Sunday, March 25, 2018

Tiresome Tie-downs

Somehow I cut my finger with the pruner blade (another forced fumble) just after they had been sharpened, and then they pulled a phlegm emitting cough, then pulled another bowel sensation, related to the post radio-therapy side effect issue now four months long. I find it fascinating they can script all these bodily sensations/events within a minute. This has happened in the past, again, phlegm related as it seems it can arrive in one's through without benefit of cold or any lung congestion sensation.

I then got a band-aid from my vehicle to then slow me up and the other guy caught up and then passed me when his row was shorter, so he went to the adjacent row, instead of us alternating rows. All these games over who starts what row, and the relative timing with respect to co-workers has been going on for over a decade of farm work now.

As for vineyard work and tying down; every year it is the same; this activity requiring lots of fine motor coordination gets dithered and fumbled to piss me off. In 2015 and 2016, the boss lady was a productivity maven and was on my ass both years as I wasn't fast enough. In fact it is the perp assholes who are misdirecting the tool, pulling my hand off the cane (and having it hit me in the face), moving the cane so it isn't held down, breaking the tie down wire etc., so of course it takes longer. I average about 4-6 mis-directed events per vine; sometimes the delay is minimal, sometimes longer, but it adds up when one is doing this all day long. No wonder no one gets a tying machine that would be faster, then there would be considerably less opportunity to harass the victim.

The vine on the right is pruned, but not tied down to the trellis wire, but the others are, except those of the yellowish color in the background which have not yet been pruned.

Tying down, not nearly beset with forced finger fumbling as yesterday. But instead, an increase of an extant problem; the bowel damage from last fall's radiotherapy is still a problem, and was made worse today. Am I ever fed up with pissing and poo-ing problems, something the perps have hammered me with since they first went berserk/overt in 04-2002, nearly 16 years ago. And of course, they exploit the side effects of the radiotherapy treatment, just as I predicted. Its just that it was four months ago and should be getting better. Had I a spare $85k USD sitting around, I would of got proton beam therapy and avoided this latest exacerbation of the ongoing shit show.

Can we have enough pit-lamping the victim when in his vehicle having lunch? Apparently not, as the assholes laid on two pickup trucks who offloaded insulation from a delivery truck that ferried the smaller loads to the house being built, 200m away on a muddy road. As if that wasn't obvious, one pickup was white, the other red, all in keeping with popular gangstalking vehicle color combinations. (And emulated by backup lights and brake lights on together). And to make it more obvious, one pick up truck had some items in it, and the driver placed them 6" from my parked vehicle while I was inside having lunch. One item being a ladder, an exceeding popular gangstalking accessory.

A rainy day today, on and off, and then it got serious at 1630h, just when we were about to finish up at 1700h. The boss man joined us, and we then finished tying down this block of vines. I did not have rain gear on, though a ski coat which is breaking up (somehow) held up for the most part. The driving rain of the last half hour ran through my pants, long johns, and into my boots. Well done; any earlier and I would of got my serious rain gear.

Some strange emanations are coming off this LCD display tonight, and last night. Back in 2005-2006 this was especially noticeable when I returned from a hike, usually 5 hours. They would just hammer my eyes with some kind of emanations off the LCD display to the point that I could not read it at times. Though this time, in keeping with the latest BS stream of ceasing hostilities "soon" (they say), they are winding me down, as in diminishing my level of being charged. I don't know of course, and couldn't give a shit, with the usual rejoinder of; leave me the fuck alone and everything will be just fine. Though with a lifetime of covert harassment, these assholes don't have a concept of that in the least. They keep using the word "soon" in all of this, and I keep telling them that "soon" means tomorrow to me, so quit using this ridiculous generality. After nearly 16 years of this intense abuse, aka, abuse-athon, another day of it is too much. So if they are telling me they are dialing down the irradiation (of whatever kind it is), it probably means they are really increasing it again, just like in the days of 2005-6 for increased rounds of whatever nonconsensual research they are doing. The increase in pit-lamping since early 2018 seems to support this. But as always, this is one big poker game, and the deception plan is as important as the real plan, even if I don't know the difference.

And onto the long game prediction; I see that the black colored ski jacket I purchased for winter time vineyard work is breaking up; that is, the seams are somehow wearing out and the whole thing is going to literally fall apart at the seams. So... after extensive looking at my usual sources and coming up with nothing, I go to a reputable manufacturer and find a suitable ski jacket on sale. And in three colors, and lo, if the all black version, my preferred color as the work scuzz won't show, isn't available in my size, but blue and black combination is. And lo, if it isn't the same blue as the solid color ski jacket I have for street wear. (Which was purchased for vineyard work, but I liked the color and realized that it would get scuzzed up). So it would seem they are preparing me for next year's vineyard work in the winter time by wearing a jacket that is the color combination of two of my former solid color ski jackets. All in keeping with their infernal and relentless games over which color of clothing I wear.

 This jet black ski jacket has the sleeves folded together to show the wear, (imposed wear IMHO) on the sleeve seams and cuffs. The fabric is worn through where it is light colored, yet nowhere else on the garment. Can we have enough ski jacket fuckery?

Can we not have enough interruption games in the morning. I am one minute into vineyard work when the boss man comes to chat about nothing much. I just get going again, with the headphones on, and my co-worker comes to work on the tying down, to then interrupt me again. So I wore my headphones at my neck, and chatted while we worked near each other as we were starting a new block. All in keeping with the perps' long running habit of interrupting me when I start a new clone or varietal block at every vineyard I have worked in the past 6 years. After a half hour of working and chatting with my co-worker, the assholes then grind me to need to take a shit, so off to the crapper I go. This is highly uncharacteristic for me to need to go then, especially of late with the 3x/evening games that have gone on since 01-2018. Two more pit lampings from traffic passing by on their way to the house construction, then I go to my vehicle after my crap to get Immodium, and lo, if there isn't the vineyard owner there putzing with the garbage cans she somehow "forgot" to attend to when she has been absolutely on top of it every time before, as the garbage cans are out when I get there every Friday morning. Then she decides to putz with the adjacent landscape plant and prunes the part that is passing through the fence. Does this intense victim coverage ever fucking end?

Sunday, and I did 6 hours of work on tie-downs in the vineyard. Only because it was nice weather, unlike two days ago when the snow was flying, and the day before that, when the rain came down sideways. A relatively calm day from the gangstalking coverage, though someone next door saw fit to pit lamp me as I was leaving and was momentarily held up when finding a vine that wasn't tied down, and then attending to it for all of a minute or less. The perps' timing is impeccably precise, every time. And if they go off time, say I speed up, they will dither my fingers to then slow me down again.

A calm day in the vineyard, but the vehicular gangstalking was on in streams of black vehicles, then white ones, then black ones. They were all over my ass two nights ago when I set off to the grocery store, so it seems that vehicular gangstalking is playing big. (And exposures to headlights are inevitable).

Last night when in bed they were keeping me awake and agitated (turning over and over) and I told them out loud to let me get to sleep and leave me the fuck alone. It was most astonishing, because within two minutes they let me fall into sleep. I cannot count the number of times they have kept me up for hours, and I tell them, and scream at them, that I want to get to sleep, all to no avail. And sometimes they have me stay awake all night for whatever reason. (And I routinely don't suffer a sleep deficit either). This would be the first time EVER that they have respected my request to let me sleep.

Back in the high disruption days of 06-2003, it was very noticeable that I was being kept awake and it occurred after swimming at the pool with the swim club. I was staying at my perp abetting parents then, (somehow couldn't find a place) and after an hour of thrashing around in bed, my father would go downstairs to the half basement and putz there for a minute, and come up the stairs with someone else, either following or beside him. The configuration of the stairwell was that it passed by my bedroom (other side of the wall), turned on the main floor, and then passed underneath my bedroom. Within five minutes of these peculiar excursions, with outside "help" (gangstalking by an external operative/shill- maybe someone I would of known), I would routinely fall asleep for the night. There were at least ten of these events and they were exactly consistent. It was only in 09-2003 when the new swim club season started, and after they took my fees for the year, that it was apparent that the swim club members were gangstalking too, that is, closing in on me uncharacteristically. So I gave up that. My discussions with the treasurer of the swim club were such that I indicated that I was getting gangstalked (like I had been in Seattle), and he said "hang in there, its worth it". Not that he returned my fees of course, all in keeping with the financial screw-over component of this senseless and relentless abuse-athon.

As mentioned in prior blog postings of late, and above, I am consistently getting the "vibe" (aka, planted notions, even momentary and passing ones) that all the perp hostilities are going to cease, "soon". (Perhaps 150x/day, rather high.) Again, it is a notion that I routinely reject as I have been through many of these imposed scenarios, and all have come to naught.

Given the mouse sabotage of late on this PC, even after I cleaned it out of gobs of debris, it is time to call this posting done for the week.

Sunday, March 18, 2018


A major messed up day today, starting with the excise wound that opened up in the night after I took the stitches out last night. This was to remove a 5mm lesion of basal cell carcinoma. It held fine, but this morning it was gaping, and at 0645h I decided to go to the hospital to get it re-stitched. This was partly because I didn't want a protracted gangstalk/gong show during regular day time hours at the hospital, and the fact that I was supposed to be starting bottling at 0800h, though I had my doubts about making a one hour turnaround at the hospital.

One drug-addicted looking Fuckwit woman, la common perp guise I have come to know, decided to stare at me while sitting in the Emergency waiting area, so I asked her what she was staring at and then she picked up her backpack and took off. Like WTF; if one is there in Emergency, one is there for a legitimate reason, but no, not for a shill or perp stalking asshole. Lets make it obvious. And I do believe I have seen her before somewhere, perhaps in my 2003-2011 days in Victoria, BC, the Gangstalking Capital of Canada.

I told my story to the triage nurse, then the medical student, and then the real doctor came in, and said, "I heard your story". Good; and then he told me about the pathology report from last week's surgery, and there were still cancer cells at the margins. (And if there is remaining cancer, it will not heal.) Decoded, they took some samples from the edge of the excise wound last week and later found they were still cancerous. I did not know this had been done, and so the option was to wait for the excising surgeon to get to his office and discuss what to do. I said, how about stitching it up and I will contact him and he will then reschedule surgery, as it took four weeks to get it booked in the first place. The real doctor said that was OK, and assigned the medical student the job of stitching me up. Like WTF; why is it me that has the sensible plan, and the doctor says to wait for another doctor who likely will not be available anyhow, and it will take weeks to re-book anyhow? So the medical student got to re-stitch last week's excise wound, and I got to tell him about the real properties of dopamine as a hormone, not just a neurotransmitter.

If I was a betting man, I would say this whole fucking deal (second hospital visit in two weeks over this excise surgery) was all about that; I get to sound off about my favorite clinical topic, dopamine as a hormone, this time to a 4th year medical student. I even talked about my book reading about the non-motor symptoms of Parkinson's Disease, (=neural dopamine deficiency) and didn't get any response. Not that he had a lot to say, and nor did he sound terribly interested, in keeping with all other doctors (9 or so) I have mentioned this to in the course of visiting them. (One weird doctor just stared at me, like he was totally out of it. Another occasion was when The Good Doctor phoned me one time when there was nothing pending, and as the conversation unfolded, I told her about my dopamine write up, and she asked for a copy, which I provided. She never mentioned it when I saw her next). So what is it about dopamine that the perps have me as a one man proselytizer when there is absolutely no hope of making any impact on these clinicians, and them making it all the more obvious by their singularly uniform non-response? Go figure.

If that weren't enough of a strange start to one's day, I went to work to start bottling, but the bottling line wasn't working as the label machine had a sensor that wasn't working properly for the labeling application. I got there at 0915h, and the crew was standing around having coffee. It was decided that we vineyard types would pull canes from the adjacent vineyard where I had been pruning for the prior three weeks and pull the cut canes out. And it "happened" to be raining, and so I got geared up in my rain gear, and lent my extra rain coat to the new guy who "happened" to have his rain coat stolen a few days ago. So three of us pulled canes in the rain for an hour, getting muddy boots in the process.

Then they decided to bottle wine, but the labeling machine still wasn't working, so a full day of bottling of three differing batches, and none were labeled. Which means they are to be hand labeled (somehow), some 4,000 bottles. A 10 hour work day, and it seems the perps just love to have me work late in this first week of daylight savings time.

So what is it about bottling wine, and the Fuckwits wanting blood? Two years ago on a bottling job the assholes cut me with the tape gun cutter and I had to suffer through a cut on my finger while the cases of wine kept coming on at a terrific rate. Not enough time to get a bandaid for crissakes; then they cancelled the break and had that run go for three hours straight. I won't ever forget that one. Added to this shit show over bottling and blood letting, the assholes gave me a cold sore, another source of intermittent blood that will persist for at least a week longer.

Back to vineyard work today, with the constant noise of house building going on. The usual; saws, drills, hammering, percussive devices etc. Adding to that, they had to tow the glass truck twice through the muddy road in the vineyard. Even the towing pick up truck almost got stuck in four wheel drive. And do the perps ever love to pass gangstalking glass bearing trucks near me, often without the glass even, just the empty rack on the side.

And they screwed me out of taking my audio player as well, now two days of interrupting me listening to LR, one of my favorite singers where I had left off. (I am counting yesterday's bottling work as an interruption). All in keeping with the start up of listening to music with headphones on in the vineyard for 2018. Two days ago, when turning on the portable audio player, they screwed with the normally reliable volume dial so I couldn't get volume, and when I finally did, they messed it up again when I put it in my pocket. Then the display screens didn't work properly, and if there is ever a device for remotely manipulating to render the user utterly infuriated at its dysfunction, it is a touch screen device. They had that one down long before I got it, or any like phone.

I saw the excision doctor this morning for all of 3 minutes; he said the cancer at the edges of his excision from the pathology report was "low grade" and to not worry and the excision wound will heal up. He said that I was young (I'm 63) and doing everything right, at which point I laughed. (Read, curious E. Indian logic here). He asked what I was laughing about and I said if I don't know what I am doing right how do I know I am doing it. For which he had no answer. I am to see him in 6 months. So for now, no more excitement, and to wait 10 days to remove the stitches this time instead of 7. I asked him if it opens up again after I have the stitches removed and he said it won't, so I pressed him, and finally got an answer; go back to emergency. I can just see how that one will go over if I arrive there and present with the same problem.

And who are these Fuckwits in the vineyard who either stand around, or else ride their bicycles through? One, with a harness on, presumably for roofing on the adjacent house construction, was standing 20' from my vehicle when I pulled in looking at his phone for crissakes. I get my gear and walk past him and start vineyard work, and then he follows for crissakes. Then a 2x bicycle rider, presumably from the adjacent house construction crew, zips through the vineyard during working hours. Again, what for? He wasn't accessing a parked vehicle, nor was the aforementioned just-stand-there stalker. This whole gangstalking shit show has escalated since 2018 began, and if I was fed up with it then, I am fucking fed up now. Just leave me the fuck alone.

Sunday, and I decided to work on tying down vines as we are getting behind and the boss man insists on doing all the pruning. Fortunately there is an extra guy with prior vineyard experience, and is available until the end of April, so perhaps we can get all pruning and tying down done by mid April.

More games with my portable audio player today. I put on "Play All" for a certain artist for whom I have some 8 albums, all of her output to date, and the player then recycles through the first three albums at least 3x before I intervened. I then put on the double live album by itself to fix this weirdness, and lo, if it isn't full of songs from those same three prior albums. The player should of played all 8 albums through and somehow "failed" to do so and "somehow" went into repeat mode on the first three only. As all albums from a certain artist are under the same directory, there is no normal way this audio player should have "decided" on its own to play only the first three repeatedly when it wasn't on on continuous play in the first place. It is just amazing that this portable audio player, which has sat unused since 09-2017, though charged, has suddenly erupted in new problems since I started using it again this week, per above.

Just on the heels of some peculiar pay changes at the vineyard, I see the Irish minx who looks after the book keeping has now moved onto another job. I though she was kind of cute and interesting, but I suppose the perps wanted to shut down that one, and moved her on.

Anyhow, I am getting some intense typo fuckery harassment, where backspacing and re-keying counts for half my key strokes, so it is time to call this one done for the week.

Monday, March 12, 2018

Excise Surgery

Wednesday, and I am still on vineyard pruning, though it is coming to a close. Perhaps one more day after this before the 4.5 acres is done. I get intermittent visits from the "Snow Bear" (all white), the Pyrenees Mountain dog for a trip down memory lane when I last had my Newfoundland (all black) in 1978. That my dog got cancer when it was 7 years old always seemed to be odd, but since the perps went berserk/overt on me in 04-2002, I have since become suspicious that they didn't remotely invoke this.

Interestingly, last year's vineyard had an all-white Akbash puppy that was tethered most of the time. It was a large dog too, and the odd time when I was in tether range tending to vines, the damn thing kept piling on top of me, despite my best efforts to show who was boss. It was that behavioral trait that ultimately earned its exodus to a farm of a family relation in Alberta. It became too intolerable in its own house even.

Back in around 2009 or so, when my father was still mobile and at home, though with Alzheimer's, he, me and my mother were walking at this outdoor accessible shopping area after a tea at a nearby business, and this pickup truck pulled up beside us on an access road where there was no allowed parking and stopped for no seeming reason. (No traffic holding it up, and why on a commercial lane?) The passenger window was open and there was a large Pyrenees dog in the passenger seat looking out at us. A beautiful and impressive dog it was, and it always struck me as odd that the perps needed to obviously arrange this for all of us to see together. As a family we were all familiar with Newfoundland dogs (three, serially), a black coated lookalike to the white Pyrenees breed. In fact, they may share a common lineage, as they may have crossed the Pyrenees breed with the local Newfoundland breed at the time, via introduction by the Portuguese fishermen of the time. I just find it most curious that the perps need to arrange dog coat colors, and breeds even to the point that one may look like another, and yet be an opposite coat color. And in case of this orchestrated vignette, all for less than 10 seconds of direct observation time.

Onto excising etc. Defined as follows;
verb (used with object), excised, excising.
1. to expunge, as a passage or sentence, from a text.
2 to cut out or off, as a tumor.
1. an internal tax or duty on certain commodities, as liquor or tobacco, levied on their manufacture, sale, or consumption within the country.

I took an hour out of my day to deal with my minor skin surgery that was scheduled a month ago. They even put on a single lane traffic at a 90 degree bend, replete with boom truck for my trip from work to the hospital. Any departure from work at an irregular time begets plenty of gangstalking action. It was a small lesion that was persistent on my forehead, under my hair hang for at least 10 years. The medical term is "excise", meaning to remove, a term I never use in this context, because I always associate it with the collection of government taxes on wine, spirits etc. I only recently became aware of the medical definition.

I got back to work afterward, and was having my lunch in the winery when the boss man came by, and I told him it was all done, and he said it was "excised"; true enough. As we were chatting, he tells me that the excise inspectors, the ones that collect revenue from wineries etc., "happened" to be in and he had just finished his excise audit, and all was OK. Such a fine coincidence, pivoting around two definitions of this one word in one morning.

All day yesterday I was hammered with planted notions that the perps are going to cease hostilities on me, just when I thought this mind fuck malarkey was over with.  As mentioned in past blog postings, this mind fuck game has gone one for at least one campaign every two years, (two week duration or longer) which makes at least eight, and many, many lesser duration times too. The notion that the perps would cease hostilities just doesn't add up; they are still busy on brownstalking, gangstalking my ass constantly (even more now), pit-lamping more too, and have been on me since birth, and even putting me through the MKULTRA abuses in Montreal (in all likelihood, hasn't been proven). It begs the question as to why they needed to wipe out 99% of my recall when aged 2 to 5.

And as part of today' mind-fuckery, they also added in plenty of their faux romantic notions with ML, another constant theme in all of this, though I have seen her in person at least twice. It is rare that this goes on all day, but it did. Apparently we are to meet "soon", a word that gets planted ad nauseum. In this escalated abuse situation, "soon" means tomorrow, and it hasn't happened. And I don't expect to meet anyone in a romantic situation, as who would be so crazy as to hang with a TI, save another TI or else an assigned perp? As if I haven't been through the wringer on this one in the past, as the perps have a knack of picking romantic losers for me; the ex became a nasty assed jerk (a sudden behavior change for the worse in 1990), and then Ms. C of my Seattle working days (1999-2002) was not only obviously involved in the abuse (before and after overt onset), but was a confrontational drama queen, with a minor habit of pulling frosty spells for no seeming reason. (I need to re-listen to Tom Waits' "Emotional Weather Report" on this one.) Within the first week of meeting Ms. C in 2000, it was obvious that she was prone to deceptive renditions of the facts, and I was thinking to myself then, how is it that I meet women who are fast and loose with the facts, and bullshit me so often? Mystery solved; they were planted, and seem to meet the perps need for seeding me with disinformation or just plain lies. Part of their information research imperative it would seem.

And does the pit lamping and gangstalking never end, never mind the fuckery of running me out of specific staple grocery items? The Fairview (Road) Train, as I call it, a 95% regular train of vehicles to hold me up at the corner of my regular beat before I turn onto that street at any time of the day or night. And why is it on a Wednesday night at 2000h, that these vehicles are arranged with such relentless consistency?

Then the gangstalking surge on my ass at the entrance to SOF supermarket. Still, they continue to run me out of large size coconut chunks, the display now 3 weeks empty save the small size, and kept the stalkers swarming me when I entered (at least four waves of the fuckers). I got skunked on getting cooked chicken, somehow it was cut off early tonight, so I ended up with pieces in a brown box instead of the black plastic container with the transparent plastic lid. Here we go again, heavy brown color research still; as if hot chocolate every day now with added cinnamon (a different color of brown) wasn't enough.

When I get back to my residence and am sitting in my vehicle filling out my time sheet, a gangstalker guy on my ass again, this time with his leashed dog underfoot as I was about to step out. He was headed away from me when I first arrived in the lane, and for some reason reversed his path and ended up beside me as I was about to step out of my brown interiored vehicle. He also wearing brown, though of a more different cinnamon tone, particular to a work clothing of a certain manufacturer. And to not put too fine of a point on it, I was doing this exact thing last week, parked only 20m away in my landlord's parking location when the woman from across the street delivered some misdirected mail to me on their behalf. I have been frequently gangstalked by my co-workers when putting my time card through the machine at larger work sites in the past. So what is it about filling out, or having my time card punched, that is so consistently interesting to the perps? I don't care, and I don't give a shit, just leave me the fuck alone, in any situation, everytime.

An inch of fluffy snow in the vineyard this morning that became slush in a few hours, and then dropped to the ground in another hour. At first the vines had to be knocked free from snow to enable me to prune them. Before long I had to dislodge the slush, but thankfully that glove wetting episode ended after an hour, and I got my gloves dried at lunch. I finished the 4.5 acres late today; after nearly three work weeks of grinding it out with hand tools, 3.5 rows per day, I am finally done.

Even getting pit-lamped in the vineyard now; vehicles from 200+m away, not to mention the adjacent property owner and his driving around. All I had to do was look up, and from 100m away, his headlights were pointed directly at me.

I got nailed for a two hour nap attack after work today. I might have had a half hour of sleep deficit at most, something that would go unnoticed in the main, but that morphed into a two hour take-down as I see it. It took me half an hour to pull myself together to get up. Then, even with clothes on, I was cold, and ended up changing into something warmer. Talk about punching a hole in one's evening.

And I see the job that I applied for last year, but became too mysteriously sick to consider continuing with the interview process, is now advertised again. I heard through the grapevine last year that it wasn't filled, so here it goes again. Hopefully it won't turn out to be a ridiculous puff ball interview like the last job interview (similar job) which amounted to nothing, as expected. It could be my first regular full time job since 2002 when the assholes ran me out of my job in Seattle, but one should never get too optimistic, especially when "dashed expectations" happen at 10x normal frequency, ever since 04-2002 when the perps first went berserk/overt. Keeping TI's broke is a big part of the game, and not to put too fine of a point on it, what will it be like to have an obvious set of gangstalking coworkers in an office? Been there, done that, (all those odious and pained looks) and one has to wonder why they would put me through that bullshit again.

Saturday, and a day of errands and the like. I really wanted to get my vehicle cleaned up and wear my muddy snow boots and clean them at the same time. The plan was to go early and beat the rush at this one auto cleaning business that has about 6 self serve bays, plus four vacuum cleaners, and for those so inclined, one drive through bay. Not only that, but they have change machines that always work (save one time), and failing that, one can use a credit card. Plus they are open in sub zero weather. Early turned out to be 1000h, not too early, but not late, but I got skunked big time. With three vehicles waiting at each bay, I decided to screw it, and get on with other things. I went back there an hour later and it was still the same. My read was that this was an orchestrated skunk; that is, choking the place up to thwart my intentions (aka "dashed expectations"), and to have me keep the big snow boots in the vehicle for the rest of the day. I cannot count the times that great expectations get dashed; no sense in making plans in this state of being a TI. They were gangstalking me up the asshole when I went elsewhere after this shit show, in keeping with what they usually do after pulling an big stunt.

Anyhow, on with the laundry and shopping etc. And with sunny skies, even if 4C, I put the laundry out to dry, though with the low sun angle and low temperature, only the breeze helped. I hand washed the ski pants that kept me warm for the last two weeks, getting them muddy on the last day. Funny how that "happens"; the last day of wearing them begets a situation (muddy conditions) that forces them to be cleaned before they get put away for the season (I hope). Cleaned for the first time as it "happens", as they had been sitting around for five years and I had "forgot" I had them all this time. I had other winter time work clothes, but this year, owing to new-found sensitivity to cold temperatures, I needed something extra. I am thinking of getting ski goggles and a face mask as well so I can be better prepared for winter temperatures next year. Past winter outside work hasn't been so bad as this one, even if the low temperatures have been about the same. I see that my morning body temperature is 36.2C, which doesn't seem good to me, and I get to 36.4C in the evening.

Wearing the ski pants for the first time suggests that the perps had this planned out five years ago as I don't ski, and I pondered then as to why I needed them in the first place. (The planted notion was that I was going to start skiing as there is a local ski hill here). This is another imposed "normal"; advanced planning so I have items (food, clothing typically) sitting around for extended durations before I need them. No question the perps have a big deal over the color, cut and fabric of my clothes, but I don't see why they are so consistently nuts over this as they are. I don't purchase custom clothes, so there must be thousands of others wearing the same manufactured clothes items, so why don't the perps study them instead of hounding the shit out of me? The perps tell me that I am the "test case" and they do study others (in the same clothes) in great detail, but for some reason need to study me more. Go fuck yourselves, I have been a study (read, abuse) victim for long enough. It will be 16 years of this berserk/overt abuse and harassment in mid-April, a little over a month from now. Not to mention a prior 47 years of being covertly monitored, with some abuse moments in the mix too.

Sunday, and the first day of daylight savings time, always a big perp event for whatever reason. Though this time, I went to work with two colleagues on cane collection in two locations and once done, for a project completion beer in town. It was warm, sunny and calm, and a perfect day to be outside in the vineyard. The bar was a little crowded, and new to me, they allowed children in there too. Which of course meant that two of them buzzed around me for a short time, all in keeping with the child-stalkers that have preceded them over the last 15 years of this shit show.

Anyhow, time to get this posted for the week.

Monday, March 05, 2018

Ordering Follies

More games with screwing around with online orders, or for that matter, ordering of any kind. The latest is this one, where I order only two items: ski goggles (that came with an extra lens and an integral balaclava, secured by magnets, note) and a liner glove, one that fits inside another glove. All in aid of the fact that it was so perishing cold working in the vineyard last week, along with the wind. So I ordered what would be the right gear, especially the goggle set that came with the integral balaclava so no wind could sneak in between the goggle and the face mask. Too effective I reckon, as this is what I got back in two messages from the outfit that specializes in ski wear:
C Sports Order #xxxx - Item Unavailable
2018 Feb 26th

C Sports said:

  Dear J, Thank you for choosing C Sports.Unfortunately, the 'Burton Touch n Go Liner Glove in Grey' is unavailable. Due to an inventory error this item was displaying online when it should not have been. Please let us know if you would like to select different items of similar value or if you would prefer to have the order canceled. We do have the Touch n Go Liner available in both Black and Camo size M. Our apologies for the inconvenience. Best regards,

I said:
    Black would be an acceptable substitute.

Later in the day (after I had gone to bed)....
C Sports said:
  Hi J, Unfortunately the 'Anon Relapse MFI Goggle' is also unavailable. We apologize sincerely for neglecting to mention this in our initial message. Please let us know if you still wish to proceed with the black Touch n Go glove with complimentary shipping.

I said (next day):
    Cancel the order.
In this day and age, with online ordering, these clowns make out that their system is screwed up. Only two items in the order, and both were available online, and poof, in two separate messages, both aren't available. Like who got to you? I cannot count the number of times that orders get screwed up, though to be fair, Amazon never lets me down.

And if I really want some more futility, I will attempt to order this from elsewhere, maybe Amazon, though the Canadian version is a muted one, with extra shipping charges to cross the border. Since I wrote that, I see that the particular goggles "disappeared" from C Sports, and is unavailable from and a major Vancouver sports retailer, who did have that particular goggle for sure, now doesn't. How convenient.

In the vineyard, it wasn't so cold today, though a balaclava was needed for the moist air coming from the melting snow and the wind that picked it up. The Pyrenees Mountain dog puppy came to visit on its own, not on a leash with its owner. I haven't had a big dog romp for four decades, and the intervening standard poodle didn't count much for that.

A split day; vineyard work in the morning, then head to the doctor in Kelowna, then back at the vineyard again. The good news from the oncologist was that the PSA score is substantially lower since radiotherapy, and that is good. From a 9.9 to now a 2.something. He expects it to get to 0.2 or so in two years, which begs the question as to why "normal" maximum is 4.5. I didn't get into that, though I suspect the politics of normal medical test ranges must be intense. I gave him my plug on radiotherapy depleting dopamine, hence my 10lb weight gain, feeling tired and memory messed for a month afterward and my present increased need for chocolate. And I gave him my reasons behind it too. I said that it will be at least 20 years that dopamine and prostate health ever get any clinical recognition, and he said he would remember that, but would likely not recall my name by then. I said I was fine with that. Other side effects were discussed, e.g. bowel issues, and he came up with an Rx. He liked my eye glasses enough and asked to look at them as they were of the kind he was looking at to change his pair. My next appointment is 9 months hence, and that is also a vote of the radiotherapy results going the right direction at the right pace. Oddly, he sat much closer this time, halfway into the room, unlike my sessions with him during radiotherapy when he was as the opposite end of the room. I give up on all this bullshit sometimes, as to why everything is so orchestrated down sub-second and sub-millimeter precision.

A 50 minute drive there each way, and the usual cavalcade to accompany on my journey's start in each direction. Nothing too spectacularly inane, and no traffic hold ups or lane closures and the like. I also stopped in at the anti-aging clinic to get my test kit. The Good Doctor "happened" to be about, and the front desk girl consulted her at one point. The Good Doctor didn't seem too engaging, so who knows what that is about. More feigned (or managed) coolness I suppose, and I have got plenty of that from most everyone for no reason, especially if they were friendly in prior interactions. They made sure I saw that her ring finger had no ring on it, as she is married with children when I saw her last year.

Again, having a ring on, or off, is often another stunt the perps like me to be aware of. Not that I am looking, or considering any romantic interest with anyone, but it just "happens" all the time, usually with the woman waving or moving her L hand about in my purview. Back in the high harassment days of 2002, Ms. C, my thought-to-be girlfriend, (though I had my deep suspicions as to her true motives from the outset), put on a ring on her ring finger and invited me over one night. Before things got any bit serious I asked her if she was engaged and had someone else on the go. Not that I would of been too upset, as I could of done with an excuse to get her out of my hair. She gave me some blow-off excuse as to why she was wearing a ring to signify she was married/engaged when she wasn't. Anyhow, this whole ring/ring finger/married theme has been a long running perp set up game for whatever reason. And as I have no romantic interest, and primarily operate from the perspective that I just want to be left alone, I don't know why the perps keep this theme going. (Maybe it is what most guys do, and I never had the habit until it was imposed on me now). Who knows, maybe the perps have their female shills take off their ring for a short gangstalking vignette, and then they put it back on again. I just don't give a shit on this one.

After work it was off on another diversion event, picking up a parcel, one for me this time. True to form, they stacked the line up at the PO again, this time with someone ahead of me who had 12 (brown colored) mailing tubes and started grousing about how much the postage was. Then incredibly, he had no return address on them, citing a possible confusion on the mailing tubes for crissakes. Thankfully the postal clerk directed him to a side desk to fill them out while the next customer was taken care of. But this is so consistent at checkouts; having a customer ahead go back for more items, or move around behind me or some such.

Outside the PO, the usual pit lamping intensity in the parking lot again, also filling in with a flux of Fuckwits. I wasn't done yet when I got back to my place, still in my vehicle, as the lady across the street had some misdirected mail for me, as I was looking after the landlord's mail while they are away. Then she goes on about a missing parcel of hers, for which she got a delivery notice for, and then tells me it was worth $xxx, which "happened" to be the exact same amount I paid for the above mentioned medical test kit that was sitting in the back seat of my vehicle. I felt obliged to show her my parcel in the rear tailgate section, and that it was for me, and not hers that was misdirected. All this bullshit over another parcel pick up, no doubt the perps getting their brown cardboard fix again.        

Two more days of vineyard pruning again, again the Pyrenees dog came for a visit without an owner. A frisky 6 month puppy, easily 20" high at the shoulder. The dog gave me an exuberant paw swipe across the face and I wrestled it down to indicate my displeasure. After that, the dog didn't try anything too rambunctious, though it kept testing me on wanting to chew the vines I had just pruned. So I ended up doing some dog training. Which was similar to last year at a different vineyard, when the big-dog puppy (different breed, similar fur color) insisted on chewing vines. That dog was particularly persistent and domineering, and thank goodness it was tethered, as I only had to deal with it when in tether range.

The weather is warming up, and the snow is starting to melt, and for two days now, "fluffy" rain, a wet snow that doesn't stay on the ground or roads. Better than -8C with the wind blowing by far, but the vineyard folks usually don't like to work in the rain. I find this mildly humorous, given my past forestry work in all weather conditions.

Saturday, and the landlords arrived back from their 4 week holiday in Mexico, looking very tanned. They gave me some foodie presents, and even some cash which they didn't have to do.

Major Netflix watching these days, and heavy on documentaries on musicians, or the music business; Amy Winehouse, Glen Campbell, Eagles, Rolling Stones, George Harrison, Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, Bob Weir, Tom Petty, Frank Zappa and a few others have been well served by my new found interest in their work. Many of these performers were never in my musical interests, but I became an admirer of all of them, and even a fan of some. The Muscle Shoals documentary was also well done. And the longer format serves the subjects well, up to 4 hours is no big deal when at home.

Sunday, and a major mellow day. Finally I was allowed to get my 2017 papers organized and filed, making way for getting my income tax return done next week. Nothing too spectacular on the gangstalking front when I was out, though they did put a negro on at the eggs section, in keeping with past bizarre gangstalking scenes at this same situation at other stores. And the specialty store is getting a refurbishment, and now, adding new checkouts that face the opposite direction; that is, I face N when at the cashier, switched from S. I cannot see any great reason for this, as the checkouts are at the same location as before. Maybe its another round of changing the anisotrophy of plasma or etheric energetics in the perps' insane quest of stalking and hounding my ass whenever I make a financial transaction. Lets see; I have only shopped there just over 6 years, so we have a long way to go.

Speaking of which, more incessant mind planted notion that they are going to cease hostilities "soon". (Their version of "soon" is sometime, mine is tomorrow). And of course they won't cease hostilities, or non-consensual human experimentation any time soon, depending on whose definition you follow. They are nothing but relentless, consistent and cruel, 24x7, and I am not expecting anything to be different this year, or a year from now. And too, they are dropping the romantic notions with ML in mind nearly constantly at times; as always, I have no interest in such, and operate from the perspective of wishing to be left alone. Plus they play up the planted notions of Ms C of the story as well, which they claim is the same person, just morphed over. Which may well be true as they have the same build, but give the hissy fit and frosty spells emanating from Ms C, this would be the last person for me to come to mind if left to my own thoughts.

Anyhow, enough of a week's trial, and onto posting this one.