Sunday, June 15, 2014

Manic Monday Again

Nothing like a Monday to get the victim riled up; a letter (finally, two months late) asking for $15k of overpayment of my disabiltiy benefits. Seemingly it is not enough to sink me financially in the past, they must do it again. Last October, (11-2013) I was attempting to discontinue these disability payments, but "somehow" I forgot. Then in December (12-2013), no one mentioned anything about them, which to me, confirms a financial hit was in the making.

More BS over getting shafted on finding roomies; a male (I assume) was looking for a roomie for a 1600 sq. ft. condo, and the room had a private bathroom. (After the sudden onset of toilet blocking assaults in this same situation on 2012, it is very important to have one's own shitter). I sent all the major relevant information to the person, and they sent their phone number back within two hours. I phoned, and no answer, and I left a message. No returned message, and I phoned again, and still no response. The promising lead went totally dead. Or more like, the ruse had run its course. I cannot count the number of times I have been looking for roomies or jobs, and the right situation comes up, save one deal breaker. This time, no deal breaker, just no response.

My new monitor arrived today, packed in a brown cardboard box, with more brown cardboard inserts to keep it in the middle of the box. And it was also the excuse for getting all my Firefox tabs wiped out, later to return in another session.

Then yoga; the one other male was up to his wheezing, grunting and the rest of it for whatever purpose that serves.

At the daytime vineyard job this 19 y.o. kid arrived from Vancouver. He is said to be interested in winemaking, and so he was shipped to this Okanagan vineyard to get some experience. He seems a little afraid of me for no apparent reason; perhaps my "reputation" (as a TI kept in a densified magnetic field and perhaps a visible plasma field too) has preceded me.

And more games with human voice noise from adjacent properties, and the perps making sure they got through my headphones while listening to music. This erupted at the start of the row, so I walked to the other end, and lo, withing t=two minutes, the same noise erupted from the adjacent road.

A call from the FFF mother; pops (the FFF father-quisling) might not make it because he has had a turn for the worse in the nursing home facility where he lives.

And so, for the entire evening the perps filled me with plans to pay off my above debt with the possible inheritance. Well, he isn't dead yet, so why these macabre ideations?

And the next day, awaiting the news via a phone call, why someone else phoned who need not have, as he wanted above vineyard helper's phone number which I didn't posess. All to heighten the drama over a potentially bad news phone call.

This new vineyard worker in training; did he really have to wear fricking red baggy shorts to his knees, a purple shirt and big deck shoes, all like some misguided clown? I learned in Thanks for the Memories by Brice Taylor, that her keepers liked to use clowns on young children. And so it might be that clowns are another abreaction from the memory deleted years of 1956 to 1959. But the perps have it right; I loathe the sight of clowns, and all that Ronald McDonald schtick that goes with it. Perhaps it might be the reason I loathe red hair so much, another abreactive Unfavored trait they play up.

Working at a second vineyard in the evenings, on across Skaha Lake, and near where the propane cannon goes off all day long. Who needs gunshot sounds over the whole day, and why isn't there a riot in Kaleden where this is over such an invasive and noisy sound?

Raining all day, until I drove to the other side of Skaha Lake and worked two more hours on de-suckering their vineyard.

The vineyard helper wore gumboots, the same ridiculous (and soaking wet) red shorts, a yellow shirt, and a thin rain coat over top. Possibly the rain coat to hide the infernal red+yellow color combination, as we know who likes to arrange this one in the form of vehicle combinations, gangstalker attire (one in red, and one in yellow, and lo, if they "happen" to know each other and coalesce into one visible unit), etc. And if I do not like red, and vile yellows, and absolutely loathe the two colors together, why is it that some psychopathically insane agency hounds me for over 12 years in two countries and presents this fugly color combination to me in varying forms, various distances, spatial alignments and directions? The Pyschopathic Confederacy tells me that it simulates the colors of ketchup (cannot stand the sight of it) and mustard (ditto), which were prominently displayed in some military run child abuse camp. Possibly the Indian Lake Project, as the timing was right, seeming in the late 1950's, coinciding with my recall deleted years, 1956-59.

I drove in my raingear and knee pads, (gumboots on too), a first for such driving attire, but it worked out OK and I was ready to start this extra job in no time.

At least 20 rage-fications when I got back; pulling items from my grasp, standing dumbstruck when there was something obvious to do, etc. A new mind-fuck stunt that is gaining more prominence of late is to have something in mind to do, and then switched to a new task altogether, and while in the middle of this second task, why, the original intent "comes to mind". Then they often extend this some more, screwing me out of attending to the first task yet again. Fun stuff, not trusting one's self. Never have I had such a problem of staying on task until the last six months or so.

A full Saturday of getting chores done, like visiting Walmart, getting laundry done, and then setting off to do this side job of de-suckering the vines. This task has been left too late, as the suckers are getting woody and shooting up into the canopy of shoots intended for this year's harvest. Which means I must follow these sucker shoots and cut them out piece by piece, as pulling on them will pull these shoots out too.

So far, pops seems to be doing OK, based on the absence of bad news. Which means to me, the entire stunt was fabricated to project the possibility in mind and the follow-on ridiculous financial planning.

And I see that I am already $700 overdrawn at the bank; back to these days again. They kept me in the hole for              much of 2007-2008, and it took me forvever to get out of it, as the only extra income (over the disability payments) was from farm work. The perps just love to inflict financial duress, and all the better if one is indebted.

The Father's Day ridiculousness; though to be fair, my 24 y.o. daughter sent me a card and a bar of chocolate, the first time EVER since the Day of Infamy 04-2002 she has acknowledged this day. And believe me, there is no bad blood or bad anything in the relationship, save this orchestrated nightmare to which she abides, though the ex does most of the talking for her.

And I see my web search at Newegg is getting compromised all the more. It was that there was a one-time nag window asking me if I wanted to go to, and the answer is "NO" because the Canadian child sites are usually with less selection. But now, the nag window comes up every time I change the web page, and to add insult to injury, they show the search result in the greyed down background, and when I answer "NO", they remove the search results and send me to a generic introduction page. Just the kind of thing the perps love, incrementally reduced functionality, especially this greyed down background nonsense/method that seems to be au courant.

At least 30 screamings at the perps tonight, coming off the second lost wallet jerkaround in two weeks. Somehow, my back pocket wasn't zippered, and usually is, and lo, no wallet. This "discovered" when the vineyard owner was paying me when I was at the vehicle after an 8 hour stint of de-suckering the vines. I get back to my place to look, as I had a distracting phone call this morning before I was about to depart, adroitly timed when my L boot was tied up, and my R boot was on, but without the laces tightened and tied. I often get fucked with when I am tying up my boots and shoes, but this little stunt takes the cake.

Back to the second lost wallet inside two weeks; my back pocket of my work pants ALWAYS zippered to keep my wallet secure, but "for some reason", wasn't there when I reached for it. I was, and still am totally livid over this second wallet theft/teleportation, and again, I would of totally destroyed this place and my vehicle if they hadn't dociled me. What billion dollar/year operation needs to jerk victims senseless without declaring themselves for over 12 years? All this is predicated on the fact that whatever they are after has to be done without being positively known to their victims. I just don't get it, and am fucking sick and fed up of this insane train of relentless abuse, wallets and otherwise.

From the perp's perspective, they get me to return to this vineyard I have worked 4 evenings at, and a Saturday and Sunday. Not only that, but at 0600h, my usual regular morning time departure for the regular full time vineyard. And too, they have held me up from transferring some money to my daughter, which I was going to do online with the aid of my debit card.

Onto posting this one, hoping that Monday is calmer than the last.

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