Sunday, April 15, 2018

Two Hundred Thousand Page Views

"Page views all time history 200,072" says the statistics banner, and mine aren't counted in the total. I suppose that is a decent milestone for being a schmo at the butt end of an X-Files episode gone wrong for nearly 16 years. I have called it an abuse-athon, a relentless and senseless stream of covertly applied harassment and abuse for human nonconsensual experimentation purposes. Never mind that everyone else in my proximity seems to know, or be in on it, given the strange glances (and sometimes stares) I routinely get. And too, public behavior of others gets weird sometimes. And that I am kept in a densified magnetic field, first measured at 180-200 Gauss in late 2002, then 1800 Gauss sometime in 2008-09 on another (seeming) victim's equipment. In the first instance I rented industrial level equipment and spent many hours measuring, and I lived 12 stories up at the time.

Vineyard work, still tying vines down, and is going slower for some reason. lt was 1.5 hours per row, all rows the same length, and yet it was taking longer. At first I got 6 rows per day, then five, and even 4.5 one day. The perps like these productivity variance games, and I don't know how they do it. I suspect they interfere with one's sense of the passage of time as well as one's abilities to notice what one is doing. It seemed like one row was the same as the next and there was no substantial difference in between them.

Bottling wine today, though it was the same bottles we filled back in mid-March, but the labeling machine wasn't working. Then, the bottles got filled and then temporarily cased. And today, we finished the job, as the labeler machine was now repaired, and so the filled bottles went through the line, bypassing the cleaning, filling and capping machines, and went to the labeler machine. (I was informed today that a power spike caused the labeler's sensor's to fail back in March- we  know who can arrange that within a moment's notice, don't we?) Then the bottles came back around in the conveyor belt inside this mobile 40' trailer and we placed them in cases again. Quite a foorfaraw [n. a great fuss or disturbance about something very insignificant] to arrange a second time around for 3,000 bottles, but the perps and their unwavering obsession over having me involved in winemaking (and drinking wine to a lesser extent), are up to the task. And too, going back further in the chain, they have had me on viticulture laboring work for over six years now. And still they keep selling the idea that all this abuse will cease by next week on the sixteenth anniversary of this relentless atrocity. I am not buying it.

The bottling line, production line, working in close proximity with others, having a system that gets interrupted, and disrupted and perturbed through the conveyor system. The perps cannot get enough of this either, and I suspect it plays into their interest in dithering my perception of production rate as well as the innate learning of adapting to new situations.

A chilly and cloudy day of vineyard work today; thank goodness for my insulated ski jacket, even if the seams are strangely wearing out. Attempts to get a ski jacket in this off-season have turned to naught; one jacket I ordered was too small, and the return process was so ridiculous and fraught with "talking past me" support that I gave up. Sometimes one does wonder if a real person is at the other end of the "support" desk. When the support person gets the context and my intention blatantly wrong in 2 of 2 emails, one has to wonder if they are really human, or is it an automated reply with a person's name tacked on. And the perps would get no end of mileage out of that; thinking one was corresponding with a real person when it was a machine.

Yesterday was a nicer day in the vineyard, and I managed to replace the ski jacket for fleece vest, though the wind picked up later and I was glad for my toque.

Warm enough to have morning coffee break and then lunch outside at the winery picnic table. But I see the perps are up to their usual seat shuffling games again. I have sat at the S seat some 4x in the last two weeks when the weather has been cooperative. It is the most convenient and accessible seat, so one naturally gravitates there. This time, someone's papers were placed at that seat at coffee, and later at lunch, the boss lady was seated at the S seat on her phone, speaking in French. So I sat in the N seat next to the stainless steel clad winery equipment. Not a big deal, though I was pinched in some. These forced seat shuffling games go on all the time, and it just slays me as to why some deranged limitless budgeted agency has to force me to sit in different places at the same table all the time.

And still the financial transaction stalking games continue; tonight at SOF at the self checkouts, I saw my regular place had someone's groceries still there, bagged and paid for, with a banana hanging out of the bag. I go to the next one, and a few minutes later this woman with a backpack comes by, picks up the bag and starts eating the banana. And how many times has this banana stalking erupted in my presence? Too many to count. Then this woman starts gabbing to the checkout supervisor, and situates herself right behind me as I came to learn. She was close enough that I backed into her backpack, which caused me momentary imbalance. Said woman/stalker pretended to not notice in true perp fashion, and kept talking to the checkout attendant. And kept talking while all my groceries were checked. At one point I needed to call the checkout attendant over as the self-checkout glitched out, and she didn't know why. She fixed it, and the stalker woman kept jabbering away. Then my cell phone in my jacket rang, but I ignored it as I have experienced these "checkout calls" before, usually a telemarketer. I finished up by paying, (a financial transaction note), and then the two women closed in on me. The checkout attendant gathered up the empty basket right away, and the stalker woman came at me while still eating her banana. Then at one point, she picked up a newspaper and had it open, and then started talking to me (reading from it?) as I was gathering up my grocery bags. I ignored her and headed out. And what is so important about making a financial transaction that this batshit-wacko woman has to loiter around and push her backpack into my back all the while? (You know, the backing into me stunt, aka, "accidentally" on purpose). As the perps have been totally obsessed with this particular activity of making a financial transaction for close to 16 years, and presumably the prior 47 years before they went berserk/overt in 04-02002, this particular stunt wasn't out of the ordinary.

And I suppose, it was all the better that I had gone for a tan just before, and I was "lit up", or otherwise energized in some way that is advantageous for them.

I worked 9.5 hours this Saturday to finish the cane tying in the vineyard. Finally, the 4.5 acres is tied down, and so one can rest easy for a month or so. It was warmer today thankfully, unlike yesterday which was awful cold. My fingers are hacked up from the tie wire, and in addition they nailed my L thumb nail for 2 hours of minor bleeding. I was detecting a dogshit smell, and as the perps are fond of having step into such while in the vineyard, I checked the underside of my boots, and in doing so, broke my L nail. No dogshit attack as it turned out; which goes to show one how they can spook victims with fake smells. Nothing new there.

The big day came and went to a Very Big Nothing; this is the 16th anniversary of when they invaded my life in their berserk/overt assault that hasn't let up. (More in the next posting). And no cessation of hostilities either. My fingers are cut and aching from tying down, and still they run them into objects exactly where the hurt is. Including after work at the checkout at the supermarket. So... after four months of telling me this whole relentless 16 year long abuse-athon would end, sometimes 100+ times a day, nothing happens.

Sometimes I ponder how they will end this abuse-athon, and there are always a few likely considerations. Will it be an epic nonconventional assault like 16 years ago, or a soft slide into obscurity, possibly with imposed old age conditions? My vote is with the latter; they seem to revel in dopamine deficiency related issues, a hallmark of old age.

Today I went to my former employer of 2012-14 and helped them on their vine tie-downs. There are two others who work there, but in this ongoing game of rotating those in my proximity, both were away. And four clothing changes today; at first my heavy weather (yachting) rain coat which I have worn once in six years of vineyard work (or anywhere else), then the rain backed off so I wore my regular black ski jacket, then it got sunny so I wore my blue fleece vest, and then it got cold again (and wet for the last 10 minutes) so I reverted to the ski jacket again. I know, it sounds like a very dull account for a spring day, but the perps have an inordinate interest in what clothing colors and fabrics I wear.

Anyhow, enough for a posting and onto recovering from the 2.5 hour nap attack I got nailed with this evening.

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