Monday, June 28, 2010

Contrail Day on the Farm

June 26, 2010, 2135h
A very long day, working until 1830h, and the bussing it home with the city bus freak show that got so out of hand with a native Indian nutcase throwing his arms around in a mock fight with no one, that I bailed early and spent an extra 15 minutes walking back. And lo, when I got out, if they didn't have a negro and an Cambodian pair of Fuckwits on display, right buddies they were too.

And it is likely that TI's and regular readers will know that the perps have an obsession over knees and knee coverings/clothing. This particular aspect is most apparent when I do farm laboring jobs, picking bulbs, fruit or tubers on or close to the ground. I normally use knee pads, and they work within the realm of being fucked with; slipping down, slipping laterally, and although adding comfort, are under constant manipulations. I leave the kneepads at the farm to dry out overnight, and I got screwed out of retrieving them when the Saturday and Sunday (June 27) bus schedules don't allow me to get to the farm by 0700h for regular work start time. So... as I was taking the walking trail to access the farm, why, the crew was there in view, picking strawberries. I hopped the fence, and reported for work, sans kneepads. The assholes wouldn't let me crouch for the first two hours, and had me bend over for the most part, sometimes straddling the row. Then the sore back games started up, and I suddenly became able to crouch, which is how I spent the rest of the day picking. I also got a spell of the demotivation feeling to retrieve the kneepads at lunch time, as I could of made it to the farm warehouse and back in time.

The next day, the same thing, except someone left the gate open for me. The no kneepads jerkarounds started up again, and finally, in the latter half of the day they let me kneel directly on top of the soft soil, no rocks thankfully. So it would seem that this was a big deal as they never have let me kneel directly on the soil while in these low-to-ground picking situations. I also noted they have cracked up the kneepad material, so another pair will be due in all likelihood as this insane escalation of expenses has continued this month.

Another feature of the work day was to fake me out and not tell me that there was extra work. At 1740h the supervisor came to collect us all, and the inference was that the work day was over. The supervisor gave me a bunch of carrots to take home, and when back at the warehouse I clocked out, and began looking for a plastic bag to put the carrots into to place in my backpack. And lo, if there wasn't a potatoe washing job ready to begin, and it seemed they needed me to be on the conveyor line to pick out stones, soil clods and other debris next to a Mexican worker. He was also one of the three that worked at last year's farm job, 08 to 11-2009. He doesn't speak much English, so I cannot say I know him well, but he is a good worker that aims to get along. Anyhow, an extra hour of unexpected work at the day's end, getting faked out by the oddity of no one telling me what the fuck was coming next.

Another event of the day was seeing a major contrails and maser sky arrangement, and it was also witnessed by one of my co-workers. The event had been promoted at lunch time when I noted an unusual crisscross cloud pattern in the sky and mentioned it to my only English speaking coworker. While picking strawberries an hour later, she in the next row, I mentioned two new parallel contrails, each with a 10 degree dogleg on the latter 20%, and remarked as to how unsual that would be in normal aviation practice. About ten minutes later, she mentions to me that there is a third contrail aircraft, and when I look up it is equi-spaced to create three parallel lines. And when we continue to look up, a black maser beam, the width of the aircraft, is projecting from the aircraft to the horizon. on the N. side of this deliniating beam the sky has been shaded a darker color, seemingly a massive maser wash meeting up with this beam. The look of it was that from the horizon to the aircraft there was a black beam, and from (or behind) the aircraft there was a white trail (like a beam, but gradually widening further behind it). We remarked on the fact that neither had a camera, and that if we ever saw it again, we still would be unlikely to have one. This black/white continous line in the sky, with the aircraft the point of color change stayed in place for a minute or so, and was a rare exception to the fleeting plasma and masers I see all the time and all around me. About five minutes later, an Bombardier passenger jet flies low, in a deep grey and navy blue livery. It is the first time I have seen this aircraft type here, and was most odd that it was so low, maybe 1,000 ft or less. Most of the Victoria International Airport traffic is small turboprop aircraft, and here was this smaller commercial jet. I am a minor expert on aircraft types and noise, as it seems that they manage to re-route the S. bound flights (harbor, or to Seattle) just over where I am working in the farm fields, this being the third one in two years.

And just when I thought I was done with picking strawberries for the entire day, and seeing a profusion of red colored vehicles in clusters and patterns, why, the assholes put flashes of red strawberries in my visual field for the evening. I never had any flashbacks from anything at any time of my life, and this bullshit starts up. Also of related interest, it was the first day they had me picking strawberries with my barehands, as they had me wear gloves before. Transparent nitrile gloves, then blue nitrile gloves (with many splitting incidents), and then finally bare handed strawberry picking was allowed. Ditto for the carrot harvesting that came later, as well as the sudden potato washing job at day's end.

-great linting sock problems continue, now it looks like a cross country/continent search for thick non wool (as in non linting) socks. This beggars belief, getting screwed over with a new pair that linted with much less wool in tonight's laundry. Maybe the whole deal of a separate sock laundering that has been going on for over a year is now over, and the assholes will let me launder socks with the rest of the laundry, but only if they are non-linting of course. This bullshit never ends.

-water line games over carrot washing in the field, plus I got some carrots given to me, likely for further nonsense as to eating them, versus picking them and the influence of the water supply pipes that irrigate them.

June 28, 2010, 1605h

My new Topre Realforce keyboard is at work here, and what a waste of $300. I was expecting some snappy and touch sensitive (resistant, then "breaks through") keys, and I get an elevated mushiness. Heresay for the keyboard afficianados, but this is the way it is. This is a capacitive resistance individual switch design, so one can read different EMF signature for each keystroke. I feel totally rooked, not to mention an extra $33 of taxes on this sucker when I picked it up. I thought I had dodged the Provincial Sales Tax (PST) before July 01, but they screwed me for it anyways.

A busy Monday for all the goings on a day off, starting with a stayover at the First Feral Family home last night, and then onto dealing with returned items to drive across town to the place I was at last week at the same time, and then backyard maintenance work. Then a doctor's appointment, where an Asian doctor also got pulled in to ask questions, he being a very pale Asian. I was in "on" mode today, highly verbal and with facile recall access, almost unknown to me before now.

More bullshit outside my door; yacking on the cell phone. This is after I put three loads of laundry through as the towels and wool socks make lint in copious amounts and must be separated from the rest of the laundry. I have yet to find thick wool-free socks and the local major outdoors store isn't helping any, keeping wool blends only. Another expense in the making, having dealt with self-punctured umbrellas (read, sabotage while it was on the shelf) and other bullshit this month.

This new Topre Realforce keyboard is on the fritz it seems, and the typo sabotage is also contributing to the harassment-scope. The perps have taken to making me send or take things back, and it just might be this is another in that succession of escalating combinations of items, geography and what it may contact, and be wrapped in. Two brown cardboard boxes for this new keyboard, so that might be the real perp interest in escalating the noise and harassment as I type on this. The only model I have come to use is that the "brown color energies" of the cardboard, and the wood pulp have been conveyed to this plastic keyboard, and the entire interaction of my fingers on it is also of intense interest. But as nearly all things are boxed in cardboard and paper, save for the plastic packaging, I was not too surprised to have a cardboard box bearing Fuckwit outside the parcel pick up location this afternoon. This is the parcel for which I did not get a delivery notice, and "somehow" I forgot to ask how that might of happened. And no less, she didn't ask for ID, which they always do, even with a parcel delivery notice in hand. All too strange, not to mention the 10 minute wait for only two supposed customers ahead of me, taking forever while the freakshow paraded by. The Canada Post livery is an orange red, so there were no end of freaks and Fuckwit passing through the line as well as lining up behind me, at least eight more, many in red colors, looking to be shopping for the most banal items, perusing them at length.

Some strikeouts on what I ordered online besides the above keyboard, and when I return to the website, why, there are some items that are more suited as to size and type. Which pisses me off; I either got mindfucked as to cognitively not noticing alternatives, or else the site got spoofed. The prices also seem spoofed compared to an article I read about this site, also confirming the better choice. The game now is, do I eat the $28 and not send it back, or go through the messing around and shipping back and the rest of it? Seems like perp heaven to me, either way; financially fucking the victim or having the item reside in the victim's residence and not have them use it, possibly giving it away. All those "energies" of each scenario are just too tantalizing for the sickos.

Two days ago, June 26, I had three separate incidents of Fuckwits in public doing the "come at me" for no seeming reason and then stop, or finally declare their intent, long after safety and personal space incursion threats were registered. I get about three of a week normally, but three in a day is exceptional. There was the two-time Saturday Fuckwit in black and a white wide brimmed hat and full white beard, my regular tail at the bus stop for the #6 0707h bus, N. bound. This time, he was standing at the intersection some 80' away, for absolutely no reason. Traffic control changes cycled one after the other, and this wacko was standing some 5' in from the curb, W. facing, and kept this up for nearly 10 minutes. A woman was waiting for the bus in his usual spot leaning against a wall, and when he arrived, he aligned himself with her, and me by extension as I was leaning against the same wall. Then she steps away from the wall so I was in direct line of sight with this Fuckwit posing for unknown reasons, and wanders around, leaving this bearded and big hatted Fuckwit to pose in view. Only a minute before the bus comes does he walk down the street to the bus stop, and comes directly at me, looking at me, and then when within 8' he stops and leans against the wall where the woman was leaning.

Onto the next Fuckwit, a wacko native Indian act, getting on the bus and then walking past seats he could of sat in all to sit directly in front of me, transversely. I was alarmed as to what the fucker was going to do, but he sat down in the closest transverse seat. I have had it with this bullshit, and wanted to get off and walk the rest of it, but the pull cord on the bell didn't work. And when the next stop came, why, the wacko looking woman with the steel cage wheeled hamper, a common gangstalking prop, was making moves to get off, so I defered and waited another stop. I got off after the red-haired woman crossed my path to do so, getting ahead of me, and lo, if there wasn't an negro and a deep brown Asian pair walking toward me. But that wasn't enough of the Unfavoreds.

The assholes then arranged a yellow shirted Fuckwit coming from behind a building with a cardboard box in hand to then get within "threat" range, and then the fucker finally declared his intention by asking me if I could unlock the adjacent gate to the alleyway to the garbage room (which one needs the key for as well, so what did he expect to accomplish?), and then stands way too close while I was unlocking the gate for him. And have I detailed enough incidents before as to the endless games that go on whenever I am about to enter or exit a building or lock or unlock a door? Fucking bizarre to say the least. Three personal space encroachments in one day, the native Indian score alone is two for recent month.

Anyhow, I should get this posted for now, as it is my day off, and I am usually too whacked after a day of farm labor.

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