[I found this partially written posting in 02-2019, but it relates to events to 12-15-2018 and the prior week]
Working at the construction site still, last week. A whole lot less of us trades guys now, as in less of a dude flush around me, especially noted when I get out of elevators or turn corners in the hallways, or transit from the building to the parking garage, or outside directly through the front doors (when open).
A new variation of the stalking coverage is the increased coverage I get with the brown skinned stalkers, aka, trades workers. And this past week this particular stalker sub-population has an almost unerring timing of finding me every day after lunch. (And as regular readers will know, post meal ingestion is a prime stalking occasion). The brown guys seem to find me in the most obscure locations, even on floors where there is little trades activity or even where the room is finished. First it was the rude-assed E. Indians, and it is not just me that complains about them; my co-workers and other trades, and even the assistant superintendent indicated that he has heard many complaints about them. Then the Indonesian guy seemed to find me, all to putter around with something in the same room while I was there for 10 minutes.
12-12-2018
Ben Waters put on a good show at the Dream Cafe, the first of four shows he is doing here. I was later told he was in better form the next three nights as he was tired from his travel that same day, all the way from the UK to here in Penticton no less. His son was featured more than last time, and he put on an admirable performance.
And of course, even with my own seat at my own table, there just has to be one in every crowd, and they "happen" to be next to me, or more accurately, in front of me. The ridiculous high hand clapping, you know (if you are a TI), where they deliberately obstruct your vision (line of sight) of the performers. I don't think I have encountered this before at this venue, but it defies conventional levels of coincidence that this keeps erupting around me at live performances.
Instead of getting the direct stare from the performer, as usually "happens", there was a musician standing nearby, and whom Ben Waters mentioned, but this guy didn't go on the stage for whatever reason. So, the stares in my direction were conceivably for this guy, but as he was only 4' away, and on the lower level, why, the extended looks could of been directed at him.
Then there was the "just stand there" dude who pulled this stunt all through the set-break for whatever reason, but again, it is highly consistent with the arranged fuckery that travels with me wherever I go, and seems to be highly choreographed in advance. I don't quite understand why the Psychopaths need to block part of my visual field, usually on repetitive events. This was most noticeable in 2003-2012 when the assholes would station Fuckwits to block my field of view when I was on public transportation, and made themselves most obvious when the bus was headed to the suburbs in mid-day, outside of commuting hours altogether.
At the show, there was a local doctor [cannot recall the context now, 02-2019] who "somehow" lifted his T-shirt to reveal bare flesh, another longstanding stalker stunt. And at end of show said doctor took it upon himself to shake Ben Waters and son's hand. More of the gratuitous glad handing that I have come to know and loathe.
The show end was interesting; normally the audience (read, arranged Fuckwits) hold back and stay in their seats, and I "escape" and take an immediate departure to avoid the crowd clusterfuck. This time, it was opposite; the crowd took an early exit which I decided to wait out, and I was uncharacteristically mellow about the whole deal and not my usual driven self to get out. This hold-me-in-place stunt allowed BW to hang around some 6' from me after the show and natter to his musician pal, mentioned above.
Back to the work scenario; a final few days before the millwork (cabinets and countertops) support role ends, and an interesting final few days it was. I was at the main entry countertop, with my hand on the corian surface, speaking with my work colleague, and this woman comes up and asks me something about the cabinet installations, and I answer her question, and she thanks me, and then puts her hand momentarily on top of mine, a passing touch and then she departs. And what was the purpose of this rude-assed interaction? Why, to get a "touch" on the victim (bio-energetic interaction) and all the better that it be where the public will interact all day long at a public hospital when it opens in three months, and too, that it occurs on a plastic resin surface.
Enough said, and again, this particular posting is a "find" that I did not finish until a few months later after these events.
Showing posts with label touch games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label touch games. Show all posts
Sunday, February 10, 2019
Sunday, December 09, 2018
Sticky Negro at Work
12-03-2018
A negro wall covering tradesman was hounding my ass at work yesterday, a Monday, the usual day for escalated perp fuckery. Said fellow was working on wall coverings, and on one room I was working on, both his appearances seemed totally gratuitous. Hanging around, admiring my work cart for crissakes, and then fumbling around and handling one of my tools. For his second act, timed perfectly just when I started applying PL glue, and after his dissembling banter, he then declared he wanted to use the door to outside which was blocked by a tradesman's ladder. How fucking lame was that, when no one uses that door anyhow?
In the afternoon we met up again in another room where the same negro was putting on wall covering ahead of me so that I could then put on the chair railings afterward. A skunky looking Asian joined him as well, who took it upon himself to borrow my tin snips for crissakes. The three of us nattered on and off, each doing our respective jobs and got along fine. I find it interesting that the perps put on negro stalkers from time to time, all the more evident in that they are as rare as hen's teeth in these here parts. But I suppose some are going to show up somewhere, especially in a trades situation where many trades are converging, often with personnel from across Canada.
12-04-2018
A visit to the oncologist in Kelowna today, and the news is mixed. My PSA score went up a little, deviating from the expected trajectory of it going down some more, below 1.0. My summertime PSA was 1.2, and it went up to 1.4 last week. So... more doubt, (aka big time FUD) as another test is scheduled in three months, and depending on the result, a possible further test with a radioactive tracer in Vancouver. The perps just love that shit; having radioactive tracers clinically injected and then a following scan. Two bone scans in 2016-17 needed technetium, and the SPECT scans of 2001 before the assholes went berserk/overt in 04-2002. And a seemingly needless MRI in 2000. Woohoo... another dimension to perp fuckery is radioactive tracer infusion with a following scan. As if being irradiated daily by a conformal beam gamma ray beam for 6 weeks last year wasn't enough.
And it was too much; based on my yoga competency I finally feel I am pulling out of the hole the radiotherapy treatment put me into. With a big assist from my ADD Rx, started 07-2018. Though I still have infuriating side effects that I won't go into, and today's visit to the oncologist didn't provide any optimism. Another year possibly he says.
A tattoo-free new yoga instructor yesterday. (So it would seem that the prior instructor's tattoos were too disgusting for the perps to gain whatever intelligence they were looking for while I avoided this grotesque Unfavored visage). I have encountered this instructor before, and she is decidedly worth looking at. (And she "happened" to be at the SOF supermarket for two of my visits in the prior four weeks). From 15 yogis per class regularly and now it is suddenly down to 6 of us. I cannot see that she would deter attendance, as it was a good work out. And as it "happened" the only yogi who says hello to me was in the foyer when I arrived, she having finished her class. She also has the distinction of the only yogi with whom I have had physical contact in class as a result of a one time instruction session about two years ago. Interesting that this yogi now only shows up at these transitional junctures almost exclusively.
12-05-2018
Just when I was figuring that this construction gig was done, why, a new task in attending to the "deficiencies" as they call them in the business. In this case, mill work installation that isn't up to scratch in the eyes of the general contractor. I have cleaning and caulking on my list. Though this didn't occur as straightforwardly as it seems. First the foreman said there wasn't much to do, so I was to install chair rails only partially in two rooms that weren't finished. I get the work cart all ready, tools and supplies, get it up to the floor, and then I a call from the foreman that there is a "deficiency list" to attend to. So... I retrieve the work cart, put the tools and supplies away, and then attend to my new task that continued all week. The off-then-on again stunt, this time with employment termination injected into the mix. Been there, done that, and all in keeping with the perp's insane prerogative over the employment theme.
12-07-2018
What is it about stalkers on on my ass at every turn, literally, as I make turns at certain corridor corners especially at the hospital construction site? Yes, these are central locations that hundreds, if not thousands, of personnel, patients and vistors will make when the building is occupied for decades to come. So just leave me the fuck out of it as I don't realy expect to be there very often, if at all. And what is it about the perps and their insane hospital theme they need to keep hammering me with?
This three time loser -(Penticton Herald newspaper, and Ignani is his handle should the link disappear) from a shithole state; now in the local news for kidnapping a couple and then when the trial starts (featured locally), one of kidnap victims skips the country, and the other cannot remember a thing in court (she claims) and has disavowed her police statement at the time. Is this some kind of joke or what? How could anyone ever forget such a traumatic incident? The shitholer has already done 42 months in jail, awaits another trial for assault in jail, and is now in the middle of this court farce for 10 counts related to his kidnapping of the couple. No doubt this woman's "memory failure" is on account of the kidnapper's further nefarious dealings, as in threats or cash.
Lets check out the kidnapper's total past and future taxpayer tab: 42 months at $150k/year in jail. Then this trial and the next one; likely to be another $500k in legal and incarceration costs that this mofo has rung up by the time he is sentenced. And then this $1m loser cannot be sent back to where he came from (say the immigration apologists) because he might be executed in Iran. I say fuck it; let the Iranians deal with their very own spawn and have them do us all a favor. The limp-wristed do-gooding limousine liberals that created this legal absurdity need a wake-up call to stop acting like ruinous spendy naive boy scouts and to demonstrate some gumption in dealing with such financial squandering. (The said kidnapper's trade seems to be drug trafficker, so do we need this shitholer anyhow?) Trump has got it right on this one, as profane and crude as he is. As for Canada, we won't ever get it, as the bleating media hasn't got the gumption of a wet rag. Nor will we ever get anything close to a Trump, as sorely as it is needed. Talk about pressing all my buttons.
I am doing a lot of caulking this week, laying a bead of just the right size of sealant at the join of counter and wall surfaces, matching my caulking gun travel speed with the trigger pressure, which is also moderated by the size the the gap that I see coming up. It gets very zen, pulling all these dynamic parameters into play and doing it right. And just when I get there, why, some kind of interruption then "happens" to screw it up, often just a little, but a disruption all the same. "Somehow" I need to make an extra step, I run into something, my fingers somehow just don't do what I want etc. and the caulking bead "somehow" goes too thin or thick or else the irregularly bead globs up. (All fixable by later (many) iterative passes with moistened fingers and cloths, but more work all the same). And have I mentioned before how much the perps just love to disrupt a zen moment, or otherwise level of competence attainment just so they can fuck it up and cause extra work and perturb me, sometimes to extreme levels (though not at a paid job)? And just what is their problem that they simply must jerk me around as soon as competence/total task engagement develops?
And what is it about other tradesmen, sometimes tradeswomen, who "need" to lean on my work cart at the hospital construction site? Usually it takes place in the elevator, a more compressed room if you will, where someone puts their hand on my work cart that has my tools and supplies on it. Like WTF; it isn't as if they are off balance, or the work cart is shoved up beside them, but they do this, perhaps 2-4x/week. It must be some kind of energetic comparison, where this shill/operative needs to replicate their interaction with the same work cart. That is, replicate and have it compared to me, with me having pushed it into position, though not necessarily touching it at that moment they are.
The most egregious example of this work cart touching games last week was this apparent electrician, a woman who came along and plopped her paper plans on my work cart while I was about 4' away, and no one else was around. (I was attending to a room's "deficiencies", and not even close to an elevator). She doesn't look up, doesn't ask, just "happens" by and dumps her papers on my cart for a minute or two. Fucking rude, and just as bad as the E. Indians on the work site. Which, in speaking with the general contractor superintendent, seems to be a common complaint with that lot. It isn't just me.
Enough rants for the week, and to wind down my last week as a construction laborer. Though I really don't have any complaints, as it is much more interesting than vineyard work.
A negro wall covering tradesman was hounding my ass at work yesterday, a Monday, the usual day for escalated perp fuckery. Said fellow was working on wall coverings, and on one room I was working on, both his appearances seemed totally gratuitous. Hanging around, admiring my work cart for crissakes, and then fumbling around and handling one of my tools. For his second act, timed perfectly just when I started applying PL glue, and after his dissembling banter, he then declared he wanted to use the door to outside which was blocked by a tradesman's ladder. How fucking lame was that, when no one uses that door anyhow?
In the afternoon we met up again in another room where the same negro was putting on wall covering ahead of me so that I could then put on the chair railings afterward. A skunky looking Asian joined him as well, who took it upon himself to borrow my tin snips for crissakes. The three of us nattered on and off, each doing our respective jobs and got along fine. I find it interesting that the perps put on negro stalkers from time to time, all the more evident in that they are as rare as hen's teeth in these here parts. But I suppose some are going to show up somewhere, especially in a trades situation where many trades are converging, often with personnel from across Canada.
12-04-2018
A visit to the oncologist in Kelowna today, and the news is mixed. My PSA score went up a little, deviating from the expected trajectory of it going down some more, below 1.0. My summertime PSA was 1.2, and it went up to 1.4 last week. So... more doubt, (aka big time FUD) as another test is scheduled in three months, and depending on the result, a possible further test with a radioactive tracer in Vancouver. The perps just love that shit; having radioactive tracers clinically injected and then a following scan. Two bone scans in 2016-17 needed technetium, and the SPECT scans of 2001 before the assholes went berserk/overt in 04-2002. And a seemingly needless MRI in 2000. Woohoo... another dimension to perp fuckery is radioactive tracer infusion with a following scan. As if being irradiated daily by a conformal beam gamma ray beam for 6 weeks last year wasn't enough.
And it was too much; based on my yoga competency I finally feel I am pulling out of the hole the radiotherapy treatment put me into. With a big assist from my ADD Rx, started 07-2018. Though I still have infuriating side effects that I won't go into, and today's visit to the oncologist didn't provide any optimism. Another year possibly he says.
A tattoo-free new yoga instructor yesterday. (So it would seem that the prior instructor's tattoos were too disgusting for the perps to gain whatever intelligence they were looking for while I avoided this grotesque Unfavored visage). I have encountered this instructor before, and she is decidedly worth looking at. (And she "happened" to be at the SOF supermarket for two of my visits in the prior four weeks). From 15 yogis per class regularly and now it is suddenly down to 6 of us. I cannot see that she would deter attendance, as it was a good work out. And as it "happened" the only yogi who says hello to me was in the foyer when I arrived, she having finished her class. She also has the distinction of the only yogi with whom I have had physical contact in class as a result of a one time instruction session about two years ago. Interesting that this yogi now only shows up at these transitional junctures almost exclusively.
12-05-2018
Just when I was figuring that this construction gig was done, why, a new task in attending to the "deficiencies" as they call them in the business. In this case, mill work installation that isn't up to scratch in the eyes of the general contractor. I have cleaning and caulking on my list. Though this didn't occur as straightforwardly as it seems. First the foreman said there wasn't much to do, so I was to install chair rails only partially in two rooms that weren't finished. I get the work cart all ready, tools and supplies, get it up to the floor, and then I a call from the foreman that there is a "deficiency list" to attend to. So... I retrieve the work cart, put the tools and supplies away, and then attend to my new task that continued all week. The off-then-on again stunt, this time with employment termination injected into the mix. Been there, done that, and all in keeping with the perp's insane prerogative over the employment theme.
12-07-2018
What is it about stalkers on on my ass at every turn, literally, as I make turns at certain corridor corners especially at the hospital construction site? Yes, these are central locations that hundreds, if not thousands, of personnel, patients and vistors will make when the building is occupied for decades to come. So just leave me the fuck out of it as I don't realy expect to be there very often, if at all. And what is it about the perps and their insane hospital theme they need to keep hammering me with?
This three time loser -(Penticton Herald newspaper, and Ignani is his handle should the link disappear) from a shithole state; now in the local news for kidnapping a couple and then when the trial starts (featured locally), one of kidnap victims skips the country, and the other cannot remember a thing in court (she claims) and has disavowed her police statement at the time. Is this some kind of joke or what? How could anyone ever forget such a traumatic incident? The shitholer has already done 42 months in jail, awaits another trial for assault in jail, and is now in the middle of this court farce for 10 counts related to his kidnapping of the couple. No doubt this woman's "memory failure" is on account of the kidnapper's further nefarious dealings, as in threats or cash.
Lets check out the kidnapper's total past and future taxpayer tab: 42 months at $150k/year in jail. Then this trial and the next one; likely to be another $500k in legal and incarceration costs that this mofo has rung up by the time he is sentenced. And then this $1m loser cannot be sent back to where he came from (say the immigration apologists) because he might be executed in Iran. I say fuck it; let the Iranians deal with their very own spawn and have them do us all a favor. The limp-wristed do-gooding limousine liberals that created this legal absurdity need a wake-up call to stop acting like ruinous spendy naive boy scouts and to demonstrate some gumption in dealing with such financial squandering. (The said kidnapper's trade seems to be drug trafficker, so do we need this shitholer anyhow?) Trump has got it right on this one, as profane and crude as he is. As for Canada, we won't ever get it, as the bleating media hasn't got the gumption of a wet rag. Nor will we ever get anything close to a Trump, as sorely as it is needed. Talk about pressing all my buttons.
I am doing a lot of caulking this week, laying a bead of just the right size of sealant at the join of counter and wall surfaces, matching my caulking gun travel speed with the trigger pressure, which is also moderated by the size the the gap that I see coming up. It gets very zen, pulling all these dynamic parameters into play and doing it right. And just when I get there, why, some kind of interruption then "happens" to screw it up, often just a little, but a disruption all the same. "Somehow" I need to make an extra step, I run into something, my fingers somehow just don't do what I want etc. and the caulking bead "somehow" goes too thin or thick or else the irregularly bead globs up. (All fixable by later (many) iterative passes with moistened fingers and cloths, but more work all the same). And have I mentioned before how much the perps just love to disrupt a zen moment, or otherwise level of competence attainment just so they can fuck it up and cause extra work and perturb me, sometimes to extreme levels (though not at a paid job)? And just what is their problem that they simply must jerk me around as soon as competence/total task engagement develops?
And what is it about other tradesmen, sometimes tradeswomen, who "need" to lean on my work cart at the hospital construction site? Usually it takes place in the elevator, a more compressed room if you will, where someone puts their hand on my work cart that has my tools and supplies on it. Like WTF; it isn't as if they are off balance, or the work cart is shoved up beside them, but they do this, perhaps 2-4x/week. It must be some kind of energetic comparison, where this shill/operative needs to replicate their interaction with the same work cart. That is, replicate and have it compared to me, with me having pushed it into position, though not necessarily touching it at that moment they are.
The most egregious example of this work cart touching games last week was this apparent electrician, a woman who came along and plopped her paper plans on my work cart while I was about 4' away, and no one else was around. (I was attending to a room's "deficiencies", and not even close to an elevator). She doesn't look up, doesn't ask, just "happens" by and dumps her papers on my cart for a minute or two. Fucking rude, and just as bad as the E. Indians on the work site. Which, in speaking with the general contractor superintendent, seems to be a common complaint with that lot. It isn't just me.
Enough rants for the week, and to wind down my last week as a construction laborer. Though I really don't have any complaints, as it is much more interesting than vineyard work.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Smell Jam
1150h
Forget the ruse of spraying the hallways with "air freshener", just jam it up my nose at each breath says the orchestration manager. That might be the new perpthink du jour, who knows, but that is what is happening. All to accompany the myriad of transpositional typos that is going on, and this constant noise cycling of my PC, the latest in bringing vibration and noise to my feet, almost literally.
1200h
It is Sunday, and the power washing noise has erupted the second I opened the window after the hallway spraying erupted. The front door closure and room shake has started up as well as typo hell. (Five "attempts" (read mind controlled fuckery) to type the word "and" after 35 years of keyboarding).
1310h
The sound of power washing continues, through lunch and will likely be my accompaniment for the digestive period, possibly another hour. That there isn't any commercial reason to do this in the neighborhood does not perturb the cover story fabrication. It is a case of ignoring it, and doing it anyway.
The "touch games" keep getting played; a sensation of touching something as if I had inadvertently knocked, stepped, backed into or whatever the scenario calls for. Upon inspection, I find the "touched" body part >2" away from the supposed cause, and if I only moved 1/2" then what is the real cause of the sensation? Now that some >20 of these "happen" in any given day, an substantial increase from zero a year ago, it is clear that it is just another jerkaround in the infinite arsenal of the World Gestapo.
The same assholes also blew fresh coffee grounds on my work surface again today, which magically landed after a vertical trajectory on the outside of the coffee pot (made of glass). And a second "secret" amount also landed 180 degrees on the other side of the coffee pot which was nowhere near the spoon. Such trivialities over the perps obsession with all matter that has a brown color, and this has been every day at least for the last 4.5 years.
Now the glass bashing act has started up, and it is amazing how the supposed perpetrator can get a new supply of bottles every day, and needs to clash them together when he never did until the last two months.
1435h
The power washing mercifully ended and like I thought, covered the lunch digestion period. It is the PC noise that is carrying the assholes, as no doubt noise to noise correlation with neural energetics is the holy grail of remotely applied fuckery. And the overhead clunking and squeaking is also serving as some kind of intermediary in this eclectic game of noisestalking. The operatives had a noise flurry earlier, but I cannot recall it being too significant. The big deal is outside noise, especially as I have my window open. Never before have I had the opportunity to analyse every environmental factor (room shake, hallway tromping and overhead clunking erupt) like I do now, and I can think of better things to do when I was allowed to have a life that was nominally my own, little did I know that it wasn't.
Another irrational rant from a email correspondent erupted; why are there so many thin skinned people out there, save TI's who come by that out of no choice of their own?
I will be staying the night at my parents' place and get to watch them in their gangstalk games; one (father) who is so seemingly demented that he serves as a foil to do the dumbest things, like standing at a chair instead of sitting in it. But he seems to know when we are all going out as he puts his coat on with no direction. He must be totalled controlled; either to put on the act of dementia, or in the process of it which fits the gangstalking profile 100%. I often wonder what he got out of this save new vehicles, a house and possible remunerative jobs.
My mother is the other culprit and she seems to be able to tap into all kinds of social events and news that she never demonstrated before. I, or by way of planted thought, have facetiously wondered what medication she is on, but the real answer as far as I know is "none". It is a mystery as to where she gets her information feed, as beyond the daily newspaper, the local variant of a corporate chain, I don't know her to read much that is current. It is all about submitting to the Feral Family Gangstalk day, starting in a few hours.
As part of these weekend visits the perps test me out on red meat usually, and I have no complaint with that, but I now know this to be a total obsession of the perps. And that they have guided me off it since 1980 for the most part doesn't deter their compulsive brains one bit, it is only an objective of many hundreds it seems. All part of the relentless and depraved harassment show.
The is a namesake TI who I communicate with, and she hasn't eaten red meat for over two decades, and seems to have a similar diet to me. More coincidence of the managed kind I suspect.
Another dull blog posting for a dull day, but I don't get much opportunity to use my parents' PC as the mouse is so messed up.
Forget the ruse of spraying the hallways with "air freshener", just jam it up my nose at each breath says the orchestration manager. That might be the new perpthink du jour, who knows, but that is what is happening. All to accompany the myriad of transpositional typos that is going on, and this constant noise cycling of my PC, the latest in bringing vibration and noise to my feet, almost literally.
1200h
It is Sunday, and the power washing noise has erupted the second I opened the window after the hallway spraying erupted. The front door closure and room shake has started up as well as typo hell. (Five "attempts" (read mind controlled fuckery) to type the word "and" after 35 years of keyboarding).
1310h
The sound of power washing continues, through lunch and will likely be my accompaniment for the digestive period, possibly another hour. That there isn't any commercial reason to do this in the neighborhood does not perturb the cover story fabrication. It is a case of ignoring it, and doing it anyway.
The "touch games" keep getting played; a sensation of touching something as if I had inadvertently knocked, stepped, backed into or whatever the scenario calls for. Upon inspection, I find the "touched" body part >2" away from the supposed cause, and if I only moved 1/2" then what is the real cause of the sensation? Now that some >20 of these "happen" in any given day, an substantial increase from zero a year ago, it is clear that it is just another jerkaround in the infinite arsenal of the World Gestapo.
The same assholes also blew fresh coffee grounds on my work surface again today, which magically landed after a vertical trajectory on the outside of the coffee pot (made of glass). And a second "secret" amount also landed 180 degrees on the other side of the coffee pot which was nowhere near the spoon. Such trivialities over the perps obsession with all matter that has a brown color, and this has been every day at least for the last 4.5 years.
Now the glass bashing act has started up, and it is amazing how the supposed perpetrator can get a new supply of bottles every day, and needs to clash them together when he never did until the last two months.
1435h
The power washing mercifully ended and like I thought, covered the lunch digestion period. It is the PC noise that is carrying the assholes, as no doubt noise to noise correlation with neural energetics is the holy grail of remotely applied fuckery. And the overhead clunking and squeaking is also serving as some kind of intermediary in this eclectic game of noisestalking. The operatives had a noise flurry earlier, but I cannot recall it being too significant. The big deal is outside noise, especially as I have my window open. Never before have I had the opportunity to analyse every environmental factor (room shake, hallway tromping and overhead clunking erupt) like I do now, and I can think of better things to do when I was allowed to have a life that was nominally my own, little did I know that it wasn't.
Another irrational rant from a email correspondent erupted; why are there so many thin skinned people out there, save TI's who come by that out of no choice of their own?
I will be staying the night at my parents' place and get to watch them in their gangstalk games; one (father) who is so seemingly demented that he serves as a foil to do the dumbest things, like standing at a chair instead of sitting in it. But he seems to know when we are all going out as he puts his coat on with no direction. He must be totalled controlled; either to put on the act of dementia, or in the process of it which fits the gangstalking profile 100%. I often wonder what he got out of this save new vehicles, a house and possible remunerative jobs.
My mother is the other culprit and she seems to be able to tap into all kinds of social events and news that she never demonstrated before. I, or by way of planted thought, have facetiously wondered what medication she is on, but the real answer as far as I know is "none". It is a mystery as to where she gets her information feed, as beyond the daily newspaper, the local variant of a corporate chain, I don't know her to read much that is current. It is all about submitting to the Feral Family Gangstalk day, starting in a few hours.
As part of these weekend visits the perps test me out on red meat usually, and I have no complaint with that, but I now know this to be a total obsession of the perps. And that they have guided me off it since 1980 for the most part doesn't deter their compulsive brains one bit, it is only an objective of many hundreds it seems. All part of the relentless and depraved harassment show.
The is a namesake TI who I communicate with, and she hasn't eaten red meat for over two decades, and seems to have a similar diet to me. More coincidence of the managed kind I suspect.
Another dull blog posting for a dull day, but I don't get much opportunity to use my parents' PC as the mouse is so messed up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)