Another Order Obstruction

05-01-2020
That would be ordering an item, this one online, though in-person orders have been known to be disrupted, delayed, fucked up somehow, or just plain blocked. Nearly always, I persist and I finally obtain what I ordered, though often going through many rounds before the items are delivered as advertised or expected. So yes, returning orders, or even accepting them and modifying the item to get it to what I expected, or even accepting it at a state of unexpectedness is all part of the 18 year long imposed fuckery that suddenly came down 04-2002. Sure, I had my more-than-my-fair-share of these kinds of issues before, but when the Psychopaths came down with an sudden and insane level of intrusion and force in 04-2002, why, these kinds of "problems" became all the more frequent by an order of magnitude.

I don't believe that any ordered item is obstructed because it is something the Psychopathic Confederacy believes I should not have, it is just that they seem to delight in (read, research) parsing the minutiae of specification (or shopping in a more casual situation), ordering, waiting, determining fitness of purpose of the item (and all manner of other usability parameters) upon receipt and the rest of the actions, cognitive components etc. And "of course" (for them, that is), the financial transaction component has been a long running high gangstalk and fuckery moment no matter where, how or for what purpose.

So this time, the assholes pulled a new one. The Dell PC was duly selected and specified from a number of configurations, along with the forced dithering and protraction (e.g. more research), another of their trademark fuckery games, and finally after three weeks I got to it, and ordered it online. Everything seemed to go well, and the final price with taxes etc. was presented, I paid with my charge card and all seemed done. About five days later, I see the same one in my Dell online shopping cart, though with the various differing web implementations it was difficult to know if it was updated and synchronized with other open browser tabs. I checked my charge card account, and no record of it's purchase. I phoned Dell today, and no record of it, like "what is the Order Number?", to which I replied, I didn't get one, as there was no email confirmation". Someone at the other end gets more particulars from me, but still no record of it. I get another phone number to call, but it would seem that the order got nixed by some mysterious means without any notification. Straight out the Psychopathic Play Book IMHO, though I could be wrong on this one until I make that next call, though I am not optimistic given the long running game of utterly senseless fuckery over this particular activity. So the question remains, why is ordering anything of such intense and focused abuse and obstruction for so long, and why all these variants of messing up each stage of the process? I don't know or care, just leave me the fuck alone for all time, the little I have left. (Spoken as a new pensioner as of last year).

A near-matched pair of intense leg cramps in the night last night, the first in months. They nailed me at about 0100h, and for two more later rounds. No prior warning either, such as evening time cramps while at this desk as I type. This being in my thighs, one a little more forward than the other, all to cause me to have a peculiar and uneven gait to walk it off. All the while I was screaming in pain, or else screaming at the assholes that put it on. I just cannot imagine how anyone could be so fucking sick to torture someone for 18 years and not show their face. If I had been incarcerated in Guantanamo Bay, I would of been out in seven year, seen the sons of bitches and been set up in South Pacific island. Those guys had it good as far as torture victims go. Plus, some of them got a big pot of money as compensation. Nothing but penury so far, though I don't get it as bad as some.

A week of vineyard work, this one at my 2012-15 employer to help out for three weeks while the main employer doesn't need me. This same employer alternation "happened" in 2018 at this same juncture, though then I got mugged as the foreman gave me two days notice and said he didn't need me for three weeks. Thanks, and if I can get another gig elsewhere, I will. As it "happened" it was an past/present employer alternation exercise. This year, the apparent reason for alternating was that the vile and threatening dog at the second vineyard, along with the vineyard's owner's lassitude (if not employer malfeasance) meant that I wasn't going back there ever again. (My boss said give him one more chance, and I said it was his last chance, this being the fourth "fuck-you" (wilful release of a highly threatening dog) event. Aka, the Welcome Back to K... Vineyard, 2020 event).

While I don't get the incessant road traffic noise at this vineyard, why, they thought of one thing, the noise I most loathe, the sound of HD motorcycle noise. You know, there just "happens" to be about 6-8 occurrences per day, not so sustained or ear-ripping loud, but present al the same. I reckon if I went to Antarctica, the assholes would find a way to plant this infernal noise in my proximity.


I would surmise that while the gangstalking has been more distant because of the "social distancing" COVID-19 measures, the applied harassment has been increased. You know, dropping things from my fingers (a sudden and unbidden release) is now more often than the baseline "usual" level of this outrageous fuckery that came on 04-2002 and never let up. Keystroke fuckery has also increased, and you can be sure that all this is composed with at least twice the swearing at the assholes than pre-Covid-19. The forced "forgets" have gone up considerably, even for vineyard tasks that I have known for 8 years. Thanks assholes. Yes, I know, competance is not allowed during this relentless 18 year long Abuse-athon, but FFS, why has it increased? Creating a yet more annoyed victim?

Speaking of Covid-19, the formerly esteemed epdimologits, Prof. Neil Ferguson of Imperial College, THE man who is the main spark-plug of the current worldwide economic ruination because of Covid-19 lock-downs etc, has thoroughly disgraced himself in a most carnal manner. He broke quarantine in the UK so he could get it on with a climate change hussy, an "open marriage" minded one. (The comments are scathing). One cannot make this shit up; two fraudsters, each of their own separate causes, each with worldwide ramifications, arrange a tryst in the middle of one of their ruinous escapades/cascades. And in doing so, violate the law that was enacted because of his doomer death projections that Fauci and Birks took seriously.

Which they needn't of, because Prof. Neil Ferguson got it wildly wrong on foot and mouth disease, HIV and AIDS, Swine Flu, Bird Flu and SARS before that. But, this guy has connections to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, to the tune of $184million worth of donations. Well done old chap, I hope your wreckage recovery career serves you better than computer modelling epidemology, and that you can keep your ephemeral bone regularly exercised. Though in fact, this whole thing smells bad big time; a wildly inaccurate epidemilogist keeps company with Bill and Melinda long enough for Fauci and Birks to pile in, "advise" the US President, and then economic hell results. No one was looking, and didn't want to look. Funny how Trump didn't fire their asses months ago.

And of interest to this IT-interested author, the computer code of Prof. Neil Ferguson's  epidemiological model is now released, and is receiving scathing reviews. Perhaps I am being nostalgic, but in former times, someone like that would of been professionally vilified, socially ostracized for all time, and be sent to live out his days in a remote cottage somewhere, reading only books. I don't suppose computer modelling chicanery gets one a jail sentence, but who knows these days, with the Woke-y fuzzifying the application of the law, if not, government encouragement of lawlessness.

05-11-2020
A wiped-out day all day yesterday, even while working outside in the vineyard. I suspect another long take-down, like they pulled over 1999-2002, and then trounced me with their fuckery, which still continues to this day. Though then, the abuse and harassment was at an intense level and it suddenly lessened once illegally incarcerated.

And what is it about this particular look back stare that interests the Psychopaths. I was heading out of SOF supermarket, passing by the manned checkouts (which I don't normally use, but the self checkouts were choked up), and this woman in her thirties was standing with her back to me some 15' away, attending to the processing of her groceries, and for no seeming reason she turns her head around to look over her shoulder at me, giving me a sly smile. I gave her a cursory glance, and didn't look any more as I was in a very dulled-down state (per above paragraph), and kept walking out. How did she know exactly when to look at me and stare? These kind of well timed stares (or alternatively, Fuckwits stepping in my path), just freak me out. All I can conclude is that my entire proximate realm (people and objects), and me, are timed to the microsecond in an orchestrated ensemble of incredible proportions, a pseudo reality of a kind. Any other analysis or perceptions of this vignette or others like it from other TI's would be welcome.

Enough verbiage for a posting I reckon, and so to launch this one into the Interweb.

Still Hobbling

1425h
I am still in this state of cramped calf muscles, now the third day of this, and it forces me to bend over at the waist, straight out of the operative's handbook. They like to orchestrate their operatives to bend over to do anything, as there seems to be more energies coming off. And at least once per day when out, I get this, often in close proximity. Normally I bend my knees to keep my back straight when attending to items low down or on the floor, but for this current "surge" of fuckery this week, that habit has been blocked by the muscle cramps in my legs.

A woodworking router noise has been going for the last 20 minutes and is still continuing as I type this in. No doubt all my past routing experience is feeding into this particular noise, vibration and associated neural activity not otherwise controllable from the remote location where the perps hide out.

And it was an interesting laundry day this morning as the perps had me test two differing batches of the same brand on laundry detergent. The orchestrated delay in getting onto laundry earlier this week created the scenario where there was too much for one washing machine load. And as it "so happened", the old detergent jug had one load's worth left, and sequential second load used the detergent from a new jug, same brand and type, a liquid detergent.

As the perp's have a total obsession over my laundry it was also no surprise that the second washing machine load took an extra five minutes and was in its final spin cycle when I went to the laundry room. There I was compelled to wait in front of the washing machine for at least four minutes until the cycle completed, and and the second load into the dryer with the first load of laundry. All very complicated, and planned down to the last dust bunny, including having the old and the new detergent jugs side by side in the storage area for at least a week. No wonder "I remembered" to get some more in such a timely manner.

This compares to making another shopping trip last night at 2230h to get breakfast cereal as this had been "forgotten" earlier in the day, the only item I truly needed. This also incurred a waddling and pained gait to walk the 200' or less to the grocery store, as the calf muscle cramps "acted up" and got worse as I learned firsthand when I embarked on this nightime shopping trip. I got the usual gangstalking action, though muted somewhat for the later time in the day. I got the now usual "helmet heads", the putative cyclists gangstalking with their cycling helmet on, something they do all the time now. The yellow helmet was featured at least twice by the same asshole.

Other than laundry I haven't ventured outside as I have no regular Friday activities, which makes for a potential four day string of shut-in days, something the perps assiduously manage for. More often it is two days maximum, as there is something that arises and needs me to head out somewhere, all prepped in advance with the gangstalker's choreography.

And speaking of things that "come up", my in-town brother just phoned and want me to look into his neighbor's tree chopping activities and see what privacy amelioration can be determined. Hokey or what, though he did set this up with a 20 minute phone call last night. All part of the script, with central player, me, the last to know about what is going on.

And it is very important to the perps that I remain largely clueless and unknowing, as they like to reduce my emotional and expectational anticipation from any planned (by them) event. This is totally endemic in their practices, and having an whole lifetime (47 years old when they began) of this isn't enough, they had to crank it up as part of the overt harassment phase that they cursed me with over five years ago. I called it designed cluelessness in a past blog posting.

1700h
Back from a pointless trip to my in-town brother's to look at his claimed loss of privacy. Once I was there I knew this entire "issue" was a bullshit ploy, and to have me circulating near him, and to the total (to the studs) renovation that "erupted" next door to him. He was also into revenge fantasies, planning an extra border of tall trees, building a tall fence. The only location where he had a reduction of privacy was his front garden, and lo, he never goes out there except to cut the grass. Mountains from molehills, and a total event to parade the harassment corps around me in traffic.

And a freak in a total pink day-glo outfit arrived on a minibike via the pedestrian lane and stopped in mid-street in front of my brother's house, and started up the in-street debate with the renovation contractor, aka Cheers act, that is, everyone knows each other (except for me). Then, when in the house some five minutes later we were in the house and lo, if my brother isn't called away from the front door by the same building contractor for some vague reason, spending at least 8 minutes outside the house. Meanwhile, I was dispatched to write up my "determinations" as to what he should do with his fence and privacy "issues". Then he came back in, offered me chocolate, and lo, if he didn't take one of the same chocolate bars himself and walk ahead of me with it in hand, just as I was doing. So, we each had the same kind of chocolate bar in hand, were 90 degrees offset, and were talking about what he should do. (Not very much was my recommendation).

On the way to my brother's in his white trades van, and on the way back, it was like being royalty. There were clusters of red vehicles, usually three or four, then white ones, then back to red, then silver-grey vehicles, then silver-grey and white mixtures, then "sandwiches", a red vehicle with a white vehicle fore and aft, then again with a silver-grey sandwich, and then with white vehicles with a mid-blue vehicle. (I am wearing a blue Capilene shirt today, a semi-reflective fabric). Then my brother got me riled up over something I cannot recall (recanting his last confirmation that there were anomalous frequencies of same colored proximate vehicles), and as I was speaking to him he kept opening his mouth, doing the obvious "open mouthing" that the operatives routinely do in their ambulatory gangstalking. More of the same fuckery, just from the family members.

Another theme the perps are pushing is to have my body made hairless, head excepted. There have been a number of web page readings over the past six months or so, and I noted when in the pharmacy yesterday for razor blades, that there were some men's wax strips, a new-to-me product. And as my attention is 100% controllable I have come to know, it was no coincidence that "I" happened to see this product. There have been past incidents of mind-control body hair shaving, but nothing in the past 3 years, so it is most odd that I would find the "need" to do this. Just another senseless diversion to me, but likely a huge deal to the assholes who constantly plant body hair all over my apartment, that surely does not come from me directly. Part of this putative body hair is includes eyelash hairs, and if I lost them at the current rate of 3 or more per day, I wouldn't have any eyelashes left. Usually cleaning the bathroom incurrs a siege of body hairs, as they "arrive" in place of where I have just cleaned. One time cleaning the bathtub, I counted over 40 instances of body hairs materializing from nowhere to land on the just cleaned portions. I have even seen hairs arrive; there is a locallized metallic shimmery event, a like-maser activity, and poof, there is a body hair on the just-cleaned surface. Crazy.

1925h
Another forced crap, this time immediately following dinner. And the now usual fuckover stunt in forcing me to have a shower to clean up; I am batting at .900 on this one, as the perps continue more brown testing.

And speaking of which, here is a classic that must be straight out of their playbook; having chocolate on a road surface in great quantity to analyse the chocolate-road energy interaction. Driving around shit tankers, and parking them on the street outside my residence isn't good enough, nor is a past event of having a worker at a chocolate factory fall into a vat of chocolate. A truck load of chocolate gets dumped on the autobahn. And having a little fire into the energetic mix never hurt, a spacetime "ripping" event, and it served to heat the chocolate up and make it flow on the road surface, presenting more opportunities for direct remote energy assay games between two very problematic substances/surfaces (for the perps). Thirteen tons of chocolate to clean up; and bets are that the perps will be still fucking around having solved nothing after all is done.

2035h
Picture time; from this week, and excuse the fuzzy images in some cases, this is the latest perp tactic to move my hand with the camera in it, or just plain sabotage the picture anyway. And I do have the image stabilization feature on, and still no compensation.

Left; a paving job outside the recreation center where I work out; asphalt is a big obsession of the perps, and so is concrete, and both were on this job, the redi-mix truck was nearby, not shown.












Who in the sane world puts a lane marker on top of a suburban use mini-van? Only the assholes who have some kind of light/color interaction games going, and want to focus that around a vehicle's roof.












This jaywalker has some kind of black plastic object he is using for reference purposes, never mind the absurd jeans outfit he is wearing. And note that the picture was taken (by perp mind/finger control) at the very instant he was in front of a silver-grey vehicle with another headed in the opposite direction. Also note the nurse in a entire hospital green outfit on the other side of the street.












A bare chested gangstalker with a chrome steel empty shopping cart. Normally these assholes have the cart full of plastics and aluminum cans, but this must be a desperation move, down to the shirt and nothing in the cart. Another fuzzy picture courtesy of the fucker's employer.













And more reference objects left out for me to pass by; a palatte in a residential area for wood material reference purposes. Note the grafitti painted on the red post boxes. Nearly every pole, box or large surface I walk by is now marked with grafitti in various colors for the perp's reference purposes.












Aparticleboard reference object for me to walk by, and lo, if I my coat wasn't the same olive drab green color that day.












Left; a parked red truck with two white vehicles behind it, and then two silver grey vehicles behind the white vehicles. Note that the red truck has paint peeling on the front door, a "condition" that is occuring more often, and there is another picture from last week with this same presentation.















A silver-grey between two same colored metallic mid grey vehicles, a "sandwich" condition I call it, and more prevalent of late.














Left; the color coincidence stunt again, this one outside my parent's place in mid week when I was there, and was set up for the entire day.














One of those shots I cannot figure out; the overhead wires on the right side against the blue sky appear to lose their color with the backdrop of the building. I have already zoomed in on this and I cannot figure it out. Also, the dragon fly (rightmost) seems to be oversized. The vertical objects on the building are some kind of aerials, and appear to spit masers at me frequently.













And the common male perp strut is to face me down from 80' to 100' away on the sidewalk, this one having the cover story of waiting for the bus as the adjacent bus stop. And a very perp-like color combination, red and black in an offset checkerboard pattern. Note more grafitti on the wood power pole (center) and the green band as more perp color reference games on the leftmost signpost.

A Late Start and Late Web Access

2030h
I was scripted to get up at 0900h, amounting to a 10 hour sleep, two hours extra, and likely to delay my start time to match up with my mother driving into town to get her discount tea, and pick me up to house sit when my father came back from his Alzheimer's day care, as she was out then. And so, I didn't get online until 1730h or so, which is almost 10 hours later that usual. It seems, that the perps wanted to constrain online access until much later in the day, which they did in part because the PC at my parent's place is abominably slow, (read, ripe for perp mendacity with a plausible cover story).

And so, when she came I had just finished showering, shaving and dental hygeine, a threesome of activities that the perps devote no end of remote assay efforts to understand in energetic terms. They will even fly the zinger masers (small blackish fuzzy balls) into my mouth, and I regularly (everytime, and more than once) have the filamentous maser variant emanate from my face to then pass through the shaving foam, face cloth, razor blade or any combination. So, translated into perp terms, they got me out of my apartment on the heels of my (later) morning routine, and that made me more of an inviting target it would seem. I got the manager gangstalking me in the elevator, still pretending to not know my name (har, har), and he was wearing a black shirt over a green one, with black pants to accompany me down to the lobby.

As it turned out, my mother had not yet got the tea, playing the vagueness angle to the last possible moment, but then I wasn't hurried in my morning routine either, thinking she would arrive to disrupt it. Funny how she knew I had enough time, as I had phoned her in advance, and she said she would be departing within minutes, usually not sufficient time to undertake all what I had intended. Anyhow, it worked out, and I drove the one block to the city parkade while the ambulatory gangstalkers who arrived for my exit from the apartment building to her waiting vehicle were allowed to catch up and cross the street in front of us at the crosswalk while I waited for the green light. A very common perp gangstalk method, having a second gangstalking having been held up.

As usual, they put on the dudes in their mouth and tongue games, not to mention head turnings and spinnings, and besides, what on earth would they be doing out in a residential block at 1000h on a weekday, all dressed up?

Soo.... the parkade was duly stocked with color coordinated clusters of vehicles, per "normal", as in the the distorted reality normal; silver greys, reds, whites, blacks, greens, and the odd brown vehicle, and navy blue also. (I sleep on a navy blue colored matress).

And when on the street there was a constant flush of ambulatory male gangstalkers, coursing about, and doing their little acts of path crossing, evenif blantantly odd. And one gangstalker on the brown color referencing, packing a stack of flattened cardboard boxes. Again, plenty of color coordination among the freaks and the rest of the salaried pretenders. And guess what color was featured? It was green; they lined themselves up, then split apart, trying differing greens and combinations and permutations, walking between us and around us, and getting plenty of right side passing on me, where they get ambulatory gangstalkers coming head on to pass me on my right side, as usually I stay on the rightmost track on the sidewalk, being fed up with this game all the time. And of course my breakneck gait was amply slowed down in walking with my mother, another golden perp opportunity, as there are not many people who walk as fast as I do, likely by perp design of course.

Just like yesterday at the gym; they had three widely differing green shirted males clustering together in the same N. location that they normally have the red shirted gangstalkers.

And in the interests of perpetuating the vague, my mother suggested having a coffee at this location, mainly known for its teas, Murchies. And so we spent an hour or so, and lo, if another shift of males wasn't in place at least two tables, many wearing green. And where do all these swarms of working age males come from on a weekday, working time? There seems to be no end of them, and not even a blonde "starter stalker". And as the gangstalking progresses, the more of a freakshow it becomes; the obese, redhaired, chinless, big hatted, in wheelchairs/walkers, "cool dudes" in shades, and a few other demographics, some that pertain to skin color. One was a very light skinned Asian, a most unusual specimen.

And in one of the "stand there" stalkers with coffee cup held in front of him, arranged in a mid sidewalk cluster to thread through, was a fellow I know who I hired a few times in my long past house ownership days, as he is a journeyman plumber. And lo, if my parent's downstairs toilet wasn't malfunctioning this morning, and later, when later back at her place, my mother asked me to see if I could fix it, and if not, call a plumber, saying that I could make the choice. She got the word "plumber" in a few more times before she left, not to mention the perps planting the name and image of the aforementioned plumber in mind; it was a theme for the day.

And never mind me working over the toilet tank to fix the mysterious problem of the chain tightening up and "somehow" and causing the flap valve to stay open. The chain connecting the lever and the flap valve had been turned repeatedly, and it had kinked up on itself by some dint of magic the perps pulled in the night, likely from a remote location. I call it "toilet time"; working on it so to hang around there for more than the usual visit. And don't forget that an East Indian apartment repairman came to fix my toilet when I first moved in, he getting some brown skinned toilet time, and other energetic interaction considerations.

And that was all very prosaic as my father came back at about 1500h, and the first thing he did was pull the (brown) teabags from the sink that had been left there, the perp's notion of an entre to having hot tea some 20 minutes later. My father laid on the Alzheimer's bullshit real thick, pretending not to know what to do with a knife, but getting another one, and the brown cutting board with it. Then he pretended not to know what to do with the red jam, but got marmalade out of the fridge instead, and then used the dinner knife to cut the toasted scone down the middle. Everything he did (clutching teapots, placing marmalade on the jam on the toast, removing his scone from the plate and placing it on the tablecloth etc.), no matter how irregular, was totally perp focussed and within the scheme of their jerkarounds I see or hear all day. And it seems that he supplies obvious clues as to this being a total act; as he knows some things, and not others, all to create a scene and have me yelling at him, this time as to what a fucking knife was and that it was right under his hand. Also, if he can get me waving and pointing, what his confreres do all the time, it is better for the perp fuckover games.

Then he went extra silly and asked me at least five times if I wanted to go out for a walk. By then, he was doing his agitated bullshit act, in light colored brown clothing no less. Finally my mother came home, but not after my father had "inadvertently" locked the front door, another detail that he "somehow" remembered. Just one big fucking perp game, all his highly irregular behavior, all to further this sick minded fuckover depravity.

I have been walking slower and in some pain today; the perps used yesterday's 6 minute treadmill run as an excuse to hammer me with muscle cramps in my calves, all the better to track neural activity with, the injection of pain. And don't I know that one; should I grab something, "somehow" my fingers always find the sharp corner, even when there isn't one. And also, plenty of crumbs "find their way" under my fingers, and I have no idea where they come from. More tactile sensations to add to neural energetics studies in realtime from a remote location, IMHO. Those, and the ever more increasing jabs in the ass or dick, all depending on what the cover story is (sometimes), or likely other parameters for which I am not aware of.

And I took the bus back from my parent's place to downtown, and lo, if the buses were early and I missed two of them (opposite directions, but sharing the same inbound thoroughfare), and had to wait some 20 minutes while at least a500 gangstalking vehicles coursed by in formations (per same description, above ), this in a large subdivision area, at 1630h, too early for the commuters, and no cover story for the downtown bound road traffic. Then, the perps slowly stacked the bus with over 40 passengers, when 4 would of been the normal load for that direction and time of day. The usual color coordinated gangstalkers, as well as the aforementioned demographics again. And lo, if my daughter's pre-school teacher of 10 to 12 years ago didn't "somehow" arrive on the bus and sit next to me, pretending not to know me, she of brown skin, being from the Phillipines. Call it familial gangstalking, and likely for comparative purposes, as my duaghter was never subjected to the same humiliations and developmental traumatizations as I was. And as I typed that, a huge siren cascade erupted.

Four days ago when I took the bus to my parent's, the perps put on a negro woman gangstalker, and then pulled her off inside of three stops, as I suppose, too much "brown" power was coming off her, and my neural cells, steeped in traumatizations related to that color were somehow reacting, though again, I am not consciously aware of anything. And it seemed that I called this particular stunt in advance in this blog posting, and can anyone tell me as to how that could be construed as a clinical condition? Especially when I have seen this gambit at least a dozen times. Sometimes, I need to brag when I can predict the perp plans in advance.

The apartment manager just went on a door pounding mission earlier to tell everyone that the water will be shut off all day tommorrow, another perp orchestrated event that has followed me over the past four residence locations. And yes, the perps have a huge fixation over water, where it goes, where it comes from, and I suspect the month long (or more) boil water advisory in Vancouver last year was also an orchestrated stunt. After all, the perps wouldn't pull that in this town as they would lose local support, so why not a surrogate location of Vancouver, and a larger population as well. And could it be that the perps want to fuck me out of doing the laundry in the morning tomorrow? (And as I wrote that, I got a jab in the ass and more of the faux "neighbor" water use noise.)

And I learned that my daughter sold the vehicle I gave her last year, my 1982 Volvo 245 I ran for over 16 years, funny she did not say anything two days ago when I talked to her on the phone. My ex says she will get something more "driveable", which translated, means something more suited to nonstop vehicular gangstalking. Maybe I will make a color prediction; black or green. And maybe said vehicle will "show up" around me more often, perhaps "someone" in the neighborhood bought it. (Forgive me, I am still pleased with myself about predicting the gangstalking action above, and cannot help myself in making more predictions). And my ex says she will use the money for something else and is most appreciative of the money. Har, har; imagine what I could do with it, like stay out of the red.

Time to call this done for the day; though I did get some variety, even if it was a gangstalking freakshow.