04-23-2012
On and off loud mufflered vehicles as I type this, which somehow get through at the same volume with my hearing protection off or on, it doesn't matter.
A day of tying down canes in the vineyard, and decent weather as well. That is, the pruned vines are tied to the horizontal trellis wire. The weather was good enough that I might wear my shorts tomorrow, that is, above the thigh, and not those absurd baggy ones below the knee that the gangstalker assholes favor, and like to present as Unfavored. They even put a baggy shorted male 200' away, hand digging his farm's water pipes to install yet more PVC pipes. At least one of the crew was also wearing a mid-calf pair of shorts, in plaid no less, and he was a native Indian. Go figure.
And why is so freaking difficult to get a vineyard job in wine country, when I have a viticulture certificate and four years of farm work experience? The jobs suddenly dried up, and only five or so in the last five weeks. Other sites seem to be similarly compromised, not having vineyard jobs. But as I have said many times, every facet of my existence is arranged for maximum adversity, and this is only one example. In 1989-90 I spent ten months full time training on GIS (Geographic Information Systems) and couldn't get a GIS gig. My employer promised it, but it never came in the nine years I worked there. In other words, that training was essentially wasted by the perps, and they are full value in pulling the same vile stunt again, this time in viticulture.
04-25-2012
Tying down vine canes all day, and as well, attempting to not knock off the delicate leafy florets that are emerging from the buds. And much frustration with the perps pulling the things from my hands, I am sick fed up of being sabotaged while applying the viticulture training I have taken for the past three months.
A new worker today, a beehive hairdo girl, but with dreads making up the beehive, and green tinges too. Someone must know I cannot stand the sight of dreadlocks, so they put them on a girl for me to encounter at various points in the day.
She is the third sub-30 yo. woman on the crew to have an extra ample ass. This cannot be a coincidence. The fourth woman is extra ample everywhere. And on the visual scene, baggy shorts predominate, especially with plaid; absurd.
I fourth job advert at this one vineyard, the latest posted was yesterday. So I stop in as they are not far away from this temporary worksite, and I got the reply "we don't need anyone" (E. Indian of course). Prior job ads were pulled, saying must speak Punjabi. The next day at the employment center with a physical job board, I mention my experience in person, and she pulls the ads from the board, and mentioning this might be an immigration scam, though she did not want to say anything more.
04-26-2012
Rain, even a rain warning... new wiper blades put into use, purchase five days ago and installed, and RainX was beading off water on the windshield, though not its usual excellent effectiveness. And we do know about the perp's obsession over wiper blades, even nicking new ones to leave a streak at every occilation cycle.
Wearing my Blue Storm rain gear, only two other workers, one being the beehive dreadlocks girl, now wearing her dreads down instead of upcalled off at 1100h. The rain got worse and then the wind started up, making it considerably colder. Lots of new perp things today; rain pants (worn once since last year when I bought them), rain coat/shell, never used for over six years, and then I use it today.
And in my usual parking stall when I get back early, why a LH drive Toyota Landcruiser with a big winch on its front. (The perps like to arrange braided cable around me when they have half an excuse; odd that there was drums of cable next to the location of the 9/11 attack on the Pentagon). (I have a 1997 Toyota Camry, as of two weeks ago, my first allowed vehicle ownership since 2006). And two stalls over, why, a Toyota Camry identical to mine save the fugly grey-purple paint color, though likely the same greytone as mine, a mid metallic grey.
04-27-2012
I am using Notepad notes for blog, once it gets online. The wifi internet has been very sluggish or not availible for three days now. It impedes essential job searching and banking, and I am getting mighty pissed that this motel isn't getting on with fixing it.
Another day of cane tying in the vineyard. I putz away, getting my finger motor control dithered and messed with by an undeclared malevolant force; extremely frustrating when one depends on one's motor skill to make a pittance of a living.
A vision attack while driving back, just as I made the corner at OK Falls; thankfully only one eye. The game might be all about making my eye red, and then use that as some kind of reference for the endless red vehicles that are arranged around me.
I wore shorts today; even if sunny, not much of a tan and no sunblock on. Unlike last week when they reddened my face even if using SPF 60 on it from 0800h on, and re-applied every 2 to 2.5 hours. Which suggests that skin color reaction to sunlight is arranged too.
04-29-2012
Sunday, a day off from work, though never for harassment, ever.
Internet access is still obstructed at this motel, one more month to stay before I must move. and no movement on getting a longer term working gig. Income tax returns are due tomorrow, and I haven't started due to this internet access obstruction. Just when I need the internet the most, why, poof, the motel is putatively putzing with the network, now in its third incarnation in two weeks in terms of login protocol. Though, that should end today if all goes according to plan, getting a cellular network device and plan, so I can move around with it. That and a new cell phone service too, so I have telephone number portability. (I use the motel's phone service for local calls). And of course, they could mess with the customer situation at the network provider, as I was in the store three days ago to do just that, and lo, if there wasn't a customer swarm to tie up all the store personnel and create a too-to-wait obstruction. One can be sure the perps like to arrange dry runs, partial completion to cause task resumption and all manner of means to protract anything I do, especially if a rarity, e.g. new phone service, new residence, new vehicle (three interuptions to conclude the deal that day, including a dental cleaning appointment).
Plenty of extra-conventional jerkarounds and forced recall lapses to get me riled up this morning, per usual. One's fingers are not even my control, with plenty of extra jabbings and brushing sensations from nowhere. Plus, the assholes make sure I know about all my unhealed cuts and nicks on my fingers, as they too often "happen" to get nudged and touched to create extra pain jabs. The recent paid work of vine cane tying precludes the use of gloves as they always (somehow) get pinched between the horizontal trellis wire and the vine, creating more difficulty in getting the job done. That is on top of the assholes pulling my hands off the tieing ribbon or wire, the cane, breaking the ribbon, the unexpected sudden release of the cane when being held and tensioned to the trellis wire and countless other physical perturbations of getting the job done. If you ever encountered a string of misfortune, and ask "why does this happen to me?", well guess what, there are malevolent entities that can remotely influence thoughts and one's entire physicality in realtime (aka targeting), and just love to create duress, exasperation and annoyance, if not worse. Strange and as over-guarded as that seems, and ten years ago before this abusive, relentless, tyrannical and psychopathic ordeal began, I would of never believed such a statement either. Add this blog, and others of similar kind, and read the It Happened To Me oddities that other much less harassed (even "normal") persons have written, and one could objectively come to the same conclusion.
Laundry day today, always a subject of much extra abuse and perp attention. Having the washing machine stop in mid-run "from" a putative load balance problem was running for three or more weeks straight, and now today, that problem has suddenly stopped, for the first load so far, one to go. These were even small loads, one quarter full at most, and were balanced when I loaded them and "somehow" the normally reliable washing machine had a problem running for at least three weeks. And more color games too, with two same model/color washing machines available, side by side, and one with a black plastic vane, and one with a white plastic vane. And lo, if they didn't force me to switch between the two, first having me start on the latter. Exciting times in perpland, pissing around for ten fucking years and counting as to what color the vanes of the washing machines I use. I say "force me" due to various reasons; the only one available, the white one became unreliable (per above) and the white one was scuzzed up much more than the black vaned one. Just another example of the perp's attention to detail that goes on every mortal instant of my existence.
Not so fast; the second load of laundry "somehow" stopped in mid-load with an apparent load balance problem. This was the load that wasn't one quarter full, and somehow it stopped the washing machine? And when I looked inside there was no imbalance at all. The usual routine is to shift some soggy garments around and then close the lid, and why, it completes normally. And this was the machine with the black plastic vane set, and it somehow pulls this off the same as the the white vaned washing machine beside it. I say laundry obstruction. I suspect the washing machine stoppage games are all about having me touch my chosen soggy garment for color interaction testing. If true, there will be years of this freaking nonsense to come, any washing machine, any site.
I tried to connect this PC to the laptop I was given two weeks ago, and no go; not recognized at all, on either side. Surely one can connect two PC's with RS232 cable and have them show up in Windows 7 and XP? I don't know for sure, but it is freaking ridiculous in any event. Sometimes I wonder if Windows wasn't meant to try the patience of everyone and to raise angst and duress all the more. And that ergonomic efficiency (Apple mainly) might sneak in as the marketplace winner after all.
04-30-2012
Much to be busy about yesterday, culminating in getting my income tax return done and sent electronically. Payment will be by snail mail, putting the envelope in the mail box, having me done the same thing at the same time last week, applying for a job. The once-per-year login and password for income tax return filing became a flaming hassle, no doubt perp managed. As I did not have the 2010 tax return on hand, I couldn't update my address online, and consequently was to send in the paper version. Screw that, and I hand wrote the new address on the remittance coupon. No doubt I will get it in the ear from the tax authorities, the same ones who requested the same information about my divorce agreement for four successive years, pretending they didn't have it on file after the first time. Can we say directed harassment from the tax authorities too? (On top of police, military, ambulance and border patrol personnel)
And it was also the day of acquiring a new cell phone which can also act as a modem and serve as this (very heavy) desktop internet access. After the shenanigans over the last two weeks of this motel (where I reside until May end) and the up and down shared wireless access, it was long overdue to get the latest and greatest cell phone. And as it seems to be imposed itinerance in chasing vineyard jobs, it is high time that I had my own phone number, not to be revealed here.
But of course setting up the cell phone as a tethered modem wasn't going to work out of the box, and with no Samsung Galaxy Note manual, I was hooped. Event the carrier's tech support was stumped after 20 minutes on the phone. Eventually it appeared there was missing drivers, so back to the store again and get them. Of course he didn't explain it wasn't the drivers per se, but the Samsung desktop portal application that synchronizes with the cell phone, More unneeded perturbations in figuring out what files he gave me. And as part of the FUD game, I wasn't allowed to just run the exe file as it would of been the obvious thing, save for the imposed mindfuck+FUD games.
And having used Ufile tax software for some three years, I attempted to purchase it and lo, if the assholes didn't block the transaction with the game of the wiggly letters which one must authenticate by typing in as text. I even used the audio, and I still got blocked. So instead, Turbo Tax this year; purchasing it was allowed by the Psychopaths of the Fourth Reich. But the real question is, what in the fuck does it matter which freaking tax software I use? And of note, this was done over the just-installed cellular data link, not the motel wifi. As mentioned many times in this blog, the perps have an obsession over which networks and wires I use, and wire metal and sheathing colors, and it seems they wanted me to try a new network access with with new software. Next year I swear, they will drop one of those and have me using the old software on the (new) cellular data link. Their habit is to test me on complex things first, and then when it is time, (and I don't know how they determine this), they change some of the key variables, and test it exhaustively. Another recent example is the recent shaving games, detailed below.
After two years of this new "habit" of shaving my front and arms as well as my face as part of the morning routine after showering, the perps are now creating this time pinch then, and having me shave only arms or front in addition to my face. All part of their functional and energetic signature decomposition games it would seem. It only took ten freaking years of their insane abuse to get to this point. Count another ten to cover what else the life rapists have in mind.
I going to call this a wrap, as in posting it, as I need to get on with the next trial, finding a job and place all in the next month before I must move from these wintertime low-rent digs.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Ten Years On
April 15, 2002 was when the perps first struck in a shock and awe invasion on my apartment. That was the day my income tax was to be submitted, this in Seattle. But they scrambled me so I couldn't get it done, which was most uncharacteristic of me. I got nailed for a late filing fee, and for the perps, that is just what they like doing, jerking me around at every turn.
First, they had me fall asleep on my apartment floor, after visiting the 24Hr Fitness, where they arrived with seeming guns under their track outfits. My medications that went missing from my locked locker had somehow arrived back in my apartment by themselves. After a sleep, I was packed in, held aloft by six men, and then placed meon the floor, possibly forced into another sleep. Upon waking up, they flashed lasers, masers and plasma beams at me in my apartment, making it to seem if it was to be a police invasion for some reason I could not fathom, as I had done nothing wrong. There were brown colored light flashes which caused me to collapse in sudden tiredness. There were noises that came from nowhere, there were small batteries that appeared from nowhere and were self propelled along the carpet. There was a steel screwdriver that folded and draped, unbidden by any conventional cause. They appeared to be cutting a hole in the floor from underneath, though there was no evidence of this afterward. The door was shifting sideways in the door jam, again, no conventional explanation, as in why didn't they just barge in? And when off to work the next day, some wierd dude was sitting in the chair near the door, my very first gangstalker as it turned out, and the assholes haven't let up since.
I didn't make it to work that day, a Monday, and yet no one phoned and no one said anything, and there was no administrative inquiry as to where I was. Probably because they were watching the apartment invasion live in some kind of situation room, as my former boss, and present boss "happened" to both be away that day. And lo, if my boss wasn't a former CIA agent, doing their bidding in Vietnam, and now in the health care informatics business. But as they say, there is no such thing as a "former CIA agent", just wearing different spots.
Back to the 10th anniversary. building a compost pile at the First Feral Family house/yard, then a two hour break for seeing the farm worker colleague ex (with her there too) for a "free" laptop PC, then more compost slinging, then lunch followed by a visit to the supposed dementia suffering father, one half of the asshole parent team that put this insane curse on me. Then return, and back to the compost, slinging it and getting the mighty (4'W x 8'L x 4'H)pile built in layers of advanced compost, this year's leaves and non-weed vegetative discards, and some compost accelerant.
How was I to know that ten years ago I would be putzing on compost heaps, one of the perp's most compelling obsessions? And in addition to the artful breaks, per above, in getting a compost pile built, the noisescape all the while was kids yelling, lawnmowers, yappy dogs, overhead B-52's, a black helicopter again (same one), and the vehicular racetrack noise that San Juan Ave. has become.
04-17-2012
This is the fourth attempt to type this in, the assholes are hyper-abusive tonight.
A drive from Victoria to Penticton yesterday, taking the ferry, and getting fucked into a route to Hwy 1 where they took out the entrance ramp. This forced me to head into Vancouver over the Port Mann bridge, to get to the next exit, cross over the highway, and get E. bound, as originally intended. Naturally, they didn't post the highway modifications anywhere, as it always seems to "happen" that I get fucked into heading in the wrong direction.
And two outrageous women drivers when I arrived on Highway 97, from 97C; one who had to pass when I was already going the speed limit, and then one following who was attempting to get by in the L lane after the R one was tapered out. So here I was with the white vehicle beside me, only one lane, and on the shoulder avoiding collision contact. I rarely experience any wacko women drivers, and here I get two, one after the other, members of the white, silver-grey and greyscale vehicle color contingent to accompany me. Three silver-grey vehicles were ahead as part of the consort.
And 3x airflight booking, and still don't know if it worked; same deal three weeks ago when I attempted to book. This time it got more ugly due to this ridiculous auto-response system, and the perps making me fuck it up by forcing me to do throat clearing. Thankfully the live person was helpful.
Vineyard work today, tying canes down to the trellis wire; and all manner of forced/designed fuck-ups I would never make myself. relentless pulling items from my hands- typing tape or wire. Then the tape breaking by itself, with inexplicable failures when it can be tensioned considerably. And lots of side chat from the white trash gang/coworkers- plenty of faked throat clearing while working on the canes, especially when I am attention switching, about the last vestige of mind activity the perps cannot yet remotely control or otherwise fuck with.
Internet access is clobbered tonight; so slow, and so many pages timing out, sometimes immediately (go figure). The perps like me to be listening to Iris Dement, a long time favorite with me finally catching up on her lastmost album, Lifeline.
A sudden room shaking thud and a zap up my spine, just as I was switching my attention to something else. Now, a second room shaking thud with a lesser zapping experience. I swear at them again.
04-19-2012
I got fucked into doing vineyard pruning in street shoes when I always wear my hiking boots. And a red burned face, even if I used SPF 60 sun block on my face, applied twice. And constant perp fucking with my fingers and motor control, pulling tape, wire or plants from my hands and then again, up to 6x per plant to make sure I was the slowest worker.
04-21-2012
Two evenings without internet access, the assholes having shut it down, and I couldn't get to the college's internet access yesterday, because the library closes early on Fridays. And we worked late to finish this dreamy block of vines, overlooking Lake Osooyos. Though steep, at 40%, and we were raking out the rows to ensure the prunings were in the middle to be chipped up by a flail mower.
Today, with the vineyard block next to Highway 98, S. of Oliver, the perps put on excessive numbers of motorcycles all day, at least 300 in dribs and drabs of two or three at a time, an equal number in each direction. And no less, putting at least one on top of a flatbed tow truck to thereby remove the motorcycle operation and rider from the total energetic analysis equation.
Now, they put the noise on here, all evening. There is no bike meet to account for so many, and it is still April and it cannot be tourist season yet. It is a Saturday, but surely this isn't going to be the norm? The perps have a consistent pattern of exploiting my ignorance of traffic patterns in cities that I don't know, e.g. Penticton where I am, and all other places in the Okanagan.
A severe vision attack while driving back from vineyard work, and I am still recovering some two hours later. The stinging eyes trick, often correlated to my use of sunblock, even if I put it below my eyes so it doesn't drip in from my forehead. First it was the L eye for 10 minutes of highway driving, then it was the R side when I reached downtown Penticton. My eyes were so red that I had to give doing errands after I dropped off my work colleague off. Then they arranged three young (about 12 yo.) girls to be running down the middle of the street and straight across a roundabout, one about to enter my exit path, and forcing me to stop, and then proceeding just as I was to proceed, and finally the kid had the sense to go behind the vehicle. I don't think I have seen anything so fucking blatant and organized as this before, but if nothing else, it is a stream of firsts for human strangeness.
04-22-2012
A day off work to attend to other perp staged "needs". First being to resume the tanning to keep myself ready for the blazing sunshine of this locale. Then to LD to get batteries for the remote key entry fobs for the vehicle, both running out at the same time and needing replacement. I got the size from the Toyota manual, and lo, if it wasn't wrong altogether, forcing me to get another battery, back to the LD store in the afternoon. Then out to get cleaning and wipers for the vehicle; vehicle windshield mess and wipers and their tracks are big Fuckover stages for harassment. Once I bought new wiper blades, and then a few days later I see it laying a track on the windshield, and on further inspection I see that the assholes had nicked the wiper blade so it missed some water as it passed by.
And senseless amounts of motorcycle noise, hotrod noise, and ill-maintained muffler noise all day today; 5 to 8x/minute, and somehow getting through my earmuffs as "needed" by the mind-keepers. This noise has been arranged for when I am out doing errands, or inside this motel suite that I rent by the month. If I don't like motorcycle noise, then why in the fuck is it a ten year noise obsession to arrange this everywhere I go?
Still no progress of a semi-permanent vineyard job; a sudden dry-up of only five in the last five weeks. This temporary gig is only because the Mexicans are late arriving, and we know who looks after these kinds of things. This is getting to piss me off considerably, as now that I have a vehicle, and vineyard work training, and no reason why I couldn't do such work, and yet no advertised jobs all of a sudden. That the national job bank went down for three weeks in late Febuary and early March didn't help either.
First, they had me fall asleep on my apartment floor, after visiting the 24Hr Fitness, where they arrived with seeming guns under their track outfits. My medications that went missing from my locked locker had somehow arrived back in my apartment by themselves. After a sleep, I was packed in, held aloft by six men, and then placed meon the floor, possibly forced into another sleep. Upon waking up, they flashed lasers, masers and plasma beams at me in my apartment, making it to seem if it was to be a police invasion for some reason I could not fathom, as I had done nothing wrong. There were brown colored light flashes which caused me to collapse in sudden tiredness. There were noises that came from nowhere, there were small batteries that appeared from nowhere and were self propelled along the carpet. There was a steel screwdriver that folded and draped, unbidden by any conventional cause. They appeared to be cutting a hole in the floor from underneath, though there was no evidence of this afterward. The door was shifting sideways in the door jam, again, no conventional explanation, as in why didn't they just barge in? And when off to work the next day, some wierd dude was sitting in the chair near the door, my very first gangstalker as it turned out, and the assholes haven't let up since.
I didn't make it to work that day, a Monday, and yet no one phoned and no one said anything, and there was no administrative inquiry as to where I was. Probably because they were watching the apartment invasion live in some kind of situation room, as my former boss, and present boss "happened" to both be away that day. And lo, if my boss wasn't a former CIA agent, doing their bidding in Vietnam, and now in the health care informatics business. But as they say, there is no such thing as a "former CIA agent", just wearing different spots.
Back to the 10th anniversary. building a compost pile at the First Feral Family house/yard, then a two hour break for seeing the farm worker colleague ex (with her there too) for a "free" laptop PC, then more compost slinging, then lunch followed by a visit to the supposed dementia suffering father, one half of the asshole parent team that put this insane curse on me. Then return, and back to the compost, slinging it and getting the mighty (4'W x 8'L x 4'H)pile built in layers of advanced compost, this year's leaves and non-weed vegetative discards, and some compost accelerant.
How was I to know that ten years ago I would be putzing on compost heaps, one of the perp's most compelling obsessions? And in addition to the artful breaks, per above, in getting a compost pile built, the noisescape all the while was kids yelling, lawnmowers, yappy dogs, overhead B-52's, a black helicopter again (same one), and the vehicular racetrack noise that San Juan Ave. has become.
04-17-2012
This is the fourth attempt to type this in, the assholes are hyper-abusive tonight.
A drive from Victoria to Penticton yesterday, taking the ferry, and getting fucked into a route to Hwy 1 where they took out the entrance ramp. This forced me to head into Vancouver over the Port Mann bridge, to get to the next exit, cross over the highway, and get E. bound, as originally intended. Naturally, they didn't post the highway modifications anywhere, as it always seems to "happen" that I get fucked into heading in the wrong direction.
And two outrageous women drivers when I arrived on Highway 97, from 97C; one who had to pass when I was already going the speed limit, and then one following who was attempting to get by in the L lane after the R one was tapered out. So here I was with the white vehicle beside me, only one lane, and on the shoulder avoiding collision contact. I rarely experience any wacko women drivers, and here I get two, one after the other, members of the white, silver-grey and greyscale vehicle color contingent to accompany me. Three silver-grey vehicles were ahead as part of the consort.
And 3x airflight booking, and still don't know if it worked; same deal three weeks ago when I attempted to book. This time it got more ugly due to this ridiculous auto-response system, and the perps making me fuck it up by forcing me to do throat clearing. Thankfully the live person was helpful.
Vineyard work today, tying canes down to the trellis wire; and all manner of forced/designed fuck-ups I would never make myself. relentless pulling items from my hands- typing tape or wire. Then the tape breaking by itself, with inexplicable failures when it can be tensioned considerably. And lots of side chat from the white trash gang/coworkers- plenty of faked throat clearing while working on the canes, especially when I am attention switching, about the last vestige of mind activity the perps cannot yet remotely control or otherwise fuck with.
Internet access is clobbered tonight; so slow, and so many pages timing out, sometimes immediately (go figure). The perps like me to be listening to Iris Dement, a long time favorite with me finally catching up on her lastmost album, Lifeline.
A sudden room shaking thud and a zap up my spine, just as I was switching my attention to something else. Now, a second room shaking thud with a lesser zapping experience. I swear at them again.
04-19-2012
I got fucked into doing vineyard pruning in street shoes when I always wear my hiking boots. And a red burned face, even if I used SPF 60 sun block on my face, applied twice. And constant perp fucking with my fingers and motor control, pulling tape, wire or plants from my hands and then again, up to 6x per plant to make sure I was the slowest worker.
04-21-2012
Two evenings without internet access, the assholes having shut it down, and I couldn't get to the college's internet access yesterday, because the library closes early on Fridays. And we worked late to finish this dreamy block of vines, overlooking Lake Osooyos. Though steep, at 40%, and we were raking out the rows to ensure the prunings were in the middle to be chipped up by a flail mower.
Today, with the vineyard block next to Highway 98, S. of Oliver, the perps put on excessive numbers of motorcycles all day, at least 300 in dribs and drabs of two or three at a time, an equal number in each direction. And no less, putting at least one on top of a flatbed tow truck to thereby remove the motorcycle operation and rider from the total energetic analysis equation.
Now, they put the noise on here, all evening. There is no bike meet to account for so many, and it is still April and it cannot be tourist season yet. It is a Saturday, but surely this isn't going to be the norm? The perps have a consistent pattern of exploiting my ignorance of traffic patterns in cities that I don't know, e.g. Penticton where I am, and all other places in the Okanagan.
A severe vision attack while driving back from vineyard work, and I am still recovering some two hours later. The stinging eyes trick, often correlated to my use of sunblock, even if I put it below my eyes so it doesn't drip in from my forehead. First it was the L eye for 10 minutes of highway driving, then it was the R side when I reached downtown Penticton. My eyes were so red that I had to give doing errands after I dropped off my work colleague off. Then they arranged three young (about 12 yo.) girls to be running down the middle of the street and straight across a roundabout, one about to enter my exit path, and forcing me to stop, and then proceeding just as I was to proceed, and finally the kid had the sense to go behind the vehicle. I don't think I have seen anything so fucking blatant and organized as this before, but if nothing else, it is a stream of firsts for human strangeness.
04-22-2012
A day off work to attend to other perp staged "needs". First being to resume the tanning to keep myself ready for the blazing sunshine of this locale. Then to LD to get batteries for the remote key entry fobs for the vehicle, both running out at the same time and needing replacement. I got the size from the Toyota manual, and lo, if it wasn't wrong altogether, forcing me to get another battery, back to the LD store in the afternoon. Then out to get cleaning and wipers for the vehicle; vehicle windshield mess and wipers and their tracks are big Fuckover stages for harassment. Once I bought new wiper blades, and then a few days later I see it laying a track on the windshield, and on further inspection I see that the assholes had nicked the wiper blade so it missed some water as it passed by.
And senseless amounts of motorcycle noise, hotrod noise, and ill-maintained muffler noise all day today; 5 to 8x/minute, and somehow getting through my earmuffs as "needed" by the mind-keepers. This noise has been arranged for when I am out doing errands, or inside this motel suite that I rent by the month. If I don't like motorcycle noise, then why in the fuck is it a ten year noise obsession to arrange this everywhere I go?
Still no progress of a semi-permanent vineyard job; a sudden dry-up of only five in the last five weeks. This temporary gig is only because the Mexicans are late arriving, and we know who looks after these kinds of things. This is getting to piss me off considerably, as now that I have a vehicle, and vineyard work training, and no reason why I couldn't do such work, and yet no advertised jobs all of a sudden. That the national job bank went down for three weeks in late Febuary and early March didn't help either.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Everyone's Poodle
04-14-2012
A tiresome coffee with my farm-worker "pal" (who makes a great effort to be friendly with me), as in planted ditz, who acted even more ditzy today for some strange reason. As in more chirpy and superficial. And no less, at this coffee house on the trendy walking area, and I had my gangstalker color parade coming to visit me, plus people with dogs. One was a mid-gray standard poodle, and lo, if I didn't "happen" to drive there in my same gray colored vehicle. And lo, if I didn't once have a standard poodle, going back to the pre-Fuckover days of 1996 or so. The ex kept the dog, which was OK with me as I was travelling with my job at the time, and it died a few years ago, and she now has a replacement standard black poodle.
Then a "friend" of the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker "happened" to stop by, so we moved tables. The freakshow then re-assembled, taking turns, around my vacant seat. I also got more Unfavored freaks coming by; fat and disgusting "Gut Strut" males, skinheads on show, red hair, those ridiculous baggy shorts on men below their knees, and others that I am not allowed to recall at the moment. It didn't help that the perps kept me dumbed down and tongue tied for this coffee rendezvous. Which further heightened the question as to whether this Fat-Girl Farm-Worker "pal" isn't another Fat Girl of US national prominence in morphover, and who has figured in this harassment a number of times, and has even been seen on a few gangstalking events. I am not going to get into this particular aspect of the harassment and abuse any deeper, as it is already strange enough. Observant readers can make their own deductions.
And so the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker found a job in the last day, a needed antidote to nine months in horticulture school. And too, the employer didn't reveal what the pay rate was. Which is almost exactly what "happened" to me in the last two days; I get a temporary fill-in job at a vineyard, one I had interviewed at for a more senior job but was not offered it, and they don't tell me the pay both times. I have had these emails from the "Fat-Girl Farm-Worker" every week or so in the last three months I have been away in Penticton with "miss you" and like statements, which is suggesting future romantic intent (to me at least). Each time I have talked to her on the phone and in person, no such leading statements or intents are mentioned. In fact, I am more turned off in these direct encounters, like today. Not to mention that there isn't any attraction. And too, the harassment and abuse that I deal with is rarely mentioned, another example of someone with more detailed knowledge of my circumstances who is strangely lacking any curiosity. Not unlike the New York Times reporter I spoke with at least three years ago now, and detailed in a blog posting at the time.
And too, in keeping with the perps' games and props, the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker had to show me her bruise on her side she recieved from her Felco pruners, and giving me a look at this purple on white baggy skin (digusting) on her side midriff. She had just come from working at a plant sale, so I suppose she had absorbed "plant energies" which was similar to my prior morning, as I was slinging soil and treating plants too, at the First Feral Family house where I am temporarily residing. I go back to Penticton in two days, to start the vineyard job.
And too, the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker came with her tool belt and Felco pruners, the identical kind and model as my pair that I own. So she had to show me her pruners and her knife twice during coffee, when it was patently ridiculous to be even wearing these items at a trendy-buzzy coffee house.
Afterward, I drove back to the FFF house, and spent two hours power washing the rear patio surfaces. The perps like to often arrange this activity around me, and it was my turn again, having done the front yard driveway three days (or so) ago. And lo, if they didn't also have a neighbor start a power washing job only 100' away, to be somehow heard over the noise of the power washing I was making. The small black helicopter also came out to do a circuit overhead, and then a larger Sikorsky S-76 also came by later. There was STRATCOM B-52 noise as well, though I wasn't tuned in as much when I had the power washing noise in front of me.
And this morning, I got up early to get the compost slinging ready for tomorrow, which was when my perp-abetting mother returned from shopping, and she just had to lean on the compost bin with both hands as I was removing shovelfuls of it to place on an adjacent blue tarp . (Different levels of compost breakdown piles will be amalgamated into one pile tomorrow). It doesn't get any more obvious than that, someone leaning on something when they don't need to lean on it in the first place. Seen it many times, and all the more ridiculous when the perps have been hounding me for over five years over compost handling, and now have to make it (as in gangstalking) look so plain. That Ms. C of the story got her Master Composter training back in 1999 to 2000 surely wasn't a coincidence.
I am posting this tonight, as I will do a single post tomorrow, the 10th anniversary of when this fucking insane abuse began.
A tiresome coffee with my farm-worker "pal" (who makes a great effort to be friendly with me), as in planted ditz, who acted even more ditzy today for some strange reason. As in more chirpy and superficial. And no less, at this coffee house on the trendy walking area, and I had my gangstalker color parade coming to visit me, plus people with dogs. One was a mid-gray standard poodle, and lo, if I didn't "happen" to drive there in my same gray colored vehicle. And lo, if I didn't once have a standard poodle, going back to the pre-Fuckover days of 1996 or so. The ex kept the dog, which was OK with me as I was travelling with my job at the time, and it died a few years ago, and she now has a replacement standard black poodle.
Then a "friend" of the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker "happened" to stop by, so we moved tables. The freakshow then re-assembled, taking turns, around my vacant seat. I also got more Unfavored freaks coming by; fat and disgusting "Gut Strut" males, skinheads on show, red hair, those ridiculous baggy shorts on men below their knees, and others that I am not allowed to recall at the moment. It didn't help that the perps kept me dumbed down and tongue tied for this coffee rendezvous. Which further heightened the question as to whether this Fat-Girl Farm-Worker "pal" isn't another Fat Girl of US national prominence in morphover, and who has figured in this harassment a number of times, and has even been seen on a few gangstalking events. I am not going to get into this particular aspect of the harassment and abuse any deeper, as it is already strange enough. Observant readers can make their own deductions.
And so the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker found a job in the last day, a needed antidote to nine months in horticulture school. And too, the employer didn't reveal what the pay rate was. Which is almost exactly what "happened" to me in the last two days; I get a temporary fill-in job at a vineyard, one I had interviewed at for a more senior job but was not offered it, and they don't tell me the pay both times. I have had these emails from the "Fat-Girl Farm-Worker" every week or so in the last three months I have been away in Penticton with "miss you" and like statements, which is suggesting future romantic intent (to me at least). Each time I have talked to her on the phone and in person, no such leading statements or intents are mentioned. In fact, I am more turned off in these direct encounters, like today. Not to mention that there isn't any attraction. And too, the harassment and abuse that I deal with is rarely mentioned, another example of someone with more detailed knowledge of my circumstances who is strangely lacking any curiosity. Not unlike the New York Times reporter I spoke with at least three years ago now, and detailed in a blog posting at the time.
And too, in keeping with the perps' games and props, the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker had to show me her bruise on her side she recieved from her Felco pruners, and giving me a look at this purple on white baggy skin (digusting) on her side midriff. She had just come from working at a plant sale, so I suppose she had absorbed "plant energies" which was similar to my prior morning, as I was slinging soil and treating plants too, at the First Feral Family house where I am temporarily residing. I go back to Penticton in two days, to start the vineyard job.
And too, the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker came with her tool belt and Felco pruners, the identical kind and model as my pair that I own. So she had to show me her pruners and her knife twice during coffee, when it was patently ridiculous to be even wearing these items at a trendy-buzzy coffee house.
Afterward, I drove back to the FFF house, and spent two hours power washing the rear patio surfaces. The perps like to often arrange this activity around me, and it was my turn again, having done the front yard driveway three days (or so) ago. And lo, if they didn't also have a neighbor start a power washing job only 100' away, to be somehow heard over the noise of the power washing I was making. The small black helicopter also came out to do a circuit overhead, and then a larger Sikorsky S-76 also came by later. There was STRATCOM B-52 noise as well, though I wasn't tuned in as much when I had the power washing noise in front of me.
And this morning, I got up early to get the compost slinging ready for tomorrow, which was when my perp-abetting mother returned from shopping, and she just had to lean on the compost bin with both hands as I was removing shovelfuls of it to place on an adjacent blue tarp . (Different levels of compost breakdown piles will be amalgamated into one pile tomorrow). It doesn't get any more obvious than that, someone leaning on something when they don't need to lean on it in the first place. Seen it many times, and all the more ridiculous when the perps have been hounding me for over five years over compost handling, and now have to make it (as in gangstalking) look so plain. That Ms. C of the story got her Master Composter training back in 1999 to 2000 surely wasn't a coincidence.
I am posting this tonight, as I will do a single post tomorrow, the 10th anniversary of when this fucking insane abuse began.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Interview Games
04-10-2012
Interview games again; this time the prospective employer makes a near-impossible (to me, temporarily residing elsewhere) demand to interview me "tonight" or "tomorrow" when I am 400 miles away. Then when I reply that it could be the day after tomorrow, (to give me driving time to return), why, the prospective employer doesn't reply. This is at least the fifth such stunt, as I am going to call it, in the past two years, where they have an unerring knack for taking advantage when I am out of email contact or else cannot immediately respond because I needed to take the city bus. This time, I have a vehicle, and lo, if this bullshit doesn't erupt when I am out of town, but in email contact, and even with my USB drive with my resume at the ready.
The perps have rendered me flat broke yet again, and they still persist in screwing me around over getting a job. I got four years of farm work, I have three full-time months of viticulture training, so why is this so fucking difficult to get a vineyard job except by arranged adverse circumstances? Needless to say, the concept of employment, having it or not, and getting a job and the rest of it, is of intense perp interest. And recall last year's ridiculous group interview at a certain vineyard, and when hanging with the other prospective candidates afterward, I find I have the most farm work experience of all of them and I don't get hired.
And, the interview for the tractor operator I had two weeks ago, the first since 2000, I learn after the fact was even more bogus than I knew. My farm-worker "pal" told me they must mention the pay and the start date for it to be a serious consideration, and this was not mentioned. Add that on top of the owner's dismissal of an inexperienced candidate, and the interviewer arranging a locked tractor so I couldn't be tested on it, counts as another extremely perverse job hiring experience. Perhaps the perps are getting more nuanced about employment obstruction; from flat-out email obstruction so there is no interview, and now to constructive interview obstruction where it is a scripted, feigned and perverse (in hindsight, not being allowed to perceive such at the moment), jerk-around event.
I check my email, and the prospective employer (per above) says the job has been filled. In other words, the job was filled before the first suggested interview appointment time. (I asked for a day later). Never have I experienced so many unusual or bizarre behaviors around getting a job. From the past almost non-interview, just "when do you want to start" over the phone, (again, no mention of pay rate), to this bullshit when they filled the job before their suggested interview time. I have eliminated the jerk-around excuses by having a vehicle, and now the assholes are exploiting the fact that I don't have a cell phone for instant contact. That still doesn't cover the fact that the prospective employer didn't get back to me for 18 hours to confirm an interview time. He replied to my initial application in an hour though.
04-10-2012
Busy digging weeds, sowing grass seed, and transplanting; big neighborhood noise eruptions and even helicopters for the latter two activities. This at the First Feral Family (FFF) house, those perp abetting quisling family members who make no bones about where their loyalties lie.
My perp-abetting mother was doing her level best to criss-cross my path, or get in the way to where I wanted to go, arriving seconds ahead of me. Same deal in the kitchen these past 10 years, but now she is doing it in the backyard. Normally she takes off in the vehicle when I do landscape garden maintenance, but for some strange reason she was directed to dog me outside today.
04-11-2012
A persistent light rain, continuing on my way into downtown, while the vehicle was at the tire shop, and on the way back, and into the afternoon. And for me, a sign that the perps are putting extra resources to aid their human experimentation games. That they had me swimming on a fitness swim team for 13 years wasn't any fluke, and here they are, playing water games again.
New tires for my new-to-me vehicle, giving me 45 min. downtown. One stop was the bank, and getting my online credit card access resumed, and part of which involved this loopy phone conversation with an E. Indian; "Not logged out" means "logged in" to me, and when I asked what he meant, he comes up with a diversionary response, changing the topic altogether. Twice this occurred in the conversation at the bank counter, also revealing my personal information to all within earshot, (which included the brown overcoated vagrant act that tailed me inside). Afterward, the customer service person said "sorry for putting you through this ordeal". No private office with the cute babe this time, when they last screwed me out of having online credit card account access, and then again, by making me "forget" to use the 24hr password to reset it. Fucking bizarre.
I got a tank of gasoline for the vehicle on the way back, and only a moderate gangstalking posse around me, as it is the first time I have filled it up. Given the perp's obsessive use of petroleum tankers in the vehicular gangstalking milieu, and all other things of petroleum origin, I expected a full-on ambulatory and vehicular gangstalking, but it wasn't the case.
Then in-town brother arrives 10 seconds in the FFF house driveway after I do, in his silver grey truck with brown cardboard boxes in the box. Then he has be outside to look at the brown canvas tarps to the pile of weeds under them, that I want him to haul away. I call this "brown calibration".
In the afternoon, I was power washing the driveway, including where the vehicle sat with its new tires for a an hour or so, and then I parked on the grass boulevard to get it out of the way. All very exciting for the perps, shuffling vehicles around, and they do like to put a good power-washing show every so often.
Later, the vehicular gangstalking ramped up while I was under the front yard 8' wide pine hedge doing weeding, then helicopters too, and more aircraft noise from float-planes, and not more than a half dozen STRATCOM B-52's for a half day.
After that, four recycle garbage trucks lined up opposite the FFF house, end to end in front of a neighbor's house, some 100' away. They were buzzing around here all morning as it was pick-up day for the recycling, with one navy blue recycle truck doing five pass-bys for no seeming purpose after they first emptied the curbside bins. Later, a white recycle garbage truck of the same size with the assistant riding on the passenger side running board, the white garbage truck going at full-tilt in these suburban streets for no seeming purpose. Then in the four strong street-side line up, the first navy blue one departs, then the white one in position three, then the navy blue one in position two, and finally the last-most navy blue one. Who is the choreographer, and what is the purpose of this bizarre nonsense over arranging garbage trucks? (I have long pondered why garbage trucks are often used for vehicular gangstalking, which occur more than the redi-mix concrete trucks and petroleum tankers. Only the brown cardboard box packing parcel delivery trucks outnumber the garbage truck gangstalking).
04-12-2012
Leaf raking, tree pruning, some soil slinging, and some weeding today, all at the FFF house, and in plain view of my "new" vehicle, as it seems the perps like to have it sit there for days on end, unused, save going out for the above new tire set, and getting the front wheels aligned tomorrow.
The lawn cutters came today, adroitly timing their noise and activity when I was under the pine hedge in the front yard, getting the leaves out from under it, and cutting off branches that would trap the leaves, or else jab me in the back. And some weeding there too. The perps cannot get enough of me being under foliage, trees in particular. Regular readers will know that I worked in forestry for many years, and this too might of been perp managed to further their foliage/tree canopy fixation/human experimentation objectives. The perps also liked to have me take the red handled loppers with me as I went under the pine hedge, and then came out to re-enter between the next pair of pines to get the leaves out from under their boughs.
04-13-2012
A morning time attendance to administrative things, until in-town brother arrives to gawp at this very LCD display, seeming on a mission for the perps. I had just supplied my perp-abetting mother with the financial details of the next few months, as I am looking broke with a full year's income tax to pay by April 30. I give her the total needed for financial relief, and then she says she will give me a check, and that is exactly when in-town brother arrives "needing" to use the PC, and LCD display. Some kind of color/energy interaction and calibration it would seem, as this PC was only 8' away from where I finished up the prior financial discussions. Then he sits at this PC for at least 20 minutes, thereby squandering his opportunity to get my help to take away the large amount of weeding and gardening debris that has accumulated over the past week or so, all my weeding and landscape maintenance output, save that which is compostable.
I had to get to the Toyota dealer to get a wheel alignment after the new tires were installed two days ago, and was treated to large numbers of red gangstalking vehicles, sometimes 6 at a glance, and covering all four directions of travel, plus a few doing turns. Then they make me wait for no seeming reason at the Toyota dealership, busying themselves with their LCD displays, aka, color calibration games. And maybe to divert me from the the Fat Man who became my counter person. The appointment was for 1200h, just when they take a lunch break, the regular wheel alignment guy wasn't in for "some reason", and they would have to squeeze me in sometime in the afternoon. I was offered a postponement, and they can do it on Monday morning first thing, before I head off to a short term vineyard gig. And to top it off, they have a negro walk along the perimeter of the building I had just exited, doing some kind of negro-energy sweep immediately outside after my exit. I cannot count the times the perps arrange events to be repeated again, setting up these stunts to have me return; e.g., moldy yogurt last week, and a few others.
I phoned a potential employer this morning, having got an email from the college, and this was at the same winery where I had the strange interview for a tractor driver three weeks ago. (No mention of pay, or other compensation, and the tractor was locked so he couldn't test me out, and the interviewer talked most of the time, even subsequently after giving me airtime). It was a different person on the phone, and as they have a small crew, and their Mexican laborers haven't yet arrived, so they need some temporary help. I was promoting myself and the recent connection I had to this winery on the phone, and he was beating around the bush, not stating if he wanted me or not. Finally he said "when can you come", after I mentioned I was out of town at the moment, and that seemed to be his entree into hiring me. Still no mention of pay for crissakes, so the event of being hired is still under intense perp purview, as in adding FUD into the process. And as this is a short term job, it doesn't fulfill my need to get a longer term gig, so I can re-locate my residence near the job site, which I must do by the end of May. One step forward, and two back it would seem.
My return to weeding in the afternoon got me the black helicopter treatment, doing a few turns overhead; a Robinson 22 it would seem, one of my regular stalking helicopters in this region. The usual barrage of lawnmower noise followed, this time appropriate for the sunny weather, unlike yesterday when they put it on during the rain.
This landscaping at the FFF house for the past two weeks has had me often using a wheelbarrow. And a piss poor one at that, with the tire deflating and staying that way. I have been looking for a flat-free tire of the appropriate size, and I am close to ordering one. But I did find it most odd that the perps have arranged plenty of wheelbarrows for me to see en-route when out driving for the futile vehicle maintenance as mentioned above. Yet again, the perps are going extra berserk over tires, rubber and wheels. The tire ads have been cranked up for the limited TV I see. That and the W*t airlines ads, as I "happened" to take one of their flights Mar. 31, almost two weeks ago. What are the perps on about, in repeatedly showing me reminders of what I am involved in or recently traveled by? And if the world is governed by the perps as much as I am coming to think, why, they pulled a nice stunt, hitting a Victoria-bound W*t flight with a bolt of lightning, thankfully to no adverse affect besides scaring all passengers and crew momentarily witless. The Fourth Reich is run by juveniles, didn't you know?
A phone interruption by the bleating in-town brother and his tired lines about not having enough time to get the pile of weeds pulled etc. and me reminding him that he had me available today, except he was online, and wouldn't even give me his van keys so I could get his vehicle positioned for pulling the load of weeds into the van's cargo bay. Same prattle, and in keeping with the perp's insane obsession over the word "time" and all that it may suggest, or mean.
On that tiresome note, I will post this and call it done for the week, even if two more full days at the FFF house doing more landscaping maintenance work. (I also got extra noise attention when I fertilized some of the plants, and even the neighbors got chatty, he in a shock of white hair, with a white bandage across his forehead. And how many times have the perps put brown band-aids on their shills and operatives? I have lost track).
Interview games again; this time the prospective employer makes a near-impossible (to me, temporarily residing elsewhere) demand to interview me "tonight" or "tomorrow" when I am 400 miles away. Then when I reply that it could be the day after tomorrow, (to give me driving time to return), why, the prospective employer doesn't reply. This is at least the fifth such stunt, as I am going to call it, in the past two years, where they have an unerring knack for taking advantage when I am out of email contact or else cannot immediately respond because I needed to take the city bus. This time, I have a vehicle, and lo, if this bullshit doesn't erupt when I am out of town, but in email contact, and even with my USB drive with my resume at the ready.
The perps have rendered me flat broke yet again, and they still persist in screwing me around over getting a job. I got four years of farm work, I have three full-time months of viticulture training, so why is this so fucking difficult to get a vineyard job except by arranged adverse circumstances? Needless to say, the concept of employment, having it or not, and getting a job and the rest of it, is of intense perp interest. And recall last year's ridiculous group interview at a certain vineyard, and when hanging with the other prospective candidates afterward, I find I have the most farm work experience of all of them and I don't get hired.
And, the interview for the tractor operator I had two weeks ago, the first since 2000, I learn after the fact was even more bogus than I knew. My farm-worker "pal" told me they must mention the pay and the start date for it to be a serious consideration, and this was not mentioned. Add that on top of the owner's dismissal of an inexperienced candidate, and the interviewer arranging a locked tractor so I couldn't be tested on it, counts as another extremely perverse job hiring experience. Perhaps the perps are getting more nuanced about employment obstruction; from flat-out email obstruction so there is no interview, and now to constructive interview obstruction where it is a scripted, feigned and perverse (in hindsight, not being allowed to perceive such at the moment), jerk-around event.
I check my email, and the prospective employer (per above) says the job has been filled. In other words, the job was filled before the first suggested interview appointment time. (I asked for a day later). Never have I experienced so many unusual or bizarre behaviors around getting a job. From the past almost non-interview, just "when do you want to start" over the phone, (again, no mention of pay rate), to this bullshit when they filled the job before their suggested interview time. I have eliminated the jerk-around excuses by having a vehicle, and now the assholes are exploiting the fact that I don't have a cell phone for instant contact. That still doesn't cover the fact that the prospective employer didn't get back to me for 18 hours to confirm an interview time. He replied to my initial application in an hour though.
04-10-2012
Busy digging weeds, sowing grass seed, and transplanting; big neighborhood noise eruptions and even helicopters for the latter two activities. This at the First Feral Family (FFF) house, those perp abetting quisling family members who make no bones about where their loyalties lie.
My perp-abetting mother was doing her level best to criss-cross my path, or get in the way to where I wanted to go, arriving seconds ahead of me. Same deal in the kitchen these past 10 years, but now she is doing it in the backyard. Normally she takes off in the vehicle when I do landscape garden maintenance, but for some strange reason she was directed to dog me outside today.
04-11-2012
A persistent light rain, continuing on my way into downtown, while the vehicle was at the tire shop, and on the way back, and into the afternoon. And for me, a sign that the perps are putting extra resources to aid their human experimentation games. That they had me swimming on a fitness swim team for 13 years wasn't any fluke, and here they are, playing water games again.
New tires for my new-to-me vehicle, giving me 45 min. downtown. One stop was the bank, and getting my online credit card access resumed, and part of which involved this loopy phone conversation with an E. Indian; "Not logged out" means "logged in" to me, and when I asked what he meant, he comes up with a diversionary response, changing the topic altogether. Twice this occurred in the conversation at the bank counter, also revealing my personal information to all within earshot, (which included the brown overcoated vagrant act that tailed me inside). Afterward, the customer service person said "sorry for putting you through this ordeal". No private office with the cute babe this time, when they last screwed me out of having online credit card account access, and then again, by making me "forget" to use the 24hr password to reset it. Fucking bizarre.
I got a tank of gasoline for the vehicle on the way back, and only a moderate gangstalking posse around me, as it is the first time I have filled it up. Given the perp's obsessive use of petroleum tankers in the vehicular gangstalking milieu, and all other things of petroleum origin, I expected a full-on ambulatory and vehicular gangstalking, but it wasn't the case.
Then in-town brother arrives 10 seconds in the FFF house driveway after I do, in his silver grey truck with brown cardboard boxes in the box. Then he has be outside to look at the brown canvas tarps to the pile of weeds under them, that I want him to haul away. I call this "brown calibration".
In the afternoon, I was power washing the driveway, including where the vehicle sat with its new tires for a an hour or so, and then I parked on the grass boulevard to get it out of the way. All very exciting for the perps, shuffling vehicles around, and they do like to put a good power-washing show every so often.
Later, the vehicular gangstalking ramped up while I was under the front yard 8' wide pine hedge doing weeding, then helicopters too, and more aircraft noise from float-planes, and not more than a half dozen STRATCOM B-52's for a half day.
After that, four recycle garbage trucks lined up opposite the FFF house, end to end in front of a neighbor's house, some 100' away. They were buzzing around here all morning as it was pick-up day for the recycling, with one navy blue recycle truck doing five pass-bys for no seeming purpose after they first emptied the curbside bins. Later, a white recycle garbage truck of the same size with the assistant riding on the passenger side running board, the white garbage truck going at full-tilt in these suburban streets for no seeming purpose. Then in the four strong street-side line up, the first navy blue one departs, then the white one in position three, then the navy blue one in position two, and finally the last-most navy blue one. Who is the choreographer, and what is the purpose of this bizarre nonsense over arranging garbage trucks? (I have long pondered why garbage trucks are often used for vehicular gangstalking, which occur more than the redi-mix concrete trucks and petroleum tankers. Only the brown cardboard box packing parcel delivery trucks outnumber the garbage truck gangstalking).
04-12-2012
Leaf raking, tree pruning, some soil slinging, and some weeding today, all at the FFF house, and in plain view of my "new" vehicle, as it seems the perps like to have it sit there for days on end, unused, save going out for the above new tire set, and getting the front wheels aligned tomorrow.
The lawn cutters came today, adroitly timing their noise and activity when I was under the pine hedge in the front yard, getting the leaves out from under it, and cutting off branches that would trap the leaves, or else jab me in the back. And some weeding there too. The perps cannot get enough of me being under foliage, trees in particular. Regular readers will know that I worked in forestry for many years, and this too might of been perp managed to further their foliage/tree canopy fixation/human experimentation objectives. The perps also liked to have me take the red handled loppers with me as I went under the pine hedge, and then came out to re-enter between the next pair of pines to get the leaves out from under their boughs.
04-13-2012
A morning time attendance to administrative things, until in-town brother arrives to gawp at this very LCD display, seeming on a mission for the perps. I had just supplied my perp-abetting mother with the financial details of the next few months, as I am looking broke with a full year's income tax to pay by April 30. I give her the total needed for financial relief, and then she says she will give me a check, and that is exactly when in-town brother arrives "needing" to use the PC, and LCD display. Some kind of color/energy interaction and calibration it would seem, as this PC was only 8' away from where I finished up the prior financial discussions. Then he sits at this PC for at least 20 minutes, thereby squandering his opportunity to get my help to take away the large amount of weeding and gardening debris that has accumulated over the past week or so, all my weeding and landscape maintenance output, save that which is compostable.
I had to get to the Toyota dealer to get a wheel alignment after the new tires were installed two days ago, and was treated to large numbers of red gangstalking vehicles, sometimes 6 at a glance, and covering all four directions of travel, plus a few doing turns. Then they make me wait for no seeming reason at the Toyota dealership, busying themselves with their LCD displays, aka, color calibration games. And maybe to divert me from the the Fat Man who became my counter person. The appointment was for 1200h, just when they take a lunch break, the regular wheel alignment guy wasn't in for "some reason", and they would have to squeeze me in sometime in the afternoon. I was offered a postponement, and they can do it on Monday morning first thing, before I head off to a short term vineyard gig. And to top it off, they have a negro walk along the perimeter of the building I had just exited, doing some kind of negro-energy sweep immediately outside after my exit. I cannot count the times the perps arrange events to be repeated again, setting up these stunts to have me return; e.g., moldy yogurt last week, and a few others.
I phoned a potential employer this morning, having got an email from the college, and this was at the same winery where I had the strange interview for a tractor driver three weeks ago. (No mention of pay, or other compensation, and the tractor was locked so he couldn't test me out, and the interviewer talked most of the time, even subsequently after giving me airtime). It was a different person on the phone, and as they have a small crew, and their Mexican laborers haven't yet arrived, so they need some temporary help. I was promoting myself and the recent connection I had to this winery on the phone, and he was beating around the bush, not stating if he wanted me or not. Finally he said "when can you come", after I mentioned I was out of town at the moment, and that seemed to be his entree into hiring me. Still no mention of pay for crissakes, so the event of being hired is still under intense perp purview, as in adding FUD into the process. And as this is a short term job, it doesn't fulfill my need to get a longer term gig, so I can re-locate my residence near the job site, which I must do by the end of May. One step forward, and two back it would seem.
My return to weeding in the afternoon got me the black helicopter treatment, doing a few turns overhead; a Robinson 22 it would seem, one of my regular stalking helicopters in this region. The usual barrage of lawnmower noise followed, this time appropriate for the sunny weather, unlike yesterday when they put it on during the rain.
This landscaping at the FFF house for the past two weeks has had me often using a wheelbarrow. And a piss poor one at that, with the tire deflating and staying that way. I have been looking for a flat-free tire of the appropriate size, and I am close to ordering one. But I did find it most odd that the perps have arranged plenty of wheelbarrows for me to see en-route when out driving for the futile vehicle maintenance as mentioned above. Yet again, the perps are going extra berserk over tires, rubber and wheels. The tire ads have been cranked up for the limited TV I see. That and the W*t airlines ads, as I "happened" to take one of their flights Mar. 31, almost two weeks ago. What are the perps on about, in repeatedly showing me reminders of what I am involved in or recently traveled by? And if the world is governed by the perps as much as I am coming to think, why, they pulled a nice stunt, hitting a Victoria-bound W*t flight with a bolt of lightning, thankfully to no adverse affect besides scaring all passengers and crew momentarily witless. The Fourth Reich is run by juveniles, didn't you know?
A phone interruption by the bleating in-town brother and his tired lines about not having enough time to get the pile of weeds pulled etc. and me reminding him that he had me available today, except he was online, and wouldn't even give me his van keys so I could get his vehicle positioned for pulling the load of weeds into the van's cargo bay. Same prattle, and in keeping with the perp's insane obsession over the word "time" and all that it may suggest, or mean.
On that tiresome note, I will post this and call it done for the week, even if two more full days at the FFF house doing more landscaping maintenance work. (I also got extra noise attention when I fertilized some of the plants, and even the neighbors got chatty, he in a shock of white hair, with a white bandage across his forehead. And how many times have the perps put brown band-aids on their shills and operatives? I have lost track).
Sunday, April 08, 2012
New Vehicle
04-05-2012
Much intensified vehicular gangstalking today, not to mention the Fuckwit dude who tailed me from 12" behind me going out of the bank with the certified check in hand, and when I increased my pace, the asshole did too. It doesn't get any more fucking obvious than that. And as regular readers will know, I get hounded, harassed, and otherwise fucked with every financial transaction I make, from coin-op laundry machines, bus fare and everything on up. As I haven't purchased a vehicle since 1992, the assholes have gone extra beserk because this is a relatively rare event for me, being kept in penury as I am. That is, made to do farm work for minimum wage rates, and only seasonal jobs at that. But as my perp-abetting mother is giving me the money to get a vehicle, so off we go, looking for farm work, hopefully vineyard work, having spent three months taking viticulture classes, and somehow not getting a job when other classmates did when I had four years of farmwork experience. (They had none).
And to no surprise, the vehicle color is in keeping with the perp's ongoing obsession over in keeping me around greyscale colors, a metallic mid-grey instead of silver-grey of the last vehicle I owned until 2006. Not that my earning power is greater, but the prospects are, or at least, I hope. So vehicle ownership was forbidden for six years, and now they up the grey color content to play whatever fucking games they do. I cannot imagine the extensive perp machinations that must of gone on for the past six years for them to now allow victim vehicle (me) ownership again. They must be confident about something. But, it seems we are far from done, as is abusive harassment from the Fourth Reich.
And extra clusters of the reds, as in red colored vehicles since arriving back in the Gangstalking Capital of Canada, Victoria, British Columbia, a week ago, on 03-31-2012. Sometimes four identical red colored vehicles in file, or in clusters of 2x2, or else in more converging games, three arriving from different directions and crossing paths. It has been going on every day, almost every intersection.
And today was so special for the perps they even arranged me to have my mouth agape for an hour, getting my teeth professionally cleaned, and then having the dentist also go over my teeth too. Much touching of course, and much listening to the female dental hygeinist's nattering, though I could not reply anywhere as near as I would of had her tools not been in my mouth. She with a face mask on all the time, in professional keeping with her vocation.
Not forgetting, another very big day in perp fuckery, Sept. 11, 2001; they also had arranged a dental appointment that day too. I was phoned and told not to come to work (in a tall building in Seattle), and later drove up the I5 to Everett to get my teeth cleaned that day. I returned to Seattle to hang with my then girlfriend for the evening, watching and commenting on the tragic news that day. Interesting too, the day of the Nisqually Earthquake in Seattle, I was on the phone to the same dentist office in Everett. Enough of the conspiratorial insinuations, but if you follow this blog, you will know that there are absolutely NO coincidences in my life given the gangstalking and harassment coverage I get.
And too, car ownership was concluded in protracted fashion, though over one day. A morning time trip to a truck mechanic's place for them to check it over, and waiting and then talking to them over 1.5 hours. Then it was too late to conclude the vehicle purchase deal, so off to the dentist's, per above. Then a social coffee with my homely Fat Girl farm worker colleague who has an unerring ability to show up for big perp events, (e.g. last year's negro gangstalking at the daffodil farm). I had to eat by then, as the dentist appointment was at noon, so just after 30 min. of flouride treatment, why, a brown nut bar with my dark brown coffee. The afternoon coffee was on the balcony of a buzzy part of town, and lo, if the freak parade wasn't on show; red-headeds, redcoats, skinhead, dudes smiling to themselves at length and even the odd babe to heighten my attention. The balcony was mostly empty, but was slowly filled in by other Unfavoreds, and they even triple-shifted the one table with Fuckwit Unfavoreds that was directly aligned behind my farmworker "pal". Also, the dude banter around me slowly ramped up. After 40 minutes or so, it was off to conclude the deal, though that took some extra time, as "somehow", the insurance agent's computer locked up and I had to re-register, providing the same information again, at the next desk with another homely woman. Battle of the homely women it seemed, once the talkative, attractive, blonde, Galician dental hygienist was done with me, per above.
04-08-2012
Much to do at the First Feral Family house; weeding and otherwise cutting or perturbing plant material is always a big deal for the perps, and of course, running after me with landscape and horticulture vehicles with loads of cut plant material in a pickup box or trailer. This was evident from the very start, going back to April 2002, and here they are still at it.
And too, the neighborhood noise cranks up when I am out weeding at the FFF house; lawnmower noise, STRATCOM (B-52) overflights (3/hour or more), floatplane aircraft and only a few helicopters. Not to mention kiddies playing and screaming next door, leafblower whine (vortex forces) etc. When in the front yard, why, the pit-lamping headlights start up, the loud mufflered vehicles careen around the bend outside, (how did that "happen", being on a bend, surely the perps' most favorite place along with turning corners to up the harassment noise/activity?), and even a stop-by from a former neighbor. He stopped by me as I was pulling dandelions from the lawn outside, called me by my name, and I had no idea who was in this silver pickup truck. I approached the vehicle, and he called out his name, and at once I knew this person as a former neighbor. He was about four years older than me back in my high school days, and already had launched himself into the military, or maybe it was the reserves. About five years later, when on a forestry crew, we stopped by at another crew we did not know, and lo, he was there. He spent his career in the Ministry of Forests, though I never encountered him there for the 15 years I worked there. We exchanged updates on where we were in life/careers; I mentioned that "externally imposed forces" drove me out of employment when in It in Seattle, and he looked at me, widening his eyes, as if he didn't know. And per usual, he didn't ask, thereby aligning himself with the Psychopathic Fourth Reich (aka perps), who uniformly have everyone I encounter, save a few, who don't ask much about the harassment hints that I drop. They just don't want to know, play dumb, or even as in the case of at least six 1979 forestry college classmates, look at me, or look the other way (in public), and don't appear to have changed their appearance any more than five years since graduation.
As for me, going back to the neighborhood stop-by mentioned above, I never would of recognized him, as I last saw him in 1980 or so, and here he was in short white hair, puffy faced and that typical 60's y.o. look. As indicated above, no one mentions the obvious, that I look 40 at the most though some lines under my eyes came out about two years ago, and I know for sure they came in when I was 33 or so. So, again, the most obvious thing is that I have had age regression applied to me, and yet no one mentions a thing, not even family, nor those who (apparently) haven't seen me for over 30 years. Go figure.
A screwover in the morning, awakening late, and getting stiffed for a 10 hour sleep when I didn't need it. This caused the morning's activities to be delayed, and that meant visiting a certain specialty tool shop that has become a favorite gangstalking setup. And with my perp-abetting mother accompanying me, it was an all out vehicular swarm on a Easter Saturday at 1030h, and lo, if there wasn't a full house of gangstalking Fuckwits in place in the store when we arrived. The gut strut, the rabelous dude, the big hat, the Fat Girls, the kinky haired, the red-headed, brown skinned and others of the Unfavored tailed my ass back and forth and sideways. Curiously, they didn't swarm the single take-a-number queue, which is what they usually do there, even with half as many gangstalking personnel in place. Naturally, in this abusive, traumatic and unconventionally curcumscribed existence, extra noise and activity around me while undertaking a financial transaction was part of this particular Fuckover experience.
One of the big deals was to set me up to look at landscape fabric in the roll, as it "somehow" wasn't on display, and when brought from the stockroom, why, my mother decided she didn't need it. That was the only item of hers on the shopping list, the rest were mine, and that included two configurations of the sub-micron carbide blade sharpeners from the same company. These are the latest in knife and blade sharpening, as they scrape the steel off to sharpen the blade, rather than abrade it with ceramic or diamond stones/files. And I have mentioned many times that the perps have an insane obsession over blade and steel edge sharpening, so this is just the latest installment. The prior installment was back in 10-2011 when they had me purchase three grades of 3x8" diamond honing stones, and to date, I haven't used them. They were kept in a PVC plastic case with foam padding that I also had to get at the same specialty tool store, and have been sitting in my mother's crawl space along with the belongings that I did not take to Penticton in January to start the vititculture course.
The perp's obsession over steel, metals, sharpening, abrading edges, planing wood with steel blades, rotary steel cutting tools and down to the cutlery that I use is most persistent as it is curious. Naturally, at this FFF house, I use the cutlery, and it is a polyglot of silver plated, stainless steel and other steels that serves to offer them a huge variety of metal-food-human interaction that they so desperately experiment with all the time. Naturally, sharpening my mother's knives yesterday for the first time in years, (some of them), was a big deal, replete with STRATCOM B-52 noise that somehow crept inside, along with my mother doing concurrent plastic bag rustling that is also another insane perp hallmark.
And strange impositions since I got here last week, on the shaving front. Suddenly, I didn't have a "need" to do my usual full frontal shave each morning, and after four mornings, I was allowed to do a never-before half torso shave. Then today, three days later, I was allowed to do the bottom half with a new razor insert. Don't ask me why the perps are so freaking nuts over me shaving, but that is the way it has been for almost ten years, which includes forcing me to not shave some mornings, like before yesterday's trip to the specialty tool store. I suspect that dragging the teflon rub strip on the razor blade insert is part of their insane fuckery, as there are no end of Gortex anorak gangstalkers about, and Gortex is a teflon membrane. Go figure. That, and the back, ass and legs waxing job I "needed", 04-03-2012 as a seeming warm-up to the vehicle purchase, 04-05-2012.
I will post this now, in keeping with the weekly format, and it seems this current FFF -Victoria pattern will continue for at least five more days before I head back to vineyard country.
Much intensified vehicular gangstalking today, not to mention the Fuckwit dude who tailed me from 12" behind me going out of the bank with the certified check in hand, and when I increased my pace, the asshole did too. It doesn't get any more fucking obvious than that. And as regular readers will know, I get hounded, harassed, and otherwise fucked with every financial transaction I make, from coin-op laundry machines, bus fare and everything on up. As I haven't purchased a vehicle since 1992, the assholes have gone extra beserk because this is a relatively rare event for me, being kept in penury as I am. That is, made to do farm work for minimum wage rates, and only seasonal jobs at that. But as my perp-abetting mother is giving me the money to get a vehicle, so off we go, looking for farm work, hopefully vineyard work, having spent three months taking viticulture classes, and somehow not getting a job when other classmates did when I had four years of farmwork experience. (They had none).
And to no surprise, the vehicle color is in keeping with the perp's ongoing obsession over in keeping me around greyscale colors, a metallic mid-grey instead of silver-grey of the last vehicle I owned until 2006. Not that my earning power is greater, but the prospects are, or at least, I hope. So vehicle ownership was forbidden for six years, and now they up the grey color content to play whatever fucking games they do. I cannot imagine the extensive perp machinations that must of gone on for the past six years for them to now allow victim vehicle (me) ownership again. They must be confident about something. But, it seems we are far from done, as is abusive harassment from the Fourth Reich.
And extra clusters of the reds, as in red colored vehicles since arriving back in the Gangstalking Capital of Canada, Victoria, British Columbia, a week ago, on 03-31-2012. Sometimes four identical red colored vehicles in file, or in clusters of 2x2, or else in more converging games, three arriving from different directions and crossing paths. It has been going on every day, almost every intersection.
And today was so special for the perps they even arranged me to have my mouth agape for an hour, getting my teeth professionally cleaned, and then having the dentist also go over my teeth too. Much touching of course, and much listening to the female dental hygeinist's nattering, though I could not reply anywhere as near as I would of had her tools not been in my mouth. She with a face mask on all the time, in professional keeping with her vocation.
Not forgetting, another very big day in perp fuckery, Sept. 11, 2001; they also had arranged a dental appointment that day too. I was phoned and told not to come to work (in a tall building in Seattle), and later drove up the I5 to Everett to get my teeth cleaned that day. I returned to Seattle to hang with my then girlfriend for the evening, watching and commenting on the tragic news that day. Interesting too, the day of the Nisqually Earthquake in Seattle, I was on the phone to the same dentist office in Everett. Enough of the conspiratorial insinuations, but if you follow this blog, you will know that there are absolutely NO coincidences in my life given the gangstalking and harassment coverage I get.
And too, car ownership was concluded in protracted fashion, though over one day. A morning time trip to a truck mechanic's place for them to check it over, and waiting and then talking to them over 1.5 hours. Then it was too late to conclude the vehicle purchase deal, so off to the dentist's, per above. Then a social coffee with my homely Fat Girl farm worker colleague who has an unerring ability to show up for big perp events, (e.g. last year's negro gangstalking at the daffodil farm). I had to eat by then, as the dentist appointment was at noon, so just after 30 min. of flouride treatment, why, a brown nut bar with my dark brown coffee. The afternoon coffee was on the balcony of a buzzy part of town, and lo, if the freak parade wasn't on show; red-headeds, redcoats, skinhead, dudes smiling to themselves at length and even the odd babe to heighten my attention. The balcony was mostly empty, but was slowly filled in by other Unfavoreds, and they even triple-shifted the one table with Fuckwit Unfavoreds that was directly aligned behind my farmworker "pal". Also, the dude banter around me slowly ramped up. After 40 minutes or so, it was off to conclude the deal, though that took some extra time, as "somehow", the insurance agent's computer locked up and I had to re-register, providing the same information again, at the next desk with another homely woman. Battle of the homely women it seemed, once the talkative, attractive, blonde, Galician dental hygienist was done with me, per above.
04-08-2012
Much to do at the First Feral Family house; weeding and otherwise cutting or perturbing plant material is always a big deal for the perps, and of course, running after me with landscape and horticulture vehicles with loads of cut plant material in a pickup box or trailer. This was evident from the very start, going back to April 2002, and here they are still at it.
And too, the neighborhood noise cranks up when I am out weeding at the FFF house; lawnmower noise, STRATCOM (B-52) overflights (3/hour or more), floatplane aircraft and only a few helicopters. Not to mention kiddies playing and screaming next door, leafblower whine (vortex forces) etc. When in the front yard, why, the pit-lamping headlights start up, the loud mufflered vehicles careen around the bend outside, (how did that "happen", being on a bend, surely the perps' most favorite place along with turning corners to up the harassment noise/activity?), and even a stop-by from a former neighbor. He stopped by me as I was pulling dandelions from the lawn outside, called me by my name, and I had no idea who was in this silver pickup truck. I approached the vehicle, and he called out his name, and at once I knew this person as a former neighbor. He was about four years older than me back in my high school days, and already had launched himself into the military, or maybe it was the reserves. About five years later, when on a forestry crew, we stopped by at another crew we did not know, and lo, he was there. He spent his career in the Ministry of Forests, though I never encountered him there for the 15 years I worked there. We exchanged updates on where we were in life/careers; I mentioned that "externally imposed forces" drove me out of employment when in It in Seattle, and he looked at me, widening his eyes, as if he didn't know. And per usual, he didn't ask, thereby aligning himself with the Psychopathic Fourth Reich (aka perps), who uniformly have everyone I encounter, save a few, who don't ask much about the harassment hints that I drop. They just don't want to know, play dumb, or even as in the case of at least six 1979 forestry college classmates, look at me, or look the other way (in public), and don't appear to have changed their appearance any more than five years since graduation.
As for me, going back to the neighborhood stop-by mentioned above, I never would of recognized him, as I last saw him in 1980 or so, and here he was in short white hair, puffy faced and that typical 60's y.o. look. As indicated above, no one mentions the obvious, that I look 40 at the most though some lines under my eyes came out about two years ago, and I know for sure they came in when I was 33 or so. So, again, the most obvious thing is that I have had age regression applied to me, and yet no one mentions a thing, not even family, nor those who (apparently) haven't seen me for over 30 years. Go figure.
A screwover in the morning, awakening late, and getting stiffed for a 10 hour sleep when I didn't need it. This caused the morning's activities to be delayed, and that meant visiting a certain specialty tool shop that has become a favorite gangstalking setup. And with my perp-abetting mother accompanying me, it was an all out vehicular swarm on a Easter Saturday at 1030h, and lo, if there wasn't a full house of gangstalking Fuckwits in place in the store when we arrived. The gut strut, the rabelous dude, the big hat, the Fat Girls, the kinky haired, the red-headed, brown skinned and others of the Unfavored tailed my ass back and forth and sideways. Curiously, they didn't swarm the single take-a-number queue, which is what they usually do there, even with half as many gangstalking personnel in place. Naturally, in this abusive, traumatic and unconventionally curcumscribed existence, extra noise and activity around me while undertaking a financial transaction was part of this particular Fuckover experience.
One of the big deals was to set me up to look at landscape fabric in the roll, as it "somehow" wasn't on display, and when brought from the stockroom, why, my mother decided she didn't need it. That was the only item of hers on the shopping list, the rest were mine, and that included two configurations of the sub-micron carbide blade sharpeners from the same company. These are the latest in knife and blade sharpening, as they scrape the steel off to sharpen the blade, rather than abrade it with ceramic or diamond stones/files. And I have mentioned many times that the perps have an insane obsession over blade and steel edge sharpening, so this is just the latest installment. The prior installment was back in 10-2011 when they had me purchase three grades of 3x8" diamond honing stones, and to date, I haven't used them. They were kept in a PVC plastic case with foam padding that I also had to get at the same specialty tool store, and have been sitting in my mother's crawl space along with the belongings that I did not take to Penticton in January to start the vititculture course.
The perp's obsession over steel, metals, sharpening, abrading edges, planing wood with steel blades, rotary steel cutting tools and down to the cutlery that I use is most persistent as it is curious. Naturally, at this FFF house, I use the cutlery, and it is a polyglot of silver plated, stainless steel and other steels that serves to offer them a huge variety of metal-food-human interaction that they so desperately experiment with all the time. Naturally, sharpening my mother's knives yesterday for the first time in years, (some of them), was a big deal, replete with STRATCOM B-52 noise that somehow crept inside, along with my mother doing concurrent plastic bag rustling that is also another insane perp hallmark.
And strange impositions since I got here last week, on the shaving front. Suddenly, I didn't have a "need" to do my usual full frontal shave each morning, and after four mornings, I was allowed to do a never-before half torso shave. Then today, three days later, I was allowed to do the bottom half with a new razor insert. Don't ask me why the perps are so freaking nuts over me shaving, but that is the way it has been for almost ten years, which includes forcing me to not shave some mornings, like before yesterday's trip to the specialty tool store. I suspect that dragging the teflon rub strip on the razor blade insert is part of their insane fuckery, as there are no end of Gortex anorak gangstalkers about, and Gortex is a teflon membrane. Go figure. That, and the back, ass and legs waxing job I "needed", 04-03-2012 as a seeming warm-up to the vehicle purchase, 04-05-2012.
I will post this now, in keeping with the weekly format, and it seems this current FFF -Victoria pattern will continue for at least five more days before I head back to vineyard country.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)