12-26-2017
My perp-abetting mother has been putting on the power ditz since I arrived here at the First Feral Family house Dec. 14. But no more so than last night when a near equally aged friend came over, a very talkative one, so it was the two of them talking past each other, my mother doing 80% of the word mangling as well.
And I suppose it was no fluke that one brother was in Thailand, and the other didn't come down from Kamloops, (going off schedule for the first time) just so it was just me to witness, aka, hear, this low content word barrage going back and forth at Christmas dinner. As I saw it, it was another exercise to isolate the TI victim; no one to talk to that has something substantive to say or else, in the case of the word mangling, no intelligible content at all. Add in the indirect referencing that seems to be more prevalent than last year, i.e. "thing", "over there", "it", 'they" etc. and one wonders why they have put me through this again for another year. Perhaps they want me to notice that my mother is getting worse. Well fine, she is 92, so what does one expect even without the underlying mind control imperative.
Add in my mother's colossal inadequacy over running a Windows PC, and it would seem that the perps really like to have me riled up while attempting to help her at the First Feral Family house. I have never seen someone so impervious to learning in all my life, having been stiffed with training her on PC's for over 20 years now. Naturally (har, har) it develops from the event that she attempts to get it done by herself, and I come by and find her klutzing around and then rescue her from herself. The latest was over the community garbage pick up schedule, something I printed out last year for her, so I got a new set printed out. The fact that two different local governments are responsible, one for organics and refuse, the other for recycling newspapers, plastics etc. doesn't make it any easier, along with differing methods of accessing and printing the schedule to make it all the more fraught. Or in the case of my mother, doubly impenetrable.
Later she dodders downstairs, then goes onto watch TV, and I find that only one of the garbage schedules is on the fridge, not the other. I ask where it is, and I get some babble-rationale that makes no sense. It isn't there or anywhere to be found. And owing to her hearing problems, exacerbated by not wearing her hearing aids all the time, I am not getting through. Ergo, I go online and print another. Perp mission accomplished; fuck the victim into doing (or being part of) the exercise all over again. No better excuse than to have some prevaricating and doddering elder who is hard on hearing and recall. Not to mention, a lifetime perp abettor who sold her first born into this total 24x7 nightmare.
Another "feature" of hanging here at the First Feral Family house is exposure to TV, which my perp-abetting mother watches in great quantity from 1700h to 2300h every evening. Not having a TV at my own residence, this is my annual 3-4 week exposure to this particular medium in all its manipulative excess. Not to mention a long running exposure to the freaks and Fuckwits of the Unfavored crowd; excess exposure to negroes on TV hasn't gone unnoticed, nor have wheelchairs, cripples, large gutted males, skinheads and the rest of the Unfavored parade, noted in a static posting at the right. (And they even put on a live negro "happening" to be walking by yesterday when I "happened" to be at the kitchen counter).
And on TV too, laying on the syrupy extra sentimentality of the do-gooders who get extra mention at this time of year, especially if it has a multiculture angle. And too, the BBC News in keeping with their self serving agenda of all things politically correct, has a seeming transgender news reader. Keep the ridiculousness flying all over the Empire, and never look back to see if you have one remaining behind you. And I see the Queen jumped into this ridiculously gushy fray, by praising the rescue workers of the Manchester bombing in 2017. Why not vilify and condemn the misguided islamic zealots who set the bombs off, and tell them if they don't like it in the UK, to get themselves back to where they came from, stateless or not. No your highness, keep a stiff upper lip and pretend the country is doing just fine. I am beginning to conclude that the UK is becoming a "doormat culture"; just walk all over us with your unlawful actions and we won't have the police (or other LEO's) do anything about it; see Rotherham inquiry ,or here still being disingenuous with the term "Asians".
I notice my mother sits on the couch, and not her regular comfy chair when I watch Forensic Files, that grim slice of reality of depraved criminal behavior on TV. Its all about the evidence and the facts, much more to my taste, and free from the happy-clappy agenda games that besmirches commercial TV.
12-27-2017
Some more leaf raking and the "usual" eruptions of road traffic or walkers outside in suburbia, especially if I change locations in the front yard. A few days ago there were high altitude jet aircraft, three for the afternoon, reminiscent of the frequent SAC aircraft but there was overhead cloud so I could not be sure. Unusually, no helicopter coverage while doing this long running task at the First Feral Family property; in past years I have had at least 3 per afternoon on average, plus multiple single engine aircraft buzzings.
My daughter is flying in for a 20 hour visit, having won free ticket ticket from work. This would be from Vancouver to Victoria, a 20 minute flight at best. No matter if it is from the small aircraft S terminal, it was still an hour late. So, an hour waiting at Arrivals, with the freak show parading around me. For the record, we had the LEO's (aka airport security) parading back and forth, a turban, countless male gut struts, the dude next to me on arm extensions (wing flapping I call it), big hats, wheelchairs and a few other. Woohoo, haven't we done his so many times before?
12-28-201
Another occasion for my perp-abetting mother to put on the power ditzing, this time in the vehicle. Another classic perp setup; driving across town to get these infernal cheese biscuits my mother has been going on about since I got here 12-15-2017. Finally I get them at a certain big box store, and thankfully she stays in the vehicle.The usual parade of Fuckwits on me in the store; the woman who stands in the doorway just as the sliding doors opened, the litany of fuckwits at the aisle ends as I walked along them to find the correct aisle as I don't know the store too well, and another collection of Fuckwits at the section where the infernal cheese biscuits were, as I had to go back and forth due to strategically placed shopping carts and gangstalkers who blocked my view at first. Then to get out of the place, first paying of course, and then I couldn't find the exit for crissakes, going the wrong way.
As it was 15 min. before we were to meet my daughter at her hair appointment, we decided to find the location and wait. Finding parking was intense, but we find a spot and then lo, it is perfect for endless headlights to come around the corner and cross into my visual field. So I looked sideways to a fence, and within a few minutes they were firing headlights through the slats of the fence even if it was a residential house on the other side. Then my mother wants to get a card at the dollar store nearby, so I go inside and get one, and lo, some Fuckwit blocks me on my way to the checkout, taking his time to get his shopping cart out of my way, and then proceeds to copy-cat me by going to the card section. Another Fuckwit is at the doorway when I exit, doing a faux mistake so he can go through the same door of the two wide door-set as I just exited. (As I see it, these are examples of before and after financial transaction stalking/stunts). Then my mother is going on about how long the wait is, and given that my daughter didn't reply to the text, I phone. She then tells me it will be another 30 minutes for crissakes. She might of said something sooner but didn't, as we had an alternate location to visit if it weren't for the waiting contingency. Finally, my daughter comes by at 1535h, and we need to get her to the airport quick, as her flight is at 1700h. So all my mother got to see of her on this 20 hour visit is the time my daughter spent in the vehicle together on the way to the airport, some 40 minutes So...another containment exercise, this time in a parked vehicle for 45 min.with my perp abetting mother and her bat-shit wacko rantings about fuck all while the rain came down, reminiscent of a bad camping trip. Why is it the perps have sandbagged me such dip shits all my life, and I am including my ex of 25 years in all this as well? Exasperation inundation it would seem.
12-29-2017
Another 10+ hour sleep sack today; a perfect way to punch a hole in someone's day to enforce later daytime functionality.
I am fresh from another power ditzing and gangstalking outing to the bank, PO, and then SOF supermarket with my perp abetting mother putting on the ditz like never before. At the bank, there was this Asian woman standing in the way outside the doors, and wasn't about to move despite my mother's mobility issues. So we walk around her to get through the first set, and lo, a Fuckwit woman is posted on the outside of the second set attending to her purse. I pull the door open, and then she looks up, making out that she wasn't totally clueless, just outrageously stupid to be standing there in a public doorway attending to her purse.By then, another Fuckwit has come in behind somehow, and then opens the door I was opening a little more with his arm brushing into my shoulder. With a four person clusterfuck going on inside of two door sets 4' apart, I bolted out of there and sat down at the customer waiting section and left my mother to her own devices. She hasn't made it to debit cards, and there for needs to withdraw cash each week or so.
Then more over obvious Asian Fuckwits, one male in particular, who kept loitering around me at the customer section, with some middle east and E. Indian (from India) ones too. Sure, there were the ATMs there, but why this dude needed to stand around, first on his cell phone, and then in the entrance way, and finally leaning up against the wall was beyond me. Can we say extra obvious gangstalking, this time at a financial institution? After my mother's banking she brought around her financial advisor for me to meet, an Asian woman. We shook hands, chatted for a few minutes, and then departed for the Post Office. The PO was a clusterfuck of a line up, so after more doddering and ditzing, my mother decided to forgo the PO line up.
Then onto SOF supermarket; which again, turned out to be another gangstalking shit show. Early on I had two "sneak ups", where the Fuckwit arrives soundlessly behind me within a foot, and eventually reveals himself to then freak me out that someone unknown got so close without any warning. Both were tall males, about 6'3". another. It would seem another Penticton habit has arrived here in Victoria, where "excuse me" seems to be suddenly forgotten. I think there had to be some 20 -30 cluster fuckings in the aisles with my doddering perp-abetting mother putting on the ditz extra thick for the 20 minutes in SOF, abetted by the constant swarm around us. The Asians, E. Indians and the Middle Easterners were in unusual profusion, and of note, the brown box bearing stocking (or stalking) staff. In addition, there were at least 20 gangstalking "intervenings", when the Fuckwits pass between my mother and me. Then my mother pulls some bullshit about coupons not being taken at the self-checkouts, so we go to the manned check out. As the cashier, it was a guy I had seen who ran a downtown coffee store in Victoria in the 1990's, where I got my coffee beans, appropriately aged. The shop even roasted their own beans, so it was the real deal, long before the invasion of Starbucks in this part of the world. Not that he recognized me, but I suppose when one is in a public counter job,one sees people all the time, and won't recall individuals. (Though, it would seem that I was controlled and managed all my life, he was surely in on the gig then. Or like now, maybe then, there was something obviously visual about me that I cannot detect, but everyone else can, and they look at me strangely, if not scared shitless). Anyhow, this cashier guy of the former coffee shop visitation days was the first cashier EVER who asked me if my doddering and ditzing mother gave him the right change. What does one call this when there are two ditzes making a financial transaction? (I was counting and observing only). A transactional ditz-out, or a mutual cash counting impairment dysfunction? I don't know, and I do wonder if this cashier guy was a real one, or perhaps just a one time put on.
Getting out of SOF was another door way egress shit show. Two tall E. Indian young males were obviously loitering at the entrance which is beside the exit, separated by a 5' long rail that separates them. (As in WTF; normal grocery shopping folk proceed straight through to the aisles). They were 6' inside the store, standing together, one obviously overweight and in these ridiculous sloppy shorts that are all the rage. Not exactly dressed for the pouring rain, but hey, I am long familiar with that incongruous visage nowadays, even at -10C. Then as my perp-abetting mother and I pass through the single exit door on the other side of the rail, why, these E. Indian Fuckwits proceed to follow me out and then split sideways once out of the building. An elderly male turbaned E. Indian "happened" to be coming at us 10' ahead, and then 20' behind him was an E. Indian woman in traditional dress. So what was this over-obvious E. Indian gangstalking shit show all about when exiting the supermarket all about? As I have long mentioned, any time there is a light change, say from inside buildings to outside, the perps put on extra stupid shit, and today, it seemed to have a brown skinned flavor, following the intense gangstalking inside while shopping of that same ethnic group. So I have one question for the perps; if you have one of my brothers married to an E. Indian (from India) why don't you gangstalk the utter piss out of him, or both of them, rather than spend 15 years of insane and relentless stalking of me with brown people? Or, screw the turbans, and make the brown people more stupid looking by having them walk out with a brown cardboard box, (about the most ubiquitous brown reference object there can be), on their head? (Arranging "stupid moments" is nothing new to the perps, and covers all races. I have had Caucasians walking around with flattened brown cardboard box material on their heads more than once). Not my problem; if I don't like the color brown (on anything), I don't see why hordes of brown people need to be swarmed around me, especially while at building egress moments. Though I did learn on the radio in 2017 when a neurologist was interviewed, that the perception of color is uniquely individual.
Not forgetting about two months ago, while at the SOF self-checkout in Penticton, (just completing a financial transaction, note) they put on a single file of five E. Indians filing through the self-checkout area who didn't seem to know where the entrance was, and didn't make any bones about it, save one, who gave me this foolish smile. No doubt the brown people gangstalking has a long way to go in light of today's ridiculous circus.
I see my perp-abetting mother is up to her "getting in the way games" again, adroitly placed just where I need to access a section of counter, drawer or cupboard just ahead of me needing to get there. And too, waving her hands in front of her face while talking to me, as in being extra demonstrative. It is another behavioral trait that suddenly erupted when all this abuse rained down in 04-2002. Ditto for her foot waving while seated; not only her on this account, but it too suddenly erupted among the gangstalking community as well as of that same date.
12-31-2017
An afternoon of leaf raking and compost pile making. The leaves were on the section of lawn next to the street, and as in everytime I do this task at the First Feral Family house, there is a break out of activity. IN this normally quiet subdivision, the vehicles start appearihng, the walkers come out, as well as the cyclists. True to form as well, the neighbors opposite have a reason to head out in their vehicle. The aircraft also begin to pass overhead; even a contrail job, plus lower altitude single engine propeller aircraft. In all my five days of outside garden maitenance work, I finally got my first helicopter passing overhead. I never see them here any other time.
Going back a few years, about 7, they even put on a US AWACS aircraft flying low and directly overhead when I happened to step outside. And there are no Canadian AWAC aircraft, and it has been the only time I have seen one in Canada.
Anyhow, a new year is nigh, and I shall get this posted for the week.
Showing posts with label freak show. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freak show. Show all posts
Monday, January 01, 2018
Sunday, September 06, 2015
A Triathlete Comes for Yoga
08-31-2015
Yoga, and what a sight it was. Firstly though, the perps pulled a scab or otherwise inflicted me with some minor bloodletting on my shin just before class. Once class had begun, the assholes then caused it bleed again after I thought it was staunched with finger pressure. But no, they wanted more blood so I excused myself to get a band-aid from the front desk outside the practice room. I was attending to this when a man in a full-body suit, including his head but not his face, rushes past and enters the practice room. And not just any stretch fabric suit. but a tight and streamlined all over and in a reflective silver sheen with random red patterns printed on it. In 1996 while at a Oracle conference I witnessed on the streets in San Francisco a clothed man painted entirely in silver colored paint, including his skin. This freak in the yoga room was comparable as that a once in a lifetime all-out painted freak.
About a minute later I get the band aid applied and the wound staunched and I entered the practice room and this tight silver fabric covered freak was on my yoga mat with the instructor motioning him to take his own mat that was pulled from the shared mats. The obvious question was why was he on my mat when he grabbed a shared mat at the entrance and laid it down 2' from my own mat? I don't expect an answer to that. And to add insult to injury, the silver skinned freak placed his mat so he would be exactly in my sight line to the instructor. This lead me to view her in the adjacent glass mirror for most of the class, which I am sure is what the perps wanted. And it did not go unnoticed that the instructor's mat was not in the center at the front, but offset some 6' from her normal position to accomplish this line of sight blocking with the utter freak.
And to add this this curiosity, the class was scheduled at the same time there was a the Penticton Challenge Triathlon dinner only a half block away. Not that any athletes would go dressed in their presumed race clothing, as I attended this dinner two years ago when my visiting brother, and Challenge participant, gave me a free ticket for the dinner. Never in my life, such as it is, have I ever seen such an misplaced bizarre freak as this mat squatter, save for the silver painted man walking on the street in San Francisco (1996) when attending the Oracle Open World conference.
09-03-2015
I finished power washing the picking bins today; that would be four days worth, though I had other tasks to do. The perps love power washing for some reason, and all the better they can mess with the victim by taking his hand off the trigger anytime they want. There was at least 10 of these incursions a day while doing power washing. As part of the process I rotate the bins that are on one side so I can get to the side that was sitting on the ground to wash it. At the same time I get the upper inside, now vertical, to wash it too as it is easier to access. And in washing on this second pass, three bins in succession, why, my hand somehow let off the trigger as soon as I started on the new vertical inside panel (formerly horizontal at the top). Funny how that happens, har, har.
And of course the perps continue to exploit my vision as I have my old prescription which does not have the close-in (far sighted) focusing. Often times I rest the glasses to my forehead so I can read or otherwise see close. Other times I don't bother, say, when an object is reasonably familiar (e.g. dinner) and I don't need to inspect it. What the perps get from this variable object focusing I have no idea, but it seems to be a big deal. And of course too, seeing an object out of focus with my glasses on and then without brings them no end of nonconsensual experimental joy.
And 2015 is the Year of Permissible Salads on this nonconsensual gig. Almost every day of the week, where last year it was one per week at most. Mind you there isn't a whole lot of variability as I cut up cooked chicken, a regular staple since 2003 when I was allowed to live on my own. I would make the cooked chicken go into quesadillas on most meals, and then I would use it for my protein salad ingredient. All that stopped in 2006, and apart from First Feral Family offerings, I didn't make salads at all until 2014, and even then, on a limited basis, less than 3x/month. That changed when at the First Feral Family house over Christmas 2014 when my perp abetting mother was giving me salads almost every day for three weeks. I thought it most curious, and now in 2015, and especially since May, I have had salads most days of the week.
Also in contention for perp authorized diet change is eating eggs. Back in 2001, before this assault went berserk/overt the assholes turned me off eggs as it seemed I was getting some kind of reaction that wasn't making me feel all that well. After they went berserk/overt in 04-2002 I would be allowed eggs at the hospital, duly clustered among the gangstalking "patients", and eggs did not have a deleterious effect. Anyhow, I remained turned off them, and it is only two (responsible and relevant) books in 2015 that "encouraged" me (read mind controlled victim) to eat eggs again. And of course, no adverse reaction even if I have two in an omelet.
09-05-2015
I finished a Saturday of vineyard work at the alternate employer. It was cool and windy, with the Testalinden Forest Fire still burning in places on the opposite side of the valley. I had a turbaned partner on the other side of the row for half the morning, he of Punjabi decent and the orange turban matched the orange detail on his brown runners. On this theme last week, when finishing up and ready to drive home, why, a two tone brown pickup drives up beside me (parked off the road), and a turbaned Punjabi male rolls down the window to ask me if "our people had gone home yet?" My answer was "yes", as they had just done so, and he drove off ahead of me. Orange on brown again, three tones of the latter, his skin and the two on his pickup truck. The shenanigans the perps must go through over vehicle colors, both at the auto manufacturing plant and in arranging the phalanxes of gangstalking vehicles.
09-06-2015
Speaking of brown, a pig-out on Nutella yesterday and today, and I was totally disgusted in getting made to eat hydrogenated fats, aka "modified palm oil". The Nutella solution to getting trans fats out of the public eye is to change the product ingredient description. As long time readers will know, the perps have an abiding interest in fat consumption, and presumably lipid biogenesis. All those years of low fat diets are coming into disrepute because fat ingestion does not make one overweight the experts are saying. And for my efforts of getting rid of trans fats in my diet 30 years ago, and now regularly consuming coconut oil, I get stiffed with the Nutella-for-a-song price at the LD store and worse yet, eat too much of it in one sitting. I feel violated.
More power washing today, but this time it was my own vehicle at the much gangstalked car wash. Then a run down the highway for 20 minutes to dry the car off, and what a huge gangstalk traffic train it was in both directions. I almost got the split-couple treatment, he on a motorcycle (two wheel) and she on a three wheel motorcycle, matching colors of vehicles, helmets and garments, the whole over-the-top yuppie look. I say "almost" because at no time did my vehicle pass between them as they were sticking very close to each other and made lane changes exactly together. The same couple came to stalk me on these same vehicles some 5 months ago when exiting the woods after a hike on a more remote paved road. The split couple gangstalking tactic is known for ambulatory couples who somehow coordinate themselves, often at the last second to leave me with no alternate path but to pass between them. And of course I have no idea how much this "happened" before the perps went berserk/overt in 04-2002 as they were so very discreet about this. Now that I am in gangstalk hell, they have given themselves permission to do this with impunity.
Anyhow, I am going to post this Sunday night PDT, knowing that I will likely have little to say after a shut-in day of waxing and cleaning my vehicle for the winter ahead.
Yoga, and what a sight it was. Firstly though, the perps pulled a scab or otherwise inflicted me with some minor bloodletting on my shin just before class. Once class had begun, the assholes then caused it bleed again after I thought it was staunched with finger pressure. But no, they wanted more blood so I excused myself to get a band-aid from the front desk outside the practice room. I was attending to this when a man in a full-body suit, including his head but not his face, rushes past and enters the practice room. And not just any stretch fabric suit. but a tight and streamlined all over and in a reflective silver sheen with random red patterns printed on it. In 1996 while at a Oracle conference I witnessed on the streets in San Francisco a clothed man painted entirely in silver colored paint, including his skin. This freak in the yoga room was comparable as that a once in a lifetime all-out painted freak.
About a minute later I get the band aid applied and the wound staunched and I entered the practice room and this tight silver fabric covered freak was on my yoga mat with the instructor motioning him to take his own mat that was pulled from the shared mats. The obvious question was why was he on my mat when he grabbed a shared mat at the entrance and laid it down 2' from my own mat? I don't expect an answer to that. And to add insult to injury, the silver skinned freak placed his mat so he would be exactly in my sight line to the instructor. This lead me to view her in the adjacent glass mirror for most of the class, which I am sure is what the perps wanted. And it did not go unnoticed that the instructor's mat was not in the center at the front, but offset some 6' from her normal position to accomplish this line of sight blocking with the utter freak.
And to add this this curiosity, the class was scheduled at the same time there was a the Penticton Challenge Triathlon dinner only a half block away. Not that any athletes would go dressed in their presumed race clothing, as I attended this dinner two years ago when my visiting brother, and Challenge participant, gave me a free ticket for the dinner. Never in my life, such as it is, have I ever seen such an misplaced bizarre freak as this mat squatter, save for the silver painted man walking on the street in San Francisco (1996) when attending the Oracle Open World conference.
09-03-2015
I finished power washing the picking bins today; that would be four days worth, though I had other tasks to do. The perps love power washing for some reason, and all the better they can mess with the victim by taking his hand off the trigger anytime they want. There was at least 10 of these incursions a day while doing power washing. As part of the process I rotate the bins that are on one side so I can get to the side that was sitting on the ground to wash it. At the same time I get the upper inside, now vertical, to wash it too as it is easier to access. And in washing on this second pass, three bins in succession, why, my hand somehow let off the trigger as soon as I started on the new vertical inside panel (formerly horizontal at the top). Funny how that happens, har, har.
And of course the perps continue to exploit my vision as I have my old prescription which does not have the close-in (far sighted) focusing. Often times I rest the glasses to my forehead so I can read or otherwise see close. Other times I don't bother, say, when an object is reasonably familiar (e.g. dinner) and I don't need to inspect it. What the perps get from this variable object focusing I have no idea, but it seems to be a big deal. And of course too, seeing an object out of focus with my glasses on and then without brings them no end of nonconsensual experimental joy.
And 2015 is the Year of Permissible Salads on this nonconsensual gig. Almost every day of the week, where last year it was one per week at most. Mind you there isn't a whole lot of variability as I cut up cooked chicken, a regular staple since 2003 when I was allowed to live on my own. I would make the cooked chicken go into quesadillas on most meals, and then I would use it for my protein salad ingredient. All that stopped in 2006, and apart from First Feral Family offerings, I didn't make salads at all until 2014, and even then, on a limited basis, less than 3x/month. That changed when at the First Feral Family house over Christmas 2014 when my perp abetting mother was giving me salads almost every day for three weeks. I thought it most curious, and now in 2015, and especially since May, I have had salads most days of the week.
Also in contention for perp authorized diet change is eating eggs. Back in 2001, before this assault went berserk/overt the assholes turned me off eggs as it seemed I was getting some kind of reaction that wasn't making me feel all that well. After they went berserk/overt in 04-2002 I would be allowed eggs at the hospital, duly clustered among the gangstalking "patients", and eggs did not have a deleterious effect. Anyhow, I remained turned off them, and it is only two (responsible and relevant) books in 2015 that "encouraged" me (read mind controlled victim) to eat eggs again. And of course, no adverse reaction even if I have two in an omelet.
09-05-2015
I finished a Saturday of vineyard work at the alternate employer. It was cool and windy, with the Testalinden Forest Fire still burning in places on the opposite side of the valley. I had a turbaned partner on the other side of the row for half the morning, he of Punjabi decent and the orange turban matched the orange detail on his brown runners. On this theme last week, when finishing up and ready to drive home, why, a two tone brown pickup drives up beside me (parked off the road), and a turbaned Punjabi male rolls down the window to ask me if "our people had gone home yet?" My answer was "yes", as they had just done so, and he drove off ahead of me. Orange on brown again, three tones of the latter, his skin and the two on his pickup truck. The shenanigans the perps must go through over vehicle colors, both at the auto manufacturing plant and in arranging the phalanxes of gangstalking vehicles.
09-06-2015
Speaking of brown, a pig-out on Nutella yesterday and today, and I was totally disgusted in getting made to eat hydrogenated fats, aka "modified palm oil". The Nutella solution to getting trans fats out of the public eye is to change the product ingredient description. As long time readers will know, the perps have an abiding interest in fat consumption, and presumably lipid biogenesis. All those years of low fat diets are coming into disrepute because fat ingestion does not make one overweight the experts are saying. And for my efforts of getting rid of trans fats in my diet 30 years ago, and now regularly consuming coconut oil, I get stiffed with the Nutella-for-a-song price at the LD store and worse yet, eat too much of it in one sitting. I feel violated.
More power washing today, but this time it was my own vehicle at the much gangstalked car wash. Then a run down the highway for 20 minutes to dry the car off, and what a huge gangstalk traffic train it was in both directions. I almost got the split-couple treatment, he on a motorcycle (two wheel) and she on a three wheel motorcycle, matching colors of vehicles, helmets and garments, the whole over-the-top yuppie look. I say "almost" because at no time did my vehicle pass between them as they were sticking very close to each other and made lane changes exactly together. The same couple came to stalk me on these same vehicles some 5 months ago when exiting the woods after a hike on a more remote paved road. The split couple gangstalking tactic is known for ambulatory couples who somehow coordinate themselves, often at the last second to leave me with no alternate path but to pass between them. And of course I have no idea how much this "happened" before the perps went berserk/overt in 04-2002 as they were so very discreet about this. Now that I am in gangstalk hell, they have given themselves permission to do this with impunity.
Anyhow, I am going to post this Sunday night PDT, knowing that I will likely have little to say after a shut-in day of waxing and cleaning my vehicle for the winter ahead.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Locked In or Out
1240h
The absurdities just keep on coming; the lock on the front door to this apartment block is not working. Both the key in the door lock and the relay lock mechanism from the intercom panel box are not functioning. I learned this while a gangstalker was on my ass at the front door, a wizened granny in yellow, another "newcomer" to the building it would seem. No notice on the door of course, or in the elevators, and after a minute of the two of us fiddling with two locks, an outbound person opened the door for us. I thought we did the "no notice" stunt yesterday with the unannounced change in the yoga classroom, but this one tops the onset of the garbage chute shutdown stunt, (still in progress) another "no notice" event some months back. All part of the FUD, the Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt mandate the perps routinely deliver.
My big outing for the day was to walk outside for a block to the mail box and post a letter, and then to LD to get mouthwash. The freakshow was all in place for this 15 minute outing, with the strangest one being a gangstalker walking past the mailbox some 5 seconds after I had mailed the letter, holding an envelope that was folded in the middle, at orthogonal angles. And she didn't even post it, but kept it in hand as she cruised within 12" of the mailbox, presumably as some kind of reference/calibration item, for its color (white) and material (paper). Or call it, parallel action stalking, doing the same thing as I am, or close enough. Fucking bizarre, and another "never before" event.
I had my posse waiting for me at the LD store, this time in the aisles that I needed to visit. I was to get dental floss, but there was a fuckwit gangstalker standing over that section, with his mouth hanging open, as it was the rest of the time he tailed me to the checkout, and back and forth while I was there, and then he takes off, to leave another male gangstalker to arrive. And at the moment of keying in my password for the debit card, a kid screamed from outside, and then again. The gangstalker male had this odious British accent, and made a joke about the screaming, saying "we need a spot of murder". Hmm, the "murder" word is a favorite one to be noisestalked when encountering the term online, so I can only assume he was fulfilling the script. Other Unfavored demographic group representations were vagrants, stand around biddies, waddling obesers, hoodie acts and suits. They also put on five motorcycles outside the store for me to walk through, a ridiculous number, especially at 1130h on a weekday.
And that just might be the most exciting event today, given this week seems to be one designed as a "study in situ" after being away last week, and not unlike the week in advance of last week's excursion. A seeming pre and post away time containment of sorts. Even my email responses have been neutered today.
1535h
More online time has passed since the sirens went off for tea and chocolate, and then again after doing the dishes and sitting down at my desk. Now a train of loud mufflered vehicle noise has replaced the sirens in part, also aided by extra squeaky brake noise as well as some chirps which have erupted from nowhere. Just a regular dull day, never mind being rendered into a blah and demotivated state.
The perps planted the notion of Morgellons Disease in mind first thing this morning, and lo, if I didn't encounter this interesting article on the topic. The unfortuneate sufferers are finally getting some respect with the Center for Disease Control. And lo, if the medical establishment isn't up their hoary classifications of "delusional parasitosis" as their avoidance diagnosis. When the identical detailed symptoms/observations happen to two or more disparate individuals, it cannot be psychosis. This is what a doctor told me who has identified harassment as a cause of ill health among some of his patients. That it took so long to get the CDC to look into Morgellons is a tribute to clinical denial, and the power of being able to persuade one's political representatives. Thankfully, I don't have these symptoms, and the only reason I mention this disease, is that I have seen these very Morgellons fibers of a brownish coloration being remotely manipulated and pushing through channels drilled in my apartment walls, and then dangling down the wall. They have also been inserted into my vehicle among the floor's pile carpet. The perps also used them as fiber optic carriers, a little point source of light was aimed at me from the end of a fiber. I even found the fibers in a pot lamp housing that was immediately overhead, this being in a vertical standing tanning booth. Which is a long way of saying that these unfortuneate Morgellons Disease sufferers, over 12,000 in the US, could be the subject of remotely applied biological harassment. Nothing provable of course, but it does interest me that the perps took measures to ensure that I saw and even handled their fibers, and have likely guided me to see websites that describe similar fibers inserted into people as a possible planted disease. Why would they do that I wonder, exposing me to yet another prop of their depraved stunts, all arranged around the fact that they won't declare themselves and their human experimentation agenda. Beats me.
2250h
An earlier stunt by having me log off for no reason, all to stop the knee torquing that was imposed upon me at the time. This became a "need" for a nap, but 15 minutes worth of lie-down time did not bring sleep. Then a phone call, with no one to respond, and so onto other activities. Making tea and having chocolate for the third round of the latter today was the next activity. The stainless steel sink got extra scuzz on it while I was away, and so a round with oven cleaner "solved" that problem. I am sure there is some advantage for the perps to have this substance on hand, and occasionally used to clean their messes up, but I don't go too deep into their curious ways, and resign myself to the fact that they have it all figured out, right down to the (somehow) missed spot in the sink, every snort of oven cleaner I got up the nose, as well as imbalancing me at specific intervals.
I have been put through at least 10 unrinations today, all of them timed with respect to finishing reading a web page, finishing email, finishing up on a category of bookmarks, and before I headed out. It is all too odd, and I don't really need to pee all that often, perhaps 3x per day. More strategic pissing, something noted in past blog postings, and no doubt, of increasing importance to the third party making clunks overhead as I type this.
Time to call this day done, and ponder the night's interuptions. Last night it wasn't imposed dreams so much as imposed erections, something they get considerable mileage out of for whatever reasons, and it is not associated dream content, as there are no dreams during these episodes.
The absurdities just keep on coming; the lock on the front door to this apartment block is not working. Both the key in the door lock and the relay lock mechanism from the intercom panel box are not functioning. I learned this while a gangstalker was on my ass at the front door, a wizened granny in yellow, another "newcomer" to the building it would seem. No notice on the door of course, or in the elevators, and after a minute of the two of us fiddling with two locks, an outbound person opened the door for us. I thought we did the "no notice" stunt yesterday with the unannounced change in the yoga classroom, but this one tops the onset of the garbage chute shutdown stunt, (still in progress) another "no notice" event some months back. All part of the FUD, the Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt mandate the perps routinely deliver.
My big outing for the day was to walk outside for a block to the mail box and post a letter, and then to LD to get mouthwash. The freakshow was all in place for this 15 minute outing, with the strangest one being a gangstalker walking past the mailbox some 5 seconds after I had mailed the letter, holding an envelope that was folded in the middle, at orthogonal angles. And she didn't even post it, but kept it in hand as she cruised within 12" of the mailbox, presumably as some kind of reference/calibration item, for its color (white) and material (paper). Or call it, parallel action stalking, doing the same thing as I am, or close enough. Fucking bizarre, and another "never before" event.
I had my posse waiting for me at the LD store, this time in the aisles that I needed to visit. I was to get dental floss, but there was a fuckwit gangstalker standing over that section, with his mouth hanging open, as it was the rest of the time he tailed me to the checkout, and back and forth while I was there, and then he takes off, to leave another male gangstalker to arrive. And at the moment of keying in my password for the debit card, a kid screamed from outside, and then again. The gangstalker male had this odious British accent, and made a joke about the screaming, saying "we need a spot of murder". Hmm, the "murder" word is a favorite one to be noisestalked when encountering the term online, so I can only assume he was fulfilling the script. Other Unfavored demographic group representations were vagrants, stand around biddies, waddling obesers, hoodie acts and suits. They also put on five motorcycles outside the store for me to walk through, a ridiculous number, especially at 1130h on a weekday.
And that just might be the most exciting event today, given this week seems to be one designed as a "study in situ" after being away last week, and not unlike the week in advance of last week's excursion. A seeming pre and post away time containment of sorts. Even my email responses have been neutered today.
1535h
More online time has passed since the sirens went off for tea and chocolate, and then again after doing the dishes and sitting down at my desk. Now a train of loud mufflered vehicle noise has replaced the sirens in part, also aided by extra squeaky brake noise as well as some chirps which have erupted from nowhere. Just a regular dull day, never mind being rendered into a blah and demotivated state.
The perps planted the notion of Morgellons Disease in mind first thing this morning, and lo, if I didn't encounter this interesting article on the topic. The unfortuneate sufferers are finally getting some respect with the Center for Disease Control. And lo, if the medical establishment isn't up their hoary classifications of "delusional parasitosis" as their avoidance diagnosis. When the identical detailed symptoms/observations happen to two or more disparate individuals, it cannot be psychosis. This is what a doctor told me who has identified harassment as a cause of ill health among some of his patients. That it took so long to get the CDC to look into Morgellons is a tribute to clinical denial, and the power of being able to persuade one's political representatives. Thankfully, I don't have these symptoms, and the only reason I mention this disease, is that I have seen these very Morgellons fibers of a brownish coloration being remotely manipulated and pushing through channels drilled in my apartment walls, and then dangling down the wall. They have also been inserted into my vehicle among the floor's pile carpet. The perps also used them as fiber optic carriers, a little point source of light was aimed at me from the end of a fiber. I even found the fibers in a pot lamp housing that was immediately overhead, this being in a vertical standing tanning booth. Which is a long way of saying that these unfortuneate Morgellons Disease sufferers, over 12,000 in the US, could be the subject of remotely applied biological harassment. Nothing provable of course, but it does interest me that the perps took measures to ensure that I saw and even handled their fibers, and have likely guided me to see websites that describe similar fibers inserted into people as a possible planted disease. Why would they do that I wonder, exposing me to yet another prop of their depraved stunts, all arranged around the fact that they won't declare themselves and their human experimentation agenda. Beats me.
2250h
An earlier stunt by having me log off for no reason, all to stop the knee torquing that was imposed upon me at the time. This became a "need" for a nap, but 15 minutes worth of lie-down time did not bring sleep. Then a phone call, with no one to respond, and so onto other activities. Making tea and having chocolate for the third round of the latter today was the next activity. The stainless steel sink got extra scuzz on it while I was away, and so a round with oven cleaner "solved" that problem. I am sure there is some advantage for the perps to have this substance on hand, and occasionally used to clean their messes up, but I don't go too deep into their curious ways, and resign myself to the fact that they have it all figured out, right down to the (somehow) missed spot in the sink, every snort of oven cleaner I got up the nose, as well as imbalancing me at specific intervals.
I have been put through at least 10 unrinations today, all of them timed with respect to finishing reading a web page, finishing email, finishing up on a category of bookmarks, and before I headed out. It is all too odd, and I don't really need to pee all that often, perhaps 3x per day. More strategic pissing, something noted in past blog postings, and no doubt, of increasing importance to the third party making clunks overhead as I type this.
Time to call this day done, and ponder the night's interuptions. Last night it wasn't imposed dreams so much as imposed erections, something they get considerable mileage out of for whatever reasons, and it is not associated dream content, as there are no dreams during these episodes.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Blogone Late Today
2130h
Another day of toil in the daffodil fields today, picking the bulbs up and putting them in the boxes; at least 800' per row. Thankfully the regular foreman was there today. When I first started this morning the usual vexacious nutters weren't there, and I thought I would be less harassed and cranked up (read, made irritable by remote means). But at 0900h the Redshirt Freak arrives with an Indian woman in dayglo orange and fuschia. What a sight, with the first mentioned nutter buzzing around me, and making sure that I knew about it. Not only is he a vapid chatterer making no sense, but he has the fugliest dreadlock hair for a Caucasian. He wears a blood red colored shirt he takes off, puts on, and leaves unbuttoned, and circulates around me in varying states of shirtwear. In the crew bus he makes sure to hang around me, and lies flat on the seat. After lunch break, he was lying flat on the field, red shirt on. As I see it, his shirt color is one big red color energetics test, and he makes sure that it happens around me, or especially, when I am in the bus on a break.
Other crazy stuff is the quasi-military dude in a wide brimmed green bush hat, a matching green army shirt, and then has a green bandana to cover his face under his sunglasses. Totally absurd, as there isn't too much dust in any event. He too, circulated around me, making it obvious at one point, and then proceeded to kick up dust for me to breathe while he was walking past. Unbelievable; the dust-proofing fanatic intentionally kicks up dust for others to breathe.
This "bandana thing" has also another member, she wearing a red one over her face and under a wide brimmed white hat with sunglasses on. I assume this is yet more red color testing, not unlike the excessive hoodie acts that loiter in my proximity. This woman bulb picker seems to have the height and build of my daughter, though she speaks Portugese as her first language. Past experience has taught me that the perps can dynamically modify speech to have an accent or even another language if need be. As she seems to get "featured" as a gangstalker, it would seem that this person is indeed a morphover of someone I know well. I just don't know who, and I am sure that the perps enjoy making me guess, if not dropping the suggestion in the first place. And, it almost goes without saying, they like it very much when I am dead wrong.
And I noticed the foreman mentioned another dude by name, as this crew member's absence left a crew that was much quieter without his incessant chatter. This same dude picked up his paycheck at the office the same day I did last week, and has also "featured" himself too. The perps tell me this is my out-of-town brother, but again, who knows or cares; it is just another gangstalking and harassment abetting asshole as I see it. Or, I try to, as the perps have this guessing agenda for me to go through, but if left alone, I wouldn't bother to play this totally bullshit game of guessing who the morphover shill/operative is for real. I don't fucking care.
After a day of dealing with the nutters and bulb picking, and one less reprobate/nutter than weekdays (a Saturday today), I step off the bus at the usual downtown location, and besides the regular freaks, this reprobate bulb picker was "hanging around" in his red hoodie close to his face, (no hair showing). This is the guy that almost got canned last week, and who is dropped off and picked up by his foster parents esach working day, and seems to work only weekdays, and wasn't bulb picking today, and there he is downtown as a "greeting gangstalker" when I got off the bus. All I got was the stare-at-me fuck from him, not even the decency of "hello". It is more fucking unbelievable gangstalking as I see it, all to get the agitating reprobate some more "face time"; staring and loitering by name.
This won't be a detailed post today as I am still knackered (tired) after today's bulb picking, and don't have a whole lot of energy to deal with all the gory details of the harassment games. The perps fucked me out of taking water today, though they did "turn down" the weather, creating plenty of cooling cloud cover and a short spell of "fairy rain" that soaked my back for 20 minutes, and thankfully, without any wind that would of chilled me down. No one was prepared for rain today, and me especially.
Among the bulb picking crew there is a mysterious unwritten code as to who does what when, and it seems to involve selected "laborers"/wackos who get the specialized jobs elsewhere and not the grind of picking bulbs all day. And it is not like that they have senioirity, as two of these four dudes started later than I did, July 11. And when we get out of the bus, and are directed to get picking buckets for a walk through daffodil bulb pick after a churning by the plow, only me actually responds while everyone else stands there for some reason. And magically, they seem to get the buckets without having made any effort to walk the 20' to get them. It is most strange this unsaid command level that everyone else is plugged into, save me.
No more pictures today, the last upload is done. And severe typo sabotage; enough blogging for now.
2225h
One last picture as it "happens"; a view from my parent's place, looking down the street that is normally devoid of street parked vehicles, and here are 6 of 9 vehicles (plus flatbed truck on right side of the street) either a white or silver grey color. And there was even an additonal white vehicle that I cropped out. Taken 078-13-2008, 1441h. And by way of demonstration, their normally quiet street has now become a cyclist's throughfare for "some reason".
The above uploading, cutting and pasting and viewing of this one picture has got me at least three loud motorcycle moments, aka noisestaling with the most loathed noise of all (to me).
I am done for today, and will not be doing hard labor with the wackos; perhaps a more reflective blog will "arise" tomorrow, though I am getting plenty of perturbing detail deletions from my recall when ordinarily, pre-invasive remote recall access, this would not happen.
Another day of toil in the daffodil fields today, picking the bulbs up and putting them in the boxes; at least 800' per row. Thankfully the regular foreman was there today. When I first started this morning the usual vexacious nutters weren't there, and I thought I would be less harassed and cranked up (read, made irritable by remote means). But at 0900h the Redshirt Freak arrives with an Indian woman in dayglo orange and fuschia. What a sight, with the first mentioned nutter buzzing around me, and making sure that I knew about it. Not only is he a vapid chatterer making no sense, but he has the fugliest dreadlock hair for a Caucasian. He wears a blood red colored shirt he takes off, puts on, and leaves unbuttoned, and circulates around me in varying states of shirtwear. In the crew bus he makes sure to hang around me, and lies flat on the seat. After lunch break, he was lying flat on the field, red shirt on. As I see it, his shirt color is one big red color energetics test, and he makes sure that it happens around me, or especially, when I am in the bus on a break.
Other crazy stuff is the quasi-military dude in a wide brimmed green bush hat, a matching green army shirt, and then has a green bandana to cover his face under his sunglasses. Totally absurd, as there isn't too much dust in any event. He too, circulated around me, making it obvious at one point, and then proceeded to kick up dust for me to breathe while he was walking past. Unbelievable; the dust-proofing fanatic intentionally kicks up dust for others to breathe.
This "bandana thing" has also another member, she wearing a red one over her face and under a wide brimmed white hat with sunglasses on. I assume this is yet more red color testing, not unlike the excessive hoodie acts that loiter in my proximity. This woman bulb picker seems to have the height and build of my daughter, though she speaks Portugese as her first language. Past experience has taught me that the perps can dynamically modify speech to have an accent or even another language if need be. As she seems to get "featured" as a gangstalker, it would seem that this person is indeed a morphover of someone I know well. I just don't know who, and I am sure that the perps enjoy making me guess, if not dropping the suggestion in the first place. And, it almost goes without saying, they like it very much when I am dead wrong.
And I noticed the foreman mentioned another dude by name, as this crew member's absence left a crew that was much quieter without his incessant chatter. This same dude picked up his paycheck at the office the same day I did last week, and has also "featured" himself too. The perps tell me this is my out-of-town brother, but again, who knows or cares; it is just another gangstalking and harassment abetting asshole as I see it. Or, I try to, as the perps have this guessing agenda for me to go through, but if left alone, I wouldn't bother to play this totally bullshit game of guessing who the morphover shill/operative is for real. I don't fucking care.
After a day of dealing with the nutters and bulb picking, and one less reprobate/nutter than weekdays (a Saturday today), I step off the bus at the usual downtown location, and besides the regular freaks, this reprobate bulb picker was "hanging around" in his red hoodie close to his face, (no hair showing). This is the guy that almost got canned last week, and who is dropped off and picked up by his foster parents esach working day, and seems to work only weekdays, and wasn't bulb picking today, and there he is downtown as a "greeting gangstalker" when I got off the bus. All I got was the stare-at-me fuck from him, not even the decency of "hello". It is more fucking unbelievable gangstalking as I see it, all to get the agitating reprobate some more "face time"; staring and loitering by name.
This won't be a detailed post today as I am still knackered (tired) after today's bulb picking, and don't have a whole lot of energy to deal with all the gory details of the harassment games. The perps fucked me out of taking water today, though they did "turn down" the weather, creating plenty of cooling cloud cover and a short spell of "fairy rain" that soaked my back for 20 minutes, and thankfully, without any wind that would of chilled me down. No one was prepared for rain today, and me especially.
Among the bulb picking crew there is a mysterious unwritten code as to who does what when, and it seems to involve selected "laborers"/wackos who get the specialized jobs elsewhere and not the grind of picking bulbs all day. And it is not like that they have senioirity, as two of these four dudes started later than I did, July 11. And when we get out of the bus, and are directed to get picking buckets for a walk through daffodil bulb pick after a churning by the plow, only me actually responds while everyone else stands there for some reason. And magically, they seem to get the buckets without having made any effort to walk the 20' to get them. It is most strange this unsaid command level that everyone else is plugged into, save me.
No more pictures today, the last upload is done. And severe typo sabotage; enough blogging for now.
2225h
One last picture as it "happens"; a view from my parent's place, looking down the street that is normally devoid of street parked vehicles, and here are 6 of 9 vehicles (plus flatbed truck on right side of the street) either a white or silver grey color. And there was even an additonal white vehicle that I cropped out. Taken 078-13-2008, 1441h. And by way of demonstration, their normally quiet street has now become a cyclist's throughfare for "some reason".
The above uploading, cutting and pasting and viewing of this one picture has got me at least three loud motorcycle moments, aka noisestaling with the most loathed noise of all (to me).
I am done for today, and will not be doing hard labor with the wackos; perhaps a more reflective blog will "arise" tomorrow, though I am getting plenty of perturbing detail deletions from my recall when ordinarily, pre-invasive remote recall access, this would not happen.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Digging for Plastic
1700h
I am back in the hot seat after a First Feral Family dinner last night, and a stayover at my parent's place, and then digging in their garden to perform directed maintenance. As I have been doing backyard work for some months, today wasn't too different. The neighbors, or faux neighbors, start up their chainsaws, lawn mowers, usually in a prescribed sequential order, and I get my noise barrage in that form, rather than the downtown vehicular traffic roar that I get here at my apartment. Lucky me; there is a noise campaign everywhere I go.
The perps like me to do digging, soil excavation, planting trees and related horticultural work. I am a professional forester when I am allowed to work, and I suppose that is no coincidence either. I had the usual extra-conventional gravitic manipulations and harasssment applied to me while doing the work; extra runny nose, a whack in the back as if I wasn't crouching low enough (I was, this is an old "trick"), a whack in the face "from" a whippy shrub, and a few other imposed adversities. It is odd that I never "remember" to ask my mother for extra pay while being fucked over like this, but if I get paid out like all the other shills and quislings, it should be a decent payday.
I notice that the perps have arranged for my parents to install an irrigation system in their frontyard. A 60' trench has been dug, and the sods stacked beside the trench. I reckon this is a method to expose the subsoil to me while staying there, as it seems that mere gardening activity, including digging, isn't enough. And of course I was only allowed to figure out this now, and not when my mother was going on about the "slack" workers not showing up to finish the job
There has been a surfeit of irrigation installations on my walking beat; at least two public boulevards have been redone with irrigation (~300'), and of course, the work going on with the pipes and heads while walking past. I reckon there is a plastic (PVC) water energetic interaction that the perps are attempting to determine, and are using me as some kind of guinea pig. Regular readers will know that I installed 600' of 2" PVC water line at the farm I once owned with the ex, a financial disaster. From my perspective, it is another of the "been there, done that" category, and they don't have any fucking business to hound me over their problems that might relate to what they don't understand about PVC.
I once had two successive neighbors that burned PVC pipe in their garden refuse, and I always wondered how unlucky I was to have this occur, as dangerous dioxins get released. Now I know; a once covert agency knows that I have certain pollutants in me, and this creates a problem for them and their remote assay fuckery. They tell me, and I have not substantiated this, that the pollutants have certain quantum energy properties that cannot be predicted. So what, it isn't my problem, so why am I involved in it?
The typo sabotage is getting severe, as well as severe rage reactions are being imposed, so it is time to give this one a rest until the assholes settle down. Pre-mealtime is primetime harassment and abuse time.
1745h
The perps got me cranked up, and then dithered as to what I have in the fridge to eat. I had two options, and they wouldn't let me remember or know that this was the case, that there was leftovers from yesterday. That is how tight I am managed; I am not allowed to know in advance what my dinner will be, and nor am I allowed to recall what I have in the fridge. Fucking sick, and sad that some billion dollar budget operation had the wherewithal and the "need" to do this.
Yesterday's First Feral Family outing was scripted to have a visit to LD, the local superdrug store, comparable to Rite Aid. My mother needed some antihistamines, and so I drove the half block to park at the location that is viewable from this very office chair. How convenient it was availible. So with my father, mother and me making an ambulatory visit to the drug store I frequent, it was a golden gangstalk opportunity. There wasn't any Arab sheiks dressed up in robes this time, but it was fully stocked with the aisleway loitering nitwits attempting to look out of place, and my mother seemed to know where to go in the store, as I didn't, not having purchased antihistamines before. Then after a protracted "decision" as to which brand/price etc. she then "needed" to protract the exercise some more by consulting with the pharmacist. Anyhow, there was native Indian woman in a carmine red top ahead of her, and then vagrant type who got into a long voluble harangue all the time she was speaking with the pharmacist. There was at least one other vile red shirted individual coursing around, and he sauntered off ahead of the native Indian woman. The perps had me "interested" in the nearby omega 3,6,9 supplements, and to no surprise given the perps interests in this, there was a huge display, separated by an aisle so to expose me to both sides.
Once we left the store we went past the three white colored vehicles parked together, and then the three red colored vehicles, and no one said anything. Then the vile blonde helmet headed granny who stalks me mostly at my apartment "happened" to be coming by, and it was as if I hadn't gone anywhere. My in-apartment stalker had come to the LD store to gangstalk the three of us together. Later, when on the last suburban leg of the trip, my brother's new neighbor put on the lead-ahead vehicular gangstalk in a light metallic brown SUV to "welcome" us to the neighborhood, and made sure to have their kid on display some 10' from his driveway when I drove in.
At the First Feral Family dinner last night at my brother's place there was the usual fuckery and transparent activities; his sort-of native Indian (for brown skin "need" of the perps) came when we were all sitting at the table. Her arrivals have been highly varied; long in advance, after we arrive, making neighborhood "trips" while I was walking there from the bus trip, and other variants of timing with respect to our, or my, arrival. Her wine was poured at least 30 minutes before she arrived, and yet my brother was still suggesting that she "might" arrive.
And to heighten the fuckery, my brother passed three dishes right over top of my plate, then loaded with dinner, and didn't "somehow" have the fucking manners to ask me to pass the dish to his late arriving gangstalker pal. I thought it was outrageous the first time, but the perps would not let me reconcile this stunt with my knowledge of dinnertime manners, so I was made to fume over it, and not scream in his face which I would have done. (And have done in the past, and he somehow smirks, as the entire event was staged, and my "reactions" are all mind controlled to the script which he has likely rehearsed in advance).
Other games came later, with my father on his supposed Alzheimer's "agitation", standing up for no reason, spinning around in his chair to look at absolutely nothing. Sometimes I ask his what he is looking at at and he gives me this bullshit "huh". Other times he knows exactly what is going on, so I am not convinced the "condition" is for real, or is arranged as his cover story. I mentioned to my brother yesterday that I am not so sure it isn't an act and he didn't say anything. I guess he didn't have the chops to lie, so he said nothing, per perp script. I once asked my brother about an event when he "happened" to be out hiking when I was, though looking a little different so I wasn't sure. When he responded the perps made sure that I was not allowed to look him in the face when he was answering my question. Once I realized I was screwed out of exacting the circumspection I normally apply to quislings and like detritus, I knew he was culpable.
Other strange Feral Family goings-on yesterday was my in-town brother kicking the vehicle tires before we departed, with me as the only vehicle occupant at that moment. His "ersatz" safety check is the cover story, and then he got onto a new stunt. He rubbed the back window and the passenger side mirror in an apparent "attempt" to clean them when there was no cleaned needed whatsover. This seemed to be a method to apply his bioenergetic signature to the glass surfaces when he wasn't there. Every departure from his house is a stupid event; last time he got out the hose in an attempt to spray the vehicle for some imagined "problem", and I backed out before he could. Having seen this bullshit of partial vehicle spraying before, e.g. street boulevard sprinklers, it is time the perps gave this one a rest. I am not allowed to access my knowledge of the entire studpidity and the transparent perp fuckery that it embraces, and nor his extra uncharacteristic cheeriness.
I have the buzzy feet currently; they have been imparted this sensation of high vibration, and it continues even when I go to bed. It must me a way of correlating my bioenergetics between locations in my apartment as well as the prone position, in bed. The overhead clunking is noisestalking me on my typo corrections or anytime the perps make me annoyed over the typo sabotage that is going on, and hopefully repaired. The train whistle nonsense noise has started up; my mother told me that this was a common noise when we lived in Montreal in 1956-7, though I have no recall of this. No doubt the noise was perps managed, though in they do have a better cover story there than here. (One day train, and we are a half mile from the station, with at least 10 blocks of buildings in the way).
1825h
I am getting extensive forehead numbing applied to me, and it is highly agitating. This is where one's forehead is numbed, and it feels like it doesn't belong, and is instantly alleviated by rubbing my head, and changing the bioenergetic signature. This relief lasts a few minutes at best before it is applied again. I sense the real objective is the head rubbing exercise, given the high percentage of perp operatives rubbing their heads in public for no seeming reason, and even following the same protocol.
1830h
More rage-ification over typo sabotage repairs. And more noisestalking while this occurs. Regular readers will know that the stayover at my parents on Sunday nights, and the Monday departure, are prime harassment days, even to the point of extending it my keeping me awake for an extra four hours, or only allowing a REM sleep only. It is one day they go fucking beserk, and yet keep me inside once I return.
When I drove up in the vehicle after lunch, the perps had an adult dwarf "hanging around" the entrance to this apartment building. My mother was even scripted to give the topic more airtime by mentioning it, which I had already noticed. The person was dressed in black pants and a a white shirt, and I have no idea why this particular freak was assigned for sentry duty at that particular juncture. This kind of freak is rare, but the perps made sure that I noticed. Regular readers will know that I am constantly exposed to a freakshow, but as this was a instance of only 20 seconds of being outside on foot, they felt compelled to freakify that short interval. And lo, if they even put on a "doorman", someone suddenly exiting as I was approaching the front door; he less freakish, but still one of the Unfavored, a redhaired dude seeming in a hurry, maximizing his bioenergetic interaction, much like swiping a magnet; the faster it is swiped past a coil, the more electromagnetism it creates. And lo, if I didn't "happen" to forget all about this until I was reading about dwarf stars, and bingo, yet another "theme for the day" wasn't invoked.
The same theme fuckery has been "happening" over haircuts; I am going to get one tomorrow, and there has been at least three conversations that have been arranged where this topic has "somehow" been introduced.
2100h
More overhead rumbling that folllowed my every mouseclick; the perps have removed my link annotation that denotes past use, the purple color, and replaced it with blue again, all to have me re-visit past links. They combine this with recall deletion to effectively replicate linking and reading a web page anew. This is impossible in the unharassed world; once something is seen or read, it is old; seen previously. Well now, they can delete any of my recall, and do so routinely along with the converting the link color back to blue, and then walking me through I web page as if I hadn't seen it before, which is not true. Somewhere about halfway through do they all me to know what I know, and "recognize" the web page as one that was seen before. Only in this sick predicament is one's thoughts and knowledge kept from them.
2230h
Some interesting web troving on modified stereos caught my attention for a time, and that was duly noisestalked by the overhead pounding, albeit the soft thudding kind. The perps are very interested in anything that I find interesting as it seems they cannot yet fuck with this kind of mental process. Give then a few more weeks at best, and I won't know the difference.
A brutal day for typo sabotage and all round enragement games. Thank goodness I don't do anything complex, as it would be impossible to do with these assholes on my back. With stuttered navy blue plasma beams sitting over top of my hands, it is time to blog off, refrain from editing anymore and hope the above is coherent.
I am back in the hot seat after a First Feral Family dinner last night, and a stayover at my parent's place, and then digging in their garden to perform directed maintenance. As I have been doing backyard work for some months, today wasn't too different. The neighbors, or faux neighbors, start up their chainsaws, lawn mowers, usually in a prescribed sequential order, and I get my noise barrage in that form, rather than the downtown vehicular traffic roar that I get here at my apartment. Lucky me; there is a noise campaign everywhere I go.
The perps like me to do digging, soil excavation, planting trees and related horticultural work. I am a professional forester when I am allowed to work, and I suppose that is no coincidence either. I had the usual extra-conventional gravitic manipulations and harasssment applied to me while doing the work; extra runny nose, a whack in the back as if I wasn't crouching low enough (I was, this is an old "trick"), a whack in the face "from" a whippy shrub, and a few other imposed adversities. It is odd that I never "remember" to ask my mother for extra pay while being fucked over like this, but if I get paid out like all the other shills and quislings, it should be a decent payday.
I notice that the perps have arranged for my parents to install an irrigation system in their frontyard. A 60' trench has been dug, and the sods stacked beside the trench. I reckon this is a method to expose the subsoil to me while staying there, as it seems that mere gardening activity, including digging, isn't enough. And of course I was only allowed to figure out this now, and not when my mother was going on about the "slack" workers not showing up to finish the job
There has been a surfeit of irrigation installations on my walking beat; at least two public boulevards have been redone with irrigation (~300'), and of course, the work going on with the pipes and heads while walking past. I reckon there is a plastic (PVC) water energetic interaction that the perps are attempting to determine, and are using me as some kind of guinea pig. Regular readers will know that I installed 600' of 2" PVC water line at the farm I once owned with the ex, a financial disaster. From my perspective, it is another of the "been there, done that" category, and they don't have any fucking business to hound me over their problems that might relate to what they don't understand about PVC.
I once had two successive neighbors that burned PVC pipe in their garden refuse, and I always wondered how unlucky I was to have this occur, as dangerous dioxins get released. Now I know; a once covert agency knows that I have certain pollutants in me, and this creates a problem for them and their remote assay fuckery. They tell me, and I have not substantiated this, that the pollutants have certain quantum energy properties that cannot be predicted. So what, it isn't my problem, so why am I involved in it?
The typo sabotage is getting severe, as well as severe rage reactions are being imposed, so it is time to give this one a rest until the assholes settle down. Pre-mealtime is primetime harassment and abuse time.
1745h
The perps got me cranked up, and then dithered as to what I have in the fridge to eat. I had two options, and they wouldn't let me remember or know that this was the case, that there was leftovers from yesterday. That is how tight I am managed; I am not allowed to know in advance what my dinner will be, and nor am I allowed to recall what I have in the fridge. Fucking sick, and sad that some billion dollar budget operation had the wherewithal and the "need" to do this.
Yesterday's First Feral Family outing was scripted to have a visit to LD, the local superdrug store, comparable to Rite Aid. My mother needed some antihistamines, and so I drove the half block to park at the location that is viewable from this very office chair. How convenient it was availible. So with my father, mother and me making an ambulatory visit to the drug store I frequent, it was a golden gangstalk opportunity. There wasn't any Arab sheiks dressed up in robes this time, but it was fully stocked with the aisleway loitering nitwits attempting to look out of place, and my mother seemed to know where to go in the store, as I didn't, not having purchased antihistamines before. Then after a protracted "decision" as to which brand/price etc. she then "needed" to protract the exercise some more by consulting with the pharmacist. Anyhow, there was native Indian woman in a carmine red top ahead of her, and then vagrant type who got into a long voluble harangue all the time she was speaking with the pharmacist. There was at least one other vile red shirted individual coursing around, and he sauntered off ahead of the native Indian woman. The perps had me "interested" in the nearby omega 3,6,9 supplements, and to no surprise given the perps interests in this, there was a huge display, separated by an aisle so to expose me to both sides.
Once we left the store we went past the three white colored vehicles parked together, and then the three red colored vehicles, and no one said anything. Then the vile blonde helmet headed granny who stalks me mostly at my apartment "happened" to be coming by, and it was as if I hadn't gone anywhere. My in-apartment stalker had come to the LD store to gangstalk the three of us together. Later, when on the last suburban leg of the trip, my brother's new neighbor put on the lead-ahead vehicular gangstalk in a light metallic brown SUV to "welcome" us to the neighborhood, and made sure to have their kid on display some 10' from his driveway when I drove in.
At the First Feral Family dinner last night at my brother's place there was the usual fuckery and transparent activities; his sort-of native Indian (for brown skin "need" of the perps) came when we were all sitting at the table. Her arrivals have been highly varied; long in advance, after we arrive, making neighborhood "trips" while I was walking there from the bus trip, and other variants of timing with respect to our, or my, arrival. Her wine was poured at least 30 minutes before she arrived, and yet my brother was still suggesting that she "might" arrive.
And to heighten the fuckery, my brother passed three dishes right over top of my plate, then loaded with dinner, and didn't "somehow" have the fucking manners to ask me to pass the dish to his late arriving gangstalker pal. I thought it was outrageous the first time, but the perps would not let me reconcile this stunt with my knowledge of dinnertime manners, so I was made to fume over it, and not scream in his face which I would have done. (And have done in the past, and he somehow smirks, as the entire event was staged, and my "reactions" are all mind controlled to the script which he has likely rehearsed in advance).
Other games came later, with my father on his supposed Alzheimer's "agitation", standing up for no reason, spinning around in his chair to look at absolutely nothing. Sometimes I ask his what he is looking at at and he gives me this bullshit "huh". Other times he knows exactly what is going on, so I am not convinced the "condition" is for real, or is arranged as his cover story. I mentioned to my brother yesterday that I am not so sure it isn't an act and he didn't say anything. I guess he didn't have the chops to lie, so he said nothing, per perp script. I once asked my brother about an event when he "happened" to be out hiking when I was, though looking a little different so I wasn't sure. When he responded the perps made sure that I was not allowed to look him in the face when he was answering my question. Once I realized I was screwed out of exacting the circumspection I normally apply to quislings and like detritus, I knew he was culpable.
Other strange Feral Family goings-on yesterday was my in-town brother kicking the vehicle tires before we departed, with me as the only vehicle occupant at that moment. His "ersatz" safety check is the cover story, and then he got onto a new stunt. He rubbed the back window and the passenger side mirror in an apparent "attempt" to clean them when there was no cleaned needed whatsover. This seemed to be a method to apply his bioenergetic signature to the glass surfaces when he wasn't there. Every departure from his house is a stupid event; last time he got out the hose in an attempt to spray the vehicle for some imagined "problem", and I backed out before he could. Having seen this bullshit of partial vehicle spraying before, e.g. street boulevard sprinklers, it is time the perps gave this one a rest. I am not allowed to access my knowledge of the entire studpidity and the transparent perp fuckery that it embraces, and nor his extra uncharacteristic cheeriness.
I have the buzzy feet currently; they have been imparted this sensation of high vibration, and it continues even when I go to bed. It must me a way of correlating my bioenergetics between locations in my apartment as well as the prone position, in bed. The overhead clunking is noisestalking me on my typo corrections or anytime the perps make me annoyed over the typo sabotage that is going on, and hopefully repaired. The train whistle nonsense noise has started up; my mother told me that this was a common noise when we lived in Montreal in 1956-7, though I have no recall of this. No doubt the noise was perps managed, though in they do have a better cover story there than here. (One day train, and we are a half mile from the station, with at least 10 blocks of buildings in the way).
1825h
I am getting extensive forehead numbing applied to me, and it is highly agitating. This is where one's forehead is numbed, and it feels like it doesn't belong, and is instantly alleviated by rubbing my head, and changing the bioenergetic signature. This relief lasts a few minutes at best before it is applied again. I sense the real objective is the head rubbing exercise, given the high percentage of perp operatives rubbing their heads in public for no seeming reason, and even following the same protocol.
1830h
More rage-ification over typo sabotage repairs. And more noisestalking while this occurs. Regular readers will know that the stayover at my parents on Sunday nights, and the Monday departure, are prime harassment days, even to the point of extending it my keeping me awake for an extra four hours, or only allowing a REM sleep only. It is one day they go fucking beserk, and yet keep me inside once I return.
When I drove up in the vehicle after lunch, the perps had an adult dwarf "hanging around" the entrance to this apartment building. My mother was even scripted to give the topic more airtime by mentioning it, which I had already noticed. The person was dressed in black pants and a a white shirt, and I have no idea why this particular freak was assigned for sentry duty at that particular juncture. This kind of freak is rare, but the perps made sure that I noticed. Regular readers will know that I am constantly exposed to a freakshow, but as this was a instance of only 20 seconds of being outside on foot, they felt compelled to freakify that short interval. And lo, if they even put on a "doorman", someone suddenly exiting as I was approaching the front door; he less freakish, but still one of the Unfavored, a redhaired dude seeming in a hurry, maximizing his bioenergetic interaction, much like swiping a magnet; the faster it is swiped past a coil, the more electromagnetism it creates. And lo, if I didn't "happen" to forget all about this until I was reading about dwarf stars, and bingo, yet another "theme for the day" wasn't invoked.
The same theme fuckery has been "happening" over haircuts; I am going to get one tomorrow, and there has been at least three conversations that have been arranged where this topic has "somehow" been introduced.
2100h
More overhead rumbling that folllowed my every mouseclick; the perps have removed my link annotation that denotes past use, the purple color, and replaced it with blue again, all to have me re-visit past links. They combine this with recall deletion to effectively replicate linking and reading a web page anew. This is impossible in the unharassed world; once something is seen or read, it is old; seen previously. Well now, they can delete any of my recall, and do so routinely along with the converting the link color back to blue, and then walking me through I web page as if I hadn't seen it before, which is not true. Somewhere about halfway through do they all me to know what I know, and "recognize" the web page as one that was seen before. Only in this sick predicament is one's thoughts and knowledge kept from them.
2230h
Some interesting web troving on modified stereos caught my attention for a time, and that was duly noisestalked by the overhead pounding, albeit the soft thudding kind. The perps are very interested in anything that I find interesting as it seems they cannot yet fuck with this kind of mental process. Give then a few more weeks at best, and I won't know the difference.
A brutal day for typo sabotage and all round enragement games. Thank goodness I don't do anything complex, as it would be impossible to do with these assholes on my back. With stuttered navy blue plasma beams sitting over top of my hands, it is time to blog off, refrain from editing anymore and hope the above is coherent.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Brown Cardboard Boxes and Other Color Stunts
1440h
A busy Monday morning with my mother going downtown to acquire a brown folding chair in a brown cardboard box, white coated on the outside. It was the biggest exposition of red and yellow colored vehicles, clothes, street banners, shopping bags and other street features. Regular readers will know about the perp's fascination over the color brown, as well as their campaign to present this and other colors in all manner of objects, distances, lighting, provenance, spatial juxtaposition, orientation, direction of travel, beings (skin color) and all possible combinations and permutations in an ongoing orchestrated "environment" in constant attendance to time all actions and motions to subsecond levels. This was another such outing, and they go particularly nutty when I am out with any member of my family, aka the First Feral Family.
There has been no question the perps have been cranking up the exposures to reds, red variants, pinks, fuschias, and then adding yellow colors afterward. It used to be that if I parked beside a red vehicle, it would "disapear" in short order, within minutes if I wasn't looking (the prerequisite). Today though, while driving my mother's Ford Escape into downtown, they had a deep red metallic colored vehicle in front and behind me all the way in, and even tailed me to the parkade, covering me for some 15 minutes of driving on the same route. And when climbing up the floors of parked vehicles in the parkade, there was no end of red vehicles in varying degrees of illumination; from the outside (daylight) to the center (flourescent lighting) and mixtures of both.
And it "so happened" that floor #4 was painted red-orange to distinguish it, and lo, if the speed bump (don't ask) in the elevator area hadn't been painted yellow in the past few days. Then out on the street, there was the usual freakshow from the Unfavored, with the odd blonde of the Favored to provide some kind of karmic referencing, or at least, that is my interpretation as to why they are doing what they are. And lo, if at the first intersection, there wasn't a white and red ambulance parked on the sidewalk with its lights flashing, "attending" to some emergency. But that wasn't enough color games for the perps, because here comes the fire truck, yellow in the City of Victoria, with sirens blaring, coming down the center of the street, with most vehicles pulling off to give it passage like they are supposed to do. The fire truck made a 90 degree turn down the wrong way of a one way street in front of us, but they are allowed to do that. They then park in midstreet, and make out that there is some kind of emergency call. By then, my mother and I had crossed the road on the walk signal immediately following the fire truck, and my mother makes out like a kid, saying she wants to see what is going on. I didn't of course, as I have been through this stunt so many times.
Meanwhile, the three vagrants in teal green (all three), and one a native Indian (brown skin, a perp obsession), are also stopped some 30' ahead and doing the waving and pointing act that I see all the time.
Then onto the Bay, a downtown department store that anchors a downtown mall, to look at cotton sweaters, as my mother "needed" to get my father one. And so, it "so happens" that some were a light brown color, and others were a light blue, or navy blue, but the needed size was unavailible. I assume this was some kind of color calibration test, as we had been to that same location three weeks ago. Then up a floor to check out some garden furniture that my mother had supposedly seen a few days earlier, though it is curious, as she usually doesn't venture downtown without driving help, me usually. And lo, if it wasn't in a light brown fabric with a deep brown anodized metal frame. And lo, if there wasn't only one left, so no choice in picking an item. It weighed some 30lb, so it was my job to pack it with the aid of the top white plastic handle.
Then the protracted delay at the checkout; a customer ahead of us, for a few minutes, no problem. Then I had to bring the box around behind the counter to the checkout so "she could scan it", meaning, that there was some need to have it directly out of my view for a short time. Then a big deal over using "Bay customer points", to save another $30, and while this was going on, a cluster of mothers, young children and grannies were accumulating behind us, and one weird dude who was totally out of place on a weekday.
I packed this box through the shopping mall, up stairs, and was still walking faster than my mother, but I reckon that was the plan as the perps covet situations where they can send gangstalkers between us. When out on the street, I had my usual posse around me, popping out of stores, loading bays or otherwise loitering, and again when recrossing the intersection where the firetruck and ambulance had been. Both were emergency vehicles were gone, (some emergency), but the fire department's yellow pickup was parked in the street stalls.
Once across the street, there were about six dudes that coalesced in a gangstalk pack ahead of me, peeling off to building entrances enroute. And then with a train of at least three oncoming gangstalkers I had this fucking motorized wheelchair on my tail, and when it passed me it was this native Indian being without arms or legs. There was another wheelchair only half a block before. Anyhow, there were plenty of other players, but I could not understand why there were so many males wandering around, crossing the street and making busy, often with brown colored leather briefcases. Why, there was even the executive with a gimpy leg (waddling) act for me to see, looking suspiciously like former colleague from my forestry background.
Then, when driving back to my place, the perps had arranged a skinhead male on three of the four street corners, making it difficult to evade (avoid looking) while driving. Then, when at my apartment, I had the usual furtive middle aged male, dressed in a light sage green coat identical to the recently acquired microfiber cloth I now use to clean my glasses of the "nightime debris" that arrives on them, and a longhair brown dressed male freak was exiting the building. And lo, if the manager and his white bearded "assistant" weren't loitering and talking in the lobby with a 6' mirror door that was packed in brown cardboard. Can we say "enough brown" today? About 30 minutes later, the manager "happened" to be in the hallway on his cellphone, providing another voice tracking/gangstalking event. He has even "arrived" outside the laundry room on his cellphone when I am doing laundry, another perps obsession that regular readers will know about.
Instead of the perp operatives doing the brown cardboard packing on the street when I am proximate, it was me packing it for them, with multi-toned brown contents. I have moved so many times with the aid of brown cardboard boxes, so it makes me wonder what it is about that color that fascinates the perps so much, and why they are continuing this surrepticious stalking with varying colors, substances, clothing and vehicle colors?
Yesterday, when heading for the bus, they put on two independent males packing "takeout" food in brown paper bags, holding them in an identical manner, held oddly in front of them as if they couldn't get far enough away. In fact one of these, "somehow" showed up outside my apartment, and then again at the bus stop, heading the opposite direction. The Paper Bag Corps perhaps, an extension of the Coffee Corps, those dedicated gangstalkers carrying coffee in front of them in various mugs and paper cups of various sources.
And here is a convenient listing from my online status of my income tax returns; assessed (meaning first submission, and until 2006, with the aid of an accountant), and then reassessed (meaning, here is a bullshit gambit to have you sweat over your income tax return, or otherwise protract this event of proscessing it, per perp orders). Again, I have never had reassessments before, always paid my full share of taxes or done anything underhanded that would lead them to suspect me of anything illegal. None of it. BUT, ever since becoming a TI, this bullshit goes down. For TY2007 (last year), they unilaterally doubled my income, adding it in one box and not subtracting the identical amount from another box. (Somehow, the tax form software transposed the income entry). I have "won" every reassessment, meaning that my original return was supported with the requested information. And from 2003 to 2005, they kept hounding me for the same documentation, which they had on hand, making the 2004 and 2005 reassessments totaly superfluous.
So.. at the moment, they think I owe $2,500, but when they get round to processing the re-assessment per my original tax return, they will owe me about $80. All this to keep this exercise in play for longer; what they do all the time, the above mentioned brown box with chair purchase/checkout games being another example.
Date processed
Status of return
2007
Reassessment in progress -
Assessed April 10, 2008
2006
Reassessed April 16, 2007
Assessed March 26, 2007
2005
Reassessed August 4, 2006
Assessed April 24, 2006
2004
Reassessed January 30, 2006
Assessed June 28, 2005
2003
Reassessed April 25, 2005
Assessed September 30, 2004
1710h
I have just finished my new smaller one slice portions of tortilla for dinner. This has erupted with extra noise and activity while it is digesting as I write this. One "unconsidered" (read, no analytical thought allowed) outcome of the one slice portions is that a fridge stored slice could be eaten at lunch and dinner on the same day, with another for the next lunch until I cook again. This never happened before; with two slices of a total of four, lunch or dinner was either just cooked or leftover, happening both in the same day. The new smaller portion means that leftovers will carry for three successive meals before I cook again. And as I discovered, the dinner plate in the dish rack that is vertically stored can be directly used from the rack to the table, not having been stored horizontally in the stack in the cupboard. Given the amount of inanity that goes with the orientation of how I store things, it is another big deal for the perps. And they duly brought on severe glass bottle bashing noise in the hallway, had the seagulls mewing and flying outside my balcony, brought on a rain shower, extra vehicular traffic and noise, parked a commercial truck on the sidewalk, and had the manager natter on his cellphone in the hallway again, repeating his morning's visit after I returned from the above mentioned cardboard box stalking games. I said I wouldn't go into the tortilla dinner details again, but I just did. Hopefully this is the last posting on this topic, but often the extra perp activity reminds me of the significance of these changes to routine that the assholes invest so much effort into. (That is, I am recall deleted, as I once had a huge knowledge base on the significance of everything, but now that is controlled by the perps, hence being so "clueless" as to what is about to go down).
1905h
Picture time; each time I save a new cropped version of a picture in Picasa, I get noisestalked. Everything I do is of interest to the perps.
Here is a picture taken 04-16-2008, 1138h from outside my balcony. The white truck with the ladders, what I call "Ladder Patrol" as there are so many coursing or parking by me, is parked, and the two red colored vehicles are in motion (I think, as the traffic light would be green in their direction), though if stopped at the traffic light, that is "what happens" all the time of late; stopping over, or past, the white stop line and stopping one vehicle length behind another. On the street on the left, running to the top of the frame are dispersed; two deep metallic red vehicles, two silver grey vehicles, and two white vehicles. Hard to beat that for symmetry as well as using the vehicles in differing orientations and lighting conditions. At the bottom of the picture is this single building with two roof variants (an experiment perhaps?); bare EPDM, and then with gravel on it, each covering a differing business. And on the top most edge of the roof, partially obscured by the tree, is a "Greens Vehicle", ones carrying landscaping clippings and a plastic bin, both objects/subjects of extreme perp obsession and frequent placement in my proximity.
Taken 04-16-2008, 1138h; I count seven vehicles in this picture, with two of them behind the trees on the left. There is an additional red street banner on the extreme left, adding red fabric into the red vehicle mix. As best as I can tell, there are three black colored vehicles, and three silver grey vehicles, plus an additional two.
Here is a zoom in of the photo above, and one can see that the perps have arranged three same red colored vehicles abreast, two parked and one driving between them. An additional red corvette, and the very familair freakish skinhead that gangstalk in great abundance. The amount of red in this photo almost makes me sick looking at it, which might explain the ongoing overhead pounding (of 12" of concrete and steel) while I was cropping and saving it, twice, because "somehow" the original got overwritten and had to be re-imported.
Off the red track, here is what happens at my perp abetting parent's place in the service of experimentation with plastics, shaving devices and the razor blades. Like the gangstalkers who course around the open windows for no seeming reason, the shaving gear is getting its "light treatment" of sunlight through double paned glass. Regular readers will know that the perps have an obsession over plastics of many kinds, and also when shaving. This represents my father using the same shaving gear as I use, the most radical change he has made in shaving, probably ever. I wonder why.
Taken 04-22-2008, 1657h; two red vehicles with a white Ladder Patrol in front and a black rearmost vehicle on the right side parked file, and a red and silver grey vehicle on the opposite side. An operative appears to be crossing the street, though I am sure it was no fluke that he was standing on the yellow centerline, with his coffee mug no less (aka Coffee Corps), as I took the photo in a moment of exemplary timing. It would seem that taking photos serves the perps' ends as much as mine, and I suspect that the operative has some kind of energetic interaction with the yellow centerline that is getting registered by the camera sensor, at my eye of course. The black colored pickup truck rounding the corner with the way funky fuschia painted wood racks has to be a one of a kind; what guy would be seen dead with this color of accessory on his truck?
That is all the pictures for today, I am going to stretch them out for a few days' possibly because looking at all those red vehicles makes me ill, or more like, the perps make sure I have an adverse reaction to suit their neural explorations into why, and how I am so adversive to these colors. Not my problem, so why am I getting hounded all over town for it?
2225h
I listened to some interviews with Richard Hoagland and the John Lear. I suppose this counts as middle aged grey hair male observation time, not meaning to be disrespectful, but serving the perp objectives of getting more of the Unfavored demographic features given a sustained viewing. And plenty of plasma action over the LCD display and beside it; dark to light gradation games, yellow and green lighting Hoagland's face for some 10 minutes, and just the usual "augmentations".
2255h
I am listening to Jill Barber while editing and finishing this up. Thank goodness for full song samples, though I am sure that won't last long if she becomes as popular as I think she she will become. Time to blog off and call this one done and ponder the upcoming Monday nightime sleeplessness games.
A busy Monday morning with my mother going downtown to acquire a brown folding chair in a brown cardboard box, white coated on the outside. It was the biggest exposition of red and yellow colored vehicles, clothes, street banners, shopping bags and other street features. Regular readers will know about the perp's fascination over the color brown, as well as their campaign to present this and other colors in all manner of objects, distances, lighting, provenance, spatial juxtaposition, orientation, direction of travel, beings (skin color) and all possible combinations and permutations in an ongoing orchestrated "environment" in constant attendance to time all actions and motions to subsecond levels. This was another such outing, and they go particularly nutty when I am out with any member of my family, aka the First Feral Family.
There has been no question the perps have been cranking up the exposures to reds, red variants, pinks, fuschias, and then adding yellow colors afterward. It used to be that if I parked beside a red vehicle, it would "disapear" in short order, within minutes if I wasn't looking (the prerequisite). Today though, while driving my mother's Ford Escape into downtown, they had a deep red metallic colored vehicle in front and behind me all the way in, and even tailed me to the parkade, covering me for some 15 minutes of driving on the same route. And when climbing up the floors of parked vehicles in the parkade, there was no end of red vehicles in varying degrees of illumination; from the outside (daylight) to the center (flourescent lighting) and mixtures of both.
And it "so happened" that floor #4 was painted red-orange to distinguish it, and lo, if the speed bump (don't ask) in the elevator area hadn't been painted yellow in the past few days. Then out on the street, there was the usual freakshow from the Unfavored, with the odd blonde of the Favored to provide some kind of karmic referencing, or at least, that is my interpretation as to why they are doing what they are. And lo, if at the first intersection, there wasn't a white and red ambulance parked on the sidewalk with its lights flashing, "attending" to some emergency. But that wasn't enough color games for the perps, because here comes the fire truck, yellow in the City of Victoria, with sirens blaring, coming down the center of the street, with most vehicles pulling off to give it passage like they are supposed to do. The fire truck made a 90 degree turn down the wrong way of a one way street in front of us, but they are allowed to do that. They then park in midstreet, and make out that there is some kind of emergency call. By then, my mother and I had crossed the road on the walk signal immediately following the fire truck, and my mother makes out like a kid, saying she wants to see what is going on. I didn't of course, as I have been through this stunt so many times.
Meanwhile, the three vagrants in teal green (all three), and one a native Indian (brown skin, a perp obsession), are also stopped some 30' ahead and doing the waving and pointing act that I see all the time.
Then onto the Bay, a downtown department store that anchors a downtown mall, to look at cotton sweaters, as my mother "needed" to get my father one. And so, it "so happens" that some were a light brown color, and others were a light blue, or navy blue, but the needed size was unavailible. I assume this was some kind of color calibration test, as we had been to that same location three weeks ago. Then up a floor to check out some garden furniture that my mother had supposedly seen a few days earlier, though it is curious, as she usually doesn't venture downtown without driving help, me usually. And lo, if it wasn't in a light brown fabric with a deep brown anodized metal frame. And lo, if there wasn't only one left, so no choice in picking an item. It weighed some 30lb, so it was my job to pack it with the aid of the top white plastic handle.
Then the protracted delay at the checkout; a customer ahead of us, for a few minutes, no problem. Then I had to bring the box around behind the counter to the checkout so "she could scan it", meaning, that there was some need to have it directly out of my view for a short time. Then a big deal over using "Bay customer points", to save another $30, and while this was going on, a cluster of mothers, young children and grannies were accumulating behind us, and one weird dude who was totally out of place on a weekday.
I packed this box through the shopping mall, up stairs, and was still walking faster than my mother, but I reckon that was the plan as the perps covet situations where they can send gangstalkers between us. When out on the street, I had my usual posse around me, popping out of stores, loading bays or otherwise loitering, and again when recrossing the intersection where the firetruck and ambulance had been. Both were emergency vehicles were gone, (some emergency), but the fire department's yellow pickup was parked in the street stalls.
Once across the street, there were about six dudes that coalesced in a gangstalk pack ahead of me, peeling off to building entrances enroute. And then with a train of at least three oncoming gangstalkers I had this fucking motorized wheelchair on my tail, and when it passed me it was this native Indian being without arms or legs. There was another wheelchair only half a block before. Anyhow, there were plenty of other players, but I could not understand why there were so many males wandering around, crossing the street and making busy, often with brown colored leather briefcases. Why, there was even the executive with a gimpy leg (waddling) act for me to see, looking suspiciously like former colleague from my forestry background.
Then, when driving back to my place, the perps had arranged a skinhead male on three of the four street corners, making it difficult to evade (avoid looking) while driving. Then, when at my apartment, I had the usual furtive middle aged male, dressed in a light sage green coat identical to the recently acquired microfiber cloth I now use to clean my glasses of the "nightime debris" that arrives on them, and a longhair brown dressed male freak was exiting the building. And lo, if the manager and his white bearded "assistant" weren't loitering and talking in the lobby with a 6' mirror door that was packed in brown cardboard. Can we say "enough brown" today? About 30 minutes later, the manager "happened" to be in the hallway on his cellphone, providing another voice tracking/gangstalking event. He has even "arrived" outside the laundry room on his cellphone when I am doing laundry, another perps obsession that regular readers will know about.
Instead of the perp operatives doing the brown cardboard packing on the street when I am proximate, it was me packing it for them, with multi-toned brown contents. I have moved so many times with the aid of brown cardboard boxes, so it makes me wonder what it is about that color that fascinates the perps so much, and why they are continuing this surrepticious stalking with varying colors, substances, clothing and vehicle colors?
Yesterday, when heading for the bus, they put on two independent males packing "takeout" food in brown paper bags, holding them in an identical manner, held oddly in front of them as if they couldn't get far enough away. In fact one of these, "somehow" showed up outside my apartment, and then again at the bus stop, heading the opposite direction. The Paper Bag Corps perhaps, an extension of the Coffee Corps, those dedicated gangstalkers carrying coffee in front of them in various mugs and paper cups of various sources.
And here is a convenient listing from my online status of my income tax returns; assessed (meaning first submission, and until 2006, with the aid of an accountant), and then reassessed (meaning, here is a bullshit gambit to have you sweat over your income tax return, or otherwise protract this event of proscessing it, per perp orders). Again, I have never had reassessments before, always paid my full share of taxes or done anything underhanded that would lead them to suspect me of anything illegal. None of it. BUT, ever since becoming a TI, this bullshit goes down. For TY2007 (last year), they unilaterally doubled my income, adding it in one box and not subtracting the identical amount from another box. (Somehow, the tax form software transposed the income entry). I have "won" every reassessment, meaning that my original return was supported with the requested information. And from 2003 to 2005, they kept hounding me for the same documentation, which they had on hand, making the 2004 and 2005 reassessments totaly superfluous.
So.. at the moment, they think I owe $2,500, but when they get round to processing the re-assessment per my original tax return, they will owe me about $80. All this to keep this exercise in play for longer; what they do all the time, the above mentioned brown box with chair purchase/checkout games being another example.
Date processed
Status of return
2007
Reassessment in progress -
Assessed April 10, 2008
2006
Reassessed April 16, 2007
Assessed March 26, 2007
2005
Reassessed August 4, 2006
Assessed April 24, 2006
2004
Reassessed January 30, 2006
Assessed June 28, 2005
2003
Reassessed April 25, 2005
Assessed September 30, 2004
1710h
I have just finished my new smaller one slice portions of tortilla for dinner. This has erupted with extra noise and activity while it is digesting as I write this. One "unconsidered" (read, no analytical thought allowed) outcome of the one slice portions is that a fridge stored slice could be eaten at lunch and dinner on the same day, with another for the next lunch until I cook again. This never happened before; with two slices of a total of four, lunch or dinner was either just cooked or leftover, happening both in the same day. The new smaller portion means that leftovers will carry for three successive meals before I cook again. And as I discovered, the dinner plate in the dish rack that is vertically stored can be directly used from the rack to the table, not having been stored horizontally in the stack in the cupboard. Given the amount of inanity that goes with the orientation of how I store things, it is another big deal for the perps. And they duly brought on severe glass bottle bashing noise in the hallway, had the seagulls mewing and flying outside my balcony, brought on a rain shower, extra vehicular traffic and noise, parked a commercial truck on the sidewalk, and had the manager natter on his cellphone in the hallway again, repeating his morning's visit after I returned from the above mentioned cardboard box stalking games. I said I wouldn't go into the tortilla dinner details again, but I just did. Hopefully this is the last posting on this topic, but often the extra perp activity reminds me of the significance of these changes to routine that the assholes invest so much effort into. (That is, I am recall deleted, as I once had a huge knowledge base on the significance of everything, but now that is controlled by the perps, hence being so "clueless" as to what is about to go down).
1905h
Picture time; each time I save a new cropped version of a picture in Picasa, I get noisestalked. Everything I do is of interest to the perps.
Here is a picture taken 04-16-2008, 1138h from outside my balcony. The white truck with the ladders, what I call "Ladder Patrol" as there are so many coursing or parking by me, is parked, and the two red colored vehicles are in motion (I think, as the traffic light would be green in their direction), though if stopped at the traffic light, that is "what happens" all the time of late; stopping over, or past, the white stop line and stopping one vehicle length behind another. On the street on the left, running to the top of the frame are dispersed; two deep metallic red vehicles, two silver grey vehicles, and two white vehicles. Hard to beat that for symmetry as well as using the vehicles in differing orientations and lighting conditions. At the bottom of the picture is this single building with two roof variants (an experiment perhaps?); bare EPDM, and then with gravel on it, each covering a differing business. And on the top most edge of the roof, partially obscured by the tree, is a "Greens Vehicle", ones carrying landscaping clippings and a plastic bin, both objects/subjects of extreme perp obsession and frequent placement in my proximity.
Taken 04-16-2008, 1138h; I count seven vehicles in this picture, with two of them behind the trees on the left. There is an additional red street banner on the extreme left, adding red fabric into the red vehicle mix. As best as I can tell, there are three black colored vehicles, and three silver grey vehicles, plus an additional two.
Here is a zoom in of the photo above, and one can see that the perps have arranged three same red colored vehicles abreast, two parked and one driving between them. An additional red corvette, and the very familair freakish skinhead that gangstalk in great abundance. The amount of red in this photo almost makes me sick looking at it, which might explain the ongoing overhead pounding (of 12" of concrete and steel) while I was cropping and saving it, twice, because "somehow" the original got overwritten and had to be re-imported.
Off the red track, here is what happens at my perp abetting parent's place in the service of experimentation with plastics, shaving devices and the razor blades. Like the gangstalkers who course around the open windows for no seeming reason, the shaving gear is getting its "light treatment" of sunlight through double paned glass. Regular readers will know that the perps have an obsession over plastics of many kinds, and also when shaving. This represents my father using the same shaving gear as I use, the most radical change he has made in shaving, probably ever. I wonder why.
Taken 04-22-2008, 1657h; two red vehicles with a white Ladder Patrol in front and a black rearmost vehicle on the right side parked file, and a red and silver grey vehicle on the opposite side. An operative appears to be crossing the street, though I am sure it was no fluke that he was standing on the yellow centerline, with his coffee mug no less (aka Coffee Corps), as I took the photo in a moment of exemplary timing. It would seem that taking photos serves the perps' ends as much as mine, and I suspect that the operative has some kind of energetic interaction with the yellow centerline that is getting registered by the camera sensor, at my eye of course. The black colored pickup truck rounding the corner with the way funky fuschia painted wood racks has to be a one of a kind; what guy would be seen dead with this color of accessory on his truck?
That is all the pictures for today, I am going to stretch them out for a few days' possibly because looking at all those red vehicles makes me ill, or more like, the perps make sure I have an adverse reaction to suit their neural explorations into why, and how I am so adversive to these colors. Not my problem, so why am I getting hounded all over town for it?
2225h
I listened to some interviews with Richard Hoagland and the John Lear. I suppose this counts as middle aged grey hair male observation time, not meaning to be disrespectful, but serving the perp objectives of getting more of the Unfavored demographic features given a sustained viewing. And plenty of plasma action over the LCD display and beside it; dark to light gradation games, yellow and green lighting Hoagland's face for some 10 minutes, and just the usual "augmentations".
2255h
I am listening to Jill Barber while editing and finishing this up. Thank goodness for full song samples, though I am sure that won't last long if she becomes as popular as I think she she will become. Time to blog off and call this one done and ponder the upcoming Monday nightime sleeplessness games.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Pound Ceiling When Victim's Online Image is Changes
1045h
The title is a putative instruction I concocted that could be in the harassment procedures manual. Have a web image of two attractive women, have me mouse click on it, and then swap the image for a bald headed negro male, a three times Unfavored image (bald, negro, male). And while conducting this illegal computer intrusion, pound the ceiling at the same time. Obviously the perps are attempting to link my reaction to the imagery swap to the ongoing noise imposition, ceiling pounding (of concrete no less), being a standardized noise. Anyhow, it is a small example of the detail the perps go through in evaluating my reaction to the Favored, and then immediately thereafter, the Unfavored, details availible at the link.
I had another example of this stunt, and it was blanked out of mind.
1115h
I am getting a persistent pain in my left jaw joint region, which might be a perps continuation of the left side temple pains they laid on me yesterday. And along with that, they are also persisting in placing a fuzzy maser ball in my central vision that tracks exactly where I am reading. More fuckery from sick minds.
1130h
More painful left jaw hits; one pain burst was timed for when I was reading the word "magnetic", one of the core technologies that the perps use to apply their extra-conventional gravitic fuckery as well as localized pain and noise.
Yesterday evening, the perps hit me with some head pain for which they had me ranting about, and while doing so, they directed my attention to the picture of an attractive blonde woman who was the web author. This is a new combination of harassments, directed attention while enraged after being provoked. It never ends, the combinations and permutaions of being totally fucked with.
1645h
Back at my desk, and getting a steady stream of vehicles with loud muffler noise of the unmaintained kind. These hoarse muffler noises seem to be "in" of late, and the two cycle motorcycle noises of lesser importance, though I cannot stand either of them.
I was out at the doctor's office today, doing a 30 minute walk to get there, and had the usual 600 to 1,000 vehicles on gangstalking duty, perhaps more, as I took a different route as I had come from a social workers' office.
My prior short in-town walk to that office was gangstalked in the extreme; it was about 1250h, and the cover story would of been that these folks were on their lunch break. I had two ambulatory male oversized waddlers on the sidewalk who then "showed up" some 20 minutes later on my walk to the doctors. An obvious planting of the same operatives, as no one walks as fast I as do nowadays. As always, the surfeit of waddling males is nothing new. It was a worse freakshow at the social workers' office; one male came at me from across the office to the office door, and then returned to a seat. This strange behavior was all about getting me to see the ugliest hairdo yet; green corded hair like some kind of clown. I got another corded hair job yesterday, this one with natural colored brown hair, on "door duty", keeping the apartment door open for me when I arrived as she "happened" to be departing. I have met this same woman three times in the apartment lobby, passing by each time, and getting her ugly hairdo seen when I enter the building. This must still be a large energetic transition moment for which the perps cannot yet figure out.
For today's outing I got the four gangstalkers in the elevator again, one a child in a transparent plastic covered stroller. I have seen a number of these plastic rain covers over strollers in the past few days, and it does not make any conventional sense, as there is no threat of rain. My assumption this is an emulation of the plastic pollutants in my system, and having the child as a gangstalker and behind plastic just might help the perps in their remote assay games. Regular readers will know of the perps' obsessions over placing plastics around me and the various games that go on to flick and otherwise accelerate the movement of said plastic props in my proximity.
I got more brown color treatment when out; after making a 90 degree turn, there was a brown colored Volvo at the curb, and the brown dressed owner had just opened the door with more brown colored trim, and only 10' distant was a male brown dressed gangstalker standing still in mid sidewalk on his cell phone, typically used for creating extra electromagnetic field around in the local area. And lo, if there weren't countless brown colored soil-like dust clots on the sidewalk, "browning in" more of the immediate scene. This was a big deal I suppose, as this little scene was set up and timed to the fraction of a second.
Today's vehicular gangstalking was full of Volvos (l like them, and owned them for 20 years) and BMW 3 series, especially the wagon version. The perps even put the BMW's in clusters of two's and threes, something I hadn't seen before. And then come similarly shaped models from other vehicle manufacturers, and often these are scaled down versions, such as the Mazda three door model, the name escaping me for the time being, even if I pass a Mazda dealership often.
And my doctor is moving on he stated; no difference there for me, I was talking to a wall anyhow. He is Asian, and I considered this to be Asian male "face time", my once per month session at the behest of my mind-keepers. Interestingly, the perps are moving me up the brown (skin) scale, as the next doctor will be and East Indian; this is a repeat of their doctor visit stunts of 1997 to 1999 games when I had an obdurate East Indian woman doctor who kept blowing me off about my complaints. I always wondered why she was often looking at the ceiling each time she spoke with me, and it confirms what I have noticed about other shills; they must be getting a text script feed on the retina of their upper eye. Now, it is going to be a deeper shade of brown skin color, and a male doctor. That is likely to serve for another 18 months if the current doctor's duration is a guide. Then who knows, a deep dark skinned African doctor after that, and by then, the perps' brown fixation should be over. Lucky me, only another three years of unmitigated hell from the sickos that created these problems in the first place, and then have trashed the hell out of my existence while they attempt to figure out the pychic damage. Not my problem, and why am I being involved in it?
That stock rejoinder of the above paragraph gets routinely trotted out by way of planted thoughts, and today, I got special noisestalking while keying it in, so there must be something more that the perps want other than controlling me as to what they are scripting me to type.
I told my doctor about various financial needs, most related to the harassment; the frypan with the self-popping spot welds, the self-shredding sheets and the accelerated wear down of my last pair of runners, all perp invoked by remote means. He didn't even blink as to these incredible oddities, indicating to me this was all scripted, as the perps would choke me down if I got into unscripted revelations. The doctor was also doing his best to put his head in front of his LCD display on his PC, moving it back and forth with partial overlaps of the blue colored screen. My perp abetting mother does similar actions; "explaining a problem" with her PC, and flicking her hands in front of the CRT display in an over-obvious attempt to do the perp's bidding. The obvious incidence of hand waving and flicking behavior began when this harassment began.
I got more "blonde stalking" today; one on lead-ahead duty was tailing me for 10 minutes, counting the alternate routes we took around the same block, "showing up" again, aka reprising herself on an unlikely route by anyone's standards who knows this town. They are now appearing as the lastmost gangstalker before my apartment block it seems. After the above mentioned blonde crossed paths with me some 100' from my apartment building, a clip clopping (footwear noise) blonde woman in light brown, red shoes and red lipstick followed me into the building and into the elevator, carrying a Starbuck's coffee (brown color reference) in a grey tray, making her as a member of the Coffe Corps. She looked way overdone for this building; in her late 50's, nice clothes, and coming into a predominantly studio suite building. Anyhow, strange behavior of others in my proximity is nothing new.
1955h
The kerchunk noises are coming on; this particular back beat sound is like no other, and has followed me from Seattle in 2002, to every residence (now seven) since to the present. It is truly amazing that my "neighbors" can make the same sounds with the same coordination with other events, e.g. web page changes, an uncontrolled thought, a pain twinge, reading specific "hot" words, and so it goes. I might as well as be talking to the wall, just like the above mentioned doctor, as none of this makes sense in any scenario except persecutorial harassment in the service of nonconsensual human experimentation and no one wants to hear about it.
The left jaw pain has been coming and going all day, and it often gets invoked in similar circumstances as per above mentioned kerchunk sounds.
2030h
And here is James Henry Graf, the eloquent activist that I know of describing the same pit of hell that I am in Your Brain Is the Battleground;
More of James Henry Graf's pithy and eloquent treatise is at this link as well, Virtual America. Make that Virtual Canada as too, as I have been equally harassed in both countires. Here is a particularly resonant quote from the linked page; based on my experience, he does not exaggerate in the least;
2320h
Time to call this done; my YouTubing is getting hacked more often now. I get audio and vison desybchronization, darkened down stage shots and smeared over personages. All part of the functional decomposition of my bioenergetic being, down to everything I see, hear, think or conclude.
The title is a putative instruction I concocted that could be in the harassment procedures manual. Have a web image of two attractive women, have me mouse click on it, and then swap the image for a bald headed negro male, a three times Unfavored image (bald, negro, male). And while conducting this illegal computer intrusion, pound the ceiling at the same time. Obviously the perps are attempting to link my reaction to the imagery swap to the ongoing noise imposition, ceiling pounding (of concrete no less), being a standardized noise. Anyhow, it is a small example of the detail the perps go through in evaluating my reaction to the Favored, and then immediately thereafter, the Unfavored, details availible at the link.
I had another example of this stunt, and it was blanked out of mind.
1115h
I am getting a persistent pain in my left jaw joint region, which might be a perps continuation of the left side temple pains they laid on me yesterday. And along with that, they are also persisting in placing a fuzzy maser ball in my central vision that tracks exactly where I am reading. More fuckery from sick minds.
1130h
More painful left jaw hits; one pain burst was timed for when I was reading the word "magnetic", one of the core technologies that the perps use to apply their extra-conventional gravitic fuckery as well as localized pain and noise.
Yesterday evening, the perps hit me with some head pain for which they had me ranting about, and while doing so, they directed my attention to the picture of an attractive blonde woman who was the web author. This is a new combination of harassments, directed attention while enraged after being provoked. It never ends, the combinations and permutaions of being totally fucked with.
1645h
Back at my desk, and getting a steady stream of vehicles with loud muffler noise of the unmaintained kind. These hoarse muffler noises seem to be "in" of late, and the two cycle motorcycle noises of lesser importance, though I cannot stand either of them.
I was out at the doctor's office today, doing a 30 minute walk to get there, and had the usual 600 to 1,000 vehicles on gangstalking duty, perhaps more, as I took a different route as I had come from a social workers' office.
My prior short in-town walk to that office was gangstalked in the extreme; it was about 1250h, and the cover story would of been that these folks were on their lunch break. I had two ambulatory male oversized waddlers on the sidewalk who then "showed up" some 20 minutes later on my walk to the doctors. An obvious planting of the same operatives, as no one walks as fast I as do nowadays. As always, the surfeit of waddling males is nothing new. It was a worse freakshow at the social workers' office; one male came at me from across the office to the office door, and then returned to a seat. This strange behavior was all about getting me to see the ugliest hairdo yet; green corded hair like some kind of clown. I got another corded hair job yesterday, this one with natural colored brown hair, on "door duty", keeping the apartment door open for me when I arrived as she "happened" to be departing. I have met this same woman three times in the apartment lobby, passing by each time, and getting her ugly hairdo seen when I enter the building. This must still be a large energetic transition moment for which the perps cannot yet figure out.
For today's outing I got the four gangstalkers in the elevator again, one a child in a transparent plastic covered stroller. I have seen a number of these plastic rain covers over strollers in the past few days, and it does not make any conventional sense, as there is no threat of rain. My assumption this is an emulation of the plastic pollutants in my system, and having the child as a gangstalker and behind plastic just might help the perps in their remote assay games. Regular readers will know of the perps' obsessions over placing plastics around me and the various games that go on to flick and otherwise accelerate the movement of said plastic props in my proximity.
I got more brown color treatment when out; after making a 90 degree turn, there was a brown colored Volvo at the curb, and the brown dressed owner had just opened the door with more brown colored trim, and only 10' distant was a male brown dressed gangstalker standing still in mid sidewalk on his cell phone, typically used for creating extra electromagnetic field around in the local area. And lo, if there weren't countless brown colored soil-like dust clots on the sidewalk, "browning in" more of the immediate scene. This was a big deal I suppose, as this little scene was set up and timed to the fraction of a second.
Today's vehicular gangstalking was full of Volvos (l like them, and owned them for 20 years) and BMW 3 series, especially the wagon version. The perps even put the BMW's in clusters of two's and threes, something I hadn't seen before. And then come similarly shaped models from other vehicle manufacturers, and often these are scaled down versions, such as the Mazda three door model, the name escaping me for the time being, even if I pass a Mazda dealership often.
And my doctor is moving on he stated; no difference there for me, I was talking to a wall anyhow. He is Asian, and I considered this to be Asian male "face time", my once per month session at the behest of my mind-keepers. Interestingly, the perps are moving me up the brown (skin) scale, as the next doctor will be and East Indian; this is a repeat of their doctor visit stunts of 1997 to 1999 games when I had an obdurate East Indian woman doctor who kept blowing me off about my complaints. I always wondered why she was often looking at the ceiling each time she spoke with me, and it confirms what I have noticed about other shills; they must be getting a text script feed on the retina of their upper eye. Now, it is going to be a deeper shade of brown skin color, and a male doctor. That is likely to serve for another 18 months if the current doctor's duration is a guide. Then who knows, a deep dark skinned African doctor after that, and by then, the perps' brown fixation should be over. Lucky me, only another three years of unmitigated hell from the sickos that created these problems in the first place, and then have trashed the hell out of my existence while they attempt to figure out the pychic damage. Not my problem, and why am I being involved in it?
That stock rejoinder of the above paragraph gets routinely trotted out by way of planted thoughts, and today, I got special noisestalking while keying it in, so there must be something more that the perps want other than controlling me as to what they are scripting me to type.
I told my doctor about various financial needs, most related to the harassment; the frypan with the self-popping spot welds, the self-shredding sheets and the accelerated wear down of my last pair of runners, all perp invoked by remote means. He didn't even blink as to these incredible oddities, indicating to me this was all scripted, as the perps would choke me down if I got into unscripted revelations. The doctor was also doing his best to put his head in front of his LCD display on his PC, moving it back and forth with partial overlaps of the blue colored screen. My perp abetting mother does similar actions; "explaining a problem" with her PC, and flicking her hands in front of the CRT display in an over-obvious attempt to do the perp's bidding. The obvious incidence of hand waving and flicking behavior began when this harassment began.
I got more "blonde stalking" today; one on lead-ahead duty was tailing me for 10 minutes, counting the alternate routes we took around the same block, "showing up" again, aka reprising herself on an unlikely route by anyone's standards who knows this town. They are now appearing as the lastmost gangstalker before my apartment block it seems. After the above mentioned blonde crossed paths with me some 100' from my apartment building, a clip clopping (footwear noise) blonde woman in light brown, red shoes and red lipstick followed me into the building and into the elevator, carrying a Starbuck's coffee (brown color reference) in a grey tray, making her as a member of the Coffe Corps. She looked way overdone for this building; in her late 50's, nice clothes, and coming into a predominantly studio suite building. Anyhow, strange behavior of others in my proximity is nothing new.
1955h
The kerchunk noises are coming on; this particular back beat sound is like no other, and has followed me from Seattle in 2002, to every residence (now seven) since to the present. It is truly amazing that my "neighbors" can make the same sounds with the same coordination with other events, e.g. web page changes, an uncontrolled thought, a pain twinge, reading specific "hot" words, and so it goes. I might as well as be talking to the wall, just like the above mentioned doctor, as none of this makes sense in any scenario except persecutorial harassment in the service of nonconsensual human experimentation and no one wants to hear about it.
The left jaw pain has been coming and going all day, and it often gets invoked in similar circumstances as per above mentioned kerchunk sounds.
2030h
And here is James Henry Graf, the eloquent activist that I know of describing the same pit of hell that I am in Your Brain Is the Battleground;
Imagine being exposed all day every day to the twenty most vicious, sleaziest, most obnoxious persons you have ever met. Imagine not being able to get away from them, having them monitor your thoughts, impulses, physiological processes, dreams, fantasies, memories, and all the events of your daily life. Imagine that they confront, interrogate, threaten, degrade, and torment you day and night. Imagine their contemptuous jibes as they obstruct your every earnest effort. Imagine the humiliation, the frustration, the fury. The closest parallel is that of demonic possession. These are not demons, however. They are real human criminals whom no-one will arrest or prosecute.Literally, invaded up the asshole, and to all thoughts, no matter how fleeting. Ever wonder why so many whistleblowers get nixed before they divulge the goods, Karen Silkwood for example? It is because one's thoughts are surrepticiously read, all the time, though I have no idea as to how widespread this is. Who gets selected for being surveilled and monitored down to every last thought, never mind being guided, directed or controlled?
More of James Henry Graf's pithy and eloquent treatise is at this link as well, Virtual America. Make that Virtual Canada as too, as I have been equally harassed in both countires. Here is a particularly resonant quote from the linked page; based on my experience, he does not exaggerate in the least;
The mock democracy that has cheated, persecuted, humiliated, terrorized, and tortured me is really a "national security" dictatorship, a land surreptitiously controlled by an insolent overclass contemptuous of Law and Constitution, using astounding technology to advance an essentially fascist agenda. It is a vicious, capricious empire, the domain of drooling Caligulas and snarling Torquemadas whose unchecked malevolence enlists the aid of legions of cowards, crooks, liars, and fools. It is a culture of contempt, where personal attack supplants rational debate, where artificial distinctions abound while valid ones are ignored. All is arbitrary here. Everything is relative. Law, ethics, and very reality are defined to suit the nefarious purposes of those in power.I do not know if he has been subject to harassment and abuse from extra-conventional technologies as I experience all time, but he has been hit with physical ailments that can be delivered by action-at-a-distance methods or by X-rays as his T-cell count was abnormally low. I could quote nearly all of his treatise, but if one wants a resounding fact based call to arms over the plight of harassed, tortured, monitored and surveilled citizens, check out Virtual America. He attempted to get refugee status in three European countries and they all repatriated him. I don't think any TI has worked as hard to get official help and been spurned at every turn.
2320h
Time to call this done; my YouTubing is getting hacked more often now. I get audio and vison desybchronization, darkened down stage shots and smeared over personages. All part of the functional decomposition of my bioenergetic being, down to everything I see, hear, think or conclude.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Freakshow Central
1525h
I went to a casual labor agency today; and lo, if it wasn't the biggest freakshow as to mental cretins and other actors of this stage managed life. This charade started when I was in the waiting room, and the person I was to see was running late. Many of the Unfavored demographic group members were there; mental cases, irregular behaviored, monster gutted dudes, unkempt and wildly bearded, the brown skins, the brown shirts and a few others. It was mostly males, another of the Unfavored group that the perps wish me to visit often. The final kicker was when I headed back to my place, and lo, there was a male Asian wheelchair act, but instead of going forward (oncoming) he went backwards for no reason, in lead-ahead gangstalk mode. And I do loathe the sight of wheelchairs and like assistive medical devices, motorized wheel chairs, walkers and crutches. This wheelchair act made for three Unfavored demographic groups rolled up as one; brown skinned, wheelchair and male. I have never seen so many wheelchairs going on in this city until the harassment started in 2002. Check out the Favored and Unfavored blog posting to the right to get the background on this significant topic that is part of the harassment objectives.
Anyhow, the casual labor pool may become the focus for 2008; being exposed to many differing jobs to suit the harassment objectives. They cannot get enough loud colors around me for long enough it seems, if yesterday's blatantly loitering operatives hanging around me at the gym yesterday is any example. Last week I saw the brightest day-glo jacket ever; entirely a pinkish dayglo color in two fabrics with some minor tone differences between them. And no less, it was on a Down's syndrome looking gangstalker, though that could of been a morphover of a real operative.
The outside street ripping has been in progress all day today, and serves as a reason to have many dump trucks circulating in this neighborhood, noise and all. There must be something to having me see exposed soil, as this is a dominant theme in the harassment games. I worked on enough gravel roads in my forestry days, and even laid out roads, so I cannot understand what the perp's preoccupation is as to exposing me to their diggings.
2050h
I am doing some reading on extraterrestrials and the author's experiences, Richard Boylan, tonight. I have got a few overhead poundings, and one very loud one, possibly with a zapping, immediately following eating a brown colored gluten free breakfast bar that should not be eaten for the high carbohydrate content. It was another freebie food item from my mother over the holidays. The plasma and maser vision impairments have been constant, but at a lower background level, nothing too disruptive tonight. The wind has been howling, and the perps had me put my deep olive green sweater on, the fourth evening in succession. Which means that they are testing more complex color combinations, as it would be the first time in over three years that I have worn a sweater over a shirt.
I am getting more of the micro-zappings on my left side tonight, similar to last night. They are like sharp touches, but not a jab, and have been "normally" arranged to come from the armrest of my chair. Forcing me to take my arm off this comfy position isn't enough of an annoyance it seems, as these micro-zappings now occur as if from no apparent source, out of nowhere. I am also getting them in my side as well, not just in my left arm. As a complement to that, I also get small tuggings of my shirt, mainly on my back; enough to notice, but not a micro-zapping. It is just one more example of being fucked with, and that the status quo of depravity isn't sufficient in the perps' eyes.
2150h
The infernal knee torquing torture has been started up again; this is the rotation of the lower part of my knee to then cause pain in my knee. The pain can be relieved by lifting my foot up, but it always means shifting about to continue avoiding the discomfort.
01-10-2008
1005h
Time to post this; I was screwed with in "forgetting" last night.
I went to a casual labor agency today; and lo, if it wasn't the biggest freakshow as to mental cretins and other actors of this stage managed life. This charade started when I was in the waiting room, and the person I was to see was running late. Many of the Unfavored demographic group members were there; mental cases, irregular behaviored, monster gutted dudes, unkempt and wildly bearded, the brown skins, the brown shirts and a few others. It was mostly males, another of the Unfavored group that the perps wish me to visit often. The final kicker was when I headed back to my place, and lo, there was a male Asian wheelchair act, but instead of going forward (oncoming) he went backwards for no reason, in lead-ahead gangstalk mode. And I do loathe the sight of wheelchairs and like assistive medical devices, motorized wheel chairs, walkers and crutches. This wheelchair act made for three Unfavored demographic groups rolled up as one; brown skinned, wheelchair and male. I have never seen so many wheelchairs going on in this city until the harassment started in 2002. Check out the Favored and Unfavored blog posting to the right to get the background on this significant topic that is part of the harassment objectives.
Anyhow, the casual labor pool may become the focus for 2008; being exposed to many differing jobs to suit the harassment objectives. They cannot get enough loud colors around me for long enough it seems, if yesterday's blatantly loitering operatives hanging around me at the gym yesterday is any example. Last week I saw the brightest day-glo jacket ever; entirely a pinkish dayglo color in two fabrics with some minor tone differences between them. And no less, it was on a Down's syndrome looking gangstalker, though that could of been a morphover of a real operative.
The outside street ripping has been in progress all day today, and serves as a reason to have many dump trucks circulating in this neighborhood, noise and all. There must be something to having me see exposed soil, as this is a dominant theme in the harassment games. I worked on enough gravel roads in my forestry days, and even laid out roads, so I cannot understand what the perp's preoccupation is as to exposing me to their diggings.
2050h
I am doing some reading on extraterrestrials and the author's experiences, Richard Boylan, tonight. I have got a few overhead poundings, and one very loud one, possibly with a zapping, immediately following eating a brown colored gluten free breakfast bar that should not be eaten for the high carbohydrate content. It was another freebie food item from my mother over the holidays. The plasma and maser vision impairments have been constant, but at a lower background level, nothing too disruptive tonight. The wind has been howling, and the perps had me put my deep olive green sweater on, the fourth evening in succession. Which means that they are testing more complex color combinations, as it would be the first time in over three years that I have worn a sweater over a shirt.
I am getting more of the micro-zappings on my left side tonight, similar to last night. They are like sharp touches, but not a jab, and have been "normally" arranged to come from the armrest of my chair. Forcing me to take my arm off this comfy position isn't enough of an annoyance it seems, as these micro-zappings now occur as if from no apparent source, out of nowhere. I am also getting them in my side as well, not just in my left arm. As a complement to that, I also get small tuggings of my shirt, mainly on my back; enough to notice, but not a micro-zapping. It is just one more example of being fucked with, and that the status quo of depravity isn't sufficient in the perps' eyes.
2150h
The infernal knee torquing torture has been started up again; this is the rotation of the lower part of my knee to then cause pain in my knee. The pain can be relieved by lifting my foot up, but it always means shifting about to continue avoiding the discomfort.
01-10-2008
1005h
Time to post this; I was screwed with in "forgetting" last night.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Mouth Contents are Under Investigation
1010h
A rare post-breakfast recounting of harassment games while eating breakfast and my shower, shave and dental hygeine routine. I eat one slice of a gluten-free flax and sunflowerseed bread with my peanut butter and jam every morning. Today, after the dishes were done, while 12' away in the bathroom, the perps planted some flaxseed on my towel just ahead of where I was to grasp it. Then another flaxseed "showed up" in the sink a few minutes later. These are a deep brown color, and that may have been the reason for these materializing from nowhere, as they hadn't been inadvertently carried there by any means I was aware of.
Another game that became more systematic this morning was the perps packing food inside of my mouth on the outside of my gums. This stunt is routine for every meal, and it appears to be a sample of food to cause delayed onset of food digestion. My awareness of the outer gum packed food is controlled by the perps; it could be as 30 seconds, or hours later when I am let in on the presence of this food. At breakfast, the outer gum food packing was made known to me within short order, and each time I moved some food with my tongue from the outside of my gums to the inside of my mouth, an outside noise went off as the food crossed over and under my teeth. That is correct; the perps are actively controlling the distribution of food in my mouth, and are now setting up more structured and repetitive coincident noisestalking events as the food crosses my teeth. The type of noises varied from heavy duty vehicles passing by, backup beepers, squealing seagulls, dog barks etc. but each time it was simultaneous with food movement in my mouth unobservable to anyone watching me.
And it was clear that the food was also made to linger longer on the roof of my mouth, and that the imbibing of coffee was simplified so that there was no permitted tongue movement of the food as it was washed over with coffee. Later, all the outside noise went into an all-quiet state while eating chocolate, and I can only assume this was a huge brown color test event, as one's mouth and throat are very close to the brain structures the perps have such an abiding interest in, especially as it relates to that obsession of theirs, the color brown.
Other breakfast and dental hygeine routines were also disrupted this morning, although no big penalty in this, save a momentary piss-off.
Another new introduced noise this morning was an ongoing whine, like a siren but with no variation of pitch or sound cycling. As it "so happens", the major roadworks job at View and Vancouver Streets for locals has now moved upstreet and they are cutting the asphalt surface down the center, coming toward where I live. This faint ongoing siren-like whine went on for 40 minutes and "somehow" got through my hearing protective ear muffs.
1905h
This being Thursday, this is the yoga and gym day, and is usually fraught with extra gangstalking and other stunts. But today, they moved the yoga class some two blocks N. to a new venue as well as making it earlier by 30 minutes. It would seem that the rescheduled time is to allow about the same interval duration between the two events. Or at least, that is my take on what the perps are up to.
And true to form, when at a new location with a group, I am either the first one or the last one to arrive, and this case it was the former. The instructor came 10 minutes later, and the "yoga pal" (male) from two days ago whom I "happened" to meet on the street, a regular, came 10 minutes after her.
As usual, there was the full complement of plasma and maser beams flitting around the room and coming from all locations. In addition, there was the color and object augmentations; a 8'x4' green chalkboard was against one wall, a stack of brown 5'x4' flat cardboard boxes on another wall, and there were a few more red and yellow color reference objects in place along the walls.
We were well into yoga practice when my least favorite yogi goof came to join the session some 10 minutes later. This the yappy, fat and flake-out dude who also "happened" to hound me at the former Tuesday yoga at a different venue, and just when I thought I had seen the last of this idiot/disrupting operative on Thursdays, he "happens" to show up on the first day at the new venue. He took at least 10 minutes of farting around to get onto his mat; changing in the adjoining bathroom, plastic bag scrunching, coughing in the adjoining bathroom, coughing all the more in the yoga classroom, groaning and the rest of his noise repetoire was all part of the "settle in" time before he got going, positioning himself on my left side. Many of these noises were planted while I was doing stretches of my back or legs, effectively noisestalking while my spine was flexed or else I was in poses.
It was one female instructor with three male students by now, and then a new student shows up, someone I hadn't seen in this class before. He took five minutes to go through his noisemaking to "settle in", this time on my right side with an avocado colored mat, one he must of brought himself. He too launched into some pointless yapping with the instructor, so I had one of these fuckers yapping from either side of me. And it should be noted that the instructor is always abundantly clear, this coming from one who has plenty of adversity when taking verbal instructions.
Now, one female instructor and four male students, and this might be the way it will go from now on, using the start time change to purge the female class members. It should be interesting, as this room doesn't offer the windows to the street which was always a big (perp) feature of the last location. There, various colored vehicles could be planted in my line of sight, and they were invariably the color of objects in the room. And also, there were no end of light flashes on the walls in the last yoga classroom, being made to appear that they were coming from the myriad vehicles passing by outside.
It is near impossible to miss the instructor's cleavage when she is in a forward facing pose, and each time I happened to look, one of my yoga stalkers managed to cough at that exact moment of visual cognition. There were at least three such "coincidences" like this, which told me the new dude in the class was totally primed for gangstalking.
With one male class member on either side of me, and their mats were offset 2' behind mine, it meant that I got the smelly feet routine, likely introduced by way of perp fuckery, one pair from either side. Their feet were aligned at about where my head was when lying down, surely a tip-off of the perp's foot fetish fixations.
Given that the perps manage the cornflake distribution in my cereal bowl every morning, and the planting of crumbs everywhere they chose, no matter how absurd, it doesn't take much to figure out that this change of the Thursday yoga venue was a huge deal for them. And as part of it, before other class members arrived, I got "blonded", a term I use to describe the perp practice of planting an attractive blonde female within my proximity at new locations or venues, usually in an introductory capacity. A blonde staff member of the building came with the yoga coordinator for whatever purpose, to stand in the doorway and be seen is all that it appeared to be. I don't claim to know what the perp's rationale for strategically planting blondes wherever I go, or beside the unfavored demographic group members, and I characterize this as supplying "blonde aura".
It is no secret in these blogs that the perps attach great importance to planting beings, people, colors, objects or materials around me that I either like, or loathe, and often in the same view adjacent to each other. So if the long haired middle aged male vagrant (four unfavored demographic groups there) pushing his shopping cart toward me can be spatially aligned in my sight with an attractive blonde woman behind him, even if 10' or more, but arranged to be "stacked", then the perps will do this.
Much of the perp's activity is to mix these unfavored demographic members with favored demographic features; today, the largest blonde woman came back into gym class, the "large" or obese as it is, being an unfavored demographic, and the blonde hair being a favored demographic feature. And so it goes, in both yoga and gym classes.
I did a 20 minute walk to yoga this morning, and a 30 minute to gym class in the afternoon. I also got many more freakshows today, mostly on the street, but a few at the gym as well. I had a crimson red poncho-ed woman follow me at least 300' over one block, and when she caught up to me at the pedestrian traffic control, and I was muttering under my breath as to this blatant following job, she rolls her eyes at me, and I know she did not hear me say anything, and she did not know (theoretically) that it was in relation to this unusual coincidence in seeing her again. It is an example of managed "coincidental" eye contact, even from those who I don't expect it from; the (faux) vagrants to the checkout cashiers who make an effort to not look at me when we pass by each other on the street, and who later give me a flirtatious glance. Managed eye contact, and likely down to the last thousandth of a second. And believe me, I do nothing to attract attention if I have any say in the matter.
Another stunt as part of today's harassment escalation took place at the gym; someone wanted to use the bicycle that I was on, when there was another two availible, claiming that he signed on for the one I was using. A total jerkaround show, instignating confrontation when the signing board is next to the stationary bicycles, and picking one that was in use. Very few people seem to sign up when there are others availible. He got into a big harangue over this, and it would seem that this was a stunt to incur my vocalization, conversing with this asshole, as if parading gangstalkers around me for the entire free gym period isn't enough fucking with my life.
Other events of today's freakshow appeared to be attaining more complexity, usually in clothing and skin colors, and hence even more freakish at times. I walked past a black pickup that was parked in a stall of parallel street parking, and the box was loaded up with broken cedar laths, a table with a finished surface, and a sheet of particle board. As mentioned in past blogs, the perps have a total obsession with me being exposed to wood products, and lo, if the perps didn't add some extra complexity by having two native Indians outside the vehicle, who then got in it as I was passing by. It was S. bound facing when parked, and lo, within a block, it was N. bound passing me by on the street. In perp fixation terms, where they go beserk over the color brown, and usually are "wood stalking" me early in my outings, this was a very complex arrangement, as this would of included brown colored skin, another key variant of interest they have with the color brown.
And to replicate this in part, when I got back to my apartment after yoga, there was a setup of three East Indians appearing to be moving out of the building; their furniture tumbled out of the elevator that was now working after a two week shutdown. There was a wood table and base, a plastic drawer set like the one I have, and anothe item I cannot recall. Additionally, there was an East Indian patrolling around the UHaul van parked outside on the street. Not a big deal, and it was even close to the month end to have a decent cover story to it.
In another more complex arrangement a red and white Vespa was parked inside a closed pizza store with red and white checkerboard tiles and same color themed decor. It was visible through the storefront window, and it would seem that the normally outside vehicle was being "mixed in" with interior furnishings.
I also got my military dressed gangstalker after yoga today, just "happening" to be walking in a residential area, the same street as all the rest of them, post-yoga. There is about a 0.6 probability of seeing a military dressed gangstalker on this same street at this juncture on Thursdays. Explain that one for all you clinical cling-ons, and there isn't a base around for 5 miles.
There were the usual 600 to 1,000 vehicles on my city transiting today, an excessive amount by any standard for anyone who knows this city. This is about the usual number of color and size coordinated vehicles when I walk this route, and it would seem that most of the parked vehicles are similarly arranged down all the side streets. After the initial flush of white, silver-grey, black and mid-grey vehicles, there were strings of three red vehicles more than once, or sometimes arranged at all possible orientations at the traffic controlled intersections. Once they got over that, there was a decided push on the color yellow. The school buses were on duty; one outside the gym class building disgorged at least 40 dudes with gear bags and baseball bats (strangely), and owing their impeccable timing, coming from the opposite direction, I was obliged to join their line as the entryway to the recreation center had been constricted down to one door, as a vacuum truck had been set up in front of the other entrance door. Perfect stalking; forcing me to join a line of egressing yellow bus passengers and keeping me from paralleling or taking my own route into the building. At least one of the throng made sure to cross in front of me after I had entered the building, as all the bat packing dudes took a route to the left, and I to the right. That wasn't good enough, I had to be gangstalked by at least one of them that had no apparent reason to get in front of me.
The new yoga venue notices were up and placed outside as well as inside the building, and lo, if they weren't yellow too. More of the gangstalkers are packing paper around with them; colored envelopes as if they were going to post them, clipboards and now even newspapers. This seems to be the newest reference material, now joining wood in that capacity. There is the perp's practice of color referencing with paper, but also there is appears to be additional importance attached to the material itself.
The yoga instructor was wearing a yellow top over a burgundy red one today, a combination that I have seen her wear before, and I can only assume that seeing her shapely form in association of these two perp problem colors can only enhance their agenda, akin to the "blonde auric goodness" mentioned above.
In another well planned event, the perps trained a surveyor's laser level on my eyes at one of their construction sites, mentioned below. I was making a rare N. to S. crossing of this street to return to my apartment after gym, which wouldn't of happened if the sidewalk hadn't been ripped up for a short block length, and I saw this intense red pulsing light from 120' away. And lo, if it wasn't an "unattended" surveyor's laser level trained on me, covering me for the 30' of the crosswalk. It is fucking outrageous that I cannot be allowed to cross a street without being fucked by abusive assholes who have created the entire problem by maintaining their nonconsensual human experimentation without seeking cooperation.
The incidence of roadworks on my walking beat today was increased by at least one; there were three jobs that are currently in construction on my way to OB Rec. Center, and all are involved in extensive digging and placement of new concrete and asphalt curbs, sidewalks and road surfaces. Just when I thought that was plenty, they have added a new job closer to the recreation center, and are breaking up the concrete and soil road median, and have cut off the tree branches to leave only 4' tall stumps that will also be taken out. It seems to be a perp objective, to desecrate trees in my proximity, as well as pursue whatever other objectives that relate to soil, concrete and asphalt. At least one job appears to be totally needless, making an infrequently used pedestrian crossing with a larger concrete sidewalk area at an uncontrolled intersection.
An additional member of this construction is the demolition of a never used house that is on the hospital corner. That makes for a total of five road and public works projects on my walking beat. Again, I have no idea as to what this is intended to accomplish for the perps, and it even seems that digging a hole to plant a tree at my parent's place, per past blog postings, is part of this set of perp harassment objectives.
As part of the above mentioned road projects there were two major constrictions of vehicular traffic. In one case, a three-lane major one way thoroughfare was reduced to one through lane, and in another instance, a four lane bidirectional road was reduced to one lane each way, both on one side of the normal four lane configuration. In the latter case, the traffic was routed to the S. side, the one I was walking beside, and lo, if the perps didn't plant a silver-grey Audi TT at that constriction point, coming through beside me. I think this is one of the most elegant and enticing sports car designs going, and it is likely it was placed to be close by as I was adjacent to the through lane. As mentioned above, the perps have a particularly strong need to place desired or liked designs, colors, hair colors and favored demographic members in my proximity, and this would likely be another instance. Another component of this re-routing of two way traffic on the former single direction side appears to be the perp's interests in making some kind of determination, measurement or correlation between me and the direction dependent energetic properties of the passing vehicles and roadway. It was interesting that a two way road and a one way road were both "happening" today, raising possible comparison reasons, at each end of my transiting, taking the same route there and back.
The current perp obsession in bringing over Japanese left-hand drive vehicles continues, and it may well factor into this anisotrophy (different physical properties in differing directions) study they are conducting. It does not surprise me that there has been some major road artery closures in the western US and Canada this year.
Onto a strange topic; last night's dreams were about some kind of alien tribe, or groupthat weren't terribly different from humans, though there was some way I could tell. It is all very odd, and like most dreams, I am sure it was planted, and I am permitted to recall only the general concept. And no, I hadn't been reading about aliens or abductions the night before, and haven't read much of this topic of late, being seduced by 1960's video footage of the Rolling Stones, Elvis Presley and other performers.
2325h
Time to call this busy day done and hope that the perps can chill out and leave me alone, though the prognosis isn't good, as I am due to attend to the spreadsheet woes again.
A rare post-breakfast recounting of harassment games while eating breakfast and my shower, shave and dental hygeine routine. I eat one slice of a gluten-free flax and sunflowerseed bread with my peanut butter and jam every morning. Today, after the dishes were done, while 12' away in the bathroom, the perps planted some flaxseed on my towel just ahead of where I was to grasp it. Then another flaxseed "showed up" in the sink a few minutes later. These are a deep brown color, and that may have been the reason for these materializing from nowhere, as they hadn't been inadvertently carried there by any means I was aware of.
Another game that became more systematic this morning was the perps packing food inside of my mouth on the outside of my gums. This stunt is routine for every meal, and it appears to be a sample of food to cause delayed onset of food digestion. My awareness of the outer gum packed food is controlled by the perps; it could be as 30 seconds, or hours later when I am let in on the presence of this food. At breakfast, the outer gum food packing was made known to me within short order, and each time I moved some food with my tongue from the outside of my gums to the inside of my mouth, an outside noise went off as the food crossed over and under my teeth. That is correct; the perps are actively controlling the distribution of food in my mouth, and are now setting up more structured and repetitive coincident noisestalking events as the food crosses my teeth. The type of noises varied from heavy duty vehicles passing by, backup beepers, squealing seagulls, dog barks etc. but each time it was simultaneous with food movement in my mouth unobservable to anyone watching me.
And it was clear that the food was also made to linger longer on the roof of my mouth, and that the imbibing of coffee was simplified so that there was no permitted tongue movement of the food as it was washed over with coffee. Later, all the outside noise went into an all-quiet state while eating chocolate, and I can only assume this was a huge brown color test event, as one's mouth and throat are very close to the brain structures the perps have such an abiding interest in, especially as it relates to that obsession of theirs, the color brown.
Other breakfast and dental hygeine routines were also disrupted this morning, although no big penalty in this, save a momentary piss-off.
Another new introduced noise this morning was an ongoing whine, like a siren but with no variation of pitch or sound cycling. As it "so happens", the major roadworks job at View and Vancouver Streets for locals has now moved upstreet and they are cutting the asphalt surface down the center, coming toward where I live. This faint ongoing siren-like whine went on for 40 minutes and "somehow" got through my hearing protective ear muffs.
1905h
This being Thursday, this is the yoga and gym day, and is usually fraught with extra gangstalking and other stunts. But today, they moved the yoga class some two blocks N. to a new venue as well as making it earlier by 30 minutes. It would seem that the rescheduled time is to allow about the same interval duration between the two events. Or at least, that is my take on what the perps are up to.
And true to form, when at a new location with a group, I am either the first one or the last one to arrive, and this case it was the former. The instructor came 10 minutes later, and the "yoga pal" (male) from two days ago whom I "happened" to meet on the street, a regular, came 10 minutes after her.
As usual, there was the full complement of plasma and maser beams flitting around the room and coming from all locations. In addition, there was the color and object augmentations; a 8'x4' green chalkboard was against one wall, a stack of brown 5'x4' flat cardboard boxes on another wall, and there were a few more red and yellow color reference objects in place along the walls.
We were well into yoga practice when my least favorite yogi goof came to join the session some 10 minutes later. This the yappy, fat and flake-out dude who also "happened" to hound me at the former Tuesday yoga at a different venue, and just when I thought I had seen the last of this idiot/disrupting operative on Thursdays, he "happens" to show up on the first day at the new venue. He took at least 10 minutes of farting around to get onto his mat; changing in the adjoining bathroom, plastic bag scrunching, coughing in the adjoining bathroom, coughing all the more in the yoga classroom, groaning and the rest of his noise repetoire was all part of the "settle in" time before he got going, positioning himself on my left side. Many of these noises were planted while I was doing stretches of my back or legs, effectively noisestalking while my spine was flexed or else I was in poses.
It was one female instructor with three male students by now, and then a new student shows up, someone I hadn't seen in this class before. He took five minutes to go through his noisemaking to "settle in", this time on my right side with an avocado colored mat, one he must of brought himself. He too launched into some pointless yapping with the instructor, so I had one of these fuckers yapping from either side of me. And it should be noted that the instructor is always abundantly clear, this coming from one who has plenty of adversity when taking verbal instructions.
Now, one female instructor and four male students, and this might be the way it will go from now on, using the start time change to purge the female class members. It should be interesting, as this room doesn't offer the windows to the street which was always a big (perp) feature of the last location. There, various colored vehicles could be planted in my line of sight, and they were invariably the color of objects in the room. And also, there were no end of light flashes on the walls in the last yoga classroom, being made to appear that they were coming from the myriad vehicles passing by outside.
It is near impossible to miss the instructor's cleavage when she is in a forward facing pose, and each time I happened to look, one of my yoga stalkers managed to cough at that exact moment of visual cognition. There were at least three such "coincidences" like this, which told me the new dude in the class was totally primed for gangstalking.
With one male class member on either side of me, and their mats were offset 2' behind mine, it meant that I got the smelly feet routine, likely introduced by way of perp fuckery, one pair from either side. Their feet were aligned at about where my head was when lying down, surely a tip-off of the perp's foot fetish fixations.
Given that the perps manage the cornflake distribution in my cereal bowl every morning, and the planting of crumbs everywhere they chose, no matter how absurd, it doesn't take much to figure out that this change of the Thursday yoga venue was a huge deal for them. And as part of it, before other class members arrived, I got "blonded", a term I use to describe the perp practice of planting an attractive blonde female within my proximity at new locations or venues, usually in an introductory capacity. A blonde staff member of the building came with the yoga coordinator for whatever purpose, to stand in the doorway and be seen is all that it appeared to be. I don't claim to know what the perp's rationale for strategically planting blondes wherever I go, or beside the unfavored demographic group members, and I characterize this as supplying "blonde aura".
It is no secret in these blogs that the perps attach great importance to planting beings, people, colors, objects or materials around me that I either like, or loathe, and often in the same view adjacent to each other. So if the long haired middle aged male vagrant (four unfavored demographic groups there) pushing his shopping cart toward me can be spatially aligned in my sight with an attractive blonde woman behind him, even if 10' or more, but arranged to be "stacked", then the perps will do this.
Much of the perp's activity is to mix these unfavored demographic members with favored demographic features; today, the largest blonde woman came back into gym class, the "large" or obese as it is, being an unfavored demographic, and the blonde hair being a favored demographic feature. And so it goes, in both yoga and gym classes.
I did a 20 minute walk to yoga this morning, and a 30 minute to gym class in the afternoon. I also got many more freakshows today, mostly on the street, but a few at the gym as well. I had a crimson red poncho-ed woman follow me at least 300' over one block, and when she caught up to me at the pedestrian traffic control, and I was muttering under my breath as to this blatant following job, she rolls her eyes at me, and I know she did not hear me say anything, and she did not know (theoretically) that it was in relation to this unusual coincidence in seeing her again. It is an example of managed "coincidental" eye contact, even from those who I don't expect it from; the (faux) vagrants to the checkout cashiers who make an effort to not look at me when we pass by each other on the street, and who later give me a flirtatious glance. Managed eye contact, and likely down to the last thousandth of a second. And believe me, I do nothing to attract attention if I have any say in the matter.
Another stunt as part of today's harassment escalation took place at the gym; someone wanted to use the bicycle that I was on, when there was another two availible, claiming that he signed on for the one I was using. A total jerkaround show, instignating confrontation when the signing board is next to the stationary bicycles, and picking one that was in use. Very few people seem to sign up when there are others availible. He got into a big harangue over this, and it would seem that this was a stunt to incur my vocalization, conversing with this asshole, as if parading gangstalkers around me for the entire free gym period isn't enough fucking with my life.
Other events of today's freakshow appeared to be attaining more complexity, usually in clothing and skin colors, and hence even more freakish at times. I walked past a black pickup that was parked in a stall of parallel street parking, and the box was loaded up with broken cedar laths, a table with a finished surface, and a sheet of particle board. As mentioned in past blogs, the perps have a total obsession with me being exposed to wood products, and lo, if the perps didn't add some extra complexity by having two native Indians outside the vehicle, who then got in it as I was passing by. It was S. bound facing when parked, and lo, within a block, it was N. bound passing me by on the street. In perp fixation terms, where they go beserk over the color brown, and usually are "wood stalking" me early in my outings, this was a very complex arrangement, as this would of included brown colored skin, another key variant of interest they have with the color brown.
And to replicate this in part, when I got back to my apartment after yoga, there was a setup of three East Indians appearing to be moving out of the building; their furniture tumbled out of the elevator that was now working after a two week shutdown. There was a wood table and base, a plastic drawer set like the one I have, and anothe item I cannot recall. Additionally, there was an East Indian patrolling around the UHaul van parked outside on the street. Not a big deal, and it was even close to the month end to have a decent cover story to it.
In another more complex arrangement a red and white Vespa was parked inside a closed pizza store with red and white checkerboard tiles and same color themed decor. It was visible through the storefront window, and it would seem that the normally outside vehicle was being "mixed in" with interior furnishings.
I also got my military dressed gangstalker after yoga today, just "happening" to be walking in a residential area, the same street as all the rest of them, post-yoga. There is about a 0.6 probability of seeing a military dressed gangstalker on this same street at this juncture on Thursdays. Explain that one for all you clinical cling-ons, and there isn't a base around for 5 miles.
There were the usual 600 to 1,000 vehicles on my city transiting today, an excessive amount by any standard for anyone who knows this city. This is about the usual number of color and size coordinated vehicles when I walk this route, and it would seem that most of the parked vehicles are similarly arranged down all the side streets. After the initial flush of white, silver-grey, black and mid-grey vehicles, there were strings of three red vehicles more than once, or sometimes arranged at all possible orientations at the traffic controlled intersections. Once they got over that, there was a decided push on the color yellow. The school buses were on duty; one outside the gym class building disgorged at least 40 dudes with gear bags and baseball bats (strangely), and owing their impeccable timing, coming from the opposite direction, I was obliged to join their line as the entryway to the recreation center had been constricted down to one door, as a vacuum truck had been set up in front of the other entrance door. Perfect stalking; forcing me to join a line of egressing yellow bus passengers and keeping me from paralleling or taking my own route into the building. At least one of the throng made sure to cross in front of me after I had entered the building, as all the bat packing dudes took a route to the left, and I to the right. That wasn't good enough, I had to be gangstalked by at least one of them that had no apparent reason to get in front of me.
The new yoga venue notices were up and placed outside as well as inside the building, and lo, if they weren't yellow too. More of the gangstalkers are packing paper around with them; colored envelopes as if they were going to post them, clipboards and now even newspapers. This seems to be the newest reference material, now joining wood in that capacity. There is the perp's practice of color referencing with paper, but also there is appears to be additional importance attached to the material itself.
The yoga instructor was wearing a yellow top over a burgundy red one today, a combination that I have seen her wear before, and I can only assume that seeing her shapely form in association of these two perp problem colors can only enhance their agenda, akin to the "blonde auric goodness" mentioned above.
In another well planned event, the perps trained a surveyor's laser level on my eyes at one of their construction sites, mentioned below. I was making a rare N. to S. crossing of this street to return to my apartment after gym, which wouldn't of happened if the sidewalk hadn't been ripped up for a short block length, and I saw this intense red pulsing light from 120' away. And lo, if it wasn't an "unattended" surveyor's laser level trained on me, covering me for the 30' of the crosswalk. It is fucking outrageous that I cannot be allowed to cross a street without being fucked by abusive assholes who have created the entire problem by maintaining their nonconsensual human experimentation without seeking cooperation.
The incidence of roadworks on my walking beat today was increased by at least one; there were three jobs that are currently in construction on my way to OB Rec. Center, and all are involved in extensive digging and placement of new concrete and asphalt curbs, sidewalks and road surfaces. Just when I thought that was plenty, they have added a new job closer to the recreation center, and are breaking up the concrete and soil road median, and have cut off the tree branches to leave only 4' tall stumps that will also be taken out. It seems to be a perp objective, to desecrate trees in my proximity, as well as pursue whatever other objectives that relate to soil, concrete and asphalt. At least one job appears to be totally needless, making an infrequently used pedestrian crossing with a larger concrete sidewalk area at an uncontrolled intersection.
An additional member of this construction is the demolition of a never used house that is on the hospital corner. That makes for a total of five road and public works projects on my walking beat. Again, I have no idea as to what this is intended to accomplish for the perps, and it even seems that digging a hole to plant a tree at my parent's place, per past blog postings, is part of this set of perp harassment objectives.
As part of the above mentioned road projects there were two major constrictions of vehicular traffic. In one case, a three-lane major one way thoroughfare was reduced to one through lane, and in another instance, a four lane bidirectional road was reduced to one lane each way, both on one side of the normal four lane configuration. In the latter case, the traffic was routed to the S. side, the one I was walking beside, and lo, if the perps didn't plant a silver-grey Audi TT at that constriction point, coming through beside me. I think this is one of the most elegant and enticing sports car designs going, and it is likely it was placed to be close by as I was adjacent to the through lane. As mentioned above, the perps have a particularly strong need to place desired or liked designs, colors, hair colors and favored demographic members in my proximity, and this would likely be another instance. Another component of this re-routing of two way traffic on the former single direction side appears to be the perp's interests in making some kind of determination, measurement or correlation between me and the direction dependent energetic properties of the passing vehicles and roadway. It was interesting that a two way road and a one way road were both "happening" today, raising possible comparison reasons, at each end of my transiting, taking the same route there and back.
The current perp obsession in bringing over Japanese left-hand drive vehicles continues, and it may well factor into this anisotrophy (different physical properties in differing directions) study they are conducting. It does not surprise me that there has been some major road artery closures in the western US and Canada this year.
Onto a strange topic; last night's dreams were about some kind of alien tribe, or groupthat weren't terribly different from humans, though there was some way I could tell. It is all very odd, and like most dreams, I am sure it was planted, and I am permitted to recall only the general concept. And no, I hadn't been reading about aliens or abductions the night before, and haven't read much of this topic of late, being seduced by 1960's video footage of the Rolling Stones, Elvis Presley and other performers.
2325h
Time to call this busy day done and hope that the perps can chill out and leave me alone, though the prognosis isn't good, as I am due to attend to the spreadsheet woes again.
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