Tuesday, January 07, 2014

Flight Follies

Finally, getting out of the First Feral Family (FFF) house after four weeks of my mother's batshit wacko nonsense, dithering, obstructing.

And what a jerkaround in getting onto the flight, as I nearly didn't make it. I got there an hour early with my perp abetting mother and ex-wife, and did the baggage check in, and there was no line at security, and the two perp abettors needed breakfast. Twenty minutes later, there was 60' line, and it was hardly moving. The flight was boarding when I got to the end of it. As it "happened", a blonde woman and her husband were just ahead of me, and in talking with my ex, the blonde woman learned that I was on the same flight as she and we would be fine. Ten minutes later, the line hadn't moved very much and it was 15 min. to flight time. She reiterated her observation that we would make it on OK.

Some two minutes later, she says something to her husband who slinks off out of the security line, and then she proceeds to move her way up the line past waiting passengers. I then was allowed to "get it"; it was a disinfo stunt on top of the lineup eruption stunt. So I do the same, but the security officer is controlling the last 12' of the line, and she sneaks through, yakking to someone. Still it doesn't look good, but then a "break", they open up a new security line. But they take away immediate progress with a family of three with a baby carrier and give them a total search, even with the wand for crissakes over his fucking red shirt. Said family has so much crap going through the X-ray that I still had to wait a minute to get my coat and briefcase. Finally, I get to the gate, and the plane is waiting, with the customer service person with her head down. She tells me that I was being paged, and phones to cancel the "baggage pull". I get on board with 4 minutes to spare and everyone is in their seats, and there is hardly a seat availible, just the odd one in a two seats per side of the center aisle. I get to my row, and why, both seats on my side are empty, and on the opposite side, one is also empty with the window seat occupied by this disgusting looking negro woman. And so the flight went, with a seat, aisle and seat between us in the row, and no other row was anywhere close to being that unoccupied.

the usual "all rise" clusterfuck in the aisle of the aircraft when it was time to disembark, and the negro woman moves in close as part of the arrangements, and eventually stands up behind me. I finally get off, and lo, if she isn't exiting out of the rear, not having known there was a rear exit in use. Said negro dogs me again at the luggage delivery conveyor, needing to get 6' close for  no reason when there was plenty of room elsewhere. The she moves another few feet away, and later outside, there she is again. The blonde disinfo woman was standing off to the side some 20' away, and it was mighty curious that she didn't mention anything to me about being fortunate to make the flight. And too, neither of the perp-abettors who caused this entire fuckaround had the gumption to phone me up later to see if I got back OK. The fucking assholes, all of them; FFF abettors, the blonde disinfo woman, the negro gangstalking set up and the rest of it, e.g. getting me totally stressed out while the loaded and waiting aircraft was sitting in the passenger loading area.

I get back to find my ISP bill on table, find out no internet, "accomplished" by the following trail of coincidences fucking up the email billing request when the account was set up, obstructing my first mailed bill in November, and then fucking me out of phoning about it when I took my account info with me for the last four weeks at the FFF house. All artfully timed for when I was away and not using said internet connection.

Yoga later, and I was wrong about calling for a negro gangstalker to be inserted into class in my last blog posting, but instead, had the above mentioned negro-stalker on the flight. After four weeks at the FFF house and excessive negro exposure on TV starting with the Mandela funeral and the rest of it, the perps had to get one last negro-stalk on the flight after setting me up, per above.

And at yoga the darling pixie instructor even smiled at me when I came in, a sudden change in "temperament' (read arranged grimacing) after some six months of the past year of being so terse and avoidant, save when she was in front of the whole class.

And it is always a big gangstalking and fuckover scene after an aircraft flight; they were all over me at the organics store, then the LD store, where some strangeness at the till with a dude dropping off a gym bag at the checkout, though a seeming a customer and the mega-fat woman cashier stayed heads down, the first time I have seen her there.

Onto winery, bench testing, measuring getting fucked into more messes and even got pushed over by an unseen localized gravity push at one point.

Grado headphones finally repaired after they got fucked (in same used box that I sent from the FFF house, Victoria, arriving in Penticton. A used box that housed new Logicraft speakers that my mother suddenly seemed to need when getting the new printer. She never had any sound from her PC before, and we are talking 12 years worth or so.

Still, the perps wouldn't let them play at first; the track was playing but there was no sound. A screaming rage show reminding them that they fucked these headphones for over ten years, brought results, and the assholes finally let them play. A Fuckover stunt of late; not allowing the first song sample in an Amazon album list to play, and then it suddenly kicks for later songs in the list, usually after I yell at them for obstructing music listening

Plenty of other screaming rage shows today while outside; blowing wind suddenly gusting up to foil the laydown of plastic sheets on the tanks, pulling my had off countless times while working under the just-pruned fruit trees and then getting whipped in the face too often as the prunings just "happened" to flick that way.

Aft that a pissy doctor office assistant about my health card as it had no text on it; I explained that it did three months ago when I was there, and hadn't used the card since. My driver's licence info, and prior visitation details was good enough.The next day I learned that the health card magnetic stripe is readable, had the pissy act bothered to learn her job, but then again, getting pissy was the priority, read on.

A dental cleaning appointment today, after getting fucked around yesterday as to which day it was. No harm done sve bgetting FUD-ed and made the appointment on time. Making me miss appointments is a perp stunt, though they don't often pull this now, but instead, jerk me around as to which day, having me tell others the wrong day, and later having me later inform them I was "mistaken" etc.Immediately following, a blood draw and an urine sample at the adjacent lab, fallout from yesterday's doctor visitation.

Same health card at the lab, though I explained to the office assistant that it had no identifying text on the card (my plastic wallet cards are often delaminating, breaking up etc.), but that the magnetic stripe on the back side might be readable. She tried it, and lo, it was and got the details she needed. Like WTF; the pissy office assistant over this same health care card somehow didn't know about the machine readable magnetic stripe, and instead decided (read, orchestrated response) to get pissy on me instead.

What is it that the perps like to set up asshole/pissy stunts and then have me register the person (in mind) as a certified asshole/shill, and then later show them to me again, possibly 5-10 minutes later, or even months later. One blonde bitch cashier at Rona yanked the receipt from my hand after giving it to me, all to perform their ritual of swiping their fingernail on it while the reciept placed on the counter. All the cashiers at Rona are trained to do this, and perform this hundreds of times a day, and "for some reason" she somehow forgot for this TI victim. Anyhow, every few weeks I return to Rona for some odd item, and lo, if this same bitch isn't on show, sometimes at an info counter. I call this "asshole cred"; purposely building credibility as an asshole, usually for some curious reason unrelated to anything I might of done or said, or even before I do anything. And as part of it, having the designated asshole put on show later for reprising my reactions.

The perps are back at cooling this place down again; the heat was reset on 01-06-2014 from 16C to 22C, and the other non-connected thermostat indicates 19C today. There was plenty of keeping me near chilled at the FFF for the past month, but bringing this fuckery here is a piss-off.

I drop off my stool sample at the lab at 0730h, and lo, if there wasn't eight vehicles parked outside. Exciting times in "browning around" IMHO. And to add to the mix, why, an East Indian woman lab tech was posted at the desk to recieve my sample, standing there next to the same seated medical assistant of yesterday. Done and gone, though the timing of the sampling was interesting, that being last night, read on.

I am presently reading Mary's Mosaic, the story of Mary Pinchot Meyer, a secret lover of JFK in his last two years, and who was murdered in broad daylight on a public walking trail, almost a year after JFK. They never did find a murderer, and her substantial journals went  missing shortly thereafter. The author, Stephen Janney, grew up with Mary's son of the same age, until 9 yo. when he was killed in a MVA. They were fast friends, as were the parents of both sides and their other respective children. Anyhow, I had finished the substantial chapter on the murder and then the police activity shortly thereafter which resulted in arresting the wrong person, once the trial was concluded. And so, at this point, the imposed "need" to crap came on, and of course there was that stool sample kit, and so the deed was done. I attach great significance to perp impositions in temporal association with what I am doing, or have just done. And so it seemed the event of reading this engrossing and pivotal chapter in the book was "perp worthy" enough to warrant a follow-on stool sampled crap (rare, 8 or 9 years since the last one). Follow the money they say, but in these circumstances follow the brown, all the way to the treatment plant, or the Strait of Juan de Fuca in the case of the last town, Victoria.

As always, I look for possible perp controlled games in any story of note, and the lead witness in the murder of Mary Pinchot Meyer was a car mechanic who was called nearby to attend to a stalled Rambler Nash at nearby roadside. The altercation between the assailant and the victim was overheard, and so the mechanic ran to a wall that was on a height of ground that offered a view, he seeing a negro male standing over the prone and bleeding body who just walked away. After the police were called, via radio as the mechanic`s vehicle had one, why, the stalled vehicle just disappeared. And any of the garage`s work orders and paper work devoted to the mechanics`call out just went totally missing, never to be found. another made-in-perp-land vignette I thought was interesting was about a month after JFK`s murder, and Mary Pinchot Meyer was walking this same public pathway (a canal towpath as termed in the book), as she did every day, and there was this incredible onset of a blinding snow squall, to the level of not seeing more than 20`ahead. No one else was around as she progressed further, until she saw a figure coming toward her, who happened to be a good friend, Jacqueline Kennedy. They embraced, conversed, and of course ...... about the loss of Jacqueline`s husband, JFK. And I assume, Mary Pinchot Meyer was nearly equally distraught over JFK`s demise, though surely was sufficiently discreet to not mention her liason with Jacqueline`s late husband. I find this extraordinarily fascinating, each woman bearing considerable grief over the recent and tragic loss of the same man, meeting on this towpath as the only figures in a blinding snow squall. And have I mentioned the many times where there is something perp managed for me to see, and it is arranged that the object suddenly arrives from around a corner or is pictured framed such that much of the background is removed so the object, a person very often, is framed between two obstructing perps. (The punctuation keys are on the fritz again). In other words, the perps remove or obstruct much of my visual landscape to have the designated object (of Unfavored feature) stand apart from the rest of the field. And so, in this one time encounter of two deeply grieving women, they meet as lone figures in a snow storm on this public towpath. Another instance when my coincidence detection meter goes off.

An 8x fuckover stunt stream of playing a new CD; unhandled exceptions x3, disc load problem x2, truncated identical fragmentary sound bursts x3, plus at least another pissaround with the headphone jack and pinching the headphone cord under the wheels of my office chair. Welcome to TI World, where the act of putting on a new CD has to turn into a screaming rage show.

The just-repaired (again) Grado headphones finally work in both channels, and so far, no gimbel spinning sabotage that erupted in 2002, and I FINALLY, after 12 years get to listen some decent fidelity sound. Imagine sabotaging a victim's music listening experience in the full for 12 years. And making me pay to get them fixed, both times. Never mind the runty headphones they had me use all those years, and another prior pair also got taken out.

A hair cut, leg wax; cute girl, save the 3" tattoo on her R wrist, who did both, with jet black hair dropping over her face and the odd spike of hair from a loose bun at the back. The perps know exactly, more than I do, as to what kind of female hair style gets my interest the most, and they nailed it this time. I could of stared at her hair for an hour or more, watching every flick and spill. (Not that she was making any effort to show off, but to the contrary, she was decidedly demure and borderline avoidant). Tight hair buns I don't like I have come to realize in the past six weeks or so, having seen many of the latter variant. And did not an alien abduction book identify the bun wearing females as the "breeders". Hmm, I wonder if I encountered that look in the "lost years", as in recall wiped years, aged 2 to 5, though I would of been hard pressed to conceptualize the term "breeder" at the time.

[new, since first posted, though re-posted the same day if you end up revisiting this paragraph]
Back to the haircut and waxing aesthetician or whatever they call themselves. At one point she indicated that Penticton (where she grew up and now lives) was "a good place to settle down and have a family", and then she looks at me. Given her avoidant heads down demeanor, I found this most strange that this particular line was delivered with the stare-at-me treatment. Regular readers of some six months ago will know that my vineyard boss delivered a statement about "for your wedding" while looking at me, as I think this started when she was telling me about a place to get party supplies. Like WTF; why do I get these specific and pointed future directed comments about weddings, family etc.? For the record, I don't ever check out dating sites, and at the wages I earn I couldn't support a house cat. Nor do I have any romantic notions after being thoroughly disabused of the state of human-hood by way of this relentless perp abuse. Not to mention the ex being a underhanded fuck-up by way of perp direction, and the follow-on Ms. C was another passive-agressive jerkaround artist that I was glad to see the back of in 2003. So with this long standing order of fucking the TI victim with romantic interests, never mind the rest of this fucking hell I have been cast into, why do I get this nonsense about future wedding and family? Just give me a cabin on 10 acres and leave me the fuck alone; that is all I ever ask if the perps don't have the gumption, as it seems, to end this vile psychopathic outrage NOW.

And the "usual" fuckery at the front desk of this hair salon/aesthetics school I go to. Not usual there, but everywhere; customer at the front with a billing problem, joined by a second granny who seemed to be part of it. After being ignored for five minutes I sat down and still it was another five minutes before this posing bullshit didn't go unnoticed. The prime problem granny customer was in some kind of animal fur jacket; light brown with white stripes and black spots. Then a cute babe arrives, but isn't an apparent customer and stands on the opposite side of the shop from where I was seated in the customer waiting area. Cute she was but not flaunting it, with low bangs and long trailing hair and deep dark doe eyes, and in a solid color light brown jacket with white fur edging that went halfway down her ample ass (borderline disproportionate) that was wrapped up in black tights. An intriguing look so say the least, apart from the light brown jacket color, the brown tone being almost identical to that of the brown in the granny's mixed color fur jacket described above. Anyhow, this cute babe didn't get to join the regular customers and at some point walked back ahead of me. How she got this prefered customer treatment without even hanging at the reception desk was beyond me.

Then a grandmother granny in darker brown outfit came into the waiting area with two grandsons under 5 y.o. who were there for hair cuts, and she had to wait until they got settled. A few minutes later my hair cutter, later waxer, came for me, and I ended up beside one  of the kids in the line up of the extra closer customer's barber chairs.

And as it happened, (har, har),  in the past four weeks, both the lead hair cutting instructor and the waxing/aesthetics instructor had moved onto other jobs somewhere, and my hair cutting cutie didn't know where they went. Mighty curious in this job strapped town as to how both of the leading instructors came to leave for unknown jobs elsewhere. And have I not mentioned more than once that participating shills, especially those who are reasonably socially engaged with me end up with better jobs/prospects elsewhere? No question that the perps like to move personnel on, especially with any kind of extended contact (hair cuts every six weeks for two years). But both of them moving on inside of four weeks (that I was away) when they were clearly established in their respective roles and worked well together as/when needed. My coincidence meter just went off again.

Feel a little ill this morning; they backed me off from drinking more than one cup of coffee and no chocolate this morning. The infernal ear ringing noise seems to be louder and will sometimes change in pitch if I move my head too quick (for them).

And they did make me throw up about an hour afterward, and had me lie down after for an hour or so. No wonder they wanted to get me up early, 0700h to get all that done, never mind the cleaning up that was needed, even if I was centered over the toilet. A light brown it was too, and of course, breakfast food fragments.

Then when recovered, it was lunch time, then the tanning need came on, and now back to Fuckover Central on this dull winter day. A six strong herd erupted in the lobby of the tanning salon, arranged there for my exiting through the middle of them. I cannot fathom why groups go tanning at a salon. No one else there when I arrived, save the attendant, she of a low cut top, front and back to show off her tattoos over her tan. And aren't artificial eyelashes so ridiculous that no one wears them anymore? Not her, not in this town.

A skunk on getting my recent car audio gear installed, yesterday and today. A M-F kind of business it seems. Yesterday they had me haul it around in my vehicle, but screwed me out of getting it installed nearby while getting my haircut and waxing done. It seemed more important to the perps that I read about particle physics for 20 minutes, thereby screwing me out of getting my prior lunch made as planned. (Same food item, quesadilla that is cut into four).

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