Saturday, June 22, 2013

The Texan Connection

There is a Texan connection to the ongoing abuse and harassment, and I don't have a firm idea of what it is. But, today, a family member came to the vineyard to help as the owners have a health crisis. Not unlike last year, where the owner's son had a health crisis, and that kept the owners in Vancouver for extended durations during the growing season. A  family member came from Texas to help out, though he has never done vineyard work before. So, I had to help him out, as he was taking out too many leaves. He seems to be a pleasant person, and has tattoos galore, extra long hair (to his shoulders) and hides some of it under his cowboy hat. And with avocado green cowboy boots no less. How many Unfavoreds is that?

It rained all day, and I took some time out for my first appointment at the new local dentist. Same deal as other clinical personnel, she had her mask on when introducing herself, as did the dental assistant. Apparently, I likely have a cracked tooth, and under a crown, and my diagnosis of a root canal wasn't accurate, or at least, not yet. Onto another dentist to get a CT scan in a week. I didn't know they could do these things until now. And also, digital X-ray pictures, which instantly display on one or more of the three LCD displays in the room. As always, I posit the path to human control is through such devices, as the perps can crank some very fierce energy beams from them, I have come to know firsthand.

Another day of all rain; my $300 Bluestorm rain pants (purchased for $75), worn maybe 6x in the last two years, leaked today, though didn't yesterday. One can say I am extremely pissed about this. Regular readers will recall in 2011, my new rain paints (different kind/make) leaked within an hour of use.

No Solstice wierdness from the perps today. Unless one counts the hot-rod muffler noise, about one every five minutes, nearly all day. The excuse was that the neighboring vineyard had some kind of public event. The local hot-rod muffler noise vehicles, most being pick-up trucks, also added to the noise coverage to keep it constant.

Set the alarm for 0600h, and lo, if I didn't wake up at 0630h to find that it wasn't set. Just another jerkaround to change my plans. I was to get to the laundromat early to avoid the bums, freaks and tattoos, all to finish at 0900h before a waxing appointment. No such plan permitted by dictate of the Fourth Reich, Mind Invasion and Life Trashing Division.

The hair pulling/waxing "need" continues, as does the invocation of admiring my own tanned and hair-free legs for the subsequent weeks. Wearing trunk style shorts has become near permanent wear; as underwear for pants, or as shorts if the weather permits. The extra baggy shorts to the knees on most other males continues as the most important perp fashion statement, one I consider fugly and absurd. Even in the two days of torrential rain this week, there they were, out in these baggy shorts and T-shirts no less. Just plain ridiculous.

And someone splattered bleach, or something like it, onto one of my shirts while it was in the washing machine. Nice orange tiger marks to go with the olive green shirt, one of my regularly worn items. Could it be to differentiate it from the new olive color duffel bag used to haul laundry?

So. many things I need to get of late, moving into larger quarters, as in planted notions of "needs". The perps love to put me through weeks of coveting some object, usually online and placed in a virtual shopping cart, all to have the plans go south due to some new financial development. Current "needs"/planted notions are; a folding clothes dryer rack, a, new sleeping bag bedsheet liner (because the one I have is too difficult to get out of), a NAS computer to get backups under control, a certain kind of knife for the kitchen (in keeping with the perp's obsession over knives), furniture, a bigger back pack, a portable drill, multi-oscillating tool bits and attachments,etc. Then I get hit with a $800 health insurance bill for one year, the notice in the mail strangely delayed by the landlady finding it Monday morning before I headed out the door. All to allow a full weekend's web shopping/object coveting last weekend, and dashed expectations once the mail was opened.

A Saturday posting, as I will be busy in the vineyard again.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Day Glo Road Check

Why is it the perps needed someone else other than the police to do a road check? Because they needed another party who wears day-glo overalls (yellow-green) to check my drivers licence for no reason whatsoever than perp purposes. It was the Commercial Vehicle Safety  Enforcement. (CVSE) who had an unsigned road block, though working with a policemen as well. Why were they stopping private vehicles on a secondary arterial that has no regular commercial vehicle traffic at 1530h today? (Skaka/Eastside Rd. for locals). And all they wanted to see was my driver's licence, which the perps buried in my wallet and it took a minute or so to find it. Then he asks was I hiking or cycling (dumb, no bike outside the vehicle, though one could of been stowed in the trunk), and I say I was working. Which should of been a segue into checking my insurance to see that it was rated for to-fro work and less than 10km one way.  But he didn't; all he wanted was to hang out in day-glo overalls and see my driver's licence. Ridiculous by my standard of what passes for normal around here. Wrong department (I was a private vehicle and not a commercial one), and wrong road to check. All for the day-glo moments while I got fucked into not finding my driver's licence right away.

Later, I drove to a former landlady's and paid her money (wallet action again) for her special tea and garage-sale-to-be items, nattered to her and he daughter-in-law for 40 min. and then departed. Then a EC-120 helicopter flew low overhead, but as this is the flight path to the airport, I would not say it was unusual.

Once I got to my place, only five min. later and unloaded my vineyard clothes and acquisitions, why four black fighter jets flew low, opposite in the direction of the airport and not planing to land there. This is the second instance of black fighter aircraft this week, and there is no mention of them in the local news, and no airshows nearby. The closest Canadian base is Comox, and these might be CF-18, the dual tail configuration was an obvious clue. Last year's hiking had a EH-101, doing 60 minutes of stalking/undeterminable circling and hovering, and is also stationed at CFB Comox. None of this surprises me too much, as it was obvious the perps had the US-Canada border shut down at one crossing in 2002 to make me miss a ferry sailing.

The vineyard owners are away due to family emergency, and I am the only one working at this crucial stage of tucking the shoots between the wires, and thinning out the foliage for airflow. A visiting biddy in vineyard to deliver a brown  envelope, and somehow found me finishing at the end of row as I was exiting for lunch. A UK accent, and I have heard way too many of those to find it a coincidence. How is it they know where I am in the vineyard?

I took a break from work and went to look at a bottling operation at a vineyard not far away. As it was a rare weekday departure from the vineyard, there was a major vehicular gangstalking, and extended brown vehicle time, leading ahead.

And the mobile wine bottling service was an interesting operation to see. At least 3 employees, and 3 volunteers, plus an attractive blonde woman in the middle of the mix. Then a short wine leakage that "happened" to fly through an open door of the trailer. I suppose the perps wanted me to see  the wine as it had passed through filtering equipment at that point. As in energetic response to the interim state of the wine, after pumping to the bottling reservoir, but before bottling. The winery owner was glad to see me and gave me a sample to taste. And lo, if he hadn't just finished running his hand over a brown box (with white coating on it) just before shaking my hand as I was about to depart..

Every day so far, a yellow-green day-glo stalker somewhere. One tailed me into Staples two days ago, and "happened" to finish there after me, and tailed me out. How is it that the perps can find people to look so ridiculous in day-glo, and I am talking about joggers and the like, not your erstwhile job site worker.

Day-glo yellow-green roadside markers today for some kind of cycling race or whatever has been organized. A big triathalon town this, a 20 year annual run of Ironman ended last year.

And the propane canons noise of adjacent farms protecting their fruit crop from bird predation has begun. It is a popping noise, like squash balls, all day long, today and yesterday. Back in 2007-2007, they had me confined to a rooming house, and next door was a squash court. And lo, if the perps didn't run this same popping noise as if the ball was hitting the wall. But as I have played squash myself, it wasn't a realistic noise, just one the perps wanted to create for long term purposes. (Maybe distant guns). Once, they put on some real squash players/noise, and it wasn't anything like this endemic popping noise. This same popping noise erupted at my apartment from 2007-2011, and I was six stories up and nowhere near a squash court or other source. Never mind, the perps decided, we want to inculcate you with this noise everywhere you live or work, even if there isn't a plausible cause. 

A new cashier at the specialty grocery store I frequent. Oh my, a gorgeous one, after a long string of dowdy ones, save the young one with black hair and blue eyes. She did the "happen to be passing by" strut as I stepped into the store, and passed in front of the baskets I was to access for shopping.

Speaking of which, I was at a checkout a few days earlier, and a young and attractive auburn haired woman with blue eyes was in front of me at the cashier. She wasn't looking at me or making any kind of small talk, which is normal, even before the perps went berserk/overt in 2002. (I lived a stage managed life though, for all of my 47 years then). But as she was finishing up at the cashier, this attractive woman turns to me and says she could take my basket to put back with the rest in the stack, (as she was putting hers away too, on the way out the door). I said, sure, thanks very much, and gave it to her. Like WTF; she makes a point of not even looking at me, and then later turns to me and asks me for my basket. But as I have no end of store staff fussing over the shopping baskets after I am finished with them, and my groceries are on the checkout belt, this wasn't too strange from the harassment perspective.

Saturday and the start of a new kind of conditioner; white gel in light brown bottle, unlike the last kind, light brown in a white bottle (and the perps dicked with the conditioner color once to lighten up the brown color). That made for all manner of later eruptions which followed.

The gangstalker wacko in the laundromat of last week (and motel residence before that), and three successive gangstalkings with his truck and camping trailer at 0630h, Wed. Thurs, Fri. this week made another appearance at the same laundromat. That makes four days in a row for this ballcapper/shiftless elder male. But a new ball cap today, and lo, if it wasn't the exact yellow of the yellow jug of Arm+Hammer laundry detergent he was grasping. Hilarious.

Another shiftless elder male standing outside the laundromat for no reason, and lo, if he doesn't come inside and read the supplied paper and magazines. Note to perps; If a stalker is going to look less than obvious standing around, put a cigarette in his mouth next time.

More bizarreness at the laundromat; a mid-brown metallic pickup from Oliver (30 min. away) arrives beside me with one empty stall between, and the male putzes at the hood and is facing me. The woman gets out and takes a plastic bag from the truck and puts it beside the cast concrete garbage bin about 20' away. Then they depart. It is too early for any other businesses to be open, and to come all this way to deposit garbage that will be beside my walking path to the laundromat for two more visits is plain insane, unless this serves the perp garbage fixation imperative.

A haircut, no other hair work today, -maybe someone wanted a hair sample from today's new conditioner bottle usage. Which might of explained the insane amounts of vehicular gangstalking today, including one Fuckwit about to pass me on on residential street. And plenty of metallic tan colored vehicles, at least 20 for a whole half hour of driving time.

my one grocery store stop, and a "holdup" with a return and no reciept. That gave the blonde girl time to stand around for longer, and the person of the vitamin section arrive with a price tagging roll that was 6" diamter of day-glo, in fushia-red. And it so happened that one such vile colored tag was on an item that I had selected.

Noise onset to go with my outside activities of using my Fein Multi-oscillating tool to sharpen my Felco hand pruners. As most regular readers will know, the perps are most obsessed over the application of cutting tools, sharpening them, and the color of the sharpening stone/substrate. The motorcycle noise was on full bore at times during this. Possibly to complement the school of some six riders doing some kind of motorcycle training class. If I don't like the sound of motorcycles, nor the sight of them as it now seems, why do I get this continual barrage of motorcycle noise and over-obvious visual presentation of these things? The female chat started up, then a male was introduced, and then it became all male banter from another direction, all the while I was using a diamond file bit on the tool. I would reckon the perps are looking for some kind of earth-energy interaction with the steel of the blade. As both the diamond, the steel substrate and the steel cutting blade all likely came from different geographic locations, there must me some kind of etheric energy perturbance the perps are attempting to quantify by remote means.

It was also a day for using the paper towels; cleaning my boots, then applying waterproof compound, and then later, with the boots nearby (less than 2'), of cleaning the pruners with paper towel and the lubrication compound. Exciting times in Perpville, and it has only been 11 years of this, and as I see their progress rate, another 10 years before they get to where they want.

Extensive ideations planted in mind today about working in a "man camp" and how I will end up being the local tool sharpening expert. Like WTF; I don't have any interest in going to a remote camp and I don't have the skill set beyond laborer (though the extensive immigration direct to these job sites does make me wonder if it isn't part of the perp imperative in exposing them, of many skin colors and geographic locations, to the soil and petroleum extraction industries, and serve to fulfill the perp's petroleum and soil color imperatives).

A dayglo dressed child for crissakes, yellow-green about a year old.

The bathroom sink drain is on the fritz, now draining very slowly to leave a band of scuzz to be cleaned up with a face cloth. Why should I be surprised? This is the fourth of the current and last three residence locations where the bathroom sink drain "malfunctions", and requires extra mopping for the scuzz/swarf etc. And too, the next-bigger picture is the perp's obsession over hair, cut hair, plucked hair and the waxing "need" that started 1.5 years ago. Not to mention hairs from elsewhere (decidedly not mine) that arrive on me, in my bed and where I am about to perform an activity. These hair arrivals are most common after a shower, and can even be eyelash hairs that are twice as long and thick as my own.

A hike, and lo, if the UK accent member of the party just ahead of me didn't get near exclusive banter/blather time so I could hear it up at McIntyre Bluff. And he also "happened" to find me again, this time off-trail where I was having my lunch and tanning (shorts on). Not a Scottish accent thankfully, about the worst of all the English accents, likely because I have subconscious traumatization associations with that CIA sponsored brain trasher of the day, aka Dr. Ewan Cameron when I was in Montreal 1956 to 1958. Nearly all recall has been somehow deleted from that time, at least three years.

More strange and vivid dreams this am.

Anyhow, time to publish and get to bed (2140h).

Saturday, June 08, 2013

Lights On, Off and Other

Day two of my new abode, a small house on a lot with a larger residential house, where the landlords live. It it most strange that the perps have me free of noxious, loud and room shaking neighbors as they haven't allowed this even in concrete towers, as there have been many instances of 12" of concrete and steel shaking "from" a tenant above. And the last residence, an over-winter in a much smaller motel suite was rife with room vibrations, outside coughing and hacking, and yacking neighbors at all hours of the night, sometimes a woman-only griping shift at 0500h from both the N and S neighbor on the same morning.

So what do the perps do instead? Apart from residential neighborhood noise of large pickups and hotrods and HD motorcycles, why, they fuck with the lights. I was moved to put in four LED light bulbs as I cannot stand compact flourescent bulbs.

Then I put in three new 50W MR16 halogen bulbs in the overhead light, which was working and it suddenly conked out only a few minutes ago after starting up this PC for blogging. This was to be the light for the living room (half the suite) and I will be screwed (so to speak) until I get the problem fixed. If it is like many low volt halogen lighting units, the transformer suddenly quits, and new ones cannot be found as a new (same quality) light is cheaper.

What is it about low-volt lighting systems that causes the perps to take them out with such regularity? This "problem" goes back at least 25 years, and included a $1000 Italian Aurora light with a 5lb transformer, and I never, ever, got it working right even though all who I asked said that model has never been a problem. I shipped it back to Montreal twice (from Victoria) to get it fixed and it still never worked for long. Never did I imagine that everyone else knew perfectly why these low volt halogen lighting follies were playing out, nor that there was an agency of malevolent intent who deemed fucking with my lighting was just another day at the office. I was so pissed with the low-volt halogen lighting hassles that I eventually went to AC halogen bulbs, even though I preferred the punchy low volt halogen`s intense white glow.

My low volt halogen lighting systems of Ikea were also routinely sabotaged up until the perps went overt in 2002. This was a two wire trapeze, and the lights would individually click all of a sudden. Then the bulbs started going on me.

And the third round of lighting I dealt with in this second day of residency is the bathroom globe lights that were very yellow, and some not working. I got replacement ones all the same kind and power, and lo, if only one worked of this bar of four. Then I turned the non-functional ones in and lo, if a second bulb didn't work. I had dinner, repeated the exercise, and then a third one worked. And about two hours into the evening, and after reading wine books that I re-discovered in my boxes, I visit the bathroom again, and lo, if the fourth and last bulb didn't work after I somehow "found" a little more to screw-in . Seems like a progressive and incremental non-consensual human subject experiment on the effects of each bulb to me. But like I have said many times, they have been at this covertly for 47 years (unwitting TI), and then went into overt-berserk mode (as an aware TI) for 11 years now. They aren`t going to stop anytime soon.

And they were preparing me for this, as the lighting in the prior motel residence was also failing; two new 40W incandescent bulbs, one 60W incandescent bulb, and one low volt halogen lamp of a pair also went in the last four weeks there.

At this new residence, a major crud-ification of nearly every surface, especially the shower and bathroom...gross. Cleaning will be a ongoing chore for the next few weeks.

Arising from a new bed, and was awakened at least an hour early before the alarm went off at 0445h. (I was also kept from sleeping by an imposed hour or more of wakefulness).  It is a Monday, and the noise assault was on in force when I started at 0700h. The noise of power equipment all day at the adjacent vineyard while tucking and plucking shoots. Yoga afterward with the delectable pixie

The continuing Internal combustion engine noise from yesterday; string trimmers, power saws, throbby ATV, aircraft, hotrods and HD motorcycle noises in the distance. And a pattern developed; they would have a gasoline powered vehicle make a noise like an gasoline outboard engine, and lo, within a few minutes, an single engine prop aircraft would fly over with a very similar engine noise. Ditto for throbby ATV noise (erupting twice, each time after my break); an aircraft would be arranged to fly overhead with a very similar throbby engine noise.

The high altitude jets-overhead noise was also scripted in, at least 10x over the day, though not as much as last week when there had to be at least 30 overflights, or the noise thereof. Plenty of trails crisscrossing in the sky, and later artful curvilinear tweaks.

Again, dog barking was arranged exactly when cutting or pulling a vine shoot; at least three times in succession (all within 30 seconds or so).

Vineyard work; distant chain saws (odd, too late for pruning), etc. And the now daily bad muffler act again as the employees leave at 1400h, and three of four of them have ill-maintained mufflers.

Ongoing tradesman work as there are things getting repaired in this suite-house. A new heat pump installation; dudes, impact drills, vacuuming, male banter; in and immediately outside. The usual red shirts, baggy shorts to the knee, hairy male legs... etc. -thumping, banging, sawing, clunking, - just like old days, as in last week at the motel I lived in.

And mysterious teleportational packing-moving games; I was missing the Fein file and bit kit purchased in October 2012, and couldn't find it anywhere in my boxes. Not even here at the new place. So how did it "happen" that the bit kit packed in November 2012 end up inside the Fein multi-tool and box that I bought in Jan. 2013? Another one of those moving mysteries, whereby missing items show up in later acquired containers.

The perps totally purged me of knowing it was a D-Day anniversary today; even this morning's radio played the PM of the day, MacKenzie King, and I didn't have any idea why they were doing this. Not until "D-Day" was specifically mentioned by name did I know. Which is a total mind-fuck obstruction stunt, as I always knew it was this day, and recalled before anyone else.

Continued tucking and plucking vine shoots today, all day nearly save some winery activity first thing. The throbby ATV noise played out next door at the adjacent orchard. It seems they have nothing better to do than drive it around the perimeter for an hour or so, and then on the street for more coverage from a different direction. And timed for when I was starting a new row after a food break, twice. The adjacent vineyard got their mower out to make more noise, grinding and smacking rocks with it; ridiculous, as the row aisle cover was short to begin with.

A crumb inundation at my place when I got back. The electrician didn't clean up to well, so particle board crumbs (brown and white)on the counter, kettle, cupboard, stove. And once cleaned up, why, more teleported crumbs would arrive on a clean surface as by back was momentarily turned. All to crank up the infuriation level, something they also did in the vineyard, by making it seem that I put a 3/4" cut from my very sharp pruners in my hand. Somehow, no cut, and no cut glove. It would of been a gusher had the assholes cut me.

More mess to clean up, as I see the electrician used my folding chair as a step stool to install a new light after the perps fucked me into putting three 50W bulbs in the fixture that was rated for 20Wx3  I later learned. Not only was there a dusting of plaster, but the asshole didn't wipe the seat clean. This was coordinated with the fact that I used the same chair all yesterday evening, and now I have a new office chair that was spare from the vineyard. After the folding chair got cleaned, it will be of limited use until I get a breakfast table. Chair changeing, seat changing at the theatre all have been done so many times in the past, it is almost predictable.

Busy on tucking and plucking vines; I get about four rows a day done, as much shoot thinning needs to be done, as shoving the shoots in tight is a bad situation for powdery mildew. So, to tuck a shoot between the trellis wires, one must clear some leaves or extra shoots out to make space for the shoot one wants to tuck. The Vertical Shoot Positioning  (VSP) is what this trellis system is called, and is the most common in this region.

The throbby ATV noise after my two breaks (and starting a new row), but more distant than yesterday, but same impeccable timing and duration. And as I was doing an extra 30 min. of work (having ``decided`` about 10 min. earlier), why, two black fighter jets - in formation and doing a large climbing bank to the W opposite the vineyard. the roar was heard a long way off (aka, noise track). There was blackish pulsing emanations coming from each of them, per usual with any aircraft in my experience, including single engine prop aircraft which are less likely to have radar that the perps typically co-opt to source magnetic and maser pulses from. There are no aircraft fighter bases nearby, as Canada has a rather paltry air force, so what were they doing here.

Yet again, now five days in succession, dog-barking noise was arranged exactly at the moment I cut a shoot to thin it out. These dog-bark spells go for at least 30 min., and two or more a day. Amazing what tricks dogs can do, har, har.

An ant attack this morning (about 40 or so, micro-ants, so very small), and then this evening, having "forgotten" the first instance at breakfast. I was infuriated beyond comprehension as they came from nowhere, and were populating my coconut butter jar, which I threw out into the garbage with a half inch left. How the perps love me throwing out good food, and how they love stalking me with garbage trucks of every kind. And today "happens" to be garbage pick up day. All too coordinated from my perspective.

And the perp assholes were on the teleporting crumb games in conjunction with cleaning up after the micro-ants; coconut butter would arrive from 4ft away, all by itself and opposite in direction from where I was facing the kitchen counter. It has been a major crumb attack week. And I see that my black briefcase was dusted with white crumbs, another sourvenier mess from the electrician (apparently) from two days ago. The fucking pig doesn`t know a mess when he makes one.

I was allowed to remember my daughter's birthday today, in order to phone her. She phoned back later in the day when I was in the vineyard, and the reception was terrible for all the trellis wires and being near the power lines too. (Or, more like perp management, read on). Good for a sudden disconnection, as well as me wondering if she was still on the line. The perps like to disconnect phones, computers etc. as there must be some kind of neural energetic properties they are attempting to detect with the aid of electromagnetic devices. Not to mention the "what did you say?", "I thought I heard..." verbal cognition FUD games which suddenly became endemic since 04-2002.

As another example last week, I left a phone message with my landlord/lady and then I get a text message in reply (I thought) about two minutes later. So I do the texting thing and lo, if I find out that it was just "pure coincidence" that she was sending me a text about the very subject of my phone message.

New laundry games commence, as this place (moved in June 01,2013) does not have a washer or dryer. Which means no end of perp fuckery as they so do love to mess with laundry machines, make intractable stains, alter clothing colors, stop the machines in mid-cycle, steal laundry sometimes (3 same black work socks of six pairs "lost" at the last place from the washing machine alone),have foam creep out the top of the washing machine, have coin operated machines steal money etc. Even at 0900h on a Saturday morning the freaks were out; 3 of 7 customers were rude asses, sneaking in close without an "excuse me". Some 5/7 customers were tattoo-ed, and wanted me to know it, bar arms exposed. One chinese man was posted next to my washing machine when I returned, maybe 10 min. after the load was done. He wasn't seeming to be doing much, and had the partial back turn directed at me in that all to familiar double back twist; forward and to the side away from me, no matter how contrived it is. (No wonder the perps like me to do yoga). Then the walked the length of the laundromat with a red bucket for crissakes, and then returned to do fuck all again, puttering at the adjacent washing machine. Then one of my ball-capper stalkers at the last (wintertime motel) residence, he of the shades and ball cap sitting outside and smoking butt and doing squat at 0615h, "happened" to be doing his laundry there too. Such a coincidence; and did he ever come a long way fast; a new shiny Ford Ranger towing a 20' late model travel trailer with mag wheels, no less. And again, smoking butt in the doorway of his travel trailer parked in the parking lot. And here I thought he was just a shiftless elder-vagrant, as he had no vehicle at the last place and seemed to be there just to loiter. (Vagrants are one of the most used gangstalk demographic subpopulations, as they have a perfect excuse to hang around -ergo, Dallas, Nov. 22, 1963). I see the laundromat opens at 0700h, and will report on the freakshow count next week.

I will post this today, Saturday, as it wraps up another weekly cycle, even if a day earlier. Somewhere, someone, (I suspect) has got me figured out as a Sunday-posting blogger, and being a day late or day early is just too hilarious of an inconvenience for the perps (read, deranged mofo of the Fourth Reich) not to invoke.