moment was too exciting for the vision fucking department who then promptly fucked my vision while doing this for the first time, and backed off when I screamed at the assholes, the usual outcome.

There were a few more instignating jerkarounds at breakfast, and somehow they slipped out of recall, as it seems they don't want anyone else to know. With the end of the coconut butter, the jar gets cleaned out for recycling, and this too is a moment of fuckery as somehow it doesn't get cleaned out on the first pass, and I have to reapply the brush to clean it again, all to vocalized disagreement as to how the mess stayed in the jar when it was thoroughly cleaned the first time. This is one reason I find that unexpected results from large industrial processes that cause re-work are interesting as the assholes put me through the same kind of activity. Projects like the Large Hadron Collider that had to be fixed, just built vessels that have to be drydocked due to a erroneous sensor and the like, share similar parallels to what the perps do to me; creating extra re-work. And in the past, with my employers participation; building a database three times due to "unforseen" technology changes or contractor fraud.

And they even got the army out on my way back from yoga, replicating past Thursdays when this was an every time post-yoga occurence for some six months in 2007. Two army twits in camo and their funny olive drab berets just "happened" to be on the street and entering the off/on convenience store close to this apartment building. AND, there is no army detachment in this town anymore, so where did they come from?

The big run up was staying behind at yoga for 40 min. with just the instructor and talking about challenging poses, relaxing and then doing some of these poses just with her. She put out the deep burgundy colored mats for this impromptu session, the mats I normally avoid. And also, in keeping with other feints and fuckarounds of late, taking off my shoes, socks and jacket shortly after putting them back on. The perps pulled this same stunt on me three days ago when I put on my freshly laundered olive colored shirt, only to find there was a fine navy blue lint film on it. It got pulled off after being on for less than a minute, and so it was placed to the laundry hamper, likely as some kind of energetic  reference for just-laundered, dresser stored and briefly worn shirts.

Other yoga related machinations were to move the class to the adjacent room, though not without the usual overhead clunking and clattering that marks every class start. And they put the negro woman on again, sucking on a cigarette when I walked in, and then she shows up later before class started. They put a negro gangstalker woman in a total scarlet red outfit on my way to yoga, and then put the loafing male gangstalker in the lobby of the building when I returned. I suppose they wanted to keep the negro exposure up, and got me close to my place for both outbound and inbound journey legs. As usual, crumbs, pebbles and lint arrived around me like in the other room to have me pick them off at various times during the class.

And more machinations online in pictures and like images to make there seem to be negro-like Caucasians, or else some in a very dark lit image. The sickos cannot get enough negro emulation images in front of me it would seem, as they continue to peck away at this particular class of objective, possibly from trauma associations when locked in cages with negro children of my age duing the memory blanked out years, as pictured in the Indian Lake Project blog. Though I suspect there is a lot more to it than simply that, given the elaborate set ups of the past.

I also got my wacko in white on my way back from yoga; the ever consistent "pop out" of a Fuckwit from a adjacent kitchen or commercial painting job, just "happening" to erupt nearby, and tail me. Or else, be seen from further back in total like yesterday's long haired male in white. The sickos have been heavy on the MIW, Men In White this week, having them erupt singly or in groups. The even went so far to "blonde-ify" this particular color of garment, having a blonde woman walk past on the street below, in a white jacket. So why are white coats and pants of interest to the Fuckwits who seem to take every opportunity of this particular dress mode to show me a specimen, or a cluster of them?

I was allowed to read a longer news posting, and lo, if the overhead clunking and pounding didn't start up, somehow occuring overhead and getting through my earmuffs. Without my earmuffs on now, the noise continues, but at a reduced volume, and very much the same volume level as I heard through the earmuffs. Interesting that the assholes can keep the noise volume the same, with or without hearing protective earmuffs on. And for typing this, I get a shot of pain into my left jaw.

The pre-dusk onset reflective light games are starting up for 2010. This is where light reflects off the tall residential buildings' glass and right into this apartment with unerring precision. There are three buildings that "do this", each in turn with the sun in the W., and each of these have been photographed with the images in this blog, 2009 for sure. And the closest building, is a tall residential tower that also supplies a generalized reflection that fills this apartment to create some interesting lighting and contrast games the perps like to apply at this time of the solar day. And they did some window reflection games a few days ago as the start of 2010 directed window "reflections" games.

And a post-downnload and install timing for my meagre dinner tonight. The activities of downloading and installing files is also of significant perp interest, often noisestalked, but today they decided that the aforementioned lighting games and pre-dinner software installation was what they wanted. I am sure this activity has been followed in past incarnations by lunch, and even a forced pee.

An evening time tea and chocolate while the PC was running the infernal Mozy backup that goes in fits and starts, and only when I initiate it. It will be good for another overnight run with the PC lights flashing and twinkling while I sleep. Someone had this figured out long ago.

The perps decided to choke me and have me cough while having tea, and then infuriate me all the more with continued jerkarounds of the same kind. Their latest stunt is to fly spittle out of my mouth when screaming at the assholes, and of course to bring it to my attention to raise the rage-ification level one more notch. Another never-before, this spittle ejection fuckery. So far, not on the street like the wads of it they arrange for me on my walking beat. I have been witness to it arriving, and they can make it arrive by teleportation immediately in front of the assigned operative as if it were from them, which it might of been, but is not ejected by the operative; it arrives with a splat at their feet, a foot in front of them or so. Their method of being disgusting in public while not been seen looking disgusting it would seem. Very clever.

Though not all operatives get this honor, as a woman was spitting on the street, twice in fact, four days ago when wallking down Yates St., with my mother to the parkade, as the closer one "happened" to be full and thereby force an extra two block walk. Funny how that happens, these protracted exercises.

And on the MIW's topic again; later, but before dinner time, they put on a Fuckwit running on the sidewalk below as I "happened" to cross the floor to the kitchen, a dude in a white ball cap and a white shoulder portion of this jacket, with the lower portion a navy blue. This was in the same place as the above mentioned "blonde-ified" woman in white, so I assume this was all about location referential color games, just a dude instead of the blonde, and more acceptable navy blue color as a Favored color association. Stupider and stupider it gets.

Enough of today's games, though tomorrow looks to be wash, as in a shut-in day, as there are no appointments scheduled. One can never be sure if a sudden Feral Family event will erupt, so who knows. A Chicken Run tomorrow is scripted, a whole ten minute exercise/round trip.

And I see Mindcontrolforums (dot com) is down, and I might just be the last TI to know that, given how these events so often reach me last. And that should be one site to keep, as not only does it have my stories on it, but over 700 other TI's, a vital nexus of this state of abuse and attempting to get some respect. I don't know of any TI who is flush, so I will leave it at that. My own job aspirations seem to be still obstructed; I don't know how many farms I have responded to, and I get no answers, even with some five months of experience ending in late 2009. Blogging off....

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Geriatric Linestalking

As mentioned in recent blog postings, the new public display format for gangstalking is to have a line of the Fuckwits arranged facing me, or as of today, for me to pass through an opening in the line. Today, it was six geriatrics lined up; one standing to my right, the sidewalk, and five more standing or sitting at the bench. I was on a tea and chocolate acquisition sortie to LD, and they were in place for both outbound and inbound journey legs. And forget ostensible rationale, there wasn't any that I could tell as to why they were clustered in file and there for some 10 minutes.

Other detritus of the just-stand-there kind was the dude in camo at the front of the store, a fresh skinhead doing squat, but on his cell phone when I exited and with his shades on. I don't like the bald headed look, and when I averted my eyes from this disgusting visage, the perps put the image back in my perihperial vision for an extra second or two. This has been the trend for the past six months, adding something I didn't care to see back into my peripherial vision as if it were there by way of physical sight lines when it should of been long gone. And after being hounded by the Unfavored among other parties, I should be an expert in what I would seen in peripherial vision and visage aversion, and somehow that has changed. And it has lead to some suspicion that the fuckers also engaged in sexual abuse along with the clinical and cognitive abuse of the "lost years" of memory deletion when aged 2 to 5. I heard from one of the Duplessis Orphans that consummate mind-trasher of the CIA's interests, Dr. Ewen Cameron of McGill University, was also a sexual abuser too when I lived in Montreal for two yearsin the 1950's. Very interesting, as that hasn't been documented to my knowledge, though his main claim to fame was to attempt to re-write one's knowledge after attempting to purge it in the guise of psychiatric care, har, har.

And what is with the Men In White, MIW's; I had at least six parties of the MIW's yesterday, and then today when waiting at the the pedestrian crossing, a long haired male all in white "shows up" across the street, and at the instant I see him, a vehicle noise goes off. I had at least four males clustered around me at that moment, and then there was also the Fuckwit who was "waiting" for the pedestrian traffic control by circling half the street on his bicycle he had rode across the crosswalk. Like WTF; he could of crossed the road in its entirely as there wasn't any traffic, but instead he does a 360 degree loop of the street portion that was in front of me, along with keeping his mouth open and wearing a red helmet over a blue ball cap.

Other inanity for the freakshow was putting on a tri-motorcycle outside the LS store, replete with Harley Davidson level noise and the long haired male driver. Another WTF; no motorcycle clubs for at least five miles, and an urban shopping center, and a never-seen-in-this-town vehicle.

I suppose the big perp excitement might have been the fact that they finally painted the hallway outside this apartment; the poly plastic masking has been in place for some 2.5 weeks, and they finally showed up. The hallways are a light yellow color, and I will assume this will be featured among the gangstalking Fuckwits over the next week or so, especially yog tomorrow. I can hardly wait.

An increase of popups and other excuses to put a dialog box in front of what I am reading marks the latest online fuckery. Despite having the Ad Block extension to Firefox, I still get plenty of pop-up ads that manage to somehow erupt as I am about to read an article online, or when extra-engaged at an interesting section. As always, nothing that happens in my life is a coincidence, and more like, is coordinated to obsessive levels of precision.

A short round of Linux activity, booting from a different disk in the removable rack. That lasted some 5 minutes of jerkaround time in attempting to unzip (untar?) an update to Firefox which incurred a directory installation problem. The the imposed piss-off mood takes over and then I bail on it. I see that physical backup disk that was installed has now become part of a larger a logical disk, this "update" taking place on the drive which was on the shelf and removed from the PC for the past two weeks. And it seems the perps want me to engage in Linux activities at about that rate, every ten days to two weeks, a sudden motivational urge comes over me to attempt my Oracle database and tools load, but it didn't get that far. As to why they have to impose this bizarre constraint I have no idea, but I suppose they are taking out some of other factors and attempting to remotely detect whatever it is they are after. Not forgetting that the Linux hard drive is 750Gb when the other two large drives are 640Gb. All these differences are important for the perps for whatever reason.

And I note that my mother started another hard drive failure scare yesterday, indicating it was the similar to the last one in terms of symptoms, and then engendering the train of hassle that follows with taking the PC in, getting the serial number, online RMA submission, getting the replacement part, sending the old one back, and the installation of the new one. But all that was bullshit, as the problem was a Microsoft exercise in vexation, adding a virtual printer and then assigning it as the printer preference, and then leveraging this to cause a few more presentation inconsistencies, and finally getting it removed for the moment, though I suspect it will come back as the sickos find this kind of juvenility so... very funny. One small icon change on an update is enough to derail my mother's grasp on what the fuck is going on with Windows, so I suspect the next generation iPad with a handwriting interface (with an pen pointer) just might be the right solution whenever it comes to pass. Maybe it is already availible as a hardware and software solution, though running on Windows.

And the reflected beam games are now on for 2010; this is where the opposite residential tower's windows manage to somehow catch the setting sun and direct it into this apartment. Often it is a round robin of three buildings doing this over the evening, but today, just the opposite tower. It is one of the more benign silly games, but this time they decided to up the annoyance ante by flickering the light for whatever reason, causing me to close the curtains. Some of last year's pictures will have some photos of this nonsense, but I am sure I will be getting another round this year.

No more pictures for a while as the recent camera load had been shown in the past week's postings.

And a round of escalation of the assholes putting on the fake touches; this is the sensation of being touched but nothing is there. This all began when making tea tonight, and kept up until after the dishes were done. A few doesn't get a respsonse, but they kept it up enough to have me yelling at them to stop. Sometimes that does work, though tonight they wanted a series of vocalizations. They have also been making the arm rashes sore, as they seemed to be on the mend after three days of no healing. I had some old prescription rash medication from a 2004 stunt they pulled, and went I went to get the jar, why, it had been tipped over, and the paste has run down the side of the jar. Now, when most of the impositions of fuckery revolve around having different juxtapositions and cardinality, it doesn't make it much of a stretch to find that the perps wanted me to use the rash creme and draw it along the length of the small container instead of from the top of it. Just another example of the goings on and the level of detail and planning that they go to in order to continue their nonconsensual human experimentation abuse. The cardinality and directionality of the plastic vessels that I use are my business alone, and I don't see why a covert party has any fucking right to be pissing around doing research on plastics and their human energetic interaction without my express permisssion. And of note, five whales beached themselves in the last week, one had plastics in its stomach, though this was not the cause of death.

And speaking of covert research, I see that my wallet stealing and researching friends are planning to change the color and design of the US $100 bill. Why, it is a blue purple color, not the traditional green, and that must mean the perps are needing to study US citizens with a different color or bill in their wallets. And the last most wallet theft in 2004 had both US and Canadian currency in it, and I reckon they wanted me to have just the latter so they could study it alone. And they didn't want me to have a wallet with exposure to US currency as it would still have some of the energies/ruboff of the green US bills and it would be too confusing for them to figure out. Right now I also have a new Rx from two days ago, and it is yellow in color, and I shouldn't have been too surprised to see a surfiet of yellow colored gangstalking vehicles after my doctor's appointment. The present wallet is a little smaller than the last one, and I am forced to fold the bills in the wallet, rather than the wallet folding the bills as it closed. Yet again, the contents of my wallet and the color of the bills, cards, and papers are of intense interest to the perps who continue to plant extra Fuckwit gangstalkers around me whenever I use the wallet, either for cashe purchases or debit card. As regular readers will know, I am also routined noise and gangstalked every time I make a financial transaction, so part of the checkout action is for the latter, and then once departing, they like to also figure out the color change, if I used bills.

And I see this town is making the news and having the FBI phone up as one of their most wanted fugitives might be resident here. It is a good town for books, but somehow I think this story isn't for this purpose, but whatever.

I suspect the perps like a decent bomb to go off, and the timing of the various wars and like events seems to fit with their harassment activities from my perspective. Apart from calling an explosion a "space time ripper", per J K Harms, I suspect there might be other reasons, as there rarely is just a single objective in any major perp initiatives. And here it might be, a damaging radio wave from exploding ordnance that interferes with brain energies. I don't suppose such a linkage would make for any significant theories as to what the perps are up to, but they often zap me with a coincident noise, and it seems they were also busy sponsoring zapping of hospital patients in Montreal in the 1950's. Food for thought.

That is all that is blogworthy today, not a whole lot, and being mostly confined except the one looney excursion to the LD store to be reminded that they just love me to make short once per day sorties for chocolate. And of course, have a Fuckwit in place just when and where I grab the MIlka bars and go on. Then another three doing their faux shopping nonsense, in deep study of the candy section. Give me a break.