Sunday, January 28, 2018

Monday Night Show

Normally I go to yoga on Monday nights. But owing to an imposed brain fart, I didn't book an earlier reservation for the Good Lovelies for Tuesday. Or more accurately, there were seats available, so I attempted to book them, but it seems the system was set up only to sell a pair. Hence I had to book a single seat for Monday.

Yesterday, after I ordered some music of Allison Crowe from CDBaby, only to find it was in execrable MP3 files, I got a refund as I wanted FLAC files. But they don't have FLAC files any more, so good bye CDBaby, and hello Band Camp. Done; I don't do MP3 files, ever.

And what is the significance of these events; why, purchasing (always a perp Fuckover event, a financial transaction) anything. And maybe it will be from an artist I have seen Dec. 15, (Allison Crowe), where I did not purchase any CD's because I have all the ones they were selling at the concert, to tonight, where I saw the artist, (The Good Lovelies), AND purchased a CD there and then. As to what the significance is for the perps, I don't know. Not only do I not understand their constitutional consumption with every financial transaction I make, I don't understand why they must arrange the timing of music purchases. Arranged such that on the same evening, I purchase digital files from an artist I saw 5 weeks ago, and then later purchase a CD from an artist I saw that very night. As to what this timing, and latency is all about I don't know. But it just seems most strange in this highly orchestrated world I am contained in.

And today, at least 100 planted notions that they are going to cease hostilities sometime soon, April 15 they suggest, which would be the start of 16 years of this intense and insane and relentless abuse. But as I mentioned in the last posting, they must have a BS theme going on all the time, and this is it. And besides, what would the significance of the 16th year anniversary; why not 18 or 20? Just more of the BS theme, and as I recall from some years ago, they pulled this same build up of the same theme with the same timing. Ergo, hostilities will not cease, especially when they are after such esoteric nonsense as above, i.e., timing music purchases.

The Good Lovelies put on a good show last night; I was parked at a single table next to the sound guy, and 6' from one end of the stage. It was this same wretched table that I had two shows ago, and this particular waitress banged into me 4x and didn't apologize once. I had the same waitress again, and this time she didn't bang into me once. Go figure. She was almost taciturn and surly as the last time, unsmiling and unfriendly. She of the big exposed chest with tattoos on it. Attractive latina looks, but with an oversized ass she pointed at me many times from 2' away at my last visit when she (oddly; it wasn't in her territory) attended to the table beside me. Tonight she had on a long sweater-like garment to cover her ass, a common technique I have come to know; for some reason they like to turn off the visibility of oversized asses of otherwise attractive women. Usually this "happens" on a later visitation after I have determined their initial attractiveness. This same waitress finally looked at me once tonight, for the first time in two club visits. And why do they put her on me; is it the grim unsmiling look, no eye contact, the tattoos (which I loathe), the oversized ass or what? My guess it is the tattoos, though as always, there are multiple planted themes in place at any given event, especially repeat stalkers. This would be the third time I have have encountered her but I found the next door waitress got my attention more as she actually smiled and seemed to be engaged with the customers.

At the show last night, I was 6' from the stage with one singer that close; the others lined abreast and so I flitted my attention from one to the other. They are each very attractive, though I found the one in the center to be exceptionally attractive, possibly instigated by her angular jawline and fantastic slim figure. In the past I have got stared at by performers; they seem to know where I am (even if the likely cannot see me that well as they have the house lights trained on them) and round on me for some reason. By moving my gaze frequently, I avoided this potential strange stare situation tonight.

And for some reason on a work day, I woke up at 0730h, instead of the planned 0600h. For "some reason" the alarm wasn't set, and I awoke about the time my commute sharing coworker was to arrive.  Ergo, no breakfast, no shower, no shaving. During the day of vineyard work I felt mildly nauseous all day, and the helicopters were overhead in abundance, perhaps 12 passes on the day. Additionally, the assholes shit me, and I just managed to make it to the toilet when I got back to my residence. Later in the evening I was not feeling well and had to lie down for an hour. My hands felt cold the whole time even if placed against my neck the whole time while lying down. Eventually I got up and made dinner and felt better. I see my body temperature is down at 36.2C, so who knows what is going on.

There is some suggested notion that the tapa-sized pizza I had last night at the show "caused" these problems, though I doubt it. Interesting that all this was planned when they woke me up late, so no breakfast, and no shaving, a constant harassment theme of theirs.

Vineyard work, cutting vines for collection for propagation material all day today. And adding to the noise games there were plenty of loud mufflered vehicles, often timed to the event of me finishing a row of vines and turning around. (Or else they erupt after lunch, while it is digesting). Again, the anisotropy (different properties in different directions) of space, or more to the point, the energy field in space, seems to be such a big deal for the perps.

At one row end, neighbor to the vineyard came home to then swear loudly at something or somebody. He was still outside, and at first I thought he was swearing at his dog for making a mess, but then when he said "you are drunk" it had to someone. I haven't quite heard so much swearing and so little articulation of complaint. I did not hear a reply from the house so perhaps he was on the phone. Every so often I get one of these rows blowing up for me to overhear; sometimes at the grocery store, sometimes outside my apartment etc.

At 0730h the garbage truck came two hours early on the regular Friday, and I was alerted by him sounding his horn, as he couldn't negotiate the back lane corner. First of all, the driver was two hours early, and secondly, he had changed the route. This was following when one of my crew mates, a former co-worker and the guy I sometimes hang with, had parked in the lane and was inside as I was putting on my boots. As it turned out both our vehicles were in the way, and I got to meet the garbage truck driver, who came out of his cab to also ask me to park further down the lane on garbage days. The garbage truck was a L hand drive vehicle note, always a big deal for the perps who have somehow managed events to allow the import of L hand drive vehicles from Japan without conversion to R hand drive or North American crashworthy and safety standards.

Anyhow, another day of vineyard work, cutting vines and pulling them for later propagation. One crew member back from Nanaimo today, so three of us rode in my vehicle as it seemed I might need it during mid-day.

Another barely-there get up owing to some kind of snafu that I did not create. We were to work today, Saturday, just the two of us, but the boss man texted that he wants us to work Sunday. I had asked him to tell everyone on the crew as to who was to work where and when, and as an extra service, I texted my workmate to tell him about the new Sunday work date. As it "happened", he somehow didn't get the text or figure it out, and so he arrived this morning at 0730h, phoning to say he was at my gate. Like WTF; it was to be a sleep in day, but he arrived, somehow not getting the message that we were to work tomorrow, not today. Anyhow, I had to get dressed to let him in and we had tea for an hour or so just to chat and work out how the work instructions got messed up. For the second time this week, a no-shave, no-shower and no-breakfast interaction with a crew member. Woo hoo; this time honored perp trick of fucking me out of my normal morning routine spells one thing; they ain't going to give up anytime soon, and that would include their infernal mind fuck games of telling me that hostilities are going to cease soon. I don't believe it at all, and I am put through this BS theme about every two years or so, usually ahead of their anniversary of overt harassment onset. It will be 16 years of this relentless and senseless abuse-athon in April. 

And what is with this wretched Blogger/Blogspot editor? They have now taken the editor online it seems and in doing so ditched the position of the cursor. Like WTF; the most elementary text editor display function has now being bowdlerized in the name of putting this here tool online, not that I needed that functionality anyhow.

Not a whole lot to do today, but what a pain in the ass for the little there was. At the laundromat the assistant was stalking my ass big time, swooping in just as I was walking by to follow my ass, in the characteristic stalker mode of looking sideways while doing this. And then there was this ever-talking dude who just had to yap the whole time, as well as stalk my ass or obstruct my egress. He and another male Fuckwit pulled a pinch play on me while I was passing through, both coordinating by some unseen command to converge on me as I was passing by one of them. One backed up, and the other came at me. Like WTF; we have done this same shit show for countless times, usually with dude Fuckwits, and I am sick fed up of it.

Next at the big box store I had to get an electrical switch as the installed one won't now work. Again, there were Fuckwits in "just standing there" mode posted at the entrance who somehow got the word to then move and follow just as I passed them. Then another Fuckwit with an oversized gut just hung around at the aisle end some 15' away doing the pretend shopping with the signature bend-overs while I got dithered in finding basic light switches. Then a grim woman cashier who didn't even look at me, always looking ahead for some reason. And after all that, for a 5 minute visitation at best, they wouldn't let me exit, but held me up when a 3 y.o. Asian child was leaning on the closed glass sliding doors while an unobservant (har, har) parent stood 2' away. Presumably this was a set up, the classic faux inadvertent stunt. I had to wait and stand some 6' from the door lest the sensor picked me up and opened the door and sent the child flying. This allowed the Fuckwit customer at the next cashier packing cardboard boxes on his shoulder to then catch up and closely follow me out once the child moved from the door, possibly following my hand waving direction to direct her away from the door. And what is it about building egress, specifically passing through doorways, that so interests the perps that they need to put on this "child in potential peril" stunt? I don't know, but they have been nothing but consistent about it since the day of infamy, when they first went berserk/overt in 04-2002. And you thought that "greeters" were just a customer friendly exercise all this time.

Later, I installed the light switch, doing my bit of house wiring work, as it seems the perps have a need for me to do this as I have mentioned many times in past blog postings.

A Sunday, and the friend/former co-worker and I returned the vineyard and worked on the vines for two hours, and the boss man came out and helped out for a time. Then we went to his farm and put the bundles of canes into apple bins in preparation for shipping. Lots of pallet jacking to move the bins, and for some reason the perps liked to get my co-workers over top of where I had been working on a bin.

Anyhow, enough boring detail for the week, and time to get this posted.

Sunday, January 21, 2018

Latest Long Term BS Theme

The continuing BS theme of the last four weeks isn't going away, and seems to be telepathically injected at least 60x/day, usually very subtly and in small memes. The BS theme, and the perps seem to need me to be subject to one, is that this whole harassment and abuse regimen will be lifted sometime this year. But of course, they have a long record of delivering these themes, and nothing happens. Or like last year's blatant BS stunt.

The prominent BS theme last year, going back into late 2016 in fact, was that I would get my prostate cancer treatment at a proton beam facility at LL. Well, as I found out by way of phone call in 06-2017, it was at least $85k. No way do I have that kind of cash, never mind 8 weeks of expenses away from my residence while I am kept as a vineyard laborer. As I said to myself all the while, the notion of proton beam therapy was untenable and undoable, and was certain that I would be doing my daily radiotherapy treatment at the Kelowna cancer clinic, which came to be. Sometime in 09-2017 they backed off on the proton beam BS theme, and the treatments started later 10-2017 for six weeks. So what was that all about, apart from yet another futility exercise, which I knew to be the case from the outset. The short answer is I don't know why the perps engage in senseless long term (over 2 months) planted BS themes, but needless to say, it isn't me that indulges in futility thinking.

I notice my daughter is sending more emails, and for once, taking an interest in the whole prostate cancer issue, so one has to be curious about these sudden behavior changes in this controlled and orchestrated situation that I find myself in. This from her who never sent one note or phone call of interest, never mind empathy, until treatment was queued up about 07-2017. (And to further rub the point home, the day that I found out that I had prostate cancer from the doctor "happened" to be her birthday in 06-2016, the day I was bound to phone her anyhow. It seems someone wanted to save a call, or more like, reduce the possibility of any empathy from the outset). Well done assholes.

I have been meaning to see a real psychic for at least two years now, but as so often, the more efficacious actions are curiously delayed, very unlike me. The healer guy of last week's posting got vague on me and for some reason I didn't pin him down. Funny how psychics get away with vague-isms so often.

Another cancer stunt came to fruition this morning. The boss man called off the job today because of the weather, and so I went to the doctor to get an Rx renewed, and ask about this lesion that never seems to heal on my forehead. She gets out the special light, and declares it to be basal cell sarcoma. And so a referral to a specialist to have it excised. Great. Though this spot has been around for 8 years, and it has got bigger in the last year, maybe 7mm across.

And in keeping with the prostate cancer diagnosis of 06-2016, per above, when they were all over my ass after the diagnosis including overhead helicopters, they were gangstalking my ass for the three stops I made after today's doctor's visit. The first was LD for my Rx with the E. Indian (brown skinned) pharmacy tech. And then onto chocolate, for which I paid the price at the checkout due to extended fuckery by the customer in front. Which meant the fat fucker behind me got way too close, leading with his gut. Then a walk by came too close as well, just as I was standing apart from the fat fucker. Talk about a stake out.

The second stake out was the tanning salon, and they not only had me covered with the dudes sitting around for no seeming reason, the woman who runs the show yet again, somehow "forgot" to set the timer, so I had to get dressed with the cream on me, and wander out to the front desk to get her to turn it on. Perhaps I should walk out with nothing on and fix that problem for good. Needless to say, two more gangstalkers were there at the desk too. She gave me a diversionary deflecting question, not bothering to say sorry this time. This lady does not make these mistakes, and is the third fucking time she has pulled this shit. One of the tanning salon gangstalkers was the dude who runs the 10 bay car wash across the street, just sitting there. As I get up to go to the tanning room he is staring at me so I stared right back at him, and so he diverted his gaze. Which raises the point, what was he doing there anyhow as he has a full time job running the show across the street with all the things that go wrong. I know, because that is where I take my vehicle to get washed,and he is always putzing around my bay when I am there. Or else the change machine fucks up, and I need to find him. And even more disconcerting to me is that I never forget a face, and "somehow" I did, and did not recognize this Fuckwit and his ridiculous  bob-job of reddish hair (not exactly a tanning type) until I got home. That is very unlike me, and I'm utterly pissed my visual recall is being fucked with again.

I don't particular care for President Trump, especially when he wants to kill NAFTA and I am not even sure he knows how to spell it. Then he let the CIA rumble him by not releasing the full set of JFK records according to law, some 30k documents for what is officially a single assassin, har, har. But I will stand with him on his latest declarations on "shithole countries". He has got it exactly right, and these are the immigrants the western world does not need.  The African aid experts will say that 50 of 54 countries are not worth donating to because of corruption, violence and other security issues. Since colonialism is long over, guess what, the excuses are over as well and they are doing this all by themselves. Its their own behavior, individually and collectively, and one only has to read "Detroit, an American Autopsy" for more confirmation. Or take Haiti; now free for over 200 years because the slaves led the only fully successful revolt, also aided by the declarations of the French Revolution at the time. Anyhow, reams can be written, but I see that the happy-clappy liberal delusionals are now calling Pres. Trump a racist when it has got nothing to do with the facts. That has to be the last resort of a scoundrel, playing the race card. Too bad the media keep fomenting this, rather than offering any objective analysis and calling the BS as it is.

A day in the vineyard, and four new workers today, and I am the only "regular". The guys that are known to me from three years ago are all on other full time jobs, now that vineyard pruning has begun in earnest. I have no idea what the rotation of co-workers is all about, but is a consistent theme in this ongoing orchestration.

A job interview this morning for a full time vineyard technician gig. The two interviewer guys seemed like good folks to work with, but I came away with the distinct impression it was a big softball pitch. Asking questions as to why one applied/has interest, goals, what does one bring to the job etc. did not happen at all. In fact, very few questions about my experience or resume, which given the job, there should of been something more substantive. Those pre-smirk looks (the look of the eyes just before one smirks) didn't provide any confidence that this was serious either. So what was that all about? Either a pair of laid back interviewers or a big nothing. I suppose I shall find out in a few weeks, yes or no.

Evening time; and more password fuckery; CDBaby and Paypal forced more password changes, at least the 5 and 6th over the last month. (Plus one at the bank for my card). There is always some excuse; in the former it was that I hadn't used their service in a while, and the latter, it was the fact that I moved locations. Any excuse will do I suppose, but I cannot keep them straight any more, and the perps just love that to then exploit for yet more downstream fuckery, usually when I don't have my paper list with me. Joy of joys, I will have this one hanging over my head for the next year, all to repeat this again when I visit Victoria again.

Another day in the vineyard, this being a Saturday. In fact, we moved from one to the other when the work was finished. The new crew isn't the same as the former familiar hands, the "closet red necks" with whom I exchange ready banter. I even gave a ride to one of them, and didn't get much of a register of who he was, where he is headed etc., even if he seemed to be an articulate person.

More of the telepathic notions of a cessation of hostilities; at least 30 per day, maybe more. After 47 years of hounding my ass surreptitiously, and 15.5 years of overt abuse and harassment down to even being unable to flip a switch or turn a page predictably, I cannot believe that they would suddenly desist. And too, the romantic moments with ML are constantly planted in mind, always in the context appropriate format theme they have created. That is, if I am standing, so is she, ditto for other postures, and in black and white. Tiresome, all of it, and an abiding consideration.

Barely enough for a posting, but I shall keep this on a weekly basis.

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Meet the Healer

An errand outing with my perp abetting mother again, putting on the power ditz act again. Again, it was timed for mid day for maximum vehicular gangstalking surges.

Said outing was also dogged with smell stalking, (aka smell jam) this time arranging the pong of cooked onion stink 3x. Twice in parking lot locations that were not anywhere near an eatery, or other possible source. Then, the power ditz cooks up onions when we get home. One more week of this.....

One of the errands was a lighting store, a trip for a bulb to pre-empt the need for a particular bulb. This was the second time that the cooked onion smell came on; I checked my footwear (the usual trick), but nothing there, and nothing on the vehicle floor. Another lighting store visit, this one for no seeming great cause, and was the third of four such visits as it came to be. Exactly what the perps are so fussed about as to lighting I have no idea, but is a constant theme.

Then a SOF supermarket visit; what a choreographed cluster fuck....Even my perp abetting mother's neighbors "happened" to arrive at the end of the adjacent aisle to the milk section, and all forced by a "forget" to cause me to go back, and once returned to the area, why this shit show. Milk was one item to get, and lo the stocking/stalking card dude was working on just that particular kind/size. It was set down for all of 5 seconds by the stalking cart dude, also adding to this cluster fuck. I though they loaded these from the back of the shelf, so why this shit show in the customer area?

Then while at the First Feral House this "need" came on to look at videos of The Carnival of Rio de Janeiro for hours on end. Later they wouldn't let me sleep nearly all night. Too much video stimulation again it would seem. I had no idea as to the, ahem, clothing standards of some of the dancers, never having been down that way, or even S. of the equator.

The babbling biddy show again, akin to Christmas dinner; my mother and her Greek friend this time at a bar that served food. The usual close in of the stalkers again, though nothing too affrontive. This same Greek lady was compelled to show me her lighting in her house, after doing some recent installations. It all worked, and was in no need of repair, so what was the deal. More lighting exposure games again.

Continuing and inexplicable interest in the Rio de Janeiro carnival show, getting my soft porn fix, hopefully for the year...

Tonight, a fever to go with my cold.

At least I got a decent night's sleep, even if woken up to go pee at 0150h. No more fever or feeling flu-ish, but still with the symptoms of a cold.

My perp abetting mother burned a defrosting muffin in the microwave sending smoke all over the kitchen. It took 30 minutes to clear it out with the doors and windows open and kitchen fan on. It wouldn't be the first time; when I first arrived two weeks ago there was soot over the kitchen blind, up the wall and on the ceiling. Once I pointed it out to her, she attempted to clean it up and could only get the vertical surfaces. But she didn't see the sooty droplets of cleaning water hanging from the box coving, so I had to clean that up too along with the underside of the coving. I thought her burning up something stunts were over with, but no, she pulled this one which had the additional benefit of giving a snort of burnt food each time I passed by the adjacent door to the microwave. Well done, from the assholes who harass the shit out of me each time I pass through a door to the outside.

My mother claimed she put the muffin on defrost but must of mis-keyed the number, and lo, it got extremely overdone. As to why she doesn't use the microwave defrost cycle I have no idea, though I suspect that it is too complicated of a construct for her.

The healer; while driving from Victoria to Penticton, I stopped in a cafe in a town named Hope, the head of the flat plain of the Fraser River, and before one climbs the mountain passes. Time to refuel, and time to eat.

I met up with this 87 y.o. bearded fellow there, and he started telling me he was a healer. Not that I was looking for one, but apparently that he can relieve pain, even fibromyalgia, by touch. Interesting enough, and then he told me that he really doesn't do it for money, as he has worked various trades in his life. When I asked which, he told me he had 12 tickets, from crane operator, carpenter etc. Not to mention his un-ticketed jobs, such as driving taxi in the Yukon. In this situation, he put his healing skills to use by relieving the pain for a woman giving birth in his cab!

And if that weren't enough, this healer guy could see auras. So I asked him if I had one, and he said yes. Then I got onto magnetic fields, and he said he could see them too. I maintain, based on other TI's reporting a white glow around themselves that only a camera can detect, so I asked the healer if my aura was significantly different than the others, but I didn't get a clear reply. Ditto for the magnetic field, which if visible, should be very pronounced, as I have measured up to 1800 gauss around me, 3600x normal.

Then as it "happened" the healer guy could foretell futures, so I gave him a little background on my harassment scenario, assuming he didn't know, and asked him what it is that the harassors want. He told me that I know something that they don't know, to which I challenged him, and said I don't know anything, especially when they know how to teleport objects. The harassors know substantially more about me and their objectives than I can fathom, as it should be clear from any blog posting. The healer guy backed off on this one, and so I asked him what my future is with this abuser crowd, and when will they be done. He replied that I should be wary about some one in a grey hoodie, and that I will hear something soon. When I asked him how soon, he said three months. He also prognosticated a safe trip on the mountain passes, and he was correct as it turned out. Another thing he told me is that they make mistakes, to which I pushed back that was unlikely given my experience. He came back and said that they do make mistakes, and that they are going to make a big one with respect to me. I didn't need to hear that, as if the perps have exquisite fine level control, down to thoughts and intentions, then any mistake will have huge repercussions in my experience. It just doesn't sound good.

(Though, the perps have long told me that they have made a major mistake, as they have allowed me to ingest/inhale aerosol plastics which are embedded too deep for them to either extract or else predict their quantum effects. As always, anything from them is highly circumspect).

So as I saw it, he was evasive enough that told me he didn't want to give anything away, including my question as to auras. As regular readers will know, I regard any interaction with others as orchestrated, though reasons will vary from the perp perspective. I am totally contained, and kept in an orchestrated script, so I have to wonder about this healer guy. Maybe he is passing on the perps's word, or maybe the perps have transmitted this to him in some psychic way. So... the take away from this is that I must beware of someone in a grey hoodie (not aliens, as I questioned him on this), and that the perps are going to make a big mistake, and that I am to know more about what is going on to me. Not exactly a set of firm guidelines to act from, but what does one expect from a psychic?

A herd of deer on the in mid-road when setting off to the bank today, about 8 of them. I stopped as there was a woman with a leashed dog coming the other way, and I didn't want to inadvertently herd the deer toward her. The deer didn't move much for me when I finally did pass them by, one about 3' away from the vehicle. But they did start to follow the woman and her dog after I passed by.

Then at the bank, my debit card needed replacement, and finally after two machines failed to do a PIN verification, I ended up at a third wicket, beside the business teller, where the woman customer returned after I had waited in the queue. This was the woman who was telling the teller about her woes with her daughter who kept spending money. As to why getting a new bankcard is such a gong show, I have no idea.

The perps have been on a password screw-over game for the last few weeks, exploiting the fact that I "forgot" to take my password list with me when I traveled to Victoria, and then sensing my temporary location, the email and other servers pestered me for passwords which I "happened" to forget. Hopefully that is the end of that bullshit now that I am back in my regular digs in Penticton.

Then onto getting my legs waxed, and ended up in conversation with the lady who supervises the students. I had two of them, each staying on the same side, rather than following the same leg as in the past.

A day of helping on the bottling line today; this would be at a winery for whom I am working in the vineyard in a month's time. What made it interesting is that the snow was coming down the entire time, outside the mobile bottling truck. I reckon there was 4" over the day, not a startling amount. Interesting that my past bottling experience was in the summer time with plenty of heat. That was two and three years ago; last season I got dropped from the bottling crew as they had plenty of us vineyard crew, and the woman from the tasting room wanted to join, so I got dropped. As to what these on-off tasks do for the perps I have no idea, but I suppose it helped them I was only 100m from the bottling operation last year.

Same deal as before when bottling; the line slows up when doing pallet changes (a new supply of bottles), or something else goes wrong at that juncture. I even got help, so to speak, from others when cutting off the plastic wrap on the new pallet load. I suppose they need to emulate my use of my knife and cutting the plastic, for what all the energetic benefit the perps may get from it.

One of the workers was named Monica, perhaps a namesake game fitting with the ML games that I have referred to from time to time, and that I rarely get into, as it seems so bizarre. Last year they put on a Robin, same name as my daughter. I suppose inevitably there will some name commonality with those I know (or relentless hear about), but in this contained world, nothing is a coincidence.

I keep getting the drift that this harassment show is going to be done sometime this year,  the above mentioned healer planting the seed. I get at least 30 such mental notions planted in mind a day of late, some sneaking in without me noticing at first. All I can say to that is that I highly doubt it; the perps are relentless as they are psychopathically abusive, and after 15 years of this, I don't believe it for a minute. Every time they launch into these planted notions, it turns out that I am correct. They went on about getting proton beam treatment in late 2016 and kept it up to 09-2017 just before my (nearby) local radiotherapy treatment. Not that the deal is over, as subsequent tests are needed. But the whole LL proton beam treatment notion was totally ludicrous as it was very expensive and totally unaffordable. One even isn't allowed their own notions of feasibility in this TI world I am kept in.

A half day of bottling, this time with two new crew members. I was on the same task of unloading the bottles from their case onto the production line. Same deal as before; when there is a pallet load change of new bottles, the line slows up and/or someone is buzzing about. Ditto for the plastic wrap that needs to be taken off at that juncture. Today the speed was turned up, but that wasn't a big deal, save the smooth aluminum platform as it was slippery, like the day before. Thankfully, no upsets or slips that could of dropped me 4' to the ground. Some waffle plate would of solved the problem, but as it must take a half million dollars of equipment to set up these mobile bottling trailers, who am I to kvetch? 

The second day of vineyard work, a fill-in job until the regular employer starts until mid-February.  Yesterday, the boss man sent me to the wrong vineyard some 2 miles further away to start. After 10 minutes of waiting, a text communication from him indicated that he sent me to the wrong vineyard. I cannot count the number of times this stunt gets pulled on me by so many; when working with others, they arrive late, or vice versa, or the wrong location "happens". And no one says shit, not even an apology. I get it; it is pre-arranged for whatever reason to delay my start time with the remainder of the crew working away for 20 minutes before I arrive.

Anyhow; time I got this posted for the week.

Tuesday, January 09, 2018

2017 In Review

Nothing like a review of the year to remind one that the harassment hasn't let up. I remain fed up with getting stared at all the time, like I am some kind of feared entity when do nothing wrong, don't threaten anyone in any way (or have any threatening thoughts), and generally keep my head down. Something I have done all my life in fact, as it seemed that there wasn't something normal about others' reactions so often. I could never figure it out until the harassment came on in 04-2002, and it slowly dawned over me for the next year. After that, and for many other reasons, it seems that I have a figurative target on my back, and so it goes. Another year in fucking hell, and no let up in sight.

The beginning of a new year always brings on extra harassment and other games for some reason. A visit to SOF supermarket brought on the serious gangstalking, even before I got parked. A Chinese woman in peculiar mismatched red and orange combination (and I do loathe this color combination) was walking through the parking stall I intended to pull into. I have experienced that stunt so many times, the Dashed Expections number, that is becoming routine. Even with a 4 long list, the assholes posted stalkers at every aisle location I needed to get an item. At least three stalker made three passes each. And it didn't help with the profusion of stocking/stalking carts either; now they use a 6' long version that blocks more shopping shelf access and pile more brown cardboard boxes on. Well done.

There was the usual profusion of Fuckwits at the aisle ends, along with the stocking/stalking staff members in on this act too. Then when at the greens section, why, the wretched parking lot stalking Chinese woman was loitering over the kale, exactly where I needed to go. (She should of been long gone). Here she was walking away from SOF in the parking lot, and lo, she is now inside and posted exactly where I needed to go. Screw that again, so I went elsewhere in the store, and in the process of yet more gangstalking confusion, I got memory wiped and didn't get back there. The notion that I got screwed with a forced "forget" only occurred when I was at the self check out. I finished up, went outside and put the groceries in the car and went back into SOF. This time they put a male Chinese Fuckwit over top the kale, the only item I needed to get on this return visit. I reached around this asshole, bagged it, and went to the checkout, this time a manned one, as one "happened" to be open. All that for that; two checkout trips in one shopping trip (differing checkout methods (financial transactions note)), and an Asian Fuckwit posted over the kale in both instances.

I suppose the biggest event was getting 6 weeks of M-F radiotherapy treatment for the prostate cancer that was discovered in 2016. That entailed a 160km trip each time to the Kelowna cancer clinic, which seemed to be armed with the latest conformal beam gamma ray treatment. I gained about 10lb, "normal" for that treatment apparently, which tells me that it was in the least, a dopamine depleting exercise. Years ago, during the 2003 tyranny of enforced medical treatment that stopped my successful dopaminergic stimulant treatment, the misguided (or more likely, directed) criminal shrink, gave me dopamine blocking agents which popped my weight up by 25lb. For me, that is evidence enough; fuck with my dopamine (or anyone's) and watch my weight go up because it regulates adioposity (fat deposition). Call the 2017 radiotherapy a localized, (prostate targeted in fact) dopamine depletion exercise, in keeping with their long standing fuckery over interfering with medical treatment for this essential hormone. And it is a hormone as I came to discover in 2016, not just a neurotransmitter.

After planting notions that I could get prostate treatment at a proton beam facility for the prior year, which would of cost over $115k, the perps finally relented from this ridiculous stunt once the provincial health care treatments began 10-2017. Thank god that long running absurdity is over, abetted in part because I was told it would be $50k. (not that aI have that kind of coin either). All that misinformation, web reading on cancer, along with the 20 books worth, is now over.

Dopamine Deficiency Treatment Obstruction
Based on my research, dopamine is a hormone with widespread effects, and I wanted to get going on dealing with this situation. A local shrink was recommended. By the time the first referral went out, (and mysteriously didn't get through), and I finished with the fucker, it took 10 months. Here I had a SPECT scan, a dopamine urine test (low) going in, and I thought I had it all nailed down. But no, in keeping with shrinks being constitutionally obstructive and utterly stupid, if not downright malevolent (Dr. Amen excepted), this Fuckwit made the most of the harassment episode, and blew it up into a "dopamine excess" diagnosis for crissakes. That he didn't bother to phone or get the records from the past shrink who indicated that I was harassed, as did his predecessor, didn't go unnoticed. Nor did he ask one question as to an ADD diagnosis. That I was infuriated with this Clinical Fuckwit is an understatement. A despicable asshole, and no doubt directed to look like a total idiot in clinical capacity. Call it a whack-mole stunt.

Since then, and while watching PBS these past few weeks at the First Feral Family house, I see that Dr Amen is promoting his research on pre-emptive action to avoid later age dementia or Alzhiemers. He cleverly wraps it up as "Memory Rescue", but what do you think he is really talking about? Dopamine deficiency the main, and like most hormones, its production decreases by some 1%/year after age 40. One of his statements was "deal with ADD" and keep your neuro-hormones at normal, so here we go again, though I don't have a specific plan at this juncture. But as shrinks are largely crazy in my experience, or bloody minded about knowingly doing the wrong thing, (now at 7/9 plus two neutrals in my experience), one can expect that I shall have to up the game somehow.

The deplorable mental state of shrinks was confirmed by one of my 2017 readings by Dr. John Hall in his fine book Guinea Pigs, that integrates the TI experience with the medical nonconsensual human experimentation imperative, who states that in the first week of medical school one can determine who the future shrinks are as they are strange. And that they stay strange through medical school. I told the oncologist this and he laughed for a good while. And BTW, do follow Dr. John Hall's advice, and avoid shrinks like the plague if you are a TI.

Two teeth, adjacent ones, had to be extracted from my R upper side in 2017. It wasn't a big deal, though it now makes a for complete chewing to be hassle as food drops into the void and then needs to be transferred to my L side to get masticated. Both had a post in them, which is now thought to exert too much force on the tooth and causes it to weaken. Meanwhile, the oldest root canal, without a post, continues onward. Many of the alt-cancer treatments insist on getting rid of all root canal teeth, so I suppose someone did this for me, (or to me more like), except that they have one to go.

Team Work to Sole Work
I go to work with a regular crew of folks for the first time in 15 years in 2017; the kind of regular ones that one can talk to, and not the high rotation of laborers in the bulb picking days of 2008-2010. This was doing vineyard work, as my prior four years of vineyard work had been on my own, save with one helper of the prior year. There was one longer term employee I named Difficult Dick who needlessly got on my ass four times, the last time he was damn near deranged, as last detailed in this blog posting. The time before, he was totally irrational, and roundly unpleasant about it. So I moved onto another vineyard where I had been doing part time work anyhow, and while I had two co-workers, with whom I got along fine, I was back to sole work. No big deal, no one bothers me and the boss man is a decent guy and the owners know their vititculture. So it would seem that the perps are still working on their need to keep me isolated at work while testing the waters with working with a regular crew. And it has taken 15 years to get this far; fucking absurd, and do we ever have a long way to go.

Brown Color Games- Vehicle Use
I suppose the assholes and their long running interest in the color brown and my interaction with it has reached a new level. To wit, as of 01-2017 I now drive my perp abetting mother's Ford Escape, a light brown (not tan) metallic body finish and an interior of medium brown. Not that it was a sudden transition; the mid grey Camry that I owned took an inexplicable 3 months to sell, even with new tires, and a set of winter tires as well. Then the Ford Escape had power steering repair problems within the month of selling the Camry. So I needed a few trips in my boss' vehicle to get to work until the protracted repair was done. Well done assholes, and this long running stunt of vehicle color use, and of course, the color of the seats still has a long way to go IMHO.

They weren't done then though, as the Ford Escape clutch began to fail, for the second time at 115k km, so I had to rent a vehicle for two days of my trips to Kelowna for radiotherapy while was being repaired.

It hasn't gone unnoticed that there are a profusion of Ford Escape gangstalking vehicles in my proximity, and the Camry frequency remains abnormally high.

Planted ML Imagery
Something that I don't get into much here on this blog, as it is so tedious, and is a theme rife with planted imagery that doesn't convey well in the written word. In the last two months the perps have been heavy on planting an visual image of this woman in mind. And no less, it is context specific; if I am standing up, the planted image is too, next to me and leaning in, romantic like. Ditto if I am sitting or lying down. And in black and white for some reason. Anyhow, I won't go into a whole lot of detail, as this this about putting this down for the record.
So there you have it; 2017 was another Fuckouver year at the hands of the Psychopathic Confederacy, like so many of TI's out there, and they are still a long way from getting their objectives attained in my estimation. The frenetic gangstalking games while in Victoria (per above), as mentioned above should tell you that.

Monday, January 01, 2018

A Power Ditz Christmas

My perp-abetting mother has been putting on the power ditz since I arrived here at the First Feral Family house Dec. 14. But no more so than last night when a near equally aged friend came over, a very talkative one, so it was the two of them talking past each other, my mother doing 80% of the word mangling as well.

And I suppose it was no fluke that one brother was in Thailand, and the other didn't come down from Kamloops, (going off schedule for the first time) just so it was just me to witness, aka, hear, this low content word barrage going back and forth at Christmas dinner. As I saw it, it was another exercise to isolate the TI victim; no one to talk to that has something substantive to say or else, in the case of the word mangling, no intelligible content at all. Add in the indirect referencing that seems to be more prevalent than last year, i.e. "thing", "over there", "it", 'they" etc. and one wonders why they have put me through this again for another year. Perhaps they want me to notice that my mother is getting worse. Well fine, she is 92, so what does one expect even without the underlying mind control imperative.

Add in my mother's colossal inadequacy over running a Windows PC, and it would seem that the perps really like to have me riled up while attempting to help her at the First Feral Family house. I have never seen someone so impervious to learning in all my life, having been stiffed with training her on PC's for over 20 years now. Naturally (har, har) it develops from the event that she attempts to get it done by herself, and I come by and find her klutzing around and then rescue her from herself. The latest was over the community garbage pick up schedule, something I printed out last year for her, so I got a new set printed out. The fact that two different local governments are responsible, one for organics and refuse, the other for recycling newspapers, plastics etc. doesn't make it any easier, along with differing methods of accessing and printing the schedule to make it all the more fraught. Or in the case of my mother, doubly impenetrable.

Later she dodders downstairs, then goes onto watch TV, and I find that only one of the garbage schedules is on the fridge, not the other. I ask where it is, and I get some babble-rationale that makes no sense. It isn't there or anywhere to be found. And owing to her hearing problems, exacerbated by not wearing her hearing aids all the time, I am not  getting through. Ergo, I go online and print another. Perp mission accomplished; fuck the victim into doing (or being part of) the exercise all over again. No better excuse than to have some prevaricating and doddering elder who is hard on hearing and recall. Not to mention, a lifetime perp abettor who sold her first born into this total 24x7 nightmare.

Another "feature" of hanging here at the First Feral Family house is exposure to TV, which my perp-abetting mother watches in great quantity from 1700h to 2300h every evening. Not having a TV at my own residence, this is  my annual 3-4 week exposure to this particular medium in all its manipulative excess. Not to mention a long running exposure to the freaks and Fuckwits of the Unfavored crowd; excess exposure to negroes on TV hasn't gone unnoticed, nor have wheelchairs, cripples, large gutted males, skinheads and the rest of the Unfavored parade, noted in a static posting at the right. (And they even put on a live negro "happening" to be walking by yesterday when I "happened" to be at the kitchen counter).

And on TV too, laying on the syrupy extra sentimentality of the do-gooders who get extra mention at this time of year, especially if it has a multiculture angle. And too, the BBC News in keeping with their self serving agenda of all things politically correct, has a seeming transgender news reader. Keep the ridiculousness flying all over the Empire, and never look back to see if you have one remaining behind you. And I see the Queen jumped into this ridiculously gushy fray, by praising the rescue workers of the Manchester bombing in 2017. Why not vilify and condemn the misguided islamic zealots who set the bombs off, and tell them if they don't like it in the UK, to get themselves back to where they came from, stateless or not. No your highness, keep a stiff upper lip and pretend the country is doing just fine. I am beginning to conclude that the UK is becoming a "doormat culture"; just walk all over us with your unlawful actions and we won't have the police (or other LEO's) do anything about it; see Rotherham inquiry ,or here still being disingenuous with the term "Asians".

I notice my mother sits on the couch, and not her regular comfy chair when I watch Forensic Files, that grim slice of reality of depraved criminal behavior on TV. Its all about the evidence and the facts, much more to my taste, and free from the happy-clappy agenda games that besmirches commercial TV.

Some more leaf raking and the "usual" eruptions of road traffic or walkers outside in suburbia, especially if I change locations in the front yard. A few days ago there were high altitude jet aircraft, three for the afternoon, reminiscent of the frequent SAC aircraft but there was overhead cloud so I could not be sure. Unusually, no helicopter coverage while doing this long running task at the First Feral Family property; in past years I have had at least 3 per afternoon on average, plus multiple single engine aircraft buzzings.

My daughter is flying in for a 20 hour visit, having won free ticket ticket from work. This would be from Vancouver to Victoria, a 20 minute flight at best. No matter if it is from the small aircraft S terminal, it was still an hour late. So, an hour waiting at Arrivals, with the freak show parading around me. For the record, we had the LEO's (aka airport  security) parading back and forth, a turban, countless male gut struts, the dude next to me on arm extensions (wing flapping I call it), big hats, wheelchairs and a few other. Woohoo, haven't we done  his so many times before?

 Another occasion for my perp-abetting mother to put on the power ditzing, this time in the vehicle. Another classic perp setup; driving across town to get these infernal cheese biscuits my mother has been going on about since I got here 12-15-2017. Finally I get them at a certain big box store, and thankfully she stays in the vehicle.The usual parade of  Fuckwits on me in the store; the woman who stands in the doorway just as the sliding doors opened, the litany of fuckwits at the aisle ends as I walked along them to find the correct aisle as I don't know the store too well, and another collection of  Fuckwits at the section where the infernal cheese biscuits were, as I had to go back and forth due to strategically placed shopping carts and gangstalkers who blocked my view at first. Then to get out of the place, first paying of course, and then I couldn't find the exit for crissakes, going the wrong way.

As it was 15 min. before we were to meet my daughter at her hair appointment, we decided to find the location and wait. Finding parking was intense, but we find a spot and then lo, it is perfect for endless headlights to come around the corner and cross into my visual  field. So I looked sideways to a  fence,  and within a few minutes they were firing headlights through the slats of the fence even if it was a residential  house on the other side. Then my mother wants to get a card at the dollar store nearby, so I go inside and get one, and lo, some Fuckwit blocks me on my way to the checkout, taking his time to get his shopping cart out of my way, and then proceeds to copy-cat me by going to the card section. Another Fuckwit is at the doorway when I exit, doing a faux mistake so he can go through the same door of the two wide door-set as I just exited. (As I see it, these are examples of before and after financial transaction stalking/stunts). Then my mother is going on about  how long the wait is, and given that my daughter didn't reply to the text, I phone. She then tells me it will be another 30 minutes for crissakes. She might of said something sooner but didn't, as we had an alternate location to visit if it weren't for the waiting contingency. Finally, my daughter comes by at 1535h, and we need to get her to the airport quick, as her flight is at 1700h. So all my mother got to see of her on this 20 hour visit is the time my daughter spent in the vehicle together on the way to the airport, some 40 minutes So...another containment exercise, this time in a parked vehicle for 45 min.with my perp abetting mother and her bat-shit wacko rantings about fuck all while the rain came down, reminiscent of a bad camping trip. Why is it the perps have sandbagged me such dip shits all my life, and I am including my ex of 25 years in all this as well? Exasperation inundation it would seem.


Another 10+ hour sleep sack today; a perfect way to punch a hole in someone's day to enforce later daytime functionality.

I am fresh from another power ditzing and gangstalking outing to the bank, PO, and then SOF supermarket with my perp abetting mother putting on the ditz like never before. At the bank, there was this Asian woman standing in the way outside the doors, and wasn't about to move despite my mother's mobility issues. So we walk around her to get through the first  set, and lo, a Fuckwit woman is posted on the outside of the second set attending to her purse. I pull the door open,  and then she looks up, making out that she wasn't  totally clueless, just outrageously  stupid to be standing there in a public doorway attending to her purse.By then, another Fuckwit has come in behind somehow, and then opens the door I was opening a little more with his arm brushing into my shoulder. With a four person clusterfuck going on inside of two door sets 4' apart, I bolted out of there and sat down at the customer waiting section and left my mother to her  own devices. She hasn't made it to  debit cards, and there for needs to withdraw cash each week or so.

Then more over obvious Asian Fuckwits, one male in particular, who kept loitering around me at the customer section, with some middle east and E. Indian (from India) ones too. Sure, there were the ATMs there, but why this dude needed to stand around, first on his cell phone, and then in the entrance way, and finally leaning up against the wall was beyond me. Can we say extra obvious gangstalking, this time at a financial institution? After my mother's banking she brought around her financial advisor for me to meet, an Asian woman. We shook hands, chatted for a few minutes, and then departed for the Post Office. The PO was a clusterfuck of a line up, so after more doddering and ditzing, my mother decided  to forgo the PO line up.

Then onto SOF supermarket; which again, turned out to be another gangstalking shit show. Early on I had two "sneak ups", where the Fuckwit arrives soundlessly behind me within a foot, and eventually reveals himself to then freak me out that someone unknown got so close without any warning. Both were tall males, about 6'3". another. It would seem another  Penticton habit has arrived here in Victoria, where "excuse me" seems to be suddenly forgotten. I think there had to be some 20 -30 cluster fuckings in the aisles with my doddering perp-abetting mother putting on the ditz extra thick for the 20 minutes in SOF, abetted by the constant swarm around us. The Asians, E. Indians and the Middle Easterners were in unusual profusion, and of note, the brown box bearing stocking (or stalking) staff. In addition, there were at least 20 gangstalking "intervenings", when the Fuckwits pass between my mother and me. Then my mother pulls some bullshit about coupons not being taken at the self-checkouts, so we go to the manned check out. As the cashier, it was a guy I had seen who ran a downtown coffee store in Victoria in the 1990's, where I got my  coffee beans, appropriately aged. The shop even roasted their own beans, so it was the real deal, long before the invasion of Starbucks in this part of  the world. Not that he recognized me, but I suppose when one is in a public counter job,one sees people all the time, and won't recall individuals. (Though, it would seem that I was controlled and managed all my life, he was surely in on the gig then. Or like now, maybe then, there was something obviously visual about me that I cannot detect,  but everyone else can, and they look at me strangely, if not scared shitless). Anyhow, this cashier guy of the former coffee shop visitation days was the first cashier EVER who asked me if my doddering and ditzing mother gave him the right change. What does one call this when there are two ditzes making a financial transaction? (I was counting and observing only). A transactional ditz-out, or a mutual cash counting impairment dysfunction? I don't know, and I do wonder if this cashier guy was a real one, or perhaps just a one time put on.

Getting out of SOF was another door way egress shit show. Two tall E. Indian young males were obviously loitering at the entrance which is beside the exit, separated  by a 5' long rail that separates them. (As in WTF; normal grocery shopping folk proceed straight through to the aisles). They were 6' inside the store, standing together, one obviously overweight and in these ridiculous sloppy shorts that are all the rage. Not exactly dressed for the pouring rain, but hey, I am long familiar with that incongruous visage nowadays, even at -10C. Then as my perp-abetting mother and I pass through the single exit door on the other side of the rail, why, these E. Indian Fuckwits proceed to follow me out and then split sideways once out of the building. An elderly male turbaned E. Indian "happened" to be coming at us 10' ahead, and then 20' behind him was an E. Indian woman in traditional dress. So what was this over-obvious E. Indian gangstalking shit show all about when exiting the supermarket all about? As I have long mentioned, any time there is a light change, say from inside buildings to outside, the perps put on extra stupid shit, and today, it seemed to have a brown skinned flavor, following the intense gangstalking inside while shopping of that same ethnic group. So I have one question for the perps; if you have one of my brothers married to an E. Indian (from India) why don't you gangstalk the utter piss out of him, or both of them, rather than spend 15 years of insane and relentless stalking of me with brown people? Or, screw the turbans, and make the brown people more stupid looking by having them walk out with a brown cardboard box, (about the most ubiquitous brown reference object there can be), on their head? (Arranging "stupid moments" is nothing new to the perps, and covers all races. I have had Caucasians walking around with flattened brown cardboard box material on their heads more than once). Not my problem; if I don't like the color brown (on anything), I don't see why hordes of brown people need to be swarmed around me, especially while at building egress moments. Though I did learn on the radio in 2017 when a neurologist was interviewed, that the perception of color is uniquely individual.

Not forgetting about two months ago, while at the SOF self-checkout in Penticton, (just completing a financial transaction, note) they put on a single file of five E. Indians filing through the self-checkout area who didn't seem to know where the entrance was, and didn't make any bones about it, save one, who gave me this foolish smile. No doubt the brown people gangstalking has a long way to go in light of today's ridiculous circus.

I see my perp-abetting mother is up to her "getting in the way games" again, adroitly placed just where I need to access a section of counter, drawer or cupboard just ahead of me needing to get there. And too, waving her hands in front of her face while talking to me, as in being extra demonstrative. It is another behavioral trait that suddenly erupted when all this abuse rained down in 04-2002. Ditto for her foot waving while seated; not only her on this account, but it too suddenly erupted among the gangstalking community as well as of that same date.

An afternoon of leaf raking and compost pile making. The leaves were on the section of lawn next to the street, and as in everytime I do this task at the First Feral Family house, there is a break out of activity. IN this normally quiet subdivision, the vehicles start appearihng, the walkers come out, as well as the cyclists. True to form as well, the neighbors opposite have a reason to head out in their vehicle. The aircraft also begin to pass overhead; even a contrail job, plus lower altitude single engine propeller aircraft. In all my five days of outside garden maitenance work, I finally got my first helicopter passing  overhead. I never see them here any other time.

Going back a few years, about 7, they even put on a US AWACS aircraft flying low and directly overhead when I happened to step outside. And there are no Canadian AWAC aircraft, and it has been the only time I have seen one in Canada.

Anyhow, a new year is  nigh, and I shall get this posted for the week.