Sunday, January 05, 2014

Happy Hindering New Year

No year is new with the same affronts, stunts, jerkarounds, arranged adversities and obstructions as a TI. Departing this mortal plane would be the most welcome change I can imagine. But instead, it is one continuous stream of abuse of an unconventional kind, and the Pause button is rarely used (2x, each a few hours), and End-of-Psychopathic-Fuckover deployment is surely years away if the planted ideations are anything to go by. The planted BS has me getting married to whomever the operative will be, though there has been a constant theme (10+ years) about one particular female of nationwide repute that I won't get into for now. And hardly an hour goes by when they don't plant notions of working in the northern Alberta oil-patch and adjusting to a cold clime, the landscape and the male mentality in blue collar-land. How I would get there from a job in vineyard work in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia is a considerable mystery, but it was drawn to my attention that a 5 year-ago change of unemployment benefits (in Canada) will not be paid if one refuses to relocate. Got it. Never mind that I have applied a dozen times prior to 2012 for oilpatch jobs and never once got a response. (The online questions, go like; "like to work outside?", "can you lift 50lb" etc.) Every so often I get someone telling me about such work being "dangerous and dirty" or else overhear the male job banter about Alberta jobs etc. Go fuck yourselves, which is my answer to any kind of planning to perturb the meagre status quo.

My perp abetting mother started the so-called New Year by hindering me in the kitchen again, artfully dithering in front of the fridge when I wanted to get there, then again at a cupboard, and and again. Not bad for a dipshit act that has unerring knack of obstruction timing every fucking morning.

And a spotty Global TV show last night, bringing in the New Year. A certain performer was on, and she sang well, but all decked out in black leather, with her oversized leather patterned jacket with high shoulder pads was positively Reptilian. Her blue dyed flat-bob hairstyle didn't do much for me either. Perhaps I have seen Reptilians in my recall-blanked years and harbor psychic stress and armoring from meeting such creatures in the flesh, so to speak. There has been plenty of other alien simulations in the ongoing freak show, and over the past year, the Stick-men have featured prominently as Shaw TV's (owners of Global TV here) advertising, (may need to look at other Shaw links as it will change) including last night. I had never heard of the Stick Men (and here) until seeing a TV show that reviewed paranormal claims,  and here these things were on a surveillance video tape. My exposure to many differing alien sites and stories had never revealed the Stick Men until 02-2013. But as Shaw Cable is a prominent gangstalking commercial operation (blue trades vans and boom trucks out, even on Sundays), why should I be surprised? And too, as the predominant internet providers, and given the color of the cable and the composition of the lines and all things else related to perp fuckery, surely they must be a perp operation.

And what is with the extra ear-ringing today? I just want to stop it but I cannot. And if I plug my ears, why, an electronic cheeping chatter becomes very evident and doesn't let up.

I drove my in-town brother and his sort-of Thai girlfriend to the airport tonight. He even added some of his garage sale booty into the vehicle and wanted me to put it into the crawl space of the First Feral Family house. Some of it was these mini-totem poles in wood, a collectable in these here parts, and other was his silver booty he collects and sells as scrap. No doubt it was some kind of perp arrangement, as it is highly unlikely he would trust me to his booty while heading off to Thailand for a month. And I would be gone by the time he got back. Way too trusting for him, to be sure. That some of it ended up beside some of my belongings in the same crawl space didn't go unnoticed.

When I got back from dropping them off, my perp-abetting mother locked the house door on me, the one that enters onto a closed garage. There was no need to lock as the garage door was locked. It has two different keys, which is usually no problem, as both are on the key chain for the vehicle. And lo, if one of them wasn't now missing, and I had to ring the door bell a number of times as her deaf act had to play out. I cannot count the number of times she has pulled this fucking act, and the fucking jerkaround to get her attention from door poundings and doorbell ringings. One time she locked two back doors on me when she knew I was outside gardening. Which is part of a major perp stunt theme, having locks not work, or otherwise get thwarted in entering a building. It is not only a delay act to keep me at a doorway for longer, and not just an infuriation tactic. There is something energetically/psychically intrinsic about opening a lock, or a door, that the perps need to find out, and I seem to be the Prime Fuckover Victim for this particular non-consensual research sub-objective.

This same expectation-of-action fuckery of unexpected locked doors is also manifested by the countless times mouse clicks and even physical buttons that don't work at first, and then do. It doesn't matter who's computer, and can be extended to that all-time blunder-fingers platform, touch screen phones.

I mentioned to my brother on the way to the airport, after witnessing an example, of a Fuckwit crossing in front of me while stopped at a traffic light who couldn't make a L turn without cutting the corner of the opposite L lane (no vehicle there) by 2'. I said the Victoria drivers have suddenly got the "Penticton Driving Disease", where they now regularly do this, progressively getting more evident over 2012 and 2013. This particular arranged driving "habit" never happened in Victoria with any noticeable regularity from 2002 to 12-2011 while here, though plenty of other extra-conventional driving stunts were evident every day. Now, it has erupted in Victoria, replicating the Penticton driving behavior. Of course so substantive reason came from my brother; why does he bother to try when he comes across as a illogical dupe? So here we have a particular, and arranged IMHO, driving worse-ity now following me from one city to another. Not just once, or once per day, but at about the same rate as where I normally live, 6 or more per day if driving more than 20 minutes. Again, I have driven in busier cities, LA, Seattle, SF, London UK pre-overt perp berserk onset of 04-2002, and I have never seen such consistent and outrageous worse-ities anywhere. But now, Victoria (pop. 300k) and Penticton (pop. 36k) drivers somehow follow the spectacularly bad driving habits of those in each city; having moved from Victoria to Penticton, and now, Penticton to Victoria temporarily.

A fine start to the day, with an extra 1.5 hour "hit" on my sleep time, 9.5 hours in all. Not only did I get the forced piss to send me downstairs, my my perp-abetting mother timed her arrival to intend to cluster fuck me at the house mid-level where the up and down staircases meet. So fuck that, I hung back until she got the the kitchen and ascended the stairs, and lo, if she didn't do a back and forth to then precede me, but flapping her arms for some bullshit reason. The batshit-wacko act is getting very thin when all these archetypal perp moves are delivered with such precision and even thwarting my intended countermeasures. And it is plain that the perps are upping the inanity/obstruction/intrusion ante as they arranged two service delivery boom trucks, a long standing vehicular preference, to sit outside and block the driveway, facing back to back to facilitate the transfer of telephone cable from one truck to the other. And too, their staff standing around in day-glo outfits, another perp garment fabric choice of greater regularity. Got all that?

To detail the perp moves in all of the above, here it the breakdown;
  • blocking a private driveway with two vehicles for over 30 minutes with no prior notice,
  • parking a vehicle on the wrong side of the road
  • having TWO boom trucks arrayed outside
  • transferring cable to large (3' diameter) drums (did you ever think that the cable drums sitting outside the Pentagon where Flight 77 "arrived" on 09-11-2001 nearby by was a construction leftover happenchance?) -can't seem to get any good web pics of this
  • arranging a cluster of "Day-glo's" (my term for hi-viz dressed gangstalking personnel) to stand around and do next to squat, save for one feeling the cable as it passed from one drum to the other. (Can we say, measure the energetic interaction of a male shill/operative outside the FFF house where the TI victim is resident after 11.5 years of plastics materials testing games, one among so many other themes?).
And here is few pics of this high outrage (to me) outside the First Feral Family house at 0930h:

 They did get down to some real looking work afterward, starting at the FFF adjacent pole, and not before pit-lamping me (pickup with lights on) when I took the shot.

Anyhow, onto a visit to the window sales people and their plant as my mother started up this about replacing windows at the back. Not unexpectedly, a royal vehicular gangstalk on the way there. Then the prerequisite "ignore me/us" so-called service for 10 minutes when we were the only customers in the small-ish showroom. The fat , fifty-ish and fugly male finally made contact, and it didn't take him more than three minutes to act semi-bored, like he heard all this before. (This should be a $15k job for crissakes). His visage will make a visit to this FFF house tomorrow at 1000h; I can hardly wait.

Later, when coming back the telco crew had made further progress, enough to pinch the secondary access road down to one lane, 100' ahead of the L turn that I made where it was again limited to one lane immediately after I made turn into the (flag-girl directed) opposite lane to get around the second boom truck. (A pass-the-boom-truck variation; blocking the opposite lane E bound, then blocking my lane, forcing me into the flag-girl opposite lane N bound. Have we talked about the anisotropic properties of energy and its manifestation in fucking TI's before?  Not recently, but check the labels if interested). [Anisotropic; different physical properties in differing directions -e.g. wood; easily to split longitudinally, but not from any other axis.] At least the flag-girls were attractive, even if stuffed in day-glo suits and hardhats. A rare side bonus from all the telco "maintenance" activity that happens to erupt all too often, usually in the service of forcing alternate directional use of a roadway.

More obstruction fuckery tonight from my perp abetting mother tonight; she was in the kitchen and I saw about five minutes of a documentary on TV where whales and other sea creatures were forced/confused by sonar and ran ashore, and one (or some) were of huminoid form and were examined and scanned before the S. African authorities seized the body, but not the scan data. It was suggested, with other evidence examples, that mermaids were for real. I was just getting into this new revelation (to me) when my mother came in and wanted some UK accents heavy show on another channel. Another obstructionist stunt, though not of the morning time breakfast making hindering fuckery that has gone on most days since I arrived here, Dec. 07. I cannot wait to get the fuck out of here, only two more full days to go.

Other planted perp ideations that have reached a 100x/hour rate some days, not all, is the notion of getting my 200lb girth reduced to 175lb or so by way of liposuction. I saw the doctor 01-2013, and had an expensive quote at twice what I expected, and some months later my mother "happened" to send me most of the money as some kind of bequest to each of us three brothers, and is promising more in the last few days. Though I know that such promises are flat-out disinfo, especially from that source. So it seems that is going to happen, as even my rejecting responses (mind talk ones) are getting sharply reduced in duration. And the sight of my disgusting paunch, though not even average as far as paunches go, is somehow eliciting more of a planted visceral reaction. The notion of being KO'ed with anesthetic gas for any duration frankly scares the shit out of me as I just don't know what else the perp assholes will do, and in what condition I will be afterward. One could surmise that I have a body dysmorphic perspective, but if I don't like the sight of overweight persons, (and I get plenty of this gangstalker theme), then why would I like my own extra girth that has strangely increased over the past ten years when I eat less than I ever have?

It became clear to me that body morphology could be remotely manipulated as the assholes cycled me from 195lb to 185lb in 2002, and then puffed me up to 220lb and then dropped me down back to 195lb until 2012 when they increased me to 200lb. All in the guise of medication changes of course, though with their trademark "clue inconsistency trail" they like to leave. Though, in this post-Christmas state, after relentless provision of cakes, cookies, pastries etc. (never less than three on the go, and that many again as remnant portions), I might be 205lb. And as I try to avoid ingestion of gluten, as it is so horribly bad for anyone, not just celiacs, why, even that 20 year diet habit has been somehow forgotten during this FFF stay.

Another trait of this FFF stay has been my batshit wacko dipshitting by my mother to drive me into infuriation, though not directly at her. That is, to increase the infuriation level from extra-conventional adverse physical fuckery, and to have me express this louder as my perp-abetting mother's hearing seems to be much worse than last year. If in doubt, fuck the victim more; a perp credo I learned long ago.

Only two days left at the FFF until I flee back to my place in Penticton.

More dip shitting, my mother starting to yap it up when I was watching a movie on TV last night, and it is at least the second time she has screwed me out of some decent dialog/entertainment on tv with this same technique in two days.

Then more of her dipshitting over flashlights again; looking at the PC with a LED flashlight, as it is too dark, this after finding the sun streaming in was too bright. As always, she manages to inadvertently (ahem) flick the light in my face at least once per stunt/dipshit show. Other LED related nonsense of a few days ago was the cheap-assed PA flashlight breaking up in my pocket, and yesterday's gangstalked trip to the red-shirt hardware store for my mother to get yet another flashlight. This after I fixed one a few weeks ago. Then off to get batteries for another flashight, button cells to get it working. Later, I got to install the batteries in yesterday's acquired flashlight as my mother couldn't find her way into the removable cover, even if it was the only steel screw on the whole thing.

Outside the tanning salon this am, why, a  vehicle was parked outside, the LED tail lights left on the entire time, there for entering and exiting the place. Not to mention LED lights have a "habit" of projecting beams from the physical bulbs in stobing like style right at me, the city buses routinely doing this for years. The bema interuption safety LEDs in the FFF have an everytime habit of strobing me in a stream for a few seconds per glance.

More perp-abetting mother battshit wacko dialog, this taking the cake. It was about the safety deposit key of three weeks ago when the bank told me that I had been given two keys when I had only one, and it was a $50 charge for the missing one. I decided to hold off on closing the box and see if I can find the key in Penticton after rooting through my crawl space stored boxes that haven't made it there. My mother says yesterday, "maybe the second one it is on your key ring". Like WTF; I have had the deposit box key on my keyring for ten years, and only one, and she knew this from past discussions on this tiresome topic she artfully revisits when I figure it is done. This all time wacko suggestion has to be the lowlight of the past months' stupidity I get flooded with. One can be sure if my mother is beating on a theme, it is perp arranged.

Yoga at my farm-worker friend's place, the third such visitation this past month. R was there too, something I know of in advance, negro friend of hers and who I know from at least two past farm jobs. I though R was going to be doing yoga too, but she begged off. And so, it was with the yoga DVD with a Caucasian woman instructor and two negroes (one M, F) to do alternate poses. I would characterize a this as negro pre-conditioning; one live one in advance, to be followed by the seen-before two on DVD. Maybe this "negro thing", (just one of the Unfavored Freak show as I see it after 11.5 years of this bullshit), the perps have been intensely focused on this past month while at the FFF house will be done, now that Mandela made his exit, the Mandela bio movie advertising will be past and I don't own a TV for the rest of the exposures in the news and advertising, as I don't own a TV. I doubt it though, as they like to keep the same theme going in other locations, at least for a while. I will call it now; a negro in my next yoga classes in Penticton next week.

The boom trucks again yesterday; first the tree service arrived next door at 0800 to get me up, getting the scene prepped, as that is where the telco workers arrived a few hours later and "happened" to resume work from the prior day again. it seems we have a junction pole outside. Two boom trucks and then the foursome of flag-girls again, all in day-glo. Both boom trucks later came to drive into the FFF driveway to turn around for some curious reason, one after the other, something my perp-abetting mother drew to my attention.

Said tree was on private property, and wasn't that a coincidence that the neighbor had his tree cleaned up then, but only that one?

The erstwhile telco crew came back later in the afternoon to yet again to do their cable installations, possibly running their paws over the cable casing like yesterday.

As if enough morning time commercial truck games hadn't erupted over the past two days, why, a fuel truck delivery at about 0900h, and at about 1300h, the recycle garbage people were coursing back and forth as they only do one side of the street for some reason, this being a low traffic subdivision.

Another fuckaround, getting screwed out of an interesting doc on TV on the Sochi Olympics, Russian style, "Putin's Games". My mother's now unerring need to watch some UK regular show -more UK accents. And to drive me upstairs onto this PC. Forget being able to watch hockey games; I haven's seen one since I have been here for a month with a TV. Talk about a Canadian sacrilege.

A dullified day, all to get my angst up when going to the old folks home to see the FFF father, dementia and wheelchair bound resident. The feckless asshole who was half responsible for this current 11.5 abusive outrage. His one-time response to all of this was about five years ago when he oddly came out of dementia character, after I was complaining about the harassment, and he said, "it can't be as bad as all that". Here is this addled shit, and then has the temerity to tell me how bad the harassment is, when he made out all along he didn't know about it. (Gangstalking my ass at the FFF all the while though).

The perps kept me in an ancy mood the entire time, almost an hour, while at this god-forsaken place, all these wheelchairs with shriveled bodies on board, usually sleeping or totally out of it, mouths agape for the most part. Don't ever put me in one of those places; Dignitas and gone; a one-way ticket to Switzerland is all I need, plus a responsible care party to get me there.

And a flush of red vehicles when I drove back; there was red colored Christmas decorations in the orange carry bag my mother had, so maybe that was the reason for the perps' red fixation.

And during this visit, some sit-around "visit" time to the upstairs activity room, my father falling asleep inside five minutes. Then the more capable elder-cases started moving in, begining 40' away. One strange overweight and prone mofo was in a wheelchair, with this young male at the table reading a newspaper. I thought he was a staff member at first, but no. They did banter a bit, and were joined in 10 min. by another male. Neither looked like children of this prone mofo, and the latter one wasn't spoken to by the wheelchair mofo/patient. Finally, I convinced my dipshit mother that the visit was pointless, (FFF father was sleeping), and we took him down to his room. Anyhow, she putzed around downstairs and took 5 min. to find and pour a cup of orange juice, and my father drank it up reasonably quickly for once, as I thought this was going to be another stall ruse.

More putzing to finish off, we finally get upstairs to the main desk where my mother does her log sign-out dithering, and there was a 8 party clusterfuck (10 people in all) with wheelchairs coursing past, others coming in the main doors, and others doing whatever. I stand to the side to let all this bullshit sort itself out, and the two dudes of the above odd-care situation/gangstalk are now standing around doing absolutely nothing as part of the aforementioned clusterfuck and just looking stupid, not even trying to look that they were going to sign out. (As they were there first, they should of finished anyhow). My mother was finally done with signing out, and as I was near the door, I follow the instructions on the keypad and the front door opens. It is only then that the two dudes decide to get in motion, and follow me and my mother out. Like WTF; neither of these dudes looked like they belonged in the first place when first visiting, then timed their stand-around the desk when I arrived some 15 minutes later, and then stood stupid-like as part of the clusterfuck, and then move toward me to follow me out only when I had the front door open. Most times in these follow-me skits, they have a reason to stand around, say, speaking with the front desk personnel and the conversation adroitly ending at the presribed instant, to then tail me. Not this crew; make it obvious, and all the more so with the guppy pose (mouth hanging open), and add in some fugly Unfavored features (male, red hair, tight curly hair). I be glad to get the fuck out of this town tomorrow.

Enough for today, unless some brilliant observations come on later tonight, and so I will post this now (1540h).


Anonymous said...

Watch People in Grocery stores.
you should be able to spot a few without cart hold an item or two in there hand walking around for much longer than it seems necessary.

tired of this dump

AJH said...

Answer to: Watch people..."
I don't go out of my way to determine public activity incongruities, grocery store shopping being an especially obvious gangstalk milieu. I would check out of this mortal plane if I could, but such a departure isn't allowed for this long running gauntlet of abusive psychopathy.