Pre-Christmas Wrap

12-22-2015
I have been remiss in not keeping to my weekly schedule, but it seems events just "happened" that way. And I note that I am down 6 followers, the Blogspot kind, though I suspect that this is unrelated.. Or perhaps, the numbers are being rigged, as I don't really keep up on my regular readers. Or perhaps Google/Blogspot did some housekeeping. I don't see any comments castigating me for (...fill in the blank...). It is a common perp set-up for them to have a shill become overly offended and depart in a huff. (Aka, "the person doth protested too much").

Anyhow, I am now at the First Feral Family house here in Victoria, BC, the original Gangstalk Capital of Canada, though in fact, that term could apply to anywhere I live. (I now live in Penticton, BC, where I do viticulture laboring work, one step up from the farm labor the perps forced me into in 2008).

I was busy all last week with a vine pruning project, then one highly harassed day to get all my errands done, and then take my PC in the morning of my departure, getting a shuttle bus to Kelowna airport and then flying out non-stop to Victoria, BC, where a driving rainstorm was on for my arrival.

The next day there was driving duties for my perp-abetting mother, and of course, the loiter-around with the gangstalking assholes at LD, where she needed a new kettle. The present electric kettle had been leaking for over a year, and finally she had decided to do something about it. Naturally, the gangstalking force was out in droves, as they so do love to be there whenever a purchase decision (or any decision for that matter) is made, and of course, loiter all the more when a financial transaction is being made. In this case, she was doing the purchasing.

Though a few minutes before that it was my turn to purchase items at the nearby organics store; the various specialty foods and the supplements I "happened" to "forget" to bring with me. I had a stash of these specialty foods here at the First Feral Family house from last year, and they were all cleaned out. My perp-abetting mother swears she never touched them, so it was either the visiting brother or else it was the perps themselves.

On the latter account they seemed to have stolen more of my belongings stored in the crawl space; a box of kitchen items has gone missing as well as a backpack full of my forestry equipment. I cannot imagine that anyone would steal the latter for any purpose, as no one else in the FFF is trained in forestry, so just where did all this go?

An addition to the stolen items list was my tax returns of 1999 and 2000, as I needed to look them up to find out what my daughter's SSN was, as she is US born. For some reason both were missing from the file folders, though a single photocopy for 2000 was there. (The originals were in black folders, both missing). Missing tax forms isn't anything new, as the to-be-ex stole the aforementioned 1999 tax return sometime in 2001 when she and our daughter visited me in Seattle. (A pre-emptive divorce papers theft, or more like, directed by the perps before they outed themselves). It was only a month later when I found it missing and I got a replacement from the accountant, in a (another) black folder. So who in the fuck is still stealing my long-ago tax returns?

All this was preceded last year when I discovered my stereo speakers missing from the same set of boxes in the crawl space, only to see an identical pair at my out-of-town (this town) brother's place. At the time I mentioned that there were very similar to my pair that had gone missing but he and his wife assured me that they had the speakers for a number of years, which was patently false, because I had never seen them there before. But it seemed that they were ready for my questioning and had a pat answer. And besides, I was mind-fucked into not challenging them, and also "forgot" there was an identifying feature on one of the speakers behind the fascia covers.

I met up with my farm worker friend in Victoria three days ago, and had dinner out. On the prior day I asked if she wanted to see a jazz/pop singer who shall go by the initials HC, a favorite of mine. HC "happened" to be playing and if it weren't' for the write up in the newspaper I would not of known. But as there was some seats still available online, I purchased them the day before and got a pair of high up seats. It was a good show, and I was glad I went.

I was forced to take a pee before I could take my seat, and my farm worked friend stayed there and could of taken the seat next to the Fat Girl on the other side. But no, I was shoo-ed into sitting between them. My farm worker friend was dressed in a camel brown coat and kept it on the whole time there, and on my other side was the Fat Girl in a fuzzy red sweater and black pants. She was with at least one other Fat Girl dressed in green and a more slender one between them. For the first set HC was in a long red gown, not too surprising as she does go for the formal look, and too, the Victoria Symphony orchestra was playing as part of this Christmas show. But what was most curious that was when I shifted in my seat (by a forced perp discomfort sensation) the seat mates on either side moved within a second or two, one following the other, not together. This "happened" at least three times in the first set.

My farm worker friend also squirmed in her own seat a fair amount, and did the classic perp public bus pose of turning her back to me feigning that she was re-adjusting her posture to see when in fact there was no change in the view of the stage. The Fat Girl also made sure to lean forward at least a dozen times to suddenly arrive in my peripheral vision. I have plenty of antsy seat mates in the past, but these two took the cake. (Very often they clear the seats around me, and this time it was behind me). And also, someone was kicking the back of my seat to send vibrations through but there was no one there. Go figure.

For the second set HC was dressed in a long black gown, and when the Fat Girls returned to their seats, the slender one took an empty one behind which the red sweatered Fat Girl took one seat away, next to the other Fat Girl. Anyhow, having seating arrangements changed before, or at set break at concerts/shows is nothing new since all this infernal hell began in 04-2002. And lo, with the Fat Girl one seat away, she still did lean-forward games to get into my R peripheral vision, and my antsy/squirming farm worker friend kept up her fidgeting. It was a good show, and I was glad to have seen it. The perps seem to like me to catch a concert early in my return-to-Victoria visits, within three days of my flight, as this is a least the third time in four years.

And a heavy show of negroes all over me upon my trip/visit, starting with a negro male flight attendant doing the folksy intro and safety run down on the aircraft PA, as well as the passenger meet and greet. And too, with my annual dose of TV, it too is heavy on negro video. Not to mention that awful tragedy in Las Vegas with a negro woman mowing down pedestrians in her vehicle and her mug plastered on the news for three nights running.

Other Unfavoreds are also in predominance; skin-headed males, tight crimp hair and fat people. A TV special on Odelle brought on some very fat folks. And too, my perp-abetting mother just had to come back downstairs in the late evening and loiter there while I was watching a crime show. The perps seem to get no end of mileage out of having me watch crime on TV, or else read it in the newspapers. Other planted stories they like to get a rise from me are the multicultural inanity out of Europe, and the seeming social/law abiding decay that goes with it. I read the UK paper, the Daily Telegraph, that there were 168 laser strike incidents on aircraft at Heathrow airport in 2014, which suggests it is a problem far greater than the lone nutter, and just might be another of those multicultural problems related to those who seem to have a need to bring down commercial aircraft for whatever perverse and misguided reasons they have, wrapped up in a religious fervor. Ditto for the recent terrorist mayhem in Paris at the Bataclan Theatre. And as all too usual, Canadian media, and likely the US media too, don't report the utterly deranged lunacy of the perpetrators; as quoted in the Daily Telegraph, the stated reason was that the theater was selected was that it was a "den of prostitution and vice". It almost makes me want to hug Donald Trump, though it is the last thing I would ever conceive of, even in this mind-fuck hell I have been cast into for the past 13.5 years.

Then the obligatory street crush/gangstalking show with my perp-abetting mother as well; the Christmas shopping excuse of course, and doing driving for her as she doesn't like to get off her usual daytime beat. Which also brought on the male crush gangstalk games, two or three abreast coming straight at me, and the same routine,- all two or three together yet pretending that they are unassociated and each looking elsewhere as they do this and of course, absolutely no manners, aka "pardon me". So much for the Christmas spirit. The stores they wanted me to stalked in were the LD (kettle purchase above), the specialty organics store, the liquor store (the perps just love all that wine and glass for whatever reason, likely related that they have me work in viticulture now), two book stores downtown and the inevitable grocery store. In the latter case it was most unusual as there is always a major gangstalking crush, but for some reason they backed off and then slowly built it up while my perp-abetting mother put on the delaying ditz games.

Anyhow, enough to post for this week and last, and given my now assigned grim perspective of all harassment games, these trying time