Thursday, July 13, 2017

Meet the Oncologist

Actually, I met him before, but I had a whole lot of more questions to ask. He seems personable and reasonable, though I have come to distrust doctors significantly more since this insane abuse began. In fact, my vexations with doctors was already considerable after four in succession blew me off over not having ADD. I got a SPECT scan which said exactly as I told them; ADD-Inattentive subtype. Hard to believe that one could find such a serial and seamless array of ineptitude per random chance. (one was even a recommendation of an ADD group). And considering I wasn't well, it is even more of an outrage they fanned on any diagnosis. Then I am well for 2.5 years on stimulant medication (read, dopamine agonist). Then they arrange a barrage of insane proportions in my apartment (04-2002) to then herd me to hospital at gun point for no seeming reason. Then they take my medications away and feed me ones (doctor prescribed) that make me worse, (read dopamine antagonists). The minute I got out I dropped their medications and felt better right away. To repeat my oft asked question; what is it about my dopamine state that is so important to an insane nonconsensual human experimentation project such that they relentlessly abuse me for 15 years from the shadows?

Of course, no stimulant medications were allowed since then. And now, I have prostate cancer, and lo, if low dopamine isn't implicated based on my research. Thanks a bunch assholes. Then the fuckers block my recent attempts to get back on dopamine agonist medications. The referral "happened" to get lost by fax, and it took 3 months to get it resent. And maybe the referral doctor will turn out to be a big nothing and jerk my ass around. So... my aversion to doctors, and doubt of their clinical competence (or true intentions) is from experience. God knows what they did to me in the recall blanked years, aged 2 to 5.

Back to the oncologist; a one hour drive to Kelowna, and I had my landlord somehow end up driving in front of me for the first 3 km. I set off, stopped to fill the tank, in front of an extra array of backed up traffic, then set off and lo, he "happens" to end up in front of me with his red truck. Eventually he turns off, and lo, if the motorcycle escort crowd doesn't then materialize, and I get rotating motorcycle stalking for at least a quarter of the trip in both directions. And extra red colored vehicle stalking.

A cute receptionist at the cancer clinic left her post at the central desk to deliver me an Ipad to answer a visit questionnaire. Then another, shorter and more slight framed cutie (nurse) came to collect me and take me to the exam room to then ask me more questions. Her hair seemed to be a distraction, per mind fuck games. It was swept to the back of her head with a "spike" or "spray" of it projecting out high to one side. That relieved the visual severity of her hair being swept back only, usually in a bun. For some reason, the perps love to present various female hair style variations, and also have men's hair emulate them. I have no knowledge of why they do this, save their constant and abiding female-male comparison games they so like to play. And even configure the odd stalker who is momentarily mistaken for the wrong gender. Hilarious; and its only been 15 years of this stupid shit.

Last day at the vineyard with the Difficult Dick, he starting up his senseless back and forthing again today, being quiescent after his ridiculous stunt of last week. Onto my new vineyard employer next week, so to leave Difficult Dick behind, though I suspect he will surface somewhere, perhaps on his motorcycle that he told me about.

And there is a strong drift of having motorcycle stalking of late; HD's parked on the street in every direction now (five) for days, and escorts when in traffic. Before all this crap came down, I would never see motorcycles parked on the street in residential areas, as it would be bait for them to get stolen at some point. I am told that a certain motorcycle group owns an HD dealership, and if they aren't reviewing their sales records to find them, they deploy scouts to note where they are parked. All the normal precautions of motorcycle ownership seem to have gone out the window to serve the greater gangstalking need. I have yet to figure out why the perps do this, but they are very consistent once the weather gets better.

We moved to three different varieties of grape in the course of vineyard tucking today; such is always of interest to the perps, changing locations and varieties. Though for the last two years at my former employer, the varieties would change in the same row (no location change). And of course they would screw me around by having me not notice at first.

Changing voice in the same book has always been a fascination for the perps; co-authors writing different chapters as one example. Another is from the non-fiction work, My Secret Sister, about twin sisters who were separated at birth, one adopted out, the other staying with her birth mother. Each wrote different sections, with one of them being much abused by her step father, while her mother was of no assistance. And to complete the list, I just finished reading Gone Girl, a novel by Gillian Flynn, each chapter alternating in the voice of one of the two protagonists. And so what is it about books of multiple authors that the perps so like me read? Of course, the last mentioned book is the same author, but in different voices.

Halfway through July, and a day off to attend to errands. After last night's screw up of going to the part time vineyard and finding the owner did the rest of the work, why, another screw up today with another part time employer. (To be full time beginning tomorrow). She didn't tell me which vineyard, so I assumed it was the one I was working at for the past four weeks. Not as it turned out, so one hour later and multiple texts, it was the other one. More FUD-ery it would seem.

The driving was crazy in town today with arranged traffic trains of 20 or more; and with one oncoming dick running a late yellow, and me just about to make a left turn, why, some fucking idiot runs the just-red at speed and I just about clobbered him. I have never seen something so stupid, save the near head-on collision the assholes organized back in about 2013. (Another was a lane change into my lane by the Fuckwit beside me, another one of those "I don't know how there wasn't a collision" stunts in 2010 or so.) This was when I was transiting from the vineyard to the Ford dealership to get extra keys made up.

The assholes had me "forget" and had me lock my keys in my vehicle last night. Normally they would let me know right away so to stress me out for longer and while in the store. Thankfully my landlady was in, and retrieved the spare set in my place and brought them to me. And thankfully I had my phone with me.

Then two calls from the hair salon an hour before my appointment, one about a change of stylist, another for a person not at my phone number, looking for Tricia. And while getting my legs waxed, I get a call, then a message, from the salon, for Tricia (again), who didn't show for an appointment. I was looking at the very person who was making the call, as the curtain "happened" to be open. And then looking at my cell phone while getting waxed. Good trick that. Just more FUD games as I see it.

Sunday, and starting at a new vineyard full time after getting fed up at the last one with the Difficult Dick seeming to round on me for no particular reason. And a small pay raise into the deal. I suppose this was all part of the plan, having me work with a crew of six, and now down to one or perhaps three in total. Right now, I am working on my own.

Anyhow, I shall get this posted for the week.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Seven am Starts

Independence Day, not unlike the Canada of July 01. As mentioned in the last posting I don't see much room for independence, as would any other TI.

We began this week with a 0700h start time in the vineyard, to avoid the heat of the afternoon. It helped some; it was to be 32C today, but never felt warmer than 30C by the time work finished.

It seems we will be losing two of the vineyard crew by the end of the week; a long planned departure of the NZ woman, and another guy is going to work for Value Village. That would leave four, and we are well behind on this arduous manual tucking. (Tucking the vines between the top pair of wires in this case.) Many vineyards have a simple means of getting the wires out of the way and then bringing them up at the right time to tuck (or keep) the shoots in a vertical position. But pushing them in by hand is for the birds as far as I'm concerned. Once, at an established vineyard, our crew of 10 tucked 30 acres over the day. I doubt if the six of us tucked an acre by manual means. There has to be a better way.

There was a better way to tuck the vines; what we did before. If one drops the top wire to the ground (after pulling the tendrils off, no mean feat), then puts the wire back on the post, one can tuck 20' at once, no individual handling of shoots. Except that my tucking partner, the Difficult Dick, didn't want to cooperate and our efficiency was much reduced. Still better than manual tucking thankfully, but it could of been a whole lot better. I never did see the crew boss all day today, and I don't think the others did either. As usual, the Difficult Dick did his backing and forthing, fussing and obsessing about getting every shoot just right, which is absurd for a small crew for 22 acres. Anyhow, it got good and hot, 32C, in the afternoon, and I was doing fine.

Then in the evening I worked for two hours at a part time gig, same place as last night when doing hedging.

A birthday to remember; Difficult Dick didn't want to cooperate, even if he wanted to work "together", even if he plainly said that the trellis wire method was much more efficient yesterday. He wanted to hand tuck the whole thing. Fine, I said, I will work your side when I am done mine, which is what I did, doing 3/4 of all the row tucking. That, or something else pissed him off and he spoke to the boss man who then drove around and told me to "cooperate" with Difficult Dick. I said we were getting tucking done 30 minutes faster using the wire raising method, the one the vineyard was designed for. He said to "cooperate".

When working up the row, I asked Difficult Dick what he minded about my tucking, but he wouldn't say. Then I asked him what he told the boss man, and he said, "he wanted to know where you were and I told him". Right; the boss man drives around to give me explicit instruction all on his own. Difficult Dick then said I should work alone, and I said we should surely each work with someone else.

Later, the adjacent crew told me the conversation between Difficult Dick and the boss man went on for much longer. On the way back at lunch break, I mentioned this to him, and then he got very pissy, and fessed up that I "was rushing down the row". Not that I was, and there were many, many shoots to pull above the wire. It is just that wire tucking is a whole lot more efficient. Apparently the boss man spoke with him at lunch. And lo, when with my new crew mate for the afternoon, there is Difficult Dick in the next row doing the wire tucking method, the very thing that he complained about to the boss (about me). I had to laugh, and bite my lip, and refrain from asking if he was "rushing". Oh so tiresome, working with a Passive-Agressive liar, grump, sandbag, tattle-tail (who got it wrong) and generally uncommunicative asshole. Anyhow, I decided that I didn't want to tip toe around this landmine of a passive aggressive grump for the next two months, so I quietly began inquiries about working elsewhere.

The perps kept me up last night with five rounds of painful leg cramps jus to rub in the above hassle of the day.

Two part time jobs today; smokey all day; a way of reducing the sunlight exposure and keeping the heat up during the day time.

I "forgot" my vitamins the the morning of the weekend's second day, which forced me home, as I felt an energy suck-down.

Then I was pummeled with planted notions of winning the lottery, because "some one in BC won recently" was on the radio. I had bought a ticket a week ago, but no, I did not win, and all those fantasized plans came to a big nothing. Are they really going to let a victim of abuse and relentless harassment have some freedom by having some cash on hand? No way, but they kept inserting ML imagery to help me spend it, or otherwise control the circumstances. How about leaving me all alone?

Another day of tucking. What was to be 36C today of unrelenting sunshine turned out to be a good part cloudy, with a spot of rain, and some 30C. I stayed out of Difficult Dick's way, and he out of mine. All day I was kept in a mode of processing yesterday's bullshit, even though I had long consigned it to him being an obdurate asshole. The unanswered question remains, "what was that all about?" That was the fourth run-in with Difficult Dick, and that is on the basis of avoiding him since I began the gig in 02-2017, based on prior information from last year. In all likelihood, this whole tempest in a teapot was set up then.

Busy working three jobs of late, soon to be two. The part time weekend vineyard wants me full time so I can now leave the Difficult Dick behind. The boss man didn't seem too perturbed about a week's notice when he is already down two workers, both leaving for other jobs. Nor did my planted scheming to tell him about the cumulative travails of Difficult Dick arise. I kept it straight, cool and innocuous. And of course he didn't ask why I was leaving, an obvious omission of genuine interest.

Anyhow, I best post this before I get any further behind.

And I see "local dimming" has come on for the past three days. Hot weather, but limited sun because of the forest fire situation in these here parts, some 240 of them concurrently. Nothing too local, though an near-completed apartment complex burned down in Kelowna. A small fire there, and bigger fires elsewhere. The perps love a good fire, and the more the merrier. Two years ago they pulled this shit for a week or two in the summer.

Sunday, July 02, 2017

Power Failure

A power failure after putting all the soup ingredients together in a pot on the stove. Maybe the soup was on for a minute or two, but it was not mixed up yet, nor blended which is what I usually do to get a puree type of soup. Why the Psychopaths needed to pull a power failure at this juncture I don't know, but they do love to mess with me when mixing foods. So perhaps this was an extended "hold" before it all went in the blender and got truly mixed. But also, the perps have a bizarre need to name-drop "soup" all the time, so maybe this was more of their silly games over this particular subject.

For some 30 min. it all sat there while I read about extra-terrestrial contact between the US Navy and the Nordics, as well as the competing alliance between the Reptilians and the USAF, CIA etc. Apparently, the FBI also aligns with the Nordics. It is well documented in the book "The US Navy's Secret Space Program and Nordic Extraterrestrial Alliance" by Michael Salla. He of Exopolitics, who expect/hope that the US government will publicly declare the existence of these associations. Dream on; its been nothing but subterfuge and deceit for a very long time, so why would it change? Even President Trump is touted as a breaker of this log jam, though I doubt it very much. He looks so very Reptilian himself, even as keeper of the governmental gong show that is unfolding of late. Didn't someone tell him that the Russians are aligned with the Nordics?

Back to Dullsville; tucking in the vineyard today, and it was forecast to be a all-day sunny day, but lo, if a rain storm didn't come down the valley at about 1400h, and send us running from the bottom of the vineyard uphill, to our vehicles to close their windows. Then to don a rain coat as the rain kept up, and then it got cooler later in the afternoon. And run I couldn't; just no gas, so I suppose my ferritin is down again after it got boosted with an IV in 09-2016.

And I see that someone entered my place in my absence today, and moved the slider on the switch for the overhead lights that I installed in 01-2017. Or else there was some other peculiar and unconventional method they used. This follows from three days ago when someone entered my vehicle, searched through the glove box, door pockets and other stowage nooks, seemingly to be looking for something valuable. Almost unbelievably, they overlooked the ashtray-like stowage at the base of the center console and missed some $5 in coins I keep there. Are the perps really that obvious, or do they send in an utter bozo in their place? Don't know, don't care, just leave me and my vehicle the fuck alone.

Friday, and it was warm, about 30C in the vineyard. All day tucking shoots into the trellis wires. The arrangement was that I worked with the NZ woman for two hours, then the Difficult Dick, and then the NZ woman in the afternoon with the Difficult Dick hovering around in behind me. Why he didn't go to the other end of the row and work with his uncommunicative co-worker is beyond me. So yet again, this alternating arrangement for me to work with a woman, then a man, and then the same woman again. Haven't we done these same games at the checkout so many countless times? They are putting on more males at cashiers of late, a break in the long standing practice of female only.

One worker left for the long weekend yesterday, and another had to take the afternoon off to move his belongings. Just two pairs working the tucking today. But at least I had someone to talk to in the form of the NZ woman. The Difficult Dick can have his terse moods at times.

Canada is 150 years old today, though I don't feel like celebrating knowing that it is a police state in disguise given my experiences. All that started a little over 15 years ago, in Seattle USA, but the Canadians are also full measure in keeping up this relentless abuse and gangstalking. I was driven into hospital at gunpoint, force given drugs that depleted my dopamine and made me substantially worse, and kept there for 5 fucking months. Meanwhile, the operatives, in the guise of patients, were stalking my ass around every corner and especially at the elevator and at meal times. And if you think I had any direct part in it, think again, or else read my Essential Introductory Postings for a primer (one page version) on what it is like to be kept as a nonconsensual human experimentation victim. Yes, one's world turns upside down when doctors are criminals and the police violate the law on behalf of the Psychopathic Confederacy. Slowly one begins to see patterns and suspects that so very much more in the world seems orchestrated and arranged. Anyhow, it is all a bummer story, and I will leave it at that.

A work get-together in the evening at the vineyard, for tasting room staff to meet the vineyard staff, and the owners were there too. The owners are people of significant influence; they have had a premier and a prime minister come by. Two of the tasting room staff didn't introduce themselves so I have no idea what their names are, both young, female and cute coincidentally. Only three of us vineyard grunts showed up; two are coupled and SO's weren't invited and one is away for the long weekend. The crew boss man came for a while, as did the tractor driver. One by one these folks left the party, and I remained the only vineyard person with the tasting room staff and the owners. Then a SO woman came with horrendous tattoos on her L arm, and lo, if she didn't sit down at my table with her L arm facing me. We chatted for a while, and the owner came too and joined the conversation. All was well and amiable.

At one point in the party, the owner (male) made a 25 minute presentation on the history of property and his intentions as to what he is attempting to achieve in winemaking. All the while these blackish maser dots and patterns floated around his head or else dropped between me and him. It was getting very distracting, trying to look at him and these blackish dots and wispy filamentous trails were around him. No doubt everyone else saw them too, but didn't say anything of course. This guy is a serious high achiever and a very personable one, so why he became my "maser mate" I have no idea. I am attracted to high achievers and movers and shakers, but only ethical ones, and he has my utmost respect, if not admiration. Whether this fits some perp experimental progression, I have no idea. Interestingly, my employers of the last two years were also high achievers, also ethical ones, but were rather impersonable. Don't ask me how all this fits the perp plan, but it is interesting the perps love me to meet business owners, building landlords etc.

In all of the banter of the party, it was clear there were a few planned topics; cancer and prostate cancer (which I have, but wasn't revealed to anyone there so theoretically they don't know I have it), some friends who have died recently etc. The meal was pizza, and lo, if I didn't "forget" that I should not be eating cheese on my current medication, and lo, if I didn't "forget" that I avoid gluten based foods, i.e. the pizza crust. All went well and I did nothing to distinguish myself and was the perfect guest as far as I know.

And lo, if I didn't wake up clogged and fogged and very sinus congested. Only after a half hour of waking time was I allowed to associate my condition with last night's pizza dinner. I have the experience to figure this out right away, but all my normal faculties are so messed with that my new normal is plain abnormal.

I worked this Sunday at the weekend job site all by myself, as it is a post-Canada Day "recovery" day. It was hot out, and I am still tired this evening. I am still getting bombarded with notions of going to LL for proton beam therapy, despite the fact that I don't have anything like the needed funds, some $86k. Why I get stiffed with undoable notions for 10 months, all related to making such a trip and getting such treatment I have no idea, but pummeling me with planted thoughts is nothing new.

Anyhow, time to post this for the inter-web and call it a night.