Thursday, February 03, 2011

Basket Weaving & Sirens

It is going to be daffodil picking next week, starting Monday, so three more days of relative do-squat time,- I am reluctant to call it freedom, ever.

Today, I went to the in-town brother's place to feed his cat, per agreement over the past four weeks of his vacation it will be, come Saturday in two days. I spent an hour putzing about to get his front yard shrubs trimmed, and to no avail; I looked all over for his electric hedge trimmer and finally found it, and then for an extension cord, but after pissing around with two short ones, I couldn't get power to the clippers and had to abandon the exercise. Just more of the bullshit that goes on at the First Feral Family house, constant pissing with various lengths of extension cords, and often with odd connectrors so only particular ones in sequence, all discovered by trial-and-error. And of course, controlled "memory failure", as I don't forget this kind of bullshit, and somehow this had become the new norm. I think it is fair to charge him an hour for the putzing, as if he cannot get his extension cord act together then too fucking bad. When I owned a house, I had a heavy duty 75' cord and kept it organized and stored in one place, and never, ever, had this bullshit over finding them, and then getting the correct combinations in sequence. No wonder I somehow "lost" that extension cord, as the perps didn't want me to be organized, but instead, suffer the inane and persistent inefficiencies of the FFF quislings, who somehow seem to be so content to be so permanently inept.

And as part of the plant pruning I was doing, he has some very straight willows that a supple and very green colored, and so I put the supple stalks in a pile for use for weaving into a wicker table mat. Actually two of them is what I am going to make. And sure enough, when I started pruning, the sirens, the hammering and tapping noise, the aircraft noise (local, and STRATCOM), dog barking, door slamming and others started up, often timed to coincide the instant I was cutting the willow stalks and branches. And too, it wasn't the siren noise of current day emergency vehicles, but good old 1960's and earlier sirens, like in old movies of that time. I suppose I was exposed to a number of these siren noises, from gestation to maybe in the 1970's (15 years) when the police and emergency forces seemed to switch all over N. America. Perhaps there is a technology reason for this, as I was once told that the old sirens made noise from air passing over a spinning disc with holes in it, but need to consult the web on that. But it seems that this noise is important to the perps, and if they cannot arrange that, why, the seagull noises start up, even if there are none about.

And the basket/cover mat weaving I am about to do was not feasible until I got the frames re-wetted, and so to keep all the raw wicker shoots and frames wet, I put them in a filled bathtub at my in-town brother's place. (They return from four weeks in Thailand in three days time). I will go back tomorrow and attempt to get one cover mat woven, though I am not an expert on this kind of craftwork, and will likely use some wire to keep it all together, a little bit of a cheat for the real wickercraft folk. I just thought all those grass green supple and straight willow stems shouldn't go to waste. But as so many of the perp props do include basketry and wicker furniture, I am sure I am doing the perp's bidding, especially when soaking them in the bathtub, the mains water which will be much different than the water the plants took up in their cells. And if I hadn't mentioned it before, the properties of water, and where it has been, and what it has been in contact with are of intense perp interest.

And a total gangstalking gong show when I walked 10 minutes to the bus stop... The eight to fiftteen greyscale vehicles, mostly white and silver grey with the odd red one inserted were duly arranged, and even the infernal Esquimalt fire truck (red color in this municipality) "happened" to be out and turning the corner just after I crossed the street at the crosswalk. Another red vehicle launched into the crosswalk identically to a red one two days ago at the same corner, and so it was that trains of vehicles did the slow trawl, including some that were aimed at me when the vehicle came to stop at the yellow painted (no parking) curb adjacent to me. It doesn't matter about the bylaws and regulations for the perps, as they likely oversaw them in their formation in the first place, and they own this town I have come to realize, getting every biddy and body out there on the gangtalking parade, feeding at the trough.

 In my no-PC/internet time of the past near week, I resumed reading activity, getting into a fascinating book, Treason in the Blood, the story of father and son, the Philbys. The latter was the notorious Kim Philby, and I didn't know much about his father, St. John, a British explorer who ultimately became an advisor to the then Ibn Saud of what became Saudi Arabia. And it was he who lied to the British interests, and had a lead hand in the Saudi royal family of the 1940's to select the US interests (Chevron) to develop their nascent oilfields, to what became Aramco. His refutation was that the the British, of which he was one, was that they were too imperialistic. And look at where we are today. An excellent read if you follow spycraft, or more like, treachery and treasonous bastards, as if we TI's don't get enough of that.

But, the perps have long wanted me to keep up on espionage tales, and Treason in the Blood fills some huge gaps in 20th century history, though much of the espionage files are not released until 2025. I wonder if we will find out then even. I also learned that the UK and US spy efforts before, and after WWII often came to naught, and it seemed that invading forces had been tipped off. So... it seems that there were intense spying games going on and even the Manhattan Project was thought to be infiltrated back as far as 1941. And all along, when I read any history now, I think in parallel terms as to what the perps might have been doing, and did they arrange some of these events and accidents, and what do they get from it?

As I have said before, it just seems to me from the perspective of reading many espionage stories, that this whole business of espionage and counterintelligence and the rest of it is one big zero sum game. The successes of one country in one sphere seem to be countered by their adversaries in another. But it was mighty curious that the UK establishment closed down and didn't want to entertain Kim Philby as an enemy operative in 1951 when he was inadvertently exposed. And the book also raised questions at to his boss who promoted him to chief fox of the henhouse, revealing all the agents and operations against the Soviets, for whom he was covertly working for. And that Kim Philby's protoge of the then nascent CIA, James Angleton, who invited him to be the foriegn liasion officer to the CIA in 1948, also had some oddities in his background that just didn't fit with executing his duties professionally (e.g. many missing files). Anyhow, these intrigues have not yet been sorted out for all those gallant authors who undertake substantial research efforts, and idle speculation is rather pointless. But I will say, it seems that some very senior personnel in the US and UK were acting contrarily to the aims of their government, or at least, were less than forthcoming, and being a TI, I begin to wonder if there wasn't a Third Party (a play on the Third Man), that being the perps themselves (layers upon layers). Suffice to say, I got a huge education in the Cold War exploits and all the intrigues that it involved from Treason in the Blood, as well as the trail of human wreckage it left, especially in the Korean War when it seemed the US miltary plans were betrayed in detail. And so the sirens noise starts up as I finish up this topic.

Anyhow, I think I will call this one done for today, but it seems the perps have not finished with sometimes intense rage-fication abuses of late, and have even escalated me to the levels of the bad-old days of 2003 to 2006. It is that bad at times.

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