Thursday, May 27, 2010

Talking Noise

A burst of talking outside my door, and hear through my earmuffs even. Then a sudden thumping on the 12" thick concrete floor/ceiling above simultaneously. Obviously, reading about the Miracle Minteral Supplement, (MMS) is hot stuff. And if it works as advertised, expect the cancer treatment industry to collapse. I doubt if that would happen, as I read (here) that cancer is caused by the action of a pleomorphic viral/bacterial agent, morphing between the two states. And no research is allowed into that theory, and the high resolution Rife microscopes of the 1930's which made that determination were destroyed by the FDA. Truly a virulent organization.

I should be getting off this medical "tour" the perps have arranged (per minduck script), as I don't have any condition that could be aided by such a treatment. They look after all my conditions, and it seems they are finally allowing the skin rashes they invoked to disappear, though not completely yet. They got great mileage out of making me look at their mottled skin games on my arms, and they even enhanced with a plasma or maser field coming off the dark red spots.

A yoga class today, now with four other classmates, up from two last week. Thankfully the grotesque negro woman wasn't there, and I suspect they haven't finished messing me with this Unfavored demographic group yet. I had the usual freak/vagrant/other Fuckwit gangstalker gauntlet to run in both directions. And the shiftless males, loitering at each intersection and doing nothing else save sucking on cigarettes. Most strange they plant these extra obvious Fuckwits, like some kind of tour of the prototypical operative.

The gangstalker gauntlet in going both directions to/from yoga was in place; the every morphing freakshow of the Unfavored. The most ridiculous act was the three amigos sitting outside the back door of a resturaunt as if they were staff at 1240h. Fucking absurd, the putative kitchen staff taking a break at lunch time. Then they added another white pants act within the minute, this time an ambulatory act on the other side of the crosswalk. And do I ever loathe white clinical garb these days, or at least, that is how I am being managed now. And how did such an aversion to this kind of clothing ever come about? I suspect it is from those two years in Montreal they deleted my memories, 1956 to 1959, as they know much more about it than I do.

There was a mention of Montreal at yoga today, as one person had lived there, though not born there. Two of the class can speak french, or French Canadian perhaps, which they sometimes do. That the perps like to plant foreign language speaking gangstalkers around me isn't new, Then some jokes around the term "hospital", though I never find the topic funny, especially after getting fucked by the assholes in being kept there by a doctor who later recanted the entire rationale. I have a baseball bat for every Fucker who had anything to do with that criminal event, and won't settle for anything less than applying justice with them. And a burst of clunking erupted and somehow got through my earmuffs as I was typing the above, always a topic to get me riled up, finding out firsthand that the Soviet abuses of hospitals was also applied in a supposed free country. I am not the only TI with this experience in this province with this bullshit, but I better be the last.

Dinner done; the usual tortilla/quesadilla slice and a kiwi fruit. More outside vehicle noise to "join me" for eating the kiwi fruit, that multi-green inside a brown skin, truly a color combination for the Fuckwit's research.

The assholes cranked me into a stinking rage show at breakfast when making peanut butter and jam on toast. Another color combination they cannot give up testing me on. They pulled the same bullshit when I was using coconut butter instead for the prior two months. Don't ask me what that emulates, but red (jam) and white (coconut butter) are common color combinations the assholes like to put me through. Hence the plethora of vehicles backing up in mid-street in my proximity (red breake lights and white backup lights).

And I have been twice fucked in two modes after cutting my fingernails this morning. They make sure that I fumble more often when picking things up for the two days after cutting my nails when it has never made a difference before, and they have also added sensitivity pain to my right index finger as if it was cut too close to the quick, which it wasn't. They did this the last time I cut my fingernails, adding pain to the R. index finger, which wasn't cut too short either, and then had it run for some three days to make sure it gets jabbed and shoots pain, and then follow with having me grasp objects slightly differently to "avoid" this pain they have planted on me. And that is an example of how fucking anal retentive they are, not to mention diabolically obsessive, now creating a new pain mode to follow fingernail cutting. I am exceedingly meticulous as to what length I cut my fingernails, and I even added an extra half millimeter of nail length today, and lo, if the same bullshit "problem"/excuse didn't erupt.

A serious round of overhead pounding has started up, recalling that it is carpeted and 12" thick concrete above me. How they do that I don't know, but I also got a zapping at the same moment and have I mentioned how much I like to be zapped?  I totally loathe getting zapped, and will take the proverbial bat the head of any asshole who has done this to me. Last night it was the same deal; clunkings and zapping as I lay down and tried to get to sleep. The assholes kept me awake for at least 40 minutes before they let me sleep.

A short trip to the supermarket to get some more milk as the one carton I have, prematurely soured again, four days before the best-before date. The sickos seem to be working hard on alternating the best-before date on a sticker on the carton top with red text, or as a stamped impression that looks browned or burned into the carton's top seal. This premature milk souring bullshit has gone on every week for a month now, and I am getting pissed that it is costing me money, and that my shopping gets reconfigured around getting a new supply. These cartons are half the size of the previous 2 liter ones, which often prematurely soured though closer to the best-before date, and the problem has suddenly got worse.

And a freakshow it was; the dudes in black pants and white shirts with ties were coursing about when I entered but not doing anything that looked productive, then a fat fucker was all over the candies display in the first aisle, almost draped over it. They had an advance gangstalker to lead ahead of me for going to the chocolate display, then left me alone for the jam and the tapenade, and just when I was coming to the first aisle end to turn, they had one loafing gangstalker at the deli display, and then a tall E. Inidan/Asian male came out to sort of gaze and look stupid. As I came to the end of the aisle to make my turn, a brown skinned E. Indian woman in a hideous red head scarf with silver threads in it was cutting the corner to purposely get in my way and obstruct me. I couldn't believe it, we are now back to hiding the insane Fuckwit freaks behind corners and having them suddenly pop out into my personal space. Been there, done that in 2003 for five months straight. Go fuck yourselves and tell me in person why I am getting this insane parade of freaks/Unfavoreds.

On the heels of that freak, I grab the cheese to get the fuck out of there, and lo, if another hideous fucker in dreadlock hair and wearing shorts (male) wasn't about to blunder into me. Then out of there to the milk section and then a putative staff member in black and white was flashing by as the rear produce section doors were proximate. Then I grab the kiwis and proceed to the checkout and one was devoid of a cashier, and the other had the fat freak. Onto the next cashier at the other end of the building, and lo, if the two dudes in black and white didn't materialize from an aisle each, timed identically. Then onto a checkout where two women converged in the same shopping trip, and one went off, came back, and then picked up a magazine to look at and kept looking at it while the other one did all the unloading work, their stuff moved along the conveyor, I moved in and just when all my stuff was on the belt, the magazine reading woman "happened to make a 180 degree trip behind my back to put the magazine back. I fucking hate, as in totally loathe, fuckers creeping or otherwise circulating behind my back, and this fucking bullshit keeps going on in public. This is insane abusive torture, to re-enact the very (likely) traumatization associations the fucker seemed to have created some time ago. Just leave me the fuck alone. What could be simpler than that?

Then more freaks hounding my ass on the way into the building to make sure I was covered; this was an Asian who had just exited a red vehicle at the curb for whatever reason (we have downstairs parking), and was on my ass going into the building and then again in the elevator.

And somehow I got screwed out of writing up the earlier freakshow when headed to yoga and back. I have never encounted a city where so many "people" (aka gangstalkers) got in my way and made no bones about it.

Enough excitement tonight, and onto what will likely be a dog day tomorrow.


Anonymous said...

Looks like your previous blog entry disappeared. Odd, since it was there 1 day ago.

AJH said...

Answer to: Looks like your...

The Dysthymic Doldrums posting, was in and out of editing as I composed it. Not my plan, as I "found" it posted when I hadn't planned to, but these things "happen". And two extra days' worth have been tacked on as well.