Clutch Play

11-27-2017
Back to gratuitous mention games, as in dropping specific words that happen to be topical, when the perpetrating party should have no idea of such. Or aka, managed coincidences. To wit, I had the clutch in my vehicle replaced, and they finished it early, so my fickle friend drove me to the shop and I paid for it, and it drove my just-repaired vehicle up to Kelowna for my radiotherapy treatment visit today. I had to do a lot of prior online research on clutches to get the one that wasn't ridiculously expensive, nor a cheapie. I expressly wanted to avoid the latter, as this vehicle has had two clutches in 118k km, and they shouldn't wear that fast. (My perp abetting parents owned the vehicle until Jan. 2017). Needless to say, between researching, obtaining, and finally getting the repair finished this morning, the term "clutch" (as in driveline vehicle part, not the woman's purse thing), has been germane for at least three weeks.

And so today at the radiotherapy waiting room, this logger guy was holding forth, and a guy opposite him was detailing his woes about his chainsaw and that it bogged down under load. The logger then started into attempting to figure the problem out; "does it have a clutch on the drive shaft?". The perps now wipe me out so I don't notice these "name droppings" at the time, and only let me in on it later in the day. No doubt this one still has some legs, but I hope it isn't the new drive line clutch that begets more mention.

And the above mentioned logger guy kept banging on the arm rest of the sofa we occupied, and of course, the vibration transmits over to me. Normally I avoid shared public furniture for that very reason. Now in the sixth and last week of M-F radiotherapy, they finally herded me onto this particular seat. Its the same at concert venues, aircraft and like shared seat situations; some asshole starts up the seat banging in order to have the vibrations transmit to me. Said logger guy also did his best to do some arm waving in my peripheral vision; we did that at least twice before in the past two weeks, though not with him. Why does this insane shit go on relentlessly now for 15 years?

I feel fatter than ever today; the radiotherapy has already puffed me up by 15lb, and that was last week. Given the past transgressions of clinical criminality of giving me dopamine blocking medications which puffed me up 30lb, I suspect the gamma radiation of the radiotherapy is depleting my dopamine in and around my prostate. This is a focused beam, aka, conformal external beam radiotherapy, and is aimed at my prostate by way of a prior CT scan that determines its precise location each visit, with a little extra outside tolerance. So... it is clear to me that this whole radiotherapy is all about depleting my dopamine, this time in a very specific location. (Dopamine is a hormone, and not just a neurotransmitter in the central nervous system). Haven't we done this shit before? Yes; 5 months of illegal incarceration in 2003 to give me dopamine agonists that beat the hell out of me. And IMHO this whole prostate cancer would of never happened had I been allowed my very effective dopamine agonist medication, as dopamine mediates the immune system, one of its many hormonal effects. And it simply isn't enough to be dopamine deficient all one's life, and be ADD and dysthymic. Then they jump on the victim, harass the living shit out of him, and then deplete yet more dopamine, all the way to radiotherapy.

Yoga tonight; the usual high turnover where there is 80% turnover each visit. They put on two dudes, one of them going shirtless halfway through. Neither seemed to be much into yoga, and ditto for most of the class. I ended up in front of the instructor, as my usual two locations were taken up, even if I got there early. The dude behind me needed to hover all around me after class, at the pinch point where the coat rack  and the couch to sit down and put my boots on. Been there, had it done to me.

Though arriving at yoga seemed to be a big deal for the perps; the former instructor walked out as I walked in without so much as a hello or a glance, aka the pretend-not-to-know-me gambit. The current instructor, young and easy to look at, then glided into my peripheral vision and said hello, with a smile. Normally she is at the front desk and says hello, as I would see her when I enter and approach the desk to sign in. For some reason the perps had me initially freaked out by her entering my visual field, and blanked me out for a second or two as to who she was. I don't ever make those mistakes; once I see someone I don't ever forget them, especially a yoga instructor whom I see all class, now for at least six classes. I just don't appreciate in any way having my recognition fucked with, and nor do I appreciate being planted with inappropriate reactions.

11-28-2017
Another radiotherapy treatment trip today, now the 4th to last. Owing to "hygeine" apparently, they removed all the magazines and the jig saw puzzle which I never bothered with. So... I was suddenly bereft of reading material for my 40 min. wait, and there was always something interesting. And to add to the waiting room blues, the usual radiotherapy machine was unexpectedly down, so the appointment was about 10 min. late. And then to add to the drama, so to speak, the guy next to me screwed off with my clothes in the standard issue plastic bag. They were there at my feet, and his were on the couch beside him, and "somehow" he made a mistake. Anyhow, the RT technician retrieved them shortly, while the E. Indian woman RT technician began to set me up in in the adjacent (to the usual) room. This one was a mirror image of the usual radiotherapy room I have been treated in for the past five weeks. No big deal, and the RT machine was the same, just that its paneling was a blue-green, instead of grey.

Anyhow, I got done, changed, and then on the way out the clusterfucking began; first at the doors with an elder dude on a walker and attendant, who then dithered and then stalked still outside, which by then, I had sufficient room to walk around them and walk through the parking lot instead of the sidewalk. By the time I got to my vehicle, it was a four vehicle clusterfuck, keeping me in place, and then when I was about to exit, it became a six vehicle clusterfuck in this too small parking lot. Then the elder duckie's attendant backed out, and then the duckie on his walker did a protracted vehicle entrance, having to put the walker away in the trunk as well. Why they didn't make use of the roundabout at the rotunda entrance to the cancer clinic I have no idea. A major vehicle pod around me in getting out of Kelowna as well, all at 1240h on a week day for crissakes. The traffic was traveling at a good clip, but even at that, the elder duckie and his attendant somehow kept immediately in front of me for another 15km. This pair covered me at the entrance doors in the cancer center, in the parking lot with their unnecessarily extended vehicle egress, and then when in their Volvo, from the parking lot through 6 blocks of traffic to the highway for 15km. Not bad, it could of been for further.

On the vehicular stalking show, platform tow trucks seem to be playing big; I must of seen at least 10 en route today. (I won't count the ATV in the back of the pickup truck, but there is always two or three of those).

Later, when back in Penticton, the "need" came on to get a salon tan, and lo, there was major traffic trains in place for that. Then the loafers in the waiting area, and another woman (blonde) walking at me and then cutting to my R side in the classic perp stalker move. Even more vehicle trains when headed back to my place. Somehow, I forgot to take my phone, and lo, there was a message from my fickle friend that our former employer had sold his winery to a major player in the Okanagan Valley. As to what was all important to the perps in all of that, I have no idea. I suspect the above mentioned change in the radiotherapy treatment room just might of got them started.

And what is with the older blondes of late? Mid-40's to 60 y.o., shorter hair, no longer than shoulder length, and sometimes deliberately standing around for no reason. Hair is "roughed up", shredded, or whatever the term is for loosely arranged straight hair, but not in uniform cascades. I have been getting more of them at yoga of late, and also at the cancer center waiting room. Yesterday, after finishing my gamma ray treatment, dressed and heading out, (prime gangstalk moment) one was standing in the hallway looking away, leaning on something, and seeming waiting for someone. Not dressed as a patient, but someone who might be helping one, but the waiting room was only 10' away with plenty of seats, so why stand in the hallway? I was looking at her, though there wasn't much to see with her puffy red down coat on, and just then she turned her head to catch my eye. I kept on walking, not wanting to make any further contact. So what was the point of that? To provide me some kind of older blonde visual bait, at the soonest moment of post-irradiative treatment? Had she been in the waiting room there wouldn't of been any likely visual contact, and certainly not from 3' away. There does seem be an older/elder blonde woman show going on of late, though I am hardly looking for anyone. Perhaps the perps are extrapolating my attraction to younger blondes to older ones. I don't know, or care; just leave me alone.

Ditto for yoga last night; the older blonde with the short shredded hair next to me, and her gorgeous daughter one mat removed. Another family gangstalk event it would seem.

And speaking of blondes; the RT technician who sorted out the swapped clothing bags for me was blonde, and young too. Stocky, and not the quintessential model frame, but genuinely pleasant, a rarity. And big on touches too, not just the usual prodding and positioning while I am on the table, getting positioned with the lasers.

11-29-2017
... radio therapy, ... doctor visit, waiting room ... ambulance chasing... A real one today, with lights flashing on the highway etc. not just the ones cruising around for no seeming reason. Sometimes they follow or lead me to the hospital from 10 miles or more.

For some reason I ended up at LD in mid-day, when normally I go in the evening. The place is becoming a total gangstalking show. And worse yet, they set me up for a total gangstalking skunk. Not only were the two checkouts plugged up, and no end of Fuckwits in pretend shopping mode, but they posted Fuckwits at each of the four shelf locations I wanted to go. Once I saw the crowd at the checkouts, I dumped my intended chocolate purchase and split. Not only extra vehicles, extra aircraft coverage, even a co-worker "chance" meeting in the parking lot. Another fuckwit standing at his Volvo wagon outside with the door open, and a cold wind outside, and not even smoking, the usual excuse for looking stupid while loitering, other than vagrants and doddering duckies. This post-radio therapy treatment return outing in Penticton is highly stalked as I have come to experience over the past five weeks.

11-30-2017
Thursday, and the penultimate radiotherapy treatment today. The waiting room was relatively unpopulated, and perhaps it was the higher elevation snow that deterred out of town patients. It was rainy for most of my journey, though not seriously so. Though, I didn't get into treatment any earlier. It was the two dudes show, the radiotherapy technicians who get to move me into position and line up my markers they tattooed on me back in September. One new to me today, hanging back in the room when I entered with the one that I knew. They seem to like to bring on the Unfavoreds in this furtive manner for some reason.

I got the hallway ditherer buzzing around me when dressed in my togs and ready; the doddering geriatrics are the best excuse for loitering Fuckwits after vagrants. This geriatric stalker was on me when I wanted to exit the waiting room to get loaded up on water (full bladder is a requirement), then again when at the water cooler down the hall. There she asked me about where to pick up the bus. Like WTF; I don't take the bus so how would I know? Regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed with my water intake and where I get it from, and what vessels, pipes, filters etc. that it has passed through. And one cannot trust anyone in these circumstances of being stalked and harassed all the time.

And for once they cleared the hallway once my treatment was over and I got to walk at my normal comparative (this is a hospital) fast pace. Absolutely no one stepping in my way, though a few "crossovers", (crossing my path), one being yesterday's medical assistant who got to ask all those questions before the doctor came in the room (and pretended not to know me).

But the perps weren't done yet, as they pulled a two lane closure on the Kelowna (Bennett) bridge S bound, when I was home bound. Only the R most lane was available, and I had to move over two lanes as there aren't any prior overhead lane indicators. And it was the most ridiculous set up of a "traffic accident"; one grey min-van and six (yes) black vehicles were parked up against the barrier, 1' or so apart, and no sign of any collision, not even road debris. And the ambulance, (remember them, driving up and down every day nearly for five weeks), was in the center lane, and the traffic control people were out too. Plenty of flashing white, red and yellow lights of course. As I drove by, one elder male with white flowing locks was being ushered into the ambulance on my side, the putative patient was mobile and on his feet. And the attendant fireman (fire truck in front, blocking both lanes) turned his head to look at me while I drove by. Like WTF; attend to your job, and why single me out with no end of vehicles slowly streaming past. One of the six black vehicles, (all the black vehicles were in a contiguous line, and the one grey colored van at the E end), was a black Suburban with full tinted windows, not unlike the one that would cruise around me four years ago. I have been through so many faked vehicle accidents I have given up counting, though I haven't seen a larger one like this for a few years.

But the perps weren't done yet; two minutes later a Fuckwit pulls and no-notice lane change in my face just to piss me off, just as I was accelerating in the L most lane, and then the truck in front of him drives within 1" of the concrete barrier so he could throw up sand and grit that was there in the lane median next to the concrete barrier. How fucking stupid was that? He could of flipped the thing, he was that close. I need to get a dash cam to record the vehicular stupidity outbreaks, though with my usual (enforced) bad luck, the only time they would put on stunts would be when it wasn't working.

Then as I cruised through my last traffic light of my 80km trip, the perps put on a real accident. A woman in a black vehicle shot out from the fuel station into the path of a oncoming white vehicle, and they contacted front bumpers. She stopped broadside to the traffic to then hold up it more, but eventually they both crossed the road in front and pulled over so I could drive past them and witness some real, but minor, vehicle damage.

And what is it with black and white vehicles of late? Six black vehicles were clustered around me when setting off yesterday to keep me stuck behind a redi-mix truck, a long standing perp prop. Today, it was four black vehicles while I was kept behind an tractor trailer at the same location. Yesterday, a strange driving behavior was on show, where the Fuckwit would change lanes at each curve in the road, this at 100km/hour, when there was no other traffic an the lanes were plenty wide and the curves were gentle enough to keep one's speed up. I have never seen anything like this before; normally if someone gets "afraid" of a bend, they put on their brakes instead of crossing over to the next lane, and the weather wasn't a factor either.

Red and white vehicles are also common, arranged together in a single visual field. And then they add in Alberta vehicles with their white and red lettered license plates.

My local fickle friend was hanging out at the mall waiting for his car to be fixed and wanted company, so I obliged with a rendezvous at Starbucks there. Another post-treatment outing as it turned out, and what a holy vehicular gangstalking it was. While at Starbucks I also got to see the construction babe from last year's job site, as she "happened" to be on her way out. We chatted briefly, which is kind of like what it was last year at this very same location; I was headed out and she had just arrived. No time for an extended chat in either instance, but what a coincidence, the only two times I have been to that particular Starbucks, and she flits in or out.

So there I was in a public busy area for about 1.5 hours as no end of customers happened to be passing by, and the close-in backpack sweep didn't go unnoticed either. Even my former boss' wife stopped by without so much as a hello. Another pretend-not-to-know me stalker was the green and black haired woman, a cashier at SOF, whom I connected with at least twice (over ADD), who stood 3' away and didn't bother to look up from her smart phone.

12-01-2017
Friday, and my last day of radiotherapy, now six weeks of driving to Kelowna each day is over. I see they had all the plastic bins, possibly for laundry, lining the hallway on my way in, constricting hallway width by 3'. The waiting room crowd was much diminished, only one other. But I do find it curious as to the number of passing Fuckwits that need to stare in while looking back, or stop and look in for nothing, as they are on their way out, post treatment. (I recognized the patients doing this).

Just when I thought I saw the end of Ms. Cne last week, the purposely unpleasant radiotherapy technician of two weeks ago, who only attended me one time, she just "happened" to cruising the hallway oncoming on my last 30' before the doorway of my last radiotherapy session. I didn't bother to glance at her as I knew she would be in her grim countenance state. After her back-and-forth hallway strut of two weeks ago when she put on the grimace for me, she also "happened" to be doing her heading away hallway strut last week as I was signing in one morning, and as soon as I formulated an internal "who cares" thought, a thump noise came from somewhere. Back to thought stalking, or at least, being aware of it. She is attractive somewhat, and I do find her hair especially interesting, but beyond that I have no interest, and yet she plays this unpleasant card. The generalized term for her would be "bitch", but my benchmark for that term is higher than most, so I don't use it as I really had no major interaction with her, apart from a one-time event on the radio-treatment bed and for some reason, she had to apply a solution to my freckle sized positioning tattoo in the middle. Needless to say, the perps played her in mind all the way back, some 50 minutes of driving.

Immigration and the attendant over promotion on CBC and in the media all over; I don't get it as this piece, Immigration Is Destruction articulates. And the civil authorities bend over backwards to "accommodate" the excesses of the perpetrators. Here is the report on what happened in Rotherham in the UK:

The scale of the abuse was horrendous, the violence harrowing... The key fact about this brutal crime wave was that almost all the predators were men of Pakistani and Kashmiri origin, while the majority of their victims were white.
That is precisely why the abuse went on so long and the terrible suffering of the girls was ignored. The authorities in Rotherham failed to act because the race-fixated dogma of anti-discrimination meant that they had completely lost their moral bearings and every last vestige of compassion

I am not the first to mention this, but it seems that these targeted rapes (e.g. Rotherham) that this whole government promoted multiculturalism is nothing but a takedown of the West. Hasn't anyone figured out the irony of the African migrants flooding into Europe in droves of late, (though having paid for passage), so they can get away from their own kind and their own behaviors? And somehow they expect it to be different? Meanwhile the do-gooders and the do-nothings prevaricate and equivocate. Di-worse-ity, and still the media saps spout this rubbish that serves their masters.

Mexico City was the most "diverse" city in the world in 1650, per "1493" by Charles Mann) and look at them now. The violence and corruption is rife, and the place is an armed camp. And they still cannot literally get their shit together, as the extensive barrios don't have a sewer system, so fecal dust is flying all over the place in the summer when the weather systems keep it in the basin where Mexico City sits.

12-03-2017
More troving on Jasun Horsley's Auticulture.com, and listening to the podcasts with Ann Diamond, (parts 1,3 and parts 3,4) a Montreal native in the 1950-50's, and an MKULTRA experimentee, though seemingly she didn't suffer too much and had parents who took a responsible role once they began to notice some peculiarities. She and her brother were twins, always of significant interest to nonconsensual human experimenters, and as far as I could tell, weren't long term patients. Later, she hung out with Leonard Cohen off and on and has some interesting observations to offer on him. Interestingly, he also seems to be an MKULTRA victim, as mentioned to friends and associates of that time and place. Ann Diamond also confirms what I learned from Carol Rutz' book, A Nation Betrayed; that the criminal clinician Dr Ewan Cameron, at the CIA's behest, was working on children. The public version (first known in 1974, but not in Western Canada as I can personally attest), was that he was working on "disturbed" adults, or late age teenagers, some of whom didn't have psychiatric issues. But somehow, the net was in place among clinician, and the ideal patients/victims got scooped for his "treatment". "In the Sleep Room", and "I Swear by Apollo" are two books about this CIA sponsored Canadian infamy that fail to mention that children were part if this Machiavellian nightmare that had the knowledge of the highest in the land at the time.

I also learned from Ann Diamond's ("My Cold War") podcast on Auticulture, that McGill Unviversity in Montreal, or more accurately, the Allen Memorial Institute, threw out all the patient/victim records. So much for finding out if I was there for the duration I lived in Montreal, aged 2-5, 1956-59.  I did write them once about eight years ago, and all I got was that there was no record of me. Of course they didn't say that they threw out all the records of this CIA sponsored infamy in about 1970, before it went public. It shows just how thin the veneer of civilization is, when they "need" to throw out the medical records of patient/victims over 10 years in one big purge. (The CIA did this too for all MKULTRA records. Another CIA "scoop" is The Strange Story of Sally Hartman). And to date, despite the current high drama of the politicians over aboriginal abuses in residential schools, and now the deemed LBGT abuses, (the PM shedding tears in Parliament for crissakes, he being a "B" or a "Q" IMHO) they still haven't addressed the outrageous abuses of the Duplessis orphans, (the supply of children for these medical atrocities), or those of the MKULTRA in Canada. No wonder the Duplessis Orphans have taken the Canadian government to the UN Court a hearing over these abuses. (For graphic eye  witness details of these atrocities see Silvio Day's account at the link). Let's see if our self-declared "caring and sharing" PM can summon the gumption to deal with this one, though I doubt it, as he must be reporting to someone who has been keeping the lid on, just as the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) has.

Anyhow, I have only begun troving through Auticulture.com, and it is worth a read/listen for those who have come to their own determination that nothing is what it seems. He is from the UK, now living in Canada, and has a childhood cultural prop kicked out from under him, specifically, the children's TV program host, Sir Jimmy Savile. From what I can tell, he was an extreme pedophile, with abettors at the highest level in the UK, and Europe to some extent. And he gets knighted, ("Sir") for his charity work; surely the Royal advisors must of known this, as it went on for so long, and was so prevalent. Which casts deep aspersions as to what the Royal Family is all about, and who they really serve.

Besides cigpapers, Aangirafan and Mother of Darkness have provided some interesting reading of late. One has to wonder if pedophilia isn't prerequisite for high office, Pizzagate being another example. Its dark down this rabbit hole, and I exist in only one corner of it.

Offline 24 Hour Rarity

2145h
Imagine, a whole 24 hours without being online. As one who can spend up to 15 hours a day online, that is a strange event, and one wonders what the perp management perspective is.

It was with plenty of First Feral Family time, begining with a dinner at my in-town brother's place with two errand stops in advance of arriving. As I don't have a whole lot of time to get this blog written for today, I will skip some of the events.

I suppose the big event yesterday was meeting my in-town brother's new "friend", or um-friend as they say. As in a female, as we learned he kicked the native Indian woman out in January, though it wasn't the first time. His new "um-friend" is a Thai woman in keeping with his (or someone else's) proclivity for having brown skinned women in the family orbit. She is much more talkative and engaging, though her English is a bit difficult to decode and seemed to be a genuinely nice person. She had her 16 y/o. son with her, and he seemed very freaked out about the entire social and mind-fuck control/abuse/scripted scenario. I sense he was had a Caucasian father, so all this brown skin and racial combinations that the perps so love to show me was getting extra exercised with a sit-down dinner. My father was getting his penultimate gangstalking in last night after dinner, as he heads off to the care hospital/home tomorrow. And I will be glad for that, not having his fucking antics on display all the time; his stalking, sit-ups, stand-ups, pausing in front of the TV, crossing my path every which way and the rest of this insane claustrophobic stalking will finally be over. And I suppose this was all timed for perp objectives, which suggests that they attained the most possible benefit from all his faux dementia antics. Or at least, I think it is faked, but his timing is always impecable for stalking me up the asshole, so I would think the perps have finally moved on after six years of this bullshit. As I have mentioned many times, I have no idea if the dementia act is for real or not, and/or if he is being run so to be so highly engaged in the stalking antics.

The final act of this nonsense, will likely be the banana games that were evident this morning in the dining room. One was wrapped up in Cling Wrap and left on the adjacent cupboards, another was left in the fridge, and a third one (the peel only) was left downstairs in the laundry room. But lets get real; he has never, ever used Cling Wrap in his entire life, and only used aluminum foil if he used anything at all, and somehow he concocts this final dementia act at the family home by using Cling Wrap for the first time? No sir, that has perp prepared banana games written all over it. I have long complained of public gangstalking Fuckwits packing bananas, or even eating them while walking around, and I have long endured many rage-ified fuckover games when attempting to use Cling Wrap (sticks to itself and not the dinner plate), so who else would of thought of this combination? Not a dementia patient, a real one with self generated thoughts that is.

I got put through the rage mill this morning when putting up the metal shelves in the closet that was painted last week. Don't forget the perps love to have parallel rod formed metals like oven racks and shopping carts placed around me, an improvement of the loom pieces they would carry around when screwing victims over 200 years ago as detailed in the book, The Air Loom Gang. So this was the near equivalent, the white painted wire metal shelves you get at the big box home supply stores. And as it so happens, there is a big box store only a five minute drive from my parent's place, so I paid a visit to get more toggle bolts as the end drops down in the wall when one removes them. And lo, having not used this form of fastener before, if I didn't get the wrong size (too short) as the wall plaster is extra thick in the house, and not the typical drywall. (It is "wet wall", where they put up rough plaster board and then spray on the wall plaster for a rougher surface.) So another trip to the big box store with my consort of silver grey vehicles with the odd red one inserted. And too, as part of the absurd freakshow, I got the woman cashier with the scarf hanging loose around her neck. She was the "other half" of the staff "couple" who were putting on the over friendly ingratiating smarm, but the male "half" was the one who was the cashier on the first visit.

I have been getting many headscarfed women gangstalkers of late, and the perps have me controlled to be extra perturbed and jangled by the sight of this particular, once innocuous, head wear. I don't know what the deal is, but with the perps having me extra reactive (controlled by them) in response to their many headscarfed gangstalkers, I suppose wearing a loose scarf around one's neck is a "starter headscarf". This is very common for the perps to incrementally introduce an object or person of the Unfavored. (Another example would be bleached skinned Asians, having Caucasian skin color). I am sure there is much more to this particular Unfavored head adornment story, as nearly all are, but I don't know what it is about, and that my recall deletions from 1956 to 59 just may have not removed all the traumatizations the perps claim to have incurred and are the basis of this ongoing gangstalking freakshow and related abuse.

(For the record, the perps tell me that I visited some of the convents and nuns that were associated with the systemized Dupplesis Orphans abuse in Quebec, which was contemporaneous with the Dr. Ewen Cameron psychiatric abuse also playing out in Montreal. And interestingly, one Montreal convent I read about only a few days ago (and cannot find the link), was next door to a pig farm where they got their food supply. Which left me wondering as to the coincidence of the recent and ongoing swine flu outbreak. But we are getting way over our heads to surmise that the perps are even feeding me the truth never mind finding deeper conspiratorial connections with the swine flu). But as I say, nothing in my life is a coincidence, as it has been arranged from the get-go with all manner of wondrous perp objectives instilled into my daily regimen, never mind the neurological and physiological deficits they also introduced and in some instances, have recently ameliorated them; e.g. straightening my spine posture.

And for the record, there is at least one Duplessis Orphan survivor with whom I spoke for over an hour, and he is getting this same covert gangstalking and extra-conventional gravitic harassment. So... here we have one unfortuneate TI who has a full traumatization memory of the Duplessis Orphan abuse (and physical disabilities from being electroshocked too often), as a child as well as the later adult age TI abuse which effectively connects these two strands of contemporaneous institutionalized abuse that ran for over twenty years in the former case. And it was fomented at the level of the provincial government cabinet, Duplessis as the premier of Quebec. (This topic is not new to this blog, and I am rehashing old ground here). I never was a conspiratorial thinker until all this targetted harassment began, and I see far more connections to world events than I ever did before, as this new "TI lens" I have makes it very plain. As I have said before, it is a ringside seat to the biggest circus there is, and as brutal as it is in many cases.

And I see that the daffodil farm of last year's short term employment is still advertising for workers, and have even changed the weekend newspaper ad that indicates extra urgency in finding farm workers. Which I surmise is just to piss me off all the more, as I applied two weeks ago, and phoned last week, and was told they haven't completed their hiring decisions. I had a good work record with them, and was often given extra tasks, so it seems that they want to rub it in; here is a job you could have, but we want to remind you that you are not going to get it. Or, perhaps, it is to raise my angst level all the more. A FUD fuck to say the least. Nothing new. Maybe they cannot hire the Mexicans they were planning to, per above mentioned swine flu outbreak.

Enough speculation and tribulations; this one is done for today. And now to ponder how long the Monday Imposition will run before I am allowed to sleep; over 20 headflips on each side, or is it to be more noise inundation?

Surrogate Churchbell Clanging Upstairs

1050h
In the ever never ending spiral of stupider and stupider (aka, progressively more improbable), the faux upstairs neighbor has taken to banging a metallic drum of some kind, say a 5 gal. steel pail. It isn't a instrument quality of sound, but the erstaz clanging the perps like to engage in. And in doing, are continuing their program of creating clanging and ringing sounds in my proximity, much as if there were some kind of vibrational energies they are wishing to create, and then have them interfere with other like energies in my proximity. Just another day in Fuckville, the collective assortment of remotely applied harassment, torture, abuse that passes for just another event, now six years of this deranged imposition.

1205h
And a rage-ified morning, all prompted by mysterious hangs in the attaching of a document to an email. The Open Office Writer doc file won't attach for "some reason", and the requestor already has an rtf file that he could save as a doc file with MS Word. Then the alternative, creating a new rtf file "somehow" blows up over bulleting, all to repeat the earlier corrective actions in creating the doc file in the first place. And while getting sabotaged in attempting repairs, the perps made sure I was rage-ified as my "reaction" to yet more imposed impasses of doing what should be simple things. And I suspect its not the softward conversion, but the one and only agency that exploits any differentials and conversion processes to then seed more vexation.

This follows on from a seriously ugly night of imposed dreams for which my normal bail-out neural circuitry won't now work. I suggest that this too has been remotely jerked with, all to keep me "experiencing" extended dream fuckery for longer, something they couldn't do until this year. The morning was rounded out with excessive traffic noise, as if there was both a freeway outside and local traffic with plenty of stop/start brake squealings. And the strange logger's whistle noise was also arranged while in a light sleep, and the practice involved progressively fainter sounds. Regular readers will recall that I have remarked on this particular noise in the past, and that it has no apparent source, as it is very unlike any vehicle, train or ship's whistle, and is uniquely tuned to use in forestry settings. And more oddly, they put the logging whistle noise on last night while keeping me in 1.5 hours of sleeplessness, that being only one of many noises that were directed at me as they kept me flipping my head from side to side. They also created more colored spots and shapes while my eyes were closed, and seem to be working on integrating red colors into a black background. So it would seem that it was a continuation of yesterday's goings on, where after having breakfast at my parent's, and then driving my mother to a specific store, I then was dropped off at my in-town brother's place to continue leaf raking, as it seems he hasn't the patience to do it. Don't ask what he did in past years he has lived at this same location, as I don't know either.

My leaf raking was fraught with the usual extra-conventional gravitic fuckery; leaves "somehow" slipped through the tines of the rake, some leaves "arrived" from nowhere after the leaves had been raked clean, other leaves strangely hopped or lept 2' or so "from" being raked, and many other extra-conventional kinetics. Not too vexing in total thankfully. I had the the expectable surfeir of aircraft noise while outside; I cannot understand why the commercial helicopter service is now flying over the nearby naval base; not one of those "high security" situations it seems. That, and the loud mufflered vehicles arrived in the neighborhood, not to mention loud Harley Davidson two cycle motorcycle noise. Funny how it travels with me.

While there, my brother left for work, and while working away on the lower portion of the property his sort-of native Indian girlfriend arrived unannouced, as I only saw her as she departed in her (brown colored) vehicle. In other words, she arrived from her day job, slipped into the house and would of seen my footwear, pack and coat there, and then took off again, all for me to catch a departing glimpse. Then after finishing the garden work I find she had locked the door up, something unexpected, as she had to have known I was there. But as it "happened", my brother told me about his new secret key hiding location for the first time yesterday, and I was able to get into the house, and then lock it up afterward.

When in the house, and cleaning my brother out of the last of his chocolate which he had previously offered, I was about to use the toilet to take a piss, but lo, there was some already in the toilet, with a drop on the seat to let me know that it was likely a recent event. Meaning, that his girlfriend might have driven from her work to take a piss in his toilet, leave it there unflushed, all for me to dispose of it, and pee into the same toilet. I don't normally get into the elimination interests of the perps, but this sudden lapse in hygeinic behavior of all immediate family has not gone unnoticed over the past 4 months or so. I will spare the details, but that, in conjunction with the tactical pee-ing and shitting that is going on in my apartment at key perp interest moments such as immediately following sending an email, applying for a job online, selecting, cutting and pasting in Windows, and other like minuitae that they routinely and relentlessly noisestalk along with applying other phenomenon, suggests the perps cannot get enough of bodily eliminations to study. So, all the current urine recycling problems on the space station that is in the news, could it be the reach of the perps in fucking astronauts in a much different environment for the same reasons of remotely applied covert human bioenergetics research of bodily eliminations? One must not conflate the present imposed hell to all things of similar nature, but who tknows, except to note that it is all getting curiouser and curiouser and fits the consistent model of Earth-bound bioenergetics study being separated from those of us Earthlings.

1630h
I got a credit on my credit card, simple enough, but for my financial record keeping the Fuckwits dithered me for over 10 minutes, not letting me register the transaction correctly, and ultimately adding an "Adjustment" transaction to deal with the fuckery. Then, another look, and a new cognitive perspective was allowed, and finally I was permitted to register the transaction as a transfer. Ten minutes of farting around all to deal with a problem they created in the fiirst place, presumably to rile me up over financial transactions. And it would seem to be a set-up as my mother showed me one of her statements with "CR" and "wanted to know" if she had to pay anything on it. Always the variable ditz, and seeming engaging me with Fuckwit agenda elicitations that have research/harassment corollaries not long afterward.

Other yesterday First Feral Family action while leaf raking at my brother's place was the identical jerkaround with the hole in the glove fuckery again. One of the red fleece lined leather gloves "erupted" with a hole in one left hand finger, and so was in direct contact with soil, leaves and anything else related to raking leaves, and including the rake tines on the odd occasion. Regular readers will recall that I was picking daffodil bulbs for two months in the summer, and this involved wearing gloves and scraping the soil to find them and place them in a box for removal to the warehouse. I forget if I mentioned how many times my gloves "erupted" with left hand finger holes, sometimes over a break period when not being used. Good quality and relatively unused leather gloves would get holes in the fingers within a few days, and the disposable cotton ones would do the same. Other games related to hand contact were having me use sodden cotton gloves to pick weeds from the wet cabbage plantations and also one day in the pouring rain. And by way of perp planted notion it seems, they are purposely holing my gloves to allow just one fingertip to be exposed to soil, plant material or other at very selective intervals and situations. They also tell me that the skin can absorb various nanoparticles and that they cannot model its energetic effects in the human body, once taken in. This coming from a pack of liars, but in this case it could be true owing to this ongoing one finger glove holing that should not be happening in the case of the leather gloves.

And so, it would seem that much of this ongoing nanoparticle fuckery is so that I don't take in compounds through my hands. They routinely have me use gloves to clean the bathroom, and that might also be for the same reasons; limiting compound intake through fingers. That they had me replace my keyboard about 10 months ago might be related to this, as the old keyboard worked fine, but still the perps demanded a $75 Fuckover from a victim on a disability income when they could of supplied one themselves, the assholes.

So it wasn't too much of a surprise that when walking back to the bus stop I had two red dressed kid gangstalkers paralleling me down the street, one doing the all too common skateboard act, weaving down the hill. Then later, another kid paralleling me when walking on the latter portion of my walk to the bus stop. And lo, if there wasn't a negro dude installed at the bus stop in advance of me arriving, the exact same circumstances when I was dropped off at the same bus stop by my brother about a week and a half ago after raking leaves at his place, though a differing negro dude. Another three shiftless males incrementally arrived and closed in on me, and lo, if only a minute before the bus arrives, another negro dude arrives, seeming not to know the other one at first, but did moments later so they could stand side by side like sentries, letting me on ahead of them. Another two negros were on driveby duty. There aren't that many in town, and it is mighty curious as to why they keep "showing up" in my presence, and even are portrayed on delivery vans in this town for some reason. The only speculative reasons for this particular Unfavored group to be represented is given at the link. Suffice to say, it seems like yet another elicitation of subconscious responses to long past traumatizations to Unfavored demographic group members during the lost years of 1956 to 1959 (no recall of anything for 2.5 years at least). There must be something important about me that "needs" to be sampled/exposed to the Unfavored, and by having me on the city bus freakshow after raking leaves for three hours, they get more freak exposure.

Two weeks ago when staying at my parent's place, my mother was going on about nuns for some reason, and mentioned that they don't dress up in those funny costumes, aka, a habit. I forget how this topic got started, perhaps it was prompted by a newspaper article that morning. Again, I have no recollections as to having even seen nuns at anytime in the aforementioned "lost years" and I did seriously wonder if this is another Unfavored group that I am unaware of. Though I do know that the Catholic Church had a significant hand in the Duplessis Orphan abuse in Quebec during the 1950's and 1960's, though any connection that I have is tenuous. And as it "so happens", there is at least one Duplessis Orphan who is getting gangstalked and like harassment, who connects that stated sponsored child abuse with the current remotely applied harassment and gangstalking that I recieve. I did live in Montreal, Quebec in 1956-57, aged 2 to 3 at the time, but my Montreal recollections are sketchy, and later recollections are totally nonexistent until 1959.

2040h
Another exercise in hanging this PC; the perps need to do this every few days and have a window partially removed, often only with remaining witespace and hang the processor so I have this white-out image until I interupt the process and kill it. Then the browser is relaunched again, all to get back to where I was. This is a dual core processor and "somehow" it lacks the power to sort an existing directory that was already sorted alphabetically until the new Firefox upgrade fucked it up and made it worse.

2225h
Another three job applications were fired off in the last hour, along with tuning my resume for each one. And to no surprise, there was plenty of noisestalking of Windows select, copy and paste, as well as sending the email, addressing it, writing it, saving resume versions and all other associated minutae. I am begining to sense that many of the job advertisements seem to be arranged by local businesses, or desired situations like a two day per week job so I could continue with my disability until this time next year after taking courses to upgrade my software development skills. In other words, a certain theme is planted into mind, and then the jobs seem to match it, but of course not even an interview materializes. The perps aren't doing me any favors by sandbagging my typing, fucking with my motor control on the keyboard and the rest of the aggravations that build up to rage-ification level abusive fuckery.

Before the above job looking was tea and chocolate time, and that too was roundly noisestalked with the high speed freeway traffic noise, as well as their ongoing rage-ification games over faked noises and touches as well as their most persistent and deranged stunt yet, the re-wetting of a specific knife I use, called a Spyderco Delica. It often gets put in the knife block about 10 minutes ahead of using it to cut into the chocolate bar foil. It gets thoroughly dried, shaken, and then re-dried with a tea towel to then be placed in the knife block. About 10 minutes later after the kettle has boiled and the tea has steeped (also a perp obsession), I need to use the Spyderco knife for opening up the chocolate bar wrapping foil. And lo, if the assholes haven't slathered water beads on it to then force it to be re-dried again immediately before its intended use. In other words, drying the knife and placing it in the knife block for use ten minutes later isn't good enough; they have to go and fuck it by mysteriously applying water to the knife in the block to then piss me off as I had just dried the knife beforehand. This bizarre jerkaround has been playing nearly once per day for about two weeks, and before this insane bullshit started up, the knife was most often dried, placed in the block and it stayed dry thereafter. Not now, this expectable sequence has to be fucked with by the Surrepticious Sickos, aka, the SS.

That is segue into a new piece of related fuckery that erupted today, and being allowed for the first time in six years, to dry the cutlery with a tea towel. Normally, the little cutlery I use (another topic) air dries in the dish rack and I put them into the drawer. But all of a sudden, today, the fuckers ensure the cutlery stays wet, and have me dry it with the tea towel. Not a big deal for me, but for the SS, they went crazy with overhead pounding noise, extra street traffic noise, extra augmented noise of the cutlery "clanging" (actually, there was no contact, but just more noise augmentation as if it happened), overhead pissing noise, faux neighbor water use noise and a few others. The SS went beserk with noisetalking all over me hand drying cutlery for the first time in six years. The same tea towel as always.

But mind you, they are consistent, even if beserk. In 2006 the SS broke my Copco frypan with a copper layer under the stainless steel base by popping the spot welds one by one while the frypan was in my hand, under no stress whatsoever. A very blantant piece of sabotage to say the least. So..., and I am sure that I have blogged about it at the time, I bought a new frypan with an all aluminum base and thinner sides of chromed steel at a cost of $105, something I could of done without. And ever since, the perps have been going nuts on impairing my motor coordination while grasping and, yes, drying it with the tea towel. They even have the tea towel flipping around in extra-conventional kinetic mode unless I take it very slowly to remove the excuses they take to flick it about while in use. As deranged as the perps obsessions are, they are very consistent in applying their tea towel dried implements obsession in a progressive way, moving from frypans (after starting anew), to a specific knife, and now to cutlery. And as part of this, they have always had me use the minimum of cutlery when eating, as my usual fare is finger food for lunch and dinner, the tortillas dish they have me eat all the time.

I hope that is enough bizarreness for some decent reading, and further confirmation that no one could possibly make this up. And call this one done for the day, with the big excitement being the laundry, yet another perp obsession that this time, I will refrain from describing.

Right Arm Pseudosweats

1130h
This imposed condition, of profuse sweating without feeling hot, took a new turn today; my right arm was dripping in sweat from lifting a coffee cup at breakfast, while my left arm was normal. This "condition" persisted after my shower while shaving and dental hygeine. Only when those activities were complete was my right arm returned to normal. Patterns like these are consistent in that a condition of assymetry is created, which from Tom Bearden's work, (PDF file) is what one needs to exploit and quantify the etheric energies, aka sidereal, orgone, scalar, lifeforce etc.

And more weird dreams in the night, with noisestalking added into the mix; this time it was over financial transactions, and the setup was that a company had split into three, and the same transactions were being applied, just to separate companies. As before, this is way too detailed and way too off my past dream subjects and nature to be anything but planted. Each transaction was noisestalked with the sound of a tractor trailer or other large vehicle outside, often in conjunction with the characteristic air pressure release noise, which is continuing into the daytime, even as I type this.

I was also treated to a nightime awakening and was made to thrash about in a highly agitated manner. Yet again, this is highly anomalous to any past, pre-overt harassment awakenings which were exceedingly rare in any event. I have never been in such a state in the nightime, and never have anywhere near so much energy then, let alone being totally pissed off. Highly irregular to say the least.

1255h
On with the air pressure release noises again, timed for the post-lunch digestion period. And the shopping cart rattling noise is being blended in over top, as it is of a similar sound profile, just a different source of vibrations. And it should be noted that the (shopping) "basket cases" have increased this week. There were four of them enroute when I drove from my parent's place on Monday, two days ago, and there were two yesterday on my walk, at opposite sides in opposite directions of the same intersection, the operatives putting on the wave to each other as if members of the vagrants-with-shopping-baskets brethren, that hardy breed of street scoopers.

As in NOT; it is arranged, and the baskets are invariably full of black plastic bags each full of plastic returnable bottles and returnable pop cans. It is a way of getting a variety of plastics in close to me, along with the vibration and noise of the shopping cart, and the rest of the perp benefits that accrue with the placement of metal mesh and cans in my proximity. I have noted in past blogs (with a picture) that the perps have arranged a permanent site of over 200 shopping carts at a Safeway that customers don't use as it is nowhere close to the store, but instead, is close to the street and my walking beat for two round trips per week.

1600h
A ginger beer break and now, increased noise from overhead (the hyperactive faux sliding glass door, extra buses and construction noise). This being the post-digestion period of said brown colored substance, a perp obsession event.

And I am getting the heavy push to get a nap, so I may not make it, in completing this journalling.

1620h
The nap "need" passed (oddly), but the noise continues, now with overhead pounding of the concrete floor above.

I read about the horrific event of the Duplessis Orphans, (and here) surely one of the darkest stains on the purported democratic rights of citizens in Canada, that continues to this day. The short story is that the government of Quebec asked, or more likely demanded, that the Roman Catholic schools supply orphan children for nonconsensual human experimentation which they did. This occured from the 1930’s through the 1980’s. And a TI by the name of Pierre Sampson is going to be visited by a email TI correspondent of mine in short order. But what I learned was stunning; he is still getting "harassed and stalked" after all these years, some 50 years later. This is incredible news; it means that the depraved agency behind the Duplessis Orphan torture outrage (some say "holocaust"), is the same operation that continues gangstalking and remotely applied harassment on TI's, me being one of hundreds, possibly thousands.

Pierre Sampson escaped from a hospital that killed many subjects when he was 14 years old, and I presume, left the province of Quebec, possibly for British Columbia. He did a presentation on his experiences in a conference call for TI's, which I "somehow" missed, most unusually, as I always seek credible sources related to nonconsensual human experimentation. I will do some more digging to find out if there is an audio track of this story.

And as I wrote the above two paragraphs up I got three sucessive siren cascades and four loud motorcycle noises trailing off into the distance. Translated, the above topic is of extreme interest to the perps, the very assholes who were behind the Duplessis Orphans horrors IMHO. Nothing that big, said to be 100,000 "disappeared" children over 50 years of experimentation, goes down without their hand in on it. Again, another speculative arguement, but it is consistent with what I have come to know since overt harassment began in 2002.

1715h
Onto science, or at least the precepts of those who have studied the human energetics condition, and have this to say:

On page 61 of Cosmic Pulse, Trevor tells us that the departure of a ray of energy from the human eye is an integral part of the process of vision. He refers to the book, Man or Matter by Dr. Ernst Lehrs in which Lehrs identifies the eye beam as the "visual ray". Trevor continues:

"This term is appropriate because the visual ray acts similarly to a radar beam, going out into space from the human being and extending consciousness out into space. Each eye emits energy, but one eye is the "master eye" and controls and the whole process. Through the visual ray, the living energy in you makes contact with external objects, reaching out and grasping those objects, as it were. The visual ray is of the same quality as the rays leaving your fingertips, but is much more sensitive and more functional because of its direct connection to consciousness. The visual ray is also under the direction, in a mechanical sense, of the exquisite human ocular apparatus."

And this may likely explain the perps ongoing obsession over my vision, my eye contact with others, vision impairments, having their shills and operatives wear shades in absurd situations, starings at me and other vision/observation games that pass for the current normal. And it does also explain why I see so much waving and pointing by the operatives and related gangstalkers. Fascinating, to say the least.

1915h
Another 40 minutes of actively ranting at the perps in the course of updating my personal accounts; this "happens" everytime, now for five years, where they rag the shit out of me by manipulating the numbers on either the online bank statement or Quicken, or both to then create considerably extra effort in finding errors and balancing the books between the two systems. And to no surprise, the perps jerked me around for an extra $220 of expenses, chocolate and the PC takedown last month ("failed" LCD panel switch).

And all the time, the extra strange dusk time lighting was arranged to fall on me and my keyboard as I am working through their fuckery, per above. Extra daylight is "imported" to fall into my E. facing suite in the guise of "reflecting" off outside apartment towers, the current height of regularly scheduled stupidity. I also get light that is flashing as if a stroboscope was operative outside. And all the time I was attending to financial transactions, the noise stalking was on; loud motorcycles, loud mufflered vehicles, the hyper bus service that erupts for the only route below this apartment and so it goes. My financial activity, right down to paying in the grocery store, is of huge interest to the assholes, the ones constricting my income in the first place.

And I wouldn't doubt that this morning's strange dream events, a detailed above, weren't a "warm-up" harassment exercise to support the above month-end financial transactions. All my life, I couldn't get columns of financial figures to add up, and now I know a troup of sick minded assholes was fucking my sanity at the time. Another mystery solved in part, though I don't know why they persist in pulling this depraved stunt.

2005h
And while the dusktime games continue, I am getting muscle spasming in knees, delivered by remote means. I often wonder how they know where all my muscles and nerves are from a control room, though I reckon when they conked me out for 10 hours or so when this all began, they must of digitized me, or mapped me in some way. No marks or hurts, save a sore left foot, in the center of it.

2230h
I found out that all of yesterday's pictures didn't turn out, save some more collections of red colored vehicles. Even the biddy trailing me on her infernal red colored motorized wheelchair did not turn out, and it was a direct shot, she being only 4' away.

Another missed photo was two shiftless males lounging on poles in the sidewalk; one had a cover story, (still looking like a fish out of water though), of being at a bus stop, and the other was further away, on MIB duty, wearing black and being the color reference for the asshole who was closer to me.

Time to call this a wrap; the masers and plasma games are busy, and it seems extra crud was applied to my glasses, something I get every two days, and it serves as the "cover story" for seeing flares and visual aberations, as well as a backlit effect, especially when doing Thursday yoga (tomorrow, another fluke).