Sunday, November 25, 2012

Staged Micromangement

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shall post this before the weekend is over.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Monday Off

Rare to have a weekday off, and I will have two this week. Today, because it was lieu of a national holiday, Remembrance Day yesterday, and with the broad hint from work was that it was a day off. Though that never stopped us from working statutory holidays in the vineyard in the summer.

And so, they pulled a snowfall overnight, with me as the obligate driveway shoveller until I depart this rental situation at month's end. The landlady returned last night too, from her near week long time away, and she retrieved the snow shovels from the garden shed last night. (And got into some emotional wrangling with her elderly mother yet again, though it lasted only a few minutes. I get to hear way too much living downstairs at grade level.)

Even more curious was that I got up at 0800h, and neither was up until at least 1000h, after I had cleared the driveway and come back in. Only two days ago, the granny was getting up at 0600h on her own (before the caretakers arrived), coincident with me, and then again the next day at 0700h. Anyhow, the overhead "coincidences" and then their sudden cessation aren't anything new, but I always like to map it to some kind of other event the perps find interesting; e.g. moon cycles, work schedule change, new package of coffee (think brown), or whatever else turns their collectively insane crank.

And it might of been the bloody mess on the pillow case the perps decided to create; it is rare I get this form of invasive abuse, but it has been ramping up in the last week, only  from nasal build up though. That begat laundering all the bedsheets, two white striated sheets and the pillow case, while I was out shovelling snow. Color continuity? -maybe. Then the pillow case didn't come clean and had to be relaundered and hang dried, giving it a different signature from the bedsheets; no doubt of exciting perp interest to change up the laundered item history.

A "need" to then continue this tanning obsession planted on me, as I really couldn't care less until doing outside farm work in 2008. The shiftless males duly arrived after me, and then when making my exit. The very cute new salon attendant was on duty again, and she seems to be a planted distraction to say the least.

Then onto the LD store where they packed the parking lot three ranks deep, almost exclusively greyscale colored vehicles; white, silver-grey, mid-grey and black. I don't think I have seen such a concentration of this color theme before, save the the line-ups at the ferry parking lot, as past photos can attest.

Again, the shiftless males arrive after me at the checkout, the fuchsia haired girl was in the next checkout, and the sheepdog haired young male cashier was unusually chipper. Most often I get grim, and very grim (as in scared shitless) at checkouts.

A putz day at work, as the co-owner was out most of the day. The winemaking isn't too demanding of late, which I told them, though I am sure the perps made sure it was known as well.

Though the perps made it interesting by have a floating lid gasket, much like an inner tube, blow up and scatter two cups of cider just where I was about to resume working on insulating the garage door. Not only did I get put through the wrangling adversity to get the spare one on and centered in the track of the lid, but I also had to clean up the mess.

And this was a repeat of this morning, when moving the transfer pump out of the way, why it dumped at least a liter of water on the floor, again, just where I was to work. That had to be cleaned up too. There have been times when I have seen wet splats arrive from nowhere, just where I have mopped up. Nothing new in these water mess games.

When I got back to this residence, why, the code wouldn't work in the outside door. I tried the alternate door and lo, it didn't work either. I rang the bell at the landlady's door, and eventually her 90 yo. mother slowly descended the stairs. I explained the problem, and the (obese, almost grotesque) landlady came down and told me she reset her codes, but no other, but "somehow" my keycode got deleted. She said she would fix the problem and would meet me at the door. And so she had to get her keycode, and ask me mine, and reset them. (I haven't tried it yet).

When I got in I saw she left a note earlier about a parcel in the shared laundry area. I retrieved it and opened it up and looked at all the tool and gift items I had ordered. Then once I looked at them all, a sudden need to take a shit came on, and I had to deal with that. No toilet blocking stunts thankfully. And so it would seem this whole fucking charade was to have me go to two extra doors at other locations in the house, keeping me delay me outside, and then finally allow me to get to the BROWN parcel. And too, the overhead noise started up as I was looking at each item from the parcel. As has been mentioned many times in this blog, the perps are besotted with the color BROWN, and always are judicious in how and where it is arranged. And since a huge amount of items are shipped in brown cardboard boxes worldwide one would think the perps have this one figured out. But no, they must harass the living shit out of me and then engage in the all too familiar parcel delivery jerkaround event. Bring on the UPS vans for the next week.

And to add that, the perps pulled one of their very favorite jerkaround stunts; obstructing doorway/lock egress. I cannot count the number of times they have done this, but my perp-abettting mother has deliberately locked me out of the house at least four times in the last 2 years. Never mind the perp guidance, this was conventional knowledge based. It is just so funny for them to have their victims attempt to open a locked door. One can imagine the level of juvenility that forms this notion, and keeps at it for ten years.

Another utilitarian work day; helping out getting a pallet load of wood pellets for the vineyard owner. As the owner's don't have a pickup truck, they often require the services of a local handyman, who has one and a trailer as well. First a trip to the dump to get rid of old kitchen stoves in the trailer, and then an hour highway drive to Westbank to get the pellets. As it was a ton, and on a pallet, and the pallet is a $50 charge, it was declined and so we loaded it ourselves and left the pallet behind. They were in 40lb bags, and the loading went reasonably quickly. More than planned as it "happened"; a semi-trailer truck was loading at an adjacent bay, and lo, if the truck driver didn't come over and help us load. Freaking ridiculous to say the least. Plenty of road traffic on the highway, as in vehicular gangstalking. And a special day it was too, as I was the passenger in a metallic red maroon colored pickup truck.

Which was true for 40 minutes yesterday as well; we dropped off a surplus dryer to my landlady who needed one. Not that she deserved it, for she was enough of a pain in the ass that I gave her my notice last month, and will be moving from my shortest tenancy, a whole three months worth. Call it pissing off the "help' (that's me) once too often. Said landlady was still kvetching about the dryer set-up, and I told her I would look after it when I returned in the evening.

And course I had to make a few sorties to my suite to get tools to get the old dryer out, and lo, if there wasn't vile red colored plasma squiggles in my sight that persisted from shared laundry room, into my suite, and then again when back in the laundry room. This was the never-before event of returning to my suite in the middle of a working day. Exciting times for the perps, and all the more so as I entered via the front foyer of the house, and not from the back door.

Anyhow, more ruminations over the load of woodstove pellets today; about the most opposite one could get to the loaded logging trucks that are arranged in such frequency around me. Over the years there has been large loads of timbers, and the ubiquitous semi-trailer loads of dimension lumber, invariably wrapped in plastic. All this in the service of "wood stalk", for whatever that means for the perps. Regular readers will know I have a forestry background, and often measured live trees in the forest as part of wood volume sampling activities. And too, working with fallers on one project where the trees were measured standing, then again by scalers after it was felled. A significant amount of my past job history can be added upon, but one gets the point; when my life has been orchestrated, scripted and arranged since birth, along with participating quisling personnel (including family) down to the the last microsecond, one can safely assume that the perps have a HUGE interest in some kind of  tree/wood/wood composite products energetic connection with me. I would be the last to know exactly why, though I have read that trees are deemed to be living energy pumps. And who knows; the very trees I measured some 40 years ago may now be in the form of lumber or other wood products. It would fit the perp pattern.

And the prickly landlady is off tomorrow to travel to Seattle. Now three for three know trips where she has managed to follow my old footsteps; W Washington State, Victoria BC, and now Seattle. Plus last week she was away for a week and never said where. I am suspicious of these large, childless and homely women, two in the last two years, that seem to arrive into my life.

As I was fixing the dryer last night the landlady came to "chat", and tried to put on the squeeze again to have me stay, paying full rent but no landscape maintenance requirements, but I told her that I had already made a financial commitment to the next place. As in moving yet again, the fourth residence this year, not including early January. She made out that she was "so stressed" again, though she has no progeny, husband or works at a job. Not that she provides any supporting detail, which makes me suspicious too.

And yesterday, the cleaning lady at the vineyard house got paid by the owner, and then launched into a soliloquy after she was paid by the owner, complaining to me, while eating lunch (and captive on the couch) that she doesn't get enough work hours, when she formerly worked at at fence post operation where she got 80 hours each two weeks. And of course she doesn't fill in the details as to why she doesn't work there any more. Like WTF; she drives a late model Ford SUV that has the self parking option; it just doesn't compute. Or, put it another way; why keep me in suspense as the story doesn't add up given the lack of detail? Why is it I am this chosen receiver for all these tales of woe, particular financial and job related, when I don't have much engagement with them in the first place? The latest perp planted similie is "faux woe"; cute.

And I see the perps screwed me out seeing, or even knowing, about last month's charge card bill. A whole $400 or so, all charges that I somehow "forgot". As in Not; if I receive a bill I don't forget and pay it on time. There has been more than once when they have messed with bill payments, either stopping the bill or redirecting and obstructing payment (via mail). I have no idea why they need to do this, though it would seem to be time related.

A Friday weekday off in advance of attending an all-day course tomorrow. The upstairs clunking, squeaking and thumping started within minutes of me getting up, though to be fair, they are going to Seattle for two or three days. Apparently for some medical evaluation, though it does strike me as curious that they didn't leave a day earlier, as it would be a late afternoon appointment to get there on time. Not many specialists are open Saturdays. But as there is no end of BS streaming from the landlady I have given up on anything she says, be it the apparent conventional explanation or if an operative of the Fourth Reich of the Psychopathic Confederacy to roll two of my most used names together.

And I get to putz online in the morning before heading out to my hair and leg wax appointment. The perps like to "get me ready" by whatever nasty stuff, along with the color transitions exposure, they are pumping out of ubiquitous LCD display panels.

And as part of this morning's activity, more shopping/viewing online, and lo, if a sudden need to take a shit didn't come on immediately following putting an item into my online shopping cart. But that wasn't enough; the rarely-outside landlady found some reason to be outside adjacent to the bathroom, and then the perps decided to make it messy and block the toilet. So, another shower to clean up, and just as the Liquid Plumber was dumped in the toilet bowl (aka chemical ether interaction), why, and overhead clunk suddenly erupted. Ten years of constant toilet games and here we are, still noisestalking me over this.

And why did they take so long to do a wax and haircut? So I could get screwed for a parking fine, another jerkaround I get from time to time. A whole fifteen minutes over, and the Fuckwit who gave it to me was across the street attending to other parked vehicles. And I get to send a check to the City of Pentiction, no online payment allowed.

And the cosmetology & haircut school owner was on site today, and was friendly, even calling me by name though I hadn't met her before. Like straight out of perp harassment training; have the business or property owner come by for a gangstalk too.

And post haircut (always a big perp event) and post leg wax (always a big perp event) I went to the tanning salon to get browned. Or to invoke the vanity excuse, to keep the tan that I got from the summer. No doubt I was duly glowing afterward when I went to the supermarket to get a few things. They were all over me there, including the ubiquitous stocking/stalking carts and their brown boxes they like to place near me, or where I am to go.

A Saturday, and an all day course on Introduction to Wine Chemistry, on behalf of my employer. He and his wife will be there too. The second half next week. Hopefully there will be no lab exercises, as past chemistry courses haunt me on these alone. I always wondered why I was so scrambled for following the steps in the long ago lab exercises, and why I could never recall what to do even if I studied ahead of time. Now I know, the Fourth Reich was on me then, making sure I was incompetent in a chemistry lab.

Back from the wine chemistry course, and I had to say it was interesting. The instructor had interesting experiences he conveyed, and the harassment BS was down to the low setting for once.

Missing Sunday here, best get this published for Monday.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Science Stalled

This the eve of return to Standard Time, as well as my decision to move out from this FUD-scene from the landlady and her recently revealed curious notions of her gardening work for remuneration. A long way of saying I found her to be totally incompatible when working for her on property maintenance. She did send me an email offering reduced rent to do leaf raking for the next four months which was a good deal. Alas, I wasn't allowed to be wholly rational about it, and am going to move to a motel unit for the next six months. This summertime holiday town is full of empty suites the owners like to have occupied just for the cash flow.

But after listening to the above landlady and mother quarreling again, as well as the continued heavy footed pounding, excessive floor squeaking and clunking overhead, I "decided", per remote influencing methods, that saving $800 in rent over four months wasn't a sufficient inducement to stay put. And of course I wasn't allowed to weigh this at the time of "deciding" as in true perp managed FUD-ing, it only occured to me after the fact. That is a lot of coin for a minimum wage worker, so count another financial hit for the Malevolent Forces.

Anyhow, I finished reading "The Secret of Life" by Georges Lakhovsky, a Russian who resided in Paris for most of his scientific career. First published in 1939, he postulates that there is no vacuum of space, and that there is an energetic ether of cosmic radiation, which can include electromagnetism, light, radio, ionizing radiation and others. He came up with the name of "Universion" for this synthesis of all radiating forces. He goes on to state that the radiation transversing the ether "permeates all material bodies, even those of the greatest density". Furthermore, "the presence of of terrestrial elements, the concentration of matter and the appearance of life... are but manifestations of these rays. Finally, the "motion of the stars is maintained by the energy transmitted by these cosmic rays". And to make it complete in scope, "Universion and cosmic rays will extend the bounds of science and enable us to solve the most absorbing problems of life, -including telepathy and transmission of thought". And don't us TI's know about the last-most features of the energetic ether, exploited and rubbed in by Malevolent Forces, or whatever name one wants to assign them.

And of course none of this is in any school science curriculum, as it seems to be that although cosmic rays, and neutrinos in particular, are coursing through us millions of times per second, and are accepted as a physical reality, they don't ever equate this to an energetic ether. The astrophysicists and cosmologists still maintain that space is a vacuum. Call it Universion, the omniplasma continuum (best name IMHO), the sea of neutrinos or just the ether; it just astounds me that science hasn't added two plus two on this topic.

Enough cosmic ponderings, and to close out this piece on Lakhovsky. He developed the Multiwave Oscillator, as a means to address disease due to his concepts of cellular electromagnetic properties, e.g. induction, capacitance and oscillation. And it worked to even cure diseases caused by radium therapy, the rage at the time for treatments despite its abysmal track record even then. In other words, Lakhovsky wasn't just a theoretical physicist, but applied his theories to create working remedies to disease, which he saw as an imbalance of localized cellular oscillations. And it just astounds me that science as it is taught in its current form hasn't got this far in understanding cellular processes or treating cancer, which was a predominant use of the Multiwave Oscillator.

One more grind about the lack of Lakhovsky's work being understood in the wider context. He goes on to discuss the property of soils and how some have insulating properties, and the denser soils have conducting properties. This would explain why the perps are so intensely interested in my soil contact, as well as its color. Lakhovsky makes a point that the denser soils are conductive and result in higher levels of cancer. He also discusses water supplies and how it contributes to background cancer levels because of cellular disequalibrium with the water supply. And lo, if I don't get harassed and fucked with as to the water supply I use, whether for hygiene, swimming, plant irrigation or whatever. TI's wishing to understand the broader context of the perps' methods and intentions are advised to read this tome that should of changed the world, but was parked on the sidelines instead. Call it Physics Uniperversity.

Sunday, and the throngs suddenly emerged for yoga at 0930h this morning. Not only vehicular escorts of 10-15 in file on the way there, but when yoga was typically six to eight others, and now is 25, one has to wonder what the perp imperative is. Flexing one's spine is always a big perp need, so maybe with the cast of freaks around me, closer than usual, this was the agenda. And women with tattoos placed around me on three sides, especially that very fugly one with then down her arm and onto her shoulder. One class member knew the instructor enough to do the infernal "huggie" greeting next to me before class started. Why I get these outbreaks of hugging next to me is beyond comprehension, but the perps have an agenda over this one. And they stoked up on a few more males in class, four others I counted. One male wore a ballcap the whole time in a semi-hot yoga, about as ridiculous as the woman wearing a sweater at first. Another male was in semi military dress; a green camo shirt and a fugly bright green shorts, those absurd baggy ones to below the knee. The woman in front of me came in white draping pants, another reminder of the Unfavored. Though thankfully, she didn't keep them on. I don't get it why I have this undressing parade around me. Or else if I am undressing, say, taking off track pants for shorts at yoga, why this clusterfuck gangstalk erupts around me with plenty of banter. I often get noisestalking each time I change clothes in the quasi-privacy of my residence, and it is less prevalent now than it was for the last ten years. Some relief; as in NOT.

I got sacked for a 1.5 hour nap this afternoon following reading 15 pages into a new book. I don't think this is the first time of this particular "coincidence" construction, and I can only assume they want me in a more psychically accessible state after reading. Often, when doing garden work at the First Feral Family house my perp abetting mother would go for a nap. The landscaping, plant tending (cultivation and weeding), or like duties are a huge perp interest. Hence them keeping me in farm work job since 2008, then this year, viticulture. Which has been extended to winemaking, having those yeasts grow and become active, as if 20 years of hobby winemaking wasn't enough, which seems to be the case.

More shit games at work today, covering two different aspects; pressing the red grapes, then in the afternoon, when propagating the malolactic bacteria for a secondary fermentation (tart tasting malic acid is converted to smoother lactic acid). As in the perps leaking shit out my ass, just enough to feel it, and in liquid form in the first instance. In the afternoon, when doing the malolactic bacteria propagation, they forced me to take a crap just before adding the red wine to the yeast starter. And lo, if they didn't back the toilet up too, having not done this last week when they pulled the same stunt.

And it was the first workday on standard time, and it seemed it was a big enough deal to have the overhead landlady get up at the same time as me and pound the floor overhead with her very heavy frame. Though, I suspect that the perps enhance the physical event and create more vibration and noise than would be normal. Call it "noise enhanced reality". They have been doing this for over ten years now, and not just for noise. They routinely, like 200x/day or more, poke or jab me as if I am contacting objects near me or in my hand when if fact they didn't. It always happens when the item is not in my central vision, but when I get poked or jabbed, I look to see if was legit, (was it possible), and almost invariably the answer is no. The particularly like jabbing my fingers, nipples and feet. Such fun; as in NOT.

 Winemaking work again, attempting to stop a fermentation early to keep the sugar level up for a dessert wine. It still won`t stop after two rounds of additives, and today, I attempted to filter it to no avail. The filter just gummed up and it bypassed it seemed, though I don`t know how it did. The boss man seemed all perturbed, but later he tells me this problem occurred last year. So it would seem that this year`s cooling equipment, a Rub Goldberg affair he rigged up, was an attempt to address the problem, but it was never tested in advance. Anyhow a day of futility, and do the perps ever like to arrange that through their proxies.

And today, I got some yellow ochre colored yeast sediment on my jacket (from white wine), kind of looking like shit in a way. Yesterday it was red slime on my jacket from pressing the red grapes and a profusion of same deep red colored vehicles escorting me on my commute back into downtown Pentiction. And today, more yellow colored vehicles in the vehicular gangstalking cavalcade. Exciting times in perpdom, along with me picking up my Rx on the way home which contained yellow and white colored pills.

And it would seem the perps are getting serious about introducing more yellow colored in my existence. The new jug of laundry detergent is yellow colored, and represents a significant departure from white (mostly) colored jugs. I cannot bear the sight of orange-red Tide containers, so that might be their final laundry detergent test. No doubt it will take another ten years to get to that.

Why is it that I am bombarded all day long with notions that this current vineyard-winemaker job is going to end soon. (Question marks aren`t working tonight in any application). This BS, aka planted ideations about work, has been going on for a month or more. The boss man said there was plenty to keep me busy after winemaking, until mid-December when I am going to flit to the gangstalking capital of Canada, Victoria, BC.

A second day of filtering wine, this time changing the pads every few minutes or so. I at least had sanction from the boss to go through some 200 pads, 10 at a time, to get the sweet wine clear. Though there was some other sabotage the perps did on me with respect to winemaking that I won't get into here. But it was successful, getting the wine clear, or clear enough that the fermentation will stop. I won't get into the Rube Golberg cooling system either, but it didn't help much as it turned out.

A relatively minor event on the day, but this is a typical perp stunt, though of no great consequence. I arranged my hair cut and wax appointment for the 17th (a Saturday), with a male at the other end of the line, and he seemed to be cool about it all. Later in the morning, my boss notes that there is a wine chemistry course on the 17th, and would I like to go. Why yes, as I had scoped it out some weeks earlier and "forgot" about it. So I phone back the outfit doing my hair and wax and explain that I would like to move the appointment to a day earlier, as I arranged to take this as a saved day off. The supervisor woman, who knows me and is reasonably friendly, answers the phone, and then she tells me to hold for a minute, and then the same guy who answered the phone the first time takes my appointment change and is cool about it, and both were moved to the same time as before, except one day earlier.

So here we have a number of perp behaviors that have been absolutely consistent over these ten years of insane abuse and a scripted existence. One, changing appointment times; a big deal for the perps to fuck with my appointment times, usually "caused" by other scripted contingencies that erupt in due sequence. Another, is this bait and switch game of swapping a male with a female, or vice versa, be it over the phone, the middle of a checkout transaction, or like swapable arrangements. Or even placing a male on the location where a female was, such as the last yoga class (a scripted zoo); the female and friendly instructor had her mat in place, and then when the class count was getting very large, she pulled her mat up and freed more room for yet more yogis. So who effectively takes the very same physical location as the instructor gave up? Why, this never-seen-before dude in half camo (shirt) and half bright green baggy shorts. (Unfavored; male, shorts, hairy legs, camo or military type green colors). So why are the perps are so dutybound to swap out males for females or vice versa and why are they making it so obvious? Psychics can sometimes detect someone's former presence and also whether the person had female or male energy, so maybe this is what the perps are on about. And given their likely litany of abuses in my  memory deleted years, age 3 to 5 (at least), it just might be that there was a preponderance of males as abusers, and in military dress as well. NOT MY PROBLEM; so why am I the centerpiece victim in this fucking insane litany of scripted abusiveness, and monitored/harassed literally up the asshole?

Another day and TWO toilet/shit stunts; one in the morning just before setting off to work, and when a work. They blocked the toilet with less than a half cup of solids, and I put Liquid Plumber in it and left for work. About two hours into work, they started the shit leaking game, and when I went to the bathroom, why, I suddenly had to unload. And a substantial one it was, and this particular toilet is about 80% blocked, and lo, if it didn't clear after two plungings. I get back to my place, and test my toilet, and even with Liquid Plumber in it all day, it backed up again. So..., having just finished one bottle, and purchased another on the way home, it would seem that the perps are engaged in having me swap bottles of Liquid Plumber for a single (and protracted) blocked toilet event. Exciting moments for the Supreme Juveniles indeed.

This game of swapping new for old is something they play with the toilet paper all the time. They somehow arrange one roll to finish, and for me to start another in one sitting, so to speak. It never happened before they went beserk/overt in 04-2002, but I can count on at least two of these toilet roll swappings in mid-crap per month.

A busy day of winemaking, getting the Pinot Noir racked, that is, removed from the sediment to a new vessel.

The place of purchase of Liquid Plumber was on light on gangstalking, truly a rare event as this happens so infrequently anywhere, let alone this particular box store. But once at the checkout, some elder-male is waving to the cashier while walking by, ensuring that his hand covers where I was standing and gets way too close, as in interpersonal distance violation. Then in the parking lot, strangely vacant, another elder-male was coming through the parking lot, and then re-aims his vehicle at me, I move to get out of the way, and the fucker re-aims his vehicle again, missing me by six feet or so. With all the room in that parking lot, why would any sane person choose to aim their vehicle at the one pedestrian? All to keep the headlights on me as one reason. Meanwhile, a second vehicle, some 80' away was sitting in a parking stall, and had his headlights aimed at me. Get it, one stationary vehicle with distance dependent headlights approaching (aka pit-lamping), while another was moving.

Then the vehicular gangstalking went crazy once I departed with the bottle of Liquid Plumber (silver grey (Favored color) plastic container with a red (Unfavored) cap). I stopped for fuel (gasoline) and they arranged for one vehicle to arrive, circle all the pumps and seeming refuelling customers and then depart without stopping. And going absurdly fast, so I suppose the whole deal was scripted; no innocent bystanders for this gig.

Saturday, and a usual day off. Though today I worked for relatively little, but that was OK as I volunteered for a harvest of Reisling grapes at vineyard that was on our winery field trips in January's wine class. A certain amount of herding and clustering around me, particularly the children, was evident for half the day or so, but for once it was near normal and not the stilted scared-shitless look I usually get. Plus, I got to see how they did the harvesting and crushing, and that is always a bonus, if only from the personal perspective. The usual masers and plasma beams were abundant but not invasive, or at least, that was the managed perception.

And a ruse to start the day; the upstairs water was running all night and into the morning, and as the granny doesn't have the landlady-daughter staying there here right now, I did the good samaritan thing and phoned and explained it, and volunteered to look into the problem. And it was the perps's perennial sabotage item of choice, the toilet, this time in run-on mode. And lo, if they didn't let me fix it after putzing with the flap valve. Toilet tank water contact is always a big deal for perp stunts, this one just before heading off with my vehicle warming up outside.

Music listening tonight, continuing from last night, the first time in 18 months or more that they let me listen to music samples. Interesting albums/performers are retained by way of bookmarking them in my substantial bookmark library of all things interesting (music, cinema, books, hobbies, tools etc.). They have wiped out my bookmarks once in the past, going back to the early days of harassment in 2002. I was fucking pissed about that, and still am. Now I have ten years of bookmarks, and still they won't let me back up my data. And  many of those years were spent idling away, web surfing most of the day as they wouldn't allow me to work. And the "art" of bookmarking an album is a big deal with the perps; cutting and pasting the bookmark title content to have performer first and then album name second is of constant sabotage. Not to mention that they also mess with the bookmark title, say from Amazon, to force me to type in the performer name as one example of their many senseless games.

Rememberance Day, aka Veteran's Day in the US, though a national holiday. Yoga was scheduled, and the freak show duly formed around me again. I get there at 0915h for a 0939h class, and I am the first or second person usually. Then everyone else forms around me, though some social chat with the instructor first. The native Indian contingent came again, lined up at an oblique (to the walls) angle, and not in the usual (3x) cluster in front of me. I get one disgusting tattoo act to my L front, and with the space to the R I was sure they would fill it in with another native Indian. Sure enough, she arrives after the class had started, and as I am in a forward fold, this pair of tattoo-ed legs comes past me. Yuk; more fucking tattoos, and truly an Unfavored feature the perps continue to dog me with at every turn.

And as that wasn't enough, the caretaker for the granny upstairs, (daughter away) just "happened" to be pulling my damp laundry out of the dryer as I went to restart it after yoga. And lo, if she wasn't a native Indian with a freaking tattoo on her arm. She explained that she didn't know if I was gone for the day, and was about to make room for her laundry. I said I had come back from yoga and was set to restart the dryer. (The dryer is fucked with so 80 min. for two towels and a pair of jeans is insufficient duration). She put my laundry back and restarted the dryer. Like WTF; the native Indian yoga neighbors are moving their mats closer to me, and now a native Indian is making excuses to handle my laundry 30 minutes later, never mind the tattoo bullshit. And too, the perps have a long managed arrangement of my youngest brother living with a native Indian woman for 10 years or more, as if they need me to go through whatever exercise it is they have in mind with ethnic association and skin color.

Not a whole lot of activity/bizarreness for the rest of the day; masers and plasma beams abounding as usual. I was finally allowed to get my Felco pruners sharpened. I see the perps have bent the 2" blade, and it cannot be honed on the flat side as only the bent portion gets abraded and sharpened. Never did I expect a new pair of Felco pruners to slowly acquire a bend in the blade which also causes a snap sensation while pruning. But as regular readers will know, especially if TI's, the perps are totally obsessed with cutting tools, especially if applied to plant material and food. One time when moving the bosses' household, the TV/internet installer was there setting up the connections, and later I see him at his van parked near a bush, and there he was using the wire cutting tools to cut the bush shoots for no seeming rational reason.

Saturday, November 03, 2012

Go Slow Weekend

Only the toilet blockings have made it an interesting Sunday, save the earlier yoga visit as described in the previous blog posting. Otherwise, it has been a shut-in day, something the perps like to pull as I came to find when they first went overt/beserk in 04-2002.

Though, some reflection on The Cosmic Pulse of Life, by Trevor James Constable, p 184;
"If the wisest men of earth choked on what Dr. Drown [inventor of radionics diagnois and healing] was able to do [take photographs of living tissue in the 1940's at resolutions equivalent to current day CT and MRI equipment], imagine how ill-prepared they are to deal with other-world cosmonauts [using etheric propulsion vehicle in a different density plane] who can bioenergetically tune in right to the medulla oblongata of any human being- the main switchboard. Unethical entities in sophisticated possession of such capability can run humans around like so many cockroaches. Unethic entities can, and do, literally think their thoughts into and through human beings who are under such control. There is not a competant occult scientist personally known to me who is not fully aware of this baleful phenomenon, so characteristic of the modern world. Man's seemingly inexhaustible appetite for death and destruction is not an accident!"
True in my experience of mapping the perps activities with world events. And is most likely arranged by our keepers who find so much joy to create human suffering; wholesale as in wars and disasters, or in smaller terms like accidents.

Intense ideations about moving to and working in the Alberta oilpatch today. I don't have any connection with it and have no plans on going there, and nor am I allowed any kind of job contacts with anyone who would be in a position to make an offer. A total perp plant notion, but it dominated my thought process for much of the day.

Busy winemaking today, for remuneration no less.

But why is it that the vehicular gangstalkers are so bound and determined to cross over the centerline and come at me head on? Is it not enough that they arranged road works on a section of road on my 15 min. commute where there is rock blasting, rock hauling, rock placement (as future road ballast) along with one-way traffic so that vehicles in each direction are stopped, aggregated and let through in batch to occupy the same section of road? (Not at the same time for course).

This is not a secondary highway even, and lo, if they didn't arrange a car carrier (a transport truck with multiple vehicles on it) to encroach 2' over the center line, coming at me from 50' away. Said carrier had absolutely NO REASON to avoid any cyclist or some such excuse on the marked road shoulder, and the fucker was coming at me for a head on. Though he did pull back in time, as I wasn't going to head for the ditch just yet. And too, a white and silver grey five vehicle escort behind it for whatever benefit that brings the perps/.

Busy winemaking, again; MLF, try to slow down the ferment on the late harvest wine by hooking up this big cooling fin in the tank, etc.

Halloween and all that; an excuse for more noise for the perps. And I am trying to find a place where I would live upstairs, or the top floor, and have no one pounding overhead. No such luck so far.

 All day today these notions of it being Wednesday when it is Thursday. I never got days of the week wrong until 2005 when they first succeeded in dithering me on this one. I recall my perp abetting brother dropping by,  (ahem; it is all scripted), and at some point in the conversation he asked me what day of the week it was. I got it wrong (in hindsight), but the asshole didn't say anything or re-evaluate what I said. He has a few of these like stunts to his name over the years.

Another shit stunt; leaking it out of my rear end in discrete quantities, nothing major, but uncomfortable at times, and needing a toilet paper clean up. They pulled a few on my this past summer where I had to take a shower to clean up at my place of work. The brown games continue on all fronts. Though I see that they have backed off on deep brown colored gangstalking vehicles this week. For the past three weeks there has been nearly one per day, ensconced with an advance and trailing white and silver-grey vehicle escort.Could it be that I was wearing a yellow-ish shirt today? They do like to arrange those two colors more often of late.

And the timing of the laundry from the above stunt was exactly when I began a new bottle of detergent, swapping to a new brand even. And a yellow colored container at that, one of their "problem" colors, aka an Unfavored color. Exciting time in perp research indeed, not forgetting it is psychopathically insane criminal abuse as well.

And my Firefox browser was stripped of graphics, just text, and after some pissing around I had to reset Firefox. What a disaster; basics like a menu bar were missing, my few add-ons were gone and I am still in major recovery mode. Though, at significant length, my all important bookmarks were restored. And not forgetting, that bookmarks are my whole life interests, over 50,000 of them. They wiped them out in 2002, and hopefully they won't do it again.

A almost Fellini-like (peverse juxtaposition of odd characters and behaviors), visit to the medical clinic to get my Rx renewed; no one in the waiting area and no one at the front counter, though a teenage boy in a red shirt sitting in an adjacent room with the door ajar and a mid-sized dog in his lap, seeming to hold it up against a PC monitor. Lots of female banter from somewhere in the office, and a kid and another dog seemed to be part of it. Said child  (3 yo) and a dog come down the hallway side by side, a seeming litter mate (same silver grey with overlaid brown guard hair fur) of the one in the lap of the boy. (Favored color of silver-grey with unfavored brown fur note). How any mother, save in controlled and scripted conditions, can let their child wander into a public area, and possibly outside unattended, defies understanding. After some five minutes I asked the boy if the office was closed, and within a minute a native Indian woman appears in the hallway, the receptionist. I give her my public health care card from my wallet, and answer the few questions, and then she leads me to the room, then putzes with the 22" monitor that is facing me from 5' away, and tells me the doctor would be right in. He takes five minutes to arrive (as in slinking in) even if I passed him doing paperwork in the hallway, and asks a the minimum of questions at to the Rx particulars, (not related to health condition or need) and does his Rx prescription online on the monitor. The doctor sends off the Rx electronically, and then I ask him if there was any refills (though it did say on the Rx bottles I supplied), and he says no, and then goes back online to resend it for refills. Like WTF; no questions as to health, Rx logistics, and only one about the pharmacy. And one would think he would be trying to sell me on coming back again, but no, even if I cannot find a family doctor in town.

A sudden "need" for a tanning session came on at 1900h and my usual headlight show outside when I arrived. A strip mall with no parking next to the sidewalk in front of the storefronts, and yet a vehicle was 50' away, headlights pointed at me (aka pit-lamping) going in. And lo, if there wasn't another vehicle doing the same thing from the opposite side when I exited. The latter vehicle was red colored, with the typical pose of the operative/asshole getting in or out of the driver's seat. And too, a sudden eruption of a moving truck with Fuckwits moving furniture into a business some 80' away, this at 1945h on a Friday night for crissakes. No sudden surge of tanning customers though, unlike last time.

Then onto the pharmacy and the nearby mall supermarket. At least two gangstalker males were of the same dark hair and dark complexion of the doctor in the above mentioned medical office visit, now almost three hours later. All to leave without doing any grocery shopping for crissakes. I had one dumbstruck shit standing there 4' away for no apparent purpose while I picked up my usual four yogurts in the cooler case. The stand-there-and-look-blank act is very old, ten years worth. And getting blanked out for one item and not getting it is another perp neural influencing trademark.

I am going to launch (publish) this now, as I will be busy sorting out the moving, or not, scenario. This being written at the start of the weekend, Nov. 3, 2012.