Sunday, March 15, 2015

Music Media Studies

Continuing vineyard work -the perps like to pull the trellis wires from my hands as I am about to make a cut. It seems that the moment of plant injury, (or animal injury) is a vital event in their nonconsensual research agenda. And too, it would seem that not enough people have died in wars and insurrections, or even accidents all this time. That is, if you subscribe to the conspiracy agenda, aka alien agenda, and that all major world events have been managed ahead of time to exact the "researchable moments" the perps so desparately cultivate, with me and by extension, everyone on this planet.

Yoga this evening, a Monday. A girl with  fugly green pastel shorts, came in beside me at the last possible moment a the class had just started. She ended up between me and the Major Fat Boy, replete with his wheezing and gasping, not to mention pathetic postures. The fugly green pastel color was the same as the instructor's (the Darling Pixie) top. No doubt some kind of local color testing, between her and the instructor, and who knows where they all were in advance or after the class. Said girl of the fugly pastel green shorts also had a tattoo on wrist, not unlike Her Blondeness who hasn't been there for at least four months. And too, the girl had a 3" diameter bruise on her inner thing facing me, no doubt some kind of tattoo simulation exercise, or do repairing skin cells emit a different energy?

I relieved a CD from amazon today,putting it down on the table before I set off for yoga; the perps like to script parcel arrivals for Mondays before yoga. I   listened to the CD, then ripped it to flac lossless files, and listened again from files on the PC (rotating magnetic media). Going by recent past experience, it will be listened to from a USB stick. What the perps get from analyzing me listening to the same music on different media sources is beyond me. These kinds of comparisons have been going on for years, but have become a lot more obvious of late

post work, on the vineyard; some horizontal ones weren`t secured except by cut notches, and as the posts separated some, the horizontals dropped to the ground. The spiral spikes bent when I tried to drive them through the posts to the end of the horizontals, and the drill wouldn`t drill for some curious reason, it just stalled out. I have never seen this happen in all my 40 years of using power drills, a drill bit not drilling. It was turning the correct way, and it was a quarter inch ships`auger drill (not a large bit for wood), and the drill kept going around but wouldn`t bite in. I leaned on the drill to attempt to force it to start, but it would not. I don`t recall how many trips into the vineyard and to the tool depot I made to get these problems fixed, but needless to say, it was at least four back-and-forths. And we know who likes to script these kinds of events, whether it is me alone or clustering gangstalkers.

I spent most of the afternoon cleaning the driveway with gasoline powered blower; and got plenty of dust back in my face as the perps so love for me to take soil into my lungs and nasal passages.

I went to the drugstore to purchase a testosterone test kit to kick start this latest self-help initiative to alleviate the urinary urgency problem I got stiffed with starting in mid-2014. This after three weeks of stalling out and not getting onto it for no apparent reason. Such initiative doesn`t go unpunished; the twit at the pharmacy counter said the regular guy who handles the test kits won`t be in until Mar. 16, conveniently scripted for a stop prior to yoga. Said twit had retrieved the test kit from the shelves and had it in hand, and also manipulating it, while explaining his story (above), not that I believed a word of it at the time. And what was the purpose of that. To get more dude interface time, he of the fugly clashing plaid shirt. (No punctuation marks as Blogger has gone on the fritz).

I was to do work at the quiet vineyard, but there was to be two shipments to be made up. Then as it happened the contents of one order got shifted to the other order, and with a whole lot more pallet moving. I worked on the second order once I had clarified the stocking situation, but before I finished, why, a company photo-shoot was planned just were I was working. The photographer had arrived, and "happened" to be shooting pics across the very place where I had been working with brown cardboard boxes, pallets etc. By then I had moved 8' away to the side to finish my repacking work. and lots (50+) of flashes of light somehow made it to my eyes, even if I well out of range of the camera. The perps will exploit anything to apply more bursts of bright light to my eyes.

Afterward, I did fire tending as there was more cut brush to be burned, before the burning permit expired. I got the fire started with some petroleum products, and all was going OK, and on the adjacent public trail, why, a wheelchair act comes along N bound. Then three minutes later returns S bound, and then decides to stop in line with my vision, what I call posing, for a few minutes. I move elsewhere so I don`t get to view this sight, and I suppose the wheelchair moved on then. Like WTF; I absolutely loathe the sight of wheelchairs, and just when I think I am in a location where I wouldn`t get this odious gangstalking visage, the perps pull it off with extra obvious presentations.

The pit-lamping (lights, usually headlights) had been extra heavy too, with parked vehicles just sitting there to pin me in their beams as I back-up, turn around, exit my vehicle etc. Another trick is to have oncoming vehicles`headlights aimed at me by virtue of the road curvatures, and if the road isn`t curved enough, have the Fuckwit straddle the centerline to get a better headlight beam at me and to also get my attention as to a potential head-on. Not that I have any more concerns about a head-on collision after last summer`s stunt where this oncoming vehicle was in my lane and came straight at me and managed to tuck in at the last possible second. I still don`t how we didn`t collide it was so close. And furthrermore, just to drive the point home, there was a large unoccupied pull-out I could of utilized on my R, and somehow I forgot to even look. And too, the perps must of switched off my emotional registry as I was totally unmoved by this near death experience; in fact, I didn`t sense danger or extreme danger in the least, nor was I relieved to any extent.

I pruned in remote vineyard by myself, no stalkers or pit-lampers. I had the phone play me music through my headphones all afternoon. It wasreasonably pleasant save for escalated and imposed realtime finger fumbling and the new (to me) variety of burrs that stuck to my shirt and gloved hands.

Again, I pruned at the N vineyard -plenty of quiet there, playing music until the headphones broke spontaneously, the third time in 2 years for this pair, never dropped, crushed or otherwise mistreated. They were sent back for warranty repair back in 2012, so one side has a different history/provenance, never mind a return mail trip to the Ontario based warranty repair.

And what is it about headphones, magnets at the ears in service of transducing electrical signals to sound, that the perps must continually sabotage them. In 2002 when this all began, my Grados needed new gimbal mounts because the perps rotated the steel shaft in the plastic mount (while wearing them at work), thereby causing the drivers to fall off their mounts. Another pair got destroyed by way of accelerated parts wear. A pair of inexpensive Sony's didn't get sabotaged in the typical sense, but the perps messed with my Windows settings so I must wear them for online activities and my twice repaired Grados for audio via the Oppo deck. I had it set up so all music on the PC would play through the Grados, but that was too convenient so they messed with the headphone settings and pulled the pick window option from displaying in the dialog box. (It is very common for this to "happen" and then get "found" in one session even).

A pair of new Bose noise cancelling headphones got tossed down the garbage chute in 2006. I cannot recall the precise "reasons" (read inserted rationalizations planted in mind in real time), but I had to do it, there was no other choice.

While working the vineyard, the perps caused me to swear a number of times with the headphones on, having done the same thing earlier without them on. The end of the row tricks, cutting the wrong stem, and even nipping my finger at one point which was painful, but near miraculously, no blood was drawn. A first in 13 years of this abuse; the infliction of a cutting blade (or injuring edge) and no wound, not even a bruise later.

 Yesterday was laundry day (Saturday), and the freaks are finding me there more often. Not only that, they have a new found habit of using the same washing machines that I prefer, so they get to haul their clothes out just ahead or behind me and then loiter some more to put them in the dryers above. Said Fuckwit was on the PC while there, and when I came back, he was doing the time-honored reprise act of looking at his cell phone while outside. That is, same activity of looking at a LCD display in two different locations at the laundromat.

It seemed to be `Dudes in Brown`` day today. The Fuckwit in peanut butter brown coveralls who tailed me into the store, and then happened to be where I was shopping each time I went to a new aisle, also happened to pull this strange delaying stunt. He was in the line at the only cashier, and one person was ahead of him with hardly any groceries. I passed by thinking that the Peanut Butter Man would be long gone as I had more shopping to do. I was in other aisles for five minutes and I come to the cashier and was the next in line. But no, the Peanut Butter Man swoops in behind me to arrive at his very few items on the conveyor belt. Like WTF; he and the customer ahead of him both should of been long gone. It was like a micro time warp where they must of stopped what they were doing, and had the Peanut Butter Man temporarily remove himself from the line up at the cashier. If I had seen him there, I would not of joined the line at the cashier, but looked around elsewhere. So they pulled him out, all to have him arrive behind me a minute or so later, but in time for his groceries to be rung up while he was there. Can we say amazing choreography.

And I got my hair cut in the afternoon, and a change up in procedure; she washed my hair after my haircut instead of before. Not a big deal, and I also forgot to get my eyebrows trimmed,- another first. After that, I got my legs waxed in keeping with this new habit that started in late 2011. There has been all manner of planted reasons, but all the same, I am compelled to do it. And no less, the perps just love me to admire my own just-waxed legs for some reason when before I could not care less what they looked like. This set of vanity behaviors is also new.

Sunday... and not much of to report. It was raining most of the day, and I was kept inside mostly save for yet more vanity activity, my weekly salon tanning session. Though, it does help to keep me in vitamin D, and to get ready for outside tanning.

And what is with the perps dinging jar lids. This is the third time in four months; the lid remains serviceable but they artfully put these dents in it, see the pics below.

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