Mexican Legals

This will be my weekly format now that I am working full time and long days, not to mention the physical rigors of farm work; stooping, bending, etc. in the hot sun.

June 19, 1844h
The farm started eight Mexican legal farmworkers today, two of whom I know from last year's farmwork, different farm though. So the great continuation game begins, as I worked with Mexicans in two farms last year, and now again. Whatever the perps are looking for has yet to be understood, but rest assured it has something to do with brown colors and brown skin, and not to mention red, especially after picking strawberries all day.

And the vehicular gangstalking is also heavy on red vehicles again, often putting two together in file no less, plus a few more mobile ones passing by.

June 21, 2010
A heavy Monday, having a stayover at the First Feral Family home last night, and then setting off with my mother to do errands, then lunch out, then more errands after lunch, and then back to her place, then to the bus stop to join the city bus freakshow. This time they put on a blind person with a seeing eye dog, a light brown labrador, sitting in the next seat. But the blind fucker knew what to do, and that was to pop chocolates into their mouth, as I "happened" to have a swack of chocolate in my pack from my daughter, Father's Day and all that bullshit. Last year I didn't hear a thing from her, and this year I get the honor of a card, gift (chocolate) and a visitation.

Monday is my day off from hard farm labor, and a whole 10 hours of picking strawberries is very hard. Even if one uses knee pads and walks on one's knees instead of the crouching and back bending, "somehow" the knees still get sore and uncomfortable.

And knees are a big deal for the perps, being the source of a chi energy, and the perps have long made this known with the knee brace wearing Fuckwit gangstalkers that abound in my midst. I have been doing the farm labor thing for three years now, and the first year I used a green foam pad to put my knees on when bulb picking, and last year it was the one-strap knee pads which somehow caught and flapped about. And the third variant has been rendered uncomfortable, through no physical change to the pads, and I see they are begining to crack up.

The kneepad games went for a new round or chicanery today; the first store didn't have any, the second store would have but somehow I "forgot", and after negotiating the downtown detour with two major N-S arteries blocked by a supposed emergency, and then getting fucked in missing the street I needed to find, I get to the safety supply store and all they had was a pair of inadequate knee pads that would of got shredded within a week of strawberry picking. I didn't quite believe the store assistant when he said that is all that they had. I sense the perps like me to sense lies, as it seems there is some essential psychic difference between truth and deceit they are attempting to determine in the course of life raping me and all other TI's on the front line of this insane litany of abuse. It is interesting to note that my mother stayed in the vehicle parked behind the building for this errand, so it is very likely the perps can detect the psychic difference in me detecting truth or lies, but they wanted to to be able to do this from a further distance. Just my speculation of course, but there have been a number of other recent minor clues that they are able to detect some psychic energetics attached to human endeavors/actions/thoughts, but that isn't good enough, they want to be able to fuck the victim from further away. All that slowed down driving, extra distance and the white and yellow fire department vehicles and flashing emergency lights was likely the "warm up" event for getting fucked over the intention of wanting kneepads and getting detered by some Fuckwit abettor who didn't mind besmirching his business to look stupid over inadequate merchandise. There are hundreds of kneepad designs, and some pairs cost over $200, and all this safety store had was some cheap garbage. And of late, the assholes have been planting the notion of purchasing batcatcher's shin pads and cutting them down to size, surely a fool's errand. I would never of thought of this, so these "outside the box" notions must surely be coming in from elsewhere, especially when they border on the obsessive or absurd.

The above mentioned emergency vehicles, four firetrucks and at least two pickups, all in the Victoria Fire Department livery of yellow and white "happened" to be on their emergency run while my mother and I were dining at a local restaraunt. I cannot count the number of times they send their vehicles out to emergencies, and that includes sending one of their kind into the local supermarket, proximate to me in the lineup at the checkout, and then get called out back to the waiting firetruck parked outside, "happening" to find three parking stalls to pull into. How convenient when sending the fire Fuckwits to do grocery shopping in their large firetruck. I assume that stunt was all about the yellow and white colors of the truck, and that the Fuckwit was also still emanating these after getting out, doing his grocery shopping, and the fire truck visible outside. The running off (or plain street running) act has been seen countless times before, so nothing new there.

Later; the reason for the downtown shutdown was a gas leak apparently, the news item here.

There is a long list of perp activity of the past week I could list, should my recall be permitted to be accessed.

The assholes nearly sent me to the floor of the bus by braking hard, dithering my balance, while I had two bags in hand. This was prior to getting off, and lo, if the passengers around me didn't do their "oohs" and "ahhs" and someone even touched me in the process, or at least, that is how it felt. Funny how so many ready passengers there were, and someone even asked if I was allright. The assholes even had me grab the rail at a T junction, managing to force the palm of my hand onto the roubher surface of the screwhead in the T join fitting. I hissed a "yes", and then had to wait out the traffic light next to the dayglo construction worker dude on his cell phone next to the rear exit. No one followed me off, unlike the bus route I get to return from work, when there is at least one person who tails me off and for the next city block. I haven't seen a construction worker on a city bus for decades, and now in the past three years or so, they start "showing up". This Fuckwit even had his hardhat on for crissakes.


Its 2100h, which is close to bedtime for someone who is getting up at 0430h for a 0625h bus in the morning. Onto more farming endeavors and all the feints that go with it, along with the relentless urgency for my supposed co-workers to walk on the very ground that I walk on, or walk over immediately in front or behind me, or otherwise seed FUD to accomplish the same. Another continuing trait is to slow or speed up their berry picking so their ass is projected toward me, 24" or less. I get ahead and then catch up all to repeat this disgusting repose for the sickos. I cannot count the number of bend-overs I have had in the past eight years of gangstalking, but this mode of gangstalking is fucking sick, and I am fucking fed up of viewing these large asses in my view.

Blogging off for the week, as it seems that this weekly format is all I have time for these days, being rendered so "fatigued" by the sickos when I should be in reasonably good shape.