Reds and the Mexicans Arrive

Preamble; these are going to be weekly postings for the next few months as I the farm work is taking up a lot of time. 

06-29-2011
Farm work continuing; the Mexicans arrived today, one was in the warehouse when I arrived, possibly as a "warm up" Mexican in keeping how the perps like to expose me to smaller versions of what comes next, aka, the incremental exposure methods they use so often, usually for Unfavoreds more than Favoreds.

After clocking in, always a gangstalker moment, and after I got dressed up in my dark green rainpaints with the yellow suspenders for the damp field conditons, they arrived in two vehicles, coming out one by one from the door, something like a staged show. There were seven in all, and I knew four from last year, so some hand shaking and/or hugs, not knowing anything about how Mexicans greet each other. One knew me from the Feb.-Mar. (2011) daffodil flower picking where they had 45 Mexicans, though I never did meet any of them individually. They too were doing their clustering around me then, or at least some of them, and of course, talking excitedly in Spanish, which I know little of. Now, with only seven Mexicans on this crew it is more personal, and maybe I will get some one-on-one time to learn a little Spanish. Last year, one day after I assembled my English-Spanish dictionary and my phrase book, and had some dialog with one who knew reasonable English, I got laid off from berry picking. This year, a week ago or so, with one Mexican worker, I again brought my dictionary and phrase book, and lo, within a day he was gone to attend to personal matters as there was a tragic traffic accident in the family back home. It is difficult to reconcile these apparent tragedies with the timing of my activities, and so I go with the most likely scenario. One, he has to be cooperating with the perps and their obsession over every last detail as to what I hear and what and who are around me and what they are wearing, so I consider it doubtful that they would go and fuck someone up who is aiding them, even if thery weren't fully informed as to the perps' long running interest in coincidence arrangement. And given that the "personal tragedy" was talked about at length for some days afterward, all I can say is that it fits the perps' pattern; arranging fake or real accidents and deaths among those who know me, or are related to those who know me.

And the red flashes much of the evening; either as flashbacks of strawberries or as a plain unfeatured red flash of plasma over top of something that isn't red colored. Often the red flashes are timed to a moment I am yelling at them for some kind of jerkaround/incursion, like pulling items from my grasp, sending me to the wrong drawer or cupboard, or any of the litany of mind-influencing abuses that are contrary to my established habits and practices.

I picked strawberries with all the crew until 1415h, and then we were sent to weed pumpkins. The Mexicans were sent to the patch under the powerline, and I and the four Punjabis were sent to another  pumpkin patch for the same reason, about a half mile away. One of the Punjabis needed to mention this to me for whatever reason, the seeming similarity of activity only a short distance away, and that we were all working together on the same things, only separated by a short distance. Go figure. But given his poor English, he was making a bigger effort to mention this than a native English speaker.

Of more interest, especially in light of the 9 years of onging games the perps devise over spreading soil here and there and in the hallway and on passing vehicles, is that the strawberries were on a grey-green (plus some clay) glacial till hillside, while the pumpkin patches in both cases were of fluffy black organic soils of the parent bottomland.

I had at least three supposed farmworker colleagues posted around me while changing out of my raingear in the warehouse, getting out of it after picking strawberries and before hoe-ing weeds. This is not too surprising given the extraordinary attention, (noise, light flashes) I get when changing clothes in my apartment, and the nonstop parade of gangstalker loonies changing out of their clothes in public, or even more perverse garment modifications. Fourteen years of 3x/week swim club practice and the clothes changing that goes on with it (and all the cooperating swim club members, over 30 on any given night), just wasn't enough for the sickos in their pre-overt/beserk days until they outed themselves and cranked up the abuseto its present depraved state in 2002.

And lots of clusterfuck and silly BS in switching from picking to hoe-ing; putting hoes in the van, then taking them out 10  min. later and putting them on a pallet, and then the Mexicans selected their hoes from this group. While other hoes remained in the van that I eventually travelled in to the pumpkin patch.


After a day of farm work, at 1730h on the inbound (suburbs to downtown, S. bound), I had 8 red dressed Fuckwits packed around me in the rear raised deck portion, with an absurd approximately 30 total "passengers" aka, gangstalkers. The red vehicles have also been coming in greater numbers and are more clustered in two's and three's than ever before, while waiting at the bus stop or when on the bus.

06-30-2011
Some new local farmworkers joined the strawberry picking today; of prominent note was a male negro in a red jacket. And too, a middle aged woman and her seeming adoptive daughter, who must be Fetal Alchohol Syndrome, a seeming native Indian.The daughter was especially prone to yell at her mother for the slightest thing, saying "I know" loudly or some other rebuke that was unwarranted.

And I was "negro-ed" with extra gangstalker coverage before I met the above mentioned negro farmworker. There were seven all told when outbound to the farm. The first one prone on the love seat in the lobby, making out that he was sleeping there, his head cantilevered off the end and over the floor. A female negro was was seated across the aisle on on the bus. The third "tag-teamed" (seated in the same seat once vacated) with a departing Caucasian seated in front of me, and only a single bus stop duration of overlap between the two. (Regular readers will recall the 2009 and 2010 events of city bus travel where there was a negro-negro tag teaming, all the more curious given their 3% demographic, and that they somehow knew to sit exactly where another negro had been). This negro made out that he was pals with the female, and made sure to place his fuzzy black head in my peripherial vision by leaning sideways often, but stayed seated in front of me. And four negroes on the street, this at 0730h or so, as it still seems the perp/sickos like me to see negroes directly, through various kinds of glass (tempered, safety, etc.)  or even translucent fabrics like polyproplene greenhouse cover.

When home bound on the city bus, a redcoated negro male emulating the color and garment type of today's redcoated negro stawberry picker was senselessly (and rudely) impeding all passengers getting off the bus; he could of sat down on the availble seats, but no, he had to stand in the doorway to constrict the exit room of the passengers wishing to disembark. There were three other negroes on the bus as well, so it would seem I was getting "negro-ed" yet again by this same demographic group the perps like to selectively place around me. Call it "negro exposure continuity", from apartment lobby to city bus, to the worksite, and back again.

I picked strawberries all day, and I shouldn't of been too surprised to see a profusion of red vehicles all over me tonight when out for tanning, there and back, a 5 minute walk from my apartment. There were red vehicles in threes (serially) and fives (crossing and multiple directions and convergences)

And more major FUD at work, seeming to be exploited with so little English spoken, and no Punjabi to Spanish translation going on. We were to work at picking strawbs until 1730h, then at 1650h we were called off to do hoe-ing weeds, and so were werer transported to the warehouse for hoes. The Mexicans went in the first van, and we locals (me and the Punjabis) were waiting for the second van trip to come back to the warehouse. The van comes back, but we get the word to that just the Mexicans get to go weeding and we get to go home. This was after 30 min. of clusterfucking, discussion and major disingenousness in conveying work crew getting directions from who knows where, but they all act together as if silently directed.

Also a "banana stalking" in effect; some free bananas arrive in packing box and dispersed among everyone, presumably from the Mexican fixer/handler who deals with the Mexican immigration issues and transports them to Western Union on paydays. I have long mentioned the perp's use of bananas for some kind of color referencing, from checkouts to banana eating on the street, to placement of peels at street corners and like perversities, so today was a whole crew banana benchmarking it would seem. I got to take some home, and I am sure that contributed to the extra coverage on the city bus when travelling home.

07-01-2011
A national holiday, comparable to July 04 in the USA, but the strawberries keep coming, and it ended up being a 11.5 hour work day, and then getting screwed for a seat on the city bus to get home. The buses were infrequent and packed with those headed downtown to see the fireworks in the evening and whatever other organized street revellry there was. So, I get to then walk home from Mckenzie and Quadra to downtown, which took an hour with my backpack on me and after a very long day of farmwork. And lo, the national flag colors of red and white were out in profusion among the throngs, and I wasn't too surprised to be covered by four red shirted dudes in some places, walking ahead until I passed them by.

I picked strawberries until about 1700h, and then helped the Mexicans pick potatoes. I noticed that a certain farm, call it CF for now, was next door to the potato rows, and this was the one that was advertising for farmworkers some two months ago, though I never heard from them. And this was at about 1830h or so, and lo, if a Mexican from CF farm doesn't "happen" to saunter out and putz around, and the Mexicans engage in conversation with him across the fence. Interesting that local farms advertise for farmworkers and don't respond to submitted applications (mine at least), and yet somehow hire Mexicans under a work visa program. Part of the local farmworker hiring fashion it would seem, and all the more odd they even bother to pretend to be interested in hiring locally.


07-02-2011
Picked strawbs to 1730h and came back. A flush of pink and red dressed babes at McKenzie and Quadra where I take the bus; four go W bound, and four go S bound, walking toward me and crossing paths on the crosswalk. And strawberry colored/dressed gangstalkers arranged around me on the bus when homebound again. Keeping that red color continuity going from the strawberry fields to the bus, and they won't let up in keeping red coloer coverage wherever they can.

07-03-2011
Picked strawbs to 1700h. Then was picked up by my perp abetting mother. The field Punjabi crew boss came to loiter around my mother's vehicle so to be there when she got out and I got into the driver's seat. It seems the perps needed to have my daytime boss be at this seat changing moment. As mentioned many times, the perps put no end of resources and attention to when egressing to/from vehicles of all kinds, and it seems they needed the daytime supervisor to be there at this critical juncture.

07-04-2011
A day off from picking strawberries, and again attending to deer fencing at my mother's house and garden in suburbia.This involved going into and under the hedge again to install a 4' section to cover what I thought was inpenetratable section. More pruning of branches to clear a path for the wire fence to be pulled through. This time, my mother was whisked away in advance by my ex to deal with the Post Office screwing her over and holding her mail. Kind of a stupid stunt, but it kept me downtown waiting in a vehicle two weeks ago, and the perps cannot get enough of that, especially given the truck loading stunts they arranged in front of me while seated in the vehicle.

And so while in the hedge, pruning branches etc. the next door neighbors had arrived back from six weeks away, so there was plenty of raucus goings on with children, grandpa and parents conversing inside and outside. The kids went into plastic playground playing and pummeling in front of me when I was talking to the grandfather about the state of the fence, the deer prevalence and where the fawn of the day before went. Whenever I come out from being under foliage is always a big perp event, and having me talk immediately following it seems to offer more perp fuckover opportunitiies. Later the ex arrives with her poodle and my mother, seeming to continue this post-foliage contact/coverage moment. On the simultaneous noise front, the perps went all out with a chipper truck working a two hundred feet away at most, along with associated chainsaws and the like. I presume this was a real tree maintenance event, and not just for the noise, as it seems the perps want to be able to remotely detect some kind of commonality between like events; me doing the hedge pruning (from inside of it) and the nearby tree cutting and chipping.

 A project that has been brewing for over a year also came to fruition; it was to take a cut-off grinder to vertical metal flanges on the patio that were hazardous to any that came by. For that, a low flying helicopter came by (less than 300'), much lower than normal, just before starting the job. It is always a big deal for these long planned projects, especially the games over having the wrong sized grinder arbor, then my brother "finding" a newer model, then the cut-off discs taken back because they were the wrong size. And somehow, my mother had her nap at the same time, not detered by the noise of cutting the 1/8" metal with the grinder. The timing of her selective naps at seeming perp critical moments haven't gone unnoticed.


Anyhow, much other "routine" gangstalking and games have gone down this past week, but I don't have the time for all the last details while farm work calls (sort of).