Monday, May 25, 2015

Dumbed Down

Finally, I got my story as a permanent page on this here Blogspot; 27pp, and to be read at your leisure. And it hasn't been updated since 09-2003, and I am a whole lot wiser as to this entire caper now, and as a result, a very much having an acquired conspiratorial perspective that isn't fully divulged in the blog postings.This story was on other TI web sites in the long past (to 2003), but it seems a number of them have been taken down since first written. But now that Blogspot will accept more static Pages (as they call them for some obscure(ing?)) reason, this as-written-then count stands as the definitive account of the onset of the high harassment/perp berserk/overt debut of this continuing and relentless life trashing, aka the life of a nonconsensual human experimentation subject in vivo.

It is flat text document and I shall update it with a linkable Table of Contents sometime, and the next version if I can ever be allowed to get a handle on creating a TOC linked document.

I felt like I got clobbered in the head today; slow (aka "thick") thinking, not on the ball, and plain dumbed down. Even things that I am readily familiar with seemed to be new perceptions.

At the vineyard, I needed to mix some oil into the gasoline for two cycle motors at 50:1 and I could not figure it out. The table on the back of the oil bottle didn't include a 5L amount, so I had to calculate it myself. Only when I returned to the shed did I have a clue as to how to calculate it. Never have I been so dumbed down as this before, not forgetting that I mixed portions frequently in the course of my winemaking duties, 2012 to 2014. And surely I have mentioned that the perps are obsessed over measurements, calculations and determinations in this blog before? Many times, and it would seem to be another level of interest on top of total and complete remotely invoked mind control. Other levels of their interest would be whenever I make a decisions, the anisotropic qualities of ... vitamin D, .. sun tanning etc.

Later, in the evening (this added in the next day), I got nailed with a 2.5 hour nap attack, effectively decimating my evening. It took me a half hour to get up, all to brush my teeth, disrobe, wash my face and go back to bed for a night's sleep. As usual, there was no sleep deficit I had any need to make up for.

Wednesday, yoga with the beer gutted guy instructor and bald head. But he is growing a beard, all in the name of decoding my abreactions to male features I reckon.

Rare that I have dinner before yoga at 1715h, but I did today as I am starting vineyard work at 0700h and finish at 1500h. That extra hour to do errands makes a big difference, and too, more likelihood to have an earlier dinner. The yoga crowd was 6 females, and they put the most decrepit one next to me, her and her very heavy breathing.

Mostly on shoot thinning today at the vineyard, though some wine case lifting and relocating with the boss lady as well. She seems to suffer in the heat, and it was at least 25C today, and little or no cloud. As regular readers will know, my ability to tolerate hot weather has gone up markedly since 2010 when the perps adjusted my thermal tolerance from about 25C, (77F) when I would normally wilt, to over 40C (104F). Last year I did a two hour hike at the latter temperature and it was no problem. It is one of their few intrusions that I benefit from, and would sorely miss this new-found thermal tolerance capability.

A new tasting room worker started today, she curiously doing two back and forths across the vineyard on the driveway in her red BMW. I met her yesterday, and her hair was in long tresses. Today, she had her hair frizzed up; not only did it get cut, but frizzed too. And why do the perps arrange this, as it has happened more than once before. All to fool me momentarily it would seem. The perps like to arrange momentary lack of cognition, and I assume, are getting better at it all the time.

And they pulled this at yoga too, the substitute desk person had her hair in a bun just like the regular woman at the desk.

An astounding act of fuckery today at the specialty grocery store, extra crowded because of a 20% off sale. Not only was the wait longer, but the customer/gangstalker ahead of me did the linger-at-the-checkout stunt, but eventually moved on, or so I thought. My items were rung through the till, and I was in the middle of paying on the debit card machine, and lo, if there isn't someone banging at my crotch region, which caused me to jump and look for the cause. The elderly woman, one of the elder-couple ahead of me stayed back and decided she needed the newest copy of the free health care magazine called Alive. Said magazine was in a small 2" thick vertical rack at the checkoput, below the debit card machine. Not only did this colossal dipshit walk by this very rack and "forgot", but then some "remembered" when it was not in sight as I was covering it while at the debit card machine, but had the incredible temerity to attempt to reach around me without so much as an "excuse me", and fumble for it at my crotch region. I was totally incensed, but also governed to tone it down, and say something like "what are you doing?, I am in the middle of transacting at the debit card machine for crissakes!" Of course I wasn't allowed to publicly accuse/exploit the notion that she was grabbing at my crotch, which would of been a zinger to put this person in their place. I cannot believe the number of times this basic plain manners gets ignored and some asshole is attempting yet another personal space incursion. And note, it was adroitly timed while I was keying in my password on the debit card machine. And have I long complained about outrageous, as well as the new "normal" of extra gangstalking attention when making financial transactions? This is just the latest in rude and senseless public abuses.                              

That stunt was preceded by another stool test result I collected and turned in. Not only was there super crowded roads, this at 1530 to 1630h, and stops at the above mentioned grocery store, drop-in clinic, and then LD to get the Rx submitted. The whole town goes nuts because I turned in a stool sample, upping the ante with above mentioned public crotch grabbing.

The drop-in doctor is normally putting on a shitless look each time I see her, but today she was smiling and trying to be sociable. Instead, it was the intern kid at the RX counter at LD who looked scared shitless, though she tried to lighten up at the end.

Saturday, got up early to get to the laundromat and then the public farmers market before the crowds came on. I got two bags of salad and one of basil, and was out of there in five minutes or less. It was Fat Girl gangstalk time; there were at least four of them covering me from my car, 100m to the market, and then back again. Plus at least three more along the driving route back to the laundromat.

Normally the perps keep me off salads for month at a time, no matter the season, but they seem to be allowing this kind of food more often.

Same with eggs; on my 6th dozen this year, when at most, they kept me to 6 eggs for the past 13 years. Call 2015 the "Year that Eggs Were Permitted".

And more Fat Ladies; at the market, on the way home, and lo, when I go downtown again for my legs waxing appointment, it was Fat Ladies With Tattoos. One at the salon had dense tattoos all over her arms. And the ones that I know who kept them covered, why, they rolled up their sleeves today and revealed them. I go next door afterward to get some L-tyrosine, and lo, if the shop assistant isn't waving her tattooed arms around to demonstrate directions to me.

For my waxing, like the past two times, I had the young blonde girl on my L, and the very large instructor on my R. I suppose in talking to the latter about wine and other things, I got more Fat Girl exposure, hence their increased gangstalking numbers on the way home. If I don't like the sight of Fat People, large sprawling guts and all other names for a voluminous convex midriff, I don't understand why legions of Psychopathic Confederates need to present this very visage at every corner, or turn in the road.

The attractive blonde leg wax assistant had the 2" of the tips of her blonde hair done in a fuchsia color. It is a new product they sell, where they can temporarily dye the hair and have it come out in the next hair washing. As the perps routinely like me to see blonde girls, and intersperse freakish and unnatural hair colors, having both on one person is a coup of some kind.

The two waxers stayed on their respective sides, as I flip over once the back of my legs are done, one gets the front of the back of the opposite side. To date, they haven't swapped sides when I flip so one of them gets front and back of the same leg. I am sure this is planned for some future date. It reminds me of the cooked chicken I often purchase, and how the perps like to get the R and L sides mixed up, so I don't know which side the leg is from.

 I am sure there must be something to all of this, and I don't know what the perps get out of hair plucking, but they have me doing plenty of it of late. The perps tell me is about some kind of energy vibration, like what the do on crop circles where they cause the crop, usually a grass, to grow at an oblique angle before they press it down in its tytpical patterns, usually a cricle.

Then onto suntanning outside my place on the lawn for a few hours. Still clothed of course, but less than that where I work which has made shirt wearing mandatory.

A concert last night at the Dream Cafe; shows always start on time at 1900h. But not this time, as the band was doing their sound check at 1830h when I arrived. There might of been some 10 other people in the place. Normally when I come for  concerts at this time the place is nearly packed and I am glad for my reservation to get a decent location.

But the show started an hour late at 2000h, and it was most curious that the customers trickled in until then when the venue was nearly full. Like WTF; how did the majority, say, 80% of the audience (about 100 people) somehow know that the show was starting an hour late?

Onto some pictures:

What they do to my bottled water; these bubbles arrive within an hour or so, and they keep it going until it is drunk up. Did I ever mention the perps are utterly obsessed with sources of all my water? Hundreds of times by now.

New, first time washed UA shorts, the ones made shorter by visit to the alterations shop earlier this week (read on). But the assholes decided that they couldn't tolerate a nice pair of smooth spandex shorts, so they roughed up the patch seen in the circle in the second picture below. Not only were the shorts in immaculate (new) condition, but they were washed with the towels and cotton fabrics, and "somehow" got roughened, a telltale perp trick that has been going on for decades. Before they went berserk/overt in 04-2002, I would get these rough patches on sweaters below my chin, as if my beard was the cause, which it wasn't as there was very little contact. I could never figure it out until these rough patches showed up on my clothes after 04-2002, and without the cover story of putative cause. And yes, I am fucking pissed they messed with my new clothes.

And a final insult/assault detailed; the continuing battle of the perps and the length of my spandex shorts. I want  mid-thigh length shorts; not an inch longer or shorter. And as it "happens", the latest pair of shorts were to my knees, and I took them to the alterations lady. BUT as it happened, har, har, there was a horizontal seam exactly where I wanted the new hem height, and therefore the new hem had to be above or below. I chose above, and lo, if the shorts with a whole 3" of leg length don't roll up and look like swim trunks, just like my current two pairs. Two years before that I had a pair that wanted altered and the seamstress botched the job and rendered them unwearable. This insane fucking bullshit about not joining the male sloppy shorts crowd continues, and pisses me off all the more that they fucked me around again.

Anyhow, onto posting this for another week.

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