Sloppy Snow

...sloppy snow, sloppy (or more like, slack) blog author...

My excuse is that I am power viewing Unsolved Mysteries, all 12 seasons on Prime. I usually catch a couple of episodes an evening and that is it for available time, such as for writing blogs. Though I must admit the comments on some of the Zero Hedge stories are quite entertaining and suit my political perspective to some extent. Plenty of shills and trolls though, and other acts promoting something irrelevant. Algorithms only go so far in being able to moderate human opinion.

Though I am coming to think that applying algorithms to apply the law and sentencing is a good idea; there are far too many shits getting away with murder from soft-on-crime judges (or just plain soft), and if they don't, they seem to end up with an inordinately short sentence. Doesn't life imprisonment mean imprisoned for life anymore? Its about time we automated the so-called justice system and quit making excuses for criminality. The only use for the judge would be to review the algorithmic determinations and/or review variances (=-10% only) and any egregious wrong outcomes, maximum of 2 per year. Otherwise, put the mofo in the clink and quit using the excuse that protracted justice is unjust, a ridiculous outcome of the Supremes here in Canada, aka, the "Jordan" decision. And quit using the Jordan decision, (or, if you prefer, the Supreme collusion for justice system sandbagging), as an excuse for the law enforcement to "focus" on violent crimes and ignore the rest. The law is written for a purpose, and as such it is expected to be enforced. More on this and related Unsolved Mystery episodes below.

Though to be fair, Canada isn't alone in its pursuit of degrading the application of the law and keeping the justice system hog-tied with slow processes and ignoring any sensible methods to radically improve throughput. That, along with the wimpy application of the law serves as another avenue to take down Western civilization IMHO. That, along with the immigration problem, another take-down avenue of significant dimension. Call it wilful self-excused incremental cultural and social degradation. FFS, weren't two world wars enough, along with the prior colonial exercises, purges, and other war campaigns of all manner of cultures and countries? ("Only" 203 million dead dead from wars , famines an purges in the 20th Century.) Apparently not enough if you are of TPTB, and have an experimental need to keep churning the human race for whatever nefarious objectives they keep.

Onto the prosaic; I am back in my residence in Penticton, having hustled here (driven) between the snow storms on the mountain passes to aid my landlord in driving them to the Kelowna airport so they don't have to park their vehicle for $15/day for 8 weeks. Well as it "happened", they "forgot" to tell me that I wasn't needed and came up with some lame-assed excuse as to the notion that since they aren't going for 12 weeks the "savings" can be applied to the parking charges. Like shit; when they changed their plans in mid-August from 12 weeks to 8 weeks away they re-affirmed my availability to do the airport driving and pick up, and I replied in the affirmative. So I scurried back from Victoria and took on winter driving earlier than I wanted, and lo, when on my return and asked about the arrangements beforehand, they claimed that they didn't need me. Sure, they saved paying me $200 as promised, but 8 weeks x 7 days/week x $15/day parking and we have a $840 parking bill. Or maybe they found some off-site airport parking, something I could not find when I flew from Kelowna a few years ago. Whatever; they could of told me about the change in plans, but didn't. Normal folk behaving strangely is nothing new since all this abuse and harassment came down 04-2002.

Christmas holidays are done now, thankfully. I did get to see my daughter in my once/year in-person contact, a new-found behavior enforced since this insane abuse-athon came down, as mentioned above. It just pisses me off that the one person who is fairly neutral in this has been largely kept from me, and that includes any kind of meaningful phone or other electronic communication. As an example, I heard from my mother that my daughter went to Mexico in 10-2019 about then, but my daughter never mentioned anything to me before or after. So in other words, the Psychopaths have ensured the degree of closeness is governed down, and with her, like most everyone else, I am largely kept clueless. As for the rest of the family quislings, aka, The First Feral Family, they can go fuck themselves. They were in on the scam/abuse from the get-go and knew of the intense abuse onset (perps gone berserk/overt in 04-2002) at least six years before it came down, and they said nothing. Furthermore, apart from the odd catch and curious statement, (see....) they played dumb and continue to do so. Fuck them all, everyone (daughter excepted, as she likely learned about the coming shit-storm and related fuckery only a year ahead).

 A TI recently commented on the perps' enforced estrangement between my daughter and I, and as one can tell, I am roundly pissed that my daughter has been largely kept from me and that the elephant-in-the-room, this abuse-athon in all it infamy and vileness, is never, ever, mentioned. As for the remainder of the comments, the use of psychiatric measures to contain and experiment on TI's is my experience as well. At least you have come to the personal realization that shrinks are corrupt, if not crazy. As for the remainder of the comments I could not read them as the Pending Comment page truncates the comment and I am deferring to your request to not publish them. (Only then would I be able to see them in full).

One of my Christmas visitation intentions was to find a particular photograph that was in my mother's collection of shoe-boxes. This photograph showed my younger brother at 16 months old in a stroller, myself aged 3-4 y.o, my mother and the unique backdrop of the wintertime street ice statues in Montreal. That would of unequivocally placed the photograph to early 1958 in Montreal. Which is roundly perturbing to me as this would of been my second Montreal stay, and the wintertime ice statues would of been even more vivid in my memory then. My first stay in Montreal was in 1956, and I was beginning to form my first permanent memories, and for the most part, poof they are all gone until back in Victoria in fall of 1959.

So who fucked my out of my recall from 1956 to 1959 while in Montreal for two visits, and other places as well? I know I don't ever forget where I lived anywhere, and here is a four year hole when making formative and vivid memories. As it "happens", I wasn't the only one getting recall deletion in Montreal as child then. Ann Diamond, a Canadian author, (blog also) also details some of these horrors of the McGill University's Allan Memorial Institute, the hospital where Dr. Ewen Cameron conducted his CIA sponsored brain trashing "research" from 1948-1962. She chronicles events in her book, My Cold War (another link). Another book, A Certain Girl seems to be a fictionalized version of her experiences. Also, her podcasts on this topic, and her interactions with another Montreal denizen of considerable note, Leonard Cohen, also in book form, The Man Next Door.

Back to the photograph that I was questing; I took my new flat bed scanner to Victoria on this visit and scanned a number of my mother's photographs, some being her mother's family, going back to the turn of the last century. This particular photograph "somehow" was sitting on a bureau in the spare bedroom where the shoe-boxes of photos where stored, presumably left for me to "find". It was so significant that I took it, and with a few others from my Seattle days of post 04-2002 when the Psychopaths first trashed my apartment and put on other highly invasive and unconventional displays of immobilizing technology, and got them scanned at a office services outfit. I returned my mother's photograph, (which, in hindsight, I should not of bothered with for all her disorganization), and kept the digital version. And what do I discover in my mother's photograph collection? Why, my own Seattle photographs, but not hers that I had put back. Anyhow, I did discover a few other photographs of that era, but none so uniquely definitive as the one that was placed for me to "find". And as it "so happens", the digital versions that I took "somehow" disappeared off this PC, multiple versions of them. Well done assholes; you bait me with the proof and then fuck me out of retaining a copy of it.

And somehow I thought that I had posted this aforementioned definitive photo on this here blog, and yet I cannot find it after manually searching for it.

Another anomaly in my mother's photo collection was the discovery of an envelope that contained a snippet of my daughter's first hair, before the second growth came in. This small memento was kept in my camera bag at the time, and lo, if "somehow" it didn't show up in my mother's photo album. [Re-take; perhaps this envelope was given to my mother by my ex (unbeknownst to me) and is not the envelope that went missing from my camera bag].

01-07-2020
I have been on snow removal duty in the service of my absent landlord, per agreement. But as I have been on a propagation cane collection job in various vineyards, I have had to get up early to attend to snow clearing and then get ready for work. These 0500-0600h snow clearings are in the dark of course, but invariably there is someone with their headlights on and pointed at me from across the street or down the street each snow clearing episode. And often more than one vehicle. Just what is it that so compels the Psychopaths that they need to keep lights on me so often? This habit of theirs was evident since they went berserk/overt in 04-2002 and it has increased all the more in the last six months.

As part of the vine collection job I meet up with others at a nearby car pooling parking lot (about 0700h), and lo, if these trades dudes don't arrive with their vehicles around me, headlights on, and sit there transferring equipment and personnel around for 5 to 10 minutes. Said trades dudes also have ladders on their vehicles, another long running harassment operation prop for unknown reasons. I suppose, with all their attention on me and what vehicle I am in, they need extra coverage/energetic interaction (or whatever) while I am entering another vehicle, or else others climb into mine. They even put some babes dithering around their vehicle in some kind of ride sharing activity, all in keeping with having attractive women as a kind of foil or alternative to dude swarming me.

And the large amount of highway traffic at 0700h in snowy and inclement driving conditions has also been noticed. Again, I suppose if I am traveling with co-workers, riding in their vehicle and later working with them in the vineyard, it is just too good to give up the opportunity to grind me all the more with headlights and other selected energetic disruptions.

I was ice wine picking last week for two days as an Arctic front came in and caused temperatures to get below -8C, the "magic moment" specification for the grapes to be later pressed to extract 35Brix juice. (More like syrup). I worked two vineyards one day, and a full second day, and was roundly tired afterward. I haven't been able to partake in ice wine picking since 2013 due to timing and other issues, so it was nice to pick up some easy cash for my efforts. My crew mates from the cane propagation job were also on these crews, so I suppose it might be considered coverage continuity. And in doing ice wine picking, it is as a "flock", picking together so again, closer than normal proximity to all my picking colleagues.

I also met up with two associates from prior vineyard jobs in the past 5 years; as before, they were friendly and conversant. None of the "don't know you" act that I get so often. And too, it was nice to be a known quantity in a herd of 40 or so.

I was a big fan of Unsolved Mysteries in the 1990's, but I never got to see even half of them due to other evening commitments and events. I have long sought to see the entire series and catch up on the updates, and was glad that Amazon Prime put them on their video offerings. Hence the binge watching of Unsolved Mysteries these past three months, usually no more that two episodes per day. Since I the onset of this abuse-athon and exposure to all manner of unconventional technologies and inflictions, along with seeing a bigger picture out there in terms of human history, I don't view nonfiction shows with the same perspective as I formerly did. Perhaps one could call it a jaundiced perspective after being put through the mill (and continuing) of unconventional abuse. And I have begun to notice some common themes in the more unsavory events, excluding the "Lost Loves" and similar feel-good episodes.

One theme I notice is that the police, charged with investigating the crime, seem in many cases to be reluctant to do a thorough job, particularly with many apparent suicide events, usually disputed by the victim's family. In these, the police just don't want to know, and even the prosecutor jumps in and refuses to re-cast the assigned death as "suspicious" or "homicide", even in light of later information that clearly points to another explanation, often after the grieving family has exhumed the body and had it professionally re-examined.

Often in these cases, the victim seems to signal themselves in advance by doing something peculiar to attract attention, though unrelated to their later demise. In one instance, a young man traveling  by vehicle from Alaska to Washington State through British Columbia, Canada, is stopped at the Alaska-Yukon border because he is carrying a handgun which is not permitted in Canada. (The border officials always ask Americans if they are carrying firearms into Canada, and as he was the son of two medical doctors, surely he would of been better prepared). Said man later ends of dead from a hitchhiker he took on, but even the nature of picking up this person just seems odd in detail, and not filling up at this outpost when it was his intention to do so. With long distances between settlements in northern BC it is imperative that one fill up one's tank. I found there was some discontinuity in the details, and of course, the perpetrator was never found.

In another Unsolved Mysteries episode, a military soldier hangs himself, which "happens" to be three weeks before his good friend at another base also does the same. The story focuses mostly on one of these two apparent suicides, but what I found curious was that it was on a Sunday, and the soldier happened to forget that he was to be on duty that morning and someone from the unit went to his on-base accommodation to inform him that he was required for duty. The soldier was dressed in civilian clothes when he was informed, and said that he would change into uniform and join his unit. He never did, and was later found dead from a self inflicted hanging. It just seems so curious that this soldier with an impeccable record somehow "forgot" to show up for duty that morning, was clearly unprepared when informed, and then suicided. Like as if he wanted to be noticed before he did himself in, a highly unlikely scenario IMHO. For the record, there were many other anomalies that put this apparent suicide in the suspicious column, not just my own perspectives.

Another example of signalling was a victim, who in advance, visits a number of colleagues in the small Colorado town where he lives, and then heads out hiking, and not particularly dressed for the conditions, at about 1600h into the mountains in winter. That is absurd; any winter time hiker would set of early, be well prepared and supply a route to another party. A few years later his body is discovered in the woods.

In at least two other instances of Unsolved Mystery episodes the police seem genuinely reluctant to consider other evidence and testimony related to deaths from satanic abuses. Perhaps nothing new there for those who know more about this particular angle, though it is not one I have known in any way. Perhaps this link (warning:a horrific read) to the goings on in Asheville NC would explain more. You know, just the "usual; members of the judiciary, police, hospital, school system etc. are in on it.

I could do a lengthy TI's analysis of many Unsolved Mysteries episodes from the perspective that "nothing is what it seems", which is where TI's come from, almost by definition. But I shall refrain, as this would be surely an arcane and speculative thread that only TI's would benefit from.

And another online discovery of all things unconventional is this corker of a treatise by Donald Marshall. The gist of story seems credible, though quite unconventional, gruesome and ultimately perturbing; e.g. cloning of humans, alien invasion of humans (body snatching), gladiator fights to the death, etc. Some of the historical speculations are a little off IMHO. And the particular underground military base cannot be far from where I live, or where my brother lives. It is quoted as "five hours from Vancouver" (BC), which places it either near Kamloops or Kelowna (assuming it is driven). The former is at the confluence of the Thompson and Fraser rivers, and becomes the Fraser River from there to tidewater at Vancouver, BC and may explain the incidences of the severed feet showing up on coastal shores.


The theme of cloning humans and the clone's particular inability to have consciousness while the subject (a "real") is awake does seem to play into the Psychpaths nonconsensual human experimentation objectives as I have come to know them as an experimental subject/victim. Specifically the perps' need to noisestalk me (or applying other coincidental intrusive external stimuli, eg. maser balls flying at me) at the very moment of awareness (consciousness) has long been noted. It is also curious that they had me watch Spartacus series recently, having a blood and gore component that I didn't care for, but which is part of these profoundly disturbing regular viewing events of the selected audience at this military base. It brings me back to the film, "They Live", and this select group who live among us who are in the know and are called for at certain times. Though who would of dreamed up this macabre activity theme? Obviously, (to me at least), it is the continuation of the perps' well established need for having life snuffed out while viewed by others, be it entertainment, war or other means, simulated or real. And now, with another parameter, is the life a clone or the original?

So which is it, Kamloops or Kelowna? (you will need to zoom in somehow on the above map; since MS Snip is such a wretched piece of ergonomic obstruction, I could not put geographic markers on. And MS Paint won't save anything any more). The "missing feet" discoveries identified in the above link point to Kamloops by way of these body parts floating down the Fraser River and mixing with the tidewaters surrounding Vancouver Island, both north and south. Though Kelowna has the second most frequent UFO sightings in Canada, a party that doubtless has a huge interest in all this covert and depraved activity. I don't know for sure, but for other experiences I won't get into, I pick the former. And too, one must keep a perspective that this too may all be disinformation.

But, should human clones be a reality, it would serve the purposes of conventionally bound law enforcement organizations to find a heavily decomposed  body a few years later for which the DNA matched the victim/subject's. Hmmm.... a little too out-there to put that on Unsolved Mysteries.

Anyhow, a tour through recent goings on as well as some of my more recent macabre findings and speculations on possible connections. What this blog is about, if it is not recording the slings and arrows of being a TI and all its unconventional experiences, and thereby, perspectives.

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.

What Was the Boss Thinking

10-06-2014
Monday, and always tempered by perp hi-jinx and yoga at the end of the day, which make my week bearable. In the latter instance the darling pixie instructor, so chipper and happy, makes "adjustments" of my (and all others in the class), yoga poses, and has admirable form herself. The lithesome blonde Star Girl, with three ridiculous tattoo stars on her left wrist was on my immediate L again, after been a regular on my R and four mats away at the opposite wall for the prior year. Her lanky and limby form is also something to behold, and there she was in a red tight top and black capris at the counter when I walked in. I see a new ring on her L hand, ring finger, and she did mention a guy's name to the lady at the desk when I came in, so I can figure that out easy enough. Anyhow, besides being a second looker in the class, I really don't find her that interesting, or at least, as the darling pixie instructor. The perps hammer me with imagery and name mention scenarios of the instructor all week, but as mentioned before, she is married and has a family and is not in any way entertained as any romantic interest. I find it interesting that the perps will name and image drop a certain attractive person in mind all week, but not others, say, Star Girl. At least they have my native preferences right.

Seven other women class members in all tonight, three new ones for some reason. No males for whatever reason, though they do arrive for the second class and as usual, like to cluster around my coat and shoes at the coat rack. Full moon tonight, maybe that is what got the perps going silly.

The boss and I pulled the forklift out of the soft ground today, but what a performance. It was stuck at an oblique angle to the driveway direction, and I thought it would be normal to pull it straight back and have me in the forklift to steer it into the middle of the road. But no, he seemed to think that pulling it sideways (90 degrees between the two vehicles) in the opposite direction would do. The tow line was short, and he got the the rear (pulling) tractor forks jammed into the forklift and the tow line tensioned exactly at the same time. So the tow line couldn't be undone, and he didn't have the freedom to move the tractor much. Another one of those, "what was he thinking" moments. Eventually, after doing this sideways shuffle, as in "pull and see what happens", the towline got some slack in it. I took it off and indicated that pulling it straight back would be best and he didn't appreciate that, nor did he seem to have any idea why I would want to add a second length of towline so his tractor forks could clear the towed forklift. I added the second towline anyhow, and lo, if the forklift didn't come free after a tow from the direction the wheels were pointed. Like I said before, I have never met someone so contrary and full of so many self-defeating behaviors/actions as he. I just don't know where he is coming from more often than not.

10-07-2014
Suddenly the grape picking, five acres worth, is on just when I thought it would be next week at least. So.. I was dispatched to pick the Botrytis affected grape bunches, the ones the buyer doesn't want. It was very warm today, and the perps went berserk with harassment fuckery They had me:

•  drop grapes at least 30x today, 
• scrambled me as to what row I was on, 
• invoke other perceptual reverses
• run over a plastic picking bucket by "mistake"
• put my pruners into the trellis wire, attempting to cut the steel wire at least 20x on the day, and
• made me a fumbling wreck for the first two hours, like I never handled pruners before.

And a few vocalized rage-ifications to go with the above. And arranging noise all the time; single engine aircraft, motorcycles, loud mufflers, etc.

I was totally frazzed over the day, not to mention them delaying lunch until 1300h, no mid morning break (as in food intake fuckery), no water intake until the delayed lunch and a colossal crap, non-toilet blocking thankfully, at the end of the day.

And why is it I am only allowed a one time access to my email each of the last two nights? I want to print an attachment to an email and it blows up, dumps me out out of Chrome (the only browser that will display my Yahoo email correctly now), and then Chrome won't restart until the next day.

I was getting back to teenage boy infatuations of a certain female singer with the initials of LR on YouTube, and she was doing a show with an orchestra with three other female singers beside her, and for a particular number, the bubble machine starts up. And just as the singers are beginning the song, LR starts laughing and doubles over and looses all her composure and cannot resume. The orchestra is stopped, and LR mentions "killer bubbles", and the bubble machine gets turned off or moved. They restart the song with the orchestra, and no mention is made as to what was the source of LR's mirth. I didn't think anything more about it, though I wondered why they didn't edit it out. I never thought about this peculiar episode for the rest of the evening. But, it wasn't over; as part of the perturbed sleep pattern running for the last few days, why, the perps wake me up at about 0400h the next morning, and tell me that bubbles had floated up LR's dress, hence her hilarity and the remark. Like WTF; I hadn't thought anything more about it that evening, and would never of done so the next day, but the perps seemed to think I needed to "know" (very possible that it did happen, but how would I know). Just a fleeting example of what passes for "normal" mind abuse, in all its absurdities.

10-08-2014
Alarm clock sabotage in the night, and I checked it twice before going to bed. I got up an hour later, and had no time to do a chest and torso shave this am. It is the day (Wednesday) the cleaning lady comes to clean the vineyard owners house, and as it "happens" 90% of all alarm clock fuckovers are on Wednesdays. Something about those teflon rub strips on the razor insert seems to cause the perps problems.

More picking grapes today, but at least the assholes didn't render me into such a klutz. Maybe only 20 dropped bunches or my pruners. And at least 50% less rage-fications during the day, though they made up for at during dinner preparation when a quarter cup of water suddenly ejected from a plastic bag in the fridge; it was keeping the basil moist and I had no idea that there was that much in there. After that, a few more water messes erupted, and some cooking oil flickings and spillings. The latest perp stunt is to hide a piece of prepared food under the rim of the frypan on the stovetop while the pan is on the burner and cooking the rest of the same food item. This has "happened" at least 10x in the last two weeks, and I am fanatic about crumbs and morsels and not having any around, but somehow they arrive under the frypans' rim.

10-09-2014
A vehicle break-in overnight; a flashlight and two pens were the only apparent stolen item. They put three albums on my seat after finding them in the center console, with the CD's in them no less. It seems they didn't like Basia Bulat, as that was the only artist for all three albums. My player deck was intact, not even touched it would seem, and they didn't even pop the trunk lever to rummage around there. This ruined my timing to visit the blood lab at 0730h, and I had even forgot about it until it was too late.

I had a new swamper/helper at work today, he from Quebec originally, and with major fugly tattoos all over his forearms. Having a do-rag on his head didn't help either in the Unfavored Features department. The perps put on a Sea King helicopter pass today, a Canadian military aircraft that they must of flown from Sidney, near Victoria, where they have a squadron. Like WTF; they fly in a marine aircraft 400 miles inland to "visit" me. I had countless Sea King flypasts when I lived in Victoria from 2003 to 2011.

After work, my swamper needed a lift, so I drove him to Okanagan Falls and dropped him off there. I took Hwy 97 and had an RCMP tail ahead of me, doing the ususal deranged civilian motorist behavior of travelling over the shoulder line, tailgating the vehicle in front (silver grey Honda sedan), and excessive and pointless brakings, presumably to show me his red tail lights.

Tonight, screaming rage shows over Excel and formats blowing up, printing blowing up etc.

A freakshow at the laundry on a rare Thursday evening laundering to prepare for the weekend work.

My email was shut down again on three different browsers, couldn't email the boss' spreadsheet I had spent two hours on.

10-10-2014
The boss took over the "shopping" for winery supplies, and to no surprise as he has been totally avoidant on this topic for the last three weeks when I first put the list together for him. And lo, if he didn't disregard the stated supplier in the list and get "substitute" supplies at the local winery supplies discounter, though I haven't yet seen the wreckage yet to know exactly what he got. Earlier this year he got generic bentonite for fining the wine over my strenuous objections, and lo, if it didn't cost him 80L in wine as it didn't settle fast enough. Besides, he saved himself a whole $10 I reckon. And why do I get afflicted with such short term thinkers time after time, job after job? Never, ever, have I been allowed to work with a disposition-for-action high accomplishment employer, when it is my native workplace disposition and synergistic niche?

10-12-2014
The last day of the major part of the grape harvest today. Plus some of the red grape vines were picked today. The boss pulled another pissy fit over fuck all, but that is not unusual.

And I see that due to email access obstructions, last night and today at work when I had a chance to get online, caused an missed job interview fuck-up. I gave the prospective employer my cell phone number and told them it was the best way to get in contact as I was very busy, and what do they do? Send me two emails that I could not get access to. Funny how that keeps happening, these constant miscues over meeting someone, and in this case it might be the end of my new job prospects.

And of course, all day today, the perps kept feeding me notions of new job possibilities and exiting the present liars/fools/per-worsity-club. And as of this evening, I don't know if that possibility is open, as they seem not to be responding in the evenings and won't phone me, when I had my phone on me all day and the carrier did NOT take down the network like they did two years ago at harvest time.

To keep this as a regular weekly event, I will post this tonight, and detail the follow-on events in the next posting.

Hot Monday

06-30-2014
Not a bad Monday; vineyard work in the hot weather and then yoga from the darling pixie instructor. And she does pose adjustments too. But for some strange reason they loaded the E side of the room with at least four women ahead of me, which is where I normally place my mat. (Usually I go 15 minutes early, but these ladies all beat me to the classroom for some (organized) reason). So..., I take the W side next to mirrors that they normally block, and got to see myself doing poses without peeking around someone's head or whatever. And my normal immediate R side mat neighbor, a woman in a lime green (yuk) top "joined me" by being my immediate L side neighbor for this inaugural yogic switcheroo. All of which is not a big deal IMHO, but it does make me wonder what is happening at Perp HQ where they decide things like this, and ponder all things anisotropic [defn; has different physical properties in different directions .e.g. wood -end grain splits easily with an axe, but won't split readily transverse to the grain].

Not my problem, so why is it that I get to wear this abusive insanity (theirs) all day long for 12 years.

I recently finished reading three books by Dr. John C. Lilly; the Mind of the Dolphin, The Center of the Cyclone and The Scientist, a Novel Autobiography. I didn't get any hint of how he arrived at his perspectives on ECCO (Earth Coincidence Control Organization, explore here),

"There exists a Cosmic Control Center (C.C.C.) with a Galactic substation called Galactic Coincidence Control (G.C.C.). Within which is the Solar System Control Unit (S.S.C.U.), within which is the Earth Coincidence Control Office (E.C.C.O.). The assignments of responsibilities from the top to the bottom of this system of control is by a set of regulations, which translated by E.C.C.O. for humans is somewhat as follows..." 

Perhaps there is more to reading to be done. There is no question he was in contact with Beings that had the ability to create events, and it seems Lilly's isolation tanks and LSD and ketamine trips also served his masters.

07-01-2014
Canada Day today and it approximates July 04 in America. Off to do vineyard work at the part time place as the regular one won't let me work on this statutory holiday.

Serious amount of contrails today, often replicating lines of the mountains, and of the overhead power lines, faking me out as to what line is what when I get suddenly directed to look up for no comprehend-able reason.

07-03-2014
I got my PC upgraded (sort of), as it was converted from a tower (vertical motherboard and orientation) to a rack mount (horizontal motherboard orientation). The oddly stuttering Quebecquois PC technician also fixed up my Windows as it had viruses on it, which I did not know about. He told me that old versions of Java are exploited as they are built to bypass normal system security. Great, what we all need is more PC invasions. It was a $500 tab, including a new case, a new CPU fan, and all the other taxes etc. I have to say, this box runs a whole lot more faster than it did before. And for some reason, the media player sounds a whole lot better.

And it was a major vehicular gangstalking event once I picked up the PC; back in 2010 it was the same when I got all new components put into the above mentioned tower.

07-05-2014
More vineyard work on the weekend; two jobs that blew in, as in increased in size, one after the other.

Still the ambulance gangstalking today, a Saturday, third successive day of it. They are white and red vehicles and are standardized for this entire province. I don't know why they put abulances on, save to complement the phalanx of red vehicles, and white vehicles (many of which are the white trades vans with ladders on top),  I get in droves as part of the extra intense vehicular gangstalking.

07-06-2014
I am 60 y.o today, and look 35-ish owing to perp machinations in manipulating my facial characteristics and removing lines from my face, especially around my eyes. I have more grey hairs than I had at 35, and a thinner head of hair on top, and about half of my beard (shaved every day) is grey as well, but other than that, I look extraordinary young for 60.

As usual, no one says anything, save twice, and no on in my (First Feral) family says squat about how obviously young I look.

I spent the day working a weekend job, tucking vines. I got soaked by a sudden rain storm at the W end of two sequential rows of vines, about two hours apart. And as mentioned often, anytime I change directions, say working a row of vines, or whatever the crop is, I get extra gangstalking attention as well as getting screwed into cutting the wrong cane and becoming totally incensed by this neural manipulation incursion for seeming gratuitous abusive reasons.

07-07-2014
Monday, yoga, and lo, if the other male didn't take my spot I had last week (per above), as I was displaced by an early cluster of four class members then. Not tonight at about the same time, I was the first into the practice room and my parking lot attendant/stalker trailed me in shortly after. She was sitting in her car when I arrived, then got out when I was getting out of mine, killed some time in the lobby looking at the clothes on sale, and then tailed me into the room and set up her mat 6' from me on my right, displaced backwards by some two feet so she had to look around me to see the instructor then entire class. Go figure. Maybe it was her deep brown tan on her back I was meant to admire, but nothing much to look at, unlike the darling pixie instructor.

And a feature from past yoga classes in Victoria was when someone left early, about 3/4 through is now erupting at these classes. Someone tonight departed early, and at least four such events in the last two months has started up.

Earlier today, after work and before yoga class, I paid my $15.7k back payments on my disability (ahem) income. I kept the disability income going after I started vineyard work in 04-2012, and I kept forgetting (read, mind controlled state) until 04-2014 when I cancelled it owing to some mind-fuck and orchestrated events to panic me into stopping it. Why it went on for so long and then to be shafted for this kind of money is something only the perps would know. My perp abetting mother gave me $11k of it, and I supplied the rest. My daughter was also getting extra payments, which I didn't know about until she got a letter saying she owned $2k. I paid that for her to keep it off her back. So yes, close to $18k in payouts, and I am down to zilch savings. All those extra disability (ahem) payments allowed me to save for the first time since this litany of abuse began in earnest in 04-2002.

I also got financially wiped out in 2005 when my ex-wife's legal shenanigans cost me $30k for a divorce that could of been done for $5. And too, some abetting games by the lawyers also increased the tab. Again, my perp-abetting mother came up with the money for about half of it. I wonder if she gets reimbursed by the perps.

And too, being married before that to a perp abetting saboteur also wiped me out for past real estate transactions, though in 1981 they had the help of the financial market when interest rates were 18% and I had to borrow money to pay off the balance of the mortgage we had then. My first and only new house was only for about two years.

In other words, the perps have managed me to have many and various financial failings over the years, as it seems to be part of their wider human condition nonconsensual research agenda. My usual retort to them is I have been screwed enough, go beat up on your own agents instead.

Volvo Modfications

07-01-2012
A laid back Sunday day off, and only until now (1530h) do I feel at a loose end. I got taken down almost immediately after lunch for a two hour nap-attack. I didn't need the sleep at all, but for some reason they wanted me prone and sleeping. And some will say, more psychically accessible too. Could well be as the perps like to time other's in my proximity to having naps.

And then there is the Volvo nonsense witnessed for the second time this week. An 850 sedan was hit from behind and underneath, possibly from a lower bumper, and dented the trunk and raised it up about 3" to 5". They put it on show (parked) when I drive by each day on my way to work, arranging it in profile, seen from the side with the raised (whole) rear trunk. Now it is no question I like the look of that Volvo model, sedan or wagon, and I would of bought one if I could of found one the time I was vehicle shopping in April. But it wasn't to be, a mid-grey Toyota Camry instead and it has done me well so far. Said damaged Volvo was on the vehicular gangstalking circuit this morning when I was headed off for shopping, driveable with its rear trunk damage. All I can assume from this arranged nonsense is that they wanted me to see this particular vehicle with its rear end misaligned, and the whole rear body line out of whack. As for why, I don't know, but the perps consistently test my vehicle form/look reactions, and when a vehicle looks attractive and when not. Of course there are no end of variations, as vehicle models change from year to year, and it does seem they focus on rear end looks of late (the last year). Anyhow, there isn't a Vovlo dealer in town, and not many of them, so it just seems to be this sideline that the perps persist in for whatever reason.

I went to yoga this morning, a drop-in class, and I see they are populating it with more dudes, now four from a previous one. The usual heavy breathing/wheezing dude wasn't in class, but strangely he was walking past carrying his umbrella in the then-torrential rain. It is not uncommon for the perps to plant someone in close and have them progressively back off. I his case it was next to me in the first class, half a room away in the second class, a whole room away in the third, and now, this fourth time, he only passed by the building when I "happened' to arrive.

A new blonde instructor today, in keeping with the perp's instructor swapping games. And the infernal tattos were on display; one particular horrid all-arm and partial torso tattoo on a woman was two persons away. The woman in between us was on partial blocking duty so I wouldn't see this disgusting tattoo in full. The to the L side, the woman next to me had some smaller inside arm tattoos, and a woman four mats away wore a shirt that looked like tattoo patterns (skin color, with deep blue markings on it). Again, we have the perps and their infinite abusive insanity pissing around and setting up tattoos, partially blocking them, and tattoo emulations. All because I don't care for tattoos, and whose business is that? My own one would think, but no, it is a ten year long insane abusive tyranny they have imposed to find ot why I loathe tattoos (among other things).

And speaking of loathings, aka the Unfavored, this one residential block of houses has sprang three HD motorcycles in the last week, all of them on show as some kind of prop the perps want me to see. I don't care for their noise one bit, but for the most part they are arranged for me to see. One overwrought chromed motorcycle, two houses away, was parked on the front yard this morning when I set off for yoga. Presumably it was there all night, as that is where it was last evening. And I know from motorcycle owners that its prominent display is essentially asking for it to be stolen as they are much coveted if in good condition, which this one is. And as the perps have also been insanely beserk over arranging motorcycles around me for over ten years, knowing I loathe the HD noise, why are they doing this? Perhaps if they allowed me to retain the deleted memories they did when aged 2 to 5 y.o., I might know. So on this national Canada Day holiday/long weekend, you are hearby informed that some citizens are not allowed to have recollections as to what abuses (I assume) were done to them. A free country, my ass. And or that matter, perhaps the world.

The new roomie is a 50+ y.o oversized woman doing an internet businesss directory for this city (apparently). And she has wasted no time in hanging around me in the kitchen, "happening" to be there at 0635h when I was there having breakfast. And again when I came back from yoga, the perps conveniently fucking me out of putting my laundry in the dryer before yoga and forcing another kitchen visit. Soo... nothing new there, per expectation.

07-02-2012
A day of tucking shoots on the vineyard; just tucking, not other major work like thining them out, except for the obvious ones. And since then, the perps have been playing flashbacks of shoots in my visual field, about every ten seconds or so. And especially when screaming infuriated at the assholes preventing me from quartering the quesadilla I made for dinner. Not that it was audible, but they had me just as annoyed if I had.

I have been shoot tucking for the past three weeks and never had flashbacks of shoots to any degree until today. Perhaps it was the added harassment that they thought would be a synergistic screwover; read on.

And all day long, the perps played irritable bowel syndrome on me, creating various unpleasant sensations without any visible result. What a way to spend the Monday of a long weekend, equivalent to July 04 in the US. This was relieved at day end by being the "shit refugee" and unloading at the washrooms in the mall. The usual extra gangstalking activity around me, including some dipshit bag who almost piled into me when I was exiting. My "lead me there" gangstalker also "happened" to be ahead of me when I exited. No doubt shit resonance between me and the gangstalker assholes is very much part of the agenda. And too, having me eat extra chocolate these days.

07-03-2012
The daily crumb inundation went over the top this morning. I get crumbs around me all the time, from a putative source, but far in excess of the conventional normal (before all this harassment began). The last roomie was a classic; he had toast most mornings and there were at least 50 crumbs around the toaster. He was engaged with a pissing match with the landlady, so he felt he didn't need to clean them up. And so the sat there all day until the landlady cleaned them up.

Today's crumb-fucking games took on a new turn, as they were teleported in just to bug me. I was at the sink, cleaning dishes and had just finished up when three orange carrot crumbs arrived from nowhere. They were aligned in one direction, roughly N-S, and spanned a length of 1.5". One crumb was on the yellow formica countertop, the middle crumb was on the exact location the steel kitchen sink flange met the countertop, and the third crumb was on the steel sink flange. So here we are, ten years into this insane relentless abuse, and the Fuckwits are arranging carrot crumbs by way of teleportational fuckery. Seemingly, this doesn't bother them one bit, to be viewed as totally idiotic rampaging juveniles with extra conventional powers.

Then the UPS imbroiglio/impasse took another turn; the local UPS store wouldn't take my parcel because it had COD charges on it. Like WTF; they have my parcel, and they would be charging me the COD charges when I pick it up, so what is the deal? I asked where it is and how can I pick it up and the woman UPS representative said she had no idea. I thought Loomis' non-service was outrageous, but this bullshit takes the cake.

And I see that UPS did deliver another separate parcel today, so maybe the perps needed me to go to the brown store to then "resonate with" (for lack of better term) brown cardboard at the UPS store. Or as a "warm up" for my visit to the UPS store tomorrrow, as they gave me the option to pay for the COD charge over the phone, which I did. Which begs the question, why didn't they tell me about this byzantine bureaucracy the first time I asked the parcel be re-directed to the local UPS store? And when I phoned the UPS store in advance of the parcel re-direction, why didn't they ask if there was COD charges on the parcel? All this erupted because the "hold for pickup" choice told me after the fact that the parcel would be held in another city 1.5 hours drive away. Just call it more parcel delivery obstruction, and it may be related to the "browning around" games that have gone on since the start of this abusive fuckery 04-2002.

And when will UPS finally get it, and not go through this ritualistic nonsense of delivering when I know I won't be there to accept it? Have an option when ordering items to permit hold for pickup instead of this constant nonsense of attempting delivery when it is in not doable. I just don't get it, save the "browning around" behavior directed by the perps. And it is always curious that I get extra parcel delivery van gangstalking after each time I recieve a parcel.

07-04-2012
The coffee grounds mess on the stove got me cranked up, though not audibly out of respect(?) for the roommate situation here. I was spooning fresh grounds into the pot, and lo, if somehow, a two pea sized amount didn't self eject from the top of the spoonful and land on the stove. No hand movement of any kind contributed to this near-instant coffee mess, and no shakey hands either. Typically they will force my hand to move as the apparent cause of the coffee mess, but not this time. Just plain assed teleportational abuse.

Another day of tucking vines in the vineyard, just it, and no other activities like shoot thining, leaf removal, lateral removal and top clipping. The sun was out, and eventualy it became warm, though not too warm. We are due for a week of sunshine after a soggy June, running to July 03.

I suppose yesterday's rain was the culmination of perp games, as the rain forced me to use my raingear for the first time in a month, as it had come back from the drycleaner's five days ago, and we know how the perps like to piss with laundering and all its variants. Hopefully the summer will get to normal, though I not optomistic even if they pulled a bad summer last year in this region. Many of the red grape varietals never got picked because they didn't have sufficient sugar.

As a nice send off for the day, the perps ensured I ended up with dog shit on my L.boot, the first 2" toe portion. So another delay in departing, never mind getting the smell jammed up my nose.

Then the now-usual shit-at-the-mall on the way home, me as a shit refugee as they don't like me to do it at home. My shit-stalkers arrived either side of me while in the cubicles, plus other noises. This time I was lead there by two young girls in same blue t-shirt and black short shorts. Much better that the granny parade I seem to get.

07-05-2012
More vine tucking today, and all day. All six acres has been tucked twice now. Sunshine in the am when I had my shirt off, but intermittent in the afternoon when I had my shorts on (shirt on again). Plenty of noise eruptions when I put on sunscreen as usual, and when changing clothes. Yesterday was cleaning day at the house, and at about 1000h when I went to put on shorts, why, egress to the bathroom was blocked by the very large cleaning lady. (Same one who was doing bend-over games about a month ago in similar circumstances). So where to change? Why, outside on the covered veranda area with a commanding view of Skaha Lake and the mountains behind.

And it was my very first day as a "iTune-out", one of those farmworkers (or any person) listening to personal music while working. After the weeks long pissing match to get FLAC files playing on my wretched Android phone, it has finally culminated in playing music while I work. These are over-the-headphones, and so some conflict with wearing a hat too, as yet unresolved. (Worse yet, I could wear a ball cap to have my ears accessible to the headphone. I loathe ear buds). IT wasn't as simple as that of course; two female vocalists were given short play, but the male blues-zydeco singer was given full album length play.  And the rotation order was messed up

The vineyard neighborhood noise has taken a new turn. The adjacent larger vineyard has had its equipment shack demolishined, two white shipping containers arranged at roadside for lockable storage, and they are busy putting in foundations and forms. In other words, the very common farm neighborhood noise I call "tap attacks" has semi-legitimate causal. This construction work is the putative reason, but each time I hear the 1x/second tap of a hammer I have to laugh, as what self-respecting builder would be so slow in hammering, and is still using a hammer when air nailers are the construction norm. Yes, I know a hammer can add the right amount of force to move an object (e.g. foundations), but the slow methodical once per second tapping noise has followed me for every farm I have worked in for the last five years. Most often there is no evident construction at all.

Still not out of the Android woods yet; the Songbird player started up by itself when the PowerAmp app was playing. Quite the feat, two music players sounding off at once.

And the essential fatty acids diet testing is still running; after over a month of taking four fish oil capsules at the first break, and four more at lunch, Mon. to Fri., why, the perps had me "forget" all about it when making up lunch this morning. No good habit goes unsabotaged, even if they groom on the habit in the first place.

Stinging eye torture while driving back, causing me to change my intinery. Instead of visiting UPS store to sort out their imposed imbroiglie, I went to the share house to take a shower. When turning off the highway they obliterated my vision for a few seconds and then some horrid indescribable brain scrambling irradiations while turning off the highway. They pulled this abuse sequence once before and all I can say is that is absolutely immobilizing, worse yet, while driving in traffic.

07-06-2012
I am 58 today, and look younger than 38. Lines that formed when I was 33 y.o. are now gone. Most of the age regression was done in 2004, though they have been at it again in the last year.

A hot day on the vineyard, mostly sunny, and maybe summer has come at long last after a double average rainfall for June. I was doing more shoot tucking, putting the shoots between the trellis wires to contain them in a vertical plan. Also called the Vertical Shoot Positioning (VSP) training system, although it requires much human effort to get the shoots vertical, as they are prone to spill and flop in any direction.

I got to listen to music from my Android mostly without a problem, but there has been some unconventional player behavior to keep me wary that it can fuck up at any moment, e.g. getting a new album instead of the next song. Today I was playing the Eva Cassidy playlist I have, some 78 songs that kept me going for much the morning. The perp control drift is that they want me to listen for 2 to 3 hours but not the full work day. This afternoon without the player or headphones they applied the sensation that the headphones were on my head, but they weren't. In other words, they could remotely detect the particular sensation of this new headphone pair (less than a week old) when listening to music, and then replay this identical sensation later when they weren't on my head. All I had to do was to move my head quickly in a (seeming) random direction and the sensation diminished. Once my head was reasonably still again they re-applied this same headphone wearing sensation. A Happy birthday treat from the Psychopathic Confederacy.

Other perp applied BS was to keep me in a depressive state for much of today, and it is still going on. The games of promoting a certain product to purchase and then not finding it continues. For 2.5 years they have on this breakfast diet of coconut butter, which is delicious and beats out the rest of the nut butters combined. Artisana coconut butter is the best IMO, and I have had it on hand all the time, even in this new town. But now two stores are out of it, one with no alternate coconut butter brands. How fucking tiresome they are not only setting me up for the dashed expectations game (item not there), but also manipulating the source of my food supply. Just the usual, and they are still at it in ten years of insane sustained abuse, and a prior 48 years of covert life-long fuckery. What is this all about?

Speaking of which, why are some TI's getting a reprieve from harassment, and even know how long this hiatus will last. I have had the odd reprieve, for a few hours, no more than six times in this wretched existence they have imposed.

I had about 15 helicopter and aircraft flybys today, a little more than usual. To be fair, there is the Penticton Airport two miles away, but at least three aircraft made pointless circles or arcs overhead. They seem to like it that the helicopter underbelly light is on and it "happens" to be seen by me in mid-turn. A small jet came and did a 180 degree turnoverhead and then took off in the direction it came. Most odd to say the least, and it appeared not to be landing at the airport, especially having just come from that direction.

Last week they must of teleported a small aircraft some 200m away; it came out from behind a rocky knoll, not more than 50m clearance, in a climb. The interesting part was pondering how it got there, as there is a powerline behind the knoll. The pilot either took exceptionally foolish chances to make this low pass, or else he and aircraft were teleported at the point of climbing out of this hole behind the knoll. I never heard it coming in behind the knoll, so that is why it was a teleportation job. I see teleported insects, debris, vine leaves and tendrils in front of me all day long, and for the most part I have no idea as to how they got there, or in my way. Or else, they are blanking me out at the moment the object conventionally flips/slides/hops into view, and it appears suddenly to my remotely impaired perception. In fact, I think they are doing some of each, and there is some essential cosmic energetic difference that they are looking for via controlling all my neural cognition.

07-07-2012
A later get-up as it is Saturday, and no vineyard work today.  The perps had me tired and in a blue funk yesterday evening, so no plans as to what to do, save a haircut and leg wax this afternoon.

Birthday wishes via phone call from my Victoria farmworker colleague last night; the ever chipper and don't-want-to-know platitudes again. This is the only person who puts themself out to make sustained contact, and it is forced to say the least. There is no way the perps would allow continued contact to persist over 1.5 years without their blessing/collusion. And that starts the guessing games; is she for real (a co-opted local with the right things wrong with them), a scripted operative, or a morphed-over version of someone else I would know, say Ms. C from the story. And as usual, I don't know, and don't care but am not allowed to have the luxury of independent thought, and this wretched unresolvable topic comes up far more than it would if I weren't in the grasp of the techno-Fourth Reich.

Laundry coincidences again; the downstairs tenant has moved out and his bedsheets were laundered by the landlady and draped over the garden chairs in the backyard to dry. And it just happens to be the day that I launder my bedsheets for the first time in this shared residence. And no less, is the inaugural use of a new laundry detergent, somehow "needing" to move away from the usual Woolite.

The haircut and full leg wax treatment again. This time the wax from two blondes; the one last time with a faint-ish unnatural red streak was updated with a 2" wide bold red swath to the roots. The other a seeming trainee was a yellow straw blonde.

The one who cut my hair was a reddish-brown with silver foil in her hair, as part of a treatment she was doing. I have seen it before, but cannot claim to know what it is for. Then three identical colored, sized and built negroes were on the other side of the hair cutting station. First there was one, and he did a pose through the divider in a grey singlet and shorts, and within a minute he seemed to be wearing a yellow top. Unexpected clothing changes aren't anything new to me, and that is what I thought it was. But no, within a minute it was revealed that there were two, with the same hair. Later another same negro "happens" to end up in the pose mode, this time with dreads. The way it seemed it was a triple negro haircut show at the same station. Later, while in the waxing area, they were doing restless full store-width walks for whatever reason. They were there for 40 min. or so, until the three of them walked out in file, identically sized and built, even more than brothers. As to who and why this negro show was arranged I have no idea, but as they are extremely rare here, and were all the same sized and height, I can only assume this was arranged for me to see their colorful outfits at various distances and also through the semi-transparent curtain of the waxing area.

And lo, when I exited the building after my waxing, why, another negro standing around on the sidewalk and looking stupid, as would any highly conspicuous gangstalker. Maybe it was for daylit conditions, and he in the shade of an awning of an abandoned building.

Enough of the Unfavored and and the ridiculous show that continues around me seeming to invoke abreactions that may have arisen in the memory blanked years, aged two to five. Not my problem if I have subconscious recall reactions to adverse treatment and abuse. As mentioned many times, the Indian Lake Project has pictures of children stuffed in cages, some negro, some blind, some Caucasian. The timing of this abuse at the hands of military personnel fits the same memory blanked years, so who knows, but the Perps, aka, Fourth Reich. Not until more of the pics are posted can I hope to know, and that could be a long time yet, given the owner is under surveillance with the black helicopter visitation and a dead rat on his newspaper outside the front door.

So to post this now.

Shorter Work Days

11-07-2011
1840h
This a Monday, and following a stayover at the First Feral Family house last night, brings on all kinds of extra harassment, noise and strange behaviours of others. It was a rare 0900h start, as normally farm work begins at 0800h, or when berry  picking is on, as early as 0600h. And it was most strange that my four co-workers, including my supervisor, were wandering around in a semi-daze and not seemingly knowing what job to do. I pitched in and helped on bin repairs and then onto clean up, as the place is in semi-chaos most times. After a half hour of this, and no one telling me what to do, the potato washing job was on, and so I was on the outside after the washing to remove reject potatoes. These were from a 40' wide and 8' high mountain of potatoes that I had been clambering on four days ago to pull the huge blue plastic tarp over them as the one in place had split for some strange reason. Not every day does one clamber a small mountain of potatoes, but it seemed it was up to me at the time as my co-workers had "faded out", seeming to lack intitiave to get this job done as we were all pulling in different directions at the time.

Anyhow, one ton per truck load, and three truckloads on the day, quitting at 1540h, also unusually early. But as the work seems to be less, despite the boss saying that I could "have as much work as I wanted" last week. The topic of work, or lack thereof, is a big perp theme that has been consistent for the past 9 years or more. I have no idea what this is about exactly, but it may have some connection with the present day recession and the rampant job losses over the past three years. Don't know, and I don't understand why these significant themes are such a consistent perp issue.

11-08-2011
Still on with shorter work days, starting at 0900h. We didn't have enough time to complete the last run of potatoes for washing so we packed it in at 1530h, same as yesterday. Hmm... but with an extra hour of light in the morning why didn't we start at 0800h, the usual daily start time? I don't ask these obvious questions anymore.

Mainly, the job was potato washing of a truckload (one ton or so) the large mound (per above), as  it seems this is the only activity on the farm, apart from repairs. Many of these potatoes are green, getting chlorophyll from being too close to the ground surface in this freakish delayed season this year. And a perp "insight" (read planted thought) was that the greenish tones were to emulate skintones of the green men I might have seen during the memory blanked years, 1956-59. Well so what; I don't know why the perps are on this green color binge of late, but it too seems to be a featured enough to suggest that it too might be an Unfavored color. Which begs the question, what color isn't Unfavored? Blues for sure, maybe violets and purples. Ask the Men In Black Fleece as the current day MIB's dress.

Two days ago it was a run of white potatoes that had plenty of rot in them, black and brown tones, and lo, if the perps didn't plant the notion that it was skintones of certain Unfavored races. Another so what as far as I am concerned.

A different set of freaks on the bus of course, taking it at 0815h, instead of an hour earlier. This is the kids and parents run, in keeping with the perps' insane need to plant children around me, sometimes going to absurd lengths. e.g three year olds on the bus at 1930h when they should be in bed.

That didn't stop them planting a negro woman next to me and her child on the bus this morning, my first weekday bus trip at this later 0815h time. (Yesterday I came from the First Feral Family house via vehicle).

And it is the perp season/current initiative to have me make typing mistakes and adding incorrect digits into my credit card number when making online transactions. An online transaction triggered a call from the firm to get the credit card number correct, and lo, if the incorrect digits weren't the very same ones they messed with when making an online transaction the next night. Exciting times in Perp Subjugation Unit.

Other perp sponsored activity has been to re-start me at the tanning salon, the last time I was there was August followed by some outdoor tanning. So... two gangstalkers were hot on my tail when I went in, and presumably they tanned in other rooms in parallel. Then to the LD store following tannign where they put on a male gangstalker on his blue cell phone handling the very chocolate I was going to purchase.He took a single bar ahead of me and then I picked a larger quantity as it was on sale. This dude was on his second reprise gangstalking, and I was also treated to the same ponytailed male apparent staff member in the same aisle doing the same thing (stocking the toilet paper) in the same location two weeks ago. I suppose, in the perp's world, there is an continuing after-effect from being under the tanning lights, and they wish to capitalize on it when I make a financial transaction following tanning. They also put on their best babe cashier at the LD store, I haven't seen her for at least six months or more. Then a cute and adoring babe in the elevator and so marks the opening salvo of tanning salon activity in winter. Soon, the thuggy dudes, freaks and other Unfavoreds will be populating the gangstalking scene following tanning.

And a blast from the past, one of the swim club members I knew until 1999 "happened" to stop by at the farm, but he was looking for the chicken farm down the road, with the same surname. And lo, if the assholes didn't totally blank me out as to what his name was, though he knew mine, and he didn't offer his, even when it was clear that I "forgot". So... I spent the next potato washing/sorting hour trying to think what his name was, or more like, the perps were dropping names into mind and I was rejecting them until some hours later when I was allowed to know it. Such are the travesties of living in a total mind-fuck environment. I had spoken to him many times, had visited his house as part of a swim club social, and even had a tour of his pottery operation, and somehow I got totally blanked out. Needless to say I am totally pissed at this cognitive incursion.

And what is it about the perps they need to fuck me over as to meeting deadlines? I applied for a three month Viticulture course at a college, and they sent me an email which indicated a letter was to come, and then I get it six days later and lo, if they didn't spring a deadline of Nov. 14, 2011 for admissions requirements documentation, aka transcripts. As Nov. 11 is a national holiday, and it occurs on a Friday, one can sense there aren't many business days between now and deadline, (writing this in the evening). So, on with getting the transcripts sent by courier, and even at that, they promise 3 to 5 days with courier service. I might make the deadline for both transcripts sources, but I had to re-submit one request to have courier delivery, "forgetting" about the national holiday, and that Nov. 14 follows on the Monday. And it seems to me that no real mail, save flyers, ever gets delivered on a Monday. One stream of cluelessness added on top of another, and all of it perp created and managed.

11-09-2011
Finally the farm work nonsense was ended today, partly by my instignation as the farmer's wife, and farm administrator, "happened" to come by after lunch when all five of us farm workers were milling about and  wondering what the next job was as the farmer had taken off without giving us any direction. Or, at least, that is how it seemed, though one can be sure this was all stage managed to some extent, though some of the dialog and communications might not be totally scripted. Hard to tell.

We had just finished the last of the washing and grading of the mound of potatoes (per above) before lunch and that was all it seemed there was to do. The farmer did finally show up 10 minutes later and then got into an angry retort with his wife beside me, and I had to explain what he said in part because I had heard his same angry rant a few days ago. Later she told me that this outfit that won't purchase his carrots (50 tons of them) due to seeming new corporate buying interconnections accounts for 90% of their carrot sales. Ouch.

As I was talking to the farmer's wife about payday and the no apparent work or work plan, the others slowly slid out and by the time I got back to where the potato washing equipement was, why, there were all stationed in their places and ready to go with a new load of potatoes that were going to be re-washed by dumping them from their boxes. Like WTF; how did everyone know about this new job for the next few hours when there wasn't any apparent communication? Same thing in the morning at the end of coffee break; the Asian guy gives me a scoop shovel and says we have to help the loading of the potatoes where the farmer was loading the truck up with the tractor loader shovel at the potato mound. As we had bee working from this pile for the previous two days, just the farmer operating the shovel, how was it that our help was needed and how did it get communicated as they were some 100' apart? Like always, I contend that my entire life circumstances down to the last microsecond are scripted and the players all seem to know somehow without any apparent conventional human communication methods and over any distance.

The early afternoon consisted of me dumping four pallet loads of 50lb boxes (1,500lb) of nugget potatoes onto the conveyor line. Some were rotten, shrivelled or disfigured, so the concept was to run them through the washing tumblers and to the inspection station at the end, with no interim inspection like usual. And so when I began the task, the farmer's pal was 30' away in his red vehicle with the headlights trained on me for five minutes waiting for the farmer so they could go on a their odd drive-arounds that they usually do, kind of like mobile coffee breaks. The instructions were to dump them on the conveyor in a pile and let the washing tumbler even out the flow. And as these are small potatoes, there are many more in a 50lb box, so the inspection effort is substantially greater, per potato. It seemed that we were ramming them through again, not applying significantly more quality inspection which created the problem in the first place. And then the re-washed potatoes were put back in the emptied boxes, replete with mould and slimy potato remains, all to reinfect the just washed (and wet) potatoes. Doesn't make any sense to me, if one expects a better quality outcome, but as we have being doing this for various potato varieties and grades for the past month, it wasn't out of the ordinary. Though when one applies the perp perspective, who just love to have work re-done, it make somewhat more sense. The only difference this time was that any hope for better scrutiny and inspection was nonexistent due to the small potatoes that were in much more significant quantity. All too strange for me to consider this activity in economic terms, so there must be a perp rationale behind all of this seeming potato processing inanity.

11-10-2011
A busy day, and always a big perp event when transitioning from one lifestyle (working) to another (now, not working). And it started early, sometime when they had me jerk off sometime around 0200h, coming out of a sleep for the event, and really not wanting to complete. I get two to four ot these a year, with minimum sensation, so it is more comparable to "remotely influenced mastabatory rape" than a response to any kind of imposed horniness. That brought on getting up early (by their doing) to attend to laundry before intending to head out at 0930h. And at least 15 rage-fication stunts this morning over the smallest of events; teleporting crumb inundations, sending me to the wrong cupboard or drawer, have me open a cupboard or fridge and stand there dumbstruck because they deleted my intention from mind, and a few other regular games to rile me up. One can be sure it is a big perp day when the rile me up in the morning.

Then the assholes screwed me out of getting the bus, by running it two minutes early and temporarily  pre-empting the bus stop I was walking toward by arranging a crane truck on the sidewalk that was lifting stacks of drywall up some four stories. So in other words, the assholes double fucked me over getting my intended bus; running it early (very uncharacteristic for the N. boung #27, 28 routes) and then arranging the bus stop to be unavailible and also pinching down the adjacent three lanes down to one with the ubiquitous dayglo flag girl.

That wasn't the end of overhead boom trucks/cranes, a very common gangstalking arrangement. No sir, there were at least three more such jobs on my travels today, not only constricting traffic down to one alternating lane, and never less than two boom trucks together, as that seems to be the minimum as of 2004 or so. The perps cannot get enough human activity close to the powerlines it seems, and arranged when I come by.

the bus to the First Feral Family house begat my freakshow as usual, this morning's star freak was the slouching dude in the red hat and the red pants and white top who later removed it to reveal a slightly differing red T-shirt underneath. It is just fucking hilarious to be hounded with red dressed freaks and fuckwits for nine years. But that abominable color arrangement wasn't the worst of it, as he was seriously tattoo-ed on his arms and neck. So.. I got to look at the freakshow out the window instead. Regular readers will know that I loathe the sight of tattoos, and the perps like to chase me down with gangstalkers with such self-mutilation features. Eyewitness reports from the 1950's place the infamous Dr. Cameron in Montreal examining "patients", (nonconsenual human experimentation subjects, including children) who had bald heads and tattoos on them to provide repeatable reference points on their heads. And of course regular readers will also know about the placement of male (nearly always) bald heads, aka skinheads, around me as part of the gangstalking milieu/parade. I too was in Montreal as a child  1956 to 1959, aged 2 to 5, and most of my recall has been wiped out from then by some means. Funny how I never, ever remember to ask my mother about what happened to me then and where I was,- mind control writ large IMHO.

I got my negro gangstalker on the bus again and they hid him mostly behind the lower deck bulkhead, and he even put on headphones over his head to limit the amount of his frizzy hair that I could see at once. And to touch on another Unfavored demographic feature, I now find tight or loose curly hair abominable to look at. And lo, if their aren't pics of military personnel stuffing negro, Caucasian and blind children in cages in the mid to late 1950's on the Indian Lake Project site.

And it was a big event for laundry over the day. Once I dropped off my mother at her dental appointment I took her vehicle to my place to drop off three new towels that had been laundered at least five times at her place to drive the lint out. Going back, I took the three regular towels (two of which that were laundered this morning) to get laundered at my mother's place as there is some residual scuzz on them I cannot get off in this apartment building washing machines. Then onto the farm to get the last of my work clothes and gumboots, only to find the three Punjabis that I work with were continuing working. That is how it goes in Fuckover World, getting the shaft every which way.

Then back at my mother's place I handwashed the breathable Blue Storm rainpants, then pre-soaked the fleece vest that I had kept at the farm. Back to pick my mother up at the dentist, along with the traffic constrictions and boom trucks along the route, and then to dine out for lunch. It was dishy blonde babe waitress time again, and I can never get enough of that. (Because they like to intialize me with such Favoreds, and then slowly filter in the dudes around me, this time it was two parties of cyclists, four in all. This restuarant is about the most unlikely place a cyclist would go for lunch, so it was mildy amusing to see these Fuckwits so out of place).

I took my towels to the FFF house to get them laundered as there was a sheen of brown scuzz that I cannot get off. Said towels were in my duffel bag that I took on the homebound bus later, and it was another absurdity of gangstalking excess; over 30 passengers heading into downtown at 1730h on the #27 route. The biggest freak was the Fuckwit with the bald head that was covered with a ball cap, but even in side view one could see that his head was extensively tattoo-ed. At least they put an interesting looking babe in front of me, the dude-force that normally encircles me is getting most tiresome.

On the bus I got the backpack shove, the asshole next to me pretending not to notice that his backpack that he wore was contacting me. Been there, done that, only a few days earlier.

11-11-2011
Day of the elevens, and here, Rememberance Day, akin to Veteran's Day, a national holiday. And in this controlled existence I lead, I went out for coffee with the former farm laborer co-worker who goes the extra mile to cover my tracks, working at the same places that I have, and with a seeming perfect confluence of life activities/conditions going on that the perps like; skin condition, divorce, debt, job firings etc. Currently she is taking a 9 month horticulture course, attempting to get job oriented training in her mid-thirties. I sometimes wonder if she isn't a morphover a certain (in)famous woman who seems to show up with regularity in the planted thought stream (and seen twice). And of all things, she came with cleavage showing, a never-seen-before appearence, way outside her comfort range as known to date.

And what might of been the events prior to going out for coffee with this obvious perp abettor? I started using my new towels last night, and this morning. The use of towels are a big perp harassment subject, and their propensity to spread lint onto all the other laundry is near legend for me. They are the same color of off-white as the last set, now duly stored in the closet after getting a more thorough laundering at my mother's yesterday. The new towels were laundered some six times to drive off their linting habit, and have been kept at my mothers for over four weeks.

Other perp prep for me this morning was to have me shave my legs last night, when normally I do this on Saturday nights and never on Thursdays until yesterday. My bedsheets that were laundered yesterday were slept on last night without benefit of any bedclothes, also an exceptiopn. The entire sleep/matress/ bedsheets color and laundered state is always a big perp consideration.

At the cafe:  the "backup" stunt with the person in the next table with her back some 18" away and she and her party were speaking sign language for the most part. Which makes this interesting, as they were having a conversation simultaneously, but silently. Which suggests the perps are working on determining the neural/psychic energies devoted to words and concepts, separate from the aural component.

A vacuum cleaner outside my door on a this statutory holiday; fucking absurd for the little they clean this apartment building. But it is not the first time the vacuum cleaner stalking has erupted outside my door, or when I am in the hallway. One building arranged a 20% chance of there being a vacuum cleaning job for me to encounter on my way to my apartment.

And Songbird, a free open source music player is crashing in an unusual way; the tiles/windows are interleaved with other concurrent Windows applications.

Perverse news: Obama Barrack has teleported to Mars. I wouldn't be too surprised if this is true, from my dealing with telportations all the time in the form of missing objects, food crumbs (or even half teaspoon blobs) arriving from nowhere in front of me, and the daily litany of imposed adverse fuckery I am exposed to.

I am going to post this now, as blogs will be more a daily reportage, as there is plenty of spare time as no more farm work.

All Carrots Day

10-03-2011
A Monday, returning from The First Feral Family house to start work and my overnight bag with its used face cloth in it was at the farm the whole day that I bagged, and participated in the carrot unloading from the hopper truck and the conveyor line work. One can say I am sick of the sight of carrots, though in perp-land that counts for nothing, as they are on a major push to find out why I don't like the color orange. Don't ask me, as my recall was deleted almost entirely from 1956 to 1959, and the subconscious traumatization associations remain. Same for red, yellow, brown. Not my problem, so why in the fuck am I set up for over nine years with all these dumbshit arranged games over colors, not to mention gangstalking and being kept in a rage-ified state due to constant torment?

Amanda Knox walks free after four years in jail, and her statement was wanting her life back. Try nine years of this fucking abuse, being the mind-fuck victim that gets circulated to all manner of stunts, and gets rammed into doing farm work, just so loud noises can be arranged to erupt each time I touch a carrot, pick a squash or anything associated with plant harvesting, pruning, root digging and the rest of it. More bizarre than Amanda herself, but it is ongoing and relentless.

10-04-2011
More bagging carrots, then conveyor line work on unloading carrots, then raspberry picking (with a fake-out for strawberry picking at first, which meant that I had my knee pads on, not really needed for raspberry picking). After lunch, the reverse; readied for raspberry picking I get diverted to strawberry picking, this time the reverse, getting caught out strawberry picking without my kneepads on. The carrot washing again, then carrot bagging.

And these are plastic bags we a putting the carrots in, and have I said how absolutely beserk the perps are when I handle, touch or even look at objects of plastic? Maybe hundreds of times, but it continues; I get to open the brown cardboard box of 500 plastic bags, and then get to pass a half inch thick of them to one carrot bagger who then hands them onto the carrot bagger who made the request. (Naturally, the 5" deep box of plastic bags is kept near me on the carrot bagging line). And too, there are bale bags, larger plastic bags to hold 50lb of 5lb bags, and lo, if the E. Indian handling the bale bags isn't flicking them to get them open when all he has to do is to peel them apart as they have ventilation holes cut in them. (Also good for scads of chads to flutter and fall about).

I stopped work at 1700h, got the 1730h #6 bus, and up to 12 other passengers on it all the way into town. Yet, when I take buses at 1800h to 1930h, I get at least twice that many, save the odd time. It just doesn't add up, save the gangstalking and freakshow imperative.

10-05-2011
Another email hack at my Yahoo account. A recent plundering though, as they accessed my contacts list which hasn't been up for more than six months. They got an email from me promoting Viagra, and then had a link to an attack web site that would clobber your computer if it wasn't protected.

A half day of work at the farm today, the morning spent with the employment counsellor who had some kind of special dispensation to go beyond the usual hour time frame. The perps like to set up expectations and then manipulate the events to have them dashed or unexpectedly altered. In this case, I have met the person some 10x, and the deal is that the appointment is an hour. But today, while not able to look at my watch to keep up the eye contact and not appear rude, I had this sense the meeting should of been over, but it was continuing, him doing all the talking. Finally, I got a sneak look at my watch at 1108h, and then I knew the fix was on.

Anyhow, I got the "red men" gangstalking before and after, these loitering louts with some article of red clothing, often including red shoelaces for crissakes. This one dude was sucking on weed (smoking a cigarette) outside the building entrance to the employment offices, and wearing a red jacket. I get into the elevator and lo, just before the door closes, this sucker comes in, timing his arrival and that of his smoke filled lungs perfectly to catch the elevator before it departed. So... as it "happens" he is going to the second floor too, and he strangely motions me to get out the elevator ahead of him, and then he tails me out and lo, if he isn't going to the same office as me. Just fucking bizarre and very obvious.

l got to the farm at about 1230h, time to have lunch and then start into raspberry picking, and then strawberry picking. Once it was break time, why, I got detailed for helping raise panels as part of the haunted house exhibit. And around 1700h, when traversing through the haunted house maze with two batteries for the drill the carpenter was using, why, the perps forced a "wet fart", as in having me crap my pants. At first I wasn't sure, but it felt different after a few minutes and so it was time to do the honors of cleaning this mess up in the bathroom, and yet again, donate a pair of underwear for the Fuckover cause. After some anxious moments the toilet flushed without backing up, unlike the last time the perps pulled this same stunt at a different farm. So... here we go again, purging brown out of me and have me
 go the remainder of the day without underwear.  Just plain fucking hilarious, and the Fuckwit who pulled this stunt had better keep their helmet on all the time, lest an errant bat make contact with their head.

Which now changes the "underwear ecology", another perp infatuation of long standing. All the underwear that I own is black colored, which isn't enough. The two sets of one kind, one with a doubled fabric as the waistband/hem had been used almost alternately every day for the past 8 months or so. But now, with one pair gone, it is back to using the elastic waistbanded set, down to five pairs after another shit show at the other farm back in 03-2011. In other words, the elastic waistbanded set will get more use, as it seems the perp's underwear energetics research, or whatever they are studying, has now moved on and they are confident they can apply the determinations of one set to that of the second set. Naturally, the more confortable doubled fabric waistbanded pairs became unavailible when I wanted to get more, and I had to settle for more of the latter set. The underwear battles have been going on for years in many variations to have me purchase new pairs, e.g. waistband "failure", fabric pilling, seam pilling and hem parting and on and on. Not forgetting that one prior set of six, after being purchased, was taken to get altered and the waistbands lowered 2". In this case, the perps had a fabric sample from each pair, as the alterations person never gave me the spare fabric back.

10-07-2011
A farm work day; bagging carrots inside, then outside to help in the potato unloading/washing that got stalled out two days ago when there were no packing boxes for the finished product. And have I ever mentioned how the perps like to disrupt processes and have them re-start days or months later? Many hundreds of times I should think. That they were red potatoes in a green colored trailer, might of aided the perp's color games as well.

Retards on the bus in the morning; the regular 0715 #6 bus N. bound, and instead of the three negroes stunt of last week, why, it is the three retards/Downs or whatever it is. A perp favorite is to add halfwits into the gangstalking mix, but all the more curious they needed three at once.

Another Unfavored/freakshow populations is blind folk; two together on the bus in this evening. Again, it is most curious why they are doubling or tripling the number of Unfavoreds/freaks at the same time.

While at the picnic table at lunchtime at the farm, a woman in a silver grey sedan pulls up and gets out in white pants and a brown coat. She is looking for certain kinds of potatoes, and I get dispatched to help out, wandering all over the coolers with the farmer's son in his red hoodie, looking for specific potato types, though I have no idea where they keep them all. And lo, if this woman isn't hanging over where my pack is kept by the doorway, and blocking egress to it. Which is exactly what my farm co-workers do too at other times. Funny how that "happens", again and again, just with a change of players.

10-08-2011
A farm work day, though I am short on specifics, except to note that we had to re-process both carrots and potatoes this week. That is to say, they were in bins or were packed in 50 lb boxes respectively, and were put through the washing and grading for the second time. The farmer's wife told me that they had 100 tons of boxed potatoes that they couldn't sell as the buyers are annoyed that there is so much rot in the potatoes. Some of it is detectable to us graders on the conveyor line, but she also made it plain that her husband is in too much of a hurry to push the product through and not concerning himself enough with quality. More dysfunction on the farm, and I didn't dig any deeper on that one.

And lo, if the packed potatoes aren't being stored in the massive coolers at the other farm I worked at, 2008 to 03-2011, this year. Kind of interesting, these potatoes making the reverse circuit between the two farms I have worked at. And have I mentioned how the perps seem to be so interested in the provenance of food, and that they like to vary my food sources from time to time, making certain ones are unavailible? Many times.
10-09-2011
2100h
A wrap to gto this blog posted, because if I don't, it will slide another week while keeping the day job as farmworker, or at least, to the end of October is what I am told.

I am staying at the First Feral Family house as my perp abetting mother has left for two weeks in the UK, my out of town brother unexpectedly accompanying her once they meet up in Vancouver, BC. And, almost needless to day, this house is the nexus of perp research and abuse, as whatever they discover here in the way of remotely assayed brain, psychic energies, EMF or whatever the fuck else they are studying me for (food intake, clothing fabrics and colors, associated noises with thoughts or actions etc.), is attempted to be applied elsewhere. Like earlier today, an accompaniment of red colored gangstalking vehicles with silver grey and mid-grey tones while driving my mother to the Victoria airport, then afterward, driving downtown to my place to drop off a new web-ordered coat that was at the FFF house, and pick up some of my regular food that was in my fridge and then drive back to the FFF where I am now typing this up. So what it seems is that they want me to have my usual and same (mostly) cuisine at the FFF house, and on the crockery that is here, some kind of Dutch pattern, bluish tinted with dark blue borders and a blue floral pattern in the center of plates, bowls etc. The perps go to no end of efforts to energetically quantify my interactions with food and beverages and what the colors convey to the food, then inside me, and wherever else it goes. So eating my usual cuisine in the FFF house is a HUGE advance for the perp's research, taking place to 9.5 years since they went beserk/overt on me in 04-2002. No doubt my farmworker colleagues will be all over me tomorrow, as in gangstalking at work, which is getting more ridiculous and blatant, like having the Asian male wander up to me, stand 2' away, go behind me a little more, dither about for another 10 seconds, and then wander off. It usued to be they would pretend to look for something or even make conversation to inject some relevance and a cover story as to what they were doing in my proximity on my lunch break, but no more. Blatant gangstalking and even looking foolish while doing it are part of the scene now.

What is also interesting is that they allowed me to eat basil for the first time this year, as it has always been a fond herbal staple for the aroma alone. And for "some reason" these quesadillas seem to rip open when handling them to reveal the basil. But for "some reason", (read, unabashed mind control) they didn't want me to have any basil until October this year, almost too late in the season to expect any. Some of it was put in the regular dish I eat for lunch and dinner, quesadillas with sprouted grain tortillas.

I stopped at the two grocery stores and Home Depot on the way back, and sure enough, the red dressed gangstalkers and staff were all about me, especially when at the checkout and making a financial transaction, a moment the perps dearly love to harass me over. Naturally, they were ready, with the prior customer purchasing mounds of ground beef, and other meats, (think red colors here), and some other red colored foods. And too, the red fleece vested gangstalker was there in the next checkout, getting the red out, as I term it. Fleece is now the prefered fabric for the gangstalkers, and even the MIB's are decked out in black fleece with soft black fabric arm and shoulder patches, save once, when an 1950's style MIB was on the bus with the black wide brimmed hat and the shaved eyebrows.

This is the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, so it was a little quieter out at the airport, but in tems of vehicular gangstalking, the perps were full measure for putting on many high hundreds, or even low thousands of gangstalking vehicles, injecting the red colors among silver-grey colored vehicles, though backing off on white colors. Instead, more mid-greys and black colored vehicles, and they were even "daring" enough to have a string of four vehicles, one lead red, a black, a mid-grey and a tailing red to ride beside me for much of the S. bound Hwy 17 into downtown (20 min.). They stuck on me like glue and made sure both lanes were plugged to stop me from getting ahead. And lo, if the perps didn't add an orange vehicle to accompany me for the last 10 minutes, in keeping with their big focus on carrot colors. Also, heavy on the motorcycles today too, the weather cooperating (ahem).

Time to get this posted and done for the week.