Thursday, August 18, 2011

Compost Slinging

A male negro, seeming security personnel, was lollygagging in the doorway to the alternations shop, and gives me a stare for no reason while I was waiting for him to get himself out of the way. Like WTF; he was the twit to be standing in a doorway, and he then stares at me. Nothing like a missing apology to stoke my annoyance all the more.

Then a city bus ride to the First Feral Family house as I wanted my mother's vehicle to also pick up my paycheck at the farm I had been working at. And at the penultimate bus stop, why, a major leggy negro woman wearing high shorts stops in my path on the bus, making out that she is undecided about seating choices when there are ample avaiilble. She had a fellow negro woman wearing pants, and eventually they decided to sit 3' past me. No problem, just that I had to cross their path in short order as I was to get out at the next stop.

And sieving compost for some four hours; the third time to finish the pile (started from leaves in fall 2010, and the box, kitchen waste since spring 2011) with the usual neighborhood noise of of lawnmowers, chainsaws, overhead aircraft and hotrods and other loud mufflered vehicles that somehow find me in deep suburbia. The perps just love me to be slinging compost, as there is something elemental about it, and life itself, that interests them no end. Ms. C of the story got her master composter's certificate when I was hanging out with her 2000 to 2003, off and on. Though, it was in character and fitted in with her "earth mother" persona.

A city bus freakshow on the way back, eventually 25 or so on a Tuesday at 2000h, which is ridiculous number of passengers at that time of day and in that direction (reverse commute) There were two flushes of three talkative dudes with two young women in between, also talkative. Eventually, there were four others with me on the rear bench seat looking at their smart phone screens (LCD display). Another in front of me was a book reading dude, with another smart phone screen reading Fuckwit past him. So they had me covered in two orthogonal directions with LCD viewing gangstalkers, and an analog (book) reader on one of the directions. As mentioned in past blog postings, the medium that is being read by the adjacent gangstalker is as important as the content or the color of the display. It seems they needed to make some correlations between a book reader and LCD readers, and likely, comparing whatever else they also pump into LCD devices.

And a burqa act boarded the bus; black hooded and brown gowned, the color combination straight out of the perp color book. Thankfully this "thing" (as I term it) didn't sit within my purview, something the perps are prone to do, putting visually offensive Unfavoreds in unavoidable view.

Yesterday's early visit to downtown for lens cleaning solution, (and getting the opening hours wrong for the bookstore), was a "warm up" for today; passport office then bank ATM with a cell phoner just outside next to the window, 6' away. Then came the plastic bag rustling dude at the next ATM. The vagrant swarms were also out on the street, one needing to get in front of me, and then turn the corner ahead of me also toting his plastic bag, then to be faced with a running Asian woman coming at me.

And the baggy shorts on dudes, as well as their waddling walking; I just cannot get over this ridiculous get-up that is so unbecoming. Yes, this is a hikey-bikey town, but baggy shorts doesn't fit.

All this at 0830h and hordes of people out, almost like if there were stores open, which don't open until 1000h.

At the passport office the paint splattered dude (as in faux commerical painter), was doing the lounging/chatting act at the next passport offfice booth, adroitly dressed in the same color as my file folder in which I kept the passport documents. (Not to mention that the file folders, purchased in a box of 150 natual toned buff color (off-white), were somehow augmented with brown colored file folders. Funny how these things "happen".

And what is with the passport office; they ask me if I have any immediate travel plans and I tell them about a potential job offer in Nigeria and they don't say anything more. Only after completion of all the details and getting my reciept do I find out, upon asking, that the passport takes two to three weeks.

Back from a three hour skyclad toast in the sun, at a clothing optional lake. I hadn't been there since 2004, when the interest waned, even if I had a vehicle to get there until mid-2006. But somehow today, I got the motivation to go, even if it was taking a city bus and hiking in 25 minutes. One could suspect the perps are putting me through the same ropes as they did then, only it has taken them seven freaking years to re-test me on this facet of the life rape program. And way more dudes there, some 25 in all, and only four females at most. (Only 10 to 15 at most on weekdays back in 2004). For some reason the gender imbalance is substantially more now. But that might have been to aid them in placing at least six skinheaded males around me, and had others with their shaved testicles (like mine). The perps made sure I saw plenty of them anytime I looked around. And with the perps' light reflective games one could sense there was a theme here, one of tight skin pulled over round surfaces with some reflectivity added in. That is to say male skinheads, testicles and penis heads all got prominent billing anytime I looked around and had much the same light reflectance properties. But also, similar color properties; darker purple colored skinheads to emulate penis heads in color (and shape in part) it seemed. All too disgusting at times, so I looked away. Hopefully I will get a decent tan out of it, being there for three hours of prime suntan time, enough to fill out the lines of socks and shorts when getting at tan while standing at picking raspberries. It would seem the orientation of one's body, upright or horizontal, is also important to the perp's sunlight, skin color, vitamin D, and related immune system reactions they are so interested in. Ditto for stand up and horizontal tanning at the tanning salon.

motocycle driving sunbather dude took a whole five minutes of standing at the ladder to jump into the lake. Any excuxe for standing around.

And what is with the sudden increase of waddling males, very often in baggy shorts to below their knees? Even more of this today, though I suppose that summertime casual wear could be a viable excuse to look so ill-dressed. And too, a sudden eruption of shirtless males, even downtown for crissakes.

I got the negro gangstalker treatment once I got out of the park, and she was walking with a Caucasian blonde woman of the same age. So it would seem that they want me to get "negroed" after tanning outside.

And when walking in downtown; a "just stand-there" gangstalker; a male with his motorcycle helmet on on the sidewalk, no motorcycle evident.

Other headwear that seems to be a big part of the harassment is fedoras. Sure, they look campy on young girls, but for the rest of the fedora wearing population, apart from old men, they look absurd to me. And in the middle of the summer no less.

Off to the First Feral Family house to do some more gardening work. Likely the timing is important following yesterday's excessive sun tanning. No sunburn thankfully, and it is starting to turn brown from red, surely a high perp interest these skin color changes.

Back from toiling in the landscape of the FFF house. And it was more pruning again, first a bush and then the lavender, my mother starting the latter yesterday. The drain inspection service was there, and lo, if he couldn't get his snake/probe into the outlet section to the city, so... guess who has to dig a hole next to the foundation? The perps never lack for stunts to have me dig soil, or otherwise transport it.

The plant "pruning thing" never ends; use electric clippers, then shears to tidy up, and when switching from one to the other it becomes a big noisestalk event. As previously mentioned, the perps have an intense interest in the application of cutting tools; knives, shears, graters, pliers etc. And not forgetting agricultural applications of shearing soil at depth and running the soil through conveyors and having yours truly dig it over to pull out daffodil bulbs.

Yet again the background of increased neighborhood noise; low flying (500') aircraft, fixed wing and helicopter, hot rod muffler noise, and even some street works commotion on the adjacent street with dump trucks and maybe even paving activity.

City bus freakshow again; skinheaded males, one doing the "just stand there" rountine, now observed for the second time, where the Fuckwit stands immediately in front of their seat. In this case he had been sitting in it for half the trip (10 min.), then he gets up making like he was going to give up his seat, and only when I am at the exit do I notice that he didn't give up the seat, he just made it look that way at a busy passenger boarding moment and was standing all the time with the edge of the seat at the back of his legs. I have mentioned in the past that public transportation is nothing more than a mobile gangstalking platform.

And what is with the "offer-no-offer" games? One of my former berry picking colleagues offers me to go with her picking blueberries on both days of the coming weekend. I say sure, and then don't hear anything for three days. I enquire, and she later gets back to me saying there isn't enough picking for me to be taken on. This little scenario ended yesterday.

Then today, I get a telephone message from her asking me if I want to go out for a light snack. On the message she indicated she would call back before 1990h. It was about 1730h, and I phone back about 1800h and leave a message on her answering service. And I don't hear back from her at all. I get a plenty of these aborted offers, and it a total pain. Twice in two days is plenty from this source and hopefully the assholes will write her out of the script. This person has followed me through three employments, and was the foil to talk to me back when daffodil flower picking in February, when this horrendous looking negro would come into view. This "happened" three times in two weeks, so whoever this berry picking colleague is (in non-morph form), she seems to be an essential player, now for more than a year. . Though, she also seems to get name dropped; that is, others at the farm job would always ask about her even if they knew I wasn't very close, and didn't want to be. Time for some more interesting colleagues, especially female ones.

The Nigeria database job recruiter hasn't got back to me for four days now. I can be sure this was all about dropping African state names and invoking the negro inferences that the perps surely like to play up. There is no way the perps are going to have me earn 5x the going rate just to be placed in a negro-swamping situation.

Anyhow, enough of the loose ends, and time to post this one.

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