Double Chocolate Walkabout

Oct. 11, 2010, Thankgiving in Canada, not that I have much belief in these holidays anymore, the desultory outlook courtesy of my keepers.

I did compost digging work this morning, emptying the compost bin to get it prepared for adding it into a larger stack of layered garden waste. As always, the perps find it essential that I follow compost making activities with more orchestrated outings.

I had an offer from my former co-worker at the farm, the one that happened to show up at the farm I first worked at, and then again for the second one this past summer. I know these are all fucking set ups, but I either am not allowed to decline, or in this case, there was a little "bait" in the bullshit melange I wanted to sort out. The latter being that they laid six of us workers off on Sept. 30 and here they were advertising for four workers to start Oct. 04. So I had to find out what the story was from my co-worker who "managed" to stay on. (No one was hired). I assume she is replicating my work period/experiences on the same farm last year, where I managed to work from Aug. to the end of Nov. This year, they didn't want me there for that duration it seems, and they gave me four months work (like last year) starting earlier, in June this year.

So, a  coffee date, and it is on a  busy street, extra (almost stupid) busy, as it is Thanksgiving Monday, and what are these huge numbers of vehicles, ambulatory types and sidewalk cyclists doing out? Typically they would be at home or visiting and carving up the turkey. And lo, if no fucking tables were availible inside, so, it outside in the warmish weather with all the street traffic noise and the Fuckwit strolling or cycling by on the sidewalk behind my back.

I have tea, she has a smoothie drink and we each have the same deep brown chocolate flourless torte. So.. here were are talking outside for some 20 minutes before we finish up, and lo, if there wasn't two silver grey vehicles parking outside during this time, a Fuckwit granny in a red Gortex jacket being one of them. As I see it, we are getting "browned" with the same food substance, once on our respective plates, and then inside us. I foolishly thought it was done, but no, she wants to go for a walk in Cook St. Village, this faux trendy/buzzy locale a quarter mile away. We walk and talk and the red clothed ambulatory gangstalker does their thing nearby, often stopping in midsidewalk for no reason, changing their direction for a 180 degree turnaround, and the rest of the bullshit public behavior that goes down nowadays, especially when the color red is concerned. Now it becomes a walk-around with deep brown torte in each of us. Anyhow, all part of the red/brown show it seems, as the perps seem to be focussing on this combination for reasons that might related to those same colored substances in us.

Then the city bus freakshow was something else, getting back to the First Feral Family home. It is Thanksgiving, the bus is on the reduced Sunday schedule (one per 15 minutes), and here it was standing room only two blocks from downtown. I got to stand next to the two same light yellow colored (independently apparently) dressed Fuckwits, then a big hat dude was next (headwear is highly Unfavored, especially big brim hats), then next to him was another strange/funky purple tophat act, which strangely came off when I "happened" to look away. Then more passengers came on and lo, if were weren't doing the same bullshit as last Christmas. Keeping me standing for the firt half of the trip, moving in the crush slowly down the aisle, then a few minutes on the upper raised portion at the rear, and then down to the low floor portion, and finally snagging a seat opposite the rear doors that then began to open for passengers that weren't there to get off, exiting at the front where they aren't supposed to. At least 50 on the bus, and on a Thanksgiving afternoon (which is a holiday and not the shopping melee it is in the US), and I say this is total orchestrated bullshit given my past experience in this town. There was a strong Asian contingent on the bus, and lo, if the red and black shirted Fuckwit with the bright yellow faux urban backpack wasn't attempting to get way too close way too often. And you all know how I now (thanks to perp alteration of my color predilections and preferences, also mixed up with the Favored and Unfavored) absolutely loathe the sight of yellow and red together, and here was this Fuckwit attempting to shove this very color combination in my direction. And the infernal Asians wouldn't move to the back, creating yet more cluster fuck games as to who was moving and wasn't as yet more unlikely bus passengers/gangstalkers had to find standing room.

Oct. 12, 2010
2155h
A busy day doing toil for the perps' favorite Herculean tasks, this trimming two hedges at the First Feral Family home, a laurel out front for all the hot rodding vehicles to swich by on the bend, and then in the backyard for the helicopters, neighbor vacuum sucking noise/activity to "join me". I rented a gasoline powered hedge trimmer as my mother doesn't have an adequate tool for the job, so this engendered an extra trip in the morning at 0800h, and almost without saying, a huge vehicular gangstalking contingent in the suburbia of Gordon Head. The helicopter came to add in similar sounds to that of the hedge trimmer, a Hiller 12E or the black Robinson R22 that hounded me at the farm I was working at until Sept. 30. Or, they could of chosen another make/model, as they do like me to be dead wrong, and it never got close enough for a positive identification.

And plenty of smell of burned mixed gasoline (has oil in it) while doing the hedge trimming, and now they are pumping me with low level sensations of this same smell all evening long, even if I have changed and showered since I got back.

Other perp games related their agenda objectives was placing the laurel hedge trimmings into plastic bags, as they seem to have every bum and everyone else flicking or flailing plastic bags in my proximity. Working as a cleaner with many plastic bagging tasks for 8 months last year just wasn't enough plastic bag games for the assholes who must adhere to the bizarre practice of doing their realtime research by remote means. The perps claim that plastics are ubiquitous pollutants and that they have very different properties at the quantum level than at the cellular level and that this presents a serious impediment to their research on me in realtime. Not my problem, so why in the fuck am I involved in this when I didn't volunteer or make any agreement with anyone. That they allowed this to happen on their watch, now all 56 years worth, earns me no reprieve from this ongoing insane abusive depravity of their nonconsensual human mind-control research, among other objectives.

I will be heading out Oct. 14, so there won't be many postings for the next week, this being the fourth successive fall driving venture, taking my mother on a driving trip to Kamloops to meet my out-of-town brother and family, and then doing the prerequisite wine tours, as this has been the pattern. I cannot complain; I made wine for over 20 years, and still have a strong interest in it, although I cannot afford it much on this disability (har, har) income they set me up with. The perps have a big wine agenda, and I don't know what it is beyond their provenance research, where the grapes are from, and what energetic properties the grapes/wine might confer near where the grapes were grown, versus another location (say, a wine merchant), and all the rest of the handling of the grapes (plastic, plywood or other bins, the crushing and pressing equipment and hose materials), the fermentation vessel materials (oak, and where from, stainless steel), bottling equipment and vessel and if the wine was boxed of course, given their insane focus on all things brown, especially cardboard. (Unrelated, they even had a vagrant tearing up cardboard downtown last week when out with my mother).

All today's hedge trimmings, accumulated organic debris from the last two monthe (pine needles, pulled tomato plants etc. were to be combined into a single big compost pile, layered, moistened and with composting accelerant added to it, but lo, if I didn't run out of time in the early afternoon, and so the piles will sit separately for a week or so until I get to combine them into one compost pile. Yet again, the perps have a long standing need for me to making compost, and in true protraction fashion, they  have all the separate ingredients sitting out for a week or two until I get to it on my return. The thought-to-be girlfriend of 2000 to 2003 did her "Master Composter" training at evening courses, though it fitted with her "earth mother" persona. Little did I know this subject is front and center of the perp objectives inanity, and that I would be building compost piles three years running as part of the entire panopoly of their insanity. That, and daffodil bulb picking and weeding and other agricultural and horticultural activities/jobs.

After hedge trimming I had lunch, and then went outside to then clean up al the trimmed foliage, and lo, if three neighbors didn't have their lawnmowers or other gasoline powered equipment running, in effect, emulating the noise and many of the other characteristics of cutting foliage, running noisy small gasoline engines and the like. And on the way back to the rental outfit to return the hedge trimmer and mixed gasoline, (and afterward), at least a half dozen or more landscaping outfits towing their cut foliage in trailers and pickups, along with their gasoline powered equipment on show as well. And they wouldn't let me get off at my apartment, but instead I walked for some 15 minutes back through residentail areas, replete with just-trimmed hedges and the like. This "happening" as my mother needed to go to the dentist, and although a short visit, we were 25 minutes early, and I decided to walk from there.

And I stop at the LD store on the way back, now 1400h in the afternoon, and a total gangstalker scene there, and the assholes skunked me on Milka chocolate again, not having any for over a week now, and at least 8 of them in the chocolate section alone (to be there when I realized I got skunked again), and an asshole at the one other aisle location I needed to make, doing the crouch for the bottom most display shelf (as in exposing her stretched spine, a common sicko posture). Then the checkout was almost-obstruction, as I was ready to ditch the basket and walk out of there, but a new checkout opened up. Last week LD was the first almost no-gangstalking scene in over four years one evening, and today they put on a triple shift of fucking weirds and shiftless males, all seeming with no day job.

It might have been that the assholes have cranked up the irradiations today. My ears are ringing big time, and if I look at anything it is pulsating and vibrating in the characteristic way that everythign now does if I I focus for a second or two. But now I don't need to do that, the pulsating look to everything is immediately evident. And the backyard cedar hedge that I trimmed before lunch today was very obviously vibrating as I looked through the glass windows in the dining room. The perps are on a totally escalated sick binge, and I suspect it will be that way for  the next few years.

A brief evening shopping trip tonight, and again, more weirds on me at the lobby, loitering dudes and the street strutters, (walking along outside of the parked vehicles on the street, parallel to the sidewalk). Then they gangstalked me with a double negro pair after I passed the disgusting looking skinheaded Caucasian male. I went the baskets and was about to head E. to and lo, if there wasn't a do-rag head gear (like a tight white stocking) male negro lining me to to stare at. So, I take the S. route, turn the corner to go E. and lo, if there wasn't the skinny emancipated negro male stalker I see on the bus when commuting to the farm. The fucker hangs his hat in Central Saanich 10.5km away, where he consistently gets on or off the bus, and here he is in my face, staring at me too. Then onto shopping in an nearby aisle, and when done, the fucker was reprising again. Then onto elsewhere in the store, and I get the shiftless male dudes on my tail and everywhere I needed to go. The finale was the E. Indian Peter Sellers (The Party) type on my ass getting too close at the checkout, the debit card password peep attempt bullshit. The debit card "failed" three times before the cashier got it "working" by rubbing the magnetic strip on her sweater, and I was out of the supermarket, only to meet up with yet more of the in-store gangstalkers loitering in the parking lot. That they had five grey-scale vehicles parked outside and one last red one didn't go unnoticed, but this bullshit is getting to be the norm as they ramp up the red color exposures.

And to complete on the red theme of late, and with that awful red toxic sludge spill in Hungary this past week, one has a sense the perps are heavy on this color for many reasons, and likely for more than this abuse victim (me). So a few pics fromt the bus stop, with an added red-headed faux (IMHO) who jaywalked/staggered across the street toward the bus stop, and just when the bus is coming, why, she is doing her drunken walk act just where there bus is to pull up. All to get more red (hair in this case) over top of where the bus passes, with me on board.

Anyhow, count the red vehicles in the above pic; I get seven.

And what is with the fucking post office" For the third time in a year they attempt a delivery when I am absent ("normal") but they don't leave a notice (abnormal). I "happen" to check the tracking number, and lo, there it is, a delivery attempt. UPS pulled a similar stunt once with the aid of the supposed manager who intercepted my parcel and then didn't tell me about it for a week.

And that will be it for a week or so, leaving Oct. 13 for a First Feral Family road show