Tuesday, April 27, 2010

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.

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