Sunday, January 15, 2017

Amateur Electrician

That would be me, amateur electrician, though I always do a professional job. I once took a house wiring course in the evening, taught by an electrician, and have always scrupulously followed the electrical code. I have in my house owning past installed 4-ways (two switches controlling two lights), 3-ways, a sub-panel, and a litany of switches and outlet boxes. And today, still at the First Feral Family house, I was at it again, as my perp-abetting mother needed an outlet near the top of the stairs for a night light to enable her to see the top of the stairs before descending. There isn't a decent overhead light, as it seems her vision is going. And as we all know, when it comes to renovations, even if limited to electrical ones, one project morphs into another.

And so it was; an install of the single gang electrical box, acquired at Home Depot in a mighty gangstalking scene yesterday, replete with blondes on cell phones with shopping carts reprising at both my aisle stops, and the inevitable shiftless and fugly dudes who parade behind them. (And who block the aisles and arrive for no seeming purpose). Actually, in "normal" perp keeping, they had me revisit the store again today, as the physical impossibility of cramming three connectors (marettes we call them here, but that is the manufacturer's name), and six conductors into a single gang box was nigh impossible. I looked up the "box fill" chart, and it was according to code for a 11 cubic inch box, but in TI World, where every possibility is exploited for maximum inconvenience and hassle, it wasn't doable. Besides, my mother had already had four AC plugs hanging off this single gang duplex receptacle, so I decided a two gang box with two duplex receptacles (4 outlets in all) was much better. And I got my box fill, and could jump the receptacles and avoid two connectors (marettes). It all worked better in the end, but what a grievous hassle it was.

Then the hassle was over getting the electrical box to fit in the wall straight, getting the receptacles plumb, getting the box positioned so the receptacles weren't sucked back into the wall, thwarting the inevitable push back from the springy conductors (normal), and many other adjustment problems. In the process, the assholes also made me grab the live outlet to get the characteristic AC tingle (electric shock) in the the fingers. Thanks assholes, I have done at least 200 hours of electrical work and I have never, ever, made that mistake before.

Then I get to repeat this electrical installation exercise again when back in Penticton in a few days see below), as they had me purchase ceiling mounted track and lighting. While the project was planted in mind for the last two years, I did not want to do this as it costs too much money. Lo, if there wasn't a local sale on lighting track and when making a phone inquiry, they seemed not to have it. But as the store was close to the irrigation store that I had just visited, I dropped by at the lighting shop and ended up with all the track, light heads and connecting boxes, all to pack back to Penticton in a few days time. The attractive blonde woman at the lighting shop put me onto the sales guy with the UK accent, who was a very decent and informative person. Then the near thing four days later when I wanted to get two more heads (light fixtures that fit on tracks), and bulbs; the attractive blonde woman was at the track section and got the UK guy again. Again, all was copesthetic with him.

Though the perps DO LOVE putting on UK accents around me; the BBC News of course, and dear Global Vancouver has a dishy new UK babe on the 6:00 news. Though I think they should of stuck with blonde AD, whom I just adore (and with a home grown accent).

And what exactly is it that so interests the perps so much in having me mess with household electrical wiring? The short answer is I don't know, but from what I can tell, by way of them pissing me off with finger fumbling, tool dropping and forced "forgets", they are interested in insulated sheathing and its colors, and all the associated wire stripping, revealing the copper wire and connecting the conductors. Woo-hoo; there are legions of electricians out there doing this work every day, and presumably the perps can surreptitiously follow them as they have done to me for my first 47 years, so what exactly is their interest? Again, I don't know, but given the perp's insane perseverance over showing me copper colored vehicles these 14.5 years of this abuse-athon, it might be about the copper color "vibe", and too, separating this from my interaction with the earth energies of this particular copper metal. Surely to fuck they have surveilled enough unaware subjects over the millennia wearing copper jewelry that they don't need to fuck with me over this? But no, the perps are utterly relentless, consistent and singular over whatever research objectives they have over copper, metals, and their electrification. And who knows how many times I handled copper ore samples by way of my youthful interest in geology, abetted by my father who was a geologist (though primarily in coal and oil).

I did the driving with my perp-abetting mother so she could acquire a walker, one she ordered last week. The perps pulled an advance hailstorm to line the roads with hail, still on the ground when she exited the store with her new walker. The perps went nuts with vehicular gangstalking once she exited the store; two Fuckwits parked broadside to the stalls, "causing" another two to get backed up behind them, all with this backdrop of hail still on the ground. Prior to that, a "warm up" to fuel the vehicle with a B-train fuel tanker "happening" to make a delivery and to force me to back up to the pump and was 10' away while fueling the vehicle. Then onward and stopping at HD, this time free of gangstalkers in the electrical department, but not at the checkouts which "happened" to have a customer surge (read gangstalking surge) when I arrived to pay. All to hold me up in attempting to pay, and haven't we done that at least a few thousand times since all the perps went beserk/overt on me in 04-2002?

I "happened" to encounter my former director at the MoF in my government forestry days,1990-1999 at the local LD store. These were the days of building software and a database for permanent sample plot data for forest growth and yield studies, a difficult project to say the least, as it took three attempts to get it nailed down with a system that was easy to maintain. Explicit rules and no hidden data meaning or black box subroutines was also part of the design criteria, coming from me, after witnessing the captive (and expensive) software maintenance situation that was endemic at the time.

Back to the "happenchance" meeting in the aisle of LD; he is coming at me head down and I didn't think anything of this person, just another gangstalker to negotiate around. Then he looks up to then identify me at the last instant, though by then I was looking past at him. It seemed so contrived, aka, arranged.

I drove from Victoria to Penticton today, mastering the BC Ferry, then the lower mainland arterials (Greater Vancouver) to get to Ikea, then onto the new 17 route to then get to the Hwy 1 which took me out the Fraser Valley to Hope, and after a fuel up, onto Hwy 5 (the Coquihalla Pass), then to Merrit, then to the 97c route to the Penask Summit to Peachland and then to Penticton. This was in my mother's Ford Escape, now mine, as she has decided she cannot drive any more. I had the summer tires on board along with a bunch of my own stuff that was lingering at the First Feral Family house, and also, to prevent more theft by my light fingered brother in Kamloops. (He appears to have stolen my speakers from the crawl space two years ago, and my 4' electronic level and some kitchenware have gone missing in the last year).

So... here I was driving a brown interior-ed vehicle with a light metallic tan body, and with 4 tires on board. And we know who loves all things rubber, don't we? Sure enough, they put on a flatbed with a load of five over-width new large vehicle tires, 12' in diameter (maximum lane width). It took a while to pass this long vehicle as it was steep and I wanted to be sure that I didn't sideswipe his load, hanging out as it was.

Back to getting things done in this town; banking and then onto getting my new eyeglasses, ones that had to be pulled and heated to get the frame to sit on my face straight. Not that the assholes had damaged the glasses any (unusual in all the history of wearing them), but that they just don't sit straight on my face right from the factory. So the old ones got fixed first as a practice round, and the new ones fixed second, the frames being identical, though both with slightly different modifications to have cable temples put on. Another game the assholes play is to have eyeglasses slip on my face all the time, and so I had to get them modified to deal with that bullshit, and the cable temples did a good job. Last year, one temple "failed" and was replaced and it then required a new custom cable. This made the temples asymmetrical (as they wouldn't use the one I supplied), a situation the perps constantly like to create. So today, I advance (in perp-think terms) to symmetrical temples on my eyeglasses frames, though the lenses are different.

My last pair of new eyeglasses got special perp attention in 2010, when they pulled this all-time ridiculous stunt of two men both wearing fedoras that came through the door as I was about to exit. Talk about a 1950's retro moment. Today, it was a blonde staff member trailed by a fugly elderly patient as my first sight after the frame adjustment person, who was very helpful (also blonde).

The perp driven compulsion over getting my legs waxed again. The student from last time began, and then the instructor came around 10 minutes later and worked on the other leg at the same time. She and I talk about wineries and wines each time, and it is very convivial with a three year history of our mutual topical interests. She is very large, and when done, why, I get to see her oversized ass from my horizontal level while she is about to depart and consequently I look away. She then moves closer to me so I get to see her ass again. Funny how that "happens", these Unfavorable moments get reprised, often in close sequence (e.g. the grocery store stalkers who have an unerring habit of crossing my path in such predictable sequences- outside, inside near the windows, at the back of the store, perhaps a few more aisles, even the freezer cases, then at the checkout and then outside again).

Then onto getting a tan at the salon, after some back and forth appointment games, the attendant phoning me to say that she gave me the wrong time for the next customer. Don't ask me how one does that, but stranger things have "happened".

I set the alarm for 0630h, and got screwed into a 0830h get-up time. Which meant the assholes fucked me out of attending the Okanagan Prostate Support Group meeting, the third such instance in succession since I attended my first meeting in October.  Get this, the assholes give me prostate cancer and time it for the summer when there are no meetings (a two month planned hiatus), and then they finally allow me to attend an initial meeting in October. I planned to attend the next meeting in November they pull a Saturday work day, my only one of the 8 week winery gig. Then in December another gig ran late, and we worked Saturday. And then today's jerkaround. What fucking purpose does this serve? Having the victim attend one public meeting and then screwing them out of the next three in succession, all for a disease they gave the victim in the first place.

And what is it about obstructing me in creating and sending job resumes that is so important to the perps? One out of three I am batting tonight. A Monster managed HR site managed to lock me out over creating an "account", and then when I wanted to reset the password it would not take it. Then to contact someone, it sent me to the same page. Like, we did contingent infinite loops 20 years ago, where one fuckup (unknowingly made by the victim) then feeds into a loop that one cannot escape (error contingency). Bravo Monster; another resume submission thwarted. An alternative was to submit via Linked In, another sore spot due to perp fuckery, and lo, if that particular option didn't disappear when the job page was re-visited.

Depending on how you count it, I might be batting one out of four on job submissions; a colleague was to send me a job posting a week ago and didn't. Fine, and not the first time promised emails haven't arrived. I get a text message to say that he has sent it, and lo, if it didn't arrive. So what is it about job postings and applications that has to be obstructed all the time? I don't get it; they can obstruct me all they want and I would never know it, as sending an email could be easily intercepted without my knowledge. So why put me through this obvious fuckery?

Then onto a more home-grown/local vineyard job resume fuck up. This time, two jobs were sent by an email notice and no contact information for either of them.

Saturday, and laundry day today. The usual grimace from the co-owner woman, the chatty husband was his usual self. All to keep me wandering around with my change in my hand to hold me up from starting my loads. Later, strategic blocking by "customers" of my usual dryer, so I used a different one that squeaked like hell, and so got out and went home. When back, why, more strategic blocking, this time of the dryer I used. How anyone could approach me from 10' away, stop at 5' in a narrow aisle situation and not notice me (or anyone) and stand there dumbstruck (or more like it, faux dumbstruck) is beyond me. I have never encountered so many stupid assholes who pretend to inadvertently block egress until all this shit rained down on me since 04-2002.

Sunday, and I got screwed into a 11 hour sleep, getting up at 1000h. Talk about punching a hole in my day, but we have done this before. And all the more in winter for some reason; they just love to lay on these extended sleeps. Not that my dreams were any pleasant either, and normally I don't remember them. Even if they have been more vivid since I started taking melatonin since 09-2016. The exception was last night (in dream) when for some reason they had someone fly out of their concert seat some 60' away, and the concert hall was populated, though no one was playing. This would violate their usual code of not having anyone witnessing their extra-conventional games, be it violating gravity or teleportation. I can assure you that I have never seen such an egregious variance of what the perps permit me to see, and it is all the more curious that it would show up in my dreams. As mentioned many times, I have come to know that dreams can be accessed by the perps at will, and they will plant whatever they want me to see. For what purpose, I have no idea.

Back to being amateur electrician again today, though it was more of a home modification job. It was putting up 20' of track in three segments, a T shape, the top of the T sitting 15" parallel to a wall, and the middle segment feeding it from 8' away from a what was as central living room light. This particular light had pathetic light output, and the two 6' segments along the wall now with four spot lamps provide this here desk with some much needed illumination. I must say, it all looks grand, now with adequate illumination over my work area, and added floods that fill the living room. All in LED lamps, and a decent 3000K color temperature. Well done, even if must thank the perps for that one.

The lighting project wasn't without infernal perp harassment though; they pulled screwdrivers from my hands once I was standing on the chair, twice over one screw even, and some major confusion over cutting the track to length. At least two screamings at them every five minutes or so. This was a 7 hour job. It could of been worse they like to tell me, and could of cognitively clobbered all the more. Forget about being allowed to do any jobs that require fine motor control assembly. They also pulled some faux electrocution games, where the wire end somehow tingled me (one finger), and they even did this when grabbing the unpowered track connector through two fingers on one hand. I tested the conductors at least twice to ensure that the power was off, and still the asshole applied these faux electrocution games. Perhaps they were reprising the sensation of being electrocuted through my fingers, in the above mentioned prior wiring job.

Anyhow, this is it for the week, and I will post this to close it off.

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