Monday, March 02, 2015

T4 Obstruction


For those not in Canada, a year end T4 slip may not mean much, but it is the equivalent to a W-2 for the IRS. It is an employer's statement of all earnings and deductions for the prior calendar year. One needs them to file an income tax return, even in this electronic age. Some of mine are paper, some are electronic. I was expecting a T4 from the Disability outfit as I paid nearly $16k back for income overpayment last year, which cleaned me out totally. (Am -$500 presently). That is to say, it would of reduced my taxable income by $16k, and therefore provide me a tax refund for that amount.

I read on the Disability outfit's website that overpayment statement get mailed (for some curious reason), and that the income T4 is available in electronic form. So why not a single net T4 slip then? Nope, too complicated I suppose, or else it didn't fit the TI victim harassment agenda. So, I look on my "account" as the Canadian federal government's Service Canada and see that they are retaining my address of 2012. Every time I try to update it, the page flips and says I cannot do it. So in dealing with the Disability outfit last year, I had them update it. Or so I thought. But no, they had my old address. I phone up the old address (a motel) and ask if any mail is there, and they reply in the affirmative. I get the mail after work and take it home, only to find a letter from Service Canada asking for the $16k which I already paid in person at the local (Penticton) Service Canada office, July 07, 2014 with a receipt too.

Here I thought I was going to get my tax return done this week and get a refund, but instead, I have to deal with these dullards who seem to be unaware that $16K was paid, and then convince them to hustle their bureaucratic ass to get me my rightful T4 slip before the tax return deadline of April 30. And it was a Monday in May 2014 when I found out that I owed $16k; another fine coincidence.

It is a Monday, the perps' special day when things go wrong, and I get to find this Fuckup presents a serious impasse to getting  myself out of the financial hole that the perps so like to keep me in. Then onto yoga, with the darling pixie instructor.

But yoga wasn't quite the same; first the perps seemed to have created a shit smell coming off me, one that erupted within a minute of exiting the shower. Then the dudes (male class members) were put on in relative force; the Major Fat Boy arrived on my R side for the very first time, he doing his wheezing and gasping thing in his loathsome shorts below his knee. Another semi-regular dude was on my L side for the very first time, as normally his is at least 4 mats away at the back of the practice room. Then two additional new dudes arrived in the usual "dude rows" at the back, one fuzzy haired freak in shorts. So it would seem that the perps are embarking on some kind of new dude-dude interaction; the semi-regular dudes on either side of me is new, and two new ones in the section where they put the semi-regulars for the last two years. Major Fat Boy excepted, as he started about three months ago on my L side doing his wheezing - gasping act. I had every intention to leave if the Major Fat Boy came close enough to hear his heavy breathing act, and "somehow" I failed to act on it. Funny how that "happens".

And most of the some 12 or so women were regulars, though some new-to-me ones.

And lo, if at yoga we weren't doing many different kinds of binds, where we reach  past our ass and ... you get the picture. Thankfully, most of the shit sensations were planted, not of real origin, but I didn't know that then, only when I got back and had yet another shower to clean up. And I resolve to not go to yoga any more for all the insane hi-jinx that go on, and instead go to the gym. All that resolve will be mind-fucked from me, as they have yet again, stopped my gym visits when I was getting into  3x per week routine that I even saw some weight loss benefits showing up, as well as feeling better. So much for that. Even if I made it to the gym, the perps can make one feel winded and weak and not get much exercising done. Been there, had it done to me countless times.

Pruning vines all day with the background vehicular traffic noise at almost an unbearable din level; the dudes in pickups with noisy gurgling hot-rod like mufflers were out in force, and with time on their hands. Driving N bound, and then coming back S bound within 5 minutes spells extra obvious vehicular gangstalking to me, not to mention them stomping on the accelerator in both directions to bring on yet more noise.

I ended up dealing with the bureaucracy over T4's again, though was pleasant experience, no resolution, "cannot find the records".... etc. I was able so supply all the details of payment date, receipt number, etc. so hopefully that can be resolved. (Or just plain ended, as who knows how this skit was arranged).

The last time I had a call with the same bureaucracy, the woman got quite agitated for no seeming reason. The perps just love this; stirring up people for no seeming reason.

The landlord was in my place today, no prior notice; at least the second time he has done this. but at least he didn't leave a plaster mess like last time. He got to see my "Jawhorse" set up in the kitchen area with the Dremel rotary tool nearby.  I use the latter for pruner blade sharpening and for the very first time ever, I set this up in the morning and lo, if I didn't get pressed for time and leave it set up. Funny how those "coincidences" just line up all the time.

Doing battonage work in the winery this morning; that is the fancy work for stirring the sediment in the barrels. It gets done once per week and imparts a creamy and buttery sensation to the wine, whites only usually. When 12' high on a ladder, the perps have every opportunity so screw one senseless, and up the anxiety level (= Fear, of FUD, Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt).

The when out pruning, vehicular traffic noise on Naramata Road was amplified up, along with extra traffic it would seem. Having three excavators digging in the neighborhood is doubtless part of the perp experiment abuse show, though to me it is just more additional noise. Have I mentioned the perps go crazy over displaying soils, their colors and go as far as arranging dirt splattered vehicles around me all the time?  And it is high dirt season, wintertime in snowy climes, and ski hills around too.

The entire winery crew is away tomorrow and next day, and as I don't have keys to the winery, I must take the Electrocoupe home with me. A 30"x18" plastic red box with white foam in it for the tools and charger, and the red vest with the battery pack, as well as the electric pruner.  I  took Electrocoupe home which begat extra fore and aft vehicular gangstalking

And no small matter, the Electrocoupe has a 2.4kg battery pack that fits around my waist for all of the pruning activity. And we know who likes to plant batteries (an unresolved dipole) around their selected victims. That it is in a red vest is also significant, as the perps never let me wear red. Only gangstalkers can wear red, in their ever frequent choreography of entrances and exits.

Speaking of red, the color is becoming more frequent. For example, the perps making my face go red after work; a little early in the year for sun effects, and too, it gets worse when I am indoors. They put this on two days ago for yoga after work, and seemingly they need some red-red testing between me and the Electrocoupe case and vest.

Plenty of screaming at the assholes tonight; they ran a sharp knife into my hand, they blocked the toilet for the first time in over six months,(extremely rare to have two shits in one day, more like one every four to six days), they dropped items from my hand, dumped salt I was applying to my dinner plate onto the stove top... and on and on.

On vineyard pruning all day; all of the staff (5) are away today and tomorrow for the big wine show of the year, the Vancouver Wine Festival, a money spinner for the Vancouver Art Gallery. So... I am locked out of the winery, the warm location where I usually have my lunch, as they haven't cut me a new key set yet. Not a big deal, as I have sat in my vehicle for lunch time on other vineyard gigs. Though, the pattern of all owners/employees fleeing the site while I work there alone isn't new, as this same routine "happened" often with the owners of the past vineyard I worked at.

The Naramata Road (adjacent to the vineyard) traffic noise is louder it seems today, and it wasn't just the four included motorcycles today, arriving two weeks earlier than last year. And the peps know how much I loathe the infernal HD noise. So... what do they do? Why have the same motorcycle/rider pass by N bound, then S bound four minutes later, and then return N bound to take a nearby orthogonal turn off road W bound and then return two minutes later E bound to then turn S bound for the second time. I cannot conceive of a reason why a motorcycle driver and passenger would be so pointless and frenetic on a chilly day in late Feburary, except given an incentive to make the freaking HD noise in the noisescape of this TI victim, all arranged in advance. I still have no idea as to why the perps are berserk over motorcycle noise and the whole leathers dress schtick that goes with it.

As usual, plenty of perp orchestrated hassles; having the pruners cut the trellis wire (twice), and have the pruners contact the trellis wire to hack up the just-sharpened blade (at least 8x). Sometimes they will even have me look at my fingers in their control and contact or break the trellis wire while looking at it happen, ensuring that I am totally clued out, when it would be last most notion I would have if I was in full and sole command of my faculties. Other times, I don't even see how the trellis wire was contacted/broken as I don't even see the wire and only become aware after making the pruning cut from the different noise a wire contact/break makes.

Finshed cleaning up to toilet this evening; the shot of bleach and some wait time seems to work, though it did threaten to overflow though a small bucketful scooped off the top and transferred to the shower drain avoided that potentially messy outcome. And too, for the prior 24 hours, the wait time, the perps had me pissing directly into the shower, something of interest to them as part of this exercise.

This would be the first blocked toilet in 6 months or so, and regular readers will know it occurred 95% of the time from 2002 when they first struck overtly to end of 2011. In a shared house in 2012 they restarted their shit games, and once out of there, it was diminshed. I reckon toilet blocking games are going to "happen" at my new worksite, just as they did at the last one. And too, walking over the septic field, unknowingly usually, is always a perp interest.

Other aspects of the "browning around" are the band-aid on my L thumb they cut with a knife, per above. And too, the color of the band-aid changes according to the ambient lighting conditions; it goes a curious straw color in daylight, and darker brown in incandescent light. I suspect the assholes cannot yet duplicate my native brown color detection/reception, as in retinal sensitivity, and are messing with my ability to receive this color. Reds and yellows may also be giving the perps similar problems given the heavy emphasis of these colors, often in combination.

A call from the Disability people about my overpayment yesterday; it was the weirdest thing, an apparently speech disabled person was using an intermediary, a telephone "operator", to translate the seeming keyboard output into speech. I suspect they could hear what I was saying, but the operator did the "translation" from text to speech for me to hear. And, as always, nothing is a coincidence, nor even happen-chance in this highly controlled and manipulated existence I live in. Sooo... I suspect that the perps wanted to separate the voice/response from the originator (the speech disabled person from the Disability department), from the operator who translated it. The fact that my voice will change over the duration of a half hour phone call isn't new, and it would be the perps attempting some kind of continuity fuckery of a similar vein.

And was this the ultimate purpose of the Disability repayment fuckover stunt? Regular readers of 2014 will know I had to pay back $16k of benefits, and my daughter some $1800 (paid by me), back in May 2014. I paid it back in July 07, and got a reciept for it, and they finally cashed the check some three weeks later. Then, as mentioned above, I expect to get a T4, but instead, I find that they are still asking me for the money. Finally, (I hope), this fuck up is over, and they also sort out my daughter's too (like I asked) them today over the phone. It is insane to be put through financial penury and to then get my financial transactions sabotaged for 8 months. What is the matter with the perps that they must sabotage everything I do, especially finances?

The last day of February, work days that is. Spent pruning vines in the vineyard. It got cold in the morning so I drove back into town, a 10 min. commute for a hot lunch and to get long underwear on and my ski jacket that has a snow skirt on the inside to stop drafts from blowing my my spine, as with the shorter jacket. And getting a long enough jacket to cover my ass and not ride up when bending over is a HUGE deal, as the perps so like to exploit these opportunities to run cool air inside my garments. I also got my Baffin Minus 100 boots on, good for 100C below zero. The perps like to chill selective portions of me down go guide my clothing choices and changes.

Another "per usual" day of pruning vines; the punishing roadside traffic noise, the constant background hum of 1km distant excavators (3) plus skid-steer loaders, and sheep, dogs and other animals adding their bit. Then the pruning itself; the assholes still won't let me take the electric shears/pruners to the vine and cut it; no... sir, not allowed. Instead they guide the pruners to be above or below or where I want to cut, or else guide them so the lower jaw, and not the shear to the cutting position. All to force me to relocate the pruner to the very location I wish to cut. That is if they don't jiggle the pruner while in mid-cut and have it not cut where I wished. Which is the epitome of this insane abuse-athon I am cast into. Read on.

Back in 2002, among other affronts, they run me out of an IT job, to no permitted job, but instead this "disability". Only in 2008 did they allow me to do farm work to get me out of the spending hole they also imposed. Things move along like this until 2012 when they let me move to the Okanagan Valley and attend three months of viticulture (grape vine tending) class. So I manage to get some jobs for longer term employment, and includes wielding hand pruners in this over-vigorous vineyard for 2.5 years. Now we are closing in on three years of viticulture work, and the assholes won't let me place a pair of pruning shear where I want, but instead mess with me at every cut and have me "miss" where to place them.  Think of that; coming on 13 years of this insane abuse, now rendered down to vineyard worker, and they won't let me place a pair of pruners, tools of the trade, where I want. I make perhaps high hundreds or maybe 1 to 2K cuts in a day, and they see it as their job to mess me around on every one, all day long on these and similar tasks. Talk about insanity gone amok gone, anal retentive; the perps have this in spades and yet continue to inflict me with this aberrant and sick mindset for 13 years nearly, and counting.

And it doesn't end there for pruning obstruction either; they had me cut two trellis wires today and ran the electric pruners into the trellis wires at least 10x today, creating yet another sharpening job, now every night of the week. Just a typical day of pruning where my finger movements aren't my own.

A dude clusterfuck at the laundromat, including Camaro Man who followed my pattern of late morning-early afternoon visits to early morning (about 0930h). Camaro Man steps up right behind me when I exited the washroom. Which meant that he was in the adjacent washroom and "happened" to exit the same time as me, and follows me on my heels just about. He had his head down pretending he didn't notice; normal (pre-overt harassment) would stop and say "excuse me", but as there has been a universal near abandonment of manners in my proximity it doesn't happen. I turn around to face the asshole, and he takes a L turn, still with head down and pretending not to notice I was pissed (metaphorically). The other dipshit in red stood still to constrict egress, and the laundromat manager was in on it too.

Then another clusterfuck at Wrs, a discount chain where I went to get nail laquer to seal the felt pen wring on the side of my diamond honing stones. I had to ask for help as I don't know nail polish from skin polish, and a tall-as-me young woman in brown-red dyed hair "helped", as in messed around with three identical little boxes, and made out she was looking for something else when nothing more was there.

Then the perps had me purchase a small frypan, which was what was going to put back but then a rush of gangstalkers came on and I scooted to the front till with both items, with a duffer-dude on parallel faux shopping to obstruct my path (artfully waddling in parallel) and then a tattoo-ed big girl had her buggy with child in it also obstructed my path to the available checkout. The cashier was at least friendly and made a comment about the frypan, and finished with a forced grin that became a grimmace. Don't worry about acting dear, I see these strange looks of imminent peril/scaredness all the time.

Before I set off from the parking lot into Wrs I get this dude in a lime green T-shirt some 20' away heading to his vehicle. The assumption was that he had finished shopping and was going to depart. Not a bit of if, he drops something off in his vehicle and then lead-ahead stalks me into Wrs. Talk about obvious stalking, the assholes were going a little silly today.

Skipping Sunday, but am getting this posted ASAP.

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