Leg Pain Torture

03-17-2019
A week's wrap up in one day's posting. I "somehow" got slack and haven't kept up with the train of events as they occurred over the week, so this is going from memory, and doubtless some of the imposed harassment will go unrecorded here. And my paper diary hasn't been kept up for the last three years either, after being a faithful diarist since 04-2002 when all this rain (or reign) of abuse came down with such suddenness. I have been derailed by Netflix' "Spartacus" TV series of late. About time there was something a little more interesting on TV, a medium I had long given up on for its cultivated blandness and manipulated storylines. Though in keeping with current entertainment industry wretchedness, it would seem that the Spartacus casting was PC; I just don't think Asians were in ancient Rome, nor Negroes in such profusion. Imagine that, retroactive racial re-balancing of history via the (...? controlled) media.

And in keeping with the intense abuse days of 04-2002 to 01-2003, the assholes pulled severe leg pains in my thighs a few night ago, about one third up from my knees and turned inward. (Same as reported in the previous posting). And no less, matching pains, that is, in the same identical mirror image location on each leg. This new site (muscle group) of remotely applied muscle cramping effectively made walking very difficult, and was extremely painful. That I was screaming at the assholes was a given, and they seem to know how much I am receiving. I took on a new walk habit to relieve the pain, so I could walk the pain off, and lo, if the assholes didn't immediately relocate the locus of the pain a few inches away to then thwart my plan, as the walking suddenly became more pained. Talk about dynamic adaptation to infliction of pain by remote means and remote pain detection methods; these guys are good. And it is no surprise, because they were doing this back in 2002; they could adjust the pain level up or down, depending on where they wanted to keep me. What is new is that they are pulling this intense torture again, and then thwarting my means to alleviate it. This takes place at night almost without fail; for whatever reason I don't know, but they would have their reasons.

The next night they pulled this pain again, with the same high intensity, but only in my right leg. Same result; screaming at the assholes and a hobbled walk (at best) to relieve the pain. That I had a knot in my muscle for the next two days was unexpected, as they don't usually continue with residual effects from this kind of torture.

Now some three days later, and I am fine now. And just what is the purpose of this? Testing pairs of specific muscle groups perhaps, or pain to brain and back again neural activity or what? I don't care, just leave me the fuck alone.

Plenty of helicopters overhead at the vineyard where I am working this past week. At least 20 per day. The Bell 212's and 214's, EC 120's, and lo, a slow flying Sikorsky S-64 Sky Crane (now Ericsson Aircrane) too. A rare bird indeed, 40 built apparently.

And more hounding my ass in the SOF supermarket again, the "penalty" of going there at 1800h instead of my usual later 2000h. They skunked me for the first time on the chocolate croissants, as in none there when there has always been some since this dietary "need" came on about six months ago. And to no surprise, they had a stalker in place for each time I came around, making multiple visits in an attempt to shop alone, unstalked. They like to post gangstalkers whenever I am put through a "dashed expectations" stunt, and this was no exception. The same rotation of four Fuckwit gangstalkers kept showing up almost at every turn; eventually I just bailed from grocery shopping, being so fucking fed up on being so obviously hounded.

And an orb of green colored plasma was cruising along the entrance in my bedroom the other night. It was about 8" in diameter and was slowly moving along a linear path about 3' from my head and 6" off the floor and I "somehow" awakened to see it. Hardly a coincidence, but it is rare that the assholes let me see some of their unconventional  technology in action. Again, like the above mentioned pain imposition abuse in 2002, when they also let me see many such plasma balls, this would be the first in some 10 years that I have witnessed one so obvious. Most of their plasma games are fleeting (flashes often), less than a second or so, but this traveling orb was about a 5 second long occurrence.

My landlords are back from a 8 week holiday in Mexico; no more house attending or snow removal duties. And no poetic justice of one last snowfall for him to clear as the weather has gone from below 0C to 10C in the last few days, and will be even warmer this week. There was a 6" dump of snow six days ago that I duly cleared, likely the last for the season.

And in keeping with the Mexico connection in all this, perhaps a component of the perps'  geographic visitation games, that is surrogates for me who get to visit other parts of the world, my employers are going away for a week today. Whatever; the Mexico connection has been curious, as I worked with Mexicans in my 2008-11 farm working days, but when I moved to Penticton for vineyard work, I haven't worked with any despite their prevalence. I suppose the perps have a repeat planned, whereby I will end up working with Mexicans in the vineyards, but it is most curious that this theme was suddenly cut off. Perhaps the landlords and employers are surrogates for the Mexicans in some kind of earth-energy variance experimentation. I don't know, or care. Just leave me the fuck alone.

Anyhow, another week of TI existence passes with nothing too exciting on the horizon, just the way I want it.

Excise Surgery

02-07-2018
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. 

noun
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.

03-08-2018
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.

03-10-2018
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.

03-11-2018
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.

Half Holiday

11-13-2017
With the Remembrance Nov. 11 holiday on a Saturday, this means that some businesses, and government, who are normally closed on Saturday, have decided to take the Monday off too. And as it "happened", the two businesses I went to in an attempt to get a quote on the clutch replacement. And in both instances, there was someone there. I call these kind of events, "skunks", as a consequence of dashed expectations. The business should be open, but isn't. Similarly, if I go to a store for a regular product, knowing where it is, and it is sold out, I also deem this as a "skunk. The perps just love, love, these set ups. As it was today, with extra stalking, extra disruption and prior annoyance in advance. So why is it they need to disrupt my existence so often, with such higher occurrences than before they went berserk/overt on me in 04-2002? I suspect it has something to do with a brain dopamine interaction at the moment of successful outcome, and they and their stalker assholes are on hand as some kind of bio-energetic shills/sensors to somehow record the event.

Last month at LD, they even moved the men's shaving products altogether, and when I went to the regular shelf location, it wasn't there obviously. I turn around to depart, and there are two aisle stalkers suddenly on my ass, one younger woman who caught my attention. So here we have a dashed expectations outcome again, but for a different reason; they moved the whole section of men's products, not "just" drawing down the supply of the particular item. But even this minor variation brings on extra stalker coverage for some reason. Why cannot these assholes just leave me alone, and quit obstructing my dopamine situation? (Which is already depleted because I have ADD, and the assholes blocked the very successful stimulant treatment I took from 2000 to 2003.)

No radiotherapy treatment today, a half holiday at the hospital I suspect, though one staff member said they were going to do a software upgrade over the weekend. Perish the thought, having worked in software, and of course, being at the butt end of Windows and other application upgrades. The most feared word in the Western world is "upgrade" these days, and for good reason. Even the Samsung phone upgrades are prone to stupid fuckery just to mess with customers IMHO. The notification of messages in particular; it used to be that every incoming message brought a notification ping tone. But not now; if the text message arrives with 5(?) minutes of the last text (same respondent), it doesn't ping now. And of course, no Settings to change the new and inconvenient imposed notification behavior. So why did they do this? Do they think that every one is sitting in rapt attention to the phone/text device for some pre-determined (by Samsung) amount of time? In my case no; I put the phone away and get onto something else. From what I can tell, it cannot be changed. Thanks for the upgrade Samsung, and I pray you never make gamma ray cancer treatment devices.

And what is with Windows and their Start button, which often flakes out? The Start button is everything; otherwise one cannot view or access one's applications software. Poof, its gone and the PC is hogtied. How is that for a self-destructive upgrade? Same for you Microsoft; do not ever make the base OS for a gamma ray cancer treatment center.

And a whole three weeks into Yahoo's mail upgrade, which I refused to accept, they stiffed me with the upgrade anyhow. As in no choice. So what was the point of asking me to decline the upgrade in the first place? Thankfully they didn't screw it up and functionality was largely kept with all the same visual cues. But after using email for over 30 years, often as in-house software, I really don't need an upgrade. But no, they think I do.

A serious tattoo line up at yoga tonight. Four of them plus me lined up abreast in front of the instructor, and three of them had serious tattoos down their arm. The only one who didn't, was the wife of the overweight male tattoo-ed specimen. Gross, or at least, I find it so, and this whole "tat attack" has been yet another part of the freak show the perps like to put in my face.

At yoga, about 12 yogis, of which two were returning regulars, the rest new. Again, I find it most unusual there are so many newbies each week, most of them don't look much practised in yoga anyhow. For some reason, the regular instructor isn't coming now, and the student fill in of last week is now the instructor. A most strange turnover situation of instructors, but whatever.

11-15-2017
Another of my daily, (6 weeks total), trip to Kelowna for radiotherapy. Though today, their system upgrade kicked in for real, and the whole process was slowed down for some reason. Even a radiation oncologist (he said) came to apologize to all of us in the waiting room. Though I suspect he was with the company that made the radiotherapy equipment (at best), all dressed in a suit, as were a few other males. I don't know quite why, as shouldn't they be in some backroom somewhere working on software? Having these suits walking the hallway struck me as most odd. Perhaps it was a men-in-suits abreaction they were looking for.

For some reason the perps jangled me this morning, and I felt like I had two cups of coffee, when I didn't. Two weeks ago, I did, at the behest of the radiotherapy staff. Later today, I worked out, but felt totally useless, and walked on the treadmill for 15 minutes. So much for working out and boosting my dopamine supply. Besides, the gym seemed such a "herding show"; that is, placing Fuckwits around me all the time, some just sitting there in what I have come to know as "regular" gym behavior.

The perps seem to be on the rag today for whatever reason. They even went silly on my parking neighbors at the cancer clinic. That's my Ford Escape backed in, with a near color matched brown-tan sedan beside it, and lo, three same deep red colored vehicles parked around the Escape and the sedan. (Pardon the out-of-focus, as one can thank my tormentors for that, having a knack of moving my fingers at the critical moment).

I haven't seen this stupidity for at least 6 years, since I was in that holy gangstalking town, Victoria BC. The present record for same color surrounding vehicles, parked or in traffic is eight. That's right, eight deep red colored vehicles parked around me in traffic one time.

And just to make sure there was some black reference colors, why, these two were parked in front of me before I set off from the above scene. Looks like a white one was placed between them for color contrast. Those scary black vehicles again, somewhat muted by accumulated road grit. Its the low reflectance that makes them more scary, or at least to me, and possibly eliciting abreactions for a time that I was witness to such, but was memory deleted, (1956-59).

11-16-2017
An early, 0900h, radiotherapy appointment today, meaning I had to get up at 0600h. For that, I got nailed with a two hour nap attack in the afternoon.

And what is it about smiles, and grimaces (countenances, or facial expressions) that are so interesting to the perps? This is the third week of Mon-Fri radiotherapy at the same treatment room each time. The regular staff know who I am, having seen me more than once. It is easy to pick out the patients there if they are outside the waiting room (in the hallway); they are either in the standard issue togs (blue and brown), have a toque on (if in chemotherapy), or if just arriving or leaving before they get changed, are packing the standard issue plastic white bag to carry their togs to and from the hospital. Anyhow, I was standing at the water cooler taking in water in the hallway, dressed in my togs, as I am to fill up my bladder, as required. One of the radiotherapy treatment technicians, a woman in her 30's, Ms. Cne walks out from behind me, and heads down the hall, some 100'. I recognized her build and hair from seeing her working with patients in the adjacent radiotherapy unit, as one waiting room serves both. One time she switched units, introduced herself, and got me set up on the table, aligned with the laser beams for accurate placement, as they do each time. She was friendly, smiled, but to be fair, she isn't an over the top gushy bubbly type. Getting back to the water cooler story, as I need to take in 4 cups of water, she comes back down the hall on the same track (inside of 2 min.), and as she nears me, I look at her, and she looks at me with this grimace, and no hint of recognition. Like WTF; is she on grimace duty or what? (Curiously,when she was on duty the one time, she was the only one who needed to rub some compound on my faint freckle tattoo on my front; over a week later, all the others still don't need any kind of solution to augment its visibility).

And then to contrast that episode, as I was leaving, a staff member who I had not seen before, and had no prior interaction with, smiles at me. (Recall that I am recognizable as a patient as I was packing the standard issue plastic bag). I smile back, and that was the end of it. Interestingly, I was near the said water cooler at that moment. So what are these managed countenances all about? Two of the three regular radiotherapy technicians now seem be friendly, having relaxed from their initial disinclination. The third, a younger tall woman, is still in evasive face contact mode. Whatever. It just seems so staged or else she has an severe anxiety problem.

Long term readers, and many TI's, will know that I consider my every move and breath to be choreographed, so seeing people behave strangely is to me, no matter how fleeting, is a managed event.

As an aside, where I get my water from, and in what drinking vessel seems to be such a big deal to the perps. There has been more than one stalker doing duty at the water cooler, just hanging around there for no, or little, seeming purpose.

I felt better today, not jangled. I recall the first week of radiotherapy that the radiotherapy treatment technician had me drink coffee, and I felt very jangled from that. So it would seem the perps are up to some kind of neuro-fuckery, and used coffee intake as the cover excuse. Yesterday, they dispensed with the coffee for whatever reason it seems. Though a cover excuse could be that I worked out at the gym yesterday, though by my standards it sucked. I couldn't get running on the treadmill for more than 3 minutes and had to back down to a stiff walk for a total of 15 minutes. I am getting governed down as to how much effort I can expend at work outs. Last year I ran for 22 min. straight after my iron infusion. "For some reason", I didn't do a running test after my iron infusion this year, 08-2017.

11-17-2017
An early afternoon radiotherapy session today; all seemed in order. The oddity was that they sprang a male technician on me. I didn't know until I got into the treatment room, and there he was. He introduced himself, and offered his hand (none of the others did, all female), which I shook. Then he told me as I was getting on the bed that I was in the right spot, and I said that after three weeks, I think I have it figured out. He seemed the hyper type, not one to fuss the details, always a little disconcerting when one is being positioned precisely with lasers on top of the freckle-size tattoos they placed on me with such precision. Anyhow, I suspect the "diversity show" will continue as the radiotherapy technicians tour continues.

For the first two weeks it was a regular three some, though only two at a time, save two different E. Indian females, plus the above mentioned smile-compromised woman, Ms. Cne, all single time guest appearances. This week they are heavy on rotating others in; two different ones on T,W, one of whom only shows up at the end, which doesn't matter a whole lot as only one person is needed to move the bed laterally and lower it, and remove the calf support. Anyhow, being a regular, near M-F event, now at three weeks, and two more to go, I suspect that this particular TI Victim Tour will bring on more visiting variants. Say, male ponytails, male bob-jobs, more brown colored workers etc. But at least the tall young one, who is so face contact averse, finally did look at me today over wishing me a good weekend.

And I see they have cranked on another 1kg of body weight since two weeks ago. I started this deal at 87.8kg, then was 92.4kg, and now 93.4kg. I asked the doctor about it and he said all his prostate cancer patients gain weight. Well, thanks for telling me in advance. Now that they sucked me down barely being able to run on a treadmill, this is getting problematic. I suppose vineyard work will wear some of that down, but I must wait until February for that.

And the "usual" hallway scene when I was dressed and heading out of the change area of the gamma ray cancer treatment area. This time, three dithering dipshits strung abreast across the hallway, adroitly placed at the nexus of the hallway and the crossing path from waiting area to treatment rooms. If it isn't there, it is in the 60' of hallway, at the corner of the hallway and the main lobby, or at the doors to outside. Add on the "usual" pit lamping headlights when I am in the parking lot or in my vehicle, and then add on vehicular clusterfucks when attempting to exit a four way crossing. Then the odd swarm of street stalkers sometimes. Not all of these "happen" every day, but enough to tell me that this is arranged. One day they even put on a cancer patient whom I had seen twice in the waiting room, and there she was sitting at a bus stop three blocks away, on the side of the street headed to the clinic. Like WTF; she could of walked, or else she wasn't a real patient. My post gamma-ray irradiated lower body region state seems to be so interesting to so many people for reasons they don't wish to tell me. Go figure. After 15 years of being harassed up the asshole, stalked everywhere in this insane giant choreography around me, they still won't tell me. Whoever they are of course, but they seem to be hugely influential, and do seem to reward all those who take part.

And it seems that the week's end of treatment (Friday) is also ripe for extra perp stunts. Three weeks ago it was the car audio guy who fixed my car deck's problem by unplugging and then reconnecting it for crissakes, and then drove it whole 60' to the front of the shop. He didn't need to drive it in the shop, and for that matter, didn't need to drive it at all. Then last week it was the Ford dealership's transmission technician who (strangely) didn't want to test drive the vehicle, but had me drive it to demonstrate the clutch was failing. He was a little strange it seemed to me, as normally automotive techs just love to talk shop, and I love to hear it. This week, after negotiating extended vehicle trains all over town, I went to get my weekly salon tan. No interaction of others with respect to automotive repair of course, but there was the woman at the salon, with her daughter or daughter-in-law, and her grandchild. Anyhow, she confirms how many minutes, and I tell her, and she says to go right in. I get undressed and all, lie down, and she hadn't set the master switch. I get dressed, open the door, and yell out over the fan noise and the terrible AM muzak, and request that she turn on the switch, which she does. Like WTF; it is the second time she has pulled this shit, and she has been there for over five years, and is sharp as a tack. And the third time it has "happened" there. So maybe the whole deal was to rile me up, post irradiative treatment state. I give up; just leave me the fuck alone, and fill my bank account before you go.

Everyone else gets cash splashed on them for taking part, and for 15 years I get nothing but insane and sustained abuse, and cancer too. And I get stiffed with the most obdurate stick-in-the-mud Fuckwits this planet has every known, all my working life, long before this reign (or rain) of abuse came down 04-2002 and hasn't let up since. There should be a TI Victims contest, perhaps online, where we brag about what have been the worst abuses, the most vexing, damaging, etc., all kinds of categories could be arranged. Better yet, maybe in the form of a reality show, where we are on stage, and no planted shills to screw it up. Hope springs eternal.

Then a confluence of phone calls when I get back from the tanning salon; a work related one, and then the unemployment bureau was giving me a courtesy call. Like WTF; I haven't had any calls all week, and I get two inside of five minutes just as I get in the door, a favorite perp time to get me it seems. Along with other fuckery at that juncture; scrambling my fingers so I drop the keys, having me "forget" items to force a back-and-forth, jamming the door so make it difficult to lock etc. Building egress fuckery I call it. Though in fact, they often pull this shit when transiting between rooms; having me "miss" turning the light switch on or off is a specialty at these junctures.

Anyhow; I got sucked down into a grim mood last night, so I will post this now, Monday, 1300h, 11-20-2017.

Guinea Pigs

10-02-2017
A new (2014) book by Dr John Hall, Guinea Pigs; Technologies of Control, also author of New Breed; Satellite Terrorism in America. The author is a MD, anesthesiology in San Antonio. A decent 17 min. video here. I have not read either book, but they are on my list, and the author is well spoken and highly respected in TI circles. In this video he mentions 300,000 reports of organized harassment, which likely covers workplace mobbing through to significantly greater harassment; gangstalking, abuse by conventional and unconventional technologies. The latter book was his story of interaction with a person who was suffering from these harassment issues. Where Guinea Pigs builds on the technologies and gets into its wider scope.

Interesting that my mother told me I was a "guinea pig" when I was five years old, though I had little concept of it at the time. Or little notion of what she was talking about until this rain, or reign, of harassment and relentless abuse came on me in 04-2002.

And I now learn my radiotherapy for prostate cancer begins in three weeks, a total jerkaround as it was to begin today. So three more weeks of sitting around and not a whole lot to do. Well done; string the victim out to do more of nothing. The reason I am pissed about this is that they had me from 2003 to 2008 doing nothing much, and are still at it. The worst of it is that the delay gives the perps three more weeks of hammering me with planted notions of going to LL for proton beam therapy instead, which is totally unrealistic. The cost would be over $100k, money I don't have, and would be a three day drive to get there. Yes, I did contact LL at one time to find out if I was eligible, and I would be, and in later correspondence I told them it was not feasible for financial reasons. It has been over a year the perps have been pounding me with this notion, and often with the same phrase, "LL for proton beam treatment is in your future". Just leave me alone, and stop pummeling me with infeasible and unrealistic dream scenarios. (There would be additional benefits of going to LL too, but I won't get into those, as it is not relevant).

Yoga tonight, and some of the regular crew were back. The cute young female butts of last week were mostly gone, but they did put two fat ones in front of me with an attractive slender young butt further behind them. And two new dudes, one seriously tattoo-ed with some fugly ink running up his arm, and on his leg. They also put the sometimes-friendly freak dude next to me; he became friendly over time, and he has now reverted to unfriendly. Variable friendliness is nothing new in this business. They had me at the SE back corner again, presumably to watch butts, and do comparisons between the large two and the attractive one further away. Don't ask me what that is all about, though I have read that one gets a dopamine rush if one sees something, or someone, attractive. Perhaps all this is a variation of the perp's alternating game of Unfavoreds with Favoreds; placing the fugly dude stalker with the cute blonde girl, and having them cross back and forth. In the above yoga instance I would get my dopamine rush from observing the ass end, if it is proportioned to my personal esthetic. Maybe the perps are building a total dopamine response profile of me; face, hair, eyes, butts, breasts and the list goes on, with selective covering of certain body features so that the dopamine rush is only from, say, the ass (per above yoga). Or, say only from the face, with her large body form or ass covered by a long sweater. And then they might map my dopamine response transition from cute face to large ass and all manner of other spatial juxtapositions and permutations. Go figure; all I want to be is left alone, and here we are, 15 years of relentless abuse and stalking, and it seems that they are nowhere close to done.

Before I went to yoga though, I got nailed for a 3.0 hour nap attack. It was after a late lunch lunch, and I had resumed reading for 20 minutes, and then the nap attacking came on. No sense in fighting it, so I laid down on my bed and lo, it was 1800h when I awakened in a state of semi-stupor. Again, I did not need the sleep, as I had a 9 hour sleep last night. These outrageous nap attacks take up so much time, and IMHO, are of no organic origin.

10-03-2017
Mellow times these days, after waiting some two weeks for radiotherapy to begin, all to find out that it is going to be another three weeks of wait time.

But oddly, my one appointment of the day, to get the vehicle L headlight installed, became a stalking scene. I waited at the body shop for 30 min. while it was installed, and a granny stalker came to stand at the door for 15 minutes. Then I went to a machine shop to see if they can cut a groove in my hand pruners where my finger sits all day long when I use them in vineyard work. The need to ever modify things runs deep, and I suppose it just might be a perp need. They like to dig up the streets where I have walked and driven, so it doesn't surprise me that they would want to take some metal off a tool I have used for 100's of hours every year. Hopefully this will be an improvement, and not the faux "cause" of it breaking sometime in the winter when vine pruning.

Such mundane event turned out to be a bit of an over-obvious vehicular gangststalking afterward. I had a pick up truck (stinking diesel kind) and a VW Jetta ahead of me for two blocks before they turned L, where I do, off a tertiary arterial. Then one block, and then they turn R, which is unusual except for those living in this area, never two vehicles together until today. And even more obviously, they turn L 80' along where I make my usual turn down the lane where I park in. I said, "Fuck That", and went around the block, and into the lane from the other direction. And lo, these same two vehicles were parked in the lane, one each side, and only 6' between them. Like WTF, two vehicles trailing ahead of me through three turns down a lane, where no one to date (in four years) has done this, and then blocking my egress on public property with an obviously arranged lane blocking. I have been going down this lane nearly every day for 4 years, and have never seen anyone block it, save once with a Monday summertime party of pickup trucks opposite, two years ago.

A confluence of new music today and yesterday; web trovings of "best of's" revealed a new find that was in full album sample on allflac, and then three CD's arrived today, two from a new performer. All very good. Last week, one of my new CD's turned out to be a dud, and I didn't rip it, and will send it off to the charity outfit before long. I have these (seemingly arranged) music interests, where a number of new finds come via CD or online all about the same time. All of this is through my headphones as my amplifier is still in the repair shop, and the battle over that isn't over. Last week the guy said he would send it back and it was to arrive this week, as he couldn't find any problem with it. (It was crapping out on the L channel, and wasn't the player or the speakers). I haven't heard back as to whether he redoubled his efforts, as he isn't the communicating kind.

10-05-2017
The stereo amplifier came back after six weeks away; so far, it seems to have magically fixed itself. Unless it was one big bullshit stunt by the vendor, claiming it was fine when he did fix it. Or else the perps fixed it, after sabotaging it in the first place. Exasperation runs river deep here, and all the more when consumer electronics, and particularly music listening equipment, takes on an escalated propensity for sabotage. Even the lowly portable DAP is now able to put out a signal into the amplifier and have it heard through the speakers. And that is most strange, as I couldn't get a damn thing out of it, no matter the input set I used. (But it did work fine through the headphone amp). I smell a fix (literally) at the vendor's end, after all, it took him three weeks to start looking at it. Hmmm... And it does seem the music is a little brighter and more detailed, or perhaps it was that I had a "rest" from listening to music from my speakers. As to why the vendor couldn't fess up and tell me it was a warranty fix I don't know. (Maybe it was to protract my fussing and fuming angst. Or maybe to duck the statistics on true warranty repairs etc.). I have given up on expecting honest and rational behavior in this Potemkin Village I live in.

My residence heat pump unit also had a unexplained failure of the front panel to open when blowing air. It was working fine when I was using it for the little air cooling in the summer, and then after three weeks of no use due to just-right weather between seasons, the panel didn't lift when I set it for heating. The landlord didn't seemed too fussed about it, and even aided the repair cause, by removing the panel, and allowing the heat to come out. And too, back to his/her habits of entering my place without permission again, as I had just departed for my IV vitamin C treatment.

10-06-2017
The usual stake out at the doctor's office, this being the drop in clinic, as I needed two medication Rx renewals. And the usual pained look ("poor you", maybe) of the support staff. It seems black pants are in, as everyone was wearing them, save the atrocious tight white and light green checked pants of the woman opposite. I suppose it is de rigeur that everyone is plugged into their smart phone these days, busily at the screen doing something. Or is it just me, and that the perps need to surround me with stalkers on their computers wherever I go nowadays? Back in the early harassment days of 2002-3, there was a sudden eruption of stalkers on their cell phones then, but of course with more features and capabilities on these devices, not to mention a larger color display, the instance of phone/smart phone stalkers has escalated to 90% or more in any public captive situation. Anyhow, I was done in an hour, which isn't bad for all the patient surge games I usually get at this drop in clinic.

A visit to the shrink this afternoon started down its predictable futile path. The meeting was scheduled for two months hence, but a cancellation came up, and so I was back within two weeks. Naturally he ignored the SPECT scan results, (ADD inattentive subtype = dopamine deficient), and revelled in the consequences of the apartment invasion and the rest of this unconventional abuse and harassment that began in 2002. He didn't have any explanation as to whom the personnel where, nor the markings and physical remnants they left. Nor did he have any explanation as to why past dopamine agonists have been so helpful, and dopamine antagonists have been totally debilitating. The shrink concluded that I was "dopamine rich", which flies in the face of all preceding clinical history and the 2017 urine dopamine test results I gave him. I will spare you the actual diagnosis. But he did concede to contact the former shrink to 2011 who said that I was being harassed. As to whether this essential fact was entered into the record I don't know, but as I see it, it is just another dodge, likely designed to dig me deeper in this hole the perps made for me in 2002-3.  Well done perps; you had this figured out from the get-go. And in fact, had this figured out 200 years ago in the case of James Tilley Matthews (TI Zero, IMHO), illegally incarcerated by a shrink of the day (Dr Haslam) who wanted to make a name for himself by categorizing psychosis, but had this one patient that didn't fit his scheme (because he made sense). Hmm.... It is all there in Mike Jay's originally titled "The Air Loom Gang", now retitled as "The Influencing Machine", or the more mistitled  "Visionary Madness".

This whole dopamine deficiency treatment quest has spun totally out of control; all I wanted to do was get going on dopamine agonist medication to counter dysthymia, low motivation and ahedonia (all  caused by low dopamine), and to address the hormonal aspects of dopamine deficiency such as urination issues, (though too late for prostate cancer) and other immune system issues and more technically, which dopamine agonist treated the D1 or D5 family and what served what particular body or brain system the best. I never got to first base with this fucker, when I had him painted in a corner with tests and scans that supported my case. In fact, I didn't want to see a shrink at all, but a dopamine expert, and it could of been a neurologist or a endocrine specialist. Though in the latter case they aren't up to speed, anywhere near the research literature, and likely won't be for a half century. Coming in, I was 6 for 8 for useless (or more accurately, contrary) shrinks, and now the count is 7 for 9. And not forgetting that the first four blew me off about ADD, and the subsequent SPECT scan totally revealed that (organized, IMHO) futility.

I got stiffed with this stultifying fustard of a shrink who has taken this whole thing backwards to the extreme Fuckover scene of 2002-3, when I was kept illegally incarcerated, and hounded all over the PNW with targeted head pains. Anyhow, another meeting is scheduled, though I don't suppose the records he will be requesting will be any help. The die was cast last visit, and these fuckers don't/won't ever evaluate any new material in a new light, nor will they deal with the substantial inconsistencies in any way. The shrink kept begging off, saying "it is just my opinion", but really didn't have a substantial rebuttal when I said his opinion was full of holes that don't hold up. I at least was granted the request to make a dissenting opinion that could be added to the report. And too, I was at least allowed to hold my own and not be run over as usually happens in these circumstances, though not true for all medical practitioners. I never get to ream the urologist's ass out for his deceits and dodges.

I did ask the shrink if there was any involvement by any other party in my consult or report outcome. I got the interesting body (lie spotting) language again; the pause, the look up, and he said "no" and then went into an explanation as his report's history and disposition. That is the thing about lie-spotting; it takes a while to read the cues, as everyone's lying style is a little bit different. The last full-on lying shrink would look at the floor when I asked these pointed questions, and I became to find it funny that he was so consistent. As this is the second visit of this guy, and the first point-blank question about outside intervention that I posed, I don't have a "lying profile" for this guy, and I am unlikely to get one, as the next visit should be the last. For now, I will have to content myself to writing a pithy dissenting report. All to sit in his file cabinet of course, as I may elect to refuse to have it sent to the initiating doctor. Anyhow, I have seen enough of this idiot to know that he wouldn't know a D1 or D5 agonist from a hole in the ground. What good it that anyhow?

As to where all this is going dopamine deficiency-wise, I have no idea. The perps are now pummeling me with planted notions of "it is all going to work out fine", but there never was a cast of liar like them, ever.

Anyhow; who was that babe of a stalker at LD this morning who was on my ass just when I turned around in the aisle and couldn't find the shaving cream as LD had reorganized the shelves? I got the "usual" in-the-way-but-won't-look-at-me (vapid, I call it) countenance. Then she "happened" to be exiting the store ahead of me (not having done any shopping), to then lead me outside to the parking lot, and with her vehicle only two away from mine, which I thought it was an astonishing coincidence. Nice deep black hair, but the lipstick was a little strong, blackish-purple. If it was ML, she is now 20 years younger and her ass is now half the size, having seen her once in a ridiculous gangstalking scene in 2005-06. And the number of times they put stalkers on me just when I get skunked, (aka, dashed expectations) as in not finding what I expected to find, is another fine coincidence show that began when the harassment did, 04-2002.

10-07-2017
Picking grapes today, at my former employer of 2012-15. I get $0.07/lb. That works out to roughly $200/day at my picking speed. I neglected to tell him that they were paying pickers $45/hour in California this year, as there was an urgent need and they couldn't find enough. I suspect grape harvester machine sales are going to go up for next year.

10-09-2017
And picking grapes all day yesterday, with the perps making their presence know by pulling the picked bunch from my hand and dumping it on the ground. After one day of reasonable freedom from this intrusion, they started it up on the second day. Thanks a bunch assholes. I reckon they pulled this shit at least 100x in the day.

And Thanksgiving dinner with my employer's family for the last two dinners; nice of them to host this TI for a rare social evening. This time no boarding house reaches across my dinner plate, the height of rudeness I will surely never forget three years ago, same circumstances.

 And grape crushing and pressing work today after two hours of picking. I use the word "pressing" advisedly as the owner has this peculiar cheap-assed way of separating the skins from the juice; he runs the crush into bins with drill-hole perforations in the bottom, which retains the pulp and lets the juice run through to a screen below, and then into a recieving bin at the bottom. After 12 hours or so, he takes the top bin off with the fork lift and then dumps it, so it is a gravity only separation, no actual pressing. He gets an extended soak, unusual for white grapes, and the juice gets more air exposure (not good either) too. Anyhow, he did this when I first made wine for him in 2012, and won't get himself a real press.

I see the owner now has one of those motorized wheel chairs, aka, "mobility device". Here he is running a 5 acre vineyard, and a 20 ton (grape weight, before crushing) winery, as well as the sales etc. and he now has one foot in the grave. Not only that, he is doubling down, and starting a tasting room down below for next year. What was that phrase in "Teahouse of the August Moon", about ambition exceeding one's grasp?

Anyhow, time to launch this for the week, and see what the whole-life containment show brings next.

Scanning and Tattoos

09-18-2017
As a full time tattoo loather, I got my own set of three freckle-like tattoos today, along with a scan to identify where my to-be-irradiated (in med-speak, treated) prostate is. Irony of ironies, but as they are quite small, I can live with them. It was either that or else get some irretrievable gold pellets shot into said gland. And all the while a red laser beam marked the center of the scanning bed, and me when on it. And of course, the perps love firing lasers at the victim (me) as well. So here we are, a troika of perp intrusions; tattoos (loathed as artwork on others), a laser beam, and a CT (X-ray) scan. This is all to get my alignment for the focused beam treatments, 28 of them I am told, Mon-Fri, whenever they start.

The two technicians, both women, marked and scanned me, and then repeated the exercise, and once happy with their positioning, marked me permanently with ink. Funny how they pulled the frumpy one from the exercise, and kept the better looking one to finish the job. More of the swapping game I suppose, most notable at cashiers, though often male for female, or vice versa. 

For that, an hour's drive to Kelowna, and the the usual extra road traffic that accompanies me. Though to be fair, I don't have a read on this region of the world to know how much is background traffic, and how much is extra gangstalking accompaniment. I had time to go to the bookstore, and had my stalkers ahead of me there, and coursing around. Ditto for the skunk-trip to the shoe repair shop; even stalkers standing around on the street for no seeming reason, still there over the 10 minutes when I returned after finding the shoe repair shop closed this Monday. The perps just love to be all over me when I am exiting my vehicle, especially after a highway drive. And too, pulling a skunk at the same time, that is, finding a business or office is closed or not accessible (aka, dashed expectations). And I find it absolutely galling that somehow, someone knew I was in my vehicle and wanted my parking spot on the street, when it is highly doubtful they would of seen me, as it was the pull-in stall type, where other vehicles obstruct the view from the street.

And they were all over me when I set off after my appointment at the hospital; a vehicle train to trap me where I was to make my first turn, culminating in what seemed like the real perp assholes in uniform; an unmarked brown Suburban with uniformed Fuckwits inside (but not regular police), making a L turn in front of me. I am being facetious, as I don't think the perps have a uniform, any more than a CIA criminal has one, but it does beg the question as to who these mofos were.

Yoga; I didn't see this coming, but then again I am not allowed to think too far in advance, nor anticipate the perps games that I could do so accurately until 2006, when they became capable of dithering my knowledge. Here we are, post return trip from Kelowna, post CT scan, so they poured on the yogis. About 15 of them, and plenty of new cute ones too, plus some semi-regular cute ones. One of the latter wears a two piece outfit, but today she had a new two piece outfit that was smaller than the first one. Presumably a more revealing outfit to get my renewed attention for the same girl. I cannot think of any reason why these surges of yogis show up, and then it boils down to a regular crew, 8 or so.

They had plenty of early yogis attending to arrange themselves in my usual spot and at the front, so I ended up in the SE back corner. Three cute ones in front, and at the last minute they put a larger assed woman in between, even if there was other and more roomy areas she could of placed herself. For some reason of late, the perps like me to do comparisons on asses; this time arranging a larger one in front of three cute ones. Go figure.

09-19-2017
Another significant futility exercise just revealed itself. For 1.5 years I have been making my case for an generalized dopamine deficiency, which includes a SPECT scan that determined ADD (=developmental dopamine deficiency), and a recent urine test that determined dopamine deficiency. I have compiled a list of symptoms that apply to those with a dopamine deficiency. I wrote all this up and gave it to the shrink one week in advance. So today's visit was a mighty disappointment from the get-go when he appeared to not have read any of what I wrote. He went over this material while I was there, and didn't even look at the scans for crissakes, just the written determination. Then it was a long detailed listing of all what happened to me in Seattle when the perps went berserk/overt on me, and the downstream bullshit of being fucked with by shrinks who then illegally kept me in hospital and kept me on dopamine blocking agents. I dumped those mind-debilitating medications the day I got out and got better. How is that for Soviet-style treatment in a supposedly free country? Free we ain't, in the US or Canada.

And because this guy is a careful facts collector, I had to go through all the squalid history of this abuse onset, the head pain brutality, being run all over the place, gangstalking up the asshole etc. while he took notes. Naturally, there wasn't enough time for the whole story, and so this shrink summed up the deal about dopamine deficiency/ADD by saying, "I don't see it there". Well the SPECT scan shows it, and ADD doesn't go away, so what was there to "see"? Never mind that I did 90% of the talking and he asked no ADD diagnostic questions. Thanks a lot perps, another go-nowhere shrink, aka, dopamine treatment obstruction.

As to his determination on the harassment, he says, "why you?". How am I supposed to know, save that the perps have an inordinate interest in dopamine. Anyhow, there were plenty of "stop there" during my revelations, which tells me he didn't want to know a whole lot about specific details. So here we go again; a big nothing over dopamine treatment, exactly what I predicted months ago, and I waited six months for this. Sure, another appointment is scheduled in December, but today's opening gambit tells me the whole deal is over. Am I fucking pissed or what?

Dopamine is a hormone of significant and wide influence, and doctors and endocrinologists just don't/won't get it. (Here are some links; dopamine1 (easy read, 4 pp), dopamine2 (longer read, 11pp), dopamine3 (technical read, 33pp). Why have I been beating my head at this wall, or more like, led to this place, for over 20 years, and to no avail? When I first identified I had ADD from clinical books, and lectures from doctors, four shrinks in succession blew me off. Finally, I got the SPECT scan in 2001 which came back exactly with what I told them, and I took the appropriate medications (new doctor) and felt much, much better. That is, until 04-2002 when the perps went berserk/overt and outed themselves with their abusive and psychopathic harassment, which still continues to this day, though not as intense as then. If it hadn't been for the recent prostate cancer and urinary issues (both mediated by dopamine), I never would of gone to any shrink. This entire episode has been another big, very big, nothing. One that has huge medical ramifications for the next 20 years, and has already manifested itself in part by way of prostate cancer. Thanks assholes.

Onto small nothings; I see my "fickle friend" (co-worker from last year, 2016) was texting, and says we can meet sometime in October in Kelowna (one hour drive away), as he travels there for his physiotherapy. I will be there on a daily basis then too. So WTF; we both live in Penticton, and now this lame-assed excuse to meet in another city comes up in a month's time? For the record, I helped him for six weekends to take him shopping as he was crippled from knee surgery, having split his knee cap in May. (And I have done nothing to piss him off). We always have lively conversations, and got along well as co-workers in 2016, and have similar dispositions and intellectual curiosities. Anyhow, more of the same, from the same quarter, disappointing as it is. As an aside, the above mentioned shrink found the term "fickle friend" hilarious. Unexpectedly humorous I am, or perhaps, he was letting on he has a sense of humor. Go figure.

Saw Amy Helm tonight; she and her very capable band put on a good show. I didn't get the waitress banging me into me 4x like last time, though I was in a different seat against the far wall. Cindy Cashdollar was on steel guitar, and was the consummate supporting musician.  I needed a reprieve from the disastrous shrink visit earlier, and the show more than served the purpose.

09-20-2017
I had my 1-5 tooth extracted this morning, as it was broken, plus some X-rays on the other side where another (similar) problem seems to be brewing. And were there enough masers floating around the whole time, this time the small black dot variety that likes to arrive and stay on top (or between) of a feature, say corner of the lamp, edge of the pillar for the lamp etc. And plenty of fleeting plasma beams, projecting from the linear features of the room mostly, e.g. window frame, vertical wall edge etc. Nothing new to me when I go to any medical facility and sit down on the chair. And what is with the dentist? She doesn't set up the next appointment/referral and I had to ask the dental assistant all the particulars and get it set up. Having a go-between for information transfer seems to be a big deal for the perps for whatever reason, as is any facet related to acquiring knowledge, retaining knowledge, deploying knowledge etc. A significant component of the objectives of what they seem to be after for whatever reason.

09-21-2017
A 11 hour sleep for whatever reason, with fitful awake time as well. My daughter has now, after 15 months, acknowledged my prostate cancer and is encouraging me to look after myself and says that these treatments have a high rate of success. I hope so too. But the question remains as to why she started this dialog when I told her on the first day of my biopsy result, that I had prostate cancer? And coincidentally, it was her birthday, and we were in communication because I was wishing her well, via phone call. Cynically, I would call this a "two-fer"; in this case a communication event that served two purposes, for  birthday greetings and my significant health news. For that, it takes the perps to manage events IMHO, as they seem to manage me down to the last microsecond.

I finally figured out why the perps want to jump on my ass whenever I complete something; one gets a small dopamine surge just then, satiating the mid-brain reward center. Often, the perps will delay completion as things "happen" to go wrong, or in the case of working for employers, they will move me to another task so someone else gets to complete what I was working on. And lest you think it is just me in all this, the root cause of addictions is about creating a dopamine surge. In some cases you don't have enough, or in other cases the dopamine is broken down too fast. There may be other variations too. Soo... what is going on out there that a massive amount of the human race has addictions, and are they too being covertly monitored or surveilled for dopaminergic dysfunction? And why is the clinical community, save a few players who do it right with an assist from brain imaging technologies, got their heads in the sand? (Putting it politely).

09-22-2017
Fall officially begins today, which means the fall equinox. Though, with the 15-20C daily temperatures of late, it seems fall began two weeks ago. With no vineyard work on, the cancer treatments soon, I am being kept in employment limbo. Even the picking at the two vineyards seems to getting done by imported crews from the wineries, rather than the minions who got it into shape all growing season, from pruning to present.

09-23-2017
Saturday, and a dick all day it was, save going to the farmer's market in the morning to get fresh salad vegetable.

09-24-2017
Sunday, and I got out for a hike, along the trail that was used for an obstacle course competition yesterday. So hundreds of trail runners were on this trail yesterday. No big deal, and who knows how all this fits in the perp harassment scheme.

Dropped in at my former employer of 2012-2015 on the way back. I haven't seen any particular major capital improvements at his vineyard and small winery that might have come his way as a possible reward, a rare exception in the trail of largesse that seems to follow me, even before the harassment began 04-2002. All was well, sort of; his 62 y.o younger wife want to move to an assisted living arrangement, far removed from running a 5 acre vineyard and a small winery. She is in reasonable health, is able bodied and all, so I don't get it.

And I see by way of email that the person who is handling my malfunctioning stereo amplifier is claiming that there is nothing wrong with it. He says its the sources or cables or both. I just ran all three sources through my ancient headphone amplifier and all three work fine, keeping the same source-cabling. So it would seem that the perps are up to their usual shit again; fucking the gear, having it sent back, and then no problem is found. Then it gets returned to me, and I continue to have the same problems. Not that this person is any bit keen to really find out; not a phone call or anything. That is what one gets in this new world of online sales, though brick and mortar sales outlets don't guarantee diligent service either.

Or maybe it is a total jerkaround to force me back to headphone listening again, something they did from 2005 to 2016. For all the crap I have been through over stereo amplifiers, I don't get it. They screwed with my 15 y.o YBA amplifier such that it wasn't working properly, and after it was returned from the Chicago repair depot, it still wasn't working. I was livid. Then I had to sent it back again, and four months later, it was finally working again. I was so pissed with this fuckery over an older amp, I got a new one. (After checking out that it gets fixed back at the factory). And lo, it is this new one (now one year old) that isn't working. So just what is it about music sources, stereo amplifiers, speakers, headphones, cables, and cable colors and materials that so interests the perps that they continue a 15 year long sabotage assault on all of this? And when will they be done? I reckon they have another 15 years of combinations and permutations to run through in all of this.

They pulled this shit in 2002 in Seattle when I purchased a combination gauss-electrical meter only the electrical signal detector worked fine, so I sent it back. They pronounced it all working, and sent it back to me. By then, all kinds of things were going wrong, as well as the debilitating head pains, and I figured then, as now, it was a perp stunt. Of course I wanted the gaussmeter function the most as it seemed the nature of the harassment was magnetic. (For example, I could get relief from the pain beaming with headphones on, or in my vehicle). When when I moved the meter's switch to gauss, the reading blanked out. I ended up renting an industrial gaussmeter from California and got readings of 180-200 gauss in my apartment 13 stories up. Why the perps put me through all that I have no idea, but they like to have objects come from different geographic locations and have them returned. I returned the gaussmeter to the rental agency, but I will never, ever, forget the intense head pounding pain that came on while at the courier's counter while they did all the paper work, and I paid them. (A financial transaction note, another major perp Fuckover moment).

Enough for a week, and it seems just too dull to do daily blogs like I did back in the unemployed years they kept me in.

Bottle Bashing

06-15-2015
I was on the bottling line today, that is, inside the mobile trailer and either "dumping glass", (unloading) or packing the filled bottles in the empty cases from the unloading. And of course, many occasions of glass bottles bashing each other, empty of filled. And do the perps ever love to create vibrations and noise from ceramics of glass banging on something. All the better if it is bottle-to-bottle etc.

The unloading is the more precarious task. The cases of boxes are upside down on a pallet load, and it is my job to ensure no bottles fall out and then at the feed point of the bottling line, pull up on the box to then have the 12 bottles on their bases and then ease them onto the 5" wide conveyor and making sure they all are standing up. And through the day, I lost four, which somehow eluded my detection at the outset and were on the ground when I first saw them. Funny how that happens, consistently being foiled and only noticing when it is too late. Though, given the generalized perp adversity, I should be thankful it wasn't four cases worth that ended up on the floor. Depending on the pallet loading, some cases are high and at the limit of my reach, and someone else usually helps to make them available. And of course, keeping one's hands on the bottom to prevent unexpected unloading.

On the case packing, the assholes pulled another of their mindfulness sabotage games, having me (inexplicably) two partially filled cases down the line, which was caught by the case sealing and labelling twosome. Never, in my entire life, save the last time doing this about a month ago, have I ever incompletely fulfilled my production line duties, from daffodil bulbs, potatoes, carrots, and tree seedlings. And of course I can count on the perps for these esoteric agricultural jobs, as I hadn't done any of the like until the assholes arrived in a fantastic display of high tech wizardry in my Seattle apartment in 04-2002.

On the yoga front, and all those spinal twists and turns, Star Girl made a now rare appearence and scooped my usual mat placement. She would of known that too, as she was once a regular and her usual mat location was beside the mirrors on the SW corner. (On mirror blocking duty seemingly). She arrived the same time as me, and got out of her vehicle adroitly timed to tail me into the building. Though she did deign to say "hello" in the parking lot, a first.


In the recent games of putting an unnatural red haired woman in my presence, the perps were on top of it. An unnatural red hair dye job was there for the first time, aided in the vile red show by her day-glo fuschia colored top. And to add more from the Unfavaored list, she had a pot belly and tattoos.

As always, I haven't really figured out what the yoga practice/gangstalk rotation is exactly, but who know what is going on with all those spinal twists the perps love so very much. Though, the attractive pixie instructor has been a constant.

06-16-2015
Still on bottling wine today, and "somehow: I dropped a single bottle, and never saw its trajectory until it hit my foot, to then break on the concrete below the bottling trailer, a 5" gap that wasn't there yesterday, per pallet placement. Thankfully that was the only one, and no case loads of dropped bottles,

A rash of box inserts dropping off today; those cardboard separators that separate each bottle in a cardboard case of 12. There was some 20, when ordinarily  there maybe less than five. Some cases had a gash or cut on them, also needing extra attention to get repaired. And lo, a case with a gash AND a box insert drop out "happened" together, immediately following a case with a gash.

The girl with the (natural) red hair and the orange pack came today, coming for a few days at a time like the last bottling.

06-17-2015
Onto vineyard work, with the bottling crew/noise working in the background. I was tucking, an ongoing job for the next three weeks I reckon. Tucking in placing the shoots, now 3' long or more, in between the horizontal trellis wires so they take on a vertical positioning, and that the fruit is grown in a predictable place on the vine.

At the end of day I dropped in on the alterations lady, as my last purchase PI tights had to be altered for length. And lo, if it wasn't a skunk jog.  A sign on the door, "Sorry...will be back in 20 minutes" message on the door, no doubt to play into the games of dashed expectations the assholes love so very much.

After two weeks of the PC headphones not working from Amazon, suddenly they work. Still no progress on getting the PC to play through a known device (disc player), which was working for all of a few days until it suddenly stopped. Seems to be problem for others on the web, trying all manner of obscure utilities.

06-18-2015
Skunked again on picking up my alterations ; "Back in 20 minutes". I have never had this problem with this particular dressmaker until this week, and it has erupted two days in succession.

Tucking vines in the vineyard, and a new guy,18 yo. or so, for temporary help in the vineyard. he did the scared shitless/ignore me act once introductions were over. Or at best, grunting as a form of acknowledgement, but not looking at me. Later he told me he did a good job and will be back tomorrow.


An earthquake this evening; a big boom, shook this detached house twice, and that was it, this was after my in-chair sleep, and I was active in the kitchen at the time. A rare instance when the assholes didn't have exam studying, on-the-phone events arranged simultaneously.

06-19-2015
Tucking in the vineyard all day, good sunny hot weather, which I now have come to like, ever since 2010 when the perps changed my temperature tolerance level, now at the point that is in excess of 40C.

After work on the errands shuttle, two strikeouts; the wretched alterations lady had that infernal sign up again, "Back in 20 minutes.." while the pit lamping (headlights on) mega dude with the big tattoos on his sizable arms and long hair strangely sat in his vehicle for the two minutes it took to park, walk to the store front, find it was closed (temporarily apparently) and for me to return to my vehicle and drive off, infuriated yet again, having three strikeouts in one week. The store is only open four days a week, and for three of them I was skunked. The Dashed Expectations theme again.

And if that weren't enough, I drove to the shoe maker to see about my boots that were delaminating in the sole, for the third time. Why the Fuckwit didn't repair all of the sole and not just the heels is beyond me, as he claims he fixes Chinese made boots and sells Canadian ones. I have only two pairs of work boots and he has the other pair as well, as they need to be re-soled. And lo, if he doesn't finish early on Fridays, as his hours indicated that he finishes up at 1600h on Fridays. Two skunks in succession, and we know who likes to pull that stunt don't we?

 Then off to get my vehicle fueled up, which is strangely going through a lot of gasoline and yet is driven fewer miles.

My debit card got messed up at the pump and I had to go inside to have it rest. After fueling the printer wouldn't print my receipt. On top of that the pump was extraordinarily slow, taking 2x as long. And have I mentioned how much the perps like to noisestalk or otherwise sabotage fuel transfers?

06-21-2014
Summer Solstice and Fathers Day all rolled into one. This being a Sunday, and as of Saturday evening, I hadn't received any mail, thinking I might get a card from my daughter for the second time ever. Weekly mail delivery is Mon. to Friday only, so I figured no card. But no, the landlord held my mail back and brought the envelope Sunday morning, placing it at the door for crissakes. Artful withholding of my mail to cause an incorrect notion to ponder. Haven't we done this a few hundred times or more, as in many hundreds of like events in any given year? Just the usual FUD-dery, as in Doubt this time. Or perhaps FUDE, as in E for Erroneous determination.

I went for a hike to a closer location, as both my heavy duty boots are out of action. The shoemaker has one pair that is there for new soles, and the other pair has the sole coming off in places on account of his earlier partial repairs that didn't last, entirely predictable IMHO.

This was meant to be a real trail, low grade (below 20%), as I was hiking in my runners. It was not to be, as the bull was at the gate, where the cattle guard is. Like WTF, this is inside a provincial park, and two kilometers closer than the last bull event of two years ago, when I had to abort a hike because of a threatening bull. A hiking couple arrived nearby, and told me there was a backwoods trail up the side hill, and the bull didn't bother them as it was in the opposite direction, and steep, some 80+%. I took this "route", as it was a scrambling trail with loose scree rock. So it would seem this entire adverse event was to get me hiking on difficult terrain in running shoes, which I never, ever use for rough ground. A total piss off, as I now had to negotiate difficult terrain in inappropriate footwear. And we know who exploits new situations don't we? Especially if it has something to do with one's balance.

I scrambled up enough terrain to find a rocky ledge to then get tanning for a few hours.

06-23-2014
Apologies for not getting this posted online two days ago, keeping to a weekly format, but I got hit with a baby ant invasion in the kitchen and all the duress that goes with cleaning it up.

Eye Stinging

05-26-2015
Tuesday, and the start of a new blog postings week. Yesterday's yoga was back with the effervescent pixie instructor, always a kind sight to the eyes, and ever helpful and positive. As mentioned many times, the spine bending and twisting in yoga seems to be paramount to the perp's objectives, and so a little precis below on the arranged acts in yesterday's yoga class.

The tall girl was placed next to me, 4' away on the W; she seems to be some kind of anchor or I don't know what. I don't find her attractive nor unattractive, save her proficiency in yoga, far better than mine.

A new blonde girl 5' away to the E; definitely more alluring, mostly because she was new and her hair strategically fell over her face to prevent me from seeing her in a single look.

One other male, who should of been in a beginners class, so pathetic was he, thankfully mostly obstructed by other yogis.

About 12 yogis in the room, not crowded, but borderline full. No clashing hands or other inter-mat.neighbor contact.

Other stuff in the day;
an onset of intense eye stinging at work in the vineyard, came on for an hour at least, and was fairly debilitating and infuriating. I get these every now and then, and they make no sense whatsoever, save teleportational abuse. Or if you prefer, action-at-a-distance fuckery. The excuse of sun block streaming down my forehead into my eyes does not apply, as I never put sunblock there, having learned of this trick some 8 years ago.

I was busy yesterday and today on shoot thinning, and for once, seem to be getting it done with some reasonable speed, per employers perspective, even if it is all about, "getting it done" mode. It seems that the employer lapses into an expectation that a task is to be "done" once assigned; that is, there is a impatiences component.

Yesterday in the vineyard, some ball-cap-backwards dude comes from nowhere, and from 10' away says "hi". I reply "hi", being surprised that he was there and got that close without me hearing anything. Then he looks at the ground and walks toward me some 5', and I was wondering what he was coming at me for. Then he stops, and says, "I am looking for a job". To which I say, "there is none here at this vineyard", and he says "thanks", turns around and heads back in the direction from which he came. Like WTF; why would any sane person do this? He did nothing to say what kind of job, and didn't elaborate on his vineyard tending (or other) skills, assuming that was what this episode was about.

05-27-2015
I finished 2.5 days of shoot thinning at long last; though it seems that the vine shoots are coming in new as soon as my back is turned. I review my work of the previous week and it seems that I wasn't there.

05-29-2015
Now onto tucking the vine shoots into the space between the posts, held in by the trellis wires. On most vineyards, the trellis wires are removable and the placement of the wire can be used to tuck a 20' section (between posts) in one pass. The time consuming alternative is to tuck each shoot in, one by one.

05-30-2015
Saturday, and the plan was to go back to work to expedite tucking at this particular phase of vine shoot growth. Though, a text message from the boss lady indicated that I wasn't to come to work as they are doing spraying. I had my haircut and all the usual subsequent perp extra attention; gangstalking, both ambulatory and vehicular when driving.

I got hit with a 2 hour nap attack, starting at 1100h. Again, no sleep deficit, and before all this abusive insanity broke in 04-2002, I NEVER, EVER needed a nap at that time of day.

A familiar nap attack onset ramp up too. Feeling a little sleepy, but not a lot, they have me do some web surfing first, and then it builds up to the point I have a micro-nap, my head falling on my chest and snapping me awake. After a few of those, then the overwhelming urge to lie down, which cannot be countered by any means that I know. For these mid day naps all I want at most is an hour, so what they do is wake me after an hour, have me look at the clock, but keeping me prone, and then the next thing is that it is two hours (or more). And with naps over an hour I feel totaled, fogged and clogged, which then sets the mood for the rest of the day.

And what is with app downloads from Google Play? They don't come to the desk top now, and they don't come to the phone, and there is no choice as to download destination, and so the app goes nowhere. Or at least, until I complain about it.

One of my long standing beefs with Windows is finding where the desktop download went to. So it seems that someone must know about it, and has now exploited the download destination FUD to make it even more obscure and isn't too fussed about the user inconvenience of looking for it, and even sending emails to the support desk.

I did some tanning outside on the lawn beside my place, this being a backyard nanny suite. Replete with vehicular noise, save the odd aircraft. The hot-rod muffler noise, the HD motorcycle noise etc. with one following the next. I was allowed to at least block my ears, but the perps have methods to drive the noise through all the same. Very often, with my ears plugged and hearing noise coming through, I lift my fingers from my ears and lo, the apparent noise has suddenly changed its characteristics and is still at the same volume level.

And what is it about making plans the perps must mess with? I had planned to take the glass bottles to the recycle plant, and then the above mentioned nap attack took precedence. Then lunch, then tanning outside and now I get reminded that I forgot, after the closing time of the recycle plant. Thanks a bunch.

And what is it about the perps and their need to have people close in on me unnoticed at first? Where I had my hair cut, I was the only customer among five stations. I accept the offer to get my hair washed, and vacate my chair at the work station to get it washed. Not only was there an intense parade while I was there, (e.g. tattoos, unnatural hair colors, big girls etc.), when I returned to the work station, there were three others getting their hair cut, all arranged around me. Like WTF; all three of them declined to get their hair washed it would seem, and all three arrived there within the three minutes that I had vacated my chair.

Ditto for yoga earlier; I do a back stretch before class had begun, doing exercises to warm up. There was hardly any other yogis in the room, though mats were down, and in the high strangeness of the yoga-stalk, they come in, place their mats and take off for some reason. I come out of the stretch, and do a counter stretch. I try this back stretch again, head pointed backwards and upside down and not monitoring my proximity, and when I come out of it all (four, inside of two minutes) my mat neighbors are at their mats. All too strange, these arranged proximity fill-ins.

I best get this posted, even if a short posting as I don't want this to become a month long report.

Night Time Ructions

04-21-2015
And why, oh why did the perps start the smoke alarm in the night, around 0300h? No, it wasn't a full blown alarm, but a chirp every 20 seconds to indicate that the battery was low. Finally I had to get up and deal with it, and lo, if they didn't screw me around with getting a spare battery and finding it too was way overdue, as in March 2012.After I put it in and it chirped too of course. And why did they keep me awake or else in a very light sleep until getting up?

Another "stoned" morning, feeling like I was de-realized and nothing was too important, as in limited amygdala response.

At the vineyard/winery it was bottling again today; tasks are unloading the empty bottles and feeding the machine, as it can do about 2400 bottles an hour, placing the filled bottles in the just emptied boxes, and lastly, labeling and stacking the boxes of full wines onto a pallet. Plenty enough to do. The asshole perps blanked me out and had me "forget" to load my 6 bottles in the case, all for the boss to find out. Artfully, they pulled this one in the very first four cases before things got very busy.

04-22-2015
The aftermath of cleaning up bottling, and taking things to the dump. A stack of beat up pallets was dropped off at the woodpile, more refuse, and finally the recyclables. In the latter case it was my second trip there, and they made sure there was large commercial vehicles posted around me, even if it is the public (non-commercial) recycling area. Also a few posing dudes to keep up the dude-stalk show, aka gut-stalk, fugly sloppy shorts-stalk etc.

Then wine case flipping for the afternoon; they need to be cork up for the first day after bottling for the cork to recover to full size, then flipped for the cork to remain moist during storage.

04-23-2015
Ditto on the previous day; case flipping and a garbage run.

On case flipping I had a helper, a red headed female with no chin, nice smile, and was reasonably social, but as always, in a measured way and replete with the now standard conversational drop-outs where it seems that she would reply but strangely doesn't. , and has an orange pack. covers up the red hair mostly with a ball cap. And when she first arrived she had a fugly orange and white backpack, and too, the orange backpack color wasn't too different than her hair.

A Naramata Bench wineries meeting after work. A soil scientist spoke about the glacial origins of the Okanagan Valley, and the resultant surficial geology. Imagine, 9000' of glacial ice sitting overhead at one time. It caused me to ponder if the perps were studying the planet then, over 50 million years ago, and in the "blink of a geological eye", this snow and ice cover warmed up melted to form the oceans we currently know. The suggestion of a sudden catastrophic event, even if a geologic event, was the hinting phrase.


As why are they senselessly repaving on the commute route? At least four patches in each lane some 60-120' long, ground down and then paved over in a day or two.Yes, I drove over the lower ground out surface, and too, I was re-routed to the alternate lane on some trips, and of course, now these repaved patches that didn't need a new surface. The perps have a long history of digging up the ground I walk on, as well as the road surfaces I drove over.

What is with outfits that don't respond to my emails of late; three in a week, one of them I re-sent the first email and still no response. Respectful inquiries and yet nada.

And the first downloaded CD in 8 weeks or longer, and lo, if it isn't a red headed artist, a folkie-rocker from SK, Canada. Not a coincidence given that nothing in my existence is a coincidence. And a long hiatus of former regular activity, paid music downloading and/or sample listening, is straight out of the perp abuse/harassment book. In fact, it is a hallmark perp planning.


Back in 2002, some months before the perps went berserk/overt, I was, and still am mostly, a fan of another red headed musician from Seattle where I lived. She (initials, NC) has since moved to Illinois and is now widely known. Names not mentioned to get by the the search troving software and all the rest of the social media associations that might entail. And as redheads figure prominently in the Unfavored demographic groups, it does cause me to ponder just what it is that causes the perps to arrange likeable red headed female musicians every so often?

Another redheaded female blues artist, one of my faves going back to 1974 with the album "Give It Up" has also figured prominently in my musical tastes. It is the strangest thing though, as she wasn't red-headed then, and somehow became so. Another fine coincidence. What angle to the perps present to the artist, assuming this even occurs and they don't manipulate everything from their control rooms; "we will ensure you become a famous blues player as long as you agree to have (or create) red hair". Something like that. Is there some psychic component of the vocals that is different between  redheads versus blondes? And is it different if the hair color is from a dye or a natural organic pigmentation?

04-24-2015
A Friday, but a day off as I will be working both days of the weekend at a Traffic Control Person course.

The perps shut me out of the walk-in clinic again, with a 10 long line of dudes at the door just prior to opening at 0900h. This is the third such obstruction/protracted wait stunt they have pulled at this place in the last two weeks. All I want is to get a doctor's evaluation on some low values of my last blood test, and I have to go through this cattle parade to get in. Forget it; when I got in to see about blood test, why, it was this very same time of day and there wasn't a line up. Now, line ups at the beginning and end of day, all to thwart me in this long running game the perps like to arrange, aka Dashed Expectations. And of course the management obliges in that there are no reservations, strictly walk-in, unlike any walk-in clinic I have known in the past 15 years.

A rain sprinkle was started up as I just finished putting the laundry to dry outside. So... I bring it all in for 30 minutes or so and put it outside again. The perps get no end of variations on laundry drying; inside, outside, some of each, with sun, with wind etc. This is addition to the towels and cottons I usually dry in the dryer at the laundromat.

I got nailed for a 2.5 nap attack this afternoon. just when I was recovered and wanted to finish my list of inspection items onh  my vehicle, why, a sprinkling rain came on. So I pulled my outside drying laundry inside and then attended to it to wait out the rain. (They tell me that I am fortunate the rain wasn't arranged while I was sleeping and the laundry drying outside.)

Later, the rain was over and I checked the oil and it was fine. The assholes screwed me into not looking at it last year and had me go to Kelowna and back down two quarts of oil. I was fucking pissed as I NEVER, EVER allowed this to occur in all my prior 40 years of motoring. I was fastidious enough about vehicle care that I had a repair/inspect journal which had mileage and associated details of what got done when and at what mileage. Now, the assholes won't let me do this or keep a repair journal in the vehicle. I must rely on receipts kept in my residence for crissakes. What purpose does that serve?

04-28-2015
Finally I get to complete this posting after two full days of course, evening time studying and yoga last night.

When I got parked, there was a dude standing at the pay machine, and then at each side of his vehicle for some strange reason. And then he comes up to me still seated and asks me where a certain building is. I pull out the map I had supplied to me and tell him, and he was glad for that it seemed.

The course had a capped class size of 14, and all the usual gangstalk culprits. There was the three jocular males behind me who found their own jokes soooo.. funny, and just had to thump the shared (with me) table. If that weren't enough, two of three had a coughing problem that would come and go. Which played into someone else from across the room who also had a coughing problem, sometimes as if in a tag team. At one point I got a shot of a beam or something in my R eye while they were coughing in stereo.

There was all round snuffling and sneezing among the class, the "usual" for public locations now. There was masers and plasma beams around the projector, screen and instructor, 60+ y.o white haired male who I came to respect as he knew his material, and was an authentic person. No curious smiles or other quirky stuff.

My table mate seemed to know I needed to see his orange day-glo runners on his feet being shuffled so I could pick them up in my peripheral vision from below. The perps cannot get enough of that, testing my vision with sudden moves and the like from below. The all-time stunt in this regard was when they had a short Walmart employee almost walk into me, as if she was about to head butt me in the chest.

The strange 60+ y.o dude with the micro-ponytail day on the first day looked totally out of place, and all the more so the second day when he let his hair down. And most strangely, didn't show up for the afternoon practical session, and thereby ensuring he was ineligible to receive a certificate.

A major blonde Fat Girl next to me, and as it "happened", she was with her mother who was in the business. She did flutter her eyes at me once, one of those "chance" things as she was picking something off the floor and I was looking down. Funny how that "happens".

And it was a very special perp event indeed with respect to a pair of safety boots that I had acquired in 2008 when there was a purported construction boom on and the farm worker pals had encouraged me to get a pair. I duly did, and lo, the construction jobs all dried up three weeks later and I never had a reason to wear them since. I never got anywhere with construction jobs for all the perps were promoting it back then. And in concert with the perps and their unrelenting fetish over footwear, they had me with a seven year old pair of unworn new boots on the asphalt road surface directing traffic around a road obstruction as part of a practical training exercise. And lo, if one of the jocular males, who is in the road construction business didn't happen to have a pair of new boots from astore with the tags still on them, and wore them that way for the four hour exercise. Another fine coincidence.

Anyhow, enough for a week and to get this posted.