Sunday, December 30, 2012

Feral Family Visitations

Back from a trip to Kamloops for Christmas, such that I regard these events, as from this perspective they seem to fit perp purposes of new juxtapositions of objects (e.g. trees, holly in the house), and of course, all the packaging in its myriad of colors and materials.

I drove my perp-abetting mother's Ford Escape with the new snow tires, certainly a big perp event given their games over tires, rotational objects, and the very ground I stand or drive over. They organized some drivers to pass, then slow down, and then speed up when I passed them. One vehicle/driver did this four times in 15 minutes, ahead of a long sweeping 90 degree arc into Kamloops. For the most part, the perps cooperated on the weather as I climbed the mountain pass, so no undue manipulations there thankfully.

But it was an all in the family gangstalking, plus a friend of my bother came to stay for two days. He of the boarding house reach, just about planting his armpit onto my Christmas dinner, the fucking asshole. Why I didn't jab the fucker with my fork and do a "sorry" is a tribute to mindfucking. He knew he was going to get away with it in advance.

What was interesting to know was that one of them would tail me down the stairs each night I went to bed. Then in the evening when I was headed downstairs, before bedtime, the 7 yt.o niece was tailing me. I look back, and I get this guilty stupid face and then I got it; the freaking kid is on gangstalking duty now. Some Christmas, everyone in the family plus one, gangstalking me. My brother was in on getting way too close, doing mysterious "stand there" stunts and moving his feet toward mine under the table. The perps had me busy doing audio digitizing on a laptop while there. Then they fucked me in attempting to write the files to a DVD disc, something they  have done at least 40x before in the last ten years of this insane abuse. Somehow, I didn't remember that in advance, and so the files just sit there, of no use to me. The notion of bypassing this fuckery by getting a USB stick somehow didn't "happen" until today, two days after the fact.

As part of the play games there, the WII Fitness measured me at 96kg, some 10kg more than last year when I visited them. And so it would seem that the perps put 22lb onto me over the last year and no one has mentioned a thing. I started farm work earlier this year, in April, and worked outside on farm/viticulture until early November. More physical work activity this year than any other since this insane abuse began in 04-2002, and "somehow" I got puffed up for an extra 22lb. Lucky me, as I was 190lb before, already 15lb overweight to begin with. But as obesity is nearly an North American epidemic, it strikes me that this would be yet another perp movement to study the population large, so to speak.

And for the record, the perps won't let me get in shape; any running or treadmill activity is met with a sudden wall of feeling tired after a few minutes, to to the point of not being able to continue. I never experienced this level of exhaustion in my whole life prior to the perps outing themselves as the master of all my activities and thoughts.

Other bullshit over the First Feral Family get together was an increase in dumbshitting me; playing extra dumb for whatever reason, if nothing else, to annoy me. Why is every one going stupid on me? All to set me up to have someone tell me that I am smart if past history repeats, as it surely will.

A stay-in day mostly; just when I was set to do backyard work, why, the rain started up. Funny how that happens.

Other low-lights from the FFF abetting; my perp abetting mother brings along a 2 liter insulated jug of tap water for the drive from Victoria to Kamloops, (5 hour drive, plus a 1.5 hour ferryh ride). And lo, if the only thing she takes from the vehicle to my brother's house is that same jug, as I did all the other unpacking, she of apparent limited arthritic ability. And she dumps the water down their kitchen sink; we hadn't drunk from it, or used it any way. I never buy her dithering dipshit act, as this kind of perp abetting testing of transported water is straight of the perp testing regimen.

On the second day of the parked and mostly emptied vehicle, my perp-abetting mother goes on about her sweater being in the vehicle and some other items. It is true that I left them in the vehicle, but I didn't see a compelling need for them. But I didn't quite get how she knew those items were in the vehicle in the first place as she hadn't a need for them. Normally, this might of begun as "have you seen my xxx sweater somewhere, as I had it out when in the vehicle". Then I could understand how she came to miss it, and then ask for it. All these little tells to go along with the faux coughing games.

And too, the hot water supply downstairs where we were staying went on the fritz. No shower for the last two days, and the last one with no shaving at all. Straight out of the perp harassment play book.

My perp-abetting mother has cranked up the hindering games now; this unerring knack of being exactly where I want to go, or was, is getting so tired. Not bad for the chronic ditz act.

A full-on freakshow at the grocery store; not too mention the stocking/stalking carts being in each aisle I went to. Then an obstruction stunt at the checkout with my mother doing the extra protracted dither-about stunt after paying. Clearly, the perps are still onto something as to what financial transactions are.

Then leaf raking in the afternoon, the rain coming on just before getting outside and continuing all the time.

Then to visit my in-town brother for dinner, he of the perennial orange colored food; carrots and yams, and the same vegetables each time we visit. His sort-of girlfriend was there for dinner and then retired afterward, doing her incessant TV watching and whatever service for the perps as a brown skinned person of Thai origin.

I got moderate coverage after fueling up my perp-abetting mother's Ford Escape, including one LH drive vehicle circling all the pumps before stopping to fuel up. Why LH drive vehicles are allowed here, or anywhere in North America for that matter, without conversion to RH drive is a tribute to perp machinations IMHO. Then onto the chocolate section of the LD store, the scene of last week's blunder-into-me stunt, I was still accompanied by the faux shoppers, aka dumbstruck gangstalkers. Then back to the First Feral Family house where I got the TV and DVD working together from a single remote control with the new HDMI cable. Truly a major event in perp games.

And I see that in-town brother got himself a TV yesterday, and passing on advice on how to link up the digital converter box. Within a week of my mother getting a new flat-screen TV, he gets a new one when he already had one. He said he was using up a store credit after his PC died twice in succession. Given the ongoing perp inanity over how and where they deliver signals to display devices, and the significant number of laptop packing/viewing gangstalkers, his new TV must be emulating whatever is going on here at the FFF house.

Other pedantic perp-important activities were raking leaves (think brown), digging soil, pulling weeds in the backyard. A third invasive weed in three years has to be pulled. All this in aid of building the compost pile, now 4' tall. As usual, the aircraft and vehicle noise started up, as did the adjacent neighbor yapping dog, and kiddie chatter from next door. The perps had me eat a 100g Milka chocolate bar before heading out, the first one in three weeks, and so it would seem they wanted a brown color signature while I was outside doing landscape upkeep work. And my mother had a red-coated friend come over while I was working the backyard.

I shall post this now, and call this week done.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Collision in the Chocolate Aisle

The chocolate fuckery at LD this morning, (think brown color games). My mother doing the ditz-around needing to get gifts for service providers, in the chocolate aisle at a different LD store at 1000h. And as always, slowing up or splitting sideways to allow gangstalkers to pass between us or just plain deviating from my presence as she does with unerring frequency. So, while doing the scouting, and while in early shopping hours, for some reason at least five gangstalkers decended within a minute of arriving and did their choreography of rotating in and out and the ass bending faux shopping where projecting their ass into the aisle for maximum obstruction seems to be the real objective.

And while walking behind a standing gangstalker (bag- she was at least 60), who would of seen me, why she steps back with uncanny precision to plant her heel on my toe and I turn around and tell her loudly enough to watch where she is going. She does this atonement thing where she reaches out to me to touch me and I flick her arm off me. Anyhow, this deliberate contact-abusive fuckery has now escalated to a new level; I might have got the odd bump in the past but rarely. Anyhow, in keeping with the game, another gangstalker dressed in the same color, type and fleece fabric as my own vineyard work jacket (not that I was wearing it), comes in to talk to the step-on-me gangstalker as she saw what transpired (she didn't) and then as if to commiserate about my minimal reaction. I have seen this a number of times; one Fuckwit engages me with some stunt, enrages me, and then another gangstalker comes to talk to the offender as in a faux commiseration dialog. Ridiculous theatre. And my perp abetting mother doesn't say a word; conspicuous involvement IMHO, and she would of heard me say something in the store.

Chocolate, the prime brown colored food they have me "need" 3x100g/day normally, somehow isn't "needed" (per remote influencing) now that I have returned to this abuse and gangstalker town, Victoria BC Canada. And it is interesting  that they haven't even let me purchase the 100g addiction bars they have me eat 3x/day for ten years.

So many perp orchestrated feints, dodges, stunts and the above mentioned affront over the last few days to mention in detail. I am never sure how much detail to add, I never seem to get TI's corroborating their experiences. Nor do I know if I am a top abusee, or if there are other TI's that get these second-by-second slings and arrows all day long. No one tells me squat, when they could, or would be moderately curious.

I am doing all the usual perp-needed activities; weeding, pruning, slinging and sieving this year's compost along with my outings downtown. Yesterday it was back to the automotive tire games again, finding out that the BC provincial website has got it wrong, or else I am being FUD-ded again as to what exactly a winter tire is. Even the local TV news has chimed in as to what a freaking "winter tire" is. Does it have a Mud+Snow rating or is it what should be called a "snow tire". Yesterday, the tire shop told me a winter tire is a "snow tire" with the snowflake and mountain logo on the side, not M+S. It isn't my money, but rims and tires are going to be over $1,000.

The tire shop said they would be 45 minutes, so I went to my former nearby tanning salon and got obstructed by a supposed customer ahead of me going through a whole lot of decision making. All for the E. Indian to pop out of a tanning room and walk past me in five minutes or so, over top of where I was standing, me getting out of his way to the door unlike the arranged dipshit door-obstructing gangstalkers I run into at every turn in this town. And what a freaking joke, having a dark E. Indian at a tanning salon for crissakes. Stupider and stupider is how it gets, a mantra that has served me well.

Anyhow, the tire shop hadn't got the tires on in 45 min. so I waited there while the dude parade started up, from the dapper to the shiftless to the uniformed. Then the tire installation dudes did their putzing with the stack of tires outside of the waiting area where I was sitting, said tires were outside the building in fact, plainly visible through the ample window glass. Another tire dude was inside, and was walking past some 15' away, and not even looking at the waiting area (only two of us) calls out "Ford Escape", and I say "yes" and he says they are working on it. I say fine, but no estimate of when it would be ready for crissakes, the minimal informational content one would expect instead of some senseless acknowledgement of the obvious. That might of been at 60 minutes after they started,  now 15 min. of waiting. Meanwhile the dude parade and male voice banter continued, but it is a tire shop though. Finally, after 90 minutes, the owner-manager says they couldn't find the right rims because of the hub size was different than expected and the tires couldn't fit. Like WTF; they would of known this in 5 or 10 minutes, not 90 minutes, as the snow tires were being put on separate rims which they had in stock. They didn't have to take any rims off or dismount the extant M+S tires first. Plus, they got books on all the hub sizes, rims, offsets and the rest of it, never mind having real experience with Ford Escapes as there are so many in this town. (I wonder why?) So, 90 minutes of getting sucked downtown to have a tan and watch the dude parade, never mind the vehicles passing by on the street some 40' away, me in the window. And never mind the above mentioned tire guy calling out "Ford Escape" for even less reason in retrospect. Has the automotive tire industry gone fucking nuts, from the BC provincial government to the local tire shop? Seemingly it has.

I bought 4 Pirelli P4 tires ($600 bill) from the same tire shop in April, and that didn't seem to earn me any respect either. I had come in the morning to find out what a winter tire was from all this FUD-dery (above), and then when I came back in the afternoon to drop $1,000 on snow tires and rims, they pretended they hadn't seen or recalled me from the morning (even after giving them the printed quote a reference I recieved in the morning). So, yes, the tire business, as it is arranged for me, is fucking nuts. All part of the perps and their insane obsession over tires, rotating objects, ashphalt and petroleum products. Go figure.

Winter Solstice today; always a big perp harassment day, though apart from this morning's continued bizarre-ness at the above mentioned tire shop, I was back on gardening duty,- sieving and slinging the last of the compost that formed this year, and getting the pile built for next year. The hot-rod and other noisy muffler noise came on, as did the aircraft noise, and the neighborhood chainsaw started up again, like yesterday. The new neighbor dog, a brown hound of some kind, was give a plastic head thing to prevent it from scratching its purported veterinarian work at its head somewhere. Yessir, having brown dogs come and bark at me each day in the backyard isn't enough; now make them fubly brown coated and then add some plastic at the dog's head. Go figure.

The tire shop became the Tiresome Shop after this morning's bizarreness, extending that described above from two days ago. So instead of being friendly, as it was my third trip there in two three days, I get addressed as Mr. H....s (surname). The bastion of informal guyness, the local neighborhood tire shop, calls me by my surname for crissakes. OK, never mind, are the snow tires mounted on the rims, and they are and will be a half hour to mount. No problem, I repeat the exercise of two days ago, and visit my former neighborhood tanning salon, and notice the negro with a black toque bobbing up and down between the two parked cars outside. I get tanned, after finding my new bought-there tube of tanning intensifier had gone missing before I set off. Nothing new there, someone doesn't want me to use the product I purchased at the same store.

I get back to the tire store and they are backing up the Ford Escape, new snow tires on, and they stop it just outside the desk where I get my reciept from the counter guy who has either been ignoring me, and now has gone formal. I finish up at the desk inside of a minute or so, and lo, if the Ford Escape, only 4' away through the glass is gone. I go outside to look for it and it is nowhere, and lo, if someone doesn't want to drive in just where I am standing looking for the missing vehicle. I go inside and ask the other counter person where the vehicle is, and he doesn't answer me, pretending to be busy at the desk. So I wait in the waiting area, and wait for some real service. A few minutes later a red coat gortex anorak wearing male comes into the shop and says "where is my vehicle?". The first mentioned counter-person also arrives just then and says he will show him, and then waves at me and says "you will want to come too". I get it, from being ignored, to being "Mr." and now "you".

I walk behind my two male posse, the redcoat and the counter-person walking full 8' sidewalk apart a half block to the parking lot of a funeral home and as he gets to the Ford Escape, he says, "damn, I didn't meet the guy with the keys". He explains that he hasn't the keys for it as he thought the person who had them would be met enroute to the off-site parked Ford Escape. He asks me to wait at the vehicle until someone is sent around. The redcoat goes off to his vehicle, and I  waited by putzing with some pics and email on my phone, and after five minutes a tireshop Fuckwit arrives with the keys, and instead of a normal eye exchange, he gives me this leering extended stare. Like WTF; I dropped over $1,000 on tires and rims (and $700 in April this year), the vehicle is taken away within 30 seconds of me getting into it to drive it away, then we go half a block to find the keys aren't there, I stand around in a parking lot next to the vehicle with its new tires on it, and a participating Fuckwit delivers the keys and then stares at me? I get in the vehicle, with the removed M+S set of four tires on original rims in the vehicle, and lo, if the redcoat male Fuckwit doesn't then chose to drive away just then, some four parked vehicles away. He had over five minutes to drive off while I was standing around waiting for the keys to be delivered, and hangs around in his parked vehicle all the while, and then choses to precede me out of the parking lot. So yes, I will affirm that the tire shop and industry is fucking nuts, same as the perps and their ongoing inanity of having rotating, or formerly rotating (removed tire set) in my proximity.

And a few other vehicular hijinx on my two stop trip back, and even a cluster of seven same red colored vehicles arranged ahead of me. I haven't seen one like this in traffic since 2005 or so. Lucky me.

Anyhow, back to the First Feral Family house and compost slinging, weeding, pine needle mulch laydown and the rest of it with the ongoing vehicle muffler noise, aircraft noise etc. Relative bliss compared to the Tiresome Shop antics of this morning.

A sudden surge of strange dudes in the local CT store at 1100h. None of the usual parking lot confusion games, in fact much less than usual, but there they were, one blocking the entrance to take the rude-dude title of the week. some 5' past the turnstile, and this Fuckwit takes it upon himself to read the flyer and obstruct the central aisle entrance to the store. All I wanted was Rain-X, the indispensible item for rain repellant windows on a vehicle as the bottle in my perp-abetting mother's vehicle had somehow almost run out though she never uses it. And I see her other automotive treatments also disappeared; car wax, which I know for sure she would never use. So who took it?

Anyhow, with enough dudes popping out behind every aisle end it was time to get the fuck out of CT, a gangstalk shit-hole almost as bad as Walmart. And a open checkout, but no, a dude steps in ahead of me and then reverses out for no reason. None of the "forgot something" act this time, he just turned around and headed out 4' from the checkout. Whatever, and so with the item paid for, and out the door, why, more dudes arrive from behind the corners of the building. Back at the vehicle and a cluster fuck erupts with some Fuckwit in one of those Fugly, but much perp loved, Chrysler 300 sedans somehow needs to take both lanes to make a R turn into a parking stall. And slowly too, all to occupy the ground over which I am to drive over in short order to make my exit from yet another over-gangstalked store.

Once I start applying the Rain-X to the vehicle back at the First Feral Family house, why, the neighborhood prattle starts up, more dude banter for me to overhear while using this much-loved perp product. And of course, even if I clean the glass twice, somehow a scuff of something sits in the middle of the windshield to obstruct this driver's vision. So.. having used up the old bottle of Rain-X by now, why, the perps needed a re-application of the just-purchased one. Exciting times in perpland and entirely in keeping with much of what gets used up, first noted when toilet rolls needed to be switched in mid-crap with alarming frequency. Now we have it that the windshield has applications from both bottles, the rear window just from the old bottle, and the side windows have Rain-X from the new bottle only. All this is of great excitement for the perps and is nothing new in their insane goings on. One day, if I ever get to find out what they put in this product, it might all make some sense.

And the arrivals of bits of sheet plastic in the compost handling continues; the pile is clean and sieved, I turn my back, return my gaze to where I was working, and lo, if some plastic didn't somehow arrive from nowhere. That, and the continuing street muffler noise and some motorcycles too. Interestingly, no aircraft (low, or noise only) and no sirens. The neighbor dog yapping kept up for over two hours though, but no wind to perturb compost pile building today.  Though, the neighborhood chain saw noise started up again, for the third day in succession, getting more distant each day. Funny how that "happens'.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Oh the Commotion of Seeing a Certain Celeb on TV

OK, I don't really follow celebs that much, and am overusing the term in the posting title. I loosely follow a pop singer called JAR for now; I have a couple of albums from the last 15 years, seen her web site a few years ago, nothing too devoted. I have seen her twice in concert three years when she came to Victoria in the 1990's, and she is a hoot in her between song chat. She came out with a memoir a year ago, but as it was $30 I thought I would pick it up in year or so at a discount. Nothing too obsessive as far as I can tell.

I was kicking around all day in Kelowna Dec. 11 until the early evening flight to Victoria where I am for a few weeks. I went to a used book and CD store and "found", per scripted/arranged life imposition/relentless abuse, JAR's above mentioned memoir for $5 and bought it. I read half of it at the airport while waiting there, starting in the middle which was perverse for me, but I understand there is remote influencing going on so I don't worry too much about it. Though to be fair, I often read books from the back chapters, though rarely biographies and memoirs because it is a linear sequence. I finished the book the next day, going back to the begining and re-read the latter half again, and have put it down since. I also looked over the pictures in the book, when she was very small from one year, as toddler, and on up to teen years and to her 30's would be my estimate. As the interest in this performer has been piqued, I also listen to some samples on my mother's iPad which took a few days to get going due to her arranged dithering over passwords. Then one mention of JAR by me when chatting with my farmworker colleague/shill a few nights ago, as mentioned in the last posting.

Then tonight, a regular Sunday when I would regularly visit the First Feral Family house each week for the last nine years or so. I watch the dreamy blonde deliver the local news, and then 60 Minutes. Scott Pelley introduces the show segments and to say that it is a specially shortened version tonight, some 38 minutes long. The ads suggest a special version of Survivor or something like it, and as I don't follow these elimination shows much, I thought it was a highly irregular reason not to have 60 Minutes as a full-hour show. Sure enough, 60 Minutes ends about the time I return from the bathroom after an unusually timed forced pee missing the last minute or so of Leslie Stahl's piece on the Costa Concordia wreck in Tuscany. Then a local fill-in show follows the shortened 60 Minutes, which is total BS as why didn't CBS start their next show if it was that important? I putz around on the remote to find that JAR is on a local channel, on a documentary with a local channel. Then my mother puts on some ditzy talk while the show comes on, I explain that it is filling in the time to the hour, then she can watch what she wants.

Then the phone rings and she answers it and it is my brother from Kamloops where I am to drive my mother to for Christmas. Road conditions are uncertain in this region; snow and mountain passes for sure, and my mother has been going on and on about possible new winter tires and to relieve this constant BS-blather  I had earlier looked up what the highway warnings say, "good winter tires" to find out if that means the snow rated tires. It doesn't, and as she has recent M+S (mud and snow) rated tires, her vehicle is fine. So while watching the JAR documentary for some five to eight minutes and getting to see her close up and some 10 to 12 years later, she is fatter and older (less cute) to be sure, (from chubby when I caught her acts in the 1990's). JAR is your everyday unpretentious person, (hence some attraction to me) and reasonably talented performer, and as I learned she had sold out Massey Hall in Toronto four nights in a row and was having a successful year even though her performance anxieties are still very much part of her life after nearly 20 years of performing in public.

Then as I was getting into this documentary and listening to her recount her recent perspectives, I get called to the phone over this freaking tire nonsense again, my mother starting off saying we needed snow tires (one level of snow performance higher than M+S, but not required). I spoke with my brother as he was hepped up about having snow tires (and note, which he does not own himself for all the times he has driven these same mountain passes in the winter). I told him that M+S tires were all that were needed if there was a public statement for "winter tires". And he goes "oh". Like WTF; here he was totally gaming me over some BS over tire type, which he himself does not feel he needs, all to get me on the phone to jerk me from watching the JAR documentary and having some fan-time with her (by way of TV). Then the conversation continued for other things that were more substantive but not new, ending any chance to get back to watching the remaining JAR doc. (Only would of seen for 20 minutes anyhow before the hour was up). So there is at least two things going on as part of the above detailed First Feral Family interventions, machinations and orchestrations at the behest of the Abuser General of The Fourth Reich (Mind Fuck & Life Abuse Division).

One, the heightened recent interest in JAR; memoir read twice last week, three music samples, a conversational mention and today, a documentary (for at most, 20 minutes as "for some reason" 60 Minutes curtailed their show for no apparent reason causing me to switch channels in mid-hour this to occur). So what was that all about, and how many more of these arranged public performer/celeb interest build-ups am I going to go through with other performers, mostly musicians? And by the way, this theme of public performer interest isn't new, just that this was more concerted so to speak.

An example of public performer being visible was a few years ago with Bob Dylan, recluse extraordinaire, interviewed on 60 Minutes (of all places, given his long-running dismissal of mainstream media). Yes, I was a fan of his into the mid-1970's, Blood on the Tracks, and then wandered onto other performers who would of been singing something more intelligible at the time. I haven't bought a more recent Dylan album since, though don't take that as a criticism, and he has been through many artistic iterations and one can never count him out. And so, somehow my mother was fussed about Bob Dylan for some reason during this 60 Minutes piece (four years ago?), knew who he was for crissakes, and had some relevant commentary on him. Like WTF; where did that all come from as at no time did I have a Dylan album here at the FFF house as all my Dylan fandom took place when living in Vancouver and attending UBC. And at no time did any of my brothers have an interest and had his albums and as my mother is totally clueless about current culture, then and now, how did she know who he was and that he was a once-fave of mine? Go figure. Obviously, the 60 Minutes Dylan exposition had very little of the associated build-up to JAR mentioned above.

Back to the above FFF ructions over getting me off the couch and having some fan-time with JAR via a documentary on TV that was rudely interrupted for no substantive informational purpose. many TI's and long-time readers will know that the telephone, an electronic device with speaker and microphone, serves as some kind of instrument to have EMF signals at one's head, and all the more so when timed as conspicuous interventions at favorite perp interruption moments. That conventional EMF signals are routinely arranged around me in a tightly scripted and split-second choreography at certain cognitive functions hasn't gone unnoticed all these ten years of extra-conventional abuse. I suppose the phone in the above JAR build-up sequence, represents the final stage of disrupting or or applying EMF signals to the head which then might of been purposely interacting with my just-interupted "glow" (aka, decaying quantum (?) brain waves) from having seen JAR on the TV (video presentation, over and above prior book, pics, songs and an single conversational mention). And another forced piss after being on the phone, not forgetting one a few minutes beforehand. The perps can go fuck themselves and all this elaborate and relentless inanity. I don't expect this to end anytime soon, as the First Abusee of the fully abetting First Feral Family.

Another notion I want to air about the above gaming stunt and calling me to the phone to miss the show on TV I was watching. Why am I constantly getting dumb-fuck conversation stunts? My mother, by virtue of age, has earned herself the hard of hearing and ditthering dipshit excuse, but so many people, (brother on the phone in above story) are pulling this on me. The ex was another who had variable verbal skills, from skewering me to dumbshitting me, and Ms. C of the story (2000 to 2003) was another one who would pull this game, even if she was quite intelligent.

And I am still going on about the above? What is it about automobile tires, and all their configurations and tread types, that this constant stream of stupid dumbshit games continues as it did above? About four weeks ago my former landlady was also complaining about her snow tires weren't holding the road when other vehicles were passing her on wet pavement with puddled water (lumpy highway). Shouldn't of happened I told her then, and at lunch break I checked her tires and they were fine and mounted correctly (unidirectional tires nowadays). I then looked them up online and they were reasonably rated, though not top rated, but no one was having aquaplaning problems like she did. After lunch I mentioned my limited research to her but she didn't seem too interested in pursuing the problem and she never got replacement snow tires. It all seemed about having me go look at the tires, (two weeks after they were removed from their storage location in the nearby backyard shed, unbagged (plastic bags) and mounted), and look them up online, mention them later and then perp imperative of gaming me over automobile tires was done.

She was understandably fussy about tires after going off the road last year, ending upside down, and got a set of snow tires on rims in addition to a replacement SUV (4 wheel drive) with M+S tires as standard. I just don't get it; all this stupid gaming me, along with the inevitable disjunct or sudden cessation of conversational discourse, and for no apparent genuine informational exchange or interest.

I shall post this one now, Sunday night, now early Monday, having gotten this one over with.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Flight Time

Yesterday evening, the fourth passenger aircraft trip this year to the Gangstalk Capital of Canada, and as regular readers will know, these are the first in some nine years of being beaten down by the Psychopathic World Order, or "Thems" or Fourth Reich. TI's have their own vocabulary for dealing with an undeclared hostile entity every moment of their existence, though I try not to get too far into TI-speak. But they do like to noisestalk me or otherwise create a disturbance anytime I think or type their name. More often now, they are flashing plasma beams, lights or having the grey fuzzy balls flit about, usually two of the latter in formation. Today, while driving the First Feral Family vehicle, and approaching a green light, and the instant I decided I was going to proceed and not prepare to stop (for a yellow light), they flashed a red plasma light in red, the same size of the green traffic light, displacing it to the R and down at the horizontal level of the bottom of the traffic light.

And it is always a big deal for the perps after I take a aircraft flight, as today they had me in for dental cleaning and doing driving for my mother, as she had coincidental eye treatments such that I drove her to her appointment, did shopping at the regular downtown Victoria supermarket, went to my dental appointment and then drove back to collect my perp-abetting mother. Yes, it is back to visiting the First Feral Family again, always a big moment for the perps, and all the more so that I just visiting the Gangstalk Capital of Canada. So much so, they had another professional screw up my intended appointment time for tomorrow, to have it later this afternoon. Yes, more appointment time screw ups, and too, blanking me out as to recalling my next one what/wherever it is. Another dental appointment in two days, and between them, that should drain me of $500.

And the re-visiting occasion at the downtown supermarket was so special they had the scanner not able to read the bar code, and had a dude do a price check, all to eventually return without the item and he "thought" that it was a "put back" as he called it. I said forget it, and when I came back to pick my mother up, I went to purchase the same item, and lo, if it couldn't be scanned, and another dude was onto price checking. The cashiers wouldn't take my word for it that it was $9.99 each time, but as they didn't know me, I can accept that. This is the same downtown supermarket I frequented some six years, and given the intense attention I get over food purchases, financial transactions, the color of everything and the constant freak show that is arranged around me, one can be sure this was a big deal for the Thems.

I had my teeth cleaning this morning by the dental hygienist; attractive, blonde and hovering over me, my biannual blonde girl contact/thrill. And lots of one sided chatter as I couldn't reply back with my mouth open of course, but that is OK. The perps do like to arrange one sided dialog with me, while I am actively processing the content and attempting to map into a coherent whole. With three new dental products to consider and their new requirements, I was indeed challenged as to how to introduce them into my present regimen. The perps have caused my gums to substantially recede which then incurs more products to deal with exposed root sensitivity and the rest of the dental contingencies.

And a more outrageous blatant example of being gangstalked too; an empty coffee shop except for me and a male mofo Fuckwit comes over to the next table, and places his backpack next to me. Like WTF; a welcome back to the Gangstalking and Abuse Capital of Canada it would seem. I swallowed down my remaining coffee and skedaddled. Which set me up for the dental hygienist visitation, having my teeth just "browned" by coffee, and then 15 minutes later taking X-rays of them. Exciting times in perpland to be sure.

A second dental appointment, building up the inside of my top eye teeth for whatever reason. The dentist sprang it on me earlier this year when normally she tells me the story. But as I had to get another crown chip smoothed, and I was in two days ago for teeth cleaning, so the "need" of plastering dental plastic on two of my teeth must proceed. All $571 worth, another serious budget hit as I am not working this month. And a burst of three dudes, one in the ubiquitous hikey-bikey yellow cycling jacket as I came to the dental office assistant's counter. After that, more stalking culls on my way to the vehicle, one attempting to do the R side pass, coming straight at me. Then to the health food store I once frequently  patronized when living here, and lo, if there weren't more dudes doing loiter-stalking, making out doing deliveries. Then to the local LD, and in a most strange interaction, this ridiculous floppy-walking male, and apparent staff member, comes at me and asks if I am finding what I am looking for. As I don't know the store layout at this one, I asked him where the chocolate was, and after ditzing around he points me to the correct aisle. In the ten+ years of this insane gangstalking and patronizing the LD chain, and observing staff doing their stocking cart stalking, criss-crossing my path and all the rest of the gangstalking choreography, never once have any of them asked me what I was looking for. And today, I get this goof who seemingly picks me at random. I get to the Milka chocolate, and another two dudes are doing the faux shopping thing, walking ahead and looking sideways, (extended bendovers being another signature stalker trait), and lo, if by some unconventional means the chocolate bars don't burst out of my hand by themselves. So, fuck that, and I purchased what I had from elsewhere in the store and went to the checkout. But why are these aimless dudes clustering around and have no seeming day job?

And yesterday's cross town trip in the afternoon, about 1.5 hours after having a single chocolate bar, turned out to be bumper-to-bumber vehicular gangstalking for over 45 min. at 1500h in the afternoon. I had the army on my tail for 35 minutes driving through residential areas, and they even put on an EH-101 helicopter (yellow) from the Coast Guard, also seen earlier in the day flying over the First Feral Family house, and doing extended buzzing around for no seeming purpose. And suddenly at 1700h my farmer colleague needs me to go, and lo, if there wasn't even more vehicular traffic backed up in the just dimmed light. The perps love those dusk onset times, especially to run red vehicles ahead, behind, split apart, and in an astonishing piece of idiotic driving, they put two same red colored side by side vehicles, making a left turn in concentric formation, coming from my left to get in fronty of me, when there was only a single lane. That takes deliberate coordination as I have always seen one driver getting totally freaked out by a tailing vehicle irregularly inserted next to them while moving with no designated lane.

And in about four hours at 1800h, only 30 min. later than yesterday's 1730h run, though in the opposite direction, I get to meet my farmworker colleague again for a soup night with other friends. Why am I put through these gaming events all the time? This is the same dip-shit who told me "at least I will have privacy" in my new residence location in a phone conversation last week. Just leave me the fuck alone and go rape and fuck with your own operatives.

And don't go shooting any more innocents in malls; I haven't been to Clackamas Mall near Portland OR since about 1995 or so, and I would not want to be so aggrandizing as to assume that misfortune and fatalities always follows me, but I find it most odd that a relative unknown with no criminal history or gun ownership, goes into a mall with a white goalie mask (white plastic, hmmm) and a military rifle, announces to someone that he is "the shooter" and shoots three shoppers, two of them dead. Then he runs off and does himself in. And it would of been a lot worse if his stolen AR-15 rifle hadn't jammed, and if there is a perp involvement tip off, that would be it. They routinely fuck with objects by remote means all around me, and I can personally attest that they can remotely jam guns. Way back in 1972 for a summer army reserve employment, they did just that in a training room with us each with an FN-1 in hand during classroom training. With no ammunition, everyone could pull the breech block back except for me as it had somehow stuck;  the corporal starts to ream my ass as I was exerting a whole lot of force on it and then it suddenly released. No one else of 40 of us had any such problem at that time or any other, except for me. Funny how that happens.

An hour of plant pruning before and after lunch today, with the extra-yappy dog starting up again. Said dog had an unerring knack of starting a yap session just as I was cutting the branch with the pruners. Then after the dog finally gave up, the aircraft course overhead in greater numbers, and then the hot-rod muffler noise starts up to finish the session, with the rain coming on.

And I see we have another tragic, even horrific, school shooting incident today in Newtown CT elementary school. It is almost predictable that they "happen" at the beginning and end of terms. I did not know about this until a few minutes ago, and as it occurred 0930h EST, three hours earlier than here, that would of made it 0630h. No radio on at the First Feral Family house, and nothing on all those TV screens at the TV store I visited for 30 minutes at 1430h.

More pruning today on this sunny and warm day, following yesterday afternoon's deluge upon my pruned branches still remaining on the backyard lawn. My gardening activities are getting protracted by way of adverse weather onset or else my perp abetting mother's driving requests.

I was severely pissed yesterday when they pulled a stunt, augmented by my mother's subsequent extra dithering just when urgency was called for, just to make me 30 minutes late two days in succession in visiting the same farmworker colleague. Yesterday it was an evening trip, and sure enough, they had me eat some chocolate before I set off, all to have for the first time in over ten years, a deep brown metallic colored gangstalking vehicle in front of me for some 5 minutes of tail-me time. The perps will go silly in introducing red colored vehicles around me in the dark, but never brown, save for the odd tan metallic finished, a hue very close to their much loved silver-grey tone.

Anyhow, I suddenly had to drive my  mother to a local function, just one way, return back to the First Feral Family house, wolf down a pork chop in tomato sauce with some green kale, and then depart. I had it all timed for me to leave on time and get fed, and the ex called to say she couldn't pick up my mother. And when I get to my farmworker colleague's place it was for soup, and lo, if it wasn't tomato based soup with kale chunks in it. That she also put on her short sleeve shirt to show off the majority of her arm skin covered in red psoriasis lesions surely wasn't a coincidence. And her ponytail-male platonic pal was there, but he seems OK apart from the irregular hairdo.

No helicopters and army vehicles tailing me last night, unlike the daytime before, but instead, the petroleum products tankers out at 1800h (heating fuel) and my erstwhile long-time corporate gasoline products gangstalker/supplier was out at 2200h for crissakes. That same outfit would arrange to be on my route on Sunday evenings nearly every week in the 2003 to 2006 vehicle ownership years before they arranged impoverishment to have the Volvo 245 removed from my possession.

More driving my mother into downtown, and then getting cluster fucked/gangstalked while trying on new hiking boots. It is such a big deal for the perps to put on the intensified idiot gangstalker show while I am removing, or trying new footwear on in public. No wonder they keep teasing me for weeks about a pair of hiking boots that seem to be the right ones at this particular discount web site by putting them in this email deal flyer every other day but don't add the extra discount. I had never seen this site do this before, selectively discounting items in an email flyer when the entire selection is discounted. Absurd; but as I need new hiking boots because the extant ones somehow "stretched" a full size bigger even if custom sized 23 years ago, this has now become a long running game. Thanks a bunch; they fuck me out of needed footwear and then fuck me around with online discount teases that mysteriously violate the years' long prior format of all electronic flyer items being discounted. Not to mention how my feet somehow changed from size 9.5 to 10 over that time span, (maybe that is normal though it would be news to me) and said stretched boots, originally a custom made size 9.5 are now size 11. Go figure. All this intense insanity over my hiking boots, though I use them for all my vineyard and farmwork jobs.

And more shopping skunks; just like six months ago; a small tanning salon I frequented in this gangstalking city prior to moving in 01-2012 has a particular scentless tanning adjunct product that I cannot get where I now live (smaller town) and cannot get online. And lo, if they aren't out of it again even if they sell large volumes. I had my tail arrive the instant I found I was skunked again. The perps pulled this same skunk stunt at this same tanning salon in the summer, after having a meal with above farmworker colleague in an adjacent restaurant.

And what it with this business dressed Fuckwit male, mid-50's to early 60's, hanging around in the TV and video shop, staring at me while I was speaking with the salesman? These grim well dressed males occasionally come to stand around for no apparent purpose, but rarely to the assholes chose to stare at me, a fleeting glance at best. But this Fuckwit has hanging around waiting for the salesmen I was speaking with. If I get any stares it is nearly always some quasi-deranged Fuckwit. Once I recieved the salesman's business card, he turned out to be the owner/manager no less, another occasion of the business owner getting dispatched to engage with me.

And while downtown, Christmas shopping time and all, why were there such a propensity of Fuckwits/shoppers chosing to come right at me when there was plenty of room on the sidewalk. One blonde woman got in closer using this ruse by looking sideways at the critical juncture to ensure no ambulatory street collision. Just plain berserk as it is consistent.

My perp-abetting mother "needed" to do the annual near-futility of getting biscuits, as she calls them, at this particular nationwide department store downtown. Like WTF; she "needs" to do this before Christmas for the past six years at least, and every year this department store has less and less food products. And I have told her where to now go and she keeps insisting on going there. I got the certifiable whacko doing the pacing all around within 20' of the checkout or so, and even standing in one location for a while when this sudden eruption of shoppers queued up in front of us, the second store of two where this line-up formation eruption took place.

And the switcheroo with the cashiers again, with my mother doing the paying and me waiting beside me, and the initial babe cashier somehow needed to go elsewhere while my mother was doing the card fumbling act. I "happened" to be next to this gate to the cashiers area, and lo, if they didn't put on a babe to come through beside me followed my a large Asian male. Said male needed to return in a minute to sweep behind me again on his way to become a cashier further along. Like WTF; if someone is assigned to open a new till, why would they depart the cashier area to return a minute later? This insane relentless fucking commotion arranged around me at every public financial transaction I am party to. Then, the babe cashier somehow took longer to come back, and the much larger plain young woman came to take her place and put the items in the shopping bag. Whatever; swapping cashiers in mid-transaction is nothing new since this abusive imposition began in 04-2002, especially if transitioning from a Favorable (babe) to an Unfavorable (male, or fugly human) is nothing new. Though this time it was more like a Favorable to a less Favorable (Neutral maybe) cashier.

Yesterday while at a small specialty running gear store, they had the male owner course by to show me a few things, and two young women at the cash desk. One was blonde and almost attractive except for her very wide disproportionate mouth, the other might have been attractive save for this awful oversized loose curly wig she had on. It was extra obvious and I even checked the hair again when she wasn't looking and it had the characteristic iridescence of cheap artificial hair, like a stage wig that wasn't meant to be looked at closely. So to summarize the arranged freakishness; one normally Favorable member of the sub-population of young blonde slim women, was given a freakish mouth, and the other young slim brunette was in this ridiculous oversized curly wig. That is, two Favorables given Unfavorable features, and me looking at one to the next and attempting to answer how did I deserve this?

And more garden work this afternoon, always a big deal at the First Feral Family house; pruning again, and the perps went and sabotaged the pruners by having the pivot nut just drop off. Like WTF; I had taken them apart last year, cleaned them up and sharpened them, and somehow the pivot bolt had its threads worn down from no use whatsoever such that the main nut couldn't hold on. I rarely see any steel thread wear down, and to have this happen means near daily use with a sloppy fitting nut. But somehow, this set of pruners, which had not been used at all since mid-2011, had its key bolt thread wear down to the point of not being able to hold the mating nut.

And when I finally found a replacement pair of pruners, black steel handled instead of aluminum, why, the next door neighbors came out and started talking, and he eventually resorted to his long time habit of throat clearing. I have been pruning and plant tending off and on for a week now, and they were never out in their backyard, and within two minutes of me resuming with a different pair of pruners, why, they arrive and do their background talking, and then he and his long time throat clearing act. For a throat that never seems to get better, and he isn't a smoker.

Some 30 minutes after that, the Sikorsky S76 helicopter came over, and then another inside of 10 minutes, the latter with the paint scheme of being the air ambulance, not the commercial passenger flight. I moved to another plant to prune it, and lo, a single engine aircraft came in low (400' up) to then do its turns and climbs with all the attendant noise of course.

After skipping shaving today, a full frontal shave and arms too. This is the three blade razor insert instead of the normal two, and a gree teflon strip as well. No big deal to me, but the shaving interuption stunts have been every other day now, and shaving is always a big deal, especially now that I am visiting this GS town and staying at the FFF house for nearly three weeks.

Every night now, the perps have prevented me from getting sleep for an hour or more, usually two hours. And with this single bed that has subsized sheets that get pulled off me in the night, why, it is just like old times, all these color and fabric combinations they like to mess with as I am in bed.

And of late, these planted wedding and engagement ideations. Another WTF; I have no romantic interests and only an eligible female TI would do. Even my 22 y.o.daughter makes herself scarce and is minimally engaged along with a certain thankfulness about most gifts I give her, birthdays and Christmas. It was last week in the final days of work at the winery/vineyard, and finishing up on discussing the aquistion of test bottles/containers for wine evaluation, that wife of the owning couple mentions containers of a smaller size that could be used for weddings. Whatever, though  she said "for your wedding", which seemed to be a syntactical error really to mean a generic instance, but she turned to look at me as she said it, which then made it in a personal context. I said something to the effect of  "not much call for that" (meaning I wasn't getting married anytime soon, which she would of known anyhow from our 8 month association), and she didn't say anything to alleviate the potential confusion. We were finishing up on this task, and I asked if we were done, with no kind of reaction to what she said, and went off to do something else. Another WTF; why would she make any inference about me and a wedding when she knew that I had no such plans, even remotely? (Not referencing the arranged and orchestrated existence I am kept in). So many WTF's of late, and for what? What is a better term; confounding illogical and irrational statements and behaviors by others (CIAISABBO)? I will stick with WTF moments, even if the first three letters of that acronym might have salience, though I have come to the conclusion that they are really the conventional physical world arm of the Fourth Reich. Wasn't it Jesse Ventura, a former Navy SEAL, early in his term as governor of Minnesota who met some 30 or so individuals organized in the basement of the state capitol building who introduced themselves but none would state what their mission was when asked? They claimed to be from the CIA, a bogus rationale as they aren't to have any domestic US operations. No news or congressional interest or hearing about that of course.

Time to post this on this very dim and windy Sunday afternoon, keeping the weekly or so format going.

Sunday, December 09, 2012

New Motel Residence

First weekday at this new residence. And the brown games were on. Not only do have many unpacked cardboard boxes, and the contents out of those that I did unpack, but I also received a brown box from a certain online discount place with the items that I ordered. Of major note was this soft shell jacket, a nice mid-blue in color, and lo, if it didn't have a patterned scarlet red colored liner that I did not expect. This is so much red that I don't think I could wear it, even if it doesn't show. The perps have a way of planting constant nagging ideations to have one change their mind awful quick. And I also see that the same underwear I order in black, is now with a half blue waistband (inside) and with some small red patterns on it too. Otherwise, it is identical in make and cut to my all black underwear. And as the perps have been on a ten year long tear as to my underwear color and all the other related details, this represents the first progress in being allowed to have anything but black underwear. They still won't let me have plain briefs, and insist that I have a high waist and extra (useless) panels on the front.

A double move as it "happened"; the room next door was to be the one, but lo, if there wasn't a problem with the reservations, so I had to move again last night, one room away. This being a motel room, and cramped it is, unlike the one I had in January thru May. The perps like to alternate keeping me crammed and then having sufficient room. I would posit that there has been two of each for the four places I lived in this year, alternating, and starting with sufficient room.

Then too, this motel has more of the shiftless males loitering around with no seeming day job; sitting outside their rooms, sucking on cigarettes, and their telltale perp coughing and hacking. Every so often they do a soliloquy on the cell phone to ensure I hear enough background "dude banter", as has been the long running perp stunt.

And true to form, a resumption of the toilet blocking games within 2 minutes of finishing the move-in for this residence. Regular readers will recall this identical stunt/event got pulled on me the last residence within a minute of the last box being hauled from the vehicle. And then that wasn't enough, because the put me through the same exercise this morning. I recall this same back-to-back blocked toilet stunt was pulled in the first week of the last place too.
They gave me a week off from toilet games last week, and now are back at it. At least they didn't block it as I was departing the last place as these events can go for three or more days before they are "resolved" with Liquid Plumber. Or should that be dissolved? And just when I wanted more ammunition in the form of bleach to deal with this problem, why, it disappeared from the shelves of the regular gangstalker big box store. (And the red staff shirts give me the heebie-jeebies). Regular readers will recall that the One Minute Plumber gas cartridges also disappeared from the same shelves when I was to replenish the three expended cartridges at my employer's toilet hassles this past summer.

And plenty more hassle today, the first morning in this room; re-directed finger control, objects flipping or turning on their own, soap bubbles from nowhere and all the other juvenile pranks that I have come to loathe all day long.

 I got whacked for a 45 min. "nap attack" after tea and chocolate some 15 minutes into a new book; and has this not repeated in recent months? Yes it has, and it would seem they want me more psychically accessible following beginning a book.

The former landlady had to be re-visited yesterday for me to collect my damage deposit. What a freak; 250lb, dressed entirely in red, and a thick neck like a frog. Then she regales me with her Air Miles card woes (again), as if I gave a shit, as I loathe those customer loyalty cards, unless store specific.

The landlady paid me in cash, the new Canadian $50 bills with polymer "paper" and even a see-through panel. The bills ended up in my wallet for longer than planned as she kept me until my tanning appointment time (clothes off, note), which then backed into store closure time and a big perp stakeout at the LD store. Then to the ATM where oddly, two of the six $50 bills went missing, though I wasn't allowed to know that then. Only afterwards did they run the logic of how much there should of been from a damage deposit, reimbursement and labor work I did for her. I was $100 short, and yet I put all the $50 bills into the envelope. [Post script; I see the bank ATM staff logged a "Error" and a $100 addition to my account, now one day later. So it would seem the perps needed to steal two new polymer bills from my wallet, have me deposit the remainder after jerking me around to other errands when I intended to deposit them right away, and then give them back by either re-inserting them into the sealed deposit envelope or directly transacting with the banking system. This would not be the first time contents of my wallet have disappeared by themselves outside of the conventional physical reality of most every one else.

They finally let me finish out the week with vineyard work, the wine all put to bed for the month I am to be away. I also moved the fruit tree prunings from yesterday; a tree service person came yesterday while I was inside, putzing with the wine making. The perps like to arrange someone cutting plant material near me, if not having me do it. Last year, when helping the boss' son move house, the cable installer was cutting a nearby shrub with his pliers as one of the more absurd cases of cutlery severing plant material. Just to think we now have combine harvesters cutting swaths of wheat, corn or whatever, and here are the perps grinding me on pruning vines or fruit trees. Back in 1996 I had a small hobby farm with an acre of kiwi fruit, which needed pruning each year. Now 18 years later, they put me through the same routine, just on someone else's farm.

A Saturday, and a full leg wax appointment. They pulled snow in the night, though only one or two inches, and it warmed up during the daytime to melt some of the ice that was crusted on my vehicle. No driving hijinks either with some ice on the road. The perps can use anything as an excuse to create hassle or adversity.

I went shopping after the leg wax, and the perps do like to swarm me then, and I had my posse in LD store again, though no loitering dude where I needed to go this time. Then to vacuum my vehicle for the second time in a week, as the pink gravel at the vineyard seems to find its way on my shoes and then into the foot well.

 The yapping dudes has set up outside my door, just voices right now, though when closer one of them mentioned a "roster". Hmm, as in organized shiftless males. Kind of a gimme on their part.

Another parcel has gone AWOL. A watchband to replace the one where the keeper self-ripped and for the last three weeks this infernal watchband sticks out 3" and contacts anything and everything at my L. hand. In the past, during key Fuckover moments, the watch band would flip out from its keeper loop all by itself, and now, I have the watchband snagging games going 24x7. Said letter parcel is traceable, and it took six days to send it from Bethel CT to Bethpage NY making it there Nov. 26. It left Bethpage NY Nov. 29 with three departure scans in three days and hasn't been scanned anywhere else since. And have I not mentioned the strange goings on with parcel deliveries? Many times.

Meanwhile, a book was ordered a few days later and it arrived inside a week. Largely because it is a two hour drive away, though I didn't know that at the time I ordered it. It seems that Amazon doesn't want me to know where the seller is physically located, and only the province, state and country is mentioned. Just more coincidence games it would seem.

Speaking of which, for the past two mornings, a vehicle at the next motel, 100' to my right, has been copying my R turn identically as I pull out from the motel to the street. I had this same deal for at least three mornings in succession at the last place I lived at. Though it is nothing new, as this copy-cat driving, emulating my turns and lane changes, was evident as soon as the assholes went berserk/overt in 04-2002.

I am due to drive out to Kelowna, 1.5hr northbound, and I see the perps pulled another snow job. Only an hour ago I checked the forecast and no snow was mentioned.

Am back from yoga; only 9 others this snowy morning, though not deep. Much less than the elbow to elbow classes with 25 or more. The cycling dude got close today, he and his grunting for crissakes, and he cannot get the poses right, only going partway. Said dude managed to park himself over my boots after class, and after putting his dumbshit dayglo coat next to mine for the entire class as I discovered afterward. Then while changing he stepped into my view, so fuck that, I cross to the other side of the lobby where a couch is, which was the signal for two women to suddenly file out the door. All these choreographed exits, entrances and obstructions.

They put on the blonde, young and proportional but-large woman instructor this morning, and making sure I saw her oversized ass more than once. This time she was in all black, having alternated from black and white in past classes. And it seemed to be bra-straps-on-show today, nearly half the women with some kind of visible undergarment straps. This is nothing new in the perp arrangements anywhere I go, but to have an undue emphasis on it in one yoga class is most curious. And one tattoo woman who put herself directly behind me by 8', and it seemed to be the arrangement that I would only occasionally see the tattoo in the mirror. Bad enough, but she was the one that came beside me two weeks ago when I was last there, and with plenty of more tattoo exposure then. And if I don't like the sight of tattoos, why is it that a secret organization needs me to see them in glimpses everywhere for over ten years of hounding me out of work and a normal existence?

The yapping dudes outside my door have clustered and keeping up the male banter, post tea and chocolate. Double the usual 100g no less, to make sure I have more brown signature I suppose.

Calling this one done before I travel to the First Feral Family home for four weeks. There should be a carol for TI's, maybe to the tune of 12 Days of Christmas- Four Fuckwits, Three Belligerent Drivers, Two Split Couples and a Brain in Research. You get the idea. In fact, the perps let me have a number of versions in prior years before they cut that from me.

Sunday, December 02, 2012

Its the Beets

All that red food last night, the beets in particular, though the tomato soup was part of it, might be why the perps are going silly with red dressed or red vehicle gangstalking. Then they did the irritable bowel thing again at work, relieved by taking a crap, and lo, if they didn't block the toilet yet again. I think I have at least ten such events since May. And here we are; 10.5 years since they invaded my apartment and blocked my crapper, and they are still hounding me over taking a crap with all the obstruction games and other related stunts I won't get into for now.

 And at least ten minutes this morning spent on cleaning up perp mess; they bled me big time when shaving my torso and the stepic pencil was ineffectual for some strange reason. In fact it was so bad that I put the mop-up towel in the bathtub to soak all day until I got back to get it laundered.

The boss got into his Monday adversity act again, though he kept it shorter. One has to wonder why he hasn't twigged to the fact that conflicting statements are coming at me every week or less. It was all about support and sanction for my "creative winemaking" two weeks ago, and now he want to clear out a wine vessel to make room for the next project in the winery cum garage. Except that what he wants to bring is something that he acknowledges should be outside for its cool temperature ferment. Cutting off a malolactic ferment, which reduces acidity, for a wine that is too acid, to gain unneeded room strikes me as either interfering or poor winemaking. Give it a week and it will change, possibly. I don't know what to make of his expeditious rationalizations at times, but I will come back at him to say the wine needs to continue its malolatic fermentation. Though to be fair, putting wine outside in cold temperatures will also cause a different acid to drop out, which maybe the right solution. Enough pondering this small universe.

I always thought the contrails were white, but here they put on some dark ones for me as I finished up work at 1600h, past sundown in these mountains.

You will need to zoom in to see all of them, as the bottom pic has a short squiggly contrail over one of the center hills. I thought it was just absurd that they blew their own cover as to these being legit contrails. Or, is there something I don't understand about contrails and how they are conventionally formed?

And why is it they gave me a head cold today? It will be a two week dose up of vitamin C, ColdFX and echinacea. We did this head cold stunt earlier this year when in viticulture class, and they sent it around to nearly all the class members, one by one.

A futile work day, almost floaty, then a nap attack for 45 min after I got in.

This evening a male visitor to the two ladies who own this property and live here upstairs. And so, the male voice yapping started up for me to overhear in tonal form. From the perps' perspective, where nearly every event that is deemed useful is played at each location, in an attempt to separate geo-locational energy fields from my own.

I decide to go out to go tanning tonight, and lo, if his red vehicle isn't in the driveway in front of my vehicle. Like WTF; what moron does that to someone he doesn't know? If visiting the two ladies, and has a good idea that they will be in, then park behind them for crissakes. Said dude starts his car up, turns on the headlights in my face, and then goes through this wrong-side-of-street turnaround performance, drives away half an block and then returns within 15' of where he was parked in the first place. He could of backed into the second parking location from the first one inside of 30 seconds without the performance part. But as the vehicle was red, and was parked in the dark evening light, and as the perps love to hound me with red colored vehicles judiciously injected with supporting white, silver and other grey-scale colored vehicles, the above parking ridiculousness was planned all the way. And another perp bonus, was that I was driving through a location where a red vehicle was parked, and they cannot get enough of that either.

Yesterday's gangstalking vehicle tail that covered 95% of my route after work was also red, and they do like to put on red especially at dusk onset and night time. I am told it has to do with the receptor cells in the eyes, the rods and cones.

And so, off to tanning in the lie-down bed as it "happens" that the stand-up tanning booths were initially promising then got dialed down in terms of effectiveness. The use of the booths began two months ago when the lie-down bed had all its bulbs changed out for new ones. Such is life in this Unconventionally Mutable World I am contained in.

A cute stunt they haven't pulled since 2008; the Fuckover Force screwed me out of setting the alarm last night, even if I had the alarm clock in hand to set the alarm time earlier than it was. And "somehow" the alarm didn't get set. In my entire life I have had no problem about setting the alarm and here the assholes pull this forced forget with the clock in hand. And no doubt arranged it that way, making sure I am roundly pissed at their intervention instead of just plain pissed. And a 9.5 hour sleep too, and only needing 8 hours. No doubt this was in aid of their games at my place of employment when the cleaning lady comes at about the same time as I do on Wednesdays. So it would seem the perps wanted the cleaning lady to have a 1.5 hour lead on me starting work in the same house. Exciting developments in Perpville.

Another clogged and fogged day, getting some things done, but more like getting interrupted before finishing another thing. The perps just love this game, conflicting task completion.

And speaking of which, why do they like to have professional (medical) office staff screw up appointment dates so after writing an appointment in my book, why, I find out they made a "mistake" and I am obliged to arrange a new date. All the more fun for the perps when it is over the span of two calendar years. And likely has something to do with having me enter an appointment at the wrong day other times. Again, I never had any problem reading an appointment book, and now there is about a 30% chance of screwing it up.

Another sort-of stunt; I got a package from the winery supplies business via the bus freight service in town, and took the package to a wine test lab business to give them a small portion of the contents of one of the packages to include in their testing (bentonite for wine fining). It is the biggest deal for the perps to have me open packages, and now they set up circumstances to have me do this at a new location, one that I don't frequent much. Just another hilarious hoop for the victim to be put through. Never mind these weird hoodie dudes hanging around the bus station, be it the passenger area or the freight office. Someone decided that bus stations must have semi-vagrant dudes lounging around each time I visit there. I don't get it, save that the perps are deranged beyond compare, individually and collectively. Never mind being the Uber-Quislings, working for the aliens if you buy into the oft witnessed associations of them and earthlings and their organizations.

Moving day today, and damn if the landlady didn't engage me for 40 minutes with some more possible arrangements that might be 3 months out. That someone mind fucked me into agreeing with her request to have me scrape her driveway clear of snow, should it come down overnight, means a whole lot more driving there than I wanted. Plus all the snow conditions, and the extra time it will take. How stupid of someone to have me make any further arrangements with this woman who surely must be an operative to lay on this BS so smoothly. She is a borderline crazy, one cannot detect this at first until a more involved engagement occurs, and I don't need any more of this personality type in my existence, the ex (20 years worth) being another one.

And the odd placement of Fuckwits was in full flush when I was packing or unpacking the vehicle, a whole three trips. The young woman seated outside with a laptop 20' from the stairwell I ascended and descended countless times in my moving efforts was a signature perp prop. Then the dude who sat down 4' from her was another; how absurd, they are either together and closer or don't know each other and are too close. Said dude was seated in the lean-forward crapping pose, another long-time perp posture giveaway.

And after a near screaming rage show on getting this PC connected, when normally I don't have any problems would be another perp mind-fuck stunt. That and the passing dudes who made a sudden throat clearing noise when unpacking the vehicle earlier. Then there was the plasma splotches of bright colored light that would stay in my vision in approximately the same location as I moved from inside the old suite, to the intermediate utility room to my vehicle parked temporarily in the carport today as the landlady was kind enough to give up her parking space for convenient vehicle loading today. I get more of these bright plasma spots that erupt as I am about to move from inside, to partial cover, then fully outside, especially if abetted by a delaying conspirator.

This suite is a motel unit, as it is common for motels to rent a low wintertime rates, the same arrangement I had from Jan. to May this year 2012). I have about half the space I had at the old suite, but no one clunking and exercising the squeaky floorboards overhead. (Now, as of a few hours of residence, someone clunking a door or like from below). And just when I thought I heard the last infernal hot rod muffler noise at at the last place. why, someone came by and put a hot rod muffler noise just for me while outside packing boxes.

And each place I live at has to be initiated with a brown box parcel in addition to all those I packed in. This time it is UPS and a delivery I didn't expect until next week, and lo, if there weren't already two attempts in two days in my absence. (Two notices on my door when I first arrived, putting on the yellow and brown too). And of course the driver could of checked with the front desk to see if I was here, and phoned me for a check for the custom duties and taxes, but for some strange reason the driver didn't appear to have any discussion with the front desk. And have I not complained about strange parcel delivery service before, and that it appears to be from every courier? Many times, and it is all too common to be a coincidence.

Another moving/relocation jerkaround was to have me temporarily set up in unit #36, when it was #37 that was originally arranged. Some excuses were cooked up to be sure, and in three days or so I get to move next door into a much bigger unit. Funny how these snafus just keep coming.

Another move-in quirk, and in keeping with what happens at other residence locations, including the last two, is to have the internet connection on the fritz and have me use a cellphone aerial instead. The motel wi-fi was to to be working, but lo, if they aren't still having problems, a whole month's worth now.

A Dashed Expectations and Yoga Obstruction stunt for my very first morning here in my new motel residence, having moved here yesterday. There was to be volunteer grape picking at a nearby vineyard, so having recieved an invite, I responded to the email that I could come Sunday, and not Saturday, and didn't hear back, even less than an a half hour before I set off. And so it "happened" at the same time as yoga, so I decided to skip that gangstalk crush, and drove 15 min. up the highway to the vineyard. And as it "happened" they finished the picking yesterday and the owner was too busy to email me back. He gave me a bottle of wine for my troubles and I drove back.

Now that I am now residing some two blocks from the yoga studio, and all my gangstalking pals are stretching their spines in class, even as I write this (1005h), why, it would seem that the perps wanted me neaby but not attending the class, and too, sending me out of town for a short sortie was just the thing to do to the non-stop victim of over ten years, as a new residence is a prime Fuckover Event. I recall that I learned of Princess Diana's demise was only two weeks after moving house, and similar for John Lennon, as it was within a few days then. Not all premature celeb deaths are coordinated around my moving thank goodness (for them or me), but perp timing around my residence moving is when they get busy. Stay tuned.

Other related perp directed activity was doing more online shopping before I set off, and returning to the same website once I got back, all to find that the hiking boots I am most interested in were not at the deep discount as most everything else was on the page for email deals. Such is how it goes, Bait And Switch being very much part of perp arranged scenarios.

And a nobody-there stunt at the front desk when I wanted to drop off my UPS delivery reciept with a check, so I was obliged to take it with me on my short shopping trip to LD. The parking lot at 1130h was jammed full, and I had two same red vehicles parked around me when I pulled in. When I got back, why, a third red vehicle also in the identical red tone. And my red hoodied elder-stalker tailed me in and then went elsewhere, but lo, if he wasn't 6' away in the next aisle in the LD store while I was pondering the cough medications for 5 minutes or so. Then the female stalker that needed to put her cell phone next to the USB cabling to take a picture was still obstructing that section 6 min. later when I came back. There were plenty of other freaks and Unfavoreds, especially while picking up more chocolate. My dude force needs to move at the moment I touch anything brown. It looks to be a shut-in day for the rest of it, the weather is quite variable today; dark clouds, some blue sky and sprinklings of showers every so often.

Late PM and time to call this a wrap for another week in Psychopathic Abuse Land. I now get to see television again when staying here, and it is something the perps like to meter. And on 60 Minutes tonight, a N. Korean escapee from a generational prison camp who was born there on the camp, and only learned of the outside world from a new prisoner. His parents only got to be together after they worked extra hard. And starvation level food all the time. Hmmm; born into captivity, but in a prison camp instead of this Freedom Illusion we live in, by extension of my covert abuse and remote behavior influencing abuses.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Staged Micromangement

The perps didn't let me sleep a wink last night; or that is how it seemed as they often mess with me as to my perceptions of sleep loss. I got to hear the upstairs duo return from being away, about midnight or so. Overhead floorboards squeaking again, woo-hoo. Sleep deprivation is their way of keeping me at the same energy level as the day before, and it usually occurs on a Monday, which this is.

I was perturbing the chemical ether; PVC pipe gluing, the very first time since 2000 when I owned a small farm. The assholes had me put in over 600' of 2" PVC pipe on my farm property in 1997 to 2001, including changing the water supply line to the house, and it took me a long time to pay that off. Then they fucked the irrigation system for the acre of kiwi fruit, so I had to repair that over many weeks, and after harvest, they had me eat the fruit. And now, over eleven years later, they permit me to putz with PVC glue and pipe to make up some parts for racking wine at the winery I work at.

I did PVC gluing this morning, putting irrigation pipe together to make it hang from the rim of the tank, one in 1/2" and another in 3/4". I finished the gluing when both the owners in uncharacteristic togetherness, arrived in the garage, cum winery where I was. She filtered out within a minute or two, and the male boss man got all cranky over stirring the lees of the Pinot Blanc wine (batonnage technique) after giving me carte blanche creative freedom for winemaking last week. I answered all his cranky micromanagement questions about winemaking, and as he didn't have any leverage there, he then got cranked about the incomplete to-list items from last week that he phoned into his wife, who told me. And the reason they didn't get done is that they were incomplete instructions; transfer the contents of this wine barrel (containing vinegar). Like WTF; to where, do you want to keep it, do you want it racked, the barrel cleaned and the wine/vinegar put back in or what? Only this week, and when he was in person, was I getting some clarity, and now four days later he still doesn't know what he want to do with the barrel. And it was getting stupid; filter the wine/vinegar and then he will decide. Like WTF; taste it first and decide if it is keepable, and if it is, then filter it. Just a bee under his bonnet to crank the angst after having me polluting/perturbing the chemical ether with the PVC solvent and glue. Fucking weird.

And the helicopter noise came on big after lunch when returning to gluing up more PVC pipe. It was raining and blowing all day, but as the airport, some two miles away, has a helicopter pilot training school, why, they "happen" to be out at the most perp demanded moments.

Toilet games again; a 2.5 day long blockage over the weekend finally surged down last night (Sunday), and then a sudden "need" to crap this morning and it wasn't very much, and lo, if it didn't somehow block the toilet again. Then more compounding games, a forced shit tonight after bailing it out and dumping the relatively clean (Liquid Plumber rich) contents down the bathtub drain. The toilet blocking games continue apace for some reason. Maybe because it is the last two weeks at this residence location. I have been through about a gallon of Liquid Plumber Pro these past 2.5 months. They blocked the toilet within two minutes of moving in back in August.

And to take this story back over 10.5 years ago, when a high tech home invasion began with plasma beams, masers, knock-down flashes, teleportational objects followed by personnel who blocked the toilet. The most curious thing was that I let the Fuckwit do it. And so, taking a crap is a huge stressor because there is a 90% chance it may get blocked, they plaster extra shit on my ass, and other continued abusive intrigues with the plunger.

Yesterday's yoga at 0930h (Sunday) was another ridiculous crush of 25 or more in the room. As the perps seem to be ramping up the nattering dudes of late, before and after the class, as well as increasing the male voice component of the music while the class is in progress. They let one dude (the Prime Hinderer) recount how odd it was that so many are attending yoga class on Sunday mornings. Well, duh; there was only another 5 or 6 students in the class in the summer this year, and now it has erupted into 25 because it is orchestrated and scripted. You don't have the belabor the obvious for me, but they do it all the time.

I see the native Indian delegation of five in the recent yoga classes didn't come, and the numbers were made up by all Caucasians. Even the tattoo count around me was lowered, partly because the native Indians weren't there, and because the Caucasian women around me were selected for their minimal tattoos; L side had a 1.5" tattoo on her ankle, and that was about it. The woman with the horrific set of tattoos down her arm and onto her shoulder and chest wasn't there thank goodness; she has moved from being in the line of sight in the mirror, to 10' away, then only doing the tattoo strut after class to not being there at all. I have launched into this rant many times, but if I don't like the look of tattoos, and think they are a disgusting infliction and disfigurement, I don't understand why I should be hounded by senseless abusers for over ten years over two countries and the 15 places they have had me stay (so far). Go fuck your own operatives, have them get tattoos, you don't need me. Just to think, WWII German concentration camp victims were tattooed, and could that of been in the services of the same abusers who won't declare their intent, and yet can manipulate persons, circumstances and objects by remote means?

And here is a good one; the busiest hospital in British Columbia got flooded by burst water main today. And as the perps chase me with ambulances, and just love to flick water around me, it just might be the tattoo gang again.

A putz day at work for the most part, the boss' diversions still coming at me. A vinegar brew in his barrel,  and we are talking since last year. Somehow, he thinks he can clean the barrel out and continue to use it for good wine.

The PVC pipe and glueing follies continue. The hardware store that didn't have the 1/2" unions on the weekend but had them late yesterday (Monday), and the 3/4" unions that I had two of were now sold out as of this morning. Which is exactly opposite to the weekend when there, and the only two sizes of interest. And the boss who took the 3/4" pipe union I gave him yesterday as a shopping sample, somehow lost it even before he departed he said. So he went into town to get another, among his other chores, and didn't return with one I supplied. And these parts are manufacturer dependent for fitting; the two grey colored ones, 1/2" and 3/4" unions he got yesterday, didn't fit and he left them on the bench rather than return them. And it wasn't the only return for these parts; they stung me with two 3/4" unions from the same manufacturer that didn't fit each other because one was threaded and one wasn't. Got all that? Ever more bizarre plumbing part problems nowadays. (FYI; a pipe union is a pipe fitting that allows one to assemble or disassemble pipe with finger tightness; good for swapping pipe pieces in or out).

The perps have a constant interest in PVC, especially as it is the kind of pipe that is used for irrigation and drinking water delivery. Back then, I often wondered why there would be a sudden influx of males at the local irrigation supply shop, and I just could not fathom why it repeated no matter what time I arrived on Saturdays (usually).

I was sacked for a two hour needless nap on the couch after supper. Then directed to start laundry, only to find the landlady's laundry remaining in the washing machine. Then onto the near five day continous blocked toilet, and a big bowl full was duly arranged, defying plunging. The plunger had to be cleaned off in the bathtub, and lo, if they didn't have me chase it with a forced piss. The 1960's avocado green bathtub continues to be of significant color interest to the perps.

They had me get a new 2 liter jug of Liquid Plumber after work, and so it would seem that they want to continue the toilet-shit games with a new jug. Swapping toilet paper in mid-shit happens far more than by chance, and it isn't a huge logical extension to expect them to do the same with Liquid Plumber, their latest toilet interest.

Besides, I just purchased the Liquid Plumber today, and the local hardware chain was at half speed for gangstalking, not their usual level there. Another all-time first was that the cashier tailed me out the store to the doorway, with some seeming excuse as to putting their faux money in a charity bin. And this was after the putzing in getting the till running, swapping out trays and the rest of the extra ridiculousness over their intense and abiding interest in all my financial transactions.

A round of Liquid Plumber last night, and lo, if the toilet didn't surge by itself a few minutes later in a vortex eruption. Still looking blocked, it got some of the latest Liquid Plumber (just purchased), and cleared this morning. Never mind what the inside of the bowl looked like, but a sudden noise from overhead when it was cleaned.

I got a sacked for an hour long nap after dinner, the second in three days. They like you to know it was deep and still tiring when awakened afterward.

More games at the winery; two 1/2" fittings did not connect; the barbed fitting was 17.5mm, when 1/2" is 12.5mm. Then they had me get the wrong part, a male fitting when I wanted a female fitting, and so it goes, another trip to the big box hardware store.

A call to my farm worker colleague tonight; she was talking up that I would be moving next week, and said "at least you will have privacy". Like WTF: here I am invaded down to every last thought of every last cell (it seems), and most "participants" know much more about this abuse than me, especially if involved with it for multiple year interactions, and now telling me that I have privacy. Of course I wasn't allowed to think that at the moment, and only after the phone call was I allowed to consider what a ludicrous statement that was. That is how it goes; not even allowed to think and integrate information by one's own faculties.

An half hour of gluing PVC pipe pieces together, then digging over a vegetable garden for an hour, and then racking the red wine. Just as I had everything set up outside for wine transfer, why, a low flying helicopter comes over, following the power lines that border the vineyard property where I work. I would say it was as low as 100' or less from where I was, maybe 20' above the powerline. All to greet me before I set about pumping the red wine from a tank to a bin, hosing the tank out, and then back again into the tank. A yellow AS 350 with some blue detail, a helicopter I have seen before at the Ironman Triathalon in August, 2012, and it had a knack of finding me in the crowds there. Funny that.

Then the wine pumping got sabotaged as the pump wasn't drawing wine, and after some frantic re-jigging the line by taking out the coarse filter it did work. Though by then, I attached the vinyl hose to the outside of the PVC stem I had built this week, serving as a stiff rod to contain the flippy and curl-prone vinyl hose. So in fact, the wine traveled beside the white PVC stem instead of in it. Thanks a bunch assholes.

The drive to and from from work is still going with its one lane closures; alternating traffic only. The line up behind me always has the vehicle behind by some two or three vehicle lengths, as if my vehicle, or me, is toxic (which it might be). Where as, all the other vehicles behind them are tightly grouped. And today it was extra headlights in my face, and even an amazing contrivance of having one dump truck ahead dumping while the one behind was arranged to have its headlights beaming underneath the raised dumper, but over the chassis. I now routinely get headlights aimed at me as I enter or depart my vehicle or places of business. Even Fuckwits in vehicles outside this house for some strange reason have their headlights aimed at me when I arrive, turn around, and back into the driveway. So many wierds just sitting in their vehicles in parking lots with their headlights on. I call it pit-lamping, and I don't need any more attention than I have, so fuck yourselves.

And while coursing the one lane egress where they are blasting senseless amounts of rock when the road was plenty wide to begin with, an female roadside worker (seemingly), in discussion with male colleague (Cheersing), steps into the single through lane about 20' in front of me, and the male told the female (apparently) that a vehicle (me) was coming, and she stepped back. All to raise my momentary angst, have me stare and swear at the Fuckwit that pretended to be so nonchalant about imperiling themselves, never mind the driver inconvenience. That takes planning to be that (seemingly) fucking stupid on an active road construction job, and to be so nonchalant about it. Never mind that I "happened" to be the lead vehicle in the group let through, as the school bus ahead of me was let through and I wasn't. And as I was going some 30kph (slow), there wasn't any screeching tires, though I had begun to brake. The Fuckwit dudes in the pickup behind somehow arranged to be at least 100' behind, as normally the traffic is only one or two car lengths apart.

And I see the pic I took of the helicopter today mysteriously disappeared from my camera, but leaving the one after it as the only one taken. Another thanks to the assholes is due.

Got sacked for another nap attack; two hours worth. And they like to dish it out; I first awoke from the nap after an hour, and was too tired to get up and so I put my head down, and poof, there went another hour.

Not much happening at work, so I left at noon. The wine lab test results didn't come in, as I was hoping to find out if the MLF (malolactic fermentation) was complete.

The toilet was blocked again as of last night and resists treatment. So off to the mall to take a crap, and were they all over me, en route, and there, gangstalking that is. The hinderers were busy stepping into my intended path and coming from around corners right at me. One loopy elder dude even had his tongue sideways in his lips; most perverse.

An all day course yesterday, Introduction to Winemaking Chemistry. Yes, it was interesting and beneficial. The toilet games ended too, and a sinus cold started up last night. Another remotely invoked incursion as I have come to know it. The yoga class/crush will be in an hour. I was going to switch to Wednesday evening but had a "nap attack" then this past week

The yoga class size was reduced for some reason, about 15 or so. The native Indian delegation was absent again, but the proximate tattoo count was up. A new woman had them on her R shoulder and L calf to her ankle, a cluster of sense trees. Gross it was, and the perps made sure I looked at it much more that I would of myself.

And too, it was Fat Girls again, with the Prime Hinderer dude coughing the very instant I set my eyes on another wallowing Fat Girl. Said dude was directly behind me by 8' or so, the first time they have put any male near me at this orchestrated yoga class. And the Prime Hinderer was doing it again; standing in front of the coat rack, blocking my egress and pretending not to notice. That he pulls this shit off at least once per yoga class, either on arrival or departure, and it defies any kind of happen-chance occurrence.

Then onto the big box store to finish up on getting some pieces of pipe for the winery I work at. This time it was a turbaned gangstalker, doing three reprise gangstalkings in his revolting headgear. The supposed sales person finally made it, though talking to the turban first, and then me some 20' away in the same aisle. I had a question for the sales person, and so we went to the customer service desk to look at the books that describe the particular hose. The perps, by way of my boss, have been on the rag over hoses; finding out about food grade hose, beverage hose, and of course, above PVC pipe gluing activity.

I get to the checkout area of this box hardware store, and one checkout has two apparent service reps leaning or sitting on this one checkout counter. The cashier was there too, and I asked if she was open. She said yes, and only then did the two apparent sales reps get off their asses and allow me to proceed to this checkout. Naturally, per past perp games, they were occupying the very turf that I had to stand on to pay for the goods. And have I not mentioned how many times the perps go extra berserk, noisy, or invoke other disruption methods (messing up the debit card reader being one), whenever I make a financial transaction of any kind; coin machine, bus fare coin box/card reader, mailed check, cash transaction, return transaction all invite extra perp fuckery. This was clear from the very start these assholes landed on me in 04-2002. How could (apparent) retail store staff be so legitimately rude, and seemingly jointly spaced out, as to block customer egress to the cashiers and make themselves to be so oblivious about it? There is no plausible explanation IMHO; this dude-stalking abuse, especially at financial transaction moments, is so obvious and consistent that it has to be orchestrated by operatives of the Psychopathic Fuckover Force (ECCO (Earth Coincidence Control Organization), The Thems, or whatever term one uses). Said hardware store is a Canadian chain that  starts with R and ends with A, and is a whole four letters long. An abuse abetting organization as a four letter word.

And just when I want to disengage with the landlady, why, she turns on the woe-is-me act and has me doing gardening again. She seriously pissed me off in October, to the point of calling this rental situation done. And yet she wants me back to house sit etc. And of course they have me respond "yes" when she is a thankless grim minded bag that is most adroit at mixing fact and fiction; the central reason as to why I am moving after only three months here, my shortest tenancy ever.

And why do I get these clever fact and fiction mix artists all the time? The ex was one, 20 years worth, Ms. C of the story was another, and some since, and now this landlady, easily 230lb, and in keeping with belonging to multiple Unfavored demographic groups (fat, ugly).

I shall post this before the weekend is over.