Sunday, April 17, 2016

Fourteen Years On


Not quite 14 years since this reign of psychopathic extra conventional abuse was overtly declared by the perps, that would be 04-15-2002. But as this week covers the anniversary of that particularly gruesome event that has ripped my existence to shreds, even as we speak/blog, it is close enough to call this posting the 14th Anniversary of Hell On Earth edition.

Even the notion of living in a free democratic county (USA then, Canada now) has been roundly debased, found to be a nominal notion for mass consumption at best. The concept of freedom as we conceive it is simply a Notion of Mass Deception in my jaded experience. Or, ask any TI for that matter; the law is a joke, the police (and other LEO's) are abetting criminals, and the medical professionals are compliant dupes to support the harassment and abuse of certain individuals that are selected for unrelenting persecution in the form of gangstalking, orchestrated staring, health invasions, coincidences beyond the norm, containment in magnetic (over 1800Gauss) and plasma fields beyond any normal background level and worst of all, remotely applied neural invasion in real time to alter vision, hearing, perceptions, thoughts and control of one's motor faculties. All in the name of human non-consensual experimentation of course, nothing new in 20th century medical and educational practice, with the abiding precept that the persecutors/Psychopathic Confederacy/ECCO/perps/assholes will not declare themselves to their victims, or the populace at large. Sure, my family are in on the gig, as are a cast of thousands of locals, but no one is telling me squat, save the odd exception noted in the Anecdotes posting.

As a consequence of this invasive tyranny, there isn't a day that I look forward to getting up; I'd rather die in my sleep every night. And if I want to end it another way, by running a knife into my wrist, why, an invisible force field stops it. Long past experience is that they can choke one's throat as needed to prevent pills from going down, as well as making them sticky so they cannot be swallowed. That big cliff called McIntyre Bluff that the perps like me to hike up to from the trail side isn't an option either. I don't care for heights much and the perps make sure that governs my visit time up there. Plus, the notion doesn't even come to mind. Firearms aren't readily available in this country, about the only remaining direct and quick way of dealing with this infernal scourge.

Then to add recent insult to injury, a TI from Boston pulls this bizarre stunt of calling me a perp on her blog for crissakes. (Cannot find the link now). Not only is that an absurd and fatuous
[adjective, 1. foolish or inane, especially in an unconscious, complacent manner; silly 2. unreal; illusory] lie, or perhaps a mistaken belief, such a slanderous assertion suggests that all these 1700+ blog postings are somehow fabricated. Do yer due diligence RO; contact Debbie Newhook ( and  get a character reference, as they seem to be a rather useful vindicating method based on your recent experience. I have met Debbie at least three times, and spoke with her on the phone at least that again, and on one of her activist radio interviews she described me as "abused". And if she is an insufficient character reference, have her provide the names of those at the TI meeting we had at her place in 2010. And report your results, as I would love to hear what they are. And if you are ever out this way (western Canada, province of British Columbia) on your book research tour, come by and chat, no malice intended or held.

There is nothing like TI's to crap on each other, except perhaps for alien researchers. Hmm, maybe there is a common linkage there.

Another day of hell on the bottling line, made worse by the fact that the perps won't let me use my own (fair, not great) motor skills. Dithering my finger control, to make things worse (what else) all fucking day long. Naturally the anal retentive staff were on my ass, nagging and belittling, even if their claimed performance improvements weren't what they could attain themselves even.

Weed spraying and weed eating kept me from bottling today, but no such reprieve, such as it was, for tomorrow (read on).

On the bottling line again, this time taking a place where I was relatively free from nagging. Though there were plenty of adversities, though not of conventional human origin. We were doing well in the morning, but some equipment issues stalled us for the afternoon, and making for a shorter day. As usual, there is plenty of people action to walk or stand upon the very ground I had just vacated.

I was feeding the bottling line by dumping the upside down boxes on the platform so they end up right side up, and I push them in sequence onto the conveyor line. But of course nothing goes right, especially for me, and lo, if the perps didn't arrange a box insert/bottle separator to drop out too, getting in the way of conveying bottles down the production line. (To be then be conveyed on the equipment to be washed, dried, filled, corked, capsuled and then to be packed into the boxes by a coworker.) There isn't a second to spare, and if the separator comes out I need to somehow make sure the bottles go down the line and yet somehow put it back into the box one-handed. This isn't supposed to happen very often but for me, why, six in a row, 40x in two hours is "normal". And with cardboard boxes at my chest and letting the bottles out, why, that is perp heaven all that cardboard box contact. Add in that some were white boxes, though most were green with ink rub off to boot.

The 14th Anniversary of the Abusive Hell On Earth Onset today. Surprisingly, the perps laid off some, though the wine bottling work started as a hassle, and eventually I was allowed to improve my technique, and lo, if it didn't work.

I was dumped into a whole new world of abusive tyranny 14 years ago today, and things were mighty intense for the first year. A week before my co-workers began staring at me for no discernible reason and I hadn't done anything spectacular or otherwise to deserve it. Ms. L, who I would see a couple of times a week and was fun to be with had departed for NYC that week. Then Ms. C came back into my orbit and was at first pleasant and then sometimes weird. Strange enough that I wasn't going to spend Sunday night at her place, but instead do my income tax return at my place. I was getting scrambled for some reason, and could not apply myself to getting it done, the first of many unusual behaviors that came to be imposed on me.

There was a climate of impending doom though I could not understand how this came on. There was someone else on my PC and I could not figure out how they were on it. At some point I went out to work out at 24Hr Fitness and when I came back my place had been searched  by someone who wanted me to know about it. Clothes in my closet had been moved and shifted, a blue ink stain was on my chair mat at my PC, and some things were missing. I hadn't done anything illegal and was wondering what on earth this was all about. Later, about three males on an apartment balcony were looking over at my apartment that had the venetian blinds down. There were some small divots in the venetian blind slats, a rather strange event as they weren't otherwise mangled or significantly bent. And of all things, someone had had applied a nylon tie every 2' on this vertical pair of lead wires I had dangling from the top of the wall as I had installed a transformer for a low voltage lighting system. These nylon ties kept the two wires in a neat tidy bundle instead of the loose and separated look they had. This was constructive sabotage, not something the average police department would do.

Anyhow, I got spooked enough that I thought they were after something on my PC and took the hard drive out and decided to get rid of it elsewhere, away from the building. So I figured with some big imminent takedown that I would spend the night at 24Hr Fitness and drove down there this time. At 0200-0500h one can get a good take on who is there and why, as there aren't many folks there at that time. Sure enough, a SUV arrives outside my parked vehicle street side, as viewed at through the glass while on the treadmill, and stays there for a minute or so, double parked. Some dudes were inside, and why they had to park outside of my vehicle when there was plenty of street parking at that time was most curious.

Then some dudes arrived in the gym and seemed to be doing a half assed job of working out, more like they were doing it out of duty. And no less, packing a big bulge on their hip under their gym sweats. Anyhow, a few more surfaced, and I decided to split. I went to my locker, to get my gear and was going to take some more ADD medication and the pill bottle was gone. I had made a purposeful effort to bring them with me, to keep me awake of course. I drove back, but parked my vehicle on the street instead of in my stall five floors down. I got back to my apartment and my pill bottle was sitting on the bathroom counter, which clearly meant they had stolen it from my locker and put it back there ahead of me getting back.

Anyhow, I was pondering what all this was about when I fell asleep on my floor and the next recollection I had was six dudes packing me on their shoulders and placing me in that very same spot. Then the show began, and little did I know I was front and center. The door shifted a half inch in its frame, slowly, but enough to see it in progress. The whole show was scrambled in temporal terms, and to this day it causes me to ponder how they did that, as I NEVER forget event order of anything. They zapped me, they invoked brown colored beams that caused me to collapse to the floor, batteries rolled into view by themselves (on a carpeted floor), a 2' diameter hole was being cut into the floor, a screwdriver somehow arrived and when in hand I pulled on the steel blade and it bent into a 90 degree angle. Steel was made to be malleable without heat or change in the look no less, (the plastic handle stayed intact). Dogs barked outside in the hallway with the sound of rattling chains so I barricaded the door, only to find my props slipped, so I threw my CDs in the entrance hallway to foil this particular threat. At one point they allowed me to see someone teleporting through the bathroom wall and stepping into the bathtub. (At the time I thought they had rigged a door in the tiles, but on later examination it was all intact). Other unconventional events were these flies, later to be ascribed to being masers, that would plague me, or else fly at each other and then cross paths in front of me, presumably to check on my ability to track objects. (It is extremely rare they let me see a teleportation in progress, as usually there is a few seconds of forced inattention or an obstructing object and poof, they are gone or arrived).

At some point they signaled the end of this in-apartment unconventional assault, and I expected to see someone to arrest me, but no one showed up. No one.  Later they invoked a "reason" for me to visit another apartment at the opposite end of the complex but no one was there. I cut through the courtyard and lo, there were about 10 to 15 people lined up in two ranks for a group picture. I cannot recall if I ducked around this or not, but when back in my apartment someone came to visit, and for some reason I was OK with that, even if I never met him before. He blew up a balloon and then took it to the bathroom and flushed the balloon into the throat of the toilet to block it. And for some reason I didn't call him on this one. A few months later this asshole was walking past my vehicle while it was on the ferry car deck and I was inside, just awakened.

The next day at work, a Tuesday, no one said squat even if I missed a whole day without notice. On my way there, my very first gangstalker was in the hallway,  sitting there in the entry way chairs with this loopy grin on his face. (No one ever used the chairs to sit in, and why at 0900h?) On the way to work I discovered my street parked car with parking tickets on it, so I had to take it back to my parkade stall. Clearly the perps wanted to eliminate the option to drive away while this apartment assault was in progress.

At work, I learned my boss had the day off (Monday), and my former boss was away sick that day. Too much of a coincidence, and this was only the beginning of managed coincidences that dog me to this day.

Later in the week the targeted head pains started up, delivered to my head anywhere I was except around metal. This began a whole series of night time driving to avoid the pain, as I could not do anything else when they turned this on.

I haven't read my story (NB 27pp) for a few years, but I sure it has more of the particulars that followed those few months, and into the next year.

Saturday, and one that I took off to deal with the backlog of errands. The recycling of glass cannot be done curbside here, so it gets done with other items of the same category.

The the walk-in clinic doctor had some more test results and more mysteries unfold; my PSA is up and my bilirubin too, and something else too so more blood tests for next week. Something else to complicate my life and serve the perp purpose of more blood draws. Which strikes me as odd, as they can extract it by teleportational means anytime they want, so it must be all about doing it the conventional way for comparative purposes to the rest of the non-harassed populace, aka, naive human subjects

Then a hair cut and leg wax, and all performed by three fat ladies; the hair stylist, and the student and instructor on the leg wax job. Back to the wax habit after a winter of shaving; who knows what perp imperative this serves

This is cleaned up enough to post I figure. if there are any anomalies let me know as I getting intense keyboarding dithering at this very moment.


Anonymous said...

A lot of TI's have abandoned their blogs I've noticed. Rachael has gradually turned to distrust of males. She is always surrounded by male perps, and all of a sudden, there are no male TI's; only females can be TI's. And males are violent, but females are all gentle lambs. It's so insane, because there are plenty of stories about females committing violent crimes. Just because the perps are surrounding her with male assholes? They must have her so stressed that she can't see through reality through the perps' smokescreen.

AJH said...

Answer to: "A lot of TI's have abandoned their blogs..."

Yes, there is an element of the abuser-males in my harassment-scope, and for a female it can be all the more daunting/potentially traumatic. And yes, Ms. C of my story jerked around my ass big time in the intense harassment days of 2002, though never to the point of violence.

Hardly a week goes by when I don't lament for RO and the precarious state the perps keep her in. So... I won't dwell on her motives anymore, as I am sure they are much more complicated than I can appreciate. Thanks for the comments.