Sunday, February 05, 2017


NaCl is the chemical formulation for table salt, and also the title of this cute song by Kate and Anna McGarrigle. What I found so utterly strange is the words Kate uses to introduce the song, describing salt "based on a theory [now] gone out of fashion before they re-discovered what salt was". She took chemical engineering at McGill, though she didn't finish her degree, and this video was recorded in 1984, so what is it that she knew about chemical bonding that she would term the model of NaCl chemical bonding as "out of fashion"? I did high school and some university chemistry in the 1970's, and as far as I know, the song "NaCl" is absolutely spot on in describing electron shells and bonding etc. And as much as I know about current chemical molecular bonding, these concepts are still valid when referencing chemical electron behavior and affinity.

All of the above mentioned model of electron bonding/shells etc. applied until this past week, as I see Miles W Mathis rips contemporary understanding of chemical bonding (and particle physics) to pieces in his well thought out piece on NaCl. If true, and it seems it is solid theory coming from this mere curious dilettante/victim, then perhaps Kate McGarrigle knew about this theory or something much like it, since she first wrote the song by 1978 (on Pronto Monto, its release date). Which begs the question, do those in show biz get extra tuition in understanding the universe? Speculation for sure, and I don't know the answer. There are so many song lyrics out there that refer to strange things and events, and it does make me wonder what is it about popular music that gets the attention of the CIA and other spook groups such that they need to manage it to such refined detail.

Such music content management oversight isn't new; in Brice Taylor's incendiary book, "Thanks for the Memories" on presidential level sex slaves and mind control research, she describes her interactions with Neil Diamond, and at one point one of the spooks says to her, "he is doing good work for us". And what kind of work would that be?

Onto less speculative topics; yoga class last night; instead of blondes on either side of me I got dudes, one each side, a first to be sure. Both were there in the lobby and hung back until I got myself situated in the practice room, and lo, one comes in and sets up beside me when he had half the room available. Total bullshit- I should of moved. Then came the fat dude, sporting disgusting tattoos for me to see coming in on the other side of my mat. At least he knew a little yoga, unlike that fat sweating guy of nearly two years ago, another one who obviously set up beside me more than once.

The yoga class room was about half full from last week's over packed show, and no young pretty things immediately in front of me. Two young pretty things were one mat length away though, just not in my immediate proximity like last week. So what is it about alternately babe-stalking me in one class, and then a week later (same Monday night class), dude stalking me? I don't know, but this pattern of babe-then-dude stalking is so consistent I have nearly given up its reportage. One gets a dopamine rush from seeing somebody (or thing) attractive, so it would seem they want alternate dopamine reaction results in the same place (I was seated in the same location again) one week apart and in conjunction with all those yogic spinal flexings. And dopamine is a huge component of the harassment, aka, nonconsensual human research agenda. Try taking stimulant medications as prescribed for ADD to promote dopamine release and you will find yourself illegally incarcerated and given dopamine blocking atagonist medications. I know, from personal experience.

I am to start work today, this being 0600h. After weeks of getting up at 0900h with 9+ hours sleep, they kept me tossing and turning all night. And too, they started up sensations in my hip area and this got me cranked that they began metastasizing my prostate cancer. And I am to start my new job today. Great timing assholes. I could of got this done over the past three weeks of doing squat; there is nothing like disrupting victims at the most inconvenient hour.

Back from a day of vineyard pruning; plenty cold it was, never getting above 0C. The morning was about -8C until the sun came around. For once I wasn't the slowest pruner on the crew, only four of us including the crew boss.

And what is it about all these aches and pains emanating from my hip region? Feels like metasized cancer to me, but I am no expert. My appointment for the "burn" people, aka irradiative X-rays, is Feb. 22 which I had to phone today to find out from this Carib twit, who had an appointment booked for me but didn't tell me. Then I find out I have a accelerated gum recession. I must look that one up.

Parcel games again; I checked on a 11 day old tracking number (call it  Parcel A), and found that it had artfully been delivered at 0730h, but no one was home. Bullshit; my landlady was there, and I was outside at 0740h, and I didn't see anyone, though they could of just scooted away before I arrived. I looked for a delivery notice at the landlady's front door and post box, but nothing there. Next I texted my landlady and asked if she received anything, and she supplied a notice, and put it on my door. (After faking me out saying she put it on my door and it wasn't there, but was the next morning). I picked up the parcel (Parcel B) at a different courier than I expected, and as it turned out, it was not the one I was expecting. So what is the point of creating all this parcel delivery confusion and delay? It is just totally senseless, and it wasn't over yet.... read below.

A near full day of vineyard work, pruning work. Now my fourth year of pruning, and for once I wasn't made into a fumbling wreck and cutting the wrong cane. We have a counting system to chose the correct number of buds to leave on the vine. I won't bore you with the viticultural arcana. One crew member is longer term employee, a New Zealand woman, me and the crew boss. Not a big crew for 30 acres, but there might be some more hires. It seems so strange to have so few pruning staff for this size of vineyard, though I am told there is to me a crew size of six eventually.

I took paw-paw last night and my symptoms for whatever is causing me aches in my abdominal region is 80% better. Doesn't sound good....

The parcel was a docking station to deal with the games of having access to my music files directly from the player deck instead of this here computer. The new hard drive docking station is an alternative to the NAS solution as it was too sabotaged. Plus the NAS storage manufacturer had the unerring inconvenient upgrade of dropping FLAC file support within two months of purchasing this overpriced Linux box. Thanks a bunch. (FLAC is the format for all my music, some 225Gb worth). Even those recalcitrant laggards, the automobile audio equipment crowd, have finally started to support FLAC files, but Synology didn't. Plus, I could never get the OS to update itself via the internet, and even three months of having it at the repair shop didn't help. Ergo... a docking station with two connections; eSATA for the PC, and USB for the player, both plugged in at the same time. But alas, it was too easy.

And plug and play it wasn't. More like screaming at MS for two hours to get the thing working, which I finally did via the USB port to the PC with the aid of a command line application I found online. But I wanted the eSATA port, and once tried, it wasn't visible. After an online chat with a support person for the docking station manufacturer, he had the brilliant (to me) idea of plugging into another computer. This "happens" to be my spare, owing to last year's hijinx over getting this PC fixed and the intolerable delays, and lo, once plugged into the eSATA connector, it showed up. So, the eSATA ports are not available for some reason on this main PC, so another repair job. It is never, ever simple. Two eSATA ports are virtually gone, just not registering. The BIOS settings are too arcane for me to blunder around in, and so, just to get a freaking docking station to plug in means another PC repair job. (Unless he messed with it last time for some reason).

And when is MS ever going to get it that these devices need to be plug and play? They still haven't figured it out and Apple has been eating their shirt on usability for over a decade now. If it weren't for Tag Scanner and Exact Audio Copy I would ditch the MS platform. Open Office has rendered the MS monopoly on the desktop as history. As a robust server, Linux has been beating MS' ass for a long time. So sad to see that MS just doesn't get it. But after 20 years of dealing with their desktop OS, there is just no love from this corner.

Only two hours of tossing and turning last night, instead of all night like the night before. Sweet of them wasn't it?

All that contention over the above docking station install attempt, plus getting totally blanked, meant that I missed my reserved seat at a local club to see Ben Waters. Am I even more pissed than ever or what? The ticket cost me $60, and he is such a great talent, and comes all the way from the UK to play here in little Penticton, pop. 35k. Mind you, there is surely some perp connection to all of this, but what it is exactly is unknown of course, getting back to the aforementioned topic of music and all its CIA connections.

And what is it about responding to email that is so important to the perps that they persistently block me? I have made a dozen attempts on clicking on the Reply button in Yahoo and nothing happens. I even right clicked and selected "Reply to Sender", and nothing happened. Every so often they pull this shit, and I have no reason why. This blatant stunt follows another where they put this same email in my Trash folder, but at least they allowed me to retrieve it from there, all to start the Reply blocking stunt. This being an email from the club that hosted the above mentioned show that I missed. It seems they still want to drag my ass through this one, and that being their own doing. Fucking bizarre.

All my emails cannot be responded to I now see; the most fundamental task one can do in email is not available to me.

All day pruning in the vineyard today; and 3" of snow came down this morning. Skaha Lake suddenly got iced over in the night; it was a water surface for the prior two days, and lo, today it was 80% iced over, with the snow on it. Amazing things happen in the night.

The perps were up to their health hacking games today; they made me feel nauseous before lunch, and then after. Good timing that, and it has nothing to do with my food intake. Even more interesting, whatever it is.

All that time spent on pruning vines, especially today, has given the perps plenty of opportunity to pummel me with notions of making my will, who would receive what, and all the particulars, (as much as I know them) as to how to "tidy up my affairs" in the vernacular. Doctor assisted suicide is now law here in Canada, though lame born; I will have to look into it.

And I see that my PSA score is up to 7.93, from 4.3 three months earlier. I can thank the naturopath for going off paw-paw for that. Now I am back on it for the last two days and I feel better. Though I appreciate I am riding a tiger on this one.

Saw the walk in clinic doctor; no traction on what ails me and no testing available for metastasized cancer. "Let me know if you need anything else", he says as a rejoinder. It doesn't sound good if I also inject the malevolent perp agenda from that statement. The latest planted perception is that my notions of demise are greatly exaggerated. We shall see.

And what is it about sending me back to the Post Office for no (seeming) need? The parcel was picked up Wednesday, and now Saturday, the landlady gives me the delivery notice that I asked about, but she did not apparently have. (She gave me the notice for another parcel from a courier). I assume this is the parcel that I picked up Friday, my L-glutamine being the predominant item. Which means they send me back to the PO just to make sure I don't have anything there, and it isn't more parcel/notice confusion.

Back in 2008-11 they pulled this shit with a slightly different twist; the PO sent me a second notice after I picked the parcel up. Which again, entailed that I go there just to make sure there wasn't another parcel for some unknown reason. (Unknown parcels have arrived in the past). And one can be sure if I didn't go to the PO, they would send me another notice just to keep seeding the FUD. And what is the point of it?

I finally relented and began my "water purification drops" (aka MMS 1) therapy, something I didn't want to try. And you know, I feel a whole lot better. The trick will be to keep this up, taking two drops every hour with water. And the advanced protocol for cancer, MMS2, is so hard to find, even if it is a garden variety pool chemical. I wanted to buy it in capsules already made up, but it seems it has been neutered from the public interweb. More and more, I am coming to conclude that health care is a controlled and contained mass experimentation project, and healing hasn't much to do with anything. Premature ending of the experiment is not allowed. There is a whole lot more I could say on the topic of MMS 1, MMS 2 and Jim Humble's work, but I will leave it to just this link.

Got hammered for a three hour nap attack this afternoon while everyone else was watching the Super Bowl game. I had 7.5 hours sleep overnight, so there was no sleep deficit issue. Another hole punched in my day, and I personally resent this invasive shit. The perps like it when I am clueless about big sports events (I don't know who is playing at 1745h PST), and it seems all the better to add on concurrent nap attack. Onto finding out about the Bowl game.

Enough for one week, and we shall see what the next one brings in terms of personal health. Needless to say, having been exposed to (not spoofed) on the likely fake deaths of show biz and leading celebrities, (John Lennon, Sharon Tate and company, JFK (86pp, the film Bubba-Hotep supplies an interesting speculative corollary of the hiding-in-plain sight notion) Karen Carpenter, Steve Jobs (not sure), O. J. Simpson victims, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and many others that you can find here on the parent page, I am deeply pondering just what mortality really is. As I have learned so many times on this epic and abusive journey, nothing is what it seems, not even the long running technical science, per NaCl, above.

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