Monday, July 19, 2010

Week Roundup

July 19, 2010

A busy week of farm work, with the addition of two native Indian berry pickers. The hyper dude with the pony tail, then ersatz shirt-as-turban got canned for not picking (too hyper, skipping all over the place), and at least two other pickers packed it in. Next year I hear, there will be 14 Mexicans hired instead of the current 8. Which likely means, no summertime locals, just the regulars who are all Punjabis. The Mexicans are often working 11 or 12 hours per day, getting plenty of hours in, and get to stay on longer while I and the other pickers get sent home around 1730h, a 10 hour day, plenty enough. The hype dude was arranged at least 10x/day for me to see his ridiculous pony tail, as the perps have a particular fetish in exposing me to male ponytails (cannot stand them). Then, the next day, the farm owner's son comes by with his latest babe to do a little play berry picking, and lo, if she didn't have a ponytail too.

And there would have been a posting last week, but the assholes blatantly deleted two pages of draft blog posting, detailing some of the daily inanities, especially around the negro and kiddie gangstalking. They just blew away the posting before my very eyes and then saved the file and all that I had typed was gone. No keystroke blunders or other faux causal events, just poof, gone by itself.

This is a Monday, the day I take off from farm work and to spend yesterday evening, and an overnight stayover at the First Feral Family house, usually being tested on new foods, new colors and new juxtapositions of materials, (e.g. caulk and caulk gun in the kitchen for three weeks now, when my mother has no idea how to use it and no one that I know left it there, and “happens” to be the very same GE caulk compound I applied extensively in my house 1994 to 1996).

The berry picking has transitioned to raspberries last week, a whole lot easier than strawberries, but invoking different techniques to find the berries, as so many lurk behind leaves, deep into the canes. Every day I take the bus home, why, a profusion of red vehicles comes on, in varying reds of course, and with the accompanying greyscale colored vehicles too. Plus, the shiftless male gangstalkers have taken on a propensity to dress in red, and even the daily morning negro is strutting in a red shirt sometimes, and making an effort to sit near me, as his purported pals seem to be ignoring him.

The Cambodian pickers are still continuing to “happen” to take the same bus as me each morning, and now also take my walking route from the bus stop to the farm. As in gangstalking me from the boarding bus stop, (they are already on board), to the farm work site. And now that they make us walk the extra five minutes to clock in each morning, the Cambodian dude packed a brown cardboard box with him for curious reasons, as he was walking the same route as I was. I have often remarked on the “cardboard box stalking”, a seeming portable color reference, and they have now taken this to new heights, having the “cardboard stalkers” pack cardboard along my walking route, in close proximity. Other cardboard games are to have the berry pickers sit on cardboard while having their break time, again in close proximity. This brown and cardboard fixation has gone so far in the past as to having cardboard furniture placed on city sidewalks at an interesection for no seeming purpose as regular readers might recall.

And an interview for a possible IT contract job this afternoon, a strange set of circumstances due to the interviewer making sure that she seemed particularly bored. An Asian woman in a pink top, so I shouldn't of been surprised to see a pink shirted dude with a coffee cup in hand doing the “loiter lollygagging” routine that I have come to know and loathe. Nor the Asian gangstalkers sitting in the lobby on my way out, or the Asian dude tailing me for three blocks on the way back. And it was very likely that my experience pre-dated the interviewer, going back my days of DEC VMS of 1986 to 1989. Somehow, I fitted the profile, being the only one with this particular experience, and so I will be pitched as a part time VMS systems administrator. Like, WTF; 20 year old experience, and being touted as a resource. I thought it was a joke at first when getting the original email, and then realized it might be another one of those perp games where they like me to be re-exposed to past activities, likely arranged back then. It is similar to the exposures they like me to see when viewing job postings; nearly every business within a block of where I live, (and see the store fronts), has advertised at least once. Part of the games of more needless exposures, albeit in differing contexts.

The downtown crush today was full of the ratty haired, tattoo-ed, the large gutted, and the otherwise Unfavored, though no faux army personnel today (so far). And swarms of seeming tourists as well, as this is one of the main economic drivers of this city. Naturally, they could be all for real, but the complexity of the blend of gangstalkers and tourists is more difficult to separate. Though, if you follow this blog, you will know that nothing in my visual proximity is left unmanaged, and that especially includes the mix of people/gangstalkers I see at every moment. Dumbshit stuff of having a dreadlocked negro sitting in a vehicle that is impeding the sidewalk, waiting for a parking spot that has no expectation to materialize, such as today, is nothing new. One new Unfavored twist was to have a female grabbing her crotch, twice even, in mid sidewalk. The perps like to mix male and female clothing, say, fedoras on babes, but to have females engage in blatant male behaviors in public is a new one.

Last night's once-per-week TV viewing was heavy on the mental health angle, even Hercule Poirot had a flakey client. Then more of the same on the CBC documentary, Prodigal Sons, and again more on the news. Like WTF; why am I getting such a heavy load of this topic when it has absolutely nothing to do with me?

Last night's 60 Minutes rerun on the end of the soap opera series, Guiding Light, had me emo-trashed again; tearing up for crissakes. Get this right; I have never heard of the show before as we don't get it in Canada, and don't have any empathies related to acting and the cast or casts in general, so why does some fucking asshole jerk me around as if I gave a shit? For the record, I never would have had any such reaction, and am totally pissed that someone plants emotional reactions on me that just don't make any fucking sense as to my own emotional make up. And furthermore, I am also pissed that the assholes didn't let me know that I was manipulated until after the fact. I could pick up these manipulations before, and now the fuckers won't let me, or worse yet, have changed me so I do. I don't know who I am any more.

And the boots, socks and insole games continued last week; I had a pair of unused insoles in the pair of safety toed boots that I bought in 09-2008 and have never work for work purposes, and bought three pairs of insoles in 2009, and put one pair in these unworn boots. The non-wool socks arrived and lo, if they weren't much thinner than the thick wool socks I had. So, in order to end the sloppy boots (which can be telekinetically manipulated), I put a second pair of insoles in them. This worked, and the first morning of setting out at 0610h for the bus, why, a 6'4” dude was outside the lobby on the W. side, visible through the ample glass, flapping his arms and wandering around. Like WTF; how is this weirdness always erupting around me, and he wasn't even a vagrant, just “hanging around”. The boot games will be continuing as I see that the assholes have created extra wear on the outside of the Vibram sole heels, and no visible wear anywhere else, so doubtless the boots will be taken in as soon as the six month long jerkaround of getting bootlaces for my spare pair is accomplished/allowed.

[2120h add in]
Some very strange dreams last night, planted IMHO. The dreams were about financial duress and not being able to access my bank accounts in two countries and all manner of workarounds to "deal" with the problem. For the record, I have never had such experiences when regularly visiting and working in two countries (1999 to 2002), nor do I have any such related issues now, so WTF. Why was this total bullshit planted on me and for what reason?

A two stop shopping trip to the LD store and the supermarket, the former being an Rx pickup, and a new generic manufacturer for one of my meds. No doubt this drives deep into the perp's agenda, as they are obsessed over the the source, manufacturer and packaging of everything I ingest, and so it would seem that a change in the generic Rx manufacturer is a huge deal, and advance on their continuing Fuckover show.

And then past the negroes (2 parties, the latter one circling the checkouts for no seeming reason while paying by debit card), then the parked motorcycles (2), the shiftess dude in red on the outside bench, the just-standing-there cell phoners (2), and the rest of the Unfavored freaks over some 100' to the local supermarket. And at 1835h the assholes had closed down the hot chicken counter, at least an hour early, and so no tortilla/quesadilla making tonight, and none for lunch tomorrow. Then the assholes had also cleaned out the organic cashews they had last week, serving as my coffee break time sustenance. Back to the overly sweet Pro-bars again for at least two days. And onto sardines for lunch tomorrow, hoping the mess, smell and other unpleasant side shows won't be parlayed into a big Fuckover scene in the middle of the berry patch when I take my lunch tomorrow. Never mind the accelerated burps the assholes always now deliver when I eat sardines.

I am going to call this one done for today, and maybe for the week should I be working extra hours.

[And I see in reviewing this posting in OO Writer, the assholes have stripped out a partial paragraph. This insane fucking bullshit never ends.]

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