Monday, October 26, 2015

Two Orders Too Many

Yoga; another "bob" job planted himself beside me, after the prior 14 students left the spot open for him at the last minute before class started. And lo, if the instructor's mat wasn't pulled W again, to facilitate him in blocking my view of her during class. I moved my mat some 12" away so I could see, and he says something (in faux offense), and I said I wanted to see the instructor. Then during class he seemed to have the unerring knack of copycatting my every move, even when I decided to speed up or slow down. And too, spatially, he lined up with me, being larger, I couldn't find I could be closer or further from the front than he as he lined up all the time. This "habit" has been long noted among other mat mates I have given up on reporting it here.

And why do the perps still need to mess with my online orders? I put two different orders in today, (One Click x2) for one of each of two different CD's from different vendors. And what "happens"? Why the perps mess it up by adding an extra order from a third vendor, and this order has two of the same CD's in it. I get three of one CD from two vendors and one of the other. Making it convenient to send the third one back in its entirety, unopened. And what is the purpose of that except to hit me up with extra mailing and charges, coming and returning. And both were from Amazon resellers, not themselves, as I have always found Amazon to impeccable and always got the orders right. (Same for resellers too, but hey, if we can lay a glitch on someone it would be easier if it wasn't the big guy.) Somehow, some sick ass perp thought it was funny to hit me up with an extra order for some kind of managed "glitch".

A mostly sleepless night, with the perps getting me up to take a dose of magnesium supplement. Yet again, they have changed up the magnesium formulation, from magnesium citrate to magnesium glyscinate. The former was not on my doctor's list of approved magnesium formulations, but I got screwed into purchasing it when there was no other. And lo, if it wasn't made out to be ineffective as the leg cramps came on last night to get me up. And before that, why, the assholes polluted my dreams as to which magnesium supplement I needed! The few remaining Mg-citrate tablets got flung out, and I started the new Mg-glysinate bottle. And no doubt, that was the entire goal; have me swtich magnesium supplements at 0300h or so. How fucking stupid is that? The perp's interest in magnesium supplement formulation knows no bounds; I think this is the fourth one in three months, and the arranged shopping experience is that the one I want to get is the same one as I had, (assuming it was on the doctor's list, and effective), and yet "somehow" it is not in stock when I return for more.

As nearly always, no tiredness from the abbreviated sleep from last night.

And some relief too, as they didn't hit me me up with the pissing urgency problem while at work. For a while it seemed like they were but somehow the sensation lapsed and I was fine until the afternoon coffee break.

I started a new job today, just half shifts this week, and perhaps that is what the perp excitement, per above, is all about. A forest seedling nursery needs personnel to lift (their term, though they also use extract) the tree seedlings from their growing containers, bundle them, box them, and have the empty containers cleaned and stacked on pallets. The boxes too get stacked on pallets and taken out by the forklift. Yours truly is on both these tasks, alternating between inside the greenhouse and outside, a perfect perp set up. And too, lots of other people around, those mainly being the piece rate folks who pull the seedlings, grade, count and bundle them, and load them into boxes. Plus regular staff to do quality checks and count boxes and monitor the rejected seedlings too.

And of all things, one of the just-hired workers who was on this float duty too, even chatted to me and we had much in common with respect to mutual vineyard work, and even where we were from. Most others are in a head down mode, nothing new there. Plenty of freaks and strange hair; male pony tails, male bobs and tattoos too, though no unnatural hair colors, or at least yet. Lots of brown color dressed workers, one with brown overalls, brown shirt and brown ball cap.

Back in late 2011 they had me work this same job in Victoria  when I was there, and it was early January 2012 when I re-located to where I am now to begin my vineyard labor training, and now, vocation. It would seem that the perps wanted a comparative job at my previous location just before moving away, and now three years later, they invoked this same job at this present location.

A half day at the forest seedling packing job, this time on extracting from containers, ensuring they meet the grade/specifications, stacking them in bundles of 15, and then wrapping them, and placing them in the shipping boxes. It is piece rate in part, and the perps made sure I was a klutz at this in many ways. The assholes would hop or snag them so they would fall out of alignment, they mind fucked me into "forgetting" how many I packed in a box (21 bundles, no less, or more), and ensured my productivity was on the low side. The boss man in looking for four boxes filled an hour and I did half that almost. I cannot see that I can pull a 100% improvement, let alone attain the level of the best at 5.5 boxes/hour. So much for the big bucks of $15/hour or more on this gig.

The assholes even sabotaged my quality; I had two sub-standard root collar sized trees found on a regular quality check, plus one tree and soil plug with two trees instead of one. Like WTF; I had no problem estimating root collar diameters the whole time, and yet "somehow" two slipped by.

A visit to the urologist; prostrate; it is healthy, but the number is up. Another visit in six months. I did my spiel on why I was taking testosterone, and the possible cause of the urinary urgency might be neurogenic, as dopamine deprived Parkinson's patients have this same problem. (And a number of other conditions that line up with my conditions over the past two decades). I might as well of talked to a wall. Last Feb. (2015 still), when I indicated that the medication wasn't helping this problem, the message I got via his MA was that the results will vary, and if any continued problems, see my GP. Here I have a urology problem, since addressed (until this last month) due to a supplement I subsequently took , and the urologist is saying go to my GP. Which I don't have as one cannot get one in this town, let alone me in in this contained bubble I am kept in. And did I mention the perps have an abounding interest in dopamine neurochemistry, and likely blocked me getting something done 1997-2000, when three shrinks and a neurologist blew me off about not having ADD when I flat assed told them, and had read the clinical text book on this. Of course there was no dialog even, just changing the topic and plying me with SSRI's and SNRI's which did not work.

A 1030h appointment and still the doctor was backed up for an extra 30 min. wait. The usual waiting room choreography of it being full, and then empties out over the wait time and then when I get out, maybe one or two patients there instead of 10 when I first arrived. It has been the same for the prior three visits.

No helicopters on exiting the urologist's office this time, but a brown gangstalk vehicle was on me first thing just as I was ready to back out.

And heavy on red vehicles these days; having had beetroot soup for the last two days might be the attraction for the perps

Another round of music ordering and "music file finding' convergence; what is the point of purchasing more music. I am fucking broke, and don't wish to purchase anything other than rent, food and gasoline, and I am getting managed to purchase yet more music? Online albums from CD Baby and another source with good prices, more from an artist's site, two CD's purchased used via Amazon (per above). And if that weren't enough, I "find" two albums of an artist that was downloaded but somehow I "missed" unzipping them a few months ago. And another variation was another download that somehow wasn't loading into my player's library until I forced a manual import. All this music convergence from differing sources and provenances and as I always tell the perps, I can only listen to one album at at time, and I have plenty to listen to as it is. So why do I "need" more music (read, am forced to acquire) for some psychopathic perps human experimentation when I cannot fucking afford it?

Or is this week's sudden decline in "needing" chocolate (after 13 years of forced high consumption) going to free up some extra cash? I am not holding my breath after day two of the piece rate tree packing job. Read on.

The boss man wants 4 filled boxes per hour and I didn't quite do 3. The returning regulars are doing 5.5/hour. This managed klutz (me) isn't going to cut it as far as I can tell, though I did three more for the four hour shift than yesterday, my first day. There were less snags and errant finger moves to disrupt my neat stacks for some reason today. At the end of it, one of the regulars on production support duties says for me to "hang in there".

And which fed into the fact that I felt like quitting all of the four hour shift, partially prompted by the guy behind me who worked a whole five minutes and said he was "going home". I assume that was the end of him, but he was the guy who was actually friendly and we had seasonal viticulture jobs in common. The one friendly seasonal worker-bee is now gone.

Which is exactly "happened" at the last forest tree seedling job I had in 2011. One of the seasonal worker bees was a friendly guy about my real age (61 y.o., not what I look like which has to be about 35 y.o), and about two weeks into the job he was telling me about some of the slackers, which I thought was odd, as I didn't see anyone doing that as everyone I could tell was heads down working. Anyhow, he brought this up with the boss man who took exception to his comments on the "regular" seasonal workers who return each year, and he was let go in mid shift.

As it also "happened", this firee was giving a ride to this negro woman as we were on the afternoon shift and there was no bus service at 2330h when we finished. I knew her from a few years earlier from other seasonal farm work I had being doing, so I ended up giving her a ride home every night for four weeks or so. And have I mentioned the perps like to plant negros around me as part of the gangstalk scene? Many hundreds of times by now, some 1700+ postings into this abuse-athon. The plasma beams over top this LCD display where I am typing are getting very obstructing, so I am going to call today's blogging done for now.

10-23-2015, Friday
Finally, the worker elimination method was revealed at the forestry seedling operation; if you aren't up to production snuff, one will get a phone call this weekend to say don't come back for Monday. I haven't been up to snuff, only at 70% of what he was looking for for the last two days. Not to make too fine a point of it, I wasn't on production, but instead, "support" where I handled the containers after cleaning. There are a number of support jobs, bringing the seedlings in from the greenhouses, handling the empty containers, fork lifting finished pallets etc. Soo..... a good chance my expectations for a two month work gig just may evaporate. And that would be a good thing instead of getting beat up by the perps with counterproductive finger fumbling, things snagging with unusual frequency, mind fucking me over what my seedling bundle per box count is, and the rest of the productivity depredations.

I got the phone call I was expecting; "nothing personal", "glad to have met you" etc. As in no forest seedling grading/packing job come Monday. And I am glad for that, not having unattainable productivity goals hanging over my head all the time. So four half days of work this week, all to find out what I already know; I am a managed klutz and my finger control does not belong to me. And what is the point of that from the perp perspective? Just to jerk my ass around and divert my job search intentions for three week? Something like that.

 A hike finally, after last week's blatant obstruction, and the prior grape harvesting and processing paid work. And too, in the new oversized mountaineering boots the perps made me buy, putting a serious hole in my finances, especially when they knew the forest seedling packing job was going to be naught.

The boots worked out reasonably OK, a little heavy going up, but welcome for their stiffness on the way down with the loose rock rubble on the hard pack glacial til trail. The perps even let me get started by 1000h, and hiking by 1045h, and no less, all by myself. Only a mountain goat there was there at the top of McIntyre Bluff, sensing that a human was around, and suddenly on the move while I was eating lunch. A full curl horn male it was, and I didn't relish doing any head butting with it. Thankfully, after it did some observation time from 80' away, and then took off and no drama. A near chilly day, some 11C, and a light wind to make sure I was reminded often enough. It was high overcast, so no sun to warm things up, and the fall colors coming on strong, vineyards included.

But within a minute of starting back down, and two minutes of finishing my lunch salad, why, the hiking gangstalkers were on me. Two parties; one couple strangely split apart with the lead female doing on off-trail stop an a minor prominent rock, and the follow-up male strangely carrying his green toque as he was hiking along. A lone female with a toque (on her head and a loopy smile came next) within a minute. Some 30 minutes later another gangstalking couple came at a trail section where I took a section that hadn't been used for six weeks or slightly longer, as some dip-shit erected a barrier to it from the other direction which the couple duly followed, outbound, just as I had. The trail re-diretion was totally backwards, as this short cut had been blocked for the past three years as part of a trail remediation effort to take the longer but less steep (and erosion prone) section. But as the perps constantly hound me over every step I take and where others follow on top, it isn't too surprising that this trail exclusion stunt wasn't erected, especially when another gangstalk couple "showed up". And all the more when in new boots.

The final act of trail gangstalking was to have a three-some of trail cyclists come by (outbound, while I was inbound) the very first time EVER they have put this element on the trail I have hiked for the past three years. And all the more obvious was that I was wearing new boots, with new rubber soles, and lo, if the cycle tracks weren't mostly on the very R side of the trail I was hiking. As mentioned many times, the whole thing about rubber is a HUGE perps interest. I assume, natural tree rubber, with its soil and provenance energetics (from halfway around the world) rotating on wheels in all their ubiquity, and of course, over the same ground of those (me) who "happen" to be hiking with (new) rubber soled boots. And have I given the "rubber imperative" enough exposition today?

26-10-2015 Monday
No excuse but a blatant mind-fuck blank out in posting this yesterday. I ALWAYS attempt to get this wrapped up for the week and post Sunday night, though at times other time pressures/events (read, arranged ones) somehow intrude. No excuse this time, but pure remotely applied mind dithering.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Heavy Commute Coverage

A Tuesday like a Monday, this being the first day back from the Thanksgiving weekend in these parts N of the 49th Parallel. Though yesterday, I was at the boss' house for Thanksgiving dinner with their daughter and husband and children. No rude-assed hand flicking in my face this time, nor the reaching arm across my plate, inches from my nose.

And this incremental abandonment thing again, which has occurred at other social dinner events, even going back to 2000 when Ms. C and her family invited me to Thanksgiving, this when I lived in Seattle. The seeming arrangement is that one by one, the others leave the dinner table after the meal, leaving me by myself and wondering why this is arranged as often as it is. Just plain weird.

Heavy home-bound commute coverage today. Some 8 motorcyclist stalkers for the 20 minute drive when normally I get none at this time of year. About mid-day, a black military aircraft did a single climbing pass, presumably from Penticton Airport, but what was it doing there anyhow? It was a four engine turboprop and per usual (in the Unsual TI World), there were black wave like emissions coming from it, which I take to be some kind of maser beams that travel larger distances than the fuzzy balls and lines I get inside my residence.

I had helicopter coverage on the way home, and four trains of gangstalking vehicles ahead and oncoming, all this at about 1620h as I left work some 15 minutes late, but hey, they know that too, long before I did. The boss lady come down to chat just as I was finishing up work, and usually she doesn't, I leave on my own about 99% of the time. A four vehicle cluster fuck that was held up by an oncoming vehicle train, as the vehicle in front of me had to make a L turn. Once he made his, a last red vehicle (caboose?) with this awful faded dull red (roof and hood) to deep red paint job (lowest side body panels) came by to hold up my L turn. I suppose the perps were testing me on the paint job (same original color/source etc.) with a large variance in the paint color. No separate paneling of clashing reds of differing paint sources this time.

As the final act, the landlord was hanging outside his house, some 70' away, on his cell phone. The cell phone stalkers are also coming out more of late, on all fronts. I see he had his cube van in place of where he keeps his red pickup truck for some (related) reason.

Then when home, an immediate need for a bowel movement, another perp high interest/harassment event. What all of this means is beyond me.

Just when I thought I had this pissing problem fixed by starting on L-tyrosine and L-phenlyalanine yesterday, the problem came back. As it "happens", it can be a dopamine deficiency problem. All I have to do is look up Parkinson's Disease, and the non-motor problems all seem to line up with having a generalized dopamine deficiency problem (aka lifelong ADD). Or at least, that is how the perps portray my set of "conditions", as they can manage any medical issue to any level they like, and not just for me, but the population at large. Though it does make me wonder if Parkinson's Disease isn't yet another manifestation of their dopamine research agenda, which is unleashed upon me under the cover of having Attention Deficit Disorder. I have the Inattentive sub-type, and this is diagnosed from a SPECT scan I had in 2001, aafter being blown off by three shrinks and a neurologist for crissakes (1995 to 2000). I am sure the perps had a hand in arranging that too.

Come to think of it, at the time, I was about to have my second SPECT scan (, the first being a baseline, the second after a focus/concentration exercise), and the technician didn't arrange me correctly, and my shoulder was in contact with the head that was about to rotate. As I now knew the procedure, I told him the scanner head was touching my shoulder. He gave me a sheepish look, as if he knew, and re-positioned me so the rotating scanner head could freely move around me, per normal. I thought it was odd he looked sheepish instead of reacting apologetically, but as this has "happened" so often among for those I don't know, I could not judge it to be normal or not at the time.

A Wednesday yoga session with the male instructor, now hiding behind a large beard. Normally I don't go this night of the week, but as the Monday session was closed for Thanksgiving, I decided I should stay limber all the same.Said instructor was masking his protruding gut with baggy clothing, nothing new there in perp arrangement for over-sized stalkers. A yogi dude with brown shorts and hairy legs (three Unfavoreds there) keeps planting himself beside me, and now the fourth time he ends up a mat away. The ridiculous man with the heavy breathing "habit'/act was there too; doesn't he ever get better lung capacity in the two years of his yoga attendance that I have known?

Yellow colors are also big among the gangstalk crowd today, and lo, if I didn't "happen" to have corn for lunch and dinner.

I hadn't seen the Star Girl in yoga, for a year or so, and barely recognized her now that her hair is dyed red (Unfavored). Her wrist star tattoos have expanded down her L arm and it looks like someone took a jagged felt pen to it. All for me to see of course as she was adroitly aligned to block my line of sight to the instructor with he tattoos visible. And she made sure I could not figure it out as she kept coming and going and moving her mat before class. The rest of her was worth looking at though. Which is a common perp arrangement; put the babe beside or in line of sight with the dude (instructor in this instance), and see how I separate the Favored from the Unfavored.

And of all things, after three years of attempts, the assholes finally let me do a wheel pose. That measure of decency, if it could be termed that (more like obstruction relenting), didn't stop them from wobbling me during the balances; they simply move my foot on me and I have no control of this.

And why do the perps continue to sabotage my cut/paste function in Windows? I copied a tracking number and then when I want to paste it, Paste is greyed out, likely because they wiped the Paste buffer before I could paste. Lets see, I get a few of these stunts a week, and it is always some long random number that is hell to recall window to window.

A two hour work day for job orientation in preparation for next week, this being sorting, grading and packaging tree seedlings. And some piece rate incentive in it too, though I am always rather guarded about  this arrangement, having been in the daffodil picking fields where the hourly Mexicans get the best fields and the locals on piece rate, get the rest, all to keep the total picking cost lower. But, it seems this isn't the same arrangement; the seedling containers arrive and one pulls, sorts and bundles and packages inside without concern over the vagaries of field conditions.

And while in this lunch room with 40 people or so, the perps put on some green plasma spots in my visual field, and I wasn't in a situation I could avert or close my eyes. And  no one pretended to notice these floating orbs of light.

On the drive home, I get a yellow vehicle escort for 5 minutes, and then an ambulance (white, with red painted lines here in BC) was on dog-me duty, even passing me when I was 10km/hr over the speed limit. More tag with the ambulance, followed, me getting ahead at the traffic lights and the fucker following me into a my residential area. No emergency of course; and what is the deal over this ambulance chasing all the time?

And three times today, including the dim lit evening, of the red and white fire trucks "happening" to be driving by. Do we see a theme here?

So onto to getting my haircut in the early afternoon, but I wasn't able to get out when I intended, as my new hiking boots from STP arrived. And a extra $85 ransom payable to UPS no less. Some was the federal sales tax, other was "duty". In the past they have been scamming with "duty" from products from the US, where there is free trade agreement (no duty). So I will have to look at this one to see if it is legit; yet another nail to pound down.

The perps finally let me in on this latest forced expense of new boots; the whole $350 expense was totally unneeded. They had me in pissy over the the shoe repair guy who didn't come through and wouldn't back up his work, so "instead" of spending $160 to fix them up, they had me spend $350 for a very stiff pair of mountaineering boots. But as I have a pair of sturdy safety toed work boots (that aren't falling apart any more, repaired at least 3x by said shoemaker), I could of worn them for this next two month working gig and taken the hiking boots to a reliable shoemaker I know in Victoria. Like WTF; they screw me down to a lower income two weeks ago, and then concoct this fuckery over boot repairs and then invoke a fake "need"  that cost me $350 for boots I didn't really need if I was allowed full access to my native analytical faculties.

A hair cut today; the same native Indian girl as last time, tho' she didn't seem quite so scared and even smiled a few times. At this hair and spa training school the student hair cutters rotate every 6 to 9 months, so I usually won't see the stylist permanently. The  6'4" male negro "student' was at the next station, the third encounter now, he being allowed to slowly get closer, and more visibly too. No hanging behind work stations in the next aisle and the rest of the partial glimpses the perps so like to arrange with the Unfavored specimens they inject all the time. He got duty on my R side, and during a hair dye treatment wait for the adjacent customer, he hung around on the L side talking to the instructor at her desk.

It was nearly three years ago when I was getting my legs waxed at this same establishment (different location then) and I was behind this curtain where I observed three negro males doing whatever behind mirrors etc. at a work station. There was no stylist helping them, and I couldn't figure out what they were doing there, besides putting on the putz/loiter/act. At one point of of them started to walk toward me, enough to get my attention (read, threat assessment), and then inexplicably retreated to join the other two. Anyhow, the three of them strut out in file after an hour and didn't need to pay for anything, and again, no staff seemed to have anything to do with them. Go figure.

Plenty of fat girls today, though, not at the forest seedling nursery crew, but on the street and at the hair salon. In particular, one of the staff seems to have a large ass and needed to strut behind me at least 8x. The even larger, and very pleasant, spa instructor was also there, and lo, if she and the odd-stick male stylist instructor weren't conversing out back on the back street where I returned to my vehicle. I say "odd-stick" in regards to his appearance; usually with one or two day's facial hair, wearing jeans, and looking a little like a alkie at a publicly accessible hair stylist salon. Again, this could all be an act just for me when I am there, as unusual adult male appearances (Unfavored) consistently get my attention.

Post hair cut, and a mighty swarm of vehicular traffic around me on a Thursday after noon in October in Penticton, (not exactly tourist season now), and I go to a 20% of sale to a specialty foods and supplements store. What a mistake; all these dudes strutting around me, doing the faux shopping act, bend overs at the at the same shelf location for five minutes, and then at least four of them in separate events, come within 4' to get my attention (read, threat assessment), then turn around with their back facing me, and inexplicably stop (facing down aisle) and not even pretending to be looking at merchandise, and then retreat. Why are so many dudes so fucking deranged in the same way in the same store? Enough of the herding as well, and I got the fuck out of there, also getting scrambled in not getting all the items I wanted. And this wouldn't be the first time gangtalking fever has erupted post-haircut.

A big day for plastic bag games today; the maverick-cum-exasperator former full time employer has me back for some fill-in days helping him with his wine making ambitions. He won't buy stainless steel tanks, and so he uses large plastic bags inside plastic picking bins as his "tanks". He recently got some serious bags (purpose made) with bung holes for filling to replace his "system" of liner bags which wasn't working too well as the fruit flies got in. He has 30+ tons of grapes invested into this venture this year, and a few weeks ago tried to persuade me to be his full time wine maker for the next two months. Thankfully, the above mentioned forest seedling job came up, and so I will work there on Saturdays only. That includes tomorrow of course, and provides some extra cash to pay for the above mentioned expenses that need to be addressed.

Earlier, I advised him to take most of his 30 tons to a cooperative winery and let some professionals do the wine-making while he worked out his plastic bag "system", but he does things his own way. How much all of this is for real, or contrived to raise my angst over the exceptional risk-taking is beyond me, though he has been absolutely consistent in being excessively parsimonious to the point of incurring self-defeating risk, or even greater costs later. The perps like to arrange "I told you so" events for me, and this guy invokes a whole lot of that. Anyhow, I don't understand how he would turn down $80k in grape harvest revenue to instead launch into this winery venture with unproven methods and the barest of equipment. Though to be fair, he did get a used wine pump recently, a 1.5" intake hose, which can move wine with the gentleness it deserves in decent volume.

Wine pumping with the boss man yesterday, and we didn't get it all done, and so I worked today (Sunday). It wouldn't of been his choice, as he likes his days off, but it had to get done. I was hoping to finish by noon and take my new boots hiking, but his intentional dithering for two hours in the morning, meant that I got there at 0800h and didn't get seriously pumping until nearly 1100. And then the clean up of the plastic bags took over two hours after the pumping was over, and so no hiking. All I got to do was take the boots there, and then sitting them on red brick while I wore my gum boots for the day.

For some perverse reason he has run the sprinklers in the same area that lines the driveway three days in succession, and for the last two, opened up the hose that I need to hose down tanks and bins. Which means it floods the cleaning area, and the pressure it has makes it unmanageable. And as a bonus today, the perps pulled on off rain for the afternoon to add to their water games.

The muddy residue after the wine ferment is called the lees, and I had to extract it from these plastic bags and direct it to this ditch. It was a total mess, and my boots and clothes were covered in this yellow mud mess. Another trip to the laundromat afterward, having done all my laundry last night. In the laundromat, and on the yellow theme, a dude on his cell phone with his presumed wife and daughter, both blonde and pony tailed. Said dude did the come-at-me move to get my immediate attention and diverted so something else. On my return, he did the parallel cell-phone stalk. The laundromat has a bank of washing machines some 50' long, and they had laundry going at each end, and me ending up in the middle. Funny how the "split couple" or "split family" stalking move comes up.

That is all the news for this past week; onto two employers, one of them new, though sorting and packing forest seedlings is known to me four years ago before I moved to the Okanagan Valley.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Scrubbing Bins

I was busy scrubbing picking bins at the vineyard today, by hand brush to get rid of the residual grape skin color that should of been washed off instead of it getting worse for the last week. So, a plastic bristled brush on plastic bins, and that begat me at least three low helicopter passes, some 200' above terrain. An EC-135 came in low at first, and about five minutes later, a Bell 206 came by on the identical flight path. This particular path was parallel and above the power-line that borders the property. A third helicopter of unknown type came by 10 minutes later, and then a private biz jet came in low, about 200' above terrain, then climbed while circling, and then eventually dropped elevation to land at Penticton airport.

I got my auto aftermarket door handle painted at a body shop; strangely, the guy had it in both hands and delivers it in this mode to me while staring at me with a loopy grin for crissakes. Weird.

Another online order obstruction, this time STP where I had not purchased anything for two years. (mainly because the US-Canadian exchange rate is so widely different now than then). The order flips into shipping, and then repeats again, and I have no idea if the item was ordered twice or what. I had to enter all my financial information twice for some reason, and at first glance it looks like like only one of two order was made. All part of the FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt) games the perps like to play, especially for financial transactions.

And some concerted sinus filling and then congestion as latter part of a cold of some three weeks. It took at least 10 minutes for me to unload the R nostril which green material spewed forth, then the L sinus suddenly pressurized, and was relieved with white colored material. And not to be outdone, the R sinus got congested again, and needed more relief, still going with the green color. All this to precede my first trip to the tanning salon this winter. Apart from a vehicular following where the driver needed to tail me, and then proceed past my parked car, (the driver going back the direction he came from, looping through the same parking lot that I used), and the salon attendant, the perps left me alone for once. No family hour at the tanning salon, nor any lounging dudes loitering with scant purpose in the waiting area.

I worked this Saturday, to keep the wine-making area clean, orderly, and use the forklift to transport some heavy items to a separate building for warm overwinter storage. This particular forklift is designed for smooth concrete surfaces, but on this site it is packed gravel. Needless to say, one must be careful not to go onto soft ground as it will get stuck. Last year I had already bogged it down twice, so I had to be careful to not to get it stuck again. Which means being extra careful at the driveway shoulders and and not getting it stuck.

Yesterday, the Jo-ho's came to visit me at this rural vineyard property, driving in some 300' all to have me turn them away inside of 5 seconds. The Fat Girl shows me a copy of the Watchtower with a mosaic of human faces on it, and lo, half of them were negro (Unfavored) pictures. The E Indian male (Unfavored x2) was 20' away in a fedora, (also Unfavored) and volunteered a winery story. No thanks to that too. Three of them, or more likely, pro-perps, devoted to this task of pissing me off with negro pictures in mid day, as if I needed any more Unfavorable circumstances than I already get in this purgatory of relentless arranged adversity. The perps keep telling me that this Fat Girl was ML in morph-over, but what do I care. I just deal with the realities that present themselves, and don't wish to speculate on their telepathic pollution.

I finally succumbed to the telepathic onslaught of getting new work/hiking boots rather than spending some $150 to get them repaired. I was particularly pissed that the new soles, only three months old are worn out when I was led to believe that I would get even better longevity than the new ones that cost me $115. I cannot understand why the perps need to attack my footwear so much, especially when these boots were at the shoemaker's shop for at least three weeks, and at least two more short visits to get the soles re-glued as they were delaminating. Though, there it is clear that the perps have a research obsession over rubber (from rubber tree latex) in all it forms and blends; e.g. automotive tires, footwear, etc.

The alternate work boots, safety toed and less suited for hiking  have finally made it past four weeks duration without losing their soles. I think they were in the shoemakers for at least six weeks in aggregate over three visits this summer. Not only are the boots falling apart way too frequently but the repairs are too, not to mention the shoemaker annoying me too. He is the only one in town it seems.

A glorious sunny day, and somehow I got subverted into futzing around in the morning, and then in the afternoon, a futile exercise in attempting to repair the L rear passenger door handle that is broken, now over three weeks. This being the Camry sedan that I have owned since 2012, and paid for my perp abetting mother. It seems the perps wanted to stop me from using that seat where I store my duffel bag of clothes for work, or for groceries as it is the most convenient place to temporarily place things. I had station wagons or pickup trucks all my motoring ownership, and the sedan thing just seems so stupid. A rear tailgate beats a trunk anytime. Hence the continuing planted notions of getting a Volvo 850 wagon but as I am now relegated to a paycheck to paycheck existence, it isn't going to happen. And "happen" of course is a charged term, as there is nothing that just "happens" in this highly controlled existence of being a TI of extreme interest, and of extreme abuse in the course of their continuing nonconsensual human experimentation in situ. And vehicle colors are of extreme interest to the perps, and I believe I have made this plain over time when reporting on the vehicle trains, oncoming or ahead of me, with the carefully selected colors, often in grey-scale colors, from white, silver grey, grey and black. Often they put a red, yellow or rarely, a brown vehicle in the middle of the train, or pod, the latter indicating a two lane (or more) clustering of vehicles. Navy blue is also a key perp vehicle color, though I haven't figured out its relative status; it seems to be neutral between Unfavored (red, yellow, brown0 and Favored, silver-grey. My vehicle color is a mid-grey, and my prior vehicle from 1992 to 2006 was silver grey.

Anyhow, after suitable Youtube exposure on how to do the task, I got started on removing the rear door panel, which came to be a near hour long exercise. I had to check a few more videos to find out how exactly to remove the interior door handle bezel, and eventually succeeded even if I got faked out over a recess pocket that had no screw head at the bottom of it. And lo, when I got the panel off there really wasn't decent access to the door handle, especially worse in that the control rod linkages could not be seen from behind the door panel sheet metal. And of course, the videos didn't have a 1997 rear door example, usually it was a front door. I decided I was beat; there was no way I could reliably install the new door handle. A $210 bill at the dealership awaits, and without a steady gig at this juncture of vineyard work, this one hurts big time.

And having ordered hiking boots rather than pay the shoemaker for more putzing around, I am going to be strapped for cash it seems.

On the heath front, the perps are busy renewing the urinary urgency problem. My supplements were successful from Feb. to late September (2015), but they arranged for the key supplement to run out during a long work spell. I couldn't get to the store for a week, and lo, the assholes used this lapse to bring on this once-treated problem. The testosterone I now take doesn't seem to help, and the urologist was utterly useless back in Feb. He said, via his office assistant, "response from medication X will vary, and if symptoms persist, go see your GP". That from an urologist for crissakes. I cannot get a GP, but I mentioned this to the drop-in clinic doctor and she was just as aghast as I was. Why do I get such useless doctors all the time? (The current hormone treatment doctor a rare exception). A list of their ineptitudes, if not coordinated obstructions, could be a posting unto itself. Mainly, it all relates to dopaminergic causes, as the one sure thing I know, is that I have ADD-Inattentive subtype, as diagnosed with a SPECT brain scan in 2001. Which has been my trump card to counter the shrinks who prescribed dopamine antagonists (blocking agents), a fucking crime IMHO. Some eight of them, all somehow missed on determining my iron deficiency, as discovered and blogged about earlier this year (2015). And there sits an iron molecule in tyrosine hydroxylase, the main enzyme to break down tyrosine into dopamine precursors. Not a one of them even said a thing.

 Thanksgiving Day N of the 49 Parallel today, so I will get this wrapped up for posting soon.

And I see that the perps are sucking me down into depression-land again, what they have always done; all my successful medications going back 20 years, slowly (somehow) lose their beneficial effect. The latest is the testosterone and DHEA I am taking. I was contented, mellow and more together for most of the first month I started these meds, and now the depressogenic suck down is on. It is so consistent, it has to be the perps at it again and their dopamine depletion agenda.

Monday, October 05, 2015

Vineyard Last Day

Friday, and the last day of regular employment at the vineyard. I may work some odd days, and one for picking, but no regular paycheck for a while. I may have a month or so starting in two weeks. And just this evening, my former vineyard/wine making employer wants me for the interim.

Yesterday, I was picking puncture vine at a vineyard 65km south, not far from the US border. The perps always like to remind me of international borders for some reason, and have me recall the orchestrated event of 2003 when they had the INS/US Border Patrol pull their gun on me for no reason whatsoever. When asked what the purpose of my trip was, I honestly stated that I wanted to clean out my apartment in Seattle. They asked me to come inside their office and so I did. After some idle chit chat with one agent at the counter I waited on the bench inside, and after about 5 minutes one furtive agent gives me a stare from 30' away, and then next thing I know he has a gun trained on me and is asking me to stand up with my hands up, and to face away from him. More instructions followed to bend over, and put my hands on my back.and only then did his helpers come to put cuffs on me. All to give me a piece of paper saying I had to see a US consulate approved doctor, which as it later turned out, there was no such thing. That was the second of three border crossing stunts/obstructions, and eventually I had to get a "friend" (a former work colleague), who just happened to be circulating for me to make a casual request after he offered to help me in any way. Funny how those coincidences keep erupting.

Another educational institution massacre, early in the term. And why are they so often at the begining or the end of terms? This cannot be any fluke. Seeming these dispossessed "shooters" lose it at these junctures, but somehow don't at mid-term, (mid October to November) and then they erupt again in December for the first term, and again at the end of the second term in late March or April.

I know, it gets tedious, speculating on the connection between the Targeted Individual and all tragedies that endlessly repeat themselves. Just let me say, that the perps have a profound and unrelenting interest in how I learn things, all that I know, and how learning (facts) becomes knowledge and then when applied in a test or challenge (formal or informal education). Call it the epistemology of information, aka information theory. Exactly what this might mean for the perps is beyond me, but whenever they want answers they go for the metaphoric jugular. That is, have a shooter unload at a educational institution to have the dying bleeding all over their desks, hallways etc. This time in Roseburg OR. I have never been there, though my ex went there on a business trip a few decades ago. I suppose the perps can link people energies to earth energies in all ways, especially by moving them around in immigration, singly or en masse. I will leave these speculations to those that have have articulated substantive theories on quantum information theory and here

And why do the perps continue to harass the fuck out of me by lifting up my heels and then causing me to recover from the imbalance? Though, they sometimes prevent me from recovering and send me to the ground. What kind of insane imbecile would do this to the same victim for 13 years running after 47 years of covert abuse with full life orchestration? This bullshit while picking grapes at work two days ago.

And if that weren't enough, the assholes also pull the just-severed grape cluster (bunch) from my hand and send it to the ground instead of allowing me to place it in a bucket. They like to do this by various means; force my hand open, have the grape bunch "unexpectedly" snag and then pull it from my hand, and too, somehow fumbling the simple act of placing it in the adjacent bucket. Some 20 times in two hours or so, again, the above question about the imbeciles applies

The assholes let me in on the fact they screwed me totally out of paying my bills this month end again. No doubt a $2 to $8 hit on my phone bill again, having this done to me about four months ago. And what is the point of that? The other two aren't paid exactly on month end, so they will be paid on time. I never forget these financial details, and there is no explicable explanation except my remote neural sabotage by insane assholes.

Back in 2002, a few weeks after the assholes went berserk/overt and kept me captive in Victoria BC (where I was visiting), they let me return for a day to Seattle with my perp-abetting mother, (though I did not know it then), to pay all my bills by paper-in-the-mail means. She was there doing ironing for me while all this transpired in my apartment. And lo, if all six to eight bills didn't get hung up in the mail, and I got notices that they hadn't been paid. I wrote new checks, and lo, if the first ones didn't come through and I ended up with credits for the next month. So bill payment sabotage isn't new, as well as all financial transaction stalking/harassment/sabotage.

Why is that the perps want me to see fugly tattoos? (All tattoos are fugly IMHO). Two of my favorite muses of late, Megan Nash and Allison Crowe have God-awful full arm tattoos on their left arms. I have seen the latter twice in live performances, the first time in late 2003 and no tattoos then. I saw her play two years ago in Victoria and what a fugly left arm she had. Unrelated to the tattoos, at one point in the concert she said "I am not supposed to say this but,..." and went into a innocuous ramble, which is totally within character as she is so bubbly and talkative. But why the strange qualification? Which is consistent with what I claim, my life and in all its interactions, is orchestrated to the last detail. It would seem something came to mind as she was talking and then she qualified it in this strange manner.

Last week, I got to see the garbage man face to face as the assholes fucked me out of getting the garbage to the lane Thursday night, and I was only allowed to know when the garbage truck was coming by the next morning. So I had to scoot with the can and 60' down the lane, and gave him the garbage can. And lo, if he didn't have a left forearm plastered with fugly tattoos along with his arm hair. Doubly Unfavored, and and that was just his arm.

A Sunday, and my first day off in three weeks, given the unpredictable harvest schedules of vineyards. Not only did I get to sleep in, but I also got nailed for a 2.5 hour nap attack in the afternoon. Sometimes these nap attacks leave me as I if I have been brain numbed, and need hot tea and chocolate to "recover". That is, my recovery can be faked, as well as the notion that hot tea seems to do the job. Anyhow, that put a hole in my day and the plans to get tomato canning done came to nothing.

Getting laundry done was a priority, even if a freak show assembled in and outside. The French Canadian pickers got freak show duty this time, the corded/matted dreadlocks seem to be their specialty. More like errant clowns without the gaudy clothing, though I suppose that is coming next, perhaps next year. And the perps know I loathe clowns in the typical sense, along with vestiges of clashing clothing color, the oversized shoes and laces, and the too short pants that flare out at the calf. I never thought about all this until the perps kept up this particular theme and hounded me with all these Unfavored clothing features, usually on Favored attractive females, especially at yoga class.

After the first load of laundry was started I did some errands, and then returned early to have 15 minutes to piss away. As it "happened" a flea market had assembled in the adjacent parking lot so I went to check it out. The usual dreck, but I found some CD's and bought three from the vendor. I lingered around some more, getting steered by obstructing dudes and freaks and eventually returned to the laundromat. I was waiting for the last minute of spinning to finish, and lo, the CD vendor somehow "needed" to walk down the aisle some 8' from me. A minute later, he was walking back and then out to the lot. I suppose the cover story is that he needed to use the washroom in the laundromat and found it occupied, and then walked out again. But as this is totally consistent with the gangstalking scene that follows me everywhere, I am calling it the latter. Said person didn't even bother to say hello when he was nearby and I was looking at him, and he was doing the perp-standard look ahead (and nowhere else) act. Hopefully he will get a decent chin out of the deal if he wasn't a morphed-over salaried Fuckwit. As again, the perps know I have a distaste for recessed chins (=Unfavored), something I didn't know until all this began when the perps went berserk/overt on me in 04-2002.

Enough rambling, and on to posting this latest string of abuse for the public record. Though you can be assured that by no means is this a full record of the insults, faked touches and the rest of the unconventional harassment.